The Unusual Story of the Silent Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Linfield, Emma

  “That was the rebellion, Grandmother,” Neil said calmly. “I am going to Portugal, not America.”

  “Oh, they are the same!” Phyllis whined. “It is all the same. No matter where you go, somebody will be shooting at you!” as Phyllis’ voice increased in volume, Emily came hurrying in with the hairbrush. She sat down at an angle behind Phyllis and began to stroke her shoulders. Then, with the rhythmic brush strokes, Phyllis subsided from her fit, sinking into her chair.

  “At least we have come to see him off, Arthur, it was the proper thing to do,” Phyllis concluded, and then returned to her egg.

  “Of course,” Neil answered, sipping his coffee neatly so as not to spill any on his uniform. He and Emily met eyes over the rim of the cup, and he saw her gaze over him in a sweeping way, as if she were drinking in the uniform, or at least it could be seen that way, Neil thought. With this bold thought, a wave of embarrassment struck him in turn. He began to blush and choked on a sip of coffee, nearly foiling his cautious approach to preserving the integrity of his uniform.

  He rose fast, excusing himself while clearing his throat, glancing back to Emily, and saw her smiling brightly at what must have been his flustering. There was happiness in that smile, an extended comfort that only further embarrassed Neil, and he ran off like a young boy avoiding his lessons.

  After all were ready for the day’s outing, the family, as well as Thomas, climbed into a single carriage on the back of which sat Ruth and Emily. It was best, Neil had decided on his own, that both Phyllis’ caretakers went along, just to be sure everything ran smoothly.

  The ride into town was short, but the road deplorable. The seaside town of Hunstanton was a bit remote compared to the rest of England, nestled on the outcropping of land that offered such views as the one Neil reflected on that morning.

  They rode into the center of the town, right off of the pier, and Thomas descended from the coach to make arrangements with an adjacent common house.

  “Where are we?” Phyllis asked, waking from her short nap.

  “The port, Mother,” Neil said pretending to be his father.

  “Is Neil home from France?”

  Neil lit up at this advancement. It would be far easier to stage a coming home than a shipping off.

  “Yes,” Neil smiled. “He is indeed,” and he hopped out of the carriage, instructing his daughter and grandmother to stay put.

  Neil caught Thomas on his way out of the common house.

  “Mostly poor fishermen, Your Grace,” Thomas said. “But they will let us the upstairs dining room for the day.”

  “Good, very well,” Neil said. “A good enough place as any. Listen, Thomas, she believes I am now coming home from France.”

  “Not leaving for Portugal?”

  “No, but it is far easier now. You all stand with her by the pier, and I shall step off some fisherman’s boat, and all will be well.”

  “Perhaps it might, Your Grace,” Thomas answered. “It is a good strategy. Where shall we stand?”

  “There.” Neil pointed to a spot. “And I shall go and hide myself on that man’s boat.”

  “Shall we do it now, Your Grace?”

  “Why not? We have come here for this reason. Let us be on with it, and perhaps she shall spend the rest of the day happily resting.”

  “Very good, Your Grace,” Thomas said excitedly. “We shall set it into place.”

  “You there, hold a moment,” Neil called, hurrying over to the nearby docked fishing vessel.

  “Sir?” the fisherman asked quizzically of the elegantly dressed Major stepping quickly to the gangplank.

  “May I come aboard, sir?” Neil asked. “I need your ship, no, not your whole ship you see,” Neil shook his head at himself. “Just a moment on board, it’s my grandmother, you see.” I sound like a bumbling fool, though it is rather difficult to explain.

  “Aye, sir,” the fisherman said with a snap of his head. “Not my business questioning no Major, sir, ‘specially not a hero neither.”

  “Hero?” Neil paused, halfway up the gangway.

  “I remember you, Major Arnold sir,” the fisherman said. “You got us through them mountains, the frogs after us and all, got us through where others couldn’t.”

  “My Lord,” Neil gasped, stepping all the way onto the ship with a thud. “Sergeant Ellis? Ninety-fifth rifles?”

  “Aye, sir!” the old rifleman snapped into a salute, clicking together his bare feet.

  “At ease, please man,” Neil said, baffled by this coincidence. “What are you doing here?”

  “This is my ship, sir,” he said. “Bought with the loot we took at Talavera, sort of my retirement, if you will.”

  “You kept it safe all the way through France?” Neil asked, astounded.

  “Sowed the emeralds right into my powder bag, sir,” Ellis winked.

  “Clever,” Neil said, pacing up the gunnel, taking in a survey of the ship. “Fishing treating you well enough? More money to be made on whales, is there not?”

  “Aye, whales are something of their own design though, aren’t they? Fishing does me well enough, sir, don’t much mind it. Beg pardon sir, were you mentioning your grandmother?”

  “Yes, of course,” Neil said, hunching down abruptly for fear that Phyllis might have caught a glimpse of him until he remembered that she had such a deteriorating state of vision.

  Neil explained his situation to the soldier turned sailor, who gladly agreed to help. They hoisted the royal colors high and watched as Phyllis assembled with Ruth, Thomas, Emily, and Kaitlin on the pier. In a grand show, Neil came down off the small fishing vessel, his uniform blazing like the sun against the seaside fog that rolled in relentlessly.

  He was proud to march down the gangway, remembering the pride he had felt during his military years. Neil moved with purpose, beaming out into the gray harbour. All of their eyes were on him now, and he felt truly motivated to impress them. He wanted to impress his poor old grandmother, his daughter, who had never seen him in uniform, and for some strange reason, he wanted to impress Emily. As she passed into his mind, his eyes fell across her, and he saw her smiling brightly at his rehearsed march.

  Phyllis let out a cry of joy, while Ruth and Emily supported her from either side, and Thomas held Kaitlin’s hand.

  “He has returned to us!” Phyllis sobbed. “Praise you, Lord, praise you for delivering him back to us unharmed!”

  Neil ambled off the ship and embraced his frail grandmother, exchanging humorous glances with Emily over Phyllis’ shoulder.

  “Never has there been a more blessed day,” Phyllis said. “I find myself so full of joy that I cannot rest. We must go back to London, for we all have some much-earned shopping and drinking to do!”

  “We are not near London, Grandmother,” Neil said.

  “Where else would we be?” she asked, confusedly. “The ships come across the channel.”

  “I brought mine around,” he said. “To be closer to home.”

  “Humph,” Phyllis protested and glanced around. “Well, what then?”

  “We have the second floor of the public house, Your Grace,” Thomas chimed in. “We shall show you all there in the carriage.”

  “Drinks! We must celebrate!” Phyllis was ecstatic.

  They returned to the common house, and tactfully whisked Phyllis up the stairs to avoid her contact with the common folk below, as they would only thoroughly confuse her. Finally, when the family had settled around a circular table overlooking the pier, the wine was served with a light luncheon for the ladies and roasted duck for Neil. When Thomas brought the plates from the kitchen below, Phyllis looked shocked and demanded to know where the food for her abigails who, according to today’s Phyllis, always took meals with her, and in good company.

  So, Thomas had a plate made up for Emily and Ruth, and they took it at a smaller table removed to the corner.

  After the luncheon, they lounged comfortably in the open space, enjoying still the view of the pier an
d sipping fine wine for several hours. Kaitlin soon got bored and fell asleep on a bench, with Ruth covering her with blankets. Emily sat, brushing Phyllis’ hair while the old lady drank and pressed her grandson to regale her with stories of Portugal, Spain, and France.

  Neil spoke on, finding many of his memories refreshed by his encounter with Ellis, telling tales of battles and skirmishes. Though Phyllis was the one pressing him, Neil found himself speaking to Emily, who sat just behind Phyllis.

  They shared a prolonged stare as Neil carried on, and Neil felt something truly powerful welling up inside of him like he had the night they had shared on the porch. This time it was more processed, clearly realized. She was utterly beautiful, possessing the gentle grace of a Roman statue.

  “I must have it,” Phyllis interrupted his emotional thought, and his eyes jumped from Emily to his Grandmother. “That painting behind you, I simply must have it.”

  Neil turned his head around and saw the enormous oil painting she was referring to. It depicted a large ship unloading on a pier and people bustling about beneath the lines.

  “It will always remind me of the day you returned! I must have it, Neil, would you see to it?”

  “Of course, Grandmother,” Neil stood, catching a grin from Emily. “Thomas, go down and offer the man a fair price for it.”

  “What is a fair price for Your Grace?” Thomas asked, likely nervous to go off and spend the Duke’s money in such a manner.

  “Whatever they want for it, I care not,” Neil waved his hand. He was, after all, one of the wealthiest men in the country.

  “As you wish, Your Grace,” Thomas hurried down the stairs.

  “It is a rather large picture,” Neil remarked, looking the painting up and down.

  “It is glorious,” Phyllis said and sipped down the rest of her wine with a little giggle. “And if you do not like it then I shall hang it in my bedroom where you shall never have to see it.”

  “Fair enough,” Neil turned back, smiling, and held his hands behind his back.

  Thomas came back in and announced that the painting was now in their possession and requested Ruth help him wrap it in paper.

  Once wrapped, they were faced with the challenge of returning it to the cottage.

  “We shall have to take two trips, Your Grace,” Thomas said.

  “So, it would seem,” Neil replied, helping Thomas secure the picture on the rear bench of the post-chaise with more wrapping and cord.

  “You go on with Kaitlin and my Grandmother, so that dinner may be set into motion,” Neil said.

  “What of Your Grace?”

  “I can spend an hour and some in a common house, fear not,” Neil said. “The second floor is still ours for the evening.”

  “Very well, Your Grace,” Thomas said. “What of Her Grace’s companions? Emily and Ruth? Is it best to separate Her Grace from them?”

  “You are right, of course,” Neil said. “Take Ruth, four should fit fine. I will wait here with Emily until the post-boys return for us. One of them should be enough to handle her for the evening, and perhaps it is best that she should be one who can speak.”

  “As you wish, Your Grace.”

  * * *

  Mary-Anne waited in the upstairs dining room of the common house for someone to tell her what to do. The rest of the family started to climb aboard, but there had been some confusion with the painting, and she had been sent back up to keep Kaitlin company. Then Thomas had come and fetched the girl and left Mary-Anne sitting there, somewhat confused.

  It had been some time since she had attended a public house such as this one. She had once frequented a similar establishment nearby to the shop where she had worked, but that all that seemed so very distant now.

  In truth, it had not been that long — only a matter of weeks — yet it seemed her life was changed forever. She had become the silent caretaker of an old lady, the grandson of whom she found really quite dashing and sophisticated.

  The Duke entered at that moment, bringing with him the strong smell of the cool, sea air. She was startled to find herself alone with him.

  “Well, we will have to wait for the return trip,” he said, heading quickly to the large table by the window. “My grandmother’s painting has taken our seats,” the Duke smiled nervously, clearly caught off guard as much as she by the situation, although she knew it had to be of his engineering.

  “I feel like a fool,” the Duke said, looking around the nearly empty room. “I sent Ruth back with Thomas, because she can speak, you see, and I thought that an advantage concerning my grandmother. Now I see that we are now in each other’s company, unable to have any conversation,” the Duke raised his hands in the air beside his head and gently brought them down, bouncing his palms on the table top.

  He was clearly as nervous as she was — possibly more. Mary-Anne could see it by his small facial twitches and fleeting eyes.

  “Well, I suppose I will read the periodicals,” the Duke said after a moment of tense silence and picked up some of the papers laying scattered on the table before him.

  Mary-Anne watched him pick up the paper, flip through several pages with little interest, and then dismissively cast it aside after a few minutes.

  “Dreadfully dull,” he muttered, and stood to look out the window, striking a pose that would inspire a painter, and checked his timepiece to find only just seven minutes had elapsed since the first coach rattled away.

  “So then, in all honesty, did you enjoy my performance?” the Duke was clearly trying to make the room less tense.

  Mary-Anne nodded with a smile, clapping a few times like an overjoyed concert goer.

  “I think it went off rather well,” the Duke smiled, and she could see him starting to feel more comfortable. “You know, there was a man on that ship, I knew him.”

  Mary-Anne cocked her head curiously and crossed to the table where he sat. She pulled out the chair across from him and sat with her hands folded across the wood grain.

  “I knew him from Wellington’s army,” the Duke was fidgeting with one of his cufflinks. Likely out of nervousness, Mary-Anne thought. For I am horribly anxious. “He called me a hero. Not sure if I deserve that one, but it felt good to hear. So damn good to be saluted, valued, perhaps. It has been so awfully long since I was anything at all. For the past five years, I have existed only for my daughter and grandmother. Love them as I do, I see now, they are not enough.”

  The Duke stopped talking suddenly, looking up at Mary-Anne with intensity. “I cannot believe what I have said to you,” he blinked rapidly. “I sit here with you and I feel content to share the deepest recesses of my soul as if you were a dove perched on my windowsill. It feels so strange to talk like this, and yet, not strange at all.”

  Mary-Anne reached across the table and took one of his hands in hers, easing his fiddling and stilling his wrist. Keep talking if you wish, she nodded.

  “I feel as if I have known you all my life, although I know you not at all,” the Duke said softly. “Never before have I felt this way,” he continued. “Not even -” and he cut himself short, gagging on the words he was trying to get out.

  Mary-Anne squeezed his hand for confidence.

  “Not even with my wife did I feel such comfort. I loved her, at least I thought I did, in the way that was proper. We had a child and cared for each other in the way that was expected. But it was arranged, it was strange in the beginning,” he blinked hard at their hands together, and Mary-Anne knew not whether she should withdraw or grasp him tighter.

  “But here and now, there is no strangeness,” Neil finished, grasping up her other hand in his. “I feel as if I have known you for years.”

  Mary-Anne did not know how to respond. It was a dramatic confession, and it began to bounce around inside her brain in chaotic bursts. She began to blush intensely, as she was apt to do, and Neil attempted to console her.

  “No, please, do not be embarrassed. It was not my intention,” Neil urged. “I only meant to, we
ll, I don’t know what I meant,” he became dejected, pulling away. “I only...” Neil trailed off, nervously glancing between Mary-Anne and the window.

  I am not embarrassed, Mary-Anne thought. I am filled with joy. She leaned forward on the table, her head in her arms, trying to hide her tears of joy, excitement, and nerves. The Duke leaned in, placing his hand tentatively on her shoulder blades. The touch was electric, sending shivers down Mary-Anne’s spine. With that touch, she turned to look at the Duke and saw deep compassion in his eyes.

  Mary-Anne had made up her mind. She was going to make her feelings clear. If he did not return them, then fine, she would leave. She had run away before. She was near penniless, but she didn’t need money to start over. She could manage on willpower alone.