My Dear Duchess (24 page)

They galloped round a bend in the road and drew rein beside a light travelling vehicle which was upended in a ditch. “Halloa!” said the Duke. “Some traveller’s come to grief.” He drew closer and his lips tightened in a grim line. “By all that’s holy, that’s one of my travelling carriages. Something must have happened to Entwhistle and Dubble.”

They rode slowly on, looking for any sign of the steward and secretary. As they rounded another bend in the country road, they espied a small inn which seemed to be huddled down in the ditch. The Duke dismounted and strode into the tap, calling loudly for the landlord.

He was met instead by his secretary, James Entwhistle, who was descending the stairs and whose face lit up with relief when he saw his master.

“Oh, Your Grace,” he cried. “You must forgive me for not proceeding to Chartsay. We were overturned on the road and Mr. Dubble broke his leg and is now in a high fever. I did not like to leave him.”

“You did well,” said the Duke, fighting down a sudden qualm of anxiety for his wife. He rapidly mounted the stairs and pushed open the low door of a bedroom under the thatch. The landlord’s wife, who had been sitting beside the bed, rose to her feet at his entrance and made a low curtsy. “The fever is less,” she whispered. “I think he should not be moved.”

The elderly steward looked very small and frail on the bed. His face was very flushed and he turned his head restlessly from side to side in his sleep.

“Have you sent for the doctor?” asked the Duke, turning abruptly to Mr. Entwhistle.

“Yes, Your Grace. The landlord left as soon as the road was relatively clear.”

“Then you had better wait for him. I must ride on to Chartsay. I am concerned for my wife. I shall send several of the servants back with a heavy carriage and as soon as the fever has abated, have Mr. Dubble conveyed to Chartsay.”

The Duke’s face was drawn and worried as he remounted his horse and spurred on down the road. He should never have left Frederica alone with servants such as the Lawtons. They were probably bullying the life out of her.…

*   *   *

The Lawtons had been discovered in the ice house as Frederica had predicted. The fact that they intended to keep the jewels to themselves had alienated even their closest cronies and they found scant sympathy for their shivering state. Lawton retired to the kitchen to put his feet in a mustard bath, Mrs. Lawton to her room.

The shivering housekeeper pushed open her door. When she had thawed out, she would go downstairs directly and put Her Grace, the Duchess of Westerland, to the rightabout. No little upstart jade was going to get the better of her. No…

She froze on the threshold of her room as hundreds of pairs of eyes stared back at her. The knife boy had surpassed himself. There were hens on the mantle-shelf and ducks on the bed. A brace of pheasants stared at her curiously from the armchair and several pigeons roosted on the windowsill. The floor was covered with cackling, hissing, and screeching birds—a feathery sea of geese, hens, pigeons, grouse and pheasants. Mrs. Lawton screamed and screamed as the whole feathery flock disturbed by the noise rose as one bird to make their escape. Screaming and flailing her arms, she backed along the corridor as the heavy flap of wings beat about her head.

She ran headlong down the main staircase… and then stopped.

The Duchess of Westerland was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at her with a cold hard stare. Mrs. Lawton suddenly realized that she was as much terrified of the little Duchess as she was of the squawking, flapping birds and sank down on the stairs and burst into tears.

The servants had all come running into the hall, drawn by her frantic screams. Some ran about trying to catch the birds, some fell back before the small figure of the Duchess and tried to disappear back to the kitchen quarters, and other members of the female staff stood and screamed and held up their skirts.

The great door crashed open and the Duke and Chuffy stood on the threshold, looking as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.

Frederica came to life. “Oh, Chuffy, I am
so
glad you are come,” she cried, throwing herself into the large gentleman’s arms. Chuffy rolled his eyes towards the Duke for help and the Duke gently disengaged Frederica’s arms from Chuffy, feeling desolately that he had indeed left things too late.

“Chuffy! Go and find out who is behind this rumpus and dismiss who you will. I must talk to my wife.”

Chuffy hurried off and the Duke kept a firm hold of Frederica who was trying to break away. He led her into the long drawing room, noticing with fury that it was as cold as the day outside and that the hearth was black and empty.

He drew the struggling girl onto his knee on one of the Chesterfields and held her hands. “Frederica,” he said. “Please listen to me. I was wrong. Wrong all along. It was Jack Ferrand who was trying to come between us. And I was so angry because… because I love you so much.”

Frederica became suddenly still. “My dear,” he went on. “I will not force myself on you. I said it should be a marriage of convenience and so it shall remain, if you wish it. I certainly did not think I should fall in love… but there it is.”

They sat motionless. He was frightened to look at her face. The setting sun blazed across the snow outside and lit the enormous room with a fiery glow. Frederica gently laid her head on his shoulder like a weary child. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I began to think you would never love me back. In fact I began to think you hated me.…” His lips closed over hers as the fiery sunset died away and long shadows began to creep across the room.

At last she drew away a little and began to tell him her story in a faltering voice, of her escape from the Comte, of the fear she once had that he wanted to divorce her and marry Clarissa.

“Clarissa!” he cried, pulling her into his arms again. “That hell cat was working for Jack Ferrand. You shall never see her again, Frederica.”

Frederica gave a little sigh of relief and turned her face up to his. His kisses became more violent and both found that they were beginning to tremble with passion and cold.

He released her and laughed. “What a curst cold place to make love. Come let us find somewhere warmer.”

She shyly put her hand in his and he led her towards the door.

Chuffy had dismissed the Lawtons but they were waiting outside the door to plead their case with the Duke who would surely not listen to a wife he so despised.

The drawing room door swung open and the Duke and Duchess emerged, gazing into each others’ eyes. Like sleepwalkers they moved slowly across the hall towards their private apartments.

When they had disappeared, Chuffy grinned at the Lawtons. “Well, there’s your answer.” With bowed heads, the Lawtons left to attend to their packing.

Chuffy ate his dinner that evening in a solitary state as neither the Duke nor the Duchess showed any signs of joining him.

Later he leaned his large elbows on his windowsill to breath in the cold night air. The rumble of a masculine voice came from Frederica’s room, which was beneath his. It was answered by a rippling laugh from Frederica. Chuffy had never heard her sound so happy. With one great sentimental sigh, he closed the window, blew out the candle and climbed into bed.