A Lady In Disguise

To sit in front of your grandfather was not entirely the same as having a chat with your grandmother, most particularly if you were planning to talk about a very peculiar topic.

Valerie and Violet, twins, were thinking how they could convince their grandfather to talk more freely about the Town, a place they've read about in their grandmother's eight handwritten and unpublished stories, the very same ones they found merely weeks ago

in their grandparents' old cabin by the woods.

Since reading all eight stories, they have been filled with questions and they barely got any answer from their grandmother who had not even shared why she never tried to have the stories published.

She wrote about the Town as if she truly lived there. It was as if the woman wrote the stories entirely for herself, to have a physical copy of her memories there.

But the idea of the Town seemed preposterous.

Thinking about it now, the twins could barely grasp the idea of an underground world hundreds of feet below with people who chose to live their lives trapped in an era that had long been forgotten aboveground, an era where gowns and balls were not merely a part of history books, but of daily lives; carriages the most common form of transport; electricity a new discovery; castes were distinctly observed and many other things humanity once had lived with but now reduced to mere fairytales.

But as far-fetched as the Town may seem, the twins could not help but feel confused. Their grandmother's stories of the infamous Everards and their struggles with life, family, friends, society and love, all felt incredible yet true that they would not be surprised now if they would stumble upon a giant cone-shaped wall somewhere in the middle of the woods, climb on it and find themselves looking into a hole, one of the many that were scattered all over the Town to offer ventilation, light for vegetation and a scenic view for other social events or otherwise. They had also agreed that should they find such hole, they

would not hesitate to attach themselves to a harness and descend down on a lake, an estate or one of the vast plantations of the Town. Just like how Mr. Jones might have done it if he was indeed true as what most of the townspeople believed.

Having read all eight handwritten books, having witnessed through their grandmother's writings how the Everards surpassed society's ire when one of them married his sisters' governess, when the other eloped with a woman betrothed to another and married in Tiny Town, when the other successfully rekindled an old flame, how one married the man of her dreams and many other things the family had to go through-good and bad, joyful and tragic-Valerie and Violet was eager to know more about the Everards and the Town itself.

Add the fact that their grandmother had chosen to write herself in most of the stories and the twins surely found themselves with so many unanswered questions. And to add more reasons for the two young women's eagerness, Fiona Trilby also wrote in some of the pages about a young man who would then turn to be the very same old man eating pudding in front of them many years later, here, aboveground and not down there where the Town was supposed to be.

Their grandmother had indicated as much that the characters were true-that they all lived-but how true was the Town and its underground world of carriages, manors, rakes, lords and ladies, conniving stepmothers, crazy gossipmongers and their crazier scandals, secret passages, bandits and even dirty politics and mysterious history? How true was it that all the things they had read all happened

underground?

Was it really just a mix of reality and fiction or was it all real?

Their grandmother, they fear, was enjoying the torment and the twins could see that by the sparkle in her blue eyes as she quietly stared at them from the other side of the table as they looked at their grandfather like journalists starving for a good story of a man who had just arrived after a year in outer space.

They flew all the way to visit their grandparents and discover more of the stories of not just the Everards but of the others presented in the other books.

And the Town, of course.

Their grandfather Eddie was devouring his piece of the pudding after a long afternoon playing chess with his so-called friends and the twins knew that the man knew what they were thinking.

They tried to be more patient, considering how he could easily be set off-topic.

"So, gramp," Valerie started, smiling, tucking her dark hair behind one ear. "What do you think about the Everards? You've met them, right? You were in Margaret's story."

Their grandfather looked up to study them with dark eyes, a stark contrast to his greying hair. "Hmm," he said, turning to look at his wife. "I figure your grandmother did not tell you what you wanted."

Violet answered, "She will in time. I am sure of it."

Fiona Trilby simply smiled.

When their grandfather looked back at them both, he said, "The Everards..."

The twins waited but the man did not continue.

"Yes. Who did you like the most?" Valerie urged.

He shrugged. "I liked Cole the best."

"But he was not

an Everard!" Violet said.

"He married into the Everards," Valerie provided.

"Ah, yes, of course," he said with a chuckle. "Well, I liked the ladies the most. They were quite fun."

"And among the men?"

Their grandmother laughed while her husband groaned. "I would rather not choose, believe me."

"But we want to know!"

"Is it Ralph? He is closest to your age since he is the youngest of all the brothers," Valerie asked.

"No," their grandfather said, shaking his head. "And I was way younger than him."

"Benedict?" asked Violet. "I like Benedict."

"He was often away in Devonshire. No, it is not him."

"Levi?"

"Too bloody beautiful."

The twins snorted. "Then who? Between Maxwell and Nicholas, I bet you liked-"

"Nick," said Eddie Trilby. "I liked Nick the most."

The twins turned to their grandmother. "Was he a rake like Nick?" Valerie asked, pointing at the old man before her.

Their grandmother shook her head as she lovingly stared at her husband. "Not quite."

"Nick shared amazing stories of his travels from all over the Town," their grandfather pointed out. "And he is quite an easy man to be with than Max. That bloke was too bloody difficult to read."

"I like Max," Violet admitted. "He is an alluring, cynical bastard," she added with a chuckle.

Their grandfather rolled his eyes. "I do agree with the last two words, dear. The alluring part I will consider."

"You were intimidated by him, were you not?" asked Valerie in a teasing voice.

"Intimidated?" Eddie Trilby asked in disbelief. He stared at his wife incredulously. "I have told you that you painted me wrong in those books."

Fiona Trilby shrugged. "They were about the Everards, dear, not you or the rest of the Trilbys. I had to paint you how you were when I was at a certain age."

"You mean eight," said Valerie. "You were eight when you appeared first in Margaret's story."

Their grandfather had a knowing look on his face. "I know dear. No one would dare forget that."

He looked over at his wife and they both shared a gentle look, one that spoke of years of both pain and joy.

Violet was staring at their grandparents. "So, can you at least tell us if whether or not it is true that you are cousins? Because it would entirely change our lives if it is."

Their grandfather, like he always did, threw his head back and laughed. Slowly, as his laughter died down, he stood up from his chair. "Fee, dear, is there any tea left?"

"Yes, of course," his wife said, coming to her feet.

Valerie and Violet groaned with frustration.

"The two of you are the worst storytellers ever," Valerie called out to them.

"Will you at least tell us about the Trilbys?" Violet asked.

"Will you ever tell us anything?" Valerie asked with a groan.

Their grandfather looked over his shoulder as his wife walked past him to go to the kettle.

His wrinkled eyes glimmering, he mouthed, "Later."

II. Many Months Ago

Many months ago...

Eustace Theobald, Lord of the Theobald estate, was not happy.

He looked over at his daughter with his light grey eyes, his expression disappointed and confused all the same.

The daughter did not share his blonde hair, although the same light grey globes were strikingly similar. Apart from that, there was none of the man that the black-haired woman had acquired.

Eustace Theobald's blonde wife was sitting beside her husband, staring at Maxine with helplessness. There was none from the woman that Maxine had inherited because Rachel Theobald was not her mother.

She was a bastard.

And that very fact was the reason why she was standing before her father and his wife.

"Must we always debate about this every year?" her father asked.

Maxine tried not to roll her eyes but she knew Rachel Theobald saw it, causing her stepmother to sigh and her shoulders to sag. The woman was, in all essence, a mother to her. She raised Maxine like she did her two sons and although Maxine knew the woman did it out of the goodness of her heart and nothing else, she could still not find it in herself to call Rachel Theobald mother.

"Must I always have to insist and point out the reasons why I choose not to join the party?" she asked her father as a rejoinder.

"You can join and not introduce yourself if you so wish, dear," Rachel Theobald said, giving her a smile.

"And what would you have me do? Offer a different name?"

"And how different is that from your yearly attempts to dress as one of the service

people during the party?" her father inquired.

She shrugged. "I enjoy it-that is the difference, father."

Eustace Theobald closed his eyes in frustration, eliciting a groan from his throat. "You cannot forever hide in your chambers, Maxie-"

"Of course, I can," she interjected. "And it is not as though I hide for the entirety of the year! I merely choose not to be seen. There is a difference."

Her stepmother sighed once more before she spoke. "We do desire to present you to society, Maxie, dear. We do not believe that you ought to-"

"I have no place in society," she snapped at them. "You very well know how they could be." Slanting her eyes toward her father, she added, "They would never see you the same way they do now should they find out. I do not wish to inconvenience all of you."

"We have talked about this, Maxine," her father said, voice stern and slowly losing patience.

"And my answer remains the same." She whirled around to walk out of the parlor, her long black hair moving along as she did so. "Mayhap you ought to try next year. I might change my mind."

She heard her father's loud groan before she closed the door behind her with a smile.

Done. The customary annual argument before the weekend party had come to pass.

Maxine immediately set the matter aside for next year in the darkest corners of her mind.

In three days' time, the Theobald weekend party shall start.

As she walked back to her secret bedchamber, Maxine was in deep thought.

What should she be this time?

She hurried her steps, eager to go and find

a costume.

Most of the women who would be in attendance would be hunting for husbands, chat with friends from all corners of the Town, and gossip.

She, on the other hand, would be doing what most of the gentlemen would-she'd be playing a game.

Only it would be a different one.

*****

"'Tis not wise to be out here, milady," the footman hissed, vigorously shaking his head as though the sight before him would disappear if he shook it long enough.

"No one shall know," said Maxine, rolling her eyes. "You did not recognize me, yes?"

"B-but, m-milady, you are-"

"A footman," she uttered, lifting her chin. "Stop gawking."

"His lordship will not like-"

"He shall never know," she snapped. "I am not to serve him." But as the man continued to look at her warily, she asked, "Why? Do I not pass as a man? I am quite certain I do look like one."

The poor man looked at her from head to foot in a sweeping motion. She had tied her hair behind her nape and hid the tail underneath her plain black swallow-tail coat. Her facial features were less feminine altogether without the presence of her dress and long hair.

"You-you look like one, milady, but it is still not-"

"Then it shall suffice," she interjected. "And stop addressing me as your mistress. Tonight I am not." She rolled her eyes once more when the man continued to stare at her in disbelief. "Oh, do stop it. I have been a male servant before-a second footman!"

"And you have been caught by his lordship!" the man said, aghast.

"Well, I have recently promoted myself to

first footman," she said with a wide, wicked grin. "Seriously, please do stop gawking. We ought to do our task. I wish to valet one of the guests."

"I would suggest a blind one if there is any, milady," the footman said, "Because, truly, his lordship shall make us pay should he know of this!"

"He will not," she said, straightening her coat. "I shall take the fall like I always did. None of the maids had to ever be kicked out of service." When the man opened his mouth to protest, Maxine jumped to her feet. "Ah, a carriage is on its way. I shall have this one, my friend."

"But, milady, you cannot-" The rest of the man's words were left unheard as Maxine left him in his post by the driveway to stand ready to valet whoever was approaching. If she was lucky, she would be serving someone worth observing.

She ignored the panicking footman a few paces away.

"You must realize you ought to carry the luggage, yes, milady?" the footman hissed at her.

Maxine was stunned. "I do?"

"Of course!"

"Well, then I shall!" she hissed back with pride although deep inside she was quite doubtful of her strength.

Focusing her attention on the carriage, she straightened her back as it stopped in front of her. She could hear female voices from inside.

"We are here. Best we go straight to our chambers and freshen up before the ruckus begins."

Maxine fixed her face into a serious one as she reached for the door of the carriage and pulled it open. A black-haired woman immediately jumped out, her emerald green eyes filled with wickedness.

"Good day, milady," Maxine murmured, keeping her tone

as low as she possibly could.

The woman merely smiled and waited until another black-haired woman emerged.

"Do you think Nick notices Aurora?" the woman asked the first one. Maxine realized that they looked familiar, but she did not ponder further as a man stepped out of the carriage, his face utterly striking that for a moment Maxine's heart stopped.

Everard.

She had bloody chosen the Everard carriage.

"I heard that," the man snapped at his sisters before he turned to guide an older version of the first two ladies out of the carriage.

"Now, now, no bickering," Lady Alice Everard warned her children. Maxine bent her head in an attempt to hide her face.

Alice Everard was a dear friend of her stepmother's. The lady may not know of her, but she knew of her too well not to feel utterly conscious.

A beautiful, red-haired woman stepped out of the carriage next, guided by Nicholas Everard himself.

"Thank you," the woman said to Nicholas before she started to walk beside Lady Alice's daughters.

Maxine swallowed as two maids came forward to guide the women into the estate. And she froze when she found Nicholas Everard staring down at her with an expectant look on his face.

Her eyes frantically searched for the footman she had been talking with earlier, hoping to swap places with him, but another carriage had driven into the driveway and the man was already serving it.

"Well? Is my chamber here or is it somewhere inside?" asked Nicholas Everard, his tone jesting and light, a tinge of a smile on his lips.

Maxine swallowed

and promptly jumped to her feet. "Of course. Pardon me, my lord," she said in the lowest tone she could muster. She looked up at the carriage and saw the mountain of luggage sitting on top.

She swallowed. Squaring her shoulders, she walked to the driver and said, "Could you help me with those?"

The man nodded after taking a good look at her small frame.

"I'll hand 'em to ye," the driver said, climbing on his seat to reach for the luggage.

Maxine prepared herself for the heavy task at hand.

The first luggage was thrown down at her and she grunted. It nearly toppled her down on the ground.

"Heavy, aren't they?" Nicholas Everard's amused voice said behind her. "That's my sister's."

With a grunt, Maxine nodded and placed the first luggage on the ground. The driver dropped another one, but this time she was ready. She easily placed it on the ground beside the first one.

"You can leave those for the others," Nicholas said, pointing at the six heavy bags when she finally managed to exhaust herself with the last one. "It would help if someone forgets about them," he said with a chuckle. "Those are mine," he said, pointing at the remaining two, "and it would not help if you neglect them."

Maxine nearly moaned in protest as she bent down to pick them up.

Nicholas Everard was looking at her with a combination of doubt and pity. "Would you like help?"

"No," she snapped and then she stiffly turned to guide the way into the estate, carrying the heavy bags with both hands.

She tried to remember where Nicholas Everard was assigned

to stay. Was it the west or the east wing?

She hesitated at the foot of the grand staircase, her back already aching with the heavy weight she had to carry.

"Well?" asked Nicholas behind her. "Do you not know where I am assigned to?"

"I know, of course," she said, "my lord," she added, swallowing. "But one should be certain, yes?" she asked, carefully placing his bags on the floor. She reached for the list inside her breast pocket. With slightly shaking hands, she searched for Nicholas Everard's name. The west wing. Of course. "Ah, yes. The west wing," she said with a smile. "This way, my lord," she said, bending once more for his bag.

She stiffened as she heard Nicholas' light chuckle behind her.

"I have always had the same chamber, young man," he said behind her. "Are you new here?"

"Yes, milord," she lied, fighting a grunt. Bloody hell, his bags were heavy! How many months did he intend to stay here?

She sharply turned to the right which would lead them to the west wing.

"I am not in such a hurry, do slow down."

"But you are not the only master I ought to valet for today, my lord," she lied again, silently counting the doors on the right. When they reached his chamber, she pushed the door open with one shoulder and immediately went to a corner to drop his luggage.

Breathing heavily through flared nostrils, she rushed to the curtain and drew them aside to let the light from outside envelope the room. She turned and faced Nicholas Everard and found him smiling at her with amusement. "Do you wish for something else, milord?" she asked,

maintaining her low voice.

Nicholas walked to a winged chair and sat down, letting out a long sigh. "You can arrange my clothes for the ball later tonight," he said and she immediately jumped to her feet to do as he said. She walked over to the first bag to open it. She swallowed as she saw the carefully folded undergarments.

"Would you need help..." she asked, her voice faltering at the thought, "...help changing later, milord?" she finished.

"Well, of course. I can barely properly tie a cravat!" Nicholas said with a laugh.

"So do I," she murmured under her breath.

His loud laughter rang around the room. "A valet who cannot tie a cravat! How pathetic and amusing at the same time, young lad!"

Her face flushed. "Would you wish for another valet, milord? I could recommend one for you," she hopefully asked.

His green emerald eyes studied her for a moment, making her uncomfortable. Could he see through her disguise? Surely he could not. Her square jaw was a perfect mask, her thick brows highly suggestive of masculinity. But she made certain not to make eye contact for her pale grey eyes could give her away.

"Would you wish for another employment?" he asked instead of answering her inquiry.

She blinked in surprise. "Are you planning to report me, milord? For being a big failure with cravats?" she incredulously asked.

Nicholas Everard's deep laughter rumbled once more. "No, young lad. I meant if you wish to find another employment elsewhere. In Wickhurst, if I might be specific."

"But what would I do in Wickhurst?"

"Be a valet, of course,

you dumb fellow," he said, jumping to his feet. He walked toward her and her feet involuntarily took a few steps back. "I am in need of one, see?"

"But I have not yet proven myself to be what you might need for a valet," she uttered, clearing her throat, hoping that her voice was not giving her away.

"But I like one who is barely trained so he can be trained according to my own specifications," he said, looking her up and down. "You ought to grow more muscles, lad, but that can be arranged. My one remaining footman in residence can teach you everything you must do. I'd rather have someone flexible serving me than one who had already developed his own ways." He tilted his head to the side. "And most bloody valets have already developed their own ways in doing things and I am not one who has familiar ways as other lords."

"B-but I am already-"

"How much does the Theobalds pay you?" he asked.

How would she know that?

"I do not discuss personal financing, milord."

Nicholas Everard laughed. "I like you, young lad. You will be fun to be around. Not like those boring, formal ones." He straightened his coat. "Think of my offer. You can find me in Wickhurst. I have an apartment at the junction of Vinge Road and Dosett Street. Dare be specific with your inquiries and ask for Nicholas Everard's residence. Do not enter Dosett Street for that is where one brother of mine lives and you would not wish to valet him."

She frowned. "Whyever not, milord?"

He narrowed his eyes. "He's a Town Guard and proud of it. You would not wish to be around him, lad."

She simply blinked

for she did not know what to say. The mere picture of her working for someone else outside Theobald was difficult to grasp.

"And dare not go into Vinge Road."

"Whyever not, milord?" she asked. Her eyes met his emerald ones and Maxine found it hard to look away.

Bloody hell, Nicholas Everard was handsome. His neatly combed hair, his gentle and mesmerizing gaze with wickedness lurking at the corners, his well-shaped nose and chiseled chin... everything about him was more spellbinding up close.

Maxine hastily blinked away and took another step back.

"That is where my other pathetic brother lives. You would not wish to meet him, of course. He's had valets running from his household to seek refuge in mine, I tell you."

Maxine blinked once more and nodded. "I shall think about it, milord."

"Remember," he said, enforcing his words with one finger, "The apartment at the junction of Vinge Road and Dosett Street."

She could not help but smile at his seemingly childish manner. "Yes, milord," she replied.

A satisfied smile crossed his handsome face. She had never met another Everard, but she had heard of them. By far, their eldest brother was the most familiar name because of his scars, but the fourth brother, Nicholas Everard, was famous amongst servants and ladies alike. He was the handsome rake of the family. One look at him had told Maxine that this was the Everard brother that everyone had been whispering about in every Theobald party.

"Very well, I must go and find myself a gaming room before my mother and sisters drag me around in the ball later tonight."

Without much of another glance at her, Nicholas Everard turned and walked to the door.

"By the by, lad," he said, stopping at the doorway. "What is your name?"

Maxine swallowed. She was not prepared to be asked such question. "Max," she found herself answering and nearly regretted it.

He laughed. "Famous! Just famous!"

She frowned. "I do not find my name funny, milord."

"But I do, Max, I do!" He disappeared from the room, his chuckles growing distant.

With a frown, Maxine looked around the room. She stared down at the open luggage and the undergarments inside it.

With a sigh, she turned and briskly walked out of the room to find a footman to help her.

Being a valet was no easy task after all.

And being a valet to Nicholas Everard was proving to be quite disturbing.

III. The Missing Half

"You told us you are staying inside your room," her stepmother said as she dragged Maxine down the empty corridor.

Maxine grimaced. "I did, but I did not say I might change my mind," she replied, voice low.

"I do not know what I should do with you, truly," Lady Theobald said with frustration. "Your father and I are-"

"Do not worry, Lady Theobald," she interjected and for a second saw the pain flash before her stepmother's eyes.

She was aware of the fact that the woman had always desired for her to call her Mother, one thing Maxine could not ever bring herself to do.

Ignoring Lady Theobald's reaction, Maxine continued, "I shall return to my room. No one will have to find me. Tell father not to fret. No need to escort me, I know my way around."

As she said it, she pulled her arm away from her stepmother and continued to walk toward the staircase, one that was forbidden for the guests, and one that would lead to her secret bedchamber.

She had changed her costume after having served Nicholas Everard. There was no way she could go back and help him change into his evening attire. Being a maid was better, but it also allowed her father and stepmother to recognize her earlier during dinner when she had boldly walked into the hall to serve the guests.

"You cannot keep doing this, Maxie," said her stepmother when she was halfway up the stairs. Maxine looked over her shoulder to where the woman was standing below and her heart swelled. Rachel Theobald had more than accepted her. The woman had made her feel like she was one of her own

children.

"Do not worry, my lady, I shall not cause more trouble," she said with a smile. "For tonight, that is," added with a wicked smile and chuckled when her stepmother helplessly shook her head, trying hard to hide her own amusement. "Go back to the party. I shall retire for the night."

Lady Theobald narrowed her eyes at her like she did when she and her brothers were little and had caused trouble around the household. "Prepare for your father's wrath, Maxine Theobald."

Maxine snorted and allowed an exaggerated curtsy. "I shall, my lady, and I hope you will save my neck once more."

Her stepmother laughed and walked away without another word.

Maxine turned to continue her way up the stairs, ready to retire for the night. Having carried Nicholas Everard's heavy luggage earlier still left her muscles sore.

She had just entered the door of an empty room that would lead to a secret door to her bedchamber when she heard a voice. Pushing the door just enough to allow a small opening, Maxine waited. No one was allowed to enter this part of the manor.

"You do not know where they went," a man's voice hissed.

"Hush!" a female voice answered back.

Maxine stepped away from the door when she saw a woman in a heavy gown and a man in black suit walk past her door. Her jaw tightened.

They must have seen her with her stepmother and followed them here. She was completely aware of the gossip surrounding her and they must be two of the people who were lucky to have heard Lady Gedge's secret gossip about the Theobalds' dark secret.

Crossed to have

had her privacy invaded once more after that stupid scavenger hunt that Lady Gedge had concocted in hopes of revealing the Theobald bastard years ago, Maxine pulled the door open and walked out of the room. The pair had their backs at her. "Why are you following me?" she sternly demanded.

Both of them jumped to their feet and whirled around, faces surprised to have been caught.

"No one is allowed to lurk in this part of the mansion."

She haughtily lifted her chin, forgetting for a moment that she was dressed as a servant and as one she ought not to be talking to the guests-or look at them-in such a manner.

But when the black-haired lady finally moved and walked toward her, Maxine recognized her. She was Nicholas Everard's sister from the carriage earlier. The blonde man she did not recognize.

"Remove yourselves from this part of the manor," she told the woman, voice filled with warning.

"Please forgive us," the man said behind the Everard woman. "We were lost. We shall go." Maxine caught the lie, of course.

"Is it true?"

Maxine snapped her head toward the lady.

"What?" she snapped, looking over her shoulder down the empty corridor behind her, checking to see if they had more company and found none. "That I am the bastard child of Lord Theobald?" she asked when the lady remained stupefied. There was no use wasting her time trying to guess what the two strangers were thinking. It was clearly painted on the woman's eyes that she knew of her existence.

The Everard woman gulped. "Yes." Honest. Maxine liked that.

"We must

go," the man said beside the lady while Maxine tried to remember all the names of the Everard siblings her brother had talked about. Samuel was friends with most of them.

The Everard woman ignored her companion and continued to stare at Maxine. "I will not tell anyone if you are worried about that."

Maxine's lips twitched. She let out a snort. "If you say so."

"What is your name?"

Maxine narrowed her eyes as she frowned. This lady was too bloody persistent.

"We must go, Lady Ysabella," the man said, voice growing sharp.

Maxine's eyes widened when she heard the name. "Ysabella Everard," she said with familiarity, voice lighter now.

Ysabella smiled. "You have heard of me. Marvellous!"

"Not everything I heard about you was marvellous," she countered wryly. "My brother told me about you."

Ysabella shrugged and Maxine allowed herself to study her for a while. Unlike her brothers and the sister she was with earlier, Ysabella Everard had a fuller face, making her look younger than her age. And if she was correct to remember the information her brother had given her, Ysabella was merely four years younger than her.

Her attention returned to the present as Ysabella said, "Well, we cannot please everyone." She motioned her head to his companion who looked as though he was ready to burst. "Ask him about me and you shall hear naught but words of frustrations."

She stared at the man for some time, wondering why these two were together alone away from the party. Brushing away her curiosity, she returned her eyes to Ysabella and said, "Maxine. My name's Maxine."

She

was quite surprised to realize that it felt good to tell a stranger her real name.

Ysabella Everard smiled. Suddenly Nicholas' laughing face flashed before her eyes and she mentally shook her head. "I am very glad to meet you, Maxine, I wish to-"

"Now, go," Maxine ordered, reaching for the door beside her.

"Can I ask a question?"

"She wants us to go, Ysabella," Ysabella's companion sternly said.

Maxine paused but did not say a word, waiting for the question.

"Why have they kept you a secret all these years?"

The moment after Ysabella asked the question, alarm crossed her features as though she expected Maxine to claw on her face. But Maxine simply frowned at her. She watched as the man took Ysabella by the elbow to guide her away, his face alarmed, quite sure that Ysabella had gone too far with her question.

She did not know why she answered, mayhap because no one had ever asked her the question before and she wanted to answer it. "They don't keep me a secret," she said, causing the two intruders to pause and look at her with expectant looks on their faces. "I keep myself a secret," she added, turning to push the door open. "Go." Without another word she disappeared behind the door, smiling at Ysabella's dumbfounded look.

Maxine walked away from the door and blindly found her way to the wall and found the panel that was her door. She pushed it open and closed it behind her with a sigh, leaving the other side an empty room.

Her large bedchamber greeted her with utter silence.

Her large bed faced the large window across the room. She stared at a

distant hole as moonlight shone down from aboveground.

Locking her door, she walked back to her closet to change her clothes.

Her mind briefly remembered Nicholas Everard. Had he ever wondered why the young valet never returned?

With a scoff, Maxine shook her head.

Too much had happened today.

She was not bothered about Ysabella Everard. Samuel had as much told her the woman could be trusted with anything as Ysabella had kept a big secret of hers for years. Maxine chose to believe her brother.

*****

Maxine proved the very next day that she truly ought to consider transferring to another secret room when the door to her chamber suddenly flung open, rendering her surprised and horrified when she saw Ysabella standing in her doorway with a plate in one hand.

It reminded her of that moment years ago when a woman had found her secret room during Lady Gedge's scavenger hunt.

"What are you doing here?" Maxine demanded at Ysabella, rushing toward the woman.

"Why are you dressed as a servant?" Ysabella asked instead, looking at her with a frown. When Maxine continued to stare at her in panic, Ysabella added, "I am alone, I promise. I came by chance that you might wish to join me for a snack," she said, lifting her other hand to show a plate full of food.

Maxine stared at it. "That is more like a luncheon for a starving traveller rather than a snack."

"Well, I like heavy snacks."

Maxine sighed. It was not wise for Ysabella to be here. She may be Samuel's friend, but she was not Maxine's. "You should go. You must not be seen here."

"Well, that can

be easily arranged," Ysabella said, turning around to close the panel door. When she faced Maxine once again, she smiled. "Well? Would you like to join me for a snack?"

Maxine stared at her for a long time before letting out another sigh. There was something about Ysabella Everard that was quite enchanting.

You never had friends before, a voice said in her head.

Well, that was quite true. She gave her head a little shake to Ysabella a stern look.

"If you are not Samuel's friend, I would throw you out." She pointed to the table. "You can eat there."

Ysabella sauntered toward the table and sat on the chair. "I take that you have a good relationship with Samuel?"

"Of course. He is my brother."

Ysabella started eating the pie and Maxine watched her, not knowing what to do. Surely she ought to know how to entertain a guest! "But you choose not to be introduced to society. Why?" Ysabella asked.

Maxine's eyes flickered with irritation. "Because I do not wish for it. I rather like it here."

Ysabella's gaze bothered her. It was as though she could read Maxine's mind, as though the girl could see her heart's deepest desires. "You mean you like hiding yourself in this large manor."

"My life is quite different without this dratted weekend parties, if you must know," she snapped.

"Oh, so you can freely go about if there are no guests!" was Ysabella's innocent remark.

"Of course," Maxine said, walking over to the bed to sit. "Do be quick and finish your food."

"How old are you?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I am a curious individual."

"Four

and twenty." As a matter of fact, her birthday was coming in a few weeks to signify how she had wasted twenty-five years of her life in nowhere else but Theobald.

"Hmm," Ysabella hummed thoughtfully. "Samuel is older by four years."

"You mean our father committed a sin against his marriage even after having sired an heir," Maxine wryly retorted.

She expected Ysabella to look horrified, but such was not the case.

"No, I did not mean to say that," Ysabella nonchalantly said. "So, would you ever answer my question? Why are you dressed as a servant?"

Maxine could not help the smile that curved her lips, her eyes glimmering wickedly. "I do play different roles during the weekend parties. A year ago, I did try to dress as a footman before father caught me."

Ysabella laughed. "It must be fun."

Maxine nodded. "Two years ago, I succeeded as an old maidservant. I even helped two or three guests get dressed."

Ysabella's laughter rang around the room. "I ought to take lessons from you, then!"

"Do be quick. I wish to retire early," Maxine said instead. She did not wish to get used to having guests in her chambers.

Ysabella finished her food. "Do you have something to drink? I regret I forgot to bring water."

Maxine sighed and went to her feet. She walked over to the side of her bed where a glass and a pitcher of water stood. As she poured, Ysabella studied her closely. "Is dressing up a way for you to entertain yourself?"

"Somewhat, yes." She walked over to Ysabella and handed the glass.

"Have you ever tried to pretend you are one of

the guests instead? So you could enjoy the parties."

Maxine shook her head. "It is too risky. They might recognize me."

"Why do you fear it so?"

She frowned. "I am a bastard. I'd ruin my father's name if my identity should become public."

"Has your family expressed the same fears?"

"No, they-" Maxine stopped herself and shook her head. "No, it is better that I stay hidden."

Ysabella was looking at her with disbelief. "Then what do you plan to do for the rest of your life? Surely you cannot stay hidden forever!"

"Of course I can. I love it here." That, of course, was half the truth and half a lie.

"But you have not seen the rest of the outside. Even I who is free to roam around the Town dreams of what the world aboveground is like. Do you not wonder of the same things, of what it would be like outside the Theobald estate?"

Maxine's eyes wavered. "No, not really."

Liar! A voice in her head shouted. She had spent many nights dreaming of the rest of the world. She had read books after books of the many adventures of people everywhere.

"Instead of imprisoning yourself, you should start living your life without fear, dear Maxine. You ought to live."

Live. What an exciting, fearful word.

Brushing off the sudden desire for something that Ysabella's words had suggested, Maxine narrowed her eyes at the woman. "Do not tell me how I ought to lead my life, Ysabella Everard. I very well know how to make the most of it."

"Oh, very well, if you must say so. But should you change your mind, I tell you in advance that society could be truly brutal to those

who are different, but they too are forgetful. They will feast on you for days, weeks and even months, but soon your scandal would become old and a new one would come and you shall be forgotten."

She had heard the same thing from her stepmother, her brothers and even her father. She scoffed it off, causing Ysabella to smile with resignation.

"Would you still be here next year?" Ysabella asked.

"Where else would I be? Of course."

"I could see you then?"

Maxine hesitated. "If you insist."

"Could I send you letters?"

She could already see herself writing letters to Ysabella. "If you wish it," she replied, "but do not expect a reply."

Ysabella smiled at her. "I am the queen of missives, dear. I do know how to make even the most notorious of rakes scribble a reply."

Maxine simply shook her head although she took a hint that there was something behind Ysabella's statement. Ignoring the curiosity for it might merely cause the lady to stay longer, Maxine urged the woman to finish the rest of her food.

Later that night, she lay in bed thinking and wondering what it would be like to be Ysabella Everard-to be free and be so certain of who and what you were.

She fell asleep without answers.

*****

The Theobald weekend party ended in the same manner it always did-everyone eventually left.

Maxine watched through the glass of her window as the Everards said their goodbyes to Lord and Lady Theobald. Nicholas was standing behind the family like a good gentleman that he was expected to be, guarding his mother and sisters and the other lady that

was with them. Ysabella and Emma were talking with their friend in whispers, giggling as their mother and Lady Theobald talked.

When everyone was ready to depart, Lady Alice Everard turned to her children. Ysabella said something to Nicholas who then said something back to his sister, causing Emma and their friend to chuckle. Ysabella made a move to hit Nicholas' arm but their mother cried out and said something that caused everyone to stop and stare. And then Lady Alice added something and everyone suddenly burst out laughing.

Maxine found herself grinning over something she did not even understand. Although she did not hear a word, she knew she would have laughed with the Everards. She had heard stories about their mother and she had at once wondered what it would be like to be in her presence.

She had witnessed Lady Alice and her children yesterday. She saw how they interacted, how they talked and how they laughed over something. She saw it from a distance while she was dressed as a servant. As a matter of fact, she saw many of such relationship during the parties.

Some were quite different as well. There were those mothers who made desperate attempts to push their daughters toward a bachelor. There were those who scolded and nagged about gowns and parties and husbands. And then there were those like the Everards.

She watched as Nicholas gave his mother's head a quick kiss before the woman entered the carriage and Maxine realized she might never know what it would feel like to be like the Everard children.

They knew their parents. They lived with their mother.

She, on the other hand, was deprived by the other half of her lineage.

Turning away from the window, Maxine told herself that she ought to be happy now. The guests were almost gone and she could once more roam Theobald freely. She could go out and bask under one of the holes around the estate with a good book in hand. She could once more be with her worker friends, her stepmother and her father. She could once more have the place to herself.

She would once more be content to be alone.

Yet now she knew it not to be true.

Something was missing. Something was nagging at her, wanting to be found.