The Duchess

by Danielle Steel

  As she watched Wilfred get back on the seat of the carriage, turn it around, and roll in the direction from which they’d come, she felt the last evidence of Belgrave being torn from her, and she could feel a sob rising in her throat, which she used every bit of strength she had to control. It began snowing as she watched him, and an instant later, she followed the footman inside to a busy servants’ hall teeming with people. The house was much smaller, but the staff appeared to be almost as big as the one she had grown up with. And their liveries all looked brand new and were fancier than the ones she was used to. They seemed almost French, and several of the footmen were wearing powdered wigs, which they never did at home, except when royalty visited. Angélique’s eyes were wide as she took it all in. And a tall angular woman with gray hair approached her. She had the face of a large bird and looked like a prison warden, with her ring of keys jangling from her waist, which indicated her position.

  “I’m Mrs. Allbright, the housekeeper,” she introduced herself without a smile. “And you must be the new nanny, Angela Latham?”

  “Angélique,” she corrected her softly. She was terrified of the woman, but determined not to show it.

  “Sounds foreign,” she said disapprovingly.

  “It’s French,” Angélique confirmed.

  “Mrs. Ferguson will like that,” she said through pursed lips, but she didn’t look as if she approved. “We’re sitting down to supper now. One of the maids will show you to your room later. It’ll just be for tonight. Your room will be in the nursery with the children, but the present nanny isn’t leaving until tomorrow. You can move into her room then. I hear you have a lot of bags,” she said, frowning. “I don’t know why you’d bring them here. You’ll be wearing the dress Mrs. Ferguson has all the nannies wear. It’s quite plain. You’ll only be wearing your own clothes on your half-day off once a month, if the children aren’t sick.” There was no point trying to explain to this severe-looking woman why she had brought three bags and a small trunk. It was all she had left in the world. She had brought a few of her father’s things, some of the books they had read together, and as many small personal mementoes as she could. And the locked trunk held her jewelry and money. She’d make room for all of it as best she could, no matter how tiny the room, and she suspected it wouldn’t be large.

  The servants’ dining hall was clean and spacious, and the cook looked efficient and busy with three kitchen maids to help her. Angélique counted twenty indoor staff around the table. Someone pointed to an empty chair, and she sat down, watching them quietly as supper was served. The food was plentiful and everyone dug in. They looked busy, hungry, and rushed.

  “They’re having a house party this weekend. It’s been quite mad. They went shooting today. They’re having a big party tonight, with friends from the neighborhood invited. They entertain a lot, especially in London. But you won’t be going there often. They usually leave the children here when they go to town,” the maid sitting next to her explained. “I’m Sarah, by the way. I’m one of the upstairs maids. Watch out for Mrs. Allbright. She’s a terror, and she’ll sack you faster than you can wink,” she warned her in a whisper.

  “Was the nanny that’s here now sacked?” Angélique asked, looking worried.

  “No, she’s going back to Ireland. And happy to leave here. The children are wild.” Angélique nodded and introduced herself, and Sarah smiled and then introduced her to the others. The head butler, Mr. Gilhooley, presided over the head of the table, there was an underbutler too, next to him, and Mrs. Allbright sat at the other end of the table, observing the maids and house staff like the headmistress in a school. The atmosphere around the table was congenial although they had no time to linger over their food, and Angélique was too tense to eat. “Where was your last job?” Sarah asked her as they left the table, and Mrs. Ferguson’s lady’s maid flirted coyly with the underbutler, until Mr. Gilhooley intervened and made a disparaging comment. He and Mrs. Allbright appeared to be thick as thieves, and kept them all on a short leash. They ran a tight ship.

  Angélique wondered for a moment what she should say to Sarah in response to the question about her last job, and decided on a modified version of the truth.

  “I didn’t have one. This is my first position,” Angélique said shyly, and Sarah smiled.

  “How old are you?”

  “Eighteen,” she admitted, and without her hair done up nicely, in the plain black dress, she looked even younger.

  “That’s sweet. I’m twenty-six,” Sarah said ruefully, and then lowered her voice conspiratorially. “I’ve been doing this for ten years. One of the grooms and I have been walking out together. We’re getting married when we have enough saved up. Maybe soon.” She looked hopeful as she said it, and Angélique was touched. She suddenly got a glimpse of how difficult things were for some of them. Money was short, jobs were hard, and marriage and babies were not a given, but had to be earned and saved for, sometimes for years.

  “You’ll meet Nanny Ferguson tomorrow morning,” Mrs. Allbright said to her as they left the dining hall, and the footmen and both butlers prepared to go upstairs to serve the party. As was customary, the nannies and ladies’ maids were addressed by the surname of the family they worked for, not their own.

  The maids were going to tend to the rooms after the guests and family dressed. A whole flock of them headed for the back stairs. “Please be down for breakfast at six,” she said to Angélique, sounding like a schoolteacher again. “Sarah will show you to the room you’ll use tonight, Nanny Latham.” Angélique knew that when she assumed her duties the next morning, she would become Nanny Ferguson too, until the day she left. She quietly followed Sarah up several flights of stairs.

  “He’s all right,” Sarah filled her in about the Fergusons in a whisper. “He’s got a bit of a roving eye, but he’s not too bad. In my last job, I had to lock my door to keep his lordship out every night. Watch out for her brother, though. He’s a devil, but a handsome one, if you fancy a bit of that. But if you do, watch out for Mrs. Allbright. If she catches you, you’ll be out on your ear without a character.”

  “No, no, I’d never do that,” Angélique said, looking horrified. She didn’t say that she had a brother like that too. “What’s she like?” she asked, referring to their mistress.

  “Very spoiled. He gives her whatever she wants. She’s got some beautiful clothes and jewels. I don’t know why she has children, though—she never sees them. You’re meant to bring them down on Sunday for tea, but she usually finds some reason why she can’t. She says they’re always sick, and she’s afraid of influenza. What about your parents? Where are they?” Sarah asked, curious about her, and Angélique caught her breath before she answered.

  “I…my father just died…my mother died when I was born…I’m an orphan now.” It pained her to say it, but it was true.

  “Sorry to hear it,” Sarah said sincerely, as they reached the room she’d be using for the night until she moved to the nursery. The room was tiny and spare with only a cot and a small dresser in it. There was a basin to wash in, and rough sheets, a blanket, and a single towel on the bed. The house might be new and modern, but the servants’ quarters were not. The room was half the size of the smallest servants’ room at Belgrave. Mrs. Ferguson had no interest in the comfort of her staff.

  “The nanny’s room in the nursery is a bit bigger,” Sarah reassured her, “but not much. The children share rooms, but there’s a nice nursery parlor you can sit in at night—if they go to sleep, that is. Bridget says the baby is up half the night, yowling with his teeth. She’s not sorry to leave.” Angélique nodded, wondering how she’d manage them. She knew nothing of caring for children. She had never been around any for all of her life, except for a few minutes when she visited the tenants’ farms, but the children were kept away from her, so as not to disturb her ladyship, or soil her dress. This was going to be a whole new experience and a challenge. She had no idea what to expect. All she knew was that she would b
e caring for four young children, who according to Sarah were sadly misbehaved.

  Angélique went back down to the servants’ hall after Sarah showed her the room where she’d be staying, and brought her bags up the stairs. It took her three trips, and no one offered to help her. All she had the energy to do after that was wash in the basin in her room, after bringing in a pitcher of water, and go to bed. And she lay there for hours after that, wondering what the next day would bring. She just prayed that she’d be brave enough and strong enough to do her job, and would make a good impression on her employer. In her entire life, she had never expected to become a servant. She tried not to think about it as she drifted off to sleep. She woke with a start several times that night, afraid she’d oversleep in the morning. And she finally got up at five, washed and dressed and did her hair neatly in the freezing room, and was in the dining hall promptly at six, as the housekeeper had told her to do.

  One of the kitchen maids made her a cup of tea, and before she could eat breakfast, one of the housemaids came in and told her she was expected in the nursery, and to follow her upstairs. They went up the servants’ stairs to the third floor, and emerged just outside the nursery, where Angélique could hear a baby crying. The maid pointed to a heavy wooden door, as Angélique looked down a long, carpeted hall, with doors to several other servants’ bedrooms. Mrs. Allbright’s room was on that floor, as well as Mrs. Ferguson’s lady’s maid, the cook, and the senior housemaids. The nursery, a small sitting room, and bedrooms occupied most of the floor, and there was an elegant stairway that led down to the second floor, which the servants were not allowed to use, only the family if they chose to come upstairs.

  Angélique knocked on the nursery door, and no one could hear her over the crying baby. She knocked again several times, and finally opened the door, and found herself looking at a freckled redheaded girl who was comforting the baby, while two other children were gathered around her, trying to get her attention, and a toddler was standing on a table, throwing toys. It looked like pandemonium, and for an instant Angélique was tempted to run. She was thinking that there must be some other job she could do that would be easier than this one.

  “Hello, I’m Angélique!” she shouted over the din, as the baby screamed and pulled at his ears, and the pretty redhead in the simple nurse’s uniform turned toward her.

  “You’re the new nanny?” she asked, looking hopeful.

  “I am. What can I do to help?”

  “Get Rupert off the table.” She smiled gratefully, pointing to the two-year-old, then put the baby down in his crib, and the volume of his screaming intensified as she did. She walked toward Angélique, as she lifted Rupert in his nightshirt off the table. The moment she set him down, he ran unsteadily across the nursery, away from them, looking like a drunk, as both women laughed. The other two children had grown quiet and were looking up at Angélique. Simon looked to be about four years old, and Emma was three years old, with a head full of blond ringlets. Charles, the baby, was six months old.

  “Welcome to the asylum,” she said, laughing, as Angélique smiled and tried not to show how nervous she was. “Sarah came up to see me last night. She said this is your first job. You’re a brave one—they only had two children when I came here. I never thought they’d have two more.” She had a thick Irish brogue, and a friendly disposition, and she seemed undaunted by the constantly moving, busy children. “I’m the fifth nanny they’ve had. I come from a big family, so it doesn’t bother me as much as some.”

  “I’m sorry you’re leaving,” Angélique said sincerely, sounding more like a lady than a servant than she realized.

  “Don’t be sorry I’m leaving—it got you the job,” she said, and laughed again, and looked at her more closely. “You’re a fancy one, aren’t you?” In her years as a nanny, she had seen other girls whose families had lost their fortunes and had been forced to take jobs in other people’s homes. But they were more like landed gentry, Angélique seemed like a cut above that, although she was friendly and open, and had obviously needed the job. Angélique didn’t respond to her question about how fancy she was. She hoped she didn’t look it. Only her demeanor and manner of speech suggested how well born she was. The girl would never have suspected that she was the daughter of a duke, and Angélique was determined not to tell anyone. It made no difference now, and would only make them resent her, which was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to blend in with the rest of the staff.

  As Bridget poured her a cup of tea, the baby stopped crying, and she smiled. “Merciful God, thank you for that. The poor lad suffers with his teeth. Rupert”—she pointed to the toddler—“was that way too. So what madness brings you here, caring for four children in your first job?”

  “A friend of the Fergusons recommended me. I have to work.” Angélique said nothing of her brother’s treachery or that he had gotten her the job.

  “We all have to work,” Bridget said with a smile. “I’m going home to Dublin to help my sister for a few months, with twins, but after that, I’ll go back to London to find a job. The country is too quiet for me, and the family doesn’t take us to town very often.”

  “I grew up in the country, I like it,” Angélique said as they sat down for a minute and sipped their tea, before Bridget made their breakfast in the nursery pantry. The rest of their meals were sent up from the kitchen on trays.

  “Then you’ll be happy here,” Bridget said confidently, “if you can get the little monsters to behave. There’s Helen, the nurserymaid, but you really need another nanny to help you. Four of them is too much for one person. But Simon will be gone in a year, when he turns five, to Eton. It’s the earliest they’ll take them. She can’t wait to send him. That might help you, if you can hold out for that long, providing she doesn’t have another. You never know with her—it’s Mr. Ferguson who wants them, though he doesn’t come to see them either. And she doesn’t seem to mind—she has them so easily, she drops them like a farmhand in a field.” It was an interesting description of her new employer, who apparently preferred horses and social life to children but had them anyway. Bridget said that as long as she didn’t have to see them or care for them, and had easy pregnancies, it didn’t matter to her, and kept her husband happy and gratefully spoiling her for giving him sons. “You won’t see her often up here. We take them downstairs on Sundays for tea. She puts up with them for about ten minutes, and then she’ll send you away.” It was not the vision Angélique had of motherhood, although it was familiar to her. Her sister-in-law, Elizabeth, hadn’t been interested in her children either, until they were old enough to enter a more adult world. “I think we have a dress for you, if you look in the cupboard, although you’re very small. You can stitch it to fit you. You can have my nurses’ uniforms, but they’ll be too big for you.” She laughed—she had a generous figure, broad hips, and an ample bosom, and she was taller than Angélique. The nanny dress she offered her was gray with a long, starched white apron, which Bridget said she changed three times a day, with a starched cap trimmed with a pleated ruffle, and white cuffs to match. It was less austere than the black dresses worn by the housekeeper and ladies’ maids, and slightly plainer. “I look like a rag bag by the end of the day, after chasing them. The nurserymaid helps me do all their laundry up here.” She went on to explain their schedule to her then. They had naps morning and afternoon. She said they got up early, had dinner at noon, and a heavy teatime at five-thirty, and a bit of fruit before they went to bed. And they liked it when she read them stories. “I’m not much of a reader,” she said honestly, “but I read well enough for them. And when I can’t make something out, I just fake it. They’re too young to know the difference.” Angélique liked the thought of reading to them. She loved to read as a child, and still did, and it was something she knew she could do for them that seemed less complicated than all the rest.

  “When are you leaving?” Angélique asked, still nervous.

  “At dinnertime. I’ll go when the dinner tr
ays come up.”

  “They’ll miss you,” Angélique said sadly, remembering how bereft she had been when her own nanny had left. She had been like a mother to her, and after she went away, Angélique had gotten closer to Mrs. White, the housekeeper, who had always been kind to her.

  “They’ll only miss me for a day or two. They’ll get used to you very quickly. They’re too young to remember me for long. You’ll be meeting Mrs. Ferguson tomorrow, for tea in the library with the children. Helen, the nurserymaid, will show you what they should wear. The Mrs. likes them looking pretty so she can show them off to her friends. And Mr. Ferguson loves Emma’s ringlets. Be sure you brush them till they shine, even if she cries while you do it. There’ll be hell to pay if you take them down with her hair all in knots.”

  She got up to make the children’s breakfast then. They had a little stove to make oatmeal, and she buttered bread with marmalade and jam, and there was a jug of milk sitting on a block of ice. She set breakfast on the table, just as Helen walked in. She looked instantly suspicious of Angélique and was about her age. Like Bridget, she had worked there for two years. She had wanted to be the nanny, but had been told she’d been passed over for someone else the Fergusons had found through friends. So she considered Angélique a major threat, and she didn’t look like she was inclined to help her. She and Bridget were friends, and she was sad that she was leaving. Helen had the same reaction as Bridget at first, and thought that Angélique looked too aristocratic to be hiring out to work in a house, and wondered why she was there.

  “You help her and tell her what she needs to know,” Bridget admonished her. “No funny shenanigans to make her look bad. We all started out somewhere, and she’ll need your help,” Bridget said kindly, and Helen nodded, looking Angélique over again. Angélique was still feeling shy, as the little girl walked over to her, stared at her for a minute, and then climbed onto her lap, holding a doll. Her hair was a mass of soft blond curls.