Undone - Virginia Henley

by Virginia Henley

  Elizabeth and Emma hardly had time to unpack before the duke was planning a great party. "I want Glasgow Society to meet the Duchess of Hamilton while you are still in possession of your great beauty. It won't be long before you are ungainly and unfit to be seen in fashionable company."

  Elizabeth lowered her lashes to mask the hurt his words caused, while inwardly cursing herself for allowing anything he said to even touch her. "Your Grace must choose something for me to wear." The exquisite sarcasm went completely over his head.

  "We have a renowned artist in our clan. I shall arrange for Gavin Douglas to paint your portrait. I hope Emma packed your ermine-trimmed cape. Oh, and speaking of fur, I've decided to have a sable cloak made for your birthday. It gets bitter cold in Scotland. The ships from Russia that anchor in the Clyde at the Glasgow docks carry the most luxurious pelts. I shall take you aboard so you may select your own."

  The thought of choosing dead furry creatures made her queasy. She had such a love of animals that wearing fur was distasteful to her. "You are too kind, Your Grace." _Posing for yet another portrait and selecting sable pelts for a cape_ -- _what else could an eighteen-year-old desire for her birthday_?

  "By the way, did I mention that I have sent for your mother?"

  Elizabeth repressed a shudder. _That makes everything bloody perfect! I might as well be in London. I shall have to pose for my portrait all day until I am ready to drop, then dance all night with the Scottish_ ton. _To top it off. Mother will be here to spy on my every move and report it_. "How do you think of these things?" she asked sweetly. _Smile. You are the Duchess of Hamilton_!

  *Chapter Twenty-Five*

  Elizabeth, gowned in the Douglas colors of blue and white with sapphires blazing at her throat, stood beside Hamilton and graciously welcomed their guests who had traveled from Glasgow. The curve of her breasts swelling from the low-cut gown, with help from the glittering jewels, drew attention from the small mound of her belly. The duke had allowed her to wear her own golden hair, which also drew the eyes of both male and female alike.

  "Tom Calder, at yer service." The flame-haired man in his mid-thirties bowed formally. "May I partner ye in the reel, Yer Grace?"

  "I should be delighted, Mr. Calder." Elizabeth couldn't recall if this was the mayor, the provost, or chief magistrate of the burgh, but hoped the man in the kilt would not trample her feet.

  "Do ye appreciate bagpipes an' Scottish music, Yer Grace?"

  "Oh, yes. I consider it a great compliment to have reels and rants named in my honor, though to dance them takes much stamina."

  "Yer a braw lass!" her partner beamed.

  When the reel was over he drew her aside. "I ha' no doubt yer husband can refuse ye naught, so I'm solicitin' yer help."

  _You are wasting your breath_ -- _I have no influence with Hamilton_. "It is the duke who wields the power, not the duchess, I'm afraid."

  "I ha' ma doubts about that! Yer exquisite beauty must make him putty in yer hands. I'm provost of the Glasgow Zoological Society, and I'm hopin' tae persuade Hamilton tae donate some land."

  Elizabeth recoiled. "Zoo? I don't approve of putting animals in cages, sir!" _Oh, Lord, I've made an enemy with my sharp tongue_.

  "No, no, lass ... I mean, Yer Grace. We don't put them in cages. We've created a wildlife preserve where animals are free tae roam about in a natural environment. It prevents extinction from o'erzealous huntsmen an' protects creatures fer future generations. Scotland has many unique species. That's why we need more acres."

  Elizabeth's face lit up. "That is such a splendid concept!" A frown marred her brow. "You must know that the duke's father built Chatelherault Hunting Lodge here on the Hamilton estate. My husband is an avid hunter, I'm afraid."

  "Any Scot worth his salt is an avid hunter, lass, but huntin' an' preservation are no' mutually exclusive, do ye' ken?"

  "Yes, I do understand and wholly approve. The question is _will my husband_? You will have to broach the subject yourself, I'm afraid, but I promise to lend whatever influence I have to persuade him to give you some land, Mr. Calder."

  The provost squeezed her hands gratefully and walked a direct path to the Duke of Hamilton. Presently, she watched other men join them. Their expressions were dour, yet all held glasses of Scotch whiskey that the servants continually replenished, and she hoped the liquor would put him in a receptive mood.

  Later, when Hamilton placed a proprietary hand on her arm and led her toward Lord and Lady Erskine, she gathered her courage and spoke up. Urging him to deny the land just might push him in the opposite direction. "I was approached by a man of unmitigated gall who actually expected you to give him land for an animal preserve. I told him it was out of the question. Hamilton land must be passed on to our children, not given away!"

  His raised eyebrow mocked her. "Now that I've gotten my mare with foal, she is trying to take the bit between her teeth!" His next words showed her exactly who held the reins. "I've decided to give the Zoological Society a couple hundred acres. The Douglas clan owns so much land it will never be missed. Try not to be so openly avaricious, my dear."

  As the hour advanced and the liquor flowed, the atmosphere grew wild, and the crowd became uninhibited. The music increased in volume and tempo, as did the shouting, laughter, and cursing. Many of their guests decided to stay overnight rather than make the journey back to Glasgow, so it didn't matter how much they imbibed.

  Elizabeth took the opportunity to retire about three in the morning when other ladies went to bed and left their men to their whiskey.

  Because they had guests, Elizabeth arose early and went downstairs. The dining room was deserted, and breakfast food sat on serving tables in sterling silver chafing dishes. She selected scones and honey for herself then made up a tray of more hearty fare for Emma. On her way upstairs she encountered Morton. "Will His Grace be down shortly?"

  Morton shook his head and lifted his hand to his mouth to mime a drinking motion. "He blacked out completely... awoke in a bad way, with a bit of memory loss again."

  She felt guilty satisfaction that Hamilton was suffering for his overindulgence. "If he has forgotten, please remind him that some of our guests stayed overnight. But if he is unfit to leave his chamber, assure him that I will see to them."

  Over the course of the next two hours, their overnight guests departed. Few of them took breakfast, but all assured her that they had enjoyed their visit immensely and looked forward to entertaining her in Glasgow. With her serene smile in place, Elizabeth thanked them graciously. Then a small curl of excitement spiraled inside her. With the guests gone and Hamilton indisposed, she intended to visit the animals in the stable. Before she made good her escape, however, she encountered Morton.

  "His Grace wishes to see you, ma'am."

  Resentment immediately replaced her excitement. "He has a knack for spoiling every pleasure. Do you know what he wants, Morton?"

  "He wants you to fill in some of the blanks, I expect."

  She followed the valet, feeling decidedly uncharitable toward her husband. When she saw the drink in his shaking hand, she felt disgust and lowered her lashes lest he read her thoughts.

  "Hair of the dog for my hangover." He took a long swig. "I vaguely recall us having a slight altercation last night, Elizabeth, over a few acres of land. Would you refresh my memory?"

  Her thoughts darted about like quicksilver, then she raised her lashes and looked into his bloodshot eyes. "You donated land to the Glasgow Zoological Society for an animal preserve."

  "Ah, now I remember. Was it one hundred acres or two?"

  "You were right to be generous over my selfish objections, Your Grace. You made them a gift of two thousand acres."

  "_Two thousand_!" he roared as the whiskey in the glass sloshed over his hand. "You must be mistaken!" He glanced quickly at Morton, seeking help from any quarter.

  "You mentioned it as soon as you retired from the party, Your Grace. I distinctly recall you saying you would never miss two t
housand acres of Douglas land," the conspirator confirmed.

  Hamilton swung back to face his wife and saw her serene smile.

  "Your name will go down in the history books, Your Grace. Until now Hamilton's claim to fame in these parts has always been Chatelherault Hunting Lodge. Now, thanks to you, it will be Cadzow's animal preserve. Your generosity humbles me, Your Grace." Her success made her feel so giddy she was tempted to take a bow. "You must be hungry. Would you like some ham and eggs, or a few lamb kidneys perhaps?" As his skin turned a bilious yellow before her eyes, she savored sweet revenge.

  Elizabeth immediately wrote a note to Tom Calder, confirming the Duke of Hamilton's generous gift of two thousand acres of land: _When you thank him, it would be prudent to let my husband believe the idea was his, and best for me if you burned this letter_. She gave the note to Morton, the only Hamilton servant she could trust.

  Within a couple of days the duke recovered and took Elizabeth into Glasgow, not to show her the city but to show his duchess off to its leading citizens. In the late afternoon they boarded a Russian trading vessel anchored in the Clyde to buy sable pelts for her birthday cloak. Elizabeth carried a scented ball containing dried flowers, herbs, and spices to ward off the offensive stench of fish, animal pelts, and bear grease that the Russian sailors rubbed on their skin. Before she left the ship, however, she saw something that offended her far more. A small cage held two bear cubs that were completely white. The Russian captain informed her they were polar bears, something she had never known existed.

  "Are they for sale?" she asked, keeping her fingers crossed.

  "Indeed, Your Excellency. We keep them alive so they will grow and their skins increase in value until we find a buyer."

  "If you want white fur, Elizabeth, arctic fox is far prettier," Hamilton informed her.

  "No, no, Your Grace, I don't want them for their skins. I want you to buy them for your zoological preserve. How many people have ever seen white bears? They would cause a sensation!"

  Hamilton pinched his nostrils. "The damn things stink!"

  "That's because they've been kept in a small cage." When he moved away, Elizabeth clutched his arm. "Please, James, please?"

  He looked into her pleading violet eyes and realized it was the first time she had ever called him James, or touched him of her own volition. In that moment he felt omnipotent as a god who had the power to bestow favors, or not, on a mere whim.

  "I think not," he drawled and took delight in the anguished look on her beautiful face. He stood looking at her for long drawn-out minutes then exercised his power once more. "Why not? It is your eighteenth birthday, after all." He watched as joy suffused her delicate features.

  "I thank you with all my heart," Elizabeth whispered.

  The control he exercised over her emotions made him feel extremely masculine. He decided to send her back to Cadzow and stay in Glasgow tonight. He needed the services of a whore. Badly.

  As it turned out, Hamilton's absence from Cadzow stretched from one night to one week. The parsimonious city had few gaming hells, but its trulls were more plentiful than fleas on a pack of hunting hounds and because of cutthroat competition were inventive, compliant, and grossly debauched in carnal sins of the flesh.

  Elizabeth again corresponded with Tom Calder, telling him of the polar bear cubs and asking him for a special pen to accommodate their needs. She breathed easier with every day of Hamilton's absence. The head gardener built a dog run for the bear cubs, and when they arrived, she laughed at his pungent swear words. She even organized his young helpers to fish in the nearby river to supply the bears with food. She visited the mews each day and made friends with the falconer and his tethered birds of prey, vowing to remove their hoods if and when the opportunity presented itself.

  She spent untold hours in the stables, brushing a sure-footed Border pony that took her fancy and petting the donkeys. These were a smaller breed than other donkeys, and their soft wooly coats made them look and feel fluffy as a child's toy. Whenever she was outdoors, her constant companion was the Border collie. When she learned that the black-and-white female had no name, she searched her mind for something appropriate. She thought of a chessboard and its pieces then christened the dog Queenie.

  "Good God, you look like a ragamuffin!" Bridget made no attempt to hide her outrage when she arrived to find her daughter the duchess wearing a loose smock. "And keep that dog away from me."

  Elizabeth placed a restraining hand on Queenie and immediately fell into the old submissive habit of excusing her appearance. "I was in the stillroom helping to make potpourri and scented candles. I hope you had a pleasant journey, Mother."

  "I most certainly did not! I was uprooted from my London home, family, and friends and jolted over hundreds of miles to watch over your welfare, only to find you looking and acting like a scullery maid. You have no dignity! No sense of your station, Elizabeth! No wonder Hamilton sent for me. I can see these Scottish servants need taking in hand too. Where's Emma? Where is His Grace?"

  "He is in Glasgow ... on business, I believe."

  "Funny bloody business, like all men, I warrant."

  _She suspects Father! She's angry she had to leave him in London where he cannot be trusted, and I'll get the brunt of that anger_. She shooed Queenie back toward the stillroom, intent on soothing and appeasing the tyrant. "Come, you need a little pampering after such an arduous journey. I've chosen a lovely bedchamber for you with glorious views. Have a rest and I'll bring you some sherry and shortbread, then I'll get Emma to prepare a bath for you."

  Upstairs they found Emma already unpacking Bridget's luggage. The maid had no illusions about how demanding Elizabeth's mother could be. She bobbed a curtsy. "Welcome to Cadzow Castle, ma'am."

  Bridget sniffed and looked from the high window. "Hyde Park is my idea of a glorious view, not this godforsaken wilderness. It's worse than Ireland! Though I will admit this castle is far more luxurious than Castlecoote."

  "I loved Castlecoote," Elizabeth said wistfully.

  "You look like you never left! Go and change immediately. I brought you up to be a lady and, at great sacrifice to myself, arranged your marriage to a Duke of the Realm. You pay me back by dressing like a tinker's brat. Moreover, you do it deliberately!"

  Elizabeth went to do her mother's bidding. _I might be a duchess in the eyes of the world, but when Mother confronts me I am reduced to a submissive child. How I wish I had the courage to defy her_!

  The following day Hamilton returned and summoned Elizabeth and Bridget to the library. "Now that your mother is at Cadzow I have no qualms about returning to London for the opening of Parliament. Of course I'll return late October in time for the happy event."

  Elizabeth's spirit soared. _I shall have all September and October to enjoy Scotland without him_!

  He turned to Bridget. "I leave the welfare of the duchess and my unborn heir in your capable hands, madam."

  "Be assured I shall send a written report weekly, Your Grace."

  Elizabeth smiled serenely. _Emma and I will burn your bloody reports_!

  "There is one thing that disturbs me, Your Grace. I've seen a mangy dog hanging about. It could jump up on Elizabeth and harm your unborn child."

  Elizabeth seethed. _You bitch! You know that Queenie brings me pleasure and are intent on depriving me of her_. "The matter has been taken care of, James. I ordered one of the gamekeepers to shoot it." The facile lie sprang to her lips with ease. She had beaten her mother at her own game, and for once her conscience did not even prick her.

  "I shall have to leave before your birthday, my dear, so we shall celebrate it early in Glasgow with a grand birthday dinner. I shall present you with your sable cape, then I'll announce my gift of the polar bears to the wildlife sanctuary _.. . in your name_."

  "Your generosity humbles me, Your Grace." This time Elizabeth spoke from the heart. Such a gift meant more to her than all the furs or jewels in Christendom.

  At her birthday celebratio
n in Glasgow, Elizabeth introduced her mother to as many people as possible. She had lent Bridget her sapphires to go with the royal blue gown that contrasted so vividly with her red hair. Her intent was completely selfish; she hoped her mother would prefer Glasgow to Cadzow Castle and encouraged her to make friends with Lady Erskine, a woman of her own age.

  Tom Calder sought Elizabeth for the next reel, and she accepted because she wanted to talk with him. "I was right, lassie, His Grace is putty in yer hands. How can I thank ye fer wheedlin' two thousand acres from a Hamilton? No mean feat!"

  "You can thank me by creating a special place in your preserve for a pair of white polar bear cubs."

  "Can ye talk him intae importing a pair from the Arctic?"

  "He already bought them from a Russian trading ship in the Clyde. The duke will be announcing it to great fanfare." Her mischievous smile turned serious. "Tom, do you think Scotland might be too warm for polar bears?"

  Calder threw back his head and laughed. " 'Tis clear ye've never spent a winter here, lassie. 'Twill freeze yer very bones! I'll make sure the wee bears ha' a big pond. It'll be covered wi' ice eight months outa twelve!"

  "The duke must return to England for the opening of Parliament. After he's gone you mustn't be a stranger. Please bring your plans for the wildlife preserve to Cadzow. I'm dying to see them." As the overture to the next reel began she spied her chance to get out of it. "Oh, Tom, allow me to introduce my mother, the Honorable Bridget Gunning. She adores Scottish reels. Mother, this is Tom Calder." She winked. "You know what they say about redheads."

  Two days later, as Elizabeth stood waving a dutiful and subdued good-bye to her husband, on the inside her wicked juices were bubbling. She couldn't wait to get out of her whalebone corset and petticoats and into a soft lambswool dress. She would take Queenie to the river for a swim while she fished for a trout. Then they would go for a long walk and take a look at Chatelherault, the infamous hunting lodge that the last Duke of Hamilton had built.