-10-

When Clare first heard the word 'castle', she imagined an old crumbling ruin or a Victorian-style mansion fitted for a Dracula's movie set, but what she encountered was the exact opposite.

Their cars navigated through a long stretching road that seemed to pierce through a grove of oak trees. Afterward, they reached the stone walls covered with evergreen hedges and went through a wrought iron gate embedded with a golden shield of the family coat of arms.

The gate opened automatically for the Roll-Royce Phantom, and it crawled smoothly over the cobblestone driveway. Clare was fascinated by the view of intricately varied grounds as they passed a wildflower meadow, a fairly large pristine pond, and the garden groves. Shirley told Clare that some of the trees were imported from Portugal, Spain, and Italy, lemon trees, oleander, palm and pomegranate trees, some more than two hundred years old.

A while later, Clare had the first glimpse of the courtyard set on both sides of the driveway. She marveled at the great parterre, consisting of plant beds that formed systematical patterns around marble fountains and statues.

At last, they approached the castle's grand entrance. Averbury's principal block was a rectangle. The solid and huge entrance portico resembled more the entrance to a pantheon than a family home. It was the first time that Clare had a slight prickling chill inside her stomach. She didn't know what in the world she'd got herself into.

Climbing out of the passenger side, Clare looked at her surroundings like a lost child. Shirley walked up to her and put her arms on Clare's shoulders.

"Relax, you're going to be fine," she said. "I know it's a bit intimidating but you will get used to it."

Clare nodded with a tiny unsure smile.

The secretary led her through the massive oak doors and into a stately hall, which had a neoclassical plaster ceiling that filled with light and motifs.

"Now, here we are at the Averbury Castle, home of the Wintour family, who'd been settled since the twelfth hundreds," Shirley told Clare as they walked through the hallway. "The castle was even referred to as an actual palace at one point, probably the only non-royal country house to hold the title back in the day. I guess the later Wintours just called it a castle to not draw too much attention."

After a long winding walk through many rooms, Clare was brought to a sitting area where the summer light streamed through the tall windows. It was an amazingly lit beautiful room, more Moroccan in design than European.

"This is a renovated drawing-room," Shirley said and motioned for Clare to take a seat on a navy blue couch with gold floral prints. "I hope you're not too tired from the long drive?"

"Not at all, Shirley," Clare said with a shake of her head. Her new bangs complimented her jovial face beautifully, and her choice of outfits for the day was nothing sort of elegant. Shirley was even eager to see what her employer would think of the lovely Clare Leighton.

"Good then, I guess you can wait for the Duchess here."

"Today? I thought we were already done with the briefing."

Shirley laughed. "I'm afraid not. Her Grace wishes to see you in person first."

"So that means if I don't pass her screening test, then...?"

"I don't think you will fail, Clare," Shirley said to reassure her. "And considering her situation right now, she needs to have a good reason not to pass you. But let's just say, the first meeting with Violet Wintour wouldn't necessarily be the most easy-going affair."

"One more thing, Shirley," Clare said. "When I see her, what should I do? Should I curtsy?"

"Just be yourself," Shirley said. "We don't expect you to know all the formal protocols right away, but to be on the safe side, just remember to address her as Your Grace unless being told otherwise."

Clare nodded again.

When the secretary left the room, Clare was served with afternoon tea and gourmet cakes by the unduly polite maids.

Clare didn't know what to make of all this yet. She just had to brace herself and hope for the best. She hardly paid attention to the newspapers or internet articles, therefore, she knew almost nothing about the woman, but from what she gathered recently, the Duchess had been the focal point of attention for many reasons, mainly her wealth, beauty and love scandals. She already saw her photographs in the business magazines before, but Clare wasn't sure how the Duchess would be like in person.

~*~

Violet Wintour walked with her head held high and her face unsmiling. There was no reason for her to look amiable with the stranger in her house right now, and she didn't plan to make an effort either.

Before entering the room, Violet already had a firm image of her fake bride as a regular common girl and nothing more. She had no interest in her looks or her personality. She expected all of that to be as fake as the whole marriage was going to be. The only important thing was whether or not the girl could keep a secret.

Clare heard the door opened and looked up as the woman of the house stepped inside. Her back stiffened out of instinct. She didn't know what to do, whether she should stand or stay still or smile at that unsmiling face. In the end, Clare did nothing but stared.

The Duchess had those piercing sea-blue eyes that seemed almost glacial. Her waist-length hair was all shiny like spun gold and nicely curled at the ends despite being otherwise naturally straight. She had well-defined luscious lips that set in perfect proportion with her high nose. Though slender, Violet Wintour still gave off an air of regality and power.

"Your Grace, this is Clare Leighton," Shirley introduced. Clare finally collected herself and stood up with a small bow. She was wearing a seaweed-colored pleated skirt that showed her fine calves. The sleeveless white blouse elegantly hugged her feminine body and her ample chest. Clare wore her light brown hair in a neat bun, which revealed her slender neck.

Violet's set jaw and taut shoulders loosened as she found Clare's face wasn't as ugly or plain as she had remembered, although, in her preordained view, the Duchess decided that she wasn't noticeably beautiful either.

Clare formed a friendly smile on her lips, displaying her dimples. Violet's blonde brows deepened into a confused scowl. It was as if Clare's pleasant presence had done some damage to her mood. The young Duchess turned away before throwing herself in an armchair and crossed her legs.

"I have no time for trivial talks," Violet declared. "Let's get this bloody thing over with."