The Duchess Remembers

by Monroe, Jennifer

“Yes, Your Grace,” Hannah replied with a quick curtsy before leaving Andrew with his guests.

  Lady Honeyfield sat on the edge of the sofa, and once she was seated, Andrew took a seat in a high-back chair and offered the doctor a matching chair opposite. The worry Andrew felt for Lucy was so great that his stomach hurt. However, his anger grew as the doctor stood staring out the window and onto the gardens. If the man wished to stroll through them at a later time, he was more than welcomed to do so; however, for now, Andrew needed answers.

  “What is wrong with my wife?” Andrew demanded. “Has she gone mad?”

  Doctor Cooke turned around. “No, far from it,” he replied, finally taking his seat. “Have you ever heard of amnesia? It refers to the loss of one’s memories and is typically brought on by a sharp blow to the head.”

  Andrew nodded, as did Lady Honeyfield. “I have heard stories about people suffering from such maladies,” Andrew replied, “but I thought it was merely legend, or excuses drunkards use to allow themselves unruly behavior.”

  “I am afraid not,” Doctor Cooke said. “At this point, I believe your wife is suffering from amnesia, but I would like to return to her room and ask her a few more questions.” When Lady Honeyfield went to stand, he added, “Alone, if you please.”

  Lady Honeyfield sighed. “Or course, Doctor. Shall we wait here then?”

  “I believe that is best,” the man replied. “I will return shortly after I have finished my examination.” He rose from his chair and left the room.

  Hannah came in immediately after with a large silver tray which held a silver tea set. “Would you like me to pour,” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “No, I will pour, but thank you, Hannah,” Andrew replied.

  “I cannot believe she is finally awake,” Lady Honeyfield said as she took the teacup Andrew offered her. “I am sure whatever this is, it is only temporary. You should smile; your wife is awake.”

  Andrew sighed heavily. “You are right,” he said, but he could not stop the uneasiness that coursed through him. In his heart, he rejoiced that, after all this time, she had finally awoken. However, as to her current plight, how long would it last?

  And most importantly, did she still care for him?

  ***

  Andrew glanced at the clock on the mantle. It had been nearly an hour since Doctor Cooke had gone to exam Lucy, and Andrew found himself worrying. What was taking so long? Did the doctor know some trick to bring back his wife’s memories?

  The door opened and Doctor Cooke entered, moving straight to the chair he had vacated earlier.

  “Doctor, is my Lucy…?” Lady Honeyfield asked in a trembling voice.

  Doctor Cooke placed his hands on his knees. “Let me share what I now know as fact,” he said. Andrew’s heart thudded in his chest. “It is without a doubt amnesia with which the Duchess suffers.”

  Lady Honeyfield began to sob and Andrew reached into his coat pocket and produced a handkerchief, which he readily proffered to her. She thanked him and dabbed at her eyes as the doctor continued with his diagnosis.

  “Though it was a subject that I did come across in my studies at University, I must admit that little is known concerning a prognosis.”

  Andrew’s heart sank. Was there no hope? “How much does she remember?” he asked. The thought of his wife not recalling her life scared him.

  “From what I have deduced, the Duchess remembers everything up until the engagement party of her friend. When interviewed, she believed the year to be eighteen hundred and nine and that it is currently the month of December first or thereabouts.”

  “Yes, that was when the engagement party took place,” Lady Honeyfield muttered.

  Andrew felt his heart sink as he recalled that evening. It was the next day when he went to her house, having already received her father’s permission to court her. From there, it had taken a year to win her heart. “I do not understand,” Andrew said. “There must be some sort of medicine that you can give her to make her remember.”

  Doctor Cooke shook his head. “I’m afraid not,” he replied sadly. “Unfortunately, there is no remedy, although I will to write to a specialist in London when I return home this evening to see what advice he can give me. If anyone has any insight or new information in this area, he will. For the time being, you must be careful. Her Grace is quite frightened and must not be traumatized any more than she already is. She is still having trouble accepting what I have told her.”

  “Will her memory return?” Andrew asked, though dreading the reply he would receive. “That is, when will she remember the current times? And…our marriage?”

  The doctor gave a deep sigh. “I will not lie to you, Your Grace, nor you, Lady Honeyfield. It might take a week, a month, a year, or it may never happen. There is no promise it will ever return.”

  Lady Honeyfield began to sob even harder as Andrew attempted to understand the situation.

  “Surely there is something we can do to help her? Would telling her stories help? We were wed only two months ago.”

  The doctor set the cup of tea he had been sipping on the table as he nodded his head. “At this point, she refuses to believe she is married to you. And though it pains you, I would advise keeping your distance from her until she is ready to begin speaking with you about what she does not remember. Forcing her into a conversation or even a lifestyle for which she is not ready could cause more damage than good.”

  Andrew groaned, his heart sinking even further. The love of his life was awake, but she despised him. Even worse, he had to stay away from her. How could he do that when he only wished to hold her in his arms again?

  “Does she have a close friend?” Doctor Cooke asked. “This Charlotte of whom she spoke, is there a chance she might be able to come and visit?”

  “I am afraid Charlotte has moved to Kent with her husband,” Lady Honeyfield said. “However, I can send word and ask if she is able to come and visit.”

  “Is there anyone else?”

  Hannah entered the room with a tray and Andrew smiled. “There is Hannah. She became lady’s maid to Lucy, although they had not spent an exorbitant amount of time together since the position is quite new to her. However, Lucy enjoyed talking with her when she came to visit, before we married, and the two got along quite well despite their differences in class.”

  Hannah blushed profusely. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said in a quiet voice. “The Duchess and I did speak at times. And I enjoyed being her lady’s maid for that short time.”

  The doctor eyed Hannah as he rose from his chair. “Well, it is not the most appropriate of situations, but allow her to befriend Her Grace. Warn her, however, of what I have warned you. That is, answer questions she may have, but carry on as normal, as if she were indeed back in December of nineteen hundred and nine. Allow her to explore the property without comment, to ask whatever questions that come to mind, and perhaps with a bit of a luck, her memory will return. As soon as I return to my office, I will compose a letter to London. Whether or not I receive an immediate answer is another matter, but I will return soon to check on her progress regardless.”

  Johnathan escorted the doctor to the front door, and Doctor Cooke turned and added, “My Grace, I wish to speak to you in private.”

  Andrew nodded. “Of course,” he replied. “By all means, please speak freely.”

  “I did not want to upset the Lady Honeyfield any further, but there is something you should know. There is a high chance that Her Grace will not regain her memory at all.”

  Andrew nodded again. “Thank you for informing me,” he said, though he wished the man had not.

  Once the carriage carrying the doctor down the long drive had disappeared from sight, Andrew closed his eyes and took a deep breath. For the past two months, he had prayed that Lucy would wake up once again. Now that she had, he found that his heart ached even more, for she had returned to him, only not as herself but as a previous version of herself. However, when he opened his eyes, he looked up
at the clear sky and smiled when he saw the shining sun, as bright as Lucy’s smile. She had said once that the sun was a reminder of their love.

  Yes, their love was strong, and nothing, not even a lapse in memory, would cause her to forget that for long.

  Chapter Five

  Lady Honeyfield tightened the last stay of the dress Lucy had chosen, which only added to Lucy’s confusion. Why should her mother insist on helping her dress when they had perfectly good servants to aid them? Then her mother said words that made Lucy cringe and then grow angrier.

  “Love him?” Lucy spat as she spun around to face Lady Honeyfield. “Oh, Mother, enough of this!” She raised her hands in the air and stomped away, furious that the woman insisted on continuing this punishment over one simple error in judgment. However, when she glanced behind her and caught her mother’s eyes, she recognized the reality that, for the eighteen years she had known her, her mother had never lied to her. Lucy turned and stared at the woman who had loved her and raised her as terror coursed through her. She had to know the truth.

  “Is it true, then?” she asked, her voice now timid rather than raging. “I am twenty? And…and married? To Lord Balfour?”

  Lady Honeyfield nodded and took Lucy’s hands in hers. As Lucy looked deep into her brown eyes, the eyes which Lucy had inherited and which had always been truthful, she knew what her mother had said was so. “Yes, my dear, it is true,” her mother said. “But worry not, Doctor Cooke said that, in time, you will regain your memory. You have no wifely duties to which you must attend, nor studies to complete. Your only task is to rest and heal. It is what is best for you at the moment.”

  Lucy swallowed hard. If she was married, then that meant she and Lord Balfour…She shook her head. The thought of the rogue pressing his body against hers made her shiver.

  “Are you getting a chill, my dear?” her mother asked. “Would you like a wrap? Do you need something to eat? Or perhaps a drink? A cup of tea?”

  Lucy shook her head. “No, I am well. Thank you.” Her head was swimming and what she needed was to flee to the gardens and be left alone. She walked over to the window and looked down onto the vast gardens below. They were not her gardens but those of a Duke, a man for whom she cared not. It was strange looking out over bright green leaves and red and yellow flowers that ran along the footpath. What she had expected was a drab winter setting with either several shades of browns and grays or even a blanket of white, for it had snowed the previous evening, at least in her memories. Sadness filled her heart, fighting with the anger that had been there. If what her mother said was true, and Lucy no longer doubted that it was, what brought her to the point of choosing to marry Lord Balfour?

  The rustle of her mother’s skirts as she came to stand next to Lucy made Lucy turn. “Did you and father force me to marry…him?” The thought of saying his name aloud made her think of indecent incantations that were said to bring forth demons. Not that she had anything to do with such things, but it was what had come to mind. “How did this marriage come about?”

  Her mother sighed. “His Grace had asked your father’s permission to court you. Of course, you said no at first, though your father readily agreed. You courted for an entire year, and I watched as the two of you fell in love.” Her voice had become slightly dreamy, which Lucy found irritating. “You were married only two months ago.”

  Lucy attempted to bring forth even a shred of memory of any time she had shared with Lord Balfour, outside of the dreaded kiss he had given her, but she could not bring forth even one.

  “And how did I come to be bedridden for these last months?”

  Lady Honeyfield turned and smiled. “I believe that should wait until later,” she replied. “You have had a difficult day as it is.” She took Lucy’s hand. “Come, let us get you something to eat.”

  Lucy nodded and followed her mother obediently into the hallway. As they walked down the unfamiliar passage, she could not help but be impressed with the paintings that hung from the wall. Many of the portraits were family as the subjects of the paintings resembled the current Duke in many ways with their raven hair and blue eyes.

  A door opened and a maid exited, a woman perhaps a year or so older than Lucy, followed by the dreaded Lord himself. His eyes widened as he came to an immediate stop. Lucy smiled. She remembered the rumors about him and the many women he took to his bed; had he continued those trysts while she lay ill in a bed upstairs? She would not put it past him.

  “Your Grace,” Lady Honeyfield said with a nod, “I was going to have something to eat with Lucy, if that is permissible.”

  The Duke nodded. “Please, you have free reign of the house; you are not required to ask my permission. Our home, that is, my home and my servants are at your command.” His eyes fell to Lucy as a smile played on his lips. What was this innocent expression he had on his face, as if he were happy to see her? Or was he attempting to stifle a laugh?

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Honeyfield replied. “I will be returning to Foxglove Estate tomorrow. I have sent a letter before me to inform my husband that she has awoken and will send my daughter Mary a note so she is aware of this good news, as well.”

  “Excellent,” the Duke replied. He then turned to Lucy. “Lucy…that is, Miss Honeyfield, this is Hannah. She is a servant in this house and she will be your lady's maid.”

  The woman dropped into a deep curtsy. She seemed pleasant enough, but Lucy found the idea that she must have someone there to keep an eye on her revolting. Did he expect her to cause some sort of mischief?

  “I do not plan to steal your brandy,” Lucy said as she shot Lord Balfour a glare. “However, I will enjoy the company of another woman while my mother is away. Of course, I will not need her company at all times.”

  “Of course, Miss Honeyfield,” he replied with a nod of his head. “Ladies, if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. However, as I said before, you are welcome to go to the dining room and ask for whatever your heart desires.” He then turned to Hannah, now Lucy’s lady’s maid. “Hannah, please inform Carol that Lady and Miss Honeyfield are ready to eat.”

  Hannah dropped into another curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said.

  Lucy followed her mother through a set of double doors off a grand foyer. She did not take the time to admire what was around her as she sneaked a glance over her shoulder. Expecting to find the doorway now empty, Lucy was surprised to see the Duke leaning against the door frame. Rather than the sneer she would have expected, she saw instead a smile and wondered what dastardly plans the man had in mind for her.

  ***

  Lucy entered the gardens of Chudleigh Hill, an area that was twice, perhaps even thrice the size of Foxglove Estate, her childhood home. Hannah walked by her side, as her mother had excused herself to return to her rooms to lie down and rest, expressing that the events of the day had tired her. Although Lucy had eaten a slice of toasted bread with marmalade, her body continued to feel weak. Her mind was clear, however, and her head no longer ached, which was much more important to her at the moment. Granted, she would be dependent for a while longer on the aid of others, but at least she was thinking clearly. Her new companion had a kind smile, and though she was pretty for a servant girl, Lucy wondered from where her thoughts of this woman and her possible intimacies with Lord Balfour stemmed. However, she could not shake them from her mind.

  As they made their way to the first turn in the footpath, Lucy went to a bench which sat under a large elm tree and sat to rest. Hannah, however, refused to sit; instead, she stood behind the bench with her hands clutched in front of her and her head down.

  “So, Hannah,” Lucy said in a conversational tone so as not to scare the poor girl, “tell me how you came to work for the Duke.”

  Hannah swiped at her dress in a nervous manner but then looked directly at Lucy. “Well, Miss Honeyfield…”

  Lucy cut her off. “Now, we are to be good friends, are we not?” When Hannah nodded, though a bit relucta
ntly, Lucy continued, “Then please call me Lucy.”

  Although Hannah looked a bit taken aback, she finally agreed. “Very well…Lucy.” Her voice shook as she practiced using the Christian name of someone well above her station, but then she smiled shyly and continued. “It’s been a year plus a half when I came under His Grace’s employ as a scullery maid. Then I was moved up to a chamber maid in my second year here, and then…well, here I am.” She shook her head in disbelief.

  Lucy gave a short laugh. “And are you married?”

  Hannah shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no, Miss, Robert, the cobbler’s assistant in town, and I have become quite friendly. You remember him, don’t you?”

  “I believe I do,” she lied. It was easier to simply agree than to admit aloud that she could not remember even visiting Chudleigh Hill, let alone confess she did not know a person she purportedly should recall. However, this Hannah had been in Lord Balfour’s employ during the time Lucy was supposedly courted by, and ultimately married to, the Duke. Perhaps the woman could give her some insight into what she had missed.

  “Hannah, do you remember when the Duke and I courted?”

  “Of course,” she said with a laugh. Her eyes widened and then she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I am so sorry! Please forgive me for laughing.”

  Lucy placed a hand on Hannah’s. “Come, sit beside me,” she insisted, patting the bench next to her. Hannah walked around the bench timidly and sat, looking quite uncomfortable. “Now, will you please tell me what you find so humorous?” She spoke in as kind a tone as she could, and yet Hannah continued looked down at her hands. “Do not be nervous,” Lucy assured her. “No one will be angry, I promise.”

  Hannah gave a deep sigh. “Well, the first time you visited was a week after you and His Grace began courting. His Grace was in one of his moods because it was raining and you…” —she paused and looked up at Lucy— “you tormented him.”

  Lucy laughed. It did sound much like something she might have done. “How did I torment him exactly?”