Juliet's shoulders dropped in resignation while her Aunt rubbed her hands together in satisfaction. “I agree. You are quite mad,” grumbled Juliet as she listened to her friend and aunt bandy about further suggestions and ideas.
Chapter Thirty
We that are true lovers run into strange capers.
William Shakespeare, As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 4
The next evening, after a seemingly brief supper, the few bites which she could choke down tasting like sawdust, Juliet dutifully rescued her “ailing” aunt and attended her to her chamber. Her stomach churned, and she feared she would disgrace herself in front of her aunt and maid. The Countess gave her many words of encouragement, checked her reticule for the necessary sewing items, and bade her niece bonne chance, sending her firmly on her way. Juliet moved quickly and quietly through the halls, as familiar with Edgecliff as her own home. Before anyone might stumble upon her, she turned the knob and slipped into the Duke's room, shutting the door behind her with a gentle snick.
Juliet nervously looked around the room and took a deep breath in an effort to calm her nerves. It was a beautiful chamber, the room spacious and well appointed. A large, four poster bed took up most of the left wall, the canopy and drapings a navy and gold brocade that richly accented the dark mahogany of the wood. A fire was already burning in the grate on the far side of the room, in deference to the cool night, with two chairs separated by a small table flanking the fireplace. Heavy curtains were already closed against the dark across a seemingly large but hidden window. Juliet walked across and drew back a panel to look. The sky outside was too dark to reveal the Duke's view, but she discovered the curtains hid not only a window but also a padded seat at least six feet in length. What a pleasant place to read a book, she thought, then chuckled at her distraction as she turned around to get after her mission. Spying an enormous wardrobe in occupation of the wall opposite the bed, Juliet made for this piece of furniture to begin to work.
She opened her reticule and removed the spools of thread and needles. Opening wide the two large doors she pulled out the first drawer of four that made up the bottom of the clothes press and gave a small gasp at its contents. Despite having two brothers, she could not contain her shock at seeing the Duke's private garments. She efficiently threaded a needle and gritted her teeth before removing his drawers from their compartment. She quickly began to stitch them together, desperately trying to ignore the nature of the clothing and what parts of the Duke's body they usually encased. One leg after the other she sewed until she had a long line of attached garments. She restacked them with efficiency and deposited them back in the wardrobe.
Opening the next drawer she discovered his stockings. Following the same routine, she stacked them carefully onto the carpet and proceeded to stitch them together with precision and dexterity. When she had achieved one long line of connected stockings, she replaced them and moved to the next drawer containing cravats. Juliet removed the first neck cloth and ran her fingers over the soft silk. Realizing she had never touched a man's neckwear before, she was surprised to find it soft and almost delicate yet still sturdy with starch. She paid careful attention to remove them in stacks so she would not have to refold them later, then proceeded to stitch each successive corner to the next. As she neatly replaced them in the drawer she could not stop her hand from touching the cool silk one last time.
Since becoming better acquainted with the Duke this past week, Juliet felt more than just guilt for rifling through his belongings. She felt like she was somehow betraying their new-found friendship, that she was trespassing not just in his private chamber but on his trust. She looked around the room again and sighed. I am putting way too much emphasis on a harmless prank, she thought. She stood and looked over the collection of garments hanging from the top of the clothes press. She ran her fingers down the sleeves of several of his tailcoats and paused to examine the stitching and fine embroidery of his waistcoats. She knew he had shirts and breeches as well but decided she would not potentially ruin any of his outer garments by stitching them in any manner. Juliet smothered a yawn as fatigue from the busy day and loss of nervous adrenaline washed over her, spurring her to remember the task at hand. Enough is enough! she thought as she removed her wandering fingers and shut the wardrobe doors firmly.
Feeling bold, she quietly walked across the Aubusson carpet to the dressing table on the opposite side of the room. She was amazed that a man had as many geegaws and elixirs as any woman she knew. Shaving soap and lotion she recognized, but she picked up the small crystal decanter of amber liquid out of curiosity. Removing the stopper from the top she immediately smelled the scent that was the Duke – a mixture of earth and woods and outdoors that evoked Jonas. She brought the bottle close to her nose and inhaled deeply, making a memory of the scent. It is the Duke in a bottle, she thought with a small laugh. Juliet recapped the delicate carafe and returned it to its rightful place. Turning again to view the room another idea formed. Her eyes skittered across the bed and she laughed fully at her outlandish musing. I am going to sew his bedclothes together.
She walked to a chair near the fire and searched her reticule. After locating more thread she dropped her bag to the floor by the chair and crossed the room to the far side of the large bed. Settling herself on the floor she peeked under the counterpane to assess the number of linens, deciding not to mar the surface of the decorative cover but instead sew the sheet covering the mattress directly to the linen under the coverlet. Juliet yawned again, this time not trying to prevent it, resolving instead to quickly finish this last inspiration of the prank and remove to her own chamber. The subtle warmth of the fire combined with the soft plushness of the carpet to make her feel even sleepier, but she was committed to this final act.
Several minutes later, she was unsure of exactly how many, Juliet became aware of a noise near the bedroom. She paused in effort to detect the exact location when the door near the head of the bed burst open and the Duke's valet, Danvers, entered the room. She immediately ducked below the side of the mattress and endeavored to be as still and quiet as possible. She could hear the valet moving about the room in obvious preparation for the Duke's retirement as a cold feeling of dread rushed over her, chasing away the pleasant warmth she had been working with earlier. Without raising her lowered head Juliet heard Danvers stoke the fire and complete and total fear rushed through her veins: the Duke was coming to his room! She raised her head enough to glance around her immediate location in search of a suitable hiding place but found nothing save the drapes. The window! Juliet peeked over the mattress to determine the location of the now-quiet valet. Finding herself alone in the room again, but hearing his unmistakable noises in the adjacent dressing room, she gathered her needle and extra spool of thread to move to the window hiding place. She rose quickly only to find her clothing rooted to the bed. Frantically pulling at the silk of her skirts she discovered the problem. In her fatigue and haste she had effectively sewn herself to the Duke's mattress cover. As she had moved down the length of the bed each stitch had also taken up a measure of her garments, both layers of her skirt and petticoat, until she was quite thoroughly attached.
Juliet's stomach plummeted at the same time a bubble of hysteria tried to force its way up her throat. She tugged desperately at the stitches but heard the unmistakable rumbling of the Duke's voice in the next room. Smothering a groan yet wanting to scream, Juliet moved as much of herself as possible underneath the bed, gently pulling the coverlet to hang lower on her side in effort to give her more disguise as Jonas and his valet entered the room. Thank heavens Danvers had already turned back the bed before she entered for she had no idea how she could have moved her body in tandem as the covers were lowered with any success. Certain the men could hear the pounding of her heart and the labor of her rapid breathing, she closed her eyes and silently willed herself to calm down.
When the roaring of the blood in her ears settled, Juliet began to make out snippets of the conversati
on between Jonas and his trusted helper. They discussed the high points of the day and evening with Juliet hearing her name mentioned several times, although the context was beyond her understanding. She began to take stock of her situation, reasoning she could attempt another escape once the Duke fell asleep. She offered up a quick prayer that he would not sit in front of the fire, as the tell-tale lump of silk and coverlet on the far side of the bed would be hard to miss. She also prayed he would sleep quickly and soundly, allowing her to take her scissors to the stitches then flee his room.
Her scissors! Blast and damn but her scissors were in her reticule, which she could clearly see sitting lopsided on the floor by the chair. She swore fluently and severely with some length in her mind as she scrambled to make another escape plan. Her eyes darted out the three sides she could see from under the bed when suddenly two large, bare feet came into view. Some clothing briefly hit the floor before disappearing again, followed by the ropes above Juliet's head groaning as they accepted and adjusted to the weight of the Duke's obvious entrance into his bed.
Juliet swallowed and wordlessly bemoaned her suddenly dry throat. She saw the room darken as she heard candles being extinguished and good nights exchanged. She was trapped. Wide awake, all previous weariness and complacency fled in the face of utter ruin, Juliet felt the flutterings of what she assumed was panic. Cursing herself for not leaving when she could have rather than attempting one last folly, she rested her head on the carpet under the bed. Nothing like being hoist with one's own petard, she thought waspishly. Juliet heard the muted chimes of the clock from the family chamber hall mark the time as midnight. She mentally castigated herself again for her foolishness, resigning herself for a long night of the same.
Chapter Thirty-One
Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb like the sun; it shines everywhere.
William Shakespeare, Twelfth Night, Act 3, Scene 1
Jonas searched the house thoroughly before giving up and making for his chambers. He entered the sitting room then walked into his dressing room to greet his valet. Ever the superior servant, Danvers handed him a glass of port and immediately began to prepare his master for bed. Jonas caught his reflection in the pier glass and chuckled again at the sight of his friends with their colorful lips and teeth. He set his drink aside with a sudden bout of healthy paranoia and allowed his valet's help rather than shooing him away. He wondered if the Countess was truly ill, assuming as he was that Juliet was still in her chamber. He vaguely responded to the polite questions of his valet and was quickly attired in his dressing gown. Jonas wandered into his bedroom, intending to dismiss Danvers and brood by the fire when he saw a bag on the floor by the nearest chair. Recognition flitted across his face as his quick mind made the calculation that the Countess was indeed well, the next folly had finally commenced, and Juliet had been in his room. His mind flew through the possibilities of what his next course of action should be.
“And did all the guests enjoy themselves this evening, Your Grace?” asked Danvers as he placed a pitcher of water and glass on the table next to the Duke's bed.
“I believe so,” Jonas answered absently as his eyes scanned the room for signs of the prank. He walked to the end of the bed, considering whether to check the now-curtained window seat for wicked doings, when he noticed the bunched coverlet on the right side of the bed. Stepping quietly he moved just far enough to look over the far side to see the unmistakable skirts of the fair Juliet peeking out from under the bed. He smiled and returned to his valet. “Danvers, I believe I will retire. It has been a long day after all. Will you see to the candles?” Jonas asked as he moved to the foot of his bed.
Danvers nodded, snuffing out the five flames in the candelabra then exiting through the dressing room. Jonas surveyed his room almost gleefully, wondering what this dodge would entail and whether Juliet had the time to execute it before his entrance. Determining to wait her out, he made a production of dropping his dressing gown then pouncing heavily on the bed as he climbed up to sit back against the pillows. Cradling his head in his raised arms, Jonas leaned back and settled in, sure his wait would be brief. He heard the clock outside his chambers chime twelve times and smiled again, plotting his own schemes.
Jonas turned over and blinked, realizing he had fallen asleep. He looked toward the curtains and saw the light of day beginning to glow through the break between the panels. He rubbed his stubbled jaw with his hand, stunned that he had failed to remain awake and missed his chance to catch Juliet. He slid to the far side of his bed and peered over the side only to be stunned again as he saw two stocking-clad feet and shapely ankles lay against the gold of his plush carpet. He had two questions: why had Juliet not fled while he slept and how could he make her realize her coming ruin was the best thing that had ever happened to her. And him.
Jonas smiled broadly as his mind raced over the possibilities now present. Juliet had spent the entire night in his room; he must convince her that compromise was a surety and matrimony was the solution. He felt a brief flash of surprise that the thought of marrying Juliet filled him with nothing save contentment. He had found her company to be immensely superior to other ladies as they had much in common, both in interests and beliefs. She had expressed her disinclination toward marriage, but he knew her to be practical enough to realize it a foregone conclusion based on the evening's sleeping arrangement. His eyes followed the pattern on the canopy above his bed as his mind began to thrum with plans to persuade and assure her.
He glanced at the light shining between the drawn curtains sometime later and realized the house would be wakening soon so Juliet must be roused. He planned to move just enough on the bed to make the ropes groan and hopefully wake his soon-to-be-duchess when a huge pounding sounded on his bedroom door. Before he could move Danvers emerged from the dressing room and opened the door to the barest slit.
“Yes?” he asked with a tone honed to imperious perfection.
“I know my daughter is in there so I suggest you move and let me in as well,” began the gravelly voice that clearly belonged to the Marquis of Lansdowne. Jonas saw Danvers brace himself against the door and the presumed pushing of said Marquis.
“My lord, you have the Duke's chambers. Perhaps your daughter could be more easily located in the guest wing,” replied Danvers, again his manner of speaking skirting between respect and disdain.
“I bloody well know what chambers I have,” bellowed Lansdowne before catching himself and lowering his voice to continue. “You tell the Duke, whom I have known since his unfortunate birth, that he will produce my daughter and then answer to me,” he snarled with quiet menace.
Jonas sat up in bed in preparation to address the irate father at his door when he heard a rustling to his left. He looked to the far side of his bed to see the sleepy, tousled face of Juliet rise above the coverlet. Good Lord, she's even more beautiful like this, he thought, making an effort to school his expression before others could see the obvious desire and admiration clearly across his countenance. His eyes greedily took in her half-tumbled hair and he silently groaned that he still could not see how long it truly was. One day soon he would, he thought, especially after this morning's meeting with her father. He shook his head slightly to bring his focus back to the present and off the thoughts of long hair the color of mahogany spread out across his pillows.
Juliet rubbed her face sleepily and looked into the face of the Duke and gasped loudly. His azure eyes were fire and ice, glowing as they looked on her with surprise and some other emotion she could not determine. She swept her gaze over his pillow-ruffled hair and beard-shadowed jaw before dropping to see his broad chest. His broad, bare chest. Juliet's mouth opened and formed an “o” before her gaze slid to the door to see her father's livid face over the head of the Duke's valet. Her eyes widened in alarm as her mouth now formed an “O.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
The course of true love never did run smooth . . .
William Shakespeare, A Midsummer N
ight's Dream, Act 1, Scene 1
"Saints and sinners," muttered Juliet under her breath. She buried her head in her hands and sank back onto the floor beside the Duke's bed. She felt tears begin to sting the backs of her eyes but she refused to let them fall, furiously blinking to hold them at bay. This was all a misunderstanding, a childish prank gone terribly wrong. Half-delirious from lack of food and adequate sleep, as well as her cramped position, she sent up a silent prayer this was all a horrible dream. She raised her head to peek over the side of the bed and groaned aloud at the number of onlookers awakened from sleep by the commotion, each vying for a glimpse into the Duke's chambers. "Merde, merde, merde," she complained to herself and again slumped to the floor.
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