The Duke's Dilemma

by Fenella J Miller

  ‘Please, Cousin, sit down. You are overlarge to be looming over a person like this.’ Her words halted him and the fierce gleam in his eyes vanished to be replaced by a bland smile.

  ‘I apologize, my dear. Shall I sit here by the desk or will you join me by the fire? I promise not to alarm you further by looming.’

  ‘I’m quite content where I am. But you would do better by the fire.’

  The humour left his face and she regretted her sharp tongue. Hastily she tried to deflect his ire. ‘I have come to the conclusion Polly might possibly hold the key to this. If we can fathom out why she was attacked when the others were left unmolested then we might be closer to an answer.’

  ‘Then fetch the girl and let me question her.’

  He turned to stare into the fire, rudely turning his back. Hester remained where she was determined not to be sent running on an errand like a child. For a few minutes the only sound was the fire and the wind rattling the window frames.

  Without turning he spoke again. ‘I believe I asked you to fetch your maid. I don’t wish to repeat my request.’

  His threat was veiled, but it would be foolish to disobey. He was being despicable and overbearing today. She slammed back her chair and without a word stalked across the study and out into the icy corridor. A gentleman would not have suggested she fetch Polly, but would have rung for a servant or even gone himself.

  She scampered up the main stairs and ran pell-mell along the corridor and burst into her parlour. ‘Polly, are you in there? The duke and I would like you to come downstairs; we have some questions to ask you.’

  The girl jumped up spilling her sewing onto the carpet. ‘Miss Frobisher, I hope I haven’t offended in any way?’

  ‘No, of course you haven’t. I’m delighted with you, in fact I’m not in going to let you go. You do realize I’m going to insist that you accompany me back to Draycot Manor?’

  Hester saw the delight on Polly’s face them watched it fade to sadness.

  ‘Thank you, miss, I should’ve loved to come. Having employment with someone like you is something I’ve dreamed of, but I can’t leave without my Sam.’

  ‘Then I shall employ him as well. Come along, Polly, his grace is waiting.’ She didn’t add that in his tetchy mood it would do neither of them any good to dawdle upstairs. She was tempted to detour to the kitchen and make the objectionable man kick his heels for a while longer. Then remembering the steely tone in which he’d issued his second instructions she thought better of it.

  ‘Here we are, your grace. I do hope we have not kept you waiting.’ Hester’s tone dripped insincerity. Her false smile slipped under his hard stare.

  ‘Polly, come and sit down. Take the chair by the desk. Don’t look so worried, I just want to talk to about your connection with Neddingfield Hall.’

  The girl dipped in a low curtsy walked quickly to the designated place where she sat, hands neatly in her lap, her head bowed demurely. Hester resumed her seat behind the desk wishing she could hide under it instead. Deciding she would remain mute and not give him the opportunity to snap at her.

  ‘Polly, we know you’re betrothed to a groom here. Sam Foster, do we have that right?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes, your grace, but we’re not exactly betrothed, we can’t think about getting wed until he finds himself a job as head groom and gets married accommodation along with it.’

  ‘We think whoever caused Miss Culley to leave here last week believes you know something you could reveal to us and that’s why they tried to abduct you. Can you think of what that might be?’

  The girl stared at her cousin in astonishment. ‘No, your grace, I can’t. I’ve never been here, not until I came the other day. Although my Sam talked about the place, told me everything that was going on, we often laughed about …’ she stopped and Hester saw her flush painfully and longed to reassure her.

  ‘What sort of things did he tell you, Polly?’ Hester forgot her determination not to interrupt. Ralph flicked her a glance and she closed her mouth hastily. She was surprised her maid had not picked up on the tension.

  ‘He told me once that Miss Culley had friends in France, not aristocrats you understand, but more the revolutionaries. She certainly went abroad and had plenty of foreign visitors. She had a captain with a fine yacht who used to come and collect her when the tides were right. Do you think that’s where she’s gone now?’

  ‘It seems the most likely explanation. Do you know if Miss Culley travelled with her staff when she went away?’

  ‘I think so, your grace. Usually she liked to take her own people. But my Sam said that she always arranges for a tenant farmer to come in and take care of the horses and so on whilst they’re away. When she went last time she didn’t bar the gates. That’s the talk of the town, I can tell you. Gates shut and no-one there to have done it.’ The girl shivered dramatically at the thought. ‘Something’s not right here. People think …’

  ‘Thank you, Polly, you have been most helpful. You may go now, I’m sure you have duties to attend to upstairs.’

  ‘Yes, your grace.’ She jumped to her feet eager to escape and from the room.

  Hester called her back.’ Polly, could you go to the kitchen and take a tray up for Miss Bird’s luncheon?’

  ‘Yes, miss, it’d be a pleasure.’

  The door closed behind the girl leaving Hester bracing herself for a severe set down. To her relief Ralph smiled.

  ‘I think Aunt Agatha might have supported Bonaparte and not the English during the war.’

  ‘Are you suggesting she’ s run away?’

  ‘It’s possible. If someone discovered her sympathies they could have used it to blackmail her into leaving.’

  Hester jumped to her feet. ‘It’s too preposterous. Aunt Agatha’s a well-known freethinker, a Liberal, but not a traitor. I won’t believe it.’

  Chapter Eleven

  It was as cold inside as it was out and the only room that was bearable at Bracken Manor was the drawing-room in which Bertram Sinclair spent most of his time. The fire burnt day and night, but the rest of the house was left to freeze. He had had his bed set up at the far end of the room with bamboo screens to give him privacy.

  He hated Lord Colebrook with a virulence he could scarcely contain. This was eating him up and until the man was dead, and the money and title returned to their rightful owner, himself, he would get no peace.

  A loud bang on the door interrupted his vengeful thoughts and he composed his face and ordered whoever was there to enter. He was expecting a message to have come from the woods that morning.

  ‘Beggin’ your pardon, sir, I ’ave the message you bin awaitin’.’

  ‘For God’s sake don’t stand with the door open, close it, it’s cold enough in here already.’

  The man shuffled forward; he was wearing sacks tied round his legs, two coats and a muffler about his head; it obviously wasn’t any warmer in the kitchens.

  ‘It’s like this, sir, they sent someone from the ‘all through the woods. The boys as took ’im; ’e didn’t know what ‘it ’im. The boys what took ’im found these papers in ‘is pocket.’

  Bertram reached out and took the papers by the edge not wishing to stand any closer to

  the vermin-infested creature who was addressing him so familiarly. He no longer recognized the three men that had accompanied him from the New World.

  Quickly perusing the first sheet he glanced up at the wretched man who was now edging closer which meant he had to back away to stand in the howling draught from the leaky windows. Neddingfield was sending for more staff and there was a letter addressed to the militia and one to the legal firm in London. He didn’t bother to open those, just tossed them into the fire to watch them shrivel up. He felt a rush of triumph. He was in charge and he had thwarted his enemies’ plans yet again.

  ‘Is that all?’ Why didn’t this object remove himself? His malodorous body was tainting the atmosphere. The business of the captive had to be dealt with. ‘Doe
s the man still live?’

  ‘Yes, sir, ’e does at the moment. They thought it ’ud be useful to let him go later, ’alf mad with fear, thinking ’e ‘ad been ’eld by ghosts in ’ell itself. They can top ’im, no problem if that’s what you wants.’

  Bertram considered the suggestion. ‘It would do no harm to keep him alive for the present. You’re sure he has no idea where he is or how he got there?’

  ‘Yes, sir, Jonesie said ’e wos still unconscious, and trussed up like a fowl. They’ve stowed ’im be’ind some barrels. The lads says they’ll moan and groan like and rattle the chains every now and again just to keep ’im scared witless. The prisoner’ll survive down there a few days I reckon.’

  ‘Very well, is there anything else?

  The man shifted uncomfortably from side to side and James felt his rage return; he had bad news. He didn’t like bad news.

  ‘It’s like this, your honour, the staff ’ave run away, all them lights and the and the bangin’ and clankin’ the lads bin making was too much them and they’re on their way back to town.’

  Bertram scowled, this was good news surely? ‘That’s exactly I wanted; word will spread like wildfire around the neighbourhood and no one will dare come near Neddingfield Hall. Even if they think Colebrook is in some sort of danger, they’ll not come to investigate, not if they think there are ghosts involved.’

  ‘One of our lads over’eard them talking, it seems there’s two ladies living there as well, one of ’em is an heir to the old lady wot wos livin’ there.’

  James turned and swept the tray of congealing food and the empty decanter from the table. Then he stamped on the remains, crushing the glass and crockery to small shards. He didn’t hear the door close or notice the man, who had once been the closest thing he’d had to a friend, vanish back to the kitchen.

  Another visitor? He had been planning this for over a year, how could he not have discovered there was another heir to Neddingfield Hall. He didn’t like killing women, he did it, of course, but it wasn’t something he enjoyed. But there could be no witnesses to his perfidy, this mystery woman’s days were numbered. His men had instructions to continue to reduce morale with more ghostly goings-on and then in a day or two he would strike.

  *

  Hester collapsed at the desk, dropping her face in her hands. She loved Are, admired her defiance of convention, but this? It was too much to take in. Surprised Ralph hadn’t spoken, she sat up to find him watching her from across the wooden surface.

  He looked so fatigued, his face grey, his eyes bloodshot, then she understood he was equally shocked. She rallied and forced her mouth and a semblance of a smile. ‘It seems plausible, does it not, that our aunt sailed to France for some reason?’

  ‘It does indeed.’ He paused, rubbing his eyes as if they ached. ‘I wonder, my dear, as we have been in each other’s company so much over the past two days, do you think we might dispense with all formality? Shall we call each other by our given names alone?’

  Hester had been about to refuse, but how could defying convention in this small way matter after the revelations about their aunt? ‘Very well, it’s a trifle cumbersome referring to you as Cousin Ralph. You do realize, that by being on such familiar terms you have placed yourself in the position of a sibling, only brothers and sisters may refer to each other in this way.’

  She saw something flash across his face and wondered how she’d managed to annoy him this time? It wasn’t anger she’d seen there, but something far more dangerous.

  He stretched across the desk, covering her hands in his. He turned them over and began to trace gentle patterns with his thumbs on her palms. Her insides melted and she forgot what she’d been about to say. She should snatch her hands back, jump to her feet in protest but an odd lassitude overtook her and she left them where they were. Her head felt heavy, her neck too slender to support it; an unusual heat was pooling in her nether regions.

  She jerked and this time extricated herself from his grip. ‘Your grace, I must protest. You have no right to treat me disrespectfully. We are not betrothed.’ No sooner had she spoken than she regretted it.

  His expression triumphant he was on his feet, towering above her, eyes blazing. Next, as if she weighed nothing, he grasped the arms of her chair and swung it round so her feet were facing outwards, away from the desk. Then to her horror he dropped to one knee and took her hands again.

  ‘Exactly so, sweetheart.’ His voice was low and intimate, sending shivers of apprehension, or perhaps excitement, up and down her spine. ‘You must know how I feel about you. I’ve waited years to meet the right woman and finally I have.’ He paused, and raising her hand, delicately kissed each fingertip, his breath warm, the sensation like nothing she had ever experienced.

  ‘Would you do me the inestimable honour, my darling girl, of becoming my duchess? We can unite the two branches of the family and our fortunes and run the estates together.’

  Unite their fortune? Is that what this nonsense was about? Keeping the money safely in the family? Her spurt of anger gave her the courage she needed to refuse his ridiculous proposal.

  This time she removed her hands. She bowed her head, acknowledging his question.

  ‘Lord Colebrook, kindly get up from the floor, you’re making a cake of yourself. I have no intention of marrying you, not now or later. What a ridiculous idea! Why we’re scarcely acquainted and you’ve already tried to kill me and taken liberties with my person. I can assure you, I did not enjoy either experience.’

  Now she had offended him. He was back on his feet, scowling down at her as if she was a recalcitrant member of his brigade.

  ‘Very well, I’ll accept your refusal for the moment. But be very sure, Miss Frobisher, the matter’s not decided. Before you leave here you might be glad to have the protection of my name.’ He spun and marched out, parade ground stiff, every inch a soldier.

  She didn’t stop shaking for several minutes. Eventually she felt strong enough to stumble across the room and believing she needed a hot drink, she tugged the bell-strap. She might be ready for a bowl of soup as well; it seemed a long time since she’d broken her fast that morning.

  She waited fifteen minutes but no one came to answer her summons. How odd! She decided to go to the kitchen and see for herself what was keeping the maid. She pulled her shawl tightly around her before braving the icy corridor and walked briskly until she reached the warmth of the grand hall. Here she paused in front of the fire glad the two tree trunks were still alight. Taking a deep breath she hurried towards the rear of the house and into the kitchen knowing it would be warm in there. She pushed open the door, stopping abruptly. The room was warm, the range burning, but of Cook and her two assistants there was no sign.

  What was it about Neddingfield that one moment people were there and the next minute vanished? She went out into the corridor that led to the boot room and saw there were no cloaks and clogs hanging up. Everyone had gone outside, but why would they do this when there was so much snow? She hurried back to the kitchen and went across to peer through the window. The blizzard had abated; the sky was a clear blue, the sun shining.

  She would go and see Birdie; she would know what was going on. Hester picked up a candle, lighting it with a taper pushed into the range, then took the stairs that led to the housekeeper’s domain. On opening the door the sound of sobbing was clearly audible and the murmur of her companion’s voice attempting to offer comfort. Whatever was going on?

  The door banged shut behind her and the noise ceased; she heard footsteps and Birdie was there, her face etched with concern. Crouched on a chair beside the fire, first wringing her hands and then wiping her eyes on her creased apron, was Polly.

  ‘Hester, my dear girl, I’m so glad you’ve come. I couldn’t leave Polly to fetch you and it would seem there’s no one else downstairs to run errands. You’d better come in at once and hear of the fresh disaster that has overtaken us.’

  Hester went to Polly’s side and squeezed
her shaking shoulder. ‘Whatever’s wrong? Why are you so distressed?’

  The girl gulped, shook her head, then made a valiant effort to answer. ‘Oh, miss, it’s dreadful. They’ve gone you know, everybody’s left. I went to the kitchen but it was empty. I checked the pantries and the root cellar, but there was no-one. I ran upstairs to our rooms in the attic and they’re all empty too; Cook, the kitchen maids, parlour maids, everyone but Meg, has vanished into thin air, just like Miss Culley and my poor Sam and the rest of them.’ The girl was overcome by another wave of weeping and buried her face in her apron once more.

  Hester straightened, moving to join her friend by the window. ‘Why has the staff left so suddenly? Are you certain Meg’s still here?’

  ‘According to Polly she’s sewing in your dressing room. I haven’t been up to check, but she was there an hour since, and unless one of the other girls went up to get her, she’s there still.’

  ‘I shall go at once and fetch her. It will be better if we’re all together.’

  She raced down the stairs, across the passageway and into the back stairs to arrive opposite her chambers breathless and her candle flickering wildly. She blew the flame out before rushing across the passage and into her rooms.

  ‘Meg, Meg, are you there?’

  She heard a welcome noise and the girl appeared in the doorway. ‘Here I am, Miss Frobisher, I was wondering what happened to Polly, she’s been gone that long, I was becoming a mite worried.’

  ‘Meg, she’s with Miss Bird, and I want you to come with me. Leave whatever you’re doing and we’ll go straight there together.’ Having blown out her single candle, and not wanting to stop and fiddle with the tinderbox, she decided to take the long way round which was bright enough in daytime.

  All had disappeared - did that mean Ralph had gone as well? She froze and the girl running behind, unable to stop, crashed in to her. Hester fell to her knees, banging her elbow painfully on the wall. Meg was instantly overcome with apologies.