The Duke's Dilemma Read online

  With her companion’s assistance she was soon dressed in yesterday’s costume which had been freshly sponged and pressed by an obliging chambermaid. She sat down in front of the mirror and impatiently gathered her hair up into its usual chignon and pinned it securely to her head.

  ‘My dear, despite your lack of sleep you look pretty as a picture. I’ve always said that autumn colours suit your golden hair. It’s a pity you have to hide your outfit under that ugly cloak.’

  Hester was now intrigued. Why was Birdie taking such an the interest in her appearance? ‘Birdie, tell me why I have to look my best this morning? Who am I to impress?’

  She watched as Miss Bird walked her measured way across the l rag rug to stand gazing pensively at the fire. She knew not to interrupt whilst her erstwhile governess and now dearest friend was considering her next utterance. While Hester waited she rose from her seat in front of the mirror and walked to the window to peep from between the heavy curtains to see it was, as expected, still dark.

  Her friend turned, her face serious. ‘After you retired to your room I decided to go downstairs and sit in the snug. A woman of my sort is often overlooked and indeed such was the case last night.’ She indicated Hester should be seated in the small armchair beside the fire.

  ‘The place was in fine uproar. Everyone was talking about it. It seems the occupant of the coach in front of us yesterday was a Lord Colebrook, the Duke of Waverly. It was his dust we were following for two hours. It seems he was not best pleased to find we had bespoken the only decent chambers.’

  Hester couldn’t help smiling; she had no love for aristocrats of any description; if she was honest her sympathies were like her aunt’s, more with the sans culottes, the revolutionaries in France. Of course beheading all the aristocrats had not been a pretty solution but she believed the poor deserved better from their masters. She contained her curiosity and waited to hear the remainder of Birdie’s story.

  ‘Mr Jarvis was ordered to turn us out and give us the inferior rooms but, bless him, he refused. He insisted that gentry or not, ladies came first in his opinion. The general consensus was that his grace was not pleased. However, by the time I arrived the altercation was over and the gentleman in question was sitting over a large jug of claret nursing his woes.’

  Hester couldn’t restrain herself. ‘He sounds typical of his class. I’m glad he had to spend the night in meagre accommodations. Now tell me immediately, what manner of man is he? Is his appearance as repellent as his nature?’

  ‘Well, he’s an extremely tall man, wide shouldered and fair haired. I wouldn’t call him handsome, but he has a striking appearance. Actually he has the demeanour of a soldier, a man more used to commanding troops than arguing with a landlord in a country hostelry.’

  ‘Because he shouted? In my limited experience the rich and influential are prone to do so when thwarted. Do you know exactly what their rooms were like?’

  ‘I’m coming to that, my dear. After it became apparent the landlord wasn’t going to budge and we were to remain, the gentleman and his companion, a more common looking individual, presumably his valet, took themselves off to discuss matters. Which is why they were in the snug in the first place.’

  ‘I wonder why someone so top lofty as the Duke of Waverly was also visiting Neddingfield Hall? I don’t suppose you overheard them discussing why the gates were barred?’

  Miss Bird shook her head. ‘I did not, my dear. However, taproom gossip according to

  Tom, is that your aunt and her staff are definitely in residence. They have to pass through the town in order to leave.’

  ‘How odd! But you know my aunt, she’s a law unto herself. I think she’s about to embark on one of her extraordinary adventures and wishes to inform me of it.’

  If this was the case it didn’t explain why a member of the nobility should also be visiting. It wasn’t a coincidence; Aunt Agatha must have had a reason for asking them both to come at the same time. A thought popped unbidden into her head. She almost choked, spraying her chocolate in a most unladylike manner across the boards. Coughing and spluttering she leapt to her feet, incapable of explaining to her companion what had discommoded her.

  When she recovered her composure she was able to say in an almost natural tone what she suspected. ‘I think I know why Waverly is here. Aunt Agatha has decided it’s time I married and has invited him along to make me an offer. Perhaps she thinks I will renege on the promise to attend the season this year.’

  She waited for an explosion of laughter, for Birdie’s vehement denial of her outrageous statement but none was forthcoming. Instead her friend’s expression changed from one of alarm to amusement.

  ‘Of course! How silly of me not have thought of that. Last time we visited, dear Miss Culley and I had a comfortable coze whilst you were gallivanting around the countryside on your horse; she confided to me that she had exactly the man for you and would arrange for you to meet. She decided that as you’re approaching two and twenty it was high time you gave up your single state.’

  ‘Birdie! How could you? A lady is supposed to marry to better herself or her family but I’ve no need to do that; I’ve told you countless times matrimony is not for me. My two dearest friends both believed themselves to be in love and embarked on the married state. Look at them now! Poor Charlotte is at daggers drawn with Sir Charles and from what I gather from her last letter she has banished him to the dower house.’

  Birdie chuckled. ‘Yes, and Miss Merryweather, now Lady Alsop, is about to produce her fourth bundle of delight in as many years. From one extreme to the other, my dear. I know you’ve no wish to emulate them but your mama begged me to keep you safe and guide you to a happier life than she had.’

  Hester’s eyes filled at the mention of her mother. Her papa had been neither a good husband nor father; he had been a weak man and his answer to every problem was to give in to it, eventually giving in to a bout of pneumonia when, as Mama had remarked on the morning of his funeral. ‘If your father had had any backbone he would have fought the disease and recovered and not left us to manage on our own.’

  ‘Whatever my father’s failings - and they were legion, I will admit this to no one but yourself, Birdie - he didn’t waste my inheritance; neither Mama nor I ever went without. I have sufficient money in the funds to keep me in whatever lifestyle I choose for the remainder of my life. Why should I wish to give that up?’

  ‘Why indeed? There’s no need for you to do anything you don’t want, my dear. Your aunt and I merely discussed the hope that you would meet someone your equal in both intelligence and wit and decide being a spinster was no longer the best option. Surely, my dear, you would like to have children one day?’

  Hester swirled around the floor the heavy woollen skirts of her dress impeding her long strides. She stopped, glaring down at the offending garment and came to a decision.

  ‘This is ridiculous. Help me get into my riding habit, please. I shall take Tom and James and ride to the far side of the park. We can get in to Neddingfield by fording the river. Although it’s cold it hasn’t rained for weeks and it should be quite safe to cross.’

  ‘Is it your intention to discover what Miss Culley has in mind, before you’re obliged to meet the gentleman?’

  Hester nodded as she flung her gown on the bed. ‘You think it’s a good idea don’t you, Birdie? I promise, if he’s suitable, apart from the fact that he sounds arrogant and autocratic, I promise I’ll be civil to him and not turn him down without a fair hearing.’

  Dawn had scarcely broken when Hester cantered away from the inn. She was determined to speak to her aunt before Waverly arrived to look down his nose at her. She glanced across at the black shape loping along beside her; at least Jet was delighted with the excursion as was Thunder. The geldings muscles were bunching and releasing beneath her; in spite of his long journey yesterday he was eager and ready to go.

  She led the way through the town, around several farms and down various back lanes, h
er visual memory excellent. She believed this was the only worthwhile thing she’d inherited from her father. She sat back in the saddle, pulling gently on the reins and her horse responded immediately, dropping back to a trot and then to a long, easy walk. Whilst she waited for her henchmen to catch up she had time to reconsider the sketchy information she’d got about her adversary.

  ‘Tom, if we go down this path we’ll arrive at the river. If I remember rightly all we need to do then is follow the bank for about half a mile until we reach a where we can ford.’

  ‘I’m glad you waited until light to set off, Miss Frobisher. I wouldn’t like to do this ride in the dark.’

  ‘Did you doubt me, Tom?’

  The man shook his head, his face serious. ‘No, miss, but I’m not sure creeping about the countryside is the best approach.’

  ‘Would you have preferred me to have waited patiently at the inn until I discovered why my aunt barred the gates?’ He nodded and Hester’s laugh echoed through the naked trees startling a flock of pigeons into the air. The flapping spooked Thunder and for the next few moments she was fully occupied calming him and the conversation was forgotten.

  She was delighted to discover the crossing place was exactly where she thought it would be. They reined in and she eyed the grey swirling water with disfavour. ‘It looks a lot deeper than I anticipated. It must have been raining a lot for the river to be so full.’

  ‘I’ll try it, miss. You wait on the bank with James.’ She watched Tom urge his mount forward. She held her breath as he urged the nervous animal down. The horses’ hoofs struck the gravel bed of the river.

  The water eddied about the animal’s hocks then rose almost to his stirrup irons. He would be forced to turn back and she would be disappointed if he did. Then to her relief the water became shallower and Tom was safely across. He patted the chestnut’s neck, it was Bess, one of the carriage horses, who went as well under saddle as she did leading a team.

  ‘It’s safe, Miss Frobisher, it looks deeper than it is. If you come next James can ride behind, that way Thunder can’t change his mind.’

  Hester smiled. She knew he was recalling the embarrassing occasion when her horse had been halfway across a narrow bridge and balked, refusing to go further. In the end she had been forced to dismount and back him across the bridge much to the amusement of James and Tom who had crossed ahead of her.

  She dug her heel into his side and slapping him on the neck urged him into the foaming water. Jet chose that precise moment to erupt from the undergrowth and fling himself into the river with a splash. Being suddenly deluged in icy water so upset them both they parted company. She landed on her back in the river, Thunder half-rearing, lunged forward to join Tom on the far bank.

  The water was barely two feet deep but for a terrifying moment it closed over her head and she could see nothing except swirling blackness above. Then an arm reached down and she was hauled to the surface coughing, spluttering and freezing cold.

  James was standing beside her the water not even over his boot tops, trying hard to keep a straight face. She glared at him daring him to comment on her misfortune. Without waiting to have her stupid horse brought back she stomped across the river; after all she was so wet what would a little more water matter?

  With some difficulty she was assisted back into the saddle with her riding habit clinging unpleasantly to her legs. Even with Tom’s cloak around her she shivered miserably. Through chattering teeth she called. ‘Tom, let’s get to the Hall. It’s not far through the park. I keep fresh garments there and I’m sure James can borrow something from one of the grooms.’

  She led the way through the woods, the area becoming more familiar and she saw the park ahead. ‘I’m going to gallop the rest of the way, Tom, it will warm us both up.’ She kicked her mount and he responded; they raced across the frost whitened grass to arrive in spurt of gravel by the tradesman’s entrance.

  Not waiting to be assisted from the saddle she flung herself down and turned to throw the reins to a stable boy. The yard was deserted, the cobbles upswept and the stable block empty. Where was everyone? Puzzled she called out, receiving no response.

  The clatter of her retainers arriving was welcome. James could take care of the horses and Tom could accompany her. This was decidedly odd - first the barred gates and now the abandoned yard. The sooner she got inside and saw for herself what was going on the better.

  ‘Tom, come with me. I must get indoors before I freeze to death.’

  ‘I’m not sure we should go any further, miss. It’s right strange the yard being empty and all. Where’s everyone gone? They can’t have left or someone would have seen them.’ He glanced around nervously. ‘I don’t like this. Something’s not right. Best we go back to the inn.’

  ‘No, Tom, certainly not. I’ve no idea where everyone is but I intend to find out and I won’t do that standing around here in sodden clothes.’

  She set off at a run with her skirts flapping uncomfortably around her water filled boots. The flagged path led from the stable block, past the outbuildings used as laundry and dairy, along the barn and up to the rear of the enormous building. She knew at once that something was amiss. The shutters were closed on the upstairs windows and no smoke was belching from the chimneys. The place was as uninhabited as the stables.

  ‘My aunt’s obviously away from home. However, I must gain entrance. I know where the key to the scullery door is hidden. God willing it will still be there and we can get in. I can find clothes to change into and you can kindle the kitchen range and boil a kettle.’

  Her priority was to get warm – she would worry about the mysterious disappearance of her aunt and her staff when that was accomplished.

  Chapter Three

  The key was hanging in the laundry outbuilding where Hester had sent Tom to look and she stamped her feet as he unlocked it. Shivering she stumbled inside the house glad to get out of bitter November wind.

  ‘Good heavens! It’s almost as cold inside as out. Tom, go to the kitchens and light the range. I’ll use the back stairs to my apartment and hope by the time I return there will be a hot drink awaiting me.’

  She headed for the servant’s staircase clutching her heavy skirts in one hand and a hastily illuminated candlestick in the other. The winding steps led directly to the first floor upon which the main bedrooms were all located.

  Knowing her way about the house made it easier for her to arrive at the correct door without getting lost in the rabbit warren of passages. She felt sorry for any staff that had to negotiate them carrying trays and brimming chamber pots.

  She emerged, a little warmer from her exertions in the wide carpeted corridor that ran the length of the building. Crossing quickly to the door of her chambers she entered eager to find dry clothes. How strange to enter the room with the shutters closed; the shrouded furniture made the familiar sitting room look strange. Good gracious! The holland covers were on! This meant her aunt had definitely not been expecting her. Whatever was going on? Why had she been sent the letter?

  Deciding it would be better to leave this question unanswered until she was dry she hurried into her dressing room. Mercifully this was slightly warmer, it only had one outside wall and a small window. Stripping off her clothes she stood naked on a square of linen taken from the shelf and rubbed herself dry. Then she wound her dripping hair in another towel and twisted it on top of her head in a makeshift turban.

  Stretching out she removed clean undergarments from a pile glad she had had the foresight to keep several changes of raiment here. They might be out dated but they were warm and serviceable; unless she needed new clothes she was content to wear what she already owned. Following the latest fashions was not for her.

  She’d recently replenished her wardrobe ready for the coming season having promised both Aunt Agatha and Birdie she would, just this once, parade around with the ton in the remote possibility she might meet someone with whom she could contemplate spending the rest of her life.


  Relieved her teeth had stopped clattering and her hands were no longer blue, in chemise and petticoats she stepped smartly across to the closet and opened the doors. She chose a warm woollen gown, high-necked and long-sleeved from the shelf. Its saving grace was the colour - a rich russet which complemented her curls. Snatching up a warm cashmere shawl from a shelf she spread it around her shoulders and immediately felt better. All she had to do now was find stockings and slippers and she would be ready to go and investigate.

  She decided to retrace her steps as the distance was shorter than going down the main staircase and across the enormous parquet entrance hall. She picked up the candle and left through the door in her dressing room. She paused momentarily at the bottom to release her skirts before pushing open the door. She froze. There were strangers outside. Her hand remained in midair, inches away from the door. She held her breath, praying she wouldn’t be discovered.

  *

  Ralph stiffened, his eyes narrowed, aware of something a civilian would not have detected. His years serving as an officer in Wellington’s army had honed his senses to a fine degree. His quick reflexes and keen hearing had saved himself and his men from certain death on several occasions in the past. He gestured to Robin, his ex-sergeant major, to continue talking as though nothing untoward was happening. The man took his cue as he always did.

  ‘Well, the thing is, your grace, I can’t think where Miss Culley can be. She certainly isn’t here and neither are any of her staff.’

  By this time Ralph was standing beside the servants’ stairs. He could see the door was open a fraction. Someone was lurking behind it and that someone was about to receive an unpleasant surprise.

  His arms shot out, one hand on the door and flinging it wide whilst the other reached in and grabbed the intruder by the throat, throwing him across the passageway where he crashed unconscious to the floor.

  He realized as soon as he’d released his grip that he’d made a dreadful mistake. The intruder wasn’t a man but a lovely young woman with wavy golden hair and she lay spread-eagled on the floor, possibly fatally injured by his foolhardy actions.