The Untold Tale of the Winter Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  A mound of hay was placed on the stone floor in front of the pulpit. A calf was brought in to represent the cattle who would live in such a place. In a few minutes, one of the village matrons dressed as an angel brought a baby to the girl who was playing Mary. (The baby, Lillian learned later, was the girl’s baby brother.) The baby yelled lustily when handed from his mother to the girl, but gave over his squalling when offered some sort of treat.

  As soon as the baby had settled, the shepherds entered, leading last year’s lambs, since it would be several weeks before lambing season. Then the rest of the village children filed in, acting as the other people who had been summoned for taxation. They gathered around the girl, Nick, and the baby, creating a tableau. They only held it for a minute or two, because it was certain that if they were at it long, one of the animals would misbehave or the baby would start to scream.

  The children filed back out, and soon returned to their parents, slipping into their pews, flushed with the success. The parson praised them, then went on to preach a sermon on peace, giving and goodwill for the holiday season. Well he might for the unusually early cold and snow were taking their toll on the parish’s resources set aside to care for the poor. Even with the Duke’s generosity, there were families who were beginning to feel the scant summer harvest.

  When the service was over, the Duke’s household returned to the castle. Mrs. Buskin and her helpers had returned to the castle shortly after the passion play, and now set out a prodigious luncheon of sliced meats, bread, pies and puddings (but not THE pudding). It was not a formal meal. People picked up food as they passed, even the servants.

  Sebastian sat in a great wooden chair by the fire. Lillian sat on a low stool with a high back on the other side of the hearth. The boys ran about the hall like puppies loosed from their kennel, occasionally interacting with children from the village.

  Various shop owners, farmers and village elders came by to speak with the Duke. Some merely talked about the weather, others shared concerns about some of the older people who lived alone or about buildings or mechanical things that weren’t holding up to the extended cold, wet weather.

  Lillian tried to keep her mind on the conversation, but as she began to relax in the company around her, she found herself nodding. After a little while, Sebastian came and knelt by her chair, as if he were one of the boys, paying no thought at all to the people around them.

  “Lillian, you look worn to a thread. Why don’t you go up to your rooms and lie down for a while? Tomorrow will be the hanging of the greens, which will go on all day long. You’ll want to be rested for that.”

  “Thank you. I think I will.”

  “I’ll see you there. The boys will be safe enough here in the hall with everyone to watch them. I’ll tell Evans so he will know to keep a sharp eye out.”

  Lillian hesitated, then dipped her head in acquiescence. “Thank you, Sebastian. I did not sleep well last night. I think I might be coming down with something.”

  “No wonder with all the excitement and being out in the cold for St. Thomas Day.” Sebastian offered her his arm, and she gratefully took it.

  The way from the dining hall to the schoolroom was not a great journey but by the end of it, Lillian felt as if she had traveled a million miles. “Perhaps I should have sent Martha Louisa up with you,” Sebastian fretted. “Truly, I could still send her up.”

  “I will be fine. I am just so very tired.”

  Sebastian touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “You feel warm. Perhaps I should send for the physician instead. You have promised to allow me to court you,” he added playfully. “You cannot run away from me until after Twelfth Night. You have promised.”

  Lillian lifted her face to his with a wan smile. “I promise not to run away, Your Grace, if you promise not to fuss. I am not made of glass, you know.”

  No one was in the hall, so Sebastian stole a quick kiss, scarcely more than a brush of his lips against hers. “I know. But I am selfish and greedy. I can scarcely tear myself from your side, especially since you are not well. But I have duties.”

  “And you should go to them. Have no fear. I will not try to light the fire again, and I give you leave to check it and put the fire screen before it as I know you long to do.”

  Sebastian gently guided her into the room. She sank down in the wingback chair before the hearth, and slipped her feet out of her shoes, while she watched him mend the fire. “I do not think I have been properly appreciative,” Lillian said. “Sebastian, I simply do not know what to think.”

  He turned from setting the fire screen where it would protect the room from any flying sparks. “Then say nothing at all, Lillian. Just know that my regard for you is growing every day. Please tell me, surely you are not indifferent to me?”

  Indifferent? Hardly since I can scarcely keep you out of my mind, whether for fear that I will lose you to mischance or that the constables will come and take me from this safe haven and from you.

  “Not in the least indifferent, Sebastian. You are one of the best things that has happened to me in a very long time. I just want us to be sure. We met scarcely a month ago, after all.”

  Sebastian sat down on the footstool beside her chair, and reached for her hands. “I feel very sure, Lillian. But I will give you all the time you wish before I ask you again. I won’t promise not to hint and wheedle like a little small boy hoping for a hint at what he will receive on St. Nicholas Day. I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “Oh, Sebastian.” Lillian brushed a stray lock of hair from his face. If only I felt right about telling him how much I have come to love him. If only I didn’t have this horrid secret weighing me down. “I will tell you that it will be hard to wait for Twelfth Night, but I believe it is for the best. Let us be sure of one another. We are not children, and we have time.”

  Sebastian kissed her fingers, first one hand and then the other. “Do you need any help? Someone to undo your laces? I can still send for Martha Louisa.”

  “No, no. I can manage quite well. Go take care of your guests, Your Grace, and look after your two scapegrace brothers before Mr. Evans makes them quite sick by bribing them with comfits.”

  “That sounds like the Lillian I am beginning to know. Very well, I will. You rest now, and try to sleep a little if you can.”

  When he had gone, Lillian rested her fingertips against her own lips where he had kissed them. Although nothing had changed, she felt unaccountably comforted. Perhaps everything would be all right after all.

  Chapter 21

  Sebastian closed the chamber door carefully behind him. He hoped Lillian would get some rest. He could not put his finger on it, but something had changed between last night and this morning. Had he pushed too fast? Did she fear that he would make promises, and many noblemen did, and then leave her? Nothing could be farther from his intent, but he could think of no other cause for sleeplessness that would cause her to rise and attempt to deal with the fire on her own.

  But she was right. If he left the twins with no more oversight than Evans, they would wheedle ginger nuts and other less wholesome delectable and generally run roughshod over the old gentleman. I can only hope and be the best person I can be toward her. I have so nearly lost her twice, once to being snatched and once to fire. I shall do my best to see to it that there is not a third time.

  He had no more than descended the stair when he was nearly bowled over by a thundering herd of children, his brothers at the head of the pack. They seemed to be playing at chariot races, with one child being the chariot, hands on the ground and feet held by the “driver” who must support a good part of the weight of his chariot.

  Sebastian pulled back to the stair, and opened his mouth to call the youngsters to order, when he realized that an aisle had been cleared for the activity, and that they were under supervision. Mr. Gardener and Mr. Stableman seemed to have taken charge of the lot of them, and were acting as referees.

  As the racing “chariots” came to the end
of their course, the children tumbled apart, laughing. Nick and his partner, a lanky ginger-headed youth Sebastian vaguely remembered as being the grocer’s delivery boy, won the round and were rewarded with ginger nuts, topped with a precious sprinkle of sugar. One of the maids came up then with a tray of gingersnaps, and all the children partook of the treats.

  Just as they were cramming the sweet biscuits into their mouths, Mr. Gardener glanced up and realized that Sebastian was standing on the bottom stair. “Form up,” he called out, “Officer on deck.”

  The boys quickly formed a line, and stood at their idea of attention. One of them was so rigid that he nearly fell over backward. “Stand easy, gentlemen,” Sebastian said solemnly, and tipped a wink at Gardener. “Are you Parkforton’s loyal charioteers?”

  “Yes!” they chorused.

  “Then show your discipline by walking slowly around the outside edge of the room. You must not run into anyone or anything, or you will lose the contest.”

  “Yes, Your Grace!” They shouted, then set off, with Luke and Nick heading up the line.

  “Too much for Evans?” Sebastian asked as he finished descending the stair.

  “The twins were working hard at behaving, Your Grace, but the village lads were doing that thing that all boys somehow seem to do. They were cleverly twitting them for behaving well. The races gave them all something more or less constructive to do. Since everyone here is either a staff member or parents, I saw no harm in it. I hope that was all right?”

  “Excellent, Mr. Gardener. Miss Doyle would probably have told them a story or had them doing calisthenics, but she has a special touch with all of them.”

  “That she does, Your Grace. The school master had gone home, and Mistress Melody has taken the littler ones and the girls to see the lambs.”

  “So you were left with the boys. I see they are marching nicely. Given the chance, Luke seems to have his troops in good order.”

  “Oh, quite. He bested the biggest of them at wrestling.”

  “Luke? I would have thought it would be Nick.”

  “It would have been, but the fellow taunted Luke for his ‘pretty blue eyes.’”

  “Hmmm. The village children are not usually so ill-mannered. Where are the parents?”

  “Gossiping. You’ve set the cat among the pigeons by declaring courtship of the governess, Your Grace. The parents were far too engaged to pay attention to their young. It is a mercy that Mistress Melody took the girls in hand. I don’t think either Luke or Nick would have known how to deal with them.”

  “Well-a-day. Betimes, neither do I know how to deal with the fair sex. If you have some magic formula, Mr. Gardener, I do hope that you will share it.”

  “Me? Not a chance, Your Grace. I was that glad that Mistress Melody had not yet gone home. I was heartily wishing that the school master or even the parson might have been on hand, but I believe he is dealing with questions from the villagers.”

  Sebastian realized that there was quite a clot of adults standing and sitting near the dining hall’s great hearth, and that the parson seemed to be casually toasting his back before the flames. “Perhaps I should go relieve him before he is roasted in more ways than one. I shall have to send a large contribution to the chapel this week.”

  “Your man of business mentioned that there was already a considerable largess planned for Boxing Day, was there not, Your Grace?”

  Sebastian sighed. “I’m afraid so. The weather is hard, coming as it has upon the heels of poor harvest. But you already know that. Let me go rescue the parson.”

  Sebastian could feel the footman’s eyes upon him as he moved away. As he neared the group of gossiping villagers, Sebastian sighed. Sometimes I wish I had been born an ordinary man instead of heir to a peerage.

  “Your Grace!” the parson called out. “How is Miss Doyle?”

  “Tired, a bit distraught. She had a mishap with some paper and the fireplace last night. We are thinking about sending for the physician.”

  “Too bad it was not thought on sooner. He was here just a short while ago.”

  The villagers made way as Sebastian neared the fire, then sat in his wooden chair. The thing was not quite a throne, but it was substantial, and well-padded with pillows and tapestries. Sebastian sat down in it with a sigh.

  The village headman came forward and sat in the straight-backed chair Lillian had occupied earlier. The rest of the villagers all found somewhere else to be, collecting up their young, cadging a last bite from the lavish tables, or clustering in far corners of the rooms. By this, Sebastian knew that they were giving the two of them privacy.

  The old villager, Edger Barnsworthy by name, stared into the blaze for a few moments, then said, “A young man has his wants an’ his needs.”

  “That is true,” Sebastian nodded.

  “The honorable man holds back an’ engages in holy matrimony.”

  Sebastian gave a wry smile. “Usually. Unless he is too deep in want, and gives in to temptation.”

  Old Mr. Barnsworthy stared into the flames and fretted his wrinkled lips over his gums for moment. “Always took you for an honorable man, Your Grace. You tuk up the estates, an’ you been raisin’ your brothers. Not many men o’ three an’ twenty woulda done it.”

  “More, perhaps, than you think, Mr. Barnsworthy. Some right here in the village. Young Robert Wright has done well with his nine younger brothers and sisters, I have but the two.”

  Mr. Barnsworthy cackled, his mouth opening wide, displaying pink gums and three grisly blackened teeth. “A right handful, those two. It is as well that you’ve kept them close. ‘Tis clear that they would lead the entire bunch o’ village young’uns and Lord knows into what mischief.”

  “Well, I do try. I have been deeply grateful to Miss Doyle for her handling of them.”

  “Miss Doyle.” The old man pinched up his face. “Now, she is a purty woman, an’ nice in her ways. But what do ye know of her, Your Grace? She turns up here outa nowhere. You first trusts the boys to her, an’ now, by the look of it, ye’re about ta trust yerself.”

  “She has, thus far, proven worthy of the trust. Tell me, Mr. Barnsworthy, what makes it business of yours?”

  “Ah, well here’s the thing, Your Grace. There is this old idea that the master is the land, and the land is the master. When you prosper, so does the land and so do we. If you falter, it all comes apart like a house o’ cards.”

  “Hmmm. I believe I see your concern. But I can assure you that my trust of Miss Doyle is unlikely to affect you or the village.”

  “Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but what you do does affect us. First, you hold the land. Iffen you don’t hold the land, we could be put off. They’s many as has been doin’ just that. Second, there’s your brothers. What you do, they are like to do. We hear’s tales o’ other places, an’ we worry.”

  “Very well, Mr. Barnsworthy. I give you leave to be plain in your speaking. Please tell me what it is that troubles you.”

  “Your Grace, it is plain to see that you are taken with Miss Doyle. An’ as I said before, she is a fine figure of a woman. Neat, trim, soft-spoken, an’ with a way about her a man, even as old as I am, can’t help but like. She’s well thought on amongst the women folk, too. But the real truth is we didn’t none of us know naught of her till she come a month ago. So’s that a worry.”

  “I have a feeling that isn’t all of it. Do go on.”

  “We’s all got two kinds o’ thoughts. First, she’s real likeable, and seems ta be a good woman. It would be a sad thing for a peer o’ tha realm, so to speak, to take her as his playtoy an’ then set her aside when he is done.”

  “I agree. That would be a sad thing, and more than a little dishonorable of the cad.”

  The old fellow flashed Sebastian a sweet smile. “I thought you might say as much. But then, there’s the other thing. She seems quality, but is she of good family? You’s a Duke, it ain’t likely that you should marry a commoner.”

  “I am by
no means convinced that she is a commoner, Mr. Barnsworthy. But even if she has sprung from the most ordinary of origins, she is in and of herself most uncommon. While it is not customary, for a landed Duke to marry beneath himself is not unheard of. I will tell you truly that marriage is my intent, and that I have asked her.”

  “An’ what did she say, if you don’t mind my asking, Your Grace?” the oldster leaned forward in his chair, intent upon the answer.

  I do mind your asking, you are interfering old busybody. But I can’t say that you are altogether wrong. You have named the obstacles I must overcome. “She gave me leave to court her. She has said much as you have said, Mr. Barnsworthy, that we do not know each other well and that many things could happen to change our minds in due course. She has asked time to think, but will give me an answer come Twelfth Night.”