“Of course not.” Tristan dismissed the idea summarily. “A girl your age can’t live alone in a house, and actually we have plans for it. Elizabeth’s mother has been feeling poorly, and might benefit from some country air. Elizabeth wants to redo that house for her.
“In fact, we had another idea for you. As you know, Angélique, our father didn’t provide for you. He couldn’t. He suggested an amount that I might give you as an allowance, but quite honestly, I would be irresponsible if I did so. Father was getting old, and some of his ideas were the ramblings of an old man. I cannot dilute what I need to run the estate by giving you an allowance, and it would be unfair to my own daughters if I did. He set aside a sum for Edward, but in fact, he left nothing outright to you, and he couldn’t. The entail on the estate doesn’t allow for it—everything comes to me. And I feel sure that you don’t want to become a burden to us.”
“No, not at all,” Angélique interjected, embarrassed, not sure where he was going, since he had ruled out the possibility of her living in the Cottage.
“The sad fact, my dear, is that young women in your position have no choice but to go to work. And there is very little you can do. You’re not trained to be a teacher. And well-born young women with no means at their disposal become governesses, and live under the protection of the families they work for. You have no experience as a governess, but there’s no reason why you can’t be a nanny, and I’m sure in time, you could work your way up to being a governess, as you mature. Elizabeth and I want to help you. I spoke to some very nice people I know, when Father began to fall ill, seeing this eventuality looming toward us. And they are willing to do you a great favor. They have agreed to take you on as a nanny, for a small salary at first since you have no experience.
“They live in Hampshire, have four young children, and are very pleasant people. Her father was a baron, and her husband has no title, but they run a very respectable household. Not as large as this, of course, but they’re willing to pay you a wage to take care of their children. And really, my dear, there’s nothing else you can do. I’ve already told them you’d take it. I’m very pleased for you. I think this is an ideal solution for all of us. I know you’ll be well cared for, you won’t be a burden on us, and you won’t have the awkwardness of staying on here now that Father is gone. I actually think you’ll be very happy.” He smiled at her as though he had just bestowed a wonderful gift on her, and she should be immensely grateful.
For a moment, Angélique thought she might faint, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. She steeled her spine and sat up straighter, although she was deathly pale. Her father had been right not to trust him to take care of her after he was gone. Tristan was a snake. He had promised their father he would provide for her, and instead he was turning her out of their home, to go and work as a nanny for strangers, people she had never even met. It was almost beyond belief, but not quite, knowing how much Tristan, Edward, and Elizabeth had always hated her, and resented the close relationship she had with her father. Now they had set on her like wolves.
“We have everything arranged,” he assured her, and she was sure he did. “You won’t need most of your things—you can leave them here. We’ll put them in the attic for you. You can send for them if you find you want them, but I doubt you will. Elaborate gowns would be of no use to you—you’ll be wearing a simple dress suitable for a nanny, and an apron, when you’re on duty. We were going to tell you in a week or two, but apparently their nanny is leaving and they need you sooner. The timing is quite perfect, really. You don’t have to stay, grieving over Father. You’ll be busy at the Fergusons’, and will have to think of other things.” According to him, everything about it was perfect, except for the sad reality of what he was doing. He was betraying his own sister, and sending her out into the world without a penny as far as he knew, to be a nanny. It was the ultimate revenge for how much their father had loved her. He had finally gotten even, after resenting her all her life. His time had come, and he was simply getting rid of her, without giving her a second thought.
“When do they expect me to start?” she managed to choke out as she stared at him in horror.
“Tomorrow, actually. You’ll leave in the morning. I’ll send you to Hampshire in the small chaise—not Father’s carriage, of course. You don’t want to embarrass yourself by arriving in a formal carriage or the coach. You’re a working woman now, Angélique. I’m sure you’ll do a very good job, and wind up as a governess one day. You can teach the children French.”
He had always hated the fact that she spoke another language, and he didn’t, but he had never bothered to learn one either. He had been jealous of everything she had and was, and had waited all these years to take it all away from her, and now he had the power to do so. The entail played right into his hands since he had inherited everything, and had chosen to give her nothing. She understood now why her father had given her the pouch with the money before he died. He had been afraid something like this would happen, and it was the only way he could provide for her, and he hadn’t trusted Tristan to do it. But even her father couldn’t protect her now from having to be a nanny, a servant in someone else’s home, and being forced from her own. He had told her not to use the money frivolously or until she truly had to, and for now, she wouldn’t. She would keep it until she needed to provide a home for herself one day, or had no other form of income, which could happen too, if they sacked her or she left them. And she was much too young to buy a house now and would have no idea how to do so. They were sending her away in a matter of hours, with no time for her to prepare or make an alternate plan.
For now, thanks to her brother’s machinations, she had a job as a nanny, and presumably she would be safe in her employers’ home. She would do it for as long as she had to, and then find some other way to support herself. There had to be more to life, and her destiny, than this. It sounded like being forced into slavery to her.
“So, we’re all set, then,” he said, standing up to indicate that their meeting was over. “You’ll have a lot to do tonight, packing. There’s no need to say goodbye to Elizabeth and the girls—they told me to say goodbye to you. They won’t be up in the morning when you leave.” So they had banished her. She had been dismissed. Her life at Belgrave was over. It belonged to them now. And there was no room in their life or home for her. He had always thought that their father had spoiled her, and he had found a job as a nanny to put her in her place. She knew as she said goodnight to him that she would never be back here again. She would never see her home again. It would remain like a distant dream, with the memories of her father and the wonderful times they had shared. All of that was over now. Tristan and his evil wife had dispossessed her, and she had no choice but to try and survive in the world and life they had cast her into. Perhaps they thought that losing everything would destroy her, but she knew she couldn’t let it. She had to fight for her survival, whatever it took, in spite of them.
Tristan walked up the stairs to their father’s bedroom, as she watched him. Elizabeth would be waiting for him, and he could tell her that he had “taken care of it.” The matter of Angélique had been solved, with the end result they wanted. And Angélique had never hated anyone as she did her own brother that night.
Instead of going upstairs after Tristan left her, she went downstairs to see Mrs. White. She was just locking her small office next to Hobson’s, and they were saying goodnight to each other, as Angélique came running down the stairs, her eyes wide, her face pale. She had to tell them she was leaving, and Mrs. White could see instantly that something terrible had happened to her.
“What is it, child?” She didn’t seem like Lady Angélique at that moment, but like the little girl Mrs. White had known all her life.
“They’re sending me away to work as a nanny,” Angélique blurted out, still shaking from everything she’d just heard. Mrs. White’s eyes were shocked, and Hobson couldn’t help but overhear her.
“They’re doing
what? That’s impossible! His Grace would never allow such a thing!” he said in a horrified tone, but he and the housekeeper both knew what the entail meant, and all the implications of it. She was truly at Tristan’s mercy, and he had devised a clever plan to simply get rid of her, rather than take care of her. He had waited eighteen years for this moment. The two devoted servants couldn’t believe the cruelty of it, to lose her father who had loved her so much, and her home only days after.
“They’ll have to change their minds and bring you back at some point,” Mrs. White said hopefully, but even she didn’t think it was likely. Tristan was a bad man, and his wife was a hard-hearted, selfish, greedy woman.
Angélique melted into the older woman’s arms then, as Hobson turned so the two women wouldn’t see the tears rolling down his cheeks. He couldn’t bear what Tristan and his wife were doing, but there was no way to help this child who had never been out in the world on her own. And somehow she would have to endure it.
“I’ll be all right,” she said bravely, thinking of the money her father had given her. But she wasn’t going to touch it yet. Her father had told her not to, although he couldn’t have known what Tristan had in store for her. Even he, in his worst fears, couldn’t imagine treachery to this degree.
“You’ll stay in touch, won’t you?” Mrs. White asked her, looking desperately worried.
“Of course. I’ll write to you as soon as I get there. Will you write to me?” Angélique asked her with pleading eyes.
“You know I will.” They hugged again, and Angélique went upstairs to pack for her new life. She put all but a few of her beautiful dresses in trunks, along with her books, and a few favorite possessions she knew she couldn’t take with her. In the bags she was planning to bring, she packed a small portrait of her father and a miniature of her mother, painted on ivory, a few treasured books, as many sensible dresses as she could put into her valises, with a hatbox full of sober bonnets, and a fan that had been her mother’s that she had always loved as a child. Her mind was whirling as she finished packing, and she lay in bed all night in the freezing room, feeling like she was going to the guillotine like her mother’s ancestors in the morning.
She had breakfast in the servants’ dining room; only a few of them were up. And when she left, Hobson and Mrs. White saw her into the small chaise, like loving parents. They were the only ones she had left. And as the chaise pulled away from Belgrave Castle in the morning fog, she didn’t see her older brother watching her from his bedroom window with a look of satisfaction. He had done it. The French whore’s daughter was gone, and Belgrave and all its land was his now. He had waited a lifetime for it.
—
Angélique was looking at the outline of her home against the morning sky as she left, and both Hobson and Mrs. White cried after the chaise rolled away. They wondered how Tristan and Elizabeth would explain her sudden disappearance.
As Angélique bumped along toward Hampshire and the Fergusons, with a coachman and no footmen, the daughter of the last duke of Westerfield faced her future with fear, dignity, and courage. She had her father’s money locked in a small trunk she had brought with her. And she thanked him silently yet again for the immeasurable gift he had given her. It would provide her with a home one day, and if she absolutely had to, and was frugal, she would live on it in her later years, and might have to. But not yet. For now, she would have the nanny job at the Fergusons’ and a roof over her head.
She had no idea where the future would lead her or what it would look like, but whatever happened, she was determined to survive it.
Belgrave Castle was strangely silent that morning, as though the life and soul had gone out of it. Everyone working there knew that they had entered a very dark time, without their beloved duke and his daughter. And in answer to where she was, Hobson and Mrs. White said nothing except “She’s gone.” And Tristan Latham, the new Duke of Westerfield, said absolutely nothing. Only the servants of Belgrave Castle knew that they were mourning both the father and daughter as they went about their work, wearing their black armbands with heavy hearts and tears in their eyes. Their beloved Lady Angélique was gone, and they knew they would never see her again. Her brother had orchestrated it perfectly.
Chapter 3
Wilfred, the youngest coachman from Belgrave, had driven her on the journey from Hertfordshire to Hampshire, and they drove through St. Albans on the way. They stopped in Slough at a simple tavern and resumed the trip after a meal of sausages and cider. Angélique felt uncomfortable eating alone, while Wilfred ate with the stable boys in the barn. She sat quietly at a table in the corner. It was the first time in her life she had gone anywhere on her own, and she had much to think about. The death of her father, the sudden unexpected loss of her home, the betrayal of her brother, the money her father had given her, and the future that lay ahead of her, working as a nanny for strangers. Her brother had obviously planned that for some time, as a way to get rid of her. She had never expected something like this to happen, or to be cast out into the world without protection. And rather than living in the rarefied upstairs atmosphere of Belgrave Castle as the beloved daughter of a duke, she was now to be part of the downstairs world. She was familiar with it from running her father’s home, but she had never remotely suspected that it would be her own life one day. Everything was going to be very different now. And all she could hope was that the Fergusons were decent people, had a kind staff, and would treat her well.
Angélique had never put on airs, but her breeding and lineage were written all over her. She was every inch a lady of noble birth, in her speech, in her manners, in the way she moved, no matter what simple gown she wore. She had worn a plain black dress for the journey, and had brought the plainest clothes she owned, but all she had were the gowns of a lady, not a nanny. And the severity of her black clothes said that she was in mourning for someone close to her. She had lost not only her father, but her entire world, and she cried more than once on the way to Hampshire. She knew she would have to be brave once she got there, but as long as she was in the simple carriage, she could hang on to the last shreds of all she had known. It had come tumbling down all in a matter of days. It was what Tristan and Elizabeth had wanted to happen to her, and she knew that if her father could have known it, he would have been in despair. And there was no one she could turn to now. She would never contact her brothers again. She had barely seen Edward, but was sure he was aware of the plan. She wondered if they were celebrating at Belgrave. And she knew that the only place where she would be missed would be below stairs, where Hobson and Mrs. White would be mourning her departure, along with Mrs. Williams and the others who had known her all her life. They had lost the duke and his daughter at one swoop, and would have to deal with Tristan and Elizabeth now, who were cold, demanding, mean-spirited people with no heart, who loved to show off, and were always unkind to the servants when they were there.
It was late afternoon and nearly nightfall when they reached Alton in Hampshire. They had been traveling for eleven hours, bumping along in the chaise. It had been a long trip for the horses as well, but they had taken two strong sturdy ones that didn’t need to rest as often as their fine ones. And following the directions Tristan had given Wilfred, they easily found the house. It was a pretty manor house with well-tended grounds on a handsome estate, though by no means on the scale of Belgrave Castle. It was clearly the home of wealthy people, and the house looked relatively new, like the fortune of the man who had built it. Tristan had hinted that Mrs. Ferguson had married her husband for his money, which he lavished on her. She was from an aristocratic family, though her father was only a life peer with no inheritable title, and he had squandered his fortune on bad investments. So Ferguson had married her for her social position, and she for the life he could offer.
The house looked warm and inviting, as a footman came out and directed them to go around the back to the servants’ entrance. Wilfred had assumed that Lady Angélique would be going through the fro
nt door with her bags. He had no idea why she was there, and she didn’t tell him. All he knew was that she would be staying there for some time, and he thought they must be friends and she was taking a holiday to recover from her father’s death. He tried to explain that she was a guest, but the stern-faced footman continued to direct him to the rear entrance of the large house.
“I’m sorry, Your Ladyship,” Wilfred said in an undertone, looking embarrassed. “This clod would have us go in through the servants’ entrance. I can walk you around to the front,” he said as he pulled the chaise to a halt, and a groom held the horses’ heads while he got down.
“This will be fine,” she said just loud enough for him to hear her, and she saw another footman emerge and look them over, and he pointed inside.
“You can go in,” he directed her. “Mrs. Allbright told us to expect you, she’s the housekeeper here. We’ll be eating supper in a few minutes.” He made no attempt to help Wilfred with the bags, and was wearing immaculate livery. He appeared very smart, and told Wilfred to leave her things outside. “She can take them up later,” he said, as Wilfred glanced at Angélique in confusion. She was being treated like a servant, not the lady she was. She smiled gently at him and nodded.
“It’s all right. Someone will help me,” she reassured him, but he was doubtful. They weren’t being pleasant or welcoming, and he wasn’t going to just abandon her there, with this surly, starched young footman treating her like a maid. “I’ll be fine.” She wanted him to leave as quickly as possible, without drawing attention to her.
“You’re sure?” He didn’t want Hobson berating him when he got back, for not doing his duty, and taking care of her properly. But she seemed anxious for him to drive away.
“Yes, I am sure. And thank you for getting me here.” He was planning to stay at a pub nearby that night. Tristan had told him which one. He seemed to know the area well.
The Duchess Page 4
