“Or maybe he prefers to be sung or read to!”
“You should tell us, Your Grace, before he graces us with his presence!”
Cornelia figured she had heard enough. She fluttered her eyelids open and moved unnecessarily around the hall, waiting to be called upon by any of the men and women to attend to their drinks or dish. She ought to have told the duke the truth about the disaster that awaited him in the hall. While many of the female guests were indeed beautiful, none of them had spoken about him as if they really knew him. What they wanted was to be with him…to spend time with him…and perhaps have beautiful children that could become dukes someday.
She hated to admit it, but she was irritated by the lot. If this was how women of their class behaved, she was thankful she wasn’t of a wealthy descent. She could be a debutante without wealth; a woman of value to be introduced to a man she will genuinely care for without considering what or who he was.
It was what Duke Durham wanted. It was also what she thought he deserved.
The voices in the hall suddenly came to a stop, and Cornelia instinctively swept her eyes to the stairs that led into the hall from the master wing of the manor. The duke had a smile on his face, veiling the anxiety she had noticed in his voice before she left his chamber earlier. It had taken every strength that she had to stop herself from staring admiringly at him earlier, and now she was doing it again.
While he had his eyes fixed on the entire hall as he made his way to the middle of the floor, Cornelia stared at his handsome features, admiring his deep blue eyes and the way the color matched his shirt. His shoulders, despite being hidden underneath his suit, appeared broad and intimidating. He easily was the tallest man in the hall, and it was impossible not to notice how every woman, Cornelia too, gawped at him.
A woman stepped out of the crowd to join him before the duke could get to his chair and Cornelia surprisingly felt a jolt of jealousy as the duke smiled happily at her. He pulled her in for a hug and smiled as she whispered a few words into his ear. She pulled him towards his seat before more women could approach him and pointed to a man a bit older than him who sat with several of the debutantes already ogling him.
Cornelia picked up one of the wine jars and quickly stepped towards them to eavesdrop on their discussions.
“Clinton,” Duke Durham greeted. “I had no idea you would grace the Garnett Manor with your presence.”
The other man, the duke of Wilmington, smiled gaily at the women that surrounded him before standing up to shake the duke’s hand. “Well, the letter from Duchess Elizabeth invited the Clinton family. I thought I could get myself down here too, and it seems there are more than enough women to socialize with in Durham. I am forced to say I should visit more often.”
The duke laughed at the remark while the woman beside him slightly rolled her eyes. Cornelia knew her to be Lady Clinton from Wilmington. While the servants often spoke greatly of her, Cornelia had never been opportune to speak with her or tend to her needs. She came visiting the manor once or twice in the month and spent most of her time in the duke’s office. Cornelia wasn’t sure why she was suddenly staring at the woman with a frown on her face.
“Are you going to surround yourself with some of these women too, Durham, or is my sister the only beauty that has caught your fancy? She will make a beautiful bride–or so I have been told by the many suitors she has turned down because of you…”
“Brother!”
Duke Clinton paused, having realized that he might have recounted an incident Lady Clinton had intended to keep from the duke. “Uh, Lydia. It is a party and men are allowed to play with words and joke around, even about serious matters,” he said helplessly. “And Durham here understands that I only tease, don’t you, Durham?”
Cornelia watched as the duke gulped and then nodded, obviously feeling uncomfortable with the situation. Regardless of her brother’s excuse, though, Lady Clinton didn’t seem pleased with his attitude. She shook her head at him and stared slowly around them, aware of everyone’s peering eyes.
Just before things became more awkward between them, Duchess Elizabeth stepped towards them with three other women trailing behind her.
“Come, Duke Durham,” she grinned, leading her son away. “You should meet the three daughters of Viscount Arnold Balfour. They traveled a long journey just to honor your invitation.”
“Hey, maid! Get me some more wine!” Duke Clinton barked at the same time, getting Cornelia to lose her concentration on the duke.
She stole one last glance at him as more women began to step towards him before getting back to her role in the manor.
There was always something to remind her everything was still going to be the same in the manor. She was a maid and would be nothing more.
Chapter 5
Secrets from the Manor
Durham had lost count of the wine glasses he had emptied in the past hour. He was surrounded by strange faces–all women from various parts of neighboring duchies–and for unknown reasons; he wasn’t compelled by them. With the beaming smiles on the debutantes’ faces and with the way they looked at him, he was irritated yet he was fascinated. He wanted to be somewhere else, to be alone in his room at least and think about the colliery or about Cornelia.
He had last seen her tending to Clinton, and he had grunted under his breath after seeing the contempt with which he stared at her. It wasn’t the first time he had seen that in with the ton, but it felt different for him because it was Cornelia. If there was anyone allowed to disrespect her or order her around as they wished, it should be him. She was a maid in his manor, and she belonged to him.
Belonged to me? He was getting drunk; it was apparent. But regardless of knowing this, he needed more wine. It was the only thing that could help him relieve the irritation and anger that he felt towards the throng of women that surrounded him. The look of scorn his mother threw at him from the end of the hall didn’t make anything better either.
“Your Grace, do you like my dress?” one of the debutantes was asking him now. “It was made here in Durham. Father said no one makes better silk than the clothiers in Durham.”
He nodded absentmindedly in response while searching across the room for Cornelia. First, he needed more wine, and he wanted something to remind him of what it really felt to be naturally attracted to someone.
“The band is set to play now, Your Grace. Would you like to dance with me?”
He paused. He knew that voice. He finally stopped staring helplessly at the crowd in the hall and found Lydia standing a few feet from him with a cute smile on her face. He was still quite confused as to her reaction to her brother’s statement over an hour ago, but it was better to spend time with her than with the vain debutantes that surrounded him. “Sure, Lady Clinton,” he smiled at her, struggling to his feet and holding her hand.
He struggled to walk steadily beside her while the women he left behind hissed with contempt. They probably considered him anti-social already, but he hardly cared about them or their judgments.
“You okay?” Lydia asked as they stepped into the middle of the hall. Slow, soft music echoed around them, and Lydia closed the distance between them, dancing with him. “I could see you weren’t comfortable with the women.”
He cleared his throat and held her waist just to move along with her. “To be candid, I wasn’t,” he groaned.
Lydia clasped her palm against her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. She quickly placed the same hand on his shoulder a second later though, still moving to the rhythm of the music.
“I got you out from the lion’s den then,” she whispered.
He nodded, feeling a bit lightheaded with the way they both swayed around to the music. How many cups had he emptied?
“You don’t look too well,” Lydia said, staring with concern at him.
He blinked twice and slowly shook his head, trying to ward off the wine from having a full effect on him. “I—I think I may retire soon.”
&n
bsp; “And retire you should. I may do that early too. The dinner party is unlike what I had expected.”
He paused as she stepped away from him, twirled around and then sauntered back into his arms in tune with the music. It turned out there had been more men and women who had begun to dance around them, and he had been oblivious to it. A small crowd had gathered around them too, half of them women who watched jealously as he danced with the Lady Clinton from Wilmington.
“What did you expect?” he asked Lydia.
A sad smiled dotted her face as she stared into his eyes. “You really don’t see it, do you?” she asked.
“See what?” he questioned, even though he had a vague idea what she was talking about.
She shook her head at him and moved to the left with him as the band softened their music to a slower pace.
“I hope this isn’t about what your brother said?” he asked Lydia when she still wouldn’t say a word.
“And what did he say, Duke Durham?” Lydia rolled her eyes at him.
He ought to have kept the issue where it was–between her and Clinton, but he couldn’t continue to be close to her without getting to the root of what her desires might be for him. It had taken long enough.
“Did you really turn down suitors because of me, Lydia?” he asked without mincing words and Lydia seemed to respond with equal bluntness. “Yes,” she said. “I have done that for the past two years now.”
“Two years? But you never told me anything…not even about suitors coming to you, or about your interest in me.”
Lydia threw him a disbelieving look and heaved a heavy sigh. “Look around you, Your Grace,” she muttered sarcastically. “We live in a society with debutantes–women who need to be introduced to society before they socialize …before they find suitors of their own. While we may want men we desire, they have to want us too. I was waiting for you, David, and it has taken too long.”
The music suddenly stopped, and with it, Lydia halted to a stop. Her eyes stared sadly into his for a few seconds, then she heaved another sigh and stepped away from him, curtseying with a short bow. He couldn’t hide the confusion his face as he watched her step in between the crowd, lost from him.
There was a loud clap from everyone as he made his way back into his seat, craving more wine.
***
Duchess Elizabeth established the attention of everyone was occupied by Durham and Lady Clinton in the middle of the hall before she quietly made her way up the stairs to her room.
While the dinner party was about her son finding a suitable bride, she had affairs of her own to attend to. If she had calculated right, her guest ought to have slipped unnoticed past every guest half an hour ago, making his way to her room. Once she was done with him, he was going to slip out the same way, disappearing into the darkness of the night.
She hated that she had to always meet him secretly, but he had left her no choice. No one was to know of his existence, nor was she ever to be seen with him.
She bit her lips anxiously as neared the door to her room. It was slightly ajar, confirming that he was waiting for her. Glancing down the hallway just to make sure no one had followed her, Duchess Elizabeth sauntered into her room and clasped the door behind her.
“I almost came to the hall, looking for you,” her visitor whispered. He was standing with his back to her and was staring at the garden behind the house.
“And what if he sees you?” she muttered under her breath at him.
He turned and grimaced at her. “The duke? I think you spoil him too much to think nothing can touch him or his title?”
She paused in her step. She had never heard him speak with so much contempt about David before. The duke of Durham had always been in their discussions, at least for the past two years that they had met in secret. “Perhaps it was a mistake allowing you to come here,” she said under her breath, stepping towards him.
He shook his head. “It was the right thing, coming here,” he countered. “I feel I see everything clearly now.”
“And what might that be?” she asked him, finally stepping close enough to place her hands on his cheeks. He looked leaner than the last time that she saw him and his eyes were bloodshot red as if he hadn’t had much sleep.
“Everything,” he grunted under his breath. “I miss having everything.”
She nodded, understanding his plight. “You once had everything. Edward,” she told him. “You lost it with your waywardness.”
Perhaps she ought to have been less blunt with him. Anger burned in his eyes at her now, and he slapped her hands away from his cheeks. “You think him better than me?” he hissed.
She blinked at him, choosing to only answer his question by shaking her head. That, however, made him more infuriated. He began to pace the room, muttering inaudibly under his breath.
She heaved a sigh before stepping towards him. “The coal,” she placed her hand on his back, “there would be more than enough for you to buy a castle offshore and have a family of your own.”
“Why buy a castle when I could be right here?” he paused to growl at her.
She shook her head at him. “We have been through this prior today, Edward. You are better off without him knowing about you...without the duchy knowing about you.”
“But we could be together,” he argued. “I want what he has…I want…”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her chest. He had been drinking, and the strong stench of alcohol swept through her lungs as he placed his head on her shoulder. He was hurting. And she always wanted him close so she could give him comfort.
As he sobbed in her arms, she guided him onto the bed and placed his head on her lap.
“Rest now, Edward,” she whispered. “We may just hatch the other plan of giving you a life better than his.”
***
Cornelia tried to go about her duties without stopping to watch him, but every time, she found her way back to him. Martha threw her reproachful stares often, but she ignored them, sometimes tending to the other men and women in the hall just to get her off her back.
Perhaps she was helplessly drawn to the duke after all, and she couldn’t help but care about him. Every second, more and more women surrounded him with their fake smiles and compliments, and she could tell he was unhappy with them. He drank as much wine as the other maids could serve him and even drew a whole jar to himself to calm his wits.
She hated that she couldn’t provide the comfort that he might need. So, when Lady Clinton pulled him out of his seat to dance with him, she felt a pang of jealousy again–the subtle kind that made her wish she had everything to become so close to Duke Durham. If she had half of what the debutantes in the hall had, she could present herself to him as a humble maid, willing to offer love and peace of mind.
“Cornelia?”
Cornelia hadn’t realized she had kept to a corner of the hall to think of a possible relationship with the duke until Martha approached her with a puzzled look, muttering her name.
“What—what has happened?” she stuttered, staring curiously at the woman. It didn’t seem like she had approached her to talk about serving the guests. “Is it about Father?” Cornelia also asked, lowering her voice.
“Aye,” Martha responded with an equally low tone. “Lent, the old woman by the barn–remember her? She has a younger daughter working as a maid here in the manor.”
“Yes, yes,” Cornelia responded hurriedly. “Everyone knows the old woman that handles the storage at the barn for the duke.”
“She seems to have an idea of what might have happened to Thomas,” Martha muttered the missing barn boy’s name while staring cautiously around them. A few maids hurriedly walked by them, getting dirty dishes out of the hall.
“What—what did you find from Lent?” Cornelia asked, stepping towards Martha with a quieter voice.
Martha held her hand and pulled her deeper into the corner. “I do not know if it means anything, child, but Lent swore Tho
mas attended to the dowager duchess more than usual in recent times. She met with him twice, and each time, he returned more confused than ever.”
“Maybe she chided or called him worthless. She does that to everyone beneath her. It makes me feel horrible to be human sometimes too.”
“I thought so too,” Martha shook her head, “but something isn’t right. Lent and I have been here long enough to know the dowager duchess hates to be near the barn, even when the late duke was alive. She often could eat whatever was given to her but cared little about where it was from.”
“So, what are you saying, Martha?”
“You said Thomas was questioned, along with Andrew and they both said Kolb instructed them to spread rumors about the duke’s legitimacy. Maybe it was the dowager duchess’ plan…she made them do it and got them out of the way after the deed was done. Lent doesn’t know where Thomas was–she seems to think he has stolen some coins and has found his way out of the territory.”
Cornelia couldn’t believe her ears. For a second, the memory of the dowager duchess convincing the duke to hang her father flashed through her head. “But it is preposterous,” she whispered more to herself than to Martha. “She wouldn’t do that just to get Father out of the way, would she? What’s the motive?”
Martha shrugged in response and inched close to hold her hand. “It may just be speculation, child,” she said. “But be careful around her. I have begun some inquiries about little Andrew at the stables too. I will let you know once I catch wind of any news.”
With that, Martha tapped her hand and skidded away from her. She had come bearing news that confused her instead of make anything clearer. If the dowager duchess had anything to do with her father's imprisonment, then there was no determining what secrets she might find, or the danger she and Martha could be in.
What if this wasn’t just about her father but about the duke too?
Cornelia gasped at the thought and stepped out of the corner of the hall, instinctively searching through the crowd for the duke. Of course, she couldn’t tell him anything without having enough information or fully understanding what had happened. She just cared a little about him to wonder if everything was okay with him.
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