Duchess by Mistake (13 page)

Caro inclined her head. "A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Hudson, and pray, dear lady, you must now refer to my sister-in-law as
your grace
."

Mrs. Hudson's eyes rounded as she peered at Elizabeth. "You married a duke?"

Pride surged within Elizabeth, and she nodded. "The Duke of Aldridge. You met him a couple of weeks ago."

Mrs. Hudson dipped into a pronounced curtsey. "I offer my felicitations on your marriage. I believe the duke has chosen well."

"It's I who am the fortunate one," Elizabeth said.

"Would it be excessively rude of me to say how handsome is your duke?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

All three of the Ponsby women giggled.

"We are accustomed to women swooning over our brother," Caro said, a trickle of laughter ringing in her voice. "People expect dukes to be stooped over with age and possessed of white hair."

Another slender woman carrying a babe edged up behind Mrs. Hudson. She was older than Mrs. Hudson—perhaps thirty. Dark hair framed her pale face in which were set large brown eyes that were as solemn as she.

Mrs. Hudson introduced Mrs. Leander, who curtsied when she addressed the duchess.

"I told Mrs. Leander she and her little ones could take the bedchamber beside mine. Is that all right?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

"It matters not to me. I think, though, that chamber's too small for five children," Elizabeth said. "Please, Mrs. Leander, feel free to select a larger one. Unfortunately, the children will have to stay in their mother's bedchamber so we can make the home available to more families in need."

Tears began to stream down Mrs. Leander's pallid cheeks.  "I don't know what me and my children would have done had you not made this wonderful house available to us."

Elizabeth was powerless not to tear up herself. "We are all happy to help, but it will be up to you widows to devise a division of labor."

Mrs. Leander's face brightened. "I am accounted a fair cook."

The Ponsby sisters nodded, and Margaret said, "That's wonderful."

 "My brother, who is serving in the Peninsula, has furnished me a list of widows from his regiment. He narrowed it to those who reside in London. I shall see if I can find them and invite them to make their home here." Elizabeth addressed Philip's sisters. "Whilst I go off looking for the other widows, I shall need you two to draw up a list of needed items."

Caro nodded. "Things like candles, bed linens, coal . . . items that must be acquired."

"Oh, goodness, I forgot about coal!" Elizabeth turned to Mrs. Hudson. "Were you warm enough last night?"

The widow nodded. "We were so very grateful to have a roof over our heads and blankets to cover us."

Throughout the rest of the day as Elizabeth crisscrossed London, bringing more desperate families to Number 7, she fought back tears many times. Nothing she had ever done had given her such satisfaction.

Another of the widows, a Mrs. Boyle, also had five children. Elizabeth found her living with her sister in a flat in Hackney, where twelve children slept on the floor of the flat's only room. Elizabeth had never in her life seen people live in such straightened circumstances.

At the end of the day, five families were residing at Number 7, where the air was filled with the aroma of a rich broth Mrs. Leander was cooking.

Elizabeth planned to continue locating the rest of the widows each day until the house was filled.

When she and the sisters returned to Aldridge House, they were exhausted.

"I declare," an enthusiastic Caro said, "I have never enjoyed myself as excessively as I did today."

A smile on her kindly face, Margaret nodded. "I believe I've lost my heart to Mrs. Leander's little lad."

"The babe?" Caro asked.

"Yes. He's just learned to walk, but his mother likes to hold him to keep him from falling down stairs."

"So that's why you kept holding him?"

"To protect him—and because he felt so very good in my arms."

Elizabeth smiled at tender-hearted Margaret. "Then you must wed and have a babe of your own."

There was a wistful expression on Margaret's face. "Now I know why Lady Lydia wishes to nurse her lad."

Caro's nose wrinkled with distaste. "I would never!"

"What of you?" Margaret asked Elizabeth.

It only then occurred to Elizabeth that at this moment she could be increasing with Philip's babe. Her cheeks grew hot even though the notion of breeding filled her with happiness. "I should have to defer to Philip."

Caro stiffened. "Why would you consult him? It's your body!"

At that moment Elizabeth felt as if it was no longer her body or Philip's body. They belonged to each other. How could she explain that to a maiden? "I shouldn't like to do anything to displease dear Philip."

"I think that's wonderfully admirable," Margaret said. "It's obvious you're in love with your husband."

"I hope I'm not too obvious. What man wants a smothering wife?"

As she trudged up the stairs to her chambers, she almost wished they weren't going to the theatre that night. How she would enjoy sitting by the fire in her chamber whilst the Duke and Duchess of Aldridge shared with each other an accounting of their day's events.

As it was, she needed to be ready for the theatre in an hour.

When she reached the third level, she heard Barrow's shaking voice filling the stairwell. "Has the new duchess come?"

"Aye," the footman answered. "She's just gone upstairs."

"Did I not give you the note his grace sent around for her?"

"You did not, sir."

Barrow spoke to himself. "Dear me, where did I put it?"

"I'm sure as I couldn't say, sir."

By the time poor old half-blind Barrow found the note and climbed the stairs to deliver it to her, Philip could very well be home. She pivoted and came right back downstairs.

She could hear the elderly butler talking to himself. "Now where did I go? Let me see, I went to . . . "

The footman shouted to be heard. "I saw that you went into the library to put the duke's post on his desk."

"That must be where I left it!"

She found Barrow in the library, his gnarly hand clutching a wrinkled piece of foolscap. "You have saved me from walking upstairs," he said. "The duke sent you this."

She thanked him, took the letter, and opened it.

Dearest Elizabeth,

I regret to inform you that I won't be able to get away. Please go on to the theatre without me.

He signed it with a capital
A
.

The lighting may have been dim that night at Theatre Royal Drury Lane, but not so dim that Elizabeth was not aware that all eyes were directed at the Duke of Aldridge's box. Even those in the pit lifted their gazes to gawk at the new duchess. She held her shoulders high and attempted to exude a satisfied countenance. Would she be able to conceal from all these people her deep humiliation? Her first trip to the theatre as the Duchess of Aldridge, and she was not accompanied by her husband. That single occurrence would not have been so embarrassing if it hadn't been preceded by her first visit to Almack's as a duchess—also without her newly wedded husband.

The Duke of Aldridge's box on this night was occupied solely by women.

She shouldn't care what others thought, but since her scandalous behavior nearly three weeks previously, she did. Philip's disinterest in being with his wife sent a signal that the duke had married her only because he was forced to do so. Had that been the case, she would never have consented to marry him. He had convinced her that he
wanted
to marry her. He wanted her for his duchess, and he wanted her for the mother of his children—a thought that melted her insides to the consistency of warm butter.

Now he no longer acted as if he were a married man.

Ever since she had come out, she had hoped for a revival of this play. She had heard so much about it. But now that she had the opportunity to see Sheridan's most-favored play, her personal woes distracted her attention from the actors on the stage.

Though the actress portraying Lady Teazdale looked nothing like Lady Melbourne, it was widely believed that Sheridan had modeled the character on her. That notorious Whig matriarch had never been on good terms with Elizabeth's mother. When in Lady Melbourne's sphere, Lady Haverstock had a propensity to drop handkerchiefs, fans, or theatre programs—anything she happened to be holding—to have a reason to stoop over and avoid having to greet the wicked Lady Melbourne.

"Do you see Lady Melbourne's in her box tonight?" whispered Lydia, who sat at Elizabeth's left.

Elizabeth nodded. "It's good that Mama's not with us since she believes all Whig women are scandalous."

"That's the Tory in her coming out. After all, Mama's blinded by her allegiance to the Tories, as was Papa, Mama's father, and all of her ancestors."

"She
is
massively resistant to new ways."

Lydia harrumphed. "I have tried and tried to persuade her not to travel about in her ancient sedan chair. People just don't use them much anymore."

"It's not unlike the way she always insisted Papa powder his hair long after such a practice had fallen from fashion."

While she sat in their darkened box, her mind wandering, Elizabeth was startled to realize that Belle Evans sat in a box directly across the theatre from their box. Elizabeth was unable to avert her gaze from the beautiful woman. Belle Evans was taller than average and possessed of rich, dark hair which accentuated the milky white of her skin. Her well-hanging pink dress and gray plume in her hair indicated the courtesan had unerringly good taste.

Were she not so notorious, no one seeing her for the first time would ever know the lovely woman had debased herself in so profligate a manner. Why had she thrown propriety to the gutter?

It wasn't for Elizabeth to judge. She had been born to a privileged class. She knew that many young girls were forced into prostitution at a tender age to keep from starving. Perhaps Belle Evans came from so unfortunate a circumstance.

Though Belle Evans's head turned toward the stage, Elizabeth was sure the courtesan was watching her.

A pity that Philip must have at some point been on intimate terms with her.

Elizabeth prayed that was no longer the case.

The very idea of him lying with another woman put her in a bleak mood. She wondered if he might even be with another woman right now.

But as she looked over those assembled, she realized none of the men she knew to be members of the House of Lords were in attendance though many of their wives were. Relief washed over her. The House of Lords must still be in session!

Philip wasn't being an unfaithful husband. He was being a dutiful citizen. She was ever so proud of him.

During the intermission, Lydia took her leave. "Must dash off to feed my little angel."

As she was leaving, Richie was entering the Duke of Aldridge's box. He came to sit in the seat vacated by Lydia. "I see that you are once again being neglected by that husband of yours," he said playfully.

"Do you not think he might still be at the House of Lords?" she asked shyly, afraid he would refute her statement.

"Of course he is. I expect they won't quit the chamber until after midnight."

Then I shall wait up for him.
One night she could be patient. On the second night, though, she would allow herself to become Philip's barnacle. "I must own I am very ignorant about government, but now I find myself wishing to learn. Will you help me? No one's more knowledgeable than you."

He smiled. "I should be happy to. May I collect you for a ride in the park tomorrow afternoon?"

If she started early in the day, she should be able to devote five or six hours to the widows, which would allow her to be available for a drive in Hyde Park at four. "That would be delightful."

After the theatre, Cook had a cold supper for them and a few of the sisters' friends who stopped by. Elizabeth ate a few bites, then excused herself. "It's been a very long day, and I'm tired."

As she climbed the stairs she heard Caro tell the others what fun they'd had that day, and she began to explain about the home for widows.

Just on the third step, Elizabeth spun around, returned to the dinner room, and addressed Barrow. She had learned that she must elevate her voice when speaking to him. "If the duke should return whilst the food is still laid, would you offer to send him a tray to my chamber?"

"Yes, your grace."

As she was leaving the dinner room the second time, she heard Caro soliciting donations to purchase additional beds for Number 7 Trent Square.

Finally, an occurrence over which Elizabeth could smile this night.

In her room, she and Fanny selected a soft muslin night shift of snowy white, embroidered with lilacs. It was her favorite. Because she was not going directly to bed and because the room was chilly, they found her ivory Kashmir shawl to throw over her shoulders. Fanny came to set a candelabra near the settee so that Elizabeth could read. After Fanny left, Elizabeth raced to her husband's dressing room. This time she left the door to his dressing room ajar and hers open wide. She would not countenance missing him another night.

A knock sounded upon her chamber door. She was certain Philip wouldn't come that way. "Who is it?"

"I've brought your tray, your grace." It was the footman. Barrow must not have heard her correctly. She could not permit the footman to see her in her night shift! "If you will, please take it to the duke's chamber. It is for him I requested it."

"Very well, your grace."

She waited several minutes before she moved to his bedchamber to fetch the tray and bring it to her chamber. Then she settled back on the settee and returned to her book,
The Memoirs of Lord Chatham
. She had selected it because, as the first William Pitt, Lord Chatham had preceded his son—their country's leader through most of her life—as head of the government. Reading his recollections about his career in government would help inform her.