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

by Emma Linfield

  “Oh, Sebastian. You frightened me for a moment. Of course you want to get to the bottom of that matter, and so should I. If you don’t mind, I’ll just go to my room now so that you can meet with him.”

  Sebastian kissed her gently once more, just for luck, then said, “Of course. You need not concern yourself. Would you like for Evans to show you the way, or can you find it yourself?”

  “I can find it, thank you Sebastian for a lovely evening. Your library is beautiful.”

  “I hope we can spend more evenings here,” he said.

  “Of course,” she lied. “I shall look forward to it.”

  Chapter 26

  On Boxing Day, Lillian kept the boys in the schoolroom as long as she dared. Martha Louisa went down to help with handing out boxes and bags to those who needed extra food, clothing or other goods. Toward luncheon time, the boys became restless. Mr. Stableman volunteered to take them to the stables so they could exercise their ponies. The sun was out again, and had melted the snow enough that the stable hands had cleared the exercise track.

  Lillian was supposed to relieve Martha Louisa at the door, but the constable was in the dining hall interviewing staff. Lillian pleaded a sick headache, and went to her room to lie down for a while.

  She was not lying about the headache. With all of the events, the sweet kisses from the Duke the night before, and now a constable downstairs going over events with the staff, her thoughts were in a terrible turmoil. What would this man ask? What could she safely tell him? Would he recognize her?

  Lillian tried to find a comfortable place to lay her head on her soft pillow. She felt feverish, and was glad the fire had been allowed to die down on the hearth. Usually, she found it a cheerful companion, well able to lull her to sleep as she watched the flames from her soft nest.

  But today it seemed more like a baleful eye watching her. “I know who you are,” it seemed to say. “I know what you left behind you. Was it a guilty conscience that made you run? Are you sure you did not put poison in your husband’s wine?”

  What could she tell Sebastian? She knew she wasn’t guilty, but almost anyone would think that she had been the one to put a little something extra in her husband’s drink. She certainly would not blame them. The circumstances were highly suspicious.

  At length she slept, but she dreamed. The slow worms were chasing her again, spitting out gouts of fire that singed her back and set her hair alight. As they drew nearer, they turned into Sebastian, Luke, Nick, and the school children, all teasing and taunting her. As they ran, they turned into crows all cawing, “Murderer, murderer!”

  Then they melded together, and Charles stood before her. “This is most unseemly,” he said. “Not at all elegant. I thought I taught you better than that. Romping like a hoyden. And what did you do to my lovely wine?”

  Lillian woke with a start. Late afternoon sun slanted across the floor. Her mouth tasted stale and dry, and the bed was far too warm. She threw back the covers, stuck her feet in her slippers. She staggered a little when she stood up, and the room spun around. She had just enough presence of mind to tug on the bell rope.

  Clinging to the corner post of the bed, Lillian considered the ewer of water that always sat on the stand beside the hearth. It was so very far away. The entire room seemed to waver.

  Just as she was deciding whether to take a step, Martha Louisa came through the door. “Miss Doyle, did you need something?”

  “Water,” Lillian said. “I am so thirsty.” She took a step and swayed.

  Martha Louisa put one arm around Lillian, then gave the bell rope two sharp pulls. “Miss Doyle, are you well?”

  “No,” Lillian nearly sobbed. “I feel dreadful. So hot.”

  Martha Louisa rested the back of her hand against Lillian’s cheek. “Gracious! You are burning up with fever. Here, let me set you down in the chair and get a glass of water. Mrs. Blanchard will be up directly, and we will get you all sorted out.”

  Lillian sipped the water, and began to feel a little better. In a short while, Mrs. Blanchard came in. “I’ve told the Duke, and he has sent for the physician. In the meanwhile, let’s have a look at you, my dear.” Mrs. Blanchard brushed the hair back from her face, inspected the burns where they were scabbing over, and pulled up one of the sleeves of her dress. “Have you had measles, Miss Doyle?”

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “Chicken pox?”

  “No.”

  “Smallpox?”

  “Definitely no. Why are you asking?”

  “You have as nasty a rash on your arms as I have seen in a long time. Let’s get you out of those clothes and into a nightgown, for the physician will want to have a look at you.”

  Lillian stood up, and held onto one wing of the chair while the other two women undressed her. “Measles, I think,” said Martha Louisa.

  “Or scarlatina,” suggested Mrs. Blanchard. “The rashes are similar.”

  “Not pox though,” added Martha Louisa.

  “No,” said Mrs. Blanchard, “and that is a blessing. All the same, we will draw the curtains and turn down the lights. Measles can cause blindness.”

  “Is the Duke angry with me?” Lillian asked, pitifully.

  “No, dear. He is moving the boys to the other wing, in case you are contagious. Come now, Miss Doyle, and let Mrs. Blanchard and I get you into bed. The physician will be here shortly.”

  “Do I need a physician?”

  “Yes, you do. And dear old Dr. Gavril is just the person to set you to rights. The villagers say he has the touch.”

  “I do feel rather horrible. My head and my stomach…Oh, dear!”

  Martha Louisa got a basin in front of Lillian just in time. “There! Measles, I think. Always makes you sick at the stommick.”

  The world turned into a strange blur after that. Lillian realized that Martha Louisa and Mrs. Blanchard were helping her into bed. It felt far too warm, but they insisted that she cover up.

  After a time, a man with a deep, rumbly voice came, looked at the rash on her arms. He asked a question. She knew it was a question by the tone, but the words didn’t make any sense.

  Martha Louisa replied, but it seemed as if her voice was underwater somewhere very far away. Then a voice that she knew, a well-beloved voice asked, “How is she?”

  Lillian turned her face toward the voice, squinting to see in the dim light in the room.

  “Your Grace, should you be here?” Martha Louisa asked. “I thought you were moving the twins.”

  “I contracted measles long ago. I’ve had my bout. As for moving the boys, they must have been exposed at the same time as Lillian, for they are also broken out.”

  “No surprise,” said the deep rumbly voice. “There are ten cases in the village, and probably more to come. Would you like for me to look at the young gentlemen while I am here?”

  “Indeed I would. I do not think they are in as dire straits as Miss Doyle, but they are breaking out quite nicely.”

  “I will come see them shortly. Let me see what we can do to make Miss Doyle more comfortable, then I shall be along.”

  There was the sound of a door opening and closing. Then something sweet and bitter all at the same time was spooned into her mouth. She swallowed, and the world went away.

  Chapter 27

  Sebastian went out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. It hurt to leave Lillian’s side, but there was nothing he could do that Martha Louisa and Mrs. Blanchard could not do just as well or perhaps better. No doubt Mrs. Blanchard would ask other maids to find others who had measles before so she could discover another maid to sit with Lillian.

  When he reached the boys’ chambers, he found them both wide awake and propped up in bed. Mr. Gardener was reading to them from Aesop’s Fables. It was not their favorite book, but the words were simple and within Mr. Gardener’s range of comprehension.

  “How is Miss Doyle?” Luke asked.

  “Just as spotty as the two of you, and feeling quite
miserable,” Sebastian replied. “Dr. Gavril is with her now. He will come look in on the two of you before he leaves, just to make sure that you are coming along nicely. We don’t want your measles to go back on you.”

  “Me neither,” Nick said. “I remember Teddy McFee. He broke out and then seemed like it went away, then it came back again. He’s not right in the head now.”

  “Poor Teddy was never just quite right,” Sebastian said. “But it is true that a high fever and measles poorly tended can have an adverse effect. We want both of you to continue having excellent brains, so you are to stay in bed and mind Mr. Gardener and Mr. Stableman. They are to be your nurses for this illness.”

  “We will be good as gold,” Luke promised virtuously. “We won’t cause any problems at all.”

  Sebastian laughed. It felt good to laugh in the midst of this disaster. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. Just stay in bed and keep warm.”

  Just then, there came a light tap on the door. Sebastian opened it to admit the physician.

  Dr. Gavril was a stout, muscular man in his middle years. He wore a sober suit of dun colored wool and carried a black leather bag. “So, you lads decided to follow your teacher’s example and get yourselves a nice case of measles, eh?” he asked jovially.

  He peered at their eyes and ears, examined the rash, and pronounced it as “coming along nicely.”

  “We were going to move them to another suite. Should we do so?”

  Dr. Gavril waved one hand dismissively. “No need. Unless you think they will disturb Miss Doyle. It will probably make it easier on your staff to have all the invalids in one place. And it will give you the chance to find out who has had measles already. No need to have the entire household down with spots.”

  “Quite true. Lie back down, boys, and cover up. Mind Mr. Gardener. Mr. Stableman will be up in due course with some clear broth and tea.”

  Even thought the boys were clearly not as sick as Miss Doyle, they lay back down readily enough. This, by itself, was a sign that they were feeling the effects of the disease.

  Although he, himself, had only a light case as a child, Sebastian knew that measles could create lasting effects.

  Dr. Gavril accompanied Sebastian back out into the schoolroom. There, he carefully sorted his instruments and tucked them back into his black bag. “Your brothers should be fine,” he said. “They are young and resilient. With good care, all that needs to be done is to allow the disease to run its course. Miss Doyle is another matter. Adults often have a more difficult time with these childhood diseases. That she is feverish and having nightmares are bad signs. You should have someone sit with her at all times.”

  “Of course,” Sebastian nodded. “We would have anyway. And with the boys, too. One of the advantages of having a loyal housekeeping staff is that they are more than willing to take care of the family as well as one another.”

  “Even as you take care of them,” Dr. Gavril responded. “I have seen some terrible things on estates where noblesse oblige is not observed.”

  There came a light tap on the door, and Evans looked in. “I hope I am not interrupting, Your Grace, Dr. Gavril.”

  “No, no,” Sebastian replied. “Was there anything else, Dr. Gavril?”

  “Indeed, no. We are quite finished here, Mr. Evans.”

  “Then, Your Grace, that constable person is waiting to see you. He says he was to interview the staff, especially Miss Doyle, today?”

  “I’m afraid he will have to wait to see Miss Doyle. She has contracted measles and will not be well enough to speak with him for several days. If you will set him up in the small drawing room, however, he can speak with any of the serving staff who are well.”

  “Your Grace,” Dr. Gavril looked puzzled. “Why is this constable here?”

  “You will recall that shortly before St. Nicholas Day, Miss Doyle was nearly snatched by someone who clearly intended harm. It was only our good fortune that Mr. Timony, the groundskeeper, was nearby and hit the assailant with a shovel. Quite naturally, he brought Miss Doyle into the kitchen. By the time he returned to the garden, the man had vanished.”

  “Dear me, that would be quite disturbing. Small wonder that you sent for a constable. But it seems that he has been a long time in arriving.”

  Sebastian shrugged. “He says that there was some immense scandal in London. Something about a man being poisoned just before departing for the opera with his wife. The woman was in the room with him when it occurred, so it is my understanding that they are seeking her for questioning. She ran after he died, which looks very suspicious.”

  “It does. But if she was poisoning him, would it not have been very odd to do it just before they were to go out? Usually when wives poison their husbands, they do it much more subtly.”

  “That is astonishing. Is it so common as all that?”

  The physician nodded. “There are usually reasons for it. The husband might be a drunken sot who beats both wife and children, or he might be a wastrel or a gambler. I put in my time as an apprentice with a physician in Cheapside. People can do some terrible things to each other, especially if they feel trapped.”

  “It does make you wonder what the world is coming to,” Sebastian said. “I am beginning to think that the battlefield is in some ways cleaner and calmer than many drawing rooms. It is one reason why I do not go about much.”

  “In some ways, drawing rooms can be another sort of battle.” Dr. Gavril finished packing up his equipment and drew the top flap of his leather bag over the carefully packed bottles and alembics, packets of herbs, scissors, knives, and other implements. “While I was learning my trade in London, I observed that a great deal of politics occurred in the backrooms of brothels and in the smoke environs of taverns. It might not be at the level of great statesmen, but it was politics, nonetheless.”

  “You are a most perspicacious observer, Dr. Gavril.” Sebastian clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “Well, I should go see this constable who has been sent at my request. I fear he will be sadly disappointed at not being able to speak with the star witness, as it were. But it is likely that he will be able to make do with speaking to the gardener.”

  “Just so. I must make my way back to the village to see to my other patients. I will return later in the evening to look in on your three, and to see if any staff members have come down with the malady. Good day, Your Grace.”

  “Good day, Dr. Gavril. I’ll gladly lend the sleigh if you need it for your rounds. It looks as if the weather is closing down again.”

  “I thank you kindly for the offer. But the blacksmith and two of our local carpenters got together last year and created a nice little oxcart for me. It has interchangeable wheels or sled runners. Your own stableman helped with training a pair of oxen who do a great deal better on snow than horses.”

  “Well! Would seem we have already helped you then. Evans, if you would be so kind as to see the physician out, I will go visit with the constable.”

  As Evans escorted Dr. Gavril to the front door, Sebastian went to the little drawing room where the constable waited. “Hello, Constable Michaels. I trust you had a restful night at the inn?”

  “Can’t complain. Nice little place, an’ tha landlord is an accommodating sort of fellow.”

  “I’m glad to hear that you are enjoying your stay there. Now, the next question is one of how we can help you do your work.”

  “Fer starters, I’d like to speak with the young lady who was attacked. The governess, is she?”

  “She is. Doing a very nice job of it with my young brothers, I might add. But you will not be able to speak with her today.”

  “An’ why might that be, Your Grace?” Constable Michaels eyed Sebastian suspiciously.

  “She has contracted a virulent case of measles. The physician has just been, and has given her a sleeping draft so that she might be more comfortable. But you can speak with Mr. Timony, the groundskeeper. He was the one who interrupted the miscreant and rescued Miss Doyle
.”

  “Won’t tell me much about motives an’ tha like, but it is a place to start. How long do you think Miss Doyle will be ill?”

  “It is hard to say. But usually, measles will run their course in no more than two weeks. She has just broken out in spots, so…let me see…” Sebastian thought a moment. “I think you might be able to see her on the first Wednesday after Twelfth Night. But it really depends on how ill she is and how well she recovers.”

  Constable Michaels took a ratty looking leather-bound notebook out of his pocket. He thumbed it open to an unused page and made a note using a worn stub of a pencil. “Seems like it’s always something,” he commented. “Might as well get started with your groundskeeper. Can I expect the butler to bring me people one at a time throughout the day?”