The Wicked Wager (5 page)

“We are not leaving before the month is
over, and that is the end of it. Unpack the bags,” he ordered.

Burns stood looking torn. His full red
cheeks puffed in agitation. He finally sighed and did as he was told.

The earl gave a sharp nod, and after
checking his appearance in the dirty, cracked mirror nailed to the wall, he
proceeded to the duke’s estate.

***

“It is difficult to decide what to do?”

The earl stared at Mrs Purcell nervously.
She had to hire him; he couldn’t have it otherwise. The woman standing before
him was tall and thin faced, just the type he would have imagined the duke to
hire - capable and cold.

“What may be the problem, miss? Is
something out of order?”

“I received instructions from the duke, and
you come highly recommended. You seem to know your plants.”

The earl certainly hoped so. With his years
spent studying botany amongst other subjects at Oxford, he had better know his
roots from his shoots.

Not to mention the entire day he had spent
toiling in his own field being instructed by ten terribly boisterous and
contradictory gardeners.

“It is your name. How am I supposed to call
out to you? It will not do for a lady to utter such a name. Even writing it
down in the books would be mortifying, especially since the accountant goes
over them.”

A prude as well thought the earl
agitatedly.

“It is a common enough name, I assure you,
miss.”

“Yes, well, that may be so, but I don’t
have people with such names in my employ.”

The earl remained silent, cursing his beard
and his filthy clothes. Getting people to do what he wanted had always been
easy for him. He simply charmed them with his looks. Being without his title
was suddenly making him realise how vulnerable he truly was.

He wondered how people managed daily
without any assets. Every day would be a struggle if one always had to depend
on one’s wit rather than one’s looks or name.

“We have been waiting for over two months for
a head gardener. I have been searching high and low. There is such a dearth of
reliable servants these days. I cannot have the gardens neglected much longer.
The under-gardeners are decent lads who know their job, but they have been
constantly bickering with one another. Each one is trying to vie for the
position of the head gardener and wanting to do their own thing. I cannot have
roses growing in the patch of daisies, and I do not have the time to deal with
petty rivalries. I am at my wits end, so to speak, and as I have no choice at
the moment, I will take you on. Mind you, it will be a temporary position until
I find someone to replace you … unless you intend to change your name?” Mrs
Purcell asked hopefully.

“I have borne this name for over sixty years,
madam. Why, my father and his grandfather and his grandfather had all been
named thus. It is the matter of my roots, and each one of us has succeeded in
creating the most magnificent gardens. My ancestor was an under-gardener to the
English King’s head gardener himself. I do not like to boast, but …”.

“Yes, yes, that is enough,” said Mrs
Purcell hurriedly. She realised he was one of those long winded types. The
older a man got the more wordy he seemed to get.

“Is that all, Mrs Purcell? May I start work
in the morning?”

“Yes, you can come to the kitchens at nine,
and you will be shown your accommodations and things.”

The earl waited, knowing she would have to
say it.

“Thank you … err … Mr … err …
Shufflebottom.”

The earl left, still chuckling into his sleeve.

***

It had been over a week, and Emma was
wondering where the earl had got to. He had not even written to her.

She did not like feeling worried, and it
was an odd sensation worrying about someone’s safety other than one’s own
immediate family. She already missed him terribly.

Maybe he had decided to stay in London and
give up the whole foolish charade. Curiously that made her feel disappointed.
In spite of all her arguments, she had looked forward to the grand scheme.

She glanced back at her maid and her cousin
strolling slowly behind her. Emma enjoyed a good brisk walk, while her abigail
was too fat to keep up. Her slim cousin liked to amble leisurely, most of the
time her head was lost in some book or the other that she was reading.

It was difficult to force her cousin
outdoors, and she worried about her coming out next year … her reverie was
interrupted by a hiss.

“Psst”

Emma started. She peered at the apple
trees. The sound had been loud, but she could not see anyone close by.

“This way”

Emma turned to her right and made her way
towards the bit where the trees grew closer together. As soon as she was hidden
from the main path, she felt a hand clasp around her mouth.

“Hush, don’t scream. It is me, Richard.”

Emma nodded, her eyes wide. The moment he took
his hands off her, she dissolved into giggles.

The earl, who had once been the epitome of
high fashion, bordering on being a fop, was now clad in a set of dirty shirt
and trousers. He wore a long, full beard with a moustache to rival, and his
hair was powdered white. To complete the look he had blackened a few of his
teeth and reeked of some cheap tobacco.

“I don’t think I want to kiss you, My
Lord.”

The earl smiled ruefully, “I did not think
so. Now, listen quickly before your maid catches up with you. I have procured
the post of the head gardener, and I am now living in the servants’ quarters. I
need to see you again. We have to find a way of meeting occasionally without
anyone being around. I cannot come to you or send a message, so you will have to
plan the means.”

“Well done, Richard. Do be careful and
don’t be found out. I will try and meet you in the gardens tomorrow morning. My
maid likes to sleep in, so I often slip out without waking her. I usually never
do that in the duke’s household, but since you have taken such a risk then I
can too.” She paused, and then asked cheekily, “Should I count today as the
start of the wager?”

“Well … I began work this morning … so yes,
you may mark your calendar. Shall I see you at six? Or is that too early? Most
of the household would be indoors at that time.”

“Six is fine. If I need to send a message,
who do I ask for?”

“Shufflebottom”

The earl left his fiancée in peals of
laughter as he hobbled his way back to the gardens.

“Emma?” Lady Catherine Arden, the duke’s
only child, called out.

Emma stifled her giggles and turned to face
her cousin.

“What are you laughing about?”

“I saw an uncommonly large squirrel being
outwitted by a clever, scrawny one. It was quite entertaining.”

Catherine eyed her cousin sceptically.
Sometimes Emma had an imagination that rivalled her books.

“We must turn back. It is almost time for
tea, and you know how my father despises tardiness.”

Emma’s smile was replaced by a scowl. She
had forgotten how strict her uncle was. Her pleasure in meeting her cousin had
pushed all the negative aspects of staying at the Arden estates to the back of
her mind.

“How do you live with him every single day?
So many rules, and that boring chaperone!”

“It’s not so bad. I guess I have not known
any different, so it is easier for me than it is for you. Aunty takes some
getting used to, though. I would have asked my father for another duenna, but
she is, after all, his sister. I couldn’t hurt her feelings.”

“You are far too soft hearted. Lady Babbage
is the worst of her kind. She would, if she could, create a shrine for her
needles and pray before it. All she ever does is sew and expects us to do the
same. She refuses to venture out, and that is simply not fair to you. How are
you meant to socialise if she keeps you cooped up indoors? It’s unfortunate
enough that the duke would not let you come out until you are twenty. Twenty is
too late. I think … I think he is afraid you will marry and leave him alone.
His love for you is suffocating.”

Catherine turned and started walking back.
She slipped an arm through Emma’s to show she was not angry.

“I don’t think I will have trouble finding
a man when I do come out,” she said smiling.

“The duke’s daughter and beautiful,” said Emma,
“I, for one, am glad you stayed hidden away in the country. One look at you and
the earl would have never looked at me twice.”

“I think my finding a man will depend more
on my status rather than my looks. It will be an arranged marriage, and I don’t
think father will have it any other way.”

“You underestimate yourself. You always
have. You will be the diamond of the first water, mark my words. I, for one,
wish I had your golden hair and bright blue eyes.”

“While I wish I had your dark curls and
witchy green eyes,” replied Catherine grinning.

The mansion loomed up ahead. It was a dark,
forbidding structure that rambled and stretched as far as the eye could see.
The deep grey stone walls did not look so ominous in the daylight, but Emma was
aware that within a few hours, when the sun started sinking, it would be
swathed in shadows.

At night the long carpeted hallways would
fail to muffle the creaks of aged floor boards, and certain doors would grate
as they were opened.

As soon as October set in, the house would
truly shudder and creak. The wind wailing and banging on the windows would find
an open crack and whistle through
the house like
a banshee.

Emma silently thanked the bright sun for
diminishing her childish fears.

They made their way inside and had just
enough time to change out of their walking clothes before the bell was rung.

Emma entered the family room and found
everyone seated in their usual places.

Lady Babbage sat in the far corner almost
hidden by the curtains. She seemed to fade into the background, and one often
forgot when she was in the room. She never said anything witty, and her chatter
was so monotonous that people in general avoided saying more than two words to
her.

She sat knitting something blue, wearing a
brown dress that blended into the deep gold brocade curtains behind her. Her
beady eyes blinked as she peered at Emma. Her round face broke into a smile,
and she nodded enthusiastically.

Emma returned the smile and quickly turned
away. She made her way towards the duchess and Catherine, who sat together on
the long sofa.

The room was richly decorated like the
entire Arden manor. Someone not used to luxury would find the room
intimidating. Emma had spent a lot of time growing up on the estate, so for her
it was just the family room. The expensive fabrics and art works were never
given a second thought.

“My dear, I must tell you what my father
told me last night,” said the duchess as soon as Emma seated herself.

Emma exchanged a look with Catherine, and then
turned a mildly curious face towards the Lady.

‘‘ he said we were all in danger, my dear.
Yes, grave danger. He warned me to tell you especially. He thinks your plans
are foolish and will lead to great peril.”

Emma stared at her uneasily. The duke had
married the duchess ten years ago. She was twenty years his junior.

Catherine had just turned five when his
first wife died in an accident. She had fallen from her horse and broken her
neck. It could be why the duke was so protective of his daughter, barely
allowing her out of his sight. It was a good thing Catherine enjoyed reading
more than conversing with people.

The new duchess still retained her youthful
beauty. Her hair was jet black and her eyes jade green, tilting up at the
corners. Her figure was tall and seductive, and it was no surprise the duke had
married her.

However, after a year of marriage, everyone
in the household realised something was not quite right about the new duchess.
To put it plainly, her upper story was missing crucial bits. She was absent
minded, and when she spoke she said the strangest things.

For instance, her receiving a warning from
her father was decidedly odd. Emma shivered as she stared into her deep green
eyes.

The thing was that the duchess’s father had
been dead for years.

Yet her talk of plans being foiled made
Emma nervous. She was normally not superstitious, and her aunt had often spoken
of omens and signs that she ignored. This time she felt agitated. The words had
been too close to home for comfort.

The duke entered the room, giving them the
needed diversion.

Emma had been at a loss as to how to reply
to her aunt. She gratefully turned in her seat as he came up to them.

He dropped a kiss on all the heads present.

The duke, in spite of being in his late
sixties, was a tall, virile looking man. His back was perpetually straight, and
he held his head with an arrogant tilt. His salt and pepper hair added to his
distinguished appearance that cowed many lily livered men.