Chapter 5

Apolla was now back in her room with Annabell. It was not much warmer, but she

could at least get comfortable. She sat on her bed playing with the hem of her skirt while

Annabell sat across on her bed knitting. They had a few conversations here and there but

for the most part were silent.

“So, I guess you are not on His Grace’s good side, are you?” Annabell asked. “I

mean he put you in the cellar. That seems like he doesn't really like you.”

“Well I’m going to guess he doesn't, but I really don't care.” she says. “I’m going

to be leaving here soon any ways, so it doesn't matter.”

She knew Annabell does not like hearing about her leaving but, this is not where

she belongs. I belong in the 21st century. Which is exactly where she was going back to.

***

If Apolla had to guess, it has now been a month since she had been there. And not

a fun month at that. If being put in the cellar was not enough to fix her attitude Westford

made her chores twice as much as they were before. Now she also had to cook, wash

dishes, clean almost every room in the manor by herself, and do the laundry. Annabell

offered to help her whenever she could but Apolla would always refuse, she got herself

in to this, so she was going to get herself out of it.

 After the next month she was starting to get the hang of things. She hardly needed

Annabell to wake her up any more in the mornings, she found out that her alarm still

worked on her phone even though it did eventually go dead. She also was getting faster

at her chores which Westford did not find pleasing. Many times, she would be going to

get breakfast or dinner as he was leaving or arriving home. She guessed things were not

going to be too bad here for the time being.

***

“So, have you heard about this ball,’’ Annabell asked. They were in their room her

knitting and Apolla resting her eyes. It had been a busy day.

“What ball?’’

“You have not heard?’’ she says shocked.

“No, I haven’t. What’s the party for’’

Apolla had not heard anything about there being a ball, is that what all the added

chores were for? Annabell explained to her that it another attempt by His Grace’s

Grandmother to marry him off…again. It seems that he always finds a way to get out of

it. I wonder why he does not want to marry, so she decided to ask her.

“Why won’t he marry anyone’’ she asked.

“He’s waiting for the perfect woman,’’ Annabell says.

“The perfect woman?’’

“Yes, he says he won’t marry until he finds her. Of course, it has been almost 5

years now since he said that.’’ She looks down at her needles as if she were thinking
about something. A few minutes had passed before she spoke again. “Sometimes I wish

that, that maybe I was the woman he is looking for. But I am just a maid. There is no

way that he would ever fall in love with me.’’

“Don’t be so sure,’’ Apolla say, “Your father, a Duke, did fall in love with your

mother, a maid.’’ Annabell laughed at her statement.

“Maybe so, but he never married her.’’ She had a point there.

“Well, perhaps he’ll find her this time,’’ she tried to say optimistically. “At least…

we can only hope.

***

After another few weeks, the ball was finally held. Apolla stayed in her room for

the beginning of it, Annabell was helping as one of the servers. She was laying on her

back when suddenly the door was opened. she sat up quickly only to see the butler

standing there.

“What do you want?” she asked. He did not answer he just grabbed her by the arm

and pulled her out of the room.

“You have been summoned.”

“By who?”

****

His grandmother. She had been summoned by his grandmother. What on earth

could she want with her, she had never met the woman and cannot stand her grandson.

Apolla should be the last person she should want to see.

 The butler leads her to the yellow salon. She had only been in there a few times,

every wall was yellow, hence the name. The couches a pure silk, so soft to the touch sat

next the warm fire. With them to finish the sitting area were also a pair of wing back

chairs, one was pulled closer to the fire. In it sat the Duke’s grandmother.

Hesitantly she come into the room. Stopping halfway she stood there for several

moments before deciding to say anything.

“Hello, my name is—”

“I know what your name is.”

She froze, what was she supposed to do in a situation like this? She has the

grandmother of a Duke, and she was just a maid, at least at that moment she was just a

maid.

“My grandson tells me you are not from here.” She continues. For the longest

time she just sits there before speaking, “Where are you from?”

Not this again. “I’m from America, 21th century America.” She gave her no

response, so she continued, “I was hit by a car on my way home and woke up here. I just

want to go home. Nothing more.”

She slowly rose from her seat. Approaching her she gave Apolla a stern look,

almost like her mother. Stopping in front of Apolla, her stern look changed to one of

deep thought, “Yes, you will do perfectly.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I’m sure your aware that my grandson has this notion that he can’t marry until he
finds this perfect woman. Well I’m positive you are the woman.” That had Apolla’s

mouth on the floor. Me? The perfect woman? For the Duke of Westford? No, she must

be wrong. She made her way to the other side of the room continuing to speak, “Let’s

see, of course you have already met but that was in your…other clothes…and as a maid,

but there is still some time tonight for a second meeting. All we need is to find you a---”

“No.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“No. You have the wrong person. I can’t be the perfect woman for him. We can’t

stand each other. All we do is fight.”

“That means nothing.” She waved her off. She had to make her understand.

“Your Grace, you must understand, nothing is going to change your grandson

opinion of me. Why would a pretty gown make a difference?”

“It makes a difference my dear because you are not like every other debutante in

that ballroom.” She moved over to a large rope hanging from the ceiling, pulling it

before turning back to Apolla. “Even if you did not get off on the right foot and seem to

disagree most times, feelings can change. With the right kind help of course.” Walking

past her, she headed toward the door. Another maid had entered without my noticing,

waiting patiently for the Duchess’ orders.

“Go fetch the gown laying on my bed along with my cosmetics. Bring a sewing

kit with you and few other maids.” The maid moved to follow her directions, but

stopped short as the Duchess spoke again, “and hurry would you. We don’t have much
time,” the maid hurried off. Turning around Apolla was once again the subject of her full

attention. “At least give it a try my dear. What is the worse that could happen?”

“Um I get kicked out on the streets? Your Grace it was a miracle he let me stay

here in the first place. I would really prefer not to push my luck further than I already

have. Now if I may be excused,” she made a small, though somewhat messy, curtsy and

began walking to the door.

“Halt.” she froze. Sighing the Duchess seemed like she was coming to the end of

her rope. “One night.”

“I’m sorry?”

“One night. You dance, talk, be civil with my grandson. If things go well, we will

move from there, if not…I will help make arrangements for you.”

“You can’t be serious?” With a scrupulous look she said nothing, just looked at

her. “Fine. I’ll go along with this ridiculous plan,”

“Excellent,” at that moment the maid returned with the items requested. “Oh

good, come Apolla, we have work to do.”