The Duke's Dilemma

by Fenella J Miller

  ‘Hell and damnation! I’ll have to try again myself.’ He headed down the corridor, deciding to start with his own apartments and work his way back; she had to be somewhere. ‘Hester, Hester, where are you?’

  Calling her name out loud did the trick; the dog put his nose to the floor and raced ahead of him and into the sitting room.

  ‘Robin, with me, she must be in here. Perhaps she’s unwell and unable to answer us.’

  He burst into the sitting-room, calling again. Again no answer. The dog had vanished, his bedchamber door was open. But she couldn’t be in there, he’d looked under the bed, looked in the closets, surely he hadn’t missed her? There was no cranny large enough for a full grown woman to hide. As he reached the dressing room Jet began to howl – the hairs on the back of his neck stood up at the mournful sound. It was the bay of an animal grieving for its owner. Please God, not now, not when it was over. How could he live without his darling girl?

  The dog was sitting by the closet door, his muzzle pointed skywards, sounding like a wolf. ‘Enough, Jet. Silence. Are you telling me she’s in there ?’ He began to fling out the clothes, his jackets disregarded without a thought. ‘Robin, bring a candlestick. If the dog says she’s in here, then she must be. But God knows where, the closet’s empty.’

  He walked in, crouching down, the candle in front of him; at first he couldn’t see where she might be hiding but then he spied a narrow space running behind the shelves. My God! Was she squashed in there?

  ‘Robin, I’ve found her. We have to move the shelves and do it fast.’

  He pushed the candle into the crevice and at the far end he could see a crumpled shape. ‘My love, Hester, speak to me.’ She remained silent. He didn’t know if she was alive. Handing the candle to Robin he swung round, gripping the rear of the shelves with both hands, then threw himself backwards. They didn’t move. He was about to try again when Robin tapped him on the shoulder.

  ‘We’ll not do it that way, your grace. We have to work from the front; I helped the carpenter install something similar in your rooms. I know how they fit together.’

  Ralph backed out from the closet and jumped to the front of the shelves. Not bothering to remove the neat piles of undergarments and shirts he took hold of the wood and with Robin gripping the other side, heaved with all his strength. There was some movement. Two further massive pulls and the nails tore from the floor and in a tumble of splintering wood and folded clothes he fell over.

  The dust swirled around him. He ignored it and scrambled out from under the debris to step inside the ruined closet. As the shelves had crashed forward she had toppled to the floor. Reaching down to grip her under the arms, he lifted her gently. He threw her over his shoulder and backed into the dressing-room and out to his bedchamber.

  He carried her over to the huge bed and placed her on it, putting his ear to her lips; he believed there was warmth on his face but wasn’t sure. His fingers rested under her jaw and ran back to the juncture of her neck. Yes, definitely a faint fluttering. She was breathing, but barely. Ineffectually chafing her limp hands between his he called her name in vain.

  Then the fog cleared from his brain. She had been deprived of air, if he could refill her lungs then maybe that would restore her.

  ‘Get the shutters back, open the window, we need fresh air in here, Robin.’ He looked down; was it possible for him to expedite the process? A quack had blown his own breath into the mouth of a man who’d been fished out of a lake. The result had been miraculous –,perhaps this would work with Hester.

  What had the doctor done exactly? He couldn’t remember the precise procedure but matters could hardly be made worse. He knelt on the edge of the bed and filling his lungs he covered her nose with one hand and pulled her chin down with the other. Then he placed in a his lips over hers in order to expel his breath into her open mouth. Lifting his head he repeated the process.

  A sudden blast of freezing air shook the bed hangings. Gulping in a third lung full of this fresh air he bent down to place his mouth over hers for a final time. Her mouth felt less cold. Was his strange approach working?

  He bent down and scooped her up in his arms. ‘I’m going to take her over to the window, it might revive her.’

  Robin held on to the open shutters to prevent them banging in the gale that had developed during the morning. He looked down; to his astonishment and wonder a pair of hazel eyes stared back at him.

  ‘My darling, thank God, thank God. I thought I’d lost you.’

  ‘I’m more likely to die of cold, than anything else if you persist in holding me in front of an open window, my love.’ Her voice was no more than a whisper, but her tone was light showing she’d suffered no damage to her mind after her near suffocation in the closet.

  ‘Shut the window, Robin.’ He was reluctant to release her, wanted to crush her to his chest and smother her with kisses, tell her that his life would also have ended if she had perished. Instead he placed her carefully on her feet, keeping his arm around her shoulders in case her knees were weak.

  ‘Whatever possessed you to squeeze in behind those shelves? If I hadn’t found you when I did …’

  ‘There’s no need to say it, I know. In fact, I knew immediately I’d made a dreadful mistake. I was terrified, but had to hide until you came back. That was the only place I could find.’

  She leant against him, resting her face on his chest. Robin left the room giving them some privacy. ‘It’s cold in here, sweetheart, let’s return to the kitchen; you’ll soon be warm down there.’

  ‘Ralph, tell me, is everything well downstairs? It wasn’t cowardice that made me run away when I heard them coming in. They’d come to murder me. I believed if I remained free the others would be safer. The men would be more concerned with finding me than harming them.’

  He hesitated, should he tell her what had transpired or wait until she was fully recovered? ‘I’ve grave news for you, my love, poor little Meg was killed and your dearest friend, Miss Bird, was knocked out. I intend to send Robin at once to fetch the physician now that everything else has been settled.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Meg killed? How could that have happened? This was all her fault, if these monsters hadn’t been seeking her out the poor girl would be alive still. Birdie, her dearest friend, injured – it was too much to bear. ‘I must go to her at once. My chest feels a little sore, but apart from that and a slight headache, I’m fully recovered.’

  She wriggled out of his restraint, almost running along the passageway; taking the back stairs would be a quicker option but it would mean searching for a candlestick.

  ‘I take it you discovered who was behind the attacks?’ she asked him, as she hurried down the stairs.

  ‘The man refused to give his real name and I didn’t dare wait to discover it. I knew you were in danger.’

  ‘What did you do with him?’ She prayed he hadn’t killed him, she hated to think of the people who had died over the past few days.

  ‘I overpowered him; he’s tied up and locked in a cupboard. I’ll leave the magistrate to discover his identity. My main concern is to take care of you and Miss Bird.’

  Hester didn’t go into the kitchen, she ran straight past and up the stairs that led to the rooms she’d been sharing with Birdie. Her friend was lying quietly, eyes closed, her slight form barely making a shape under the coverlets.

  ‘Polly, how is she? Has she shown any signs of waking?’

  ‘Miss Bird’s much warmer, Miss Frobisher, and her breathing steady enough; I reckon the bang on her head gave her a bit of a concussion. She’ll be as right as rain by tomorrow, you mark my words.’

  ‘I’ll take over here, Polly. You go to your room and change. Then go to the kitchen and find yourself something to eat and drink. Without Miss Bird to organize matters we shall have to rely on Tom. His baking’s appalling but he can put the kettle on well enough.’

  Her attempt at humour had the desired effect and the girl’s face light
ened. ‘Thank you, miss, I should be right glad to remove these dirty clothes, it was that filthy in the root cellar, I can tell you. Would it be in order if I borrowed …?’ The girl’s eyes filled.

  ‘Yes, of course. Meg has no need of her belongings now. Lord Colebrook will make sure her parents are recompensed for their daughter’s sad demise. I’m sure they’ll not need her garments returned immediately.’

  Polly curtsied, leaving her alone with the person she loved most in the world apart from her darling Ralph. The room was warm, the fire huge and the curtains closed. She straightened the covers, checking for herself that Birdie was breathing and then then pulled a small padded armchair to the bed.

  How strange to sit in a room with the curtains drawn when it was scarcely noon! She walked briskly to the windows and threw back the heavy material, pulling open the shutters with a bang. She refused to sit in darkness as if her friend was already in Heaven. The fire was sufficient and the small window, halfway up the outer wall, didn’t let in draughts.

  She could see only the kitchen gardens and beyond to the woods from her vantage point. What a depressing view when the skies were heavy with unshed rain and the sun hidden firmly behind the clouds. She returned to her vigil, praying for her friend, hoping that somehow good could come out of the evil that had been done that day.

  *

  Ralph returned to collect his boots only to discover they had vanished. Where the hell were they? He wasn’t in the mood for practical jokes. He twitched the curtains away to check a second time but they were still missing. He straightened, frowning out of the window.

  Good God! His eyes widened as he stared across the park to the long gravelled drive

  Like a circus parade, headed by the scarlet uniforms of a company of militia, followed a large coach and two small closed carriages, whilst bringing up the rear some half a mile distant were a small body of townsfolk, parcels and bags under their arms. The missing servants were returning.

  His laughter rang around the room. Who the occupants of the carriages might be he had no inkling but unless he found his boots he would have to greet them, and the commander of the militia, in his stockings.

  *

  Hester heard a commotion outside the door and Polly burst in her face smiling and her ruined gown replaced by a clean blue dress and pristine apron and cap.

  ‘Miss Frobisher, Tom was about to go to town when his grace appeared looking for his boots and saying the militia are coming, plus three carriages and the staff that left last week.’

  Hester smiled. She’d quite forgotten about the notes she’d sent with the lawyers in all the excitement. ‘The duke has lost his boots? Do you know, I hadn’t noticed he was without them when he was here earlier.’

  Polly giggled. ‘They weren’t lost really, miss, his man had taken them downstairs to give them a clean. They’ve been restored to him now. I’ve brought you some coffee and what’s left of the plum cake. His grace insisted you have something to eat and drink.’

  ‘Thank you, but I’m not hungry, but the coffee is exactly what I need. Go back, Polly, and tell Seth and Robert to start lighting fires in the main part of the house and the apartments. We must transfer back there later today.’ She smiled fondly at her friend so worryingly still in the bed. ‘And as soon as Miss Bird’s recovered she shall move into the chambers next to mine. Her days of acting as housekeeper and cook are done with. She’s all I have in the world, and I shall not let her work for her living ever again.’

  ‘Miss Bird’s a lady and should not be obliged to live in the servants’ quarters as if she was something else.’

  ‘Quite right, Polly. From now on she’s one of the family.’

  Hester drank the coffee, the bitter taste reviving her wonderfully. She hoped the doctor would be in one of the carriages Polly had mentioned, but she feared the other would contain the vicar. Whatever would the reverend gentleman make of the chaos that was Neddingfield at the moment?

  Twenty minutes later there was a soft tap at the door and an unfamiliar maid servant came in and curtsied. ‘Begging your pardon, Miss Sinclair, but I’ve the doctor here to see Miss Bird.’

  ‘Excellent, please show him in, I have been expecting him.’

  Dr Radcliff smiled at her. ‘Good morning, Miss Sinclair, I have come to examine your patient. This is a nasty business all round, but at least I can see you are now fully recovered from your accident two weeks ago.’

  She looked at him blankly. Was it so little time since all this started? It seemed like a lifetime as so much had happened. ‘Miss Bird has a steady pulse, but I’m worried as she hasn’t regained consciousness.’ She went to wait by the window, leaving the physician to do his job. After a remarkably brief time the man straightened and turned to her, a broad smile on his face.

  ‘Has Miss Bird been overtaxing herself lately?’ Puzzled, she nodded. ‘In that case it explains what’s going on here; She’s deeply asleep whilst her body mends itself. She must have been exhausted by whatever has been going on here and the bang on the head has merely pushed her body into a deep restorative slumber.’

  ‘She’s not concussed?’

  ‘No, Miss Frobisher, your companion’s asleep. I advise you leave her to her slumbers whilst I go and examine the second patient, the young man with a bullet through his shoulder.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll go down with the good news.’ Outside the new maid was waiting anxiously. ‘

  ‘Excuse me, miss, I’m to conduct the doctor to James now.’

  Hester nodded. She caught a glimpse of her dishevelled appearance in the over-mantel mirror and paused, horrified. Her hair was in disarray, half up, half down, her face besmirched, and what had been a dismal gown was now a total disaster. She couldn’t possibly meet the vicar looking as she did but all her belongings were in the cupboard where Birdie slept. She wouldn’t go back in there and disturb her friend.

  There was another set of footsteps on the stairs and looked round to see our own abigail, Jane. ‘Good heavens! What are you doing here?’

  The girl curtsied. ‘We were held up by the snow, miss, but as soon as it cleared Bill set off and here we are. Not a moment too soon neither. I’ve had your trunks taken to your rooms. There will be something amongst them that’s not too creased so you can change before going downstairs.’

  She smiled. ‘I’m sure whatever you find will be better than what I have on at present.’

  *

  Ralph was in the drawing-room, the fire doing little to dispel the damp and cold that had accumulated whilst the room had been disused. His boots restored, his jacket brushed and the worst of the mud sponged from his breeches, he looked every inch the lord of the manor.

  He had been shocked, but delighted, to discover the occupant of the second carriage was Mr Blunt, the vicar of Little Neddingfield. Hester had been busy in his absence – he still had no idea how she had sent the notes and could hardly ask the gentleman perched nervously on the edge of his seat. No, he would have to contain his impatience until she arrived. The larger carriage, he should have known, belonged to Hester.

  He’d left Robin and Tom to deal with the young lieutenant; he had no further interest in the matter. His mind was firmly fixed on marrying his beloved as speedily as possible.

  He turned and his heart caught in his throat. Standing in the doorway was a young woman he scarcely recognized. Her hair was piled in a glorious golden coronet, her eyes huge in her oval face and she was wearing a ravishing, high-waisted gown in gold and green, that exactly matched her eyes. She looked enchanting and she was all his.

  ‘Lord Colebrook, Mr Blunt, I sincerely apologize for keeping you waiting. It’s so kind of you to come with such alacrity. No doubt his grace has explained the urgency?’

  Ralph blinked. Good God! Surely she was not alluding to their pre-empting the marriage service? If not, then he was as much in the dark as Blunt.

  Blunt bowed deeply, obviously impressed. ‘No, Miss Frobisher, we have waited for you before discu
ssing anything.’

  ‘Please be seated, both of you, shall I begin?’

  Ralph listened with incredulity as she explained, mainly for his benefit, that their Aunt Agatha had moved to live on the Continent and left her English estates jointly to them. Hester explained that until they were united as man and wife the estates would languish untended, as neither of them would be in the position to move matters forward. He hid his smile, she was talking total fustian, but Blunt seemed convinced.

  ‘Of course, your grace, Miss Frobisher. If you would kindly supply me with the necessary details, I shall expedite matters at once. As you have both been in residence here already for two weeks, there’s no difficulty on that score. Will be first week in December be suitable?’

  ‘Perfectly, Blunt. My man and Miss Frobisher’s can supply you with the information you need.’ He stood and bowed formally; the man took his cue, scrambling to his feet.

  All the ‘Good morning, your grace, madam, I shall look forward to conducting your wedding ceremony in three weeks’ time.’

  A parlourmaid curtsied and ushered the vicar out. Ralph followed him carefully closing the door before holding out his arms.

  ‘Ralph, we must not. They are still things we don’t know, loose ends to tie.’

  Reluctantly he nodded; she was right, until the militia removed the prisoner from the secret passage, the corpses from the outbuildings, and he had discovered the identity of the man behind the attacks, they couldn’t relax.

  ‘I suppose you wish me to ride with the militia when they go?’

  ‘I do, my love. There are so many things I don’t understand. How did this man know so much about Neddingfield and Aunt Agatha’s affairs?’

  ‘Can’t it wait until tomorrow? I can think of far better things to do ...’

  ‘Enough, your grace. What happened last night will not take place again until we are wed.’

  He grinned and kissed her gently. ‘We shall discuss that later when I return.’