The Duchess Remembers

by Monroe, Jennifer

  Hannah let out a small laugh. “That is kind of you to say,” she said. “But I am no lady like you. No man will look at me twice, especially if he’s got a title.”

  “You hold yourself as well as any lady,” Lucy assured her. “There are many men out there who care nothing for title or wealth, though they might be few.” She added the last with a giggle. “However, you must promise me that, when the day comes and you leave us to join your husband, you will write and visit me.”

  “That is a promise,” Hannah said, though her voice held a bit of skepticism, which Lucy could understand. Few women crossed the lines set by class, especially one of the lower class to the upper. However, there were known women who had done so, and Hannah had as much of a chance to have an earl or a marquess fall in love with her as any woman she knew. Unless, of course, he was a man obsessed with his standing in society, of which there were all too many these days.

  The carriage came to a stop before a large home with a white stone facade and a wide covered stoop. Lucy had many memories of Eliza’s home, and though they were all from some time ago, it felt like only last month since she had been here last. That strange feeling of emptiness threatened to overtake her, and she took a deep breath to overcome it. She had accepted few invitations and it was high time she accepted her fate and moved on with her life. Yes, she had very few memories of her recent life, but being among old friends and sharing in the latest gossip would be a wonderful relief from hours spent at home fretting over missing memories.

  The door opened to a liveried butler, who gave them a deep bow. “Ladies,” he said in a nasally tone, “please come in. Mrs. Treverton is waiting for you in the sitting room.”

  “Thank you,” Lucy said as she allowed the man to take her wrap, as well as Hannah’s. Then she followed him through a tall set of double doors to where a group of friends Lucy immediately recognized sat sipping tea.

  “Lucy!” Eliza said as she set her tea on a low table. She made her way to Lucy and hugged her tightly. “It is so wonderful to see you.” She glanced at Hannah and smiled. “And who do we have here?”

  Lucy reddened. “This is my friend and companion, Hannah Strossburg.”

  “Welcome to my home, Hannah,” Eliza said warmly. “Betsy will be late, as she usually is.”

  Lucy laughed. “At least I know that some things do not change.”

  This brought about a titter of laughter from the other four women who sat waiting for the new arrivals to take a seat.

  “I was just telling Eleanor about your accident and subsequent issues,” Eliza explained as she offered Lucy and Hannah a seat. “Tea?”

  “Yes, please,” Lucy replied. Hannah hesitated, her hands wringing in her lap, but finally said “Yes” in a quiet voice.

  “So, how are you feeling?” Eleanor asked in her high-pitched tone. Lucy often wondered, when others overheard the woman in public, if they searched for the young child to which that voice belonged. They had spoken on several occasions that Lucy could recall, but Lucy never particularly cared for the woman.

  “I am much better,” she replied with a courteous smile.

  “So, you have regained your memory, then?” the woman asked in a very forward manner that made Lucy feel very uncomfortable.

  “Some,” Lucy replied, unwilling to share the intimate details of her memory loss with the woman, “but not all. However, Doctor Cooke believes it will return eventually.” Then she turned to Hannah in an attempt to change the subject. “Hannah here will be looking for a suitor at our party,” she said with a smile. “I would hope you ladies might help me in finding her a suitable beau.”

  Nancy Drake, a robust woman who looked much more so than the last time Lucy had seen her, spoke up. “I believe Henry Elbert will be there.” She placed a finger on her chin. “Though, now that I recall, he may not be a man to be trusted.”

  “Why is that?” Lucy asked, her curiosity piqued.

  “One of his maids is with child, and I heard from Mary Thorne just last week that she saw both the maid and Mr. Elbert sneaking out of the engagement party for his brother not a fortnight ago. Apparently, he had insisted that the girl be at the party because they needed the extra help, but no other servant from Mr. Elbert’s household was asked to serve other than her.” She ended her tale with a punctuated lift of her eyebrows and a single nod to her heard.

  Lucy sipped her tea as she listened to the woman speak, her brow scrunched. “So, she already knows the child is Mr. Elbert’s?” she asked.

  A few of the other women laughed and Lucy felt her face heat up.

  “It is obvious the child must be his,” Lady Martha Sorenson said with a wave of her hand, her tight dark curls bobbing with her head. “However, I heard something even worse.” She looked around the room, and when she leaned in and lowered her voice, the other women also leaned forward in in a conspiratorial manner. “Lord Powell struck his wife not ten days ago, and she fell down the stairs and lost the child she was carrying.”

  A collective gasp resounded around the room, but Lucy felt an unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her last memories of meeting with these women and passing around the latest gossip of members of the ton had been fascinating, but now they held little enjoyment. For several minutes, she listened to a tale concerning Lady Rebecca Hoskins and the loss of her second unborn child, and as she took note of what these women were saying, she found only one thing was true: the woman no longer carried a child inside her. The remainder of the story was based in speculation and tidbits of rumors. Lucy herself did not know Lady Hoskins, but she could not imagine the pain the woman was enduring after such an ordeal. Yet, these women around her had no words of sorrow or sympathy for her condition, but rather continued to speculate aimlessly as to the cause of the woman’s lack of carrying a child successfully to term.

  Lucy sipped her tea and found herself sitting silently in the chair as if to hide herself from the discussions around her, wondering if she had been as bad as these women were, and feeling sick to her stomach that, indeed, she probably had been.

  ***

  Andrew looked up at the gray sky as he walked through his gardens. Though it was cold and his surroundings lacked color, the idea of fresh air had been much too tempting. It was in these very gardens that, while courting Lucy, that their love had begun to blossom. They had become new people, so changed from who they were before. Her defiant ways had lessened, and his unsavory behavior had calmed significantly by that time.

  He came to a stop before a row of hedges, the small branches bare beneath his hand. One memory came to mind of when he had once told Lucy that there was always a brighter day ahead. Much like the plants, if one could overcome the winter, spring would bring new life. He sighed. How he wished the spring season of their marriage would come and bring new life and love back into it, for the winter they were experiencing at the moment was as brutal as an arctic storm.

  With a shake to his head, he knew he must remain patient. Though only a few memories returned, he had faith that more would. Yes, the spring for which he hoped and prayed would return.

  “If you hope to see the leaves return,” a voice that reminded him of a lovely violin said behind him, “I am afraid it will be quite a few more months.”

  He laughed. Lucy wore a mischievous smile as she approached him, and he wished he had her ability to know the thoughts of others.

  “Shall we take a walk before dinner?” she asked.

  “I would love nothing more,” he replied as he proffered her his arm. She slipped her arm in his without hesitation, and he reveled in the way she smelled—of jasmine and Eau de Lucy.

  They walked in silence, the only sounds the winter birds singing in the pale sun, though they remained hidden more than likely in the large branches of the elm trees where their song would not be disturbed by some unwitting human. “How was your outing?” he asked as they strolled down the footpath. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  She seemed to hesitate before answerin
g. “It was nice to see old friends,” she replied slowly, “but I found a part of me there for which I did not particularly care.”

  “Oh?” he asked, his curiosity piqued as to what part of her old self she had encountered. “And what was that?”

  Her brow scrunched and she stopped below a tall tree to gather her thoughts. “Though it does not happen often, there are times when women are prone to discuss that which they have heard about others—rumors, I imagine one would say; that is, gossip.”

  He stifled a chuckle. “I have heard that what you say occurs on rare occasion, yes,” he replied. “Please, continue.”

  “Well, I will not bore you with that which we discussed, but I found myself feeling uneasy listening to some of the women comment on the misfortune of others. When I arrived at Eliza’s house, I was quite excited to share in these tales with my dearest friends as I once had; however, rather than enjoying the stories, I found myself feeling sad. The thought occurred to me that these tales, this gossip, perhaps do more harm than good to the people of whom those stories concern.”

  Andrew smiled as he was reminded of a similar conversation in this very garden. Upon learning the truth concerning a rumor about her friend Charlotte, Lucy had realized how gossip could be hurtful, and that many of the tales that traverse the path of rumor are quite often lies, or perhaps mutilations of the truth. It had been the dawning of their newfound love.

  “I am pleased to hear you say that the defiant and gossiping woman I once knew is gone once again,” he said as he gazed down at her. “I can see in your eyes that you have, once again, changed for the better.”

  Her smile looked radiant as she slipped her hand in his. “It is true,” she replied, “for I feel that a portion of myself has been removed, but it was a part which needed to be left behind. Now I will focus on good things, not torn sleeves or falling off a cliff. The most important thing now is…” She stopped and her eyes widened.

  “What is this most important thing?” he asked quietly.

  “Us.”

  He nodded and his heart soared. Perhaps now, after four long, excruciating months, they were taking a step toward the love they both needed to share.

  “In time, everything will return,” he replied as he touched her cheek. “For now, let us go eat; you know I do not like being late.”

  This brought on the light tinkle of laughter he loved to hear, and this time, as they walked, she pressed in closer to him and he to her. As they passed another row of hedges which stood bereft of its summer glory, he smiled. As with those empty branches were to the hedge, their spring would come one day and bring life to a rather dreary day.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  If one were to say that the Dowager Duchess was as dry as the cold November weather outside, Lucy would not disagree. Andrew’s mother had arrived the day before and now sat across the table from Lucy discussing the final details of the party scheduled to take place tomorrow evening. Guests would be arriving in the morning, and the Dowager Duchess felt a great need to offer her advice on how the event should be run.

  “Nonetheless, it should be a grand event, one that I am certain will not disappoint,” the Dowager Duchess was saying. “It is good that I have arrived to help with any last-minute issues.”

  A footman removed the barely touched plate before Lucy as she stole a glance at Andrew. He gave her a small smile, which she returned with effort. He had warned Lucy his mother could be a bit overbearing, but she had no idea how inaccurate his description had been.

  “Though, I do wonder when a party will be held to announce a coming child,” the severe woman said. She smiled with a raise of her eyebrows and then took a sip of her wine.

  Lucy wished only to ask the dreadful woman when she was due to leave, but instead bit her tongue.

  Andrew, thankfully, came to Lucy’s rescue. “Family will come later, Mother,” he explained. “For now, per the doctor’s orders, Lucy must focus on her recovery. The stress of carrying a child is the last thing with which I wish to burden her.”

  Much to Lucy’s pleasure, the Dowager Duchess held a look as if she had been slapped as she set her glass on the table. “You act as if I do not wish to see Lucy to recover,” she said, though Lucy wondered at the woman’s startlement seemed forced. “That simply is not true.”

  “Mother, of course…”

  “Yet,” she continued as if Andrew had not spoken, “she is able to attend parties, drink wine, visit friends. Trust me, my son, you will not cause her any undue stress. When I carried you, I was ill for months, but I did not allow it to stop me carrying you to term.”

  Lucy bit back a burning retort. Andrew had told her of his mother’s propensity to complain of ailments as a means of gaining the attention of those around her. According to Andrew’s father, while she was carrying Andrew, apparently she spent much of that time bedridden, and yet, the doctor could find nothing wrong with her. However, when she had a visitor, or if she was invited to dine with friends, she made miraculous recoveries only to be stricken once again once she returned home or the visitor left.

  “Mother,” Andrew said, this time much firmer than before, “when I believe the time is right for children, you will be the first person I inform.”

  This seemed to appease the Dowager Duchess somewhat. Then she let out a sigh. “You must forgive me,” she said as she turned to Lucy. “In my time, a woman let nothing stand in her way of performing her duties. I must accept that not all can live up to my standards.”

  Lucy went to speak her thoughts on the matter, but luckily, or unluckily depending on whose point of view one considered, Andrew spoke first.

  “No woman could live up to your standards,” he said as he pushed his chair back and stood. Then he walked over to Lucy and leaned in to whisper in her ear, “For it would be a nightmare.”

  Lucy almost spit out her wine but managed to cough as she set the glass down. “Oh, forgive me,” she said as she pressed a napkin to her lips.

  “Shall we go to the drawing room for coffee?” Andrew asked.

  “I would like to finish my wine and then I believe I will retire after,” his mother replied. “It was a long journey and I am not as young as I once was.”

  “I would like to finish the embroidery on a table cloth, if that is acceptable,” Lucy said with an innocent smile.

  Andrew nodded. It was clear he had caught her subtle hint at needing to escape his mother’s company, for he said, “Yes, of course. I wondered why you have fallen behind on your needlework.”

  The Dowager Duchess gave a tiny click of disapproval but said nothing, which suited Lucy just fine.

  “I will come by to see you in a while,” Andrew said with a wink.

  Lucy gave a stiff nod to them both and quickly hurried out of the room. A lamp had already been lit, and a small fire that gave off little heat had been started in the fireplace. She walked to the window and looked out into the darkness and wondered how long before snow, if any, would come. A cold draft wafted past her, and she shivered wishing she had thought to bring a shawl.

  Her mind returned to the conversation with her mother-in-law.

  Although the woman’s words concerning children had angered her, Lucy also appreciated the importance of what she said. It was not unusual for a woman to hope for grandchildren, and it was Lucy’s duty to provide children for her husband, for the man she was supposed to love. However, though she had come to adore him, love still had not fallen upon her heart. In spite of the fact Andrew had given her a smile as his mother voiced her concerns, Lucy saw the longing in his eyes. She could not blame him, for a man, especially one who was titled, needed an heir.

  She let out a heavy sigh and a fog formed on the window. Her not conceiving his child was just one more way she had disappointed him.

  “I have a much warmer fire burning in the study, if you care to join me,” Andrew said, breaking Lucy from her thoughts.

  She turned and smiled at him. Though her frustration at her own shortcom
ings were great, she found no fault in the man. “I would like that very much,” she replied.

  He offered her his arm and she slipped her arm through his. He placed a gentle hand on hers as they crossed the foyer over to the study. Once inside, he led her to the sofa and he want to pour himself a brandy. “Would you like a glass of wine?” he asked.

  “Yes, please,” she replied.

  “I hope my mother’s words did not upset you,” he said as he handed her the glass.

  “No,” she replied as she looked at the crimson liquid. “I understand her concern. It is my duty to bear your children, and I have failed you in that matter.”

  He sat next to her. “I am afraid you are quite mistaken; you have not failed me.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Your duty is to recover and to regain your memory, which you are doing. For now, that is my only desire.”

  She stared at him in disbelief. “Do you not wish to have children?” Then she scolded herself for asking him such a question, for a flicker of pain crossed his eyes, filling her with more regret.

  “I wish to have you happy and nothing more,” he replied. “Now, there is no reason to discuss children at this moment. We have more pressing matters, such as our upcoming party. Are you eager for it to begin?”

  Lucy smiled. “I am,” she replied truthfully. “And, now that you mention it, I really should get to bed soon. We have several guests who will be arriving in the early hours, and I must be well-rested.” A look of disappointment crossed his face. How she wished to tell him that he had done no wrong, but rather it was her continuous failings that were the issue. “However, I might enjoy the rest of my wine first.”

  This brought on a wide smile, for which she was glad. She moved in closer to him and allowed him to rest his arm around her shoulders as she laid her head on his chest. This was the closest they had ever been, or at least as she remembered, and she found comfort in his arms.