The Duchess Remembers

by Monroe, Jennifer

  When they reached a small iron gate at the end of the footpath, she looked over a wide-open field of rich green that rose on a small hill.

  “May we walk to the top of that hill, Your Grace?” she asked.

  He took hold of her hand and turned her to him. “We are now married, and though I realize you do not remember our love for each other, it would be an honor if you would address me as Andrew. There is no need for formalities between two people who love each other, even if one does not recall.”

  “Very well,” Lucy replied. “Then you may call me Lucy.”

  He chuckled and then gave her an apologetic smile before offering her his arm. “Shall we?” he asked as he opened the gate.

  She placed her hand on his arm and followed him through the gate. Rogue or not, she had to admit he acted the gentleman quite well. And why should he not? He was a Duke after all. Had he not had years of training on how to comport himself in all areas of his life?

  The grass in the field came up to her knees and she felt herself relax under the blue sky and open air.

  “Are you pleased your parents are coming to visit?” Andrew asked as they continued their walk up the hill. “I imagine you will be happy to see your father since you have not seen him since before…” He seemed unable to finish his thought and Lucy did not mind.

  “I am,” Lucy said with all honesty. She adjusted her hat so as to block the brightness of the sun’s rays.

  As they reached the top of the hill, Lucy looked out over the valley below, mesmerized by the beauty it held. There were so many shades of green, it was almost overwhelming. The landscape appeared a patchwork quilt, stone walls and hedgerow fences dividing the various pieces of land into uneven patches with spots of bright yellow rapeseed plants bringing a variety to the already eclectic view. A large cloud blocked the sun’s rays on the opposite side of the valley, creating an undertone of the areas that shone brightly, reminding Lucy of lively music played in a minor key.

  “I realize the tale I shared with you of our courtship is foreign to you,” Andrew said quietly as he followed her gaze across the valley. Then he turned her to look at him. “But I must ask. Did any of what I shared with you spark even the vaguest of memory?” The pleading look in his eye made her turn once again to look over the terrain.

  “I am sorry,” she said sadly, “but I remember nothing.”

  He nodded, and though a sense of spiritedness seemed to fall over him, he did not comment.

  “I feared it was the case, but that is fine,” he said. “Doctor Cooke informed us that it could take some time before your memory returned. There is no need to apologize. When the time is right, you will remember. I have faith that you will.” He sighed.

  Lucy looked up at him. For whatever reason they had wed, be it truth or lies, her lack of memory of the occasion truly did seem to bother him, and she could do nothing but feel pity for him. For a brief moment, she thought that perhaps he did truly love her. However, as she tried to work it all out in her mind, her head began to ache; it was simply too much for her to think about at the moment.

  “What if it does not?” Lucy asked.

  “Then I will remain your husband,” he replied without hesitation. “I will do what I can to provide for you, whether you remember or not. I will remain by your side.”

  Though his words were kind and soothing, Lucy found she could not summon even the slightest fondest for him, and for the first time since waking, she felt fearful. She was married to a man she did not love and would be forced to spend the rest of her life with him.

  At this time, however, there was nothing to do but be patient. She shoved the fear down into a small cupboard in the back of her mind where she could deal with it later. She was not the kind of woman to allow anything to get in the way of anything, and that included this tiny mishap in her life. Granted it was more than a tiny mishap, but if she viewed it as such, perhaps it would be easier to defeat.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she gazed over the valley once more. “It is beautiful.”

  “Many times, I came out here thinking of you,” he said, his voice distant, as if recalling a memory. “Even before we were wed.”

  Lucy made no comment, for she had none to make. In the back of her mind, she knew this was all a show, that this man had never been capable of love before, so why did he insist on acting as if her feelings were of the utmost importance? It all made little sense to her, but she had already resigned herself to doing what she could to bring back those missing months. However, given time, perhaps she would learn the truth.

  She did not know for how long they stood there staring over the beauty of the valley before them, but when the clouds rolled in and drops of rain began to fall, Andrew said, “Perhaps we should return to the house before the rain becomes a downpour and we become drenched.”

  She nodded and walked with him down the hill toward Chudleigh Hill. Andrew Balfour was proving to be a much-changed man, but was he truly changed?

  Chapter Eight

  Andrew sat silently near the window as Doctor Cooke moved his finger back and forth in front of Lucy’s face. The doctor had been there less than an hour, putting Lucy through a series of tests; although, Andrew thought a few of his tactics were a bit odd.

  “Very well, Lady Balfour, you may take a seat,” he said finally as he made notes on a pad of paper he carried with him. Andrew was shocked, and delighted, when Alice had asked the doctor to no longer address her as Miss Honeyfield. As far as he was concerned, it showed progress. Granted, he would have preferred she remember who she was rather than concede to her position, but at least it was a start.

  Andrew studied the man to see if he would give any sign that would indicate the results of these tests; however, his face was as stoic as ever, expressing neither pleasure or distress. When Andrew noticed Lucy wringing her hands, he gave her a supportive smile and then turned to the doctor. “Well, Doctor?” Andrew asked hopefully. “Are there any changes in her prognosis?”

  Doctor Cooke gave a deep sigh. “I’m afraid there is nothing new to report this week, though that is not a bad thing.” He took a seat in the chair opposite Lucy. “She did well on the basic tests I have given her, so there is no loss of motor skills or mental capacity. Well, other than the memory loss.” He accepted the cup of tea Lucy offered him with shaky hands.

  “What is the next step?” Andrew asked, declining an offer of tea.

  “I am still awaiting the reply from the doctor in London. Until then, carry on as you have been.” He then turned to Lucy. “How have you been adapting to your new life?”

  Lucy sighed heavily. “I find not remembering recent events to be frustrating, as you can imagine. The talks Andrew and I have had, as well as several of the servants, have been interesting, but so far they have produced nothing.” The sadness in her voice clenched Andrew’s heart. He could not imagine being in her place at this moment, not recalling a love those around her insist she had.

  “I know this is easy for me to say, but give it time. I do believe that, with persistence, your memory will return, or at least some of it. The important thing is to not rush it. You are safe here with your husband, and you have a family that cares for you. And though you do not remember the past year and a half, the fact you can recall with great clarity your life before that time is a good sign.” He set his teacup on the table and rose from the chair. “I must be on my way, but I will return again in two weeks to check on your progress. If I hear from the specialist in London before that time, I will contact you then.”

  “Thank you,” Andrew said as he followed the doctor to where he had set down his bag. “I appreciate you taking the time to come by.”

  “It is my pleasure, Your Grace,” the doctor replied. Then he turned to Lucy and added, “and you continue to rest. Do not stress your mind too much; it will all come together. The important thing is not to rush it; simply be patient.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Lucy said. “I will do my best.”
>
  The doctor gave her a smile. “I’m certain you will.”

  Once Andrew had seen out the doctor, he returned to the drawing room. At the door, he stopped. Lucy stood at the window, staring off into the distance, the side of her face highlighted by the sun. Her beauty captivated him still, and his heart swelled with love for his wife. What a cruel twist of fate that had fallen upon them. He had fallen in love and married who he deemed the most precious woman, only to have her forget their love. Although there was hope she would remember him and their love in time, he could not help but worry that she would not. The thought frightened him, for if his love was never returned, what would happen to them?

  Then Lucy turned away from the window and looked at him. He smiled. It matters not if she remembered at all, for he loved her and would stay by her side forever.

  “Why do you stare at me?” Lucy asked, her head tilted to the side.

  “You are a beautiful woman,” he replied. “It is something I cannot control, nor do I wish to.”

  “Well, staring is considered rude,” she said firmly. Then she walked toward him, a sly smile on her face. His heart rate increased as she stopped in front of him. Would she kiss him? Her hand came out and she placed it on his arm. “Andrew?”

  “Yes?” he asked, his breath caught in his throat.

  “I am going to lie down,” she replied. “Please do not be too loud; I need my rest.” Then she dropped her hand and walked past him.

  He stared after her, his mouth hanging open. This was the old Lucy he remembered, full of defiance. How many times had she done just as she had now, making him believe she was going to do one thing only to change it at the last second and do something completely different?

  His ears picked up a small laugh. It seemed Lucy found what she had done amusing. Letting out a sigh, he made his way to the study and took a seat behind his desk. The old Lucy was back, and as difficult as it was to see her defiant demeanor once again, he was happy. For a defiant Lucy was better than no Lucy at all.

  ***

  Four days had passed since Doctor Cooke had visited, and Lucy continued to refuse to eat any meals with Andrew, a fact that bothered him more than he cared to admit. He understood time was what she required to recover from her ordeal, taken at her own pace so as not to prolong her recovery, but could he not insist that she at least dine with him and engage in conversation?

  He rubbed his temples and sighed heavily. Tomorrow her parents would arrive, and although he enjoyed Lady Honeyfield’s company, he could not say the same for her husband. The man was crass, his stories long-winded and tedious, and Andrew was thankful that he had plenty of brandy to help him endure their visit.

  One of the maids walked past the study and Andrew called out to her, “Leah, come here, please.”

  The girl gave a quick curtsy, blushing profusely at being addressed directly by the Duke himself. “Your Grace?”

  “Please tell my wife that I wish to speak with her.”

  “Yes, Your Grace,” the girl replied with another quick bob before she left the room so quickly she almost appeared to run. Perhaps he should have made the request of someone else. Yet, he was the Duke after all; could he not make a simple request of any of his servants?

  Several minutes later, Lucy walked into the study. “You wished to see me?” she said. Once again, Andrew found himself unable to take his eyes off her. Her beauty captivated him and his mind became muddled for a moment before he finally recovered his senses.

  “I did,” he said as he rose from his chair and offered her one of the chairs by the cold and barren fireplace. As she sat, however, he wondered if the drawing room would have been a better choice to discuss things; the study reminded him too much of business meetings and certainly was not the best place for a married couple to enjoy a conversation. Yet, now that she was seated, he did not wish to waste time moving to another room.

  Why was he finding it so difficult to think clearly?

  “Your parents arrive tomorrow,” he said as he took the seat opposite her.

  This brought a light to her eyes. “Yes, as will my sister Mary,” she replied very pleased. He nodded, though he already knew that Mary would not be coming, but her parents had requested he not tell her, and he would honor their wishes, even if he knew it was not the best way to handle the information.

  “I must ask,” he said quietly, “will you be dining with us while your parents are here?” When she gave him a surprised look, he quickly added, “I only ask because you have not been willing to dine with me, and I was unsure whether this was because you preferred to eat in your room because you were too tired or if it was me who kept you away.”

  “Please do not make yourself a victim in light of my circumstances, Andrew,” she said. “I know all about you too well. If you must know, yes, I will dine with you. However, do not think because of my illness that you will take advantage of me.” Her voice was firm and she held her head high.

  “Of course,” he said in shock. “I would never do such a thing. I conduct myself as a gentleman at all times.” He received a small sniff of disdain in response.

  “We shall see,” she said haughtily. “I may have lost some of my memories, but I do recollect several things about you.”

  Now he was amused. He leaned back in his seat attempting to maintain a serious face. “Oh? And what things do you recollect about me?”

  “I can tell you, but I will not be rebuked for telling the truth.”

  “No, of course not. Please, speak freely.”

  She smoothed her dress and then placed her hands in her lap. “The Widow Hatcher. I do believe, if my memory serves me correctly, you were seen visiting her not long ago.” He had to remind himself that her ‘not long ago’ was much different from his. “And I understand that the woman was later seen throughout the remainder of the week with a very wide smile on her face. Now tell me,” —she leaned forward and narrowed her eyes at him— “what would cause a woman in such misery to be smiling so fully after a single visit from you?”

  However, Lucy did not give Andrew the chance to reply as she brushed back a lock of blond hair that had fallen over her cheek. “I will tell you why. It is because you are a rogue!” She shouted the last with a venomousness he had not seen from her in more than a year.

  Try as he might, Andrew was unable to restrain the rueful laughter that spouted from his lips. “Oh, I see now,” he said as he grasped the arms of the chair in which he sat. “A woman who is suffering after the loss of her husband must be seeking the arms of another man that same week?” The idea was ludicrous and he could not for the life of him figure out from where this all stemmed.

  “Well, perhaps her grief made her vulnerable!” she shouted. “Much like I was from the brandy I had drunk when you stole a kiss from me!”

  He chuckled, which only made her face redden even more than it already was. “I cannot lie, I did steal that kiss from you, something of which I am quite proud to this day.”

  She rose from the chair, shaking her head. “As I thought. You men are all alike.”

  “Lucy,” Andrew said as he grabbed her hand. When she glared at him, he quickly let go, “Alfred Hatcher had invested money into a few business ventures with me.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “Yes, she was unhappy when I arrived while she was in mourning; however, the money he had invested had very good returns. You must understand, she was going to sell her house, but with the money I was able to give her, she not only was able to keep the house, there was enough for her and her children to live quiet comfortably for a very long time.”

  Lucy’s eyes darted back and forth and then fell to the ground. “Well, I did not realize,” she said, her voice still holding the haughty tone from earlier. “I apologize for accusing you of any wrongdoing.”

  He took her hand in his, placed a finger beneath her chin, and made her look at him. “There is nothing for which to apologize. I told you before, if you have anything you wish to ask me, you are free to do so. Whatever
you ask, I will always tell you the truth.”

  She gave a single nod and then headed to the door. Andrew was not surprised that, although she had spoken the words, she did not appear to be sorry. The Lucy he had known all that time ago had been the same, and it saddened him to know that woman was returning. However, just before walking out, she turned back and gave him a smile. “Thank you,” she said in a quiet voice, and then she turned and was soon out of sight.

  Perhaps there was more of the new Lucy that remained. At least that was what Andrew hoped.

  Chapter Nine

  The team of white horses snorted as the driver pulled on the reins of the large carriage that stopped in front of Chudleigh Hill. Lucy stood by the door and waited for her parents to alight, excited to see her father, but even more so Mary. It had been far too long since she and her sister had shared in the latest gossip, and she could not wait to see her. When they were younger, they spent hours together, dressing their dolls when they were children and talking about whichever boy they fancied once they were old enough to find boys interesting.

  The driver hopped from his seat and pulled out a step, which he placed on the ground just outside the door of the carriage. After opening the door, a gloved hand appeared, and the man helped Lady Honeyfield from the vehicle, her dark-blue skirts rustling as she expertly stepped down to the ground. She adjusted her hat, a lovely bergere with a ribbon and large feather that matched the blue in her dress. The woman still looked young and vibrant despite her forty years.

  Lord Honeyfield followed his wife from the carriage and pulled on his coat as he looked around the him appreciatively. His round face held the typical rosiness it always did, and his smile was as wide as ever when he laid eyes on Lucy. “There is my daughter!” he beamed, his arms opened wide.