Loving Tales of Lords and Ladies

by Abigail Agar

  But within seconds, the apparition faded. Darkness shrouded over him once more. He swallowed, staggering back towards his desk.

  “Duke!” Marina cried, rushing for him. She gripped his hand, his shoulder, drawing him up from the desk.

  He huffed, embarrassment making his words volatile. “No, it’s all right. It’s all right …” he shot out. “Please. I just grew dizzy for a moment. It’s really no issue.”

  “Do you require help to get to your room?” Marina asked.

  “No. Absolutely not,” the Duke nearly spat.

  His head rang with anger. He’d thought, for only a moment, that his sight was returning. How, suddenly, he craved to know just what this woman looked like! How he ached to see her eyes, peering back at him! His nostrils filed with her scent, so fragrant and luxurious and mysterious. His body craved to press against hers. How he’d once placed his lips upon the neck of his wife, Marybeth, and listened to her cry out with pleasure …

  “Please. Take the violin,” the Duke murmured, forcing himself to his feet. “It’s absolutely essential that you take it. I want to thank you for all you’ve done with my children, for all of us.”

  Marina took several, tentative steps back. “It’s been my honour,” she began.

  “And I’m so grateful that I will be able to show you London,” the Duke continued, trying to lighten his tone, to make it less menacing. Less dark with meaning. “It will be a remarkable time together. The children will be delighted that you’re there with them, as well.”

  “Thank—thank you …” Marina whispered.

  He heard her grip the violin case, snap it closed, and stagger towards the door. “I’ll keep it ever so safe, Duke,” she murmured. “I know how important this is to you.” She blew out the candle, with a light “whoosh.”

  “And I know how important music is to you,” the Duke returned.

  “Good night,” Marina offered at the doorway before sweeping it closed.

  Just before she snipped the latch into place, the Duke crooned back, “Good night, Ms Blackwater.” But he wasn’t entirely sure she heard him.

  Regardless, he began to pace, snapping his eyelashes together and apart once more, trying and failing to bring the “light” back. Could it be that it had been a false start? Could your eyesight just spring back to life, only to fall away again? He had half a mind to wake the carriage boy so that he could rush across the night, the horseshoes clacking across the gravel and dirt—find the doctor. Demand attention.

  But it all seemed too spastic. Too rushed. He drew his tongue across his teeth, wondering if he could sleep that night. Still, his nostrils were filled with the delicious scent of the Governess. Lavender. Soap. Delirium.

  He ached for something to happen. But he remained in the dark, waiting.

  Chapter 20

  Marina fled from the Duke’s study, feeling sweat bubble up along her neckline and the top of her forehead. She clutched the violin to her chest, feeling that it weighed far more than its few pounds.

  For this—this violin, this several hundred years old violin—was worth far more than her life, than her future children’s lives, than any selection of memories or thoughts she’d ever had before. It was an artifact not just from the Duke’s life, but from full-blooded, glorious musicians of the past. These were men who’d crafted a musical landscape in which she daydreamed, now. And she had to treasure this relic.

  When Marina reached the bedroom, she knew, immediately, that she wouldn’t have the right mindset to lay her head to rest. Not then, and perhaps not the rest of the night. For, beyond this violin, her mind stirred continually with anxious, pulsing thoughts of the Duke. How his presence had begun to drive her mad with something chaotic and strange! When he spoke to her, she hardly found her voice—felt that it was diminished somewhere in the back of her throat, just a string.

  But how she ached to draw the bow over the strings, to play—to feel the depth of time that existed within the vessel of this violin! She spun back from the bedroom, her feet clacking across the floorboards, before scrambling towards the staircase. Up! Up! Up! She would flee as fast as she could from the sleeping children, from the Duke himself, as she didn’t want to disturb anyone.

  Beyond that, she didn’t want to lend anyone her simmering emotions. It felt too personal, allowing anyone to see that far in. Before she drew too far from the light, she made sure to grip a candle, stitched into the wall. With it, she flashed light onto the staircase, across the walls. She could watch her shadow as it moved upward.

  She reached the top of the mansion, where a thin hallway cut off from the staircase, towards a gathering of storage rooms. Moving the candlestick back and forth in front of her, she hunted for the best hiding place. She pressed her hand against one door after another.

  Each storage space seemed too small, too crowded for her purposes—with many of them seemingly stocked with Marybeth’s old things. Her dresses hung in the far corner, shadowed and protected with coverings. In another, antique furniture sat, dusty and waiting for something. Perhaps they would never be used again.

  Finally, she reached the far end of the hall, where a small desk sat, with a large, golden mirror attached to the front. She flashed her sleeve forward, drawing it over the mirror so that the dust scattered across the desk—soft and thick, like cake. She giggled to herself, feeling apprehensive—knowing only that this part of the mansion wasn’t for her, yet it wasn’t for anyone, either.

  It had been quite some time since Marina had seen herself in the mirror. It wasn’t anything she generally sought out, given the fact that her mother, father, and siblings had never generated much cause for preening. “Perhaps our ugliest child. Our least memorable, certainly,” her father had once said, while seated in the next room. She’d been gathering a salad together. The words had slipped through her, air, without matter. Wanting to look like anything else, besides herself, didn’t seem to her any good use of time.

  Not when there was music to play.

  She positioned the violin case on the desk, sliding it open carefully, so that the velvet glittered in the candlelight, highlighting the body of the instrument. Her breath caught in her throat. With tender fingers, she drew lines around the gorgeous, intricate etchings of flowers. Her eyes, allowed to see such artistry! How could she possibly be so lucky?

  But as she drew the violin towards her neck, tilting her head over it—each movement slower, more purposeful than normal—she heard a strange stomping on the staircase down the hall. Her heart thumped wildly. She shot up from her chair, blowing out the candle with a quick “whoosh.”

  And not a moment too soon. Within seconds, she heard the familiar clacking of Sally Hodgins’ shoes across the floorboards. Marina gripped the violin against her chest, grabbing the case and hustling towards the far edge of the room. Each storage room was teensy, lined with false walls (assumedly to keep everything organised, although it was unclear), which allowed Marina to hear absolutely everything.

  Sally wasn’t alone. She marched her stocky body far down the hallway, entering the room directly beside Marina’s. And behind her was the grunting Jeffrey, the Duke’s assistant, huffing half-whispered words to Sally.

  “My dear, my dear…” he muttered. “I would follow you to the ends of the earth. But you really think, all the way up here…”

  “Shh. We mustn’t be caught,” Sally offered back. “You know the Duke has ears everywhere. And what with this Charles debacle down at the shop, I’m sure he thinks something’s up. He’s not a terribly idiotic man, you know. He’s simply blinded by his trust for you.”

  “And for you, my dear,” Jeffrey murmured.

  There was silence and then sounds of smooching, kisses. Marina’s eyes grew near to popping from her skull. She gripped the violin hard against her chest in complete disbelief. What on earth were they talking about—blinded by trust? And beyond that, Jeffrey and Sally Hodgins were in the midst of a romantic affair?

  How had Marina been so bl
ind to such romantic tension between them? She strained to play back every encounter she’d seen, but couldn’t. Instead, she knew she’d been focused wholly on the Duke, those dark eyes, his thick curls … as well as those massive hands, gripping his cane with ferocity …

  Their kisses subsided. Jeffrey sighed once more, a horrific sound that sent chills up and down Marina’s back. Sally grunted as if she wasn’t altogether pleased with the kissing. Marina marvelled that anyone could ever be displeased with a kiss. To her, it was the closest distance between two souls. Although she’d never kissed anyone, to know.

  “But the ledger. He didn’t have anyone else go over it, did he?” Sally demanded. “Regarding the upcoming sale …”

  “No. I only told him what you told me to say,” Jeffrey said. “I told him we’d make over 20,000 quid.”

  “A far cry less than what anyone would think to make for the Queen’s ball …” Sally tittered. “I can’t believe he went along with it.”

  “He’s a bit distracted, you know,” Jeffrey added. “I see the way his face scrunches up when he talks about that governess. It’s like he’s falling in love with her, the idiot.”

  “If this disease doesn’t kill him, then I’m sure falling in love with someone like her will,” Sally cackled. “My Lord, it’s almost too perfect. We couldn’t have planned it out better. And what is the final outcome, for us?”

  “Nearly 80,000 quid, my love..” Jeffrey sighed. “Which is nearly enough for us to leave this place together. For us to get our own plot of land along the sea …”

  “My darling …”

  But as they dove back into one another, Marina’s cheeks grew slack, her lips parted with shock. They were outwardly thieving from the Duke, directly under his nose! She shook violently. And, with a jolt of panic, her arms grew slack. Suddenly, the violin crashed from her arms, smashing against the hard wooden floors below.

  Without pause, one half of it smashed into several pieces, with the strings spewing out like spider webs. The noise was chaotic: exactly what Marina might have expected a violin smashing would sound like. The belly of it echoed until the echo had nowhere else to go but to escape down the hallway of the mansion, blaring out to the room beside her.

  Alerting Sally and Jeffrey of her hiding place.

  “What the …” Jeffrey cried out.

  Sally’s quick steps bumbled her across the little room beside Marina, down the short trek of hallway, before finding her in the doorway of Marina’s hiding space. She held a candle aloft, flashing the light across Marina’s cheeks. Her face was one of absolute horror: her eyes glittering, her lips parted and aghast, and her fat cheeks falling towards her neck.

  “What on earth are you doing here, Marina Blackwater?” she demanded.

  Marina’s entire body trembled. Her hands remained stretched forward as if she could possibly reach the falling violin in time. It was akin to a moment in a dream, when you felt yourself falling, falling, falling, nearly ready to crash into the ground. She expected to wake.

  “I—I um. I …” Marina whispered. Her mouth was suddenly, horribly dry. She felt she hadn’t had a drop of water in years.

  Jeffrey ambled up behind Sally, placing his arms across his chest. He glared at her with unmatched ferocity, his lips buzzing together. “You can’t possibly know what you just heard, my dear. I’m sure you read it all out of context. For honestly, my girl, spying … the lowest possible pastime …”

  Sally allowed the candle to fall slightly, flashing light upon the ground before Marina. The light caught the violin pieces, the sharp edges as they arched towards the ceiling. Marina glanced down at it, fully seeing the carnage. Tears filled her eyes. Beyond the tension in the room—beyond the terror—she felt a seemingly endless wave of regret. For this gorgeous instrument had been a beacon of time and memory. And now, she’d allowed it to shatter on the floor.

  My God, what would the Duke say?

  “What on earth have you done, Marina Blackwater?” Sally Hodgins asked, her evil lips curving into a crooked smile. “What on earth have you done?”

  “Which violin is that?” Jeffrey asked, sounding eager.

  They both leapt forward, so that they stood with their feet on either side of the smashed animal. Jeffrey’s thick toes stretched forward, kicking at a teensy piece. Sally knelt, gliding her fingers over the same floral etching that Marina had been admiring only moments before. Tears glittered down Marina’s face and onto her dress. One arm continued to clutch the case to her chest. How she wished she had taken just a moment, just a single second, to latch the violin back into place… How she wished she could yank back these moments in time…

  She would give anything.

  “My dear. It’s the 300-year-old violin. The Duke’s absolute favourite,” Sally said. Her eyes flashed back to Marina, seemingly inhaling the insecurity of the girl. “I can’t quite believe you have it in your possession. What made him lend you such a beautiful thing?”

  Marina stuttered, hunting for words. But Jeffrey spoke over her, his words cruel. “I told you. The man’s got a heart again. He’s falling for her. Or, he was.”

  “Ha. Was is the key term here, yes, Jeffrey,” Sally said with a sneer. She began to collect the pieces of the violin in her outstretched arms, her face stretching into a massive smile. “I wasn’t even allowed to clean the thing over the years, and now he lets some little farm girl borrow it. Only to have her break it to smithereens. Absolutely priceless, this violin. You know that, don’t you, Marina?” she tittered, with the strings of the violin flashing across her chest as she rose up to full standing. “My goodness. What an exciting night!”

  “You—you can’t get away with this …” Marina finally said, her tongue flailing. “I heard everything. I—I know about your affair. I know about your plans … You’re stealing from him! You—you monsters. He’s blind. And he trusted you …”

  Jeffrey and Sally made heavy eye contact. Jeffrey reached a hand across the small space between them, tucking a wayward white curl behind Sally’s ear. It was a nearly-tender moment, unmatched to the husky voice of Jeffrey. “I can’t imagine he’ll listen to the ravings of the lunatic girl who smashed his prized violin.”

  “The moment he feels this violin …” Sally offered, clucking her tongue. “The moment he realises what’s happened …”

  “He will absolutely lose his mind,” Jeffrey cackled.

  “But—but I’ll tell him what I’ve heard …” Marina cried, her lower lip bubbling. She wished she could shriek at them, grab the violin and rush down the hall to explain. But she’d heard the way the Duke had spoken about the violin. It had been his last link to his father and his grandfather, a morsel of the past during an unsure and eternally dark future.

  And she’d smashed it.

  “You said it yourself, Marina,” Sally Hodgins boomed. “He trusts us. Absolutely more than he should.” In the pause, Sally reached her free arm through the space between, gripping the upper collar of Marina’s dress. She pulled at it, leading Marina towards the door like a dog. Marina didn’t dare utter a response and held in what might have been a screech of fear. She couldn’t fold into these people.

  Jeffrey gazed on with what seemed like intrigue, watching as Marina was tossed around the hallway, back and forth. Her shoulder fell against a wall. She heard something crumple—her bone? But no, she still had working use of her arm, could sling it back and forth while Sally Hodgins tugged her closer to the steps. Sally was speaking wildly to Jeffrey, her voice high-pitched.

  “In just a few hours, she’ll be out of this house, just as I’ve wanted since she marched her smirking self in here.”

  “You were always right about her, Sally,” Jeffrey boomed. “As you always are about the affairs of this house.”

  “And to think, all these years I’ve served the Duke, without question. That is, until I realised just how little I was given, in return for a lifetime of service …”