The Reluctant Duchess

by Winchester, Catherine

  “You sound like my mother, who delegates such tasks to the staff. I see no reason why you shouldn’t too.”

  “And then what am I to do with my days? Call on other ladies? Spend hours making sure that my wardrobe is up to date?”

  “Anna, you seem to be under the impression that I want to change you. I fell in love with who you are, your strong, independent spirit. I won’t try to change who you are.”

  She raised her head from his chest and looked into his eyes. “You love me?”

  He had been careful not to make such a declaration lest he scare her off, but it had just slipped out.

  “I do,” he admitted, even although he dreaded her reaction. “With every fibre of my being.”

  She smiled slightly. “I love you too.”

  Their talk had been interrupted by another bout of lovemaking but when they were once again sated, he brought the conversation back to her fears.

  “So, I promise not to try and quash your spirit and turn you into a perfect Society wife. What else scares you?”

  “Perhaps you might not want to change me but Society has certain expectations of a duchess.”

  “My dear, such an elevated rank gives you freedom, it doesn’t repress you. You will set the trends for Society, not have them dictated to you.”

  “I can hardly believe that anyone would follow me.”

  He smiled. “Perhaps if you had been out in Society since our weekend at the estate, you would notice that quite a few young ladies are favouring your curls these days.”

  “Really?” she raised her head to look up to him. “Mother was always lamenting my ‘wild hair’.”

  “Your hair is beautiful.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently. “What’s more, I don’t see you as someone who would bend to the expectations of others. Be yourself, darling, and I will always support you.”

  “But if you want to become a politician, you will need a proper wife.”

  “I am not sure that I do want to enter politics,” he admitted.

  “No?”

  “I haven’t decided finally. In fact Jonathan has arranged a meeting for me with the Speaker of the House on Thursday. He arguably has the most unpleasant position in Parliament, having to tell my uncle if the House disagrees with him or overrules him, so he knows all the potential pitfalls.”

  “Aren’t we meeting on Thursday?”

  “We are,” he assured her. “The meeting is late afternoon, so I shall be done in plenty of time to see you.”

  Annabelle smiled and kissed him.

  “So what else frightens you?” he asked.

  Annabelle hesitated for a while, unwilling to hurt him.

  “Please tell me,” he said. “I promise that I won’t be upset.”

  She rested her head on his chest as this was easier to admit if she didn’t have to look at him.

  “My autonomy,” she admitted. “And it isn’t because I don’t trust you not to abuse your power over me, it’s just that it’s a very big step to take and the thought of it is very daunting.”

  He tightened the arm that was around her and kissed the top of her head. “I can understand that.”

  She risked a peek at him. “You aren’t upset with me?”

  “No,” he smiled warmly. “I can understand why it frightens you.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes. I have been trying to think of an equivalent for men but I can’t. But were I suddenly to be denied the right to do as I please with my property, the right to sign a legal contract, even the right to be considered a person under the law, I wouldn’t find that a very easy adjustment either. It would be like becoming a child again. Even although my father never put many restrictions on me, I don’t think it would be easy to go back to that state.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled.

  “Just promise me that there is a chance that, one day, you might want to marry me, despite the limitations it would place on you.”

  “There is a very good chance,” she admitted. “Just not yet.”

  “I can live with that,” he assured her. “Besides, my own future is rather undecided at the moment. If we marry now, we will both be without a career, so it cannot hurt either of us to wait.”

  Now that she was waiting with eager anticipation for her meeting with him that night, she thought that waiting might indeed do much harm to her usually calm nature. He had come into the shop to share lunch with her, as he usually did (so no one would suspect that the nature of their relationship had changed) but they weren’t able to vent much of their passion at those meetings.

  At a half past past seven, it was noted that there was a fair amount of traffic heading long Whitehall but Annabelle thought little of it. Almost fifteen minutes later a gentleman ran in, looking for a friend who he thought might be there and indeed his friend was there, tucking into his dinner.

  “Westminster Palace is on fire!” the first friend announced.

  Chapter Twelve

  Although the coffee house wasn’t very busy by that that time of night, all the patrons cleared out within a minute, hastily leaving coins on the table to cover their bills. Only the staff and the detective who was assigned to protect Annabelle remained.

  Annabelle was frozen with shock. Richard was there, in the Speaker’s House. A cold dread settled in the pit of her stomach but she soon shook it off.

  “I have to go,” she announced, heading for the door.

  “Ma’am?” Minnie asked, thoroughly confused by her behaviour.

  Luckily the detective, Sampson, didn’t have the same reservations as her staff and he caught her about the waist. By now she had informed all the staff that the strange men who had been watching the coffee house, were actually detectives working for Richard.

  “Hold up there, lass, where’s the fire?”

  Annabelle stared blankly at him for a moment, thinking the answer was obvious, until she realised that he was actually asking ‘what’s the rush’.

  “Richard! He’s there, meeting the Speaker of the House.”

  Sampson wasn’t stupid and had realised how close the relationship between Annabelle and Richard was. He nodded once, released her and together they ran towards the Palace.

  By the time they got there, they could see that London Fire Engine Establishment had set up and were aiming their hoses at Westminster Hall, rather than the fire. Each wagon had already been attached to the water pipes, so they must have been there for some time to have obtained permission from the water companies. On each wagon, pairs of men operated the pump in a see-saw motion, which sent the high pressure water down the hoses. It was hard, laborious work and most could only manage five minute bursts. As such, men were queued a dozen deep to take their turn and help the firemen and in return, they received a beer voucher.

  Most of the people there though, were just there to look and the crowds were so deep in the New Palace Yard, that Annabelle couldn’t see through them.

  They made their way around to the Old Palace Yard, where she could clearly see the fire as it raged through St Stephens Chapel and the House of Lords but she didn’t care about watching the spectacle. The roof of the House of Lords had already collapsed and flames rose high into the London sky.

  “We have to get closer!” Annabelle yelled. The noise from the fire and the crowd was making it hard to be heard without shouting.

  Sampson looked around, using his height to find the best way through, then he grabbed her hand and began to make his way through the crowd, carving a path for her to follow in his wake.

  Westminster Palace was a large place but, having been added to and improved upon over many centuries, it was now a mess of different types of buildings, which only added to Annabelle’s confusion; she had no idea which of these buildings might be the Speaker’s House; none of them looked like a house to her.

  She saw a man standing near the front of the crowd who was well-dressed and seemed well-to-do. She tugged on Sampson’s hand, stopping him.

  “Do you k
now where the Speakers House is?” she yelled at the well-dressed man. The acrid air stung her lungs but she ignored the discomfort.

  “Diagonally opposite, behind the chapel,” he said and Annabelle moved to try and run around the burning chamber but the man grabbed her arm. “It’s too late, Miss, the house is already well aflame.”

  Panic flooded her features and he seemed to realise that she was searching for someone.

  “I understand that the buildings were all evacuated in time,” he tried to reassure her but she didn’t seem to have heard, so he repeated himself, speaking louder.

  She looked relieved for a second.

  “Have you seen Richard Armstrong, the Duke of Hampshire?”

  He shook his head rather than try to shout again. She smiled her thanks in reply and coughed, already feeling the effects of the smoke in her lungs.

  All around her was chaos, which didn’t help to calm her panicked mind. She didn’t know what to do and how to best find Richard.

  “This way!” the detective called, dragging her after him as he headed back to the New Palace Yard. Here the firemen were still drenching Westminster Hall in the hope of saving it. The noise was a little less here. Sampson looked around, then seemingly spotted someone and made his way over.

  From the uniform and distinctive leather helmet, she knew he was a fireman. He seemed to have just finished a turn at the pump and was clearly exhausted, drinking down a pint of ale as though he hadn’t had a drink in days.

  “Do you know where the injured are?” Sampson asked.

  The fireman nodded but seemed unable to stop drinking. When he had finally finished, he panted for a few moments, then finally began to speak haltingly.

  “Over the road… in the Abbey.”

  “Thank you.”

  They had to push their way back through the ever-growing crowd, which slowed their progress but they finally made it to Westminster Abbey and headed inside. Chaos seemed to reign in here as much as outside so rather than ask one of the frantic doctors or nurses, they began walking around, looking at each person. At least the noise of the fire and crowd was muffled in here.

  Some of the men had burns and were clearly in a lot of pain, but just as many were so soot blackened that it was impossible to tell what their injuries were. She looked closely at each face and had just decided that Richard probably wasn’t here, when her gaze fell on a pair of familiar brown eyes. His face was streaked with soot and sweat as he sat against the wall of the Henry VII Chapel, and his breathing was shallow and quick.

  Annabelle knelt down beside him and took his hand, caring naught for the irreparable stains he might leave on her dress.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  He opened his mouth to try and answer but only hacking coughs emerged. When they finally passed, he was gasping for breath again.

  “Try not to disturb him,” said a nurse, who had come over because of his coughing fit.

  “What's wrong with him?” Annabelle asked.

  “He was there when the roof collapsed; he breathed in a lot of smoke.”

  “Will he be all right?” she felt him squeeze her hand and looked back to him.

  “With rest hopefully. We’re waiting on laudanum at the moment, which will help stop his cough and let him rest.”

  “Can I take him home? I’m sure I can find him some laudanum.”

  The nurse looked hesitant.

  “He doesn’t live far.”

  The nurse didn’t answer.

  “He’s the Duke of Hampshire,” she added, hoping that might sway her.

  “I don’t care if he’s the Queen of Sheba, unless he has adequate care at home.”

  “Oh, he has ample staff, and I’ll take care of him and make sure that Dr Medway checks on him regularly.”

  “Are you family?” the nurse asked.

  “I’m him wife,” she answered automatically. She didn’t think that this woman would believe her since she looked nothing like a Duchess but what she hadn’t yet realised, was that her own face and clothes were badly stained, making it difficult for anyone to tell if she were a princess or a pauper.

  The nurse looked to Sampson and he nodded his agreement that she was indeed his wife.

  “Very well, but he is not to walk any further than absolutely necessary. Get a horse or carriage to take him home if you can, or carry him yourselves if you must.”

  Annabelle nodded and between them, she and Sampson got Richard to his feet and they slowly made their way out of the chapel, Richard’s arms around their shoulders. Once they were outside, they rested him on the ground, his back to the wall and Sampson ordered them to stay put until he got back.

  Annabelle got to her knees beside Richard and coughed a little herself.

  “I was so worried,” she told him.

  He opened his mouth but remembering his coughing fit, she stopped him.

  “Don’t try to talk yet. Wait until we get you home and comfortable.”

  He nodded his understanding.

  She didn’t know how else to reassure him, so she just kept hold of his hand, kissing it at random intervals and when he turned to watch the flames, she sat down beside him.

  It took about fifteen minutes but Sampson eventually reappeared, leading an unsaddled bay pony by a head collar.

  “Where did you find a horse?” Annabelle asked.

  Sampson just shrugged so Annabelle didn’t ask again. Between them, they got Richard to his feet and onto the pony, although it caused two further coughing fits.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t move him,” Annabelle said to Sampson, seeking his opinion. It wasn’t needed though.

  “Home!” Richard managed to croak, which decided them.

  Sampson led the pony whilst Annabelle walked beside Richard, keeping a firm grip of his hand. They walked the mile to his home slowly, in case Richard fell from the horse in his weakened state.

  They were quickly spotted as soon as they entered St James Square and the butler and footman rushed out to meet them.

  “Get a thick blanket to carry him inside, find all the pillows you can to keep him sitting upright in bed and do whatever it takes to find some laudanum.” Her tone brooked no argument and they ran off to do her bidding.

  By the time they got to the front door, Lavinia was waiting for them and there was a thick blanket laid out on the ground with four men to carry it. Through the open door, Annabelle could see maids running about everywhere.

  Whilst the men helped Richard from the horse and onto the blanket, Annabelle approached Lavinia.

  “He should be fine,” she assured the other woman first. “He breathed in a lot of smoke and has trouble breathing but with rest and laudanum to help ease the cough, he should be all right.”

  Lavinia reached out and took her hand. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  Annabelle smiled and squeezed her hand. She didn’t feel like she’d had much of a choice except to look for him, but she appreciated the sentiment.

  The men began to carry Richard inside but Annabelle hesitated on the step, unwilling to enter without an invitation, although she had absolutely no desire to leave. Lavinia didn’t give her much choice though, as she put a hand around her shoulders and guided her inside. A maid ran upstairs with a pail of steaming water.

  “Daisy,” Lavinia called, causing the girl with the pail to turn to her. “When you have filled the tub, find someone to run to Lady Wyatt’s house and tell them she is staying here for a few days, then have a fire lit in the room next to Richard’s.”

  Daisy nodded and hurried up the stairs.

  Annabelle looked down at herself for the first time and saw just how filthy she was. Her dress was streaked with soot, mud and various other stains and her hands were as filthy as a coal miner’s. She immediately pulled away from Lavinia when she saw that she had already stained her lovely gown.

  “Hush child,” Lavinia anticipated her protest. “Now let’s go and see Richard.”

  They arrived
just as Richard’s blanket was being placed on the bed, so that he was sitting on the edge, the blanket protecting the rugs and bed from his dirty clothes. Another hacking coughing fit overtook him.

  Annabelle saw that a copper bathtub full of hot water had been placed before the fire. Seconds later another maid ran in with a bottle of laudanum and a small tea spoon. Lavinia took it from her and approached Richard.

  “I know how you dislike this so we will start with one small teaspoon, but I will give you more if you are an obstinate patient.”

  Richard nodded and allowed himself to be spoon fed the medicine.

  “Good, now Porter and Jones will help you wash and change. Can you stand?

  He nodded.

  “Good. We’ll be back shortly.” Lavinia pressed a tender kiss to his cheek, then led Annabelle from the room and into the next chamber. She rang the bell and asked for a jug of hot water to be brought up, then directed Annabelle to disrobe in the dressing room, whilst she went to find some clothes for her.

  Annabelle stripped to her undergarments, which were also badly stained but as she stood in the dressing room, she heard Richard coughing and noticed a door at the other end of the room. Pressing her ear against it, she realised that it must lead to his room. Carefully, she turned the door knob but it was locked. She quickly backed away as she heard someone come into her room with a basin, a jug of hot water, a towel and soap.

  She thanked the maid and took the items into the dressing room, where she finished disrobing and began to wash herself thoroughly. She began to cough but did her best to stop, as someone else came into the room and she found herself horrified at the thought of being discovered naked.

  “I’ll leave some night clothes and a robe on your bed,” she heard Lavinia say. “Wait for me outside Richard’s room when you have finished changing.

  “All right. Thank you, Lavinia”

  She heard the bedroom door close, and allowed herself the luxury of coughing for a few moments. Then another knock came.

  “Yes?” she called, poking just her head around the dressing room door.