Freedom Read Online Free Page A

Francine, who relaxed immediately, letting out a desperate sigh as she sank into the mattress.
     
    This is not happening.
     
    Mrs. Weston was preparing a breakfast tray for her new charge when the small chime rang, calling her to the main guest suite. “Ah, Your Grace, I hope this girl is worthy of your kindness,” she said under her breath. She hurried through the kitchen, seeing that dinner was being prepared in a timely manner, and walked out to the entry, pausing only to inspect the new day’s work.
     
    The great entrance of Eildon Manor opened to the morning and Mrs. Weston liked to see it cleaned early so Roxleigh could enjoy the sunrise. Enormous, solid cherry doors graced the front, surrounded by leaded glass windows. The room itself was a rotunda, everything about it meant to set off the large, round table centered in the entry, which would easily seat thirty guests. It had been designed, constructed, and inlaid with more than fifty types of wood that were brought as tributes from around the world to Roxleigh’s great-great grandsire, Marcus Avris Trumbull, the sixth duke, who had designed and built the manor. Above the table, floating below the large, stained-glass dome, hung a crystal chandelier of the same scale.  
     
    Across from the entry loomed the grand staircase, which mirrored the shapes of the table and the chandelier. It protruded into the perfect circle of the room at its first step and rose, gently narrowing to the first floor, where the dark wall panels concealed a private parlor. The only evidence of the parlor was the row of high placed windows that signified a great, airy room which overlooked the whole of the valley at the back of the manor.
     
    The sweeping design of the grand staircase masked the private stairways that led to passages woven throughout the walls. They ensured the servants could carry out their duties as masters required: quickly, quietly, and efficiently.
     
    Nearly every bedchamber—almost thirty of them—consisted of an intricate suite of rooms branching off from winding hallways in awkward patterns. It was an annoyance for guests who came to Eildon, as they often became lost and had to ring the servants’ bells to summon a rescue. The sixth duke, Marcus, had designed the layout in order to skulk around the manor to watch his guests, and all the goings-on, without being noticed. It also allowed him to keep both a mistress and a wife under the same roof.
     
    Mrs. Weston turned from her inspection and shuffled for the first floor guest suite, gathering her skirts. As she turned toward the wall to enter the passage behind the grand staircae, she noted Roxleigh’s curious glare from the door of his study. She nodded. He didn’t move, and she could feel him watching as she ascended the stairs and disappeared into the wall.
     
    Francine could see the maid next to the door through a breach in the curtains. She was wringing her hands as an older woman entered, the one from yesterday.
     
    “Mrs. Weston, ma’am, she only just woke. She hasn’t said anything yet, just groans and such. The light seemed to bother her, so I fell the tent.”
     
    Mrs. Weston nodded and carefully made her way across the room. “Miss,” she said as she pulled the curtain back on one side of the giant bed. “I am Mrs. Weston. I shall be attending you. If there is anything you need, please never hesitate to ask.”
     
    Francine buried her head in the pillows and closed her eyes. This isn’t possible. This is a dream.
     
    “You have had a terrible fright, I imagine, miss. His Grace would like to notify your family that you are safe.”
     
    Francine opened one eye and looked at the woman. Where the hell am I? She shook her head and closed her eyes again. Even if she understood the circumstances she was currently faced with, there was no one to notify. Wherever in the world she was, she was completely alone.
     
    She studied her surroundings. The solid wood furniture was thickly cushioned