The Duchess Remembers

by Monroe, Jennifer

  “I say, Old Boy,” the man mumbled as he squinted back at Andrew, “you sure know how to host a party. I cannot remember the last time I had enjoyed myself so much. If only there existed some sort of magic potion to relieve me of this blasted ache in my head. I believe I will abstain from further consumption of alcohol…at least until the next party.”

  Andrew gave him an obligatory laugh. “Have a nice day, Filmore, and thank you for coming,” he said in reply as the man made three attempts to mount his horse. Why he had not chosen to arrive by carriage, Andrew did not know, but in all reality, the man could have walked for all he cared.

  The previous evening had proven to not be one of those occasions Andrew had enjoyed with the man, but not due to anything the man himself had done. No, last night’s lack of enjoyment had been of his own doing.

  Andrew rubbed at his temples in an attempt to ease the pain in his head. The ache was caused, in part, by the amount of alcohol Andrew had consumed during the party, but only a minuscule part. The majority of his aching head was a direct result of the strain that plagued him at the moment.

  As he walked into his study, he was drawn to the window, which overlooked the front of the house. Although it was late morning, the sky was a dark gray, thick with heavy clouds that threatened rain. A fire blazed in the grate behind him, its warmth heating his body but not his heart.

  His mind replayed the events from the previous night. What he had hoped was that the party would bring great joy to Lucy; however, as he watched her throughout the night, he soon realized that, in fact, it had the exact opposite effect. Her smile, though wide enough to fool most who did not know her well, had not been genuine, for he knew her smile as well as he knew the back of his hand.

  Perhaps he had gone too far too soon by inviting people she should have had some recollection of meeting and not more of those whom she knew before their courtship and then subsequent marriage. Or was the issue that there simply had been too many people at one time? If he had invited only a few close friends, would that have been less straining for her?

  Whatever it might have been, his words to her in this very room were cruel. They were spoken by a man who spent day and night concerned for the woman he loved. Since the night she awoke screaming from her nightmare, he had not had a full-night’s sleep, waking every few hours to return to her room to assure himself that she was sleeping peacefully, or spending hours sitting and watching her from the chair next to her bed, praying her dreams were peaceful. Other times, he would simply check on her only to return and repeat the process an hour later.

  How he wished he could retract the words from the air that he had spoken the previous night. They were cruel and not from his heart. He loved her, and she in no way had caused him disappointment. In fact, he was quite proud of her progress and how much she had changed since she had awoken—changed as she had done before. The defiant woman was gone once again, and the kind woman she had grown to be had returned.

  Andrew turned as one of the maids, Betsy by name, entered with a tea tray and set it on a table. She dropped a quick curtsy and left the room without a word. He walked to the tray and poured a cup of tea and carried it to the window. The sky had darkened even more, leaving the hedges to seem barer than ever. There seemed to be no light nor life around him, and he felt his mood deepen. Would it continue this way?

  Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he took a sip of his tea as his mind returned to what he had seen the previous night. Three women had slipped out a far door, and as he had watched, he stifled a laugh. It reminded him so of a night nearly two years prior, and wishing to continue his recreation of previous events, he later sought Lucy out. When he saw her beside the fireplace, he felt such attraction to her, even more than he had that night so long ago.

  However, this time when he kissed her, rather than bringing about feigned admonishment as she had before, her anger had been all too real. He was unsure what had caused him to lose his temper. Perhaps it was the rejection he had felt, or the constant inquiries by his mother and other guests—most of them friends of his mother—as to where she had disappeared. Whatever it was, it did not matter now, for he would speak with her, explain that his intentions were only to help her with her memories. He would apologize for the way in which had spoken to her. Not all he had said had been a lie; he did wish her to be happy, and he wanted nothing more than to have her fall in love with him once again—in her own time. Berating her would not help the process of returning her memories, but would rather slow it down, and that was the last thing he wanted for her.

  The door opened and Lucy entered, closing the door softly behind her.

  “Good morning,” Andrew said. “Would you like a cup of tea?” He walked to the tea tray with every intention of pouring for her.

  “Good morning,” she replied stiffly, “and no, thank you. However, may I speak with you?”

  Andrew nodded as relief washed over him. At least she was willing to talk, which would lead, hopefully, to an open door of communication between the two of them. If he had the chance to explain what he had said and done and why, then they could resume the building of their relationship, and he could prove to her he would be there with her at all times, just as he had promised

  “Please, sit,” Andrew said, offering her a place on the sofa.

  She shook her head. “No, thank you. I would prefer to stand.” She cleared her throat before continuing. “With your permission, I would like to travel to my parents’ house for a visit.” She wrung her hands in front of her as she spoke. “I believe it would be best for me to see my sister and have some time away…alone.” Her voice trembled and her eyes filled with tears, although they did not fall.

  “I see,” Andrew replied. This was not about visiting family; it was about getting away from him. Although the thought of her being away from him broke his heart, he did not wish to stop her from doing what she thought was best. “Do you know how long you plan to…visit?” he asked, his own voice choked.

  She shook her head, and a lone tear rolled down her cheek. “In truth, I am not certain for how long,” she said simply.

  Andrew brought the teacup to his lips, not because he was thirsty, but because he wished to hide the pain coursing its way through his soul. She might be gone a week or a month or even longer, and fear ran through him as he wondered if she might consider never returning.

  “Very well,” he said finally. “I will inform anyone who asks that you are visiting your sister, who is having a difficult pregnancy.”

  Tears now flowed down her face and Andrew walked around the chair and handed her a handkerchief. She dabbed at her eyes. “Hannah will pack the last of our things,” she said with a small sniff. “I will write to you.”

  Andrew nodded and walked her to the door. “Lucy?” he said as she started across the foyer to the staircase.

  She stopped and turned, and his mind flashed with memories of their life from the first day he had met her to the day of their wedding, and just as when she had fallen down the cliff before, he had failed to keep her from pain.

  “Yes?”

  “I am sorry about last night.”

  “I am, as well,” she replied. “Take care, Andrew.” Then she turned and walked away.

  Andrew closed the door to the study, walked over to his desk and lowered himself into the chair. The realization that he was once again losing his wife was almost too much to bear.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As the footman closed the door of the carriage, Lucy peered out the window at the man who was her husband. He waited just outside the front door of Chudleigh Hill, a light breeze fanning his dark hair around his face. Even from this distance, his hurt was evident. Although running away would not rectify her problems, Lucy found staying here to be much too painful to endure. She would miss Andrew, of that she was certain, but it was unfair to expect him to continue putting aside his needs for a woman who did not love him. Her life, or the memory of her life, was at Foxglove Estate,
and even after all that Andrew had attempted to do to help her feel comfortable, Lucy simply did not feel at home here.

  “We are ready, Your Grace,” the driver said through the window.

  “Thank you,” Lucy replied and the carriage rocked as the man climbed up into the seat above her. Then he clicked his tongue and the carriage sprang into motion. Andrew lifted a hand in the air and Lucy raised hers in reply. Soon, the house grew smaller as they made their way down the drive, and soon everything around her became obscured through the tears that fell.

  “Don’t worry, Lucy,” Hannah said quietly as she placed a hand upon Lucy’s. “Everything will work out in the end.”

  “Thank you, Hannah,” Lucy replied, though she had great doubts about the words Hannah spoke. If only she could remember what it was like to be in love with Andrew, then perhaps her life would have turned out much differently. However, it would be best for everyone concerned if she returned to her old life and continued down the path she was meant to follow, for the path she had been walking since she awoke from her long sleep did not feel as it should. She and Andrew were incompatible; they always had been, and pretending they had been destined to fall in love would not change that fact. One could playact at being in love, but to truly be in love was another thing altogether.

  The landscape flashed by in a great blur as the carriage increased its speed once they reached the main road. It would not be long before she was home once more, returned to where she was meant to be. The further she got from Chudleigh Hill, the easier it seemed that she was making the right decision, for if in the moment the horses had taken their first steps he had asked her to stay, if he had run after the carriage, she might have relented. However, he did not, which told her that he agreed this decision was best for both of them. His life would be that much better without the need to make apologies when she did not recall the name of a client or an acquaintance she had met before though did not remember. He would no longer agonize over whether or not a story he told would bring her to tears. They would no longer be expected to pretend there was love where it did not exist.

  Perhaps, one day, Lucy would return to Chudleigh Hill to be the wife Andrew deserved, if they were able to rekindle a love affair she did not recall. However, until then, this was what was best.

  Yet, as she stared at the gray sky that threatened rain, the hope she anticipated upon leaving Andrew’s side did not materialize. Instead, only despair remained.

  ***

  Being back to her childhood home, which it seemed as such in her mind, brought about a feeling of familiarity she so sorely needed. Chudleigh Hill was a beautiful home to be sure, but it lacked that feeling of home a residence should have. Lucy and Hannah had only arrived moments ago, and her mother had already ushered them into the sitting room and had tea brought up, apparently thrilled they had come to visit.

  “I do hope Andrew’s business dealings go well,” Lady Honeyfield said as she added a splash of milk to her tea. “I am so pleased you were able to come to visit me; I have missed you terribly.”

  “It was Andrew who suggested I come see you,” Lucy lied. “As he will be traveling extensively, he preferred I not be alone with all that has happened.” She turned to Hannah and patted her hand. “I do not mean to say that your company is unwelcome or unappreciated; I hope you know that.”

  Hannah laughed. “Of course,” she replied. “No offense taken. I understand the importance of having family nearby.”

  “I am glad,” Lucy said before turning her attention back to her mother, wondering if the woman had found her story believable. Although Lady Honeyfield gave no indication of finding untruths in what Lucy said, Lucy could still not help but feel a bit of guilt wash over her at the prospect of outright lying to her mother.

  “I was hoping to call on your sister tomorrow,” Lady Honeyfield said as she set her teacup back on the table. “We can make the journey together, I should think.”

  This raised Lucy’s mood considerably. “I cannot wait to see her,” she said enthusiastically. “I have been so immersed in recovering my memory that I must admit I have completely forgotten about her.”

  “Oh, nonsense; there is no need to feel guilty, my dear,” her mother admonished. “She understands that you have not been well. I know she has mentioned how terrible she feels that she has not gone to visit you since your accident, but I informed her that you realize that having a new child can be more than enough of an excuse for anyone.”

  Lucy nodded. She was appreciative of her mother’s words but they did little to placate her. Enough memories resided in her head to know that her sister was important to her.

  “You are fortunate to have a husband as understanding as His Grace,” Lady Honeyfield stated. “I hope you know that.” She punctuated her words with a pointed raise of her eyebrows.

  “Yes, Mother, I do, but why do you say that?”

  Her mother smiled as she returned her teacup to the small table in front of them and then placed her hands in her lap. Lucy had seen this posture before and knew that a lecture followed. “A husband that allows his wife to travel at will, turns a blind eye when she slips away from a party when she is the hostess…Your father and I left early, and when we could not find you to bid you farewell, Andrew told us you had retired early due to an aching head. However, the fact that Charlotte also attending this party, and knowing you as well as I do, I imagine that you had not, in fact, retired for the evening, but more than likely sneaked off to commit some sort of mischief.” She picked up her tea cup once again and gazed at Hannah over its rim. “Or am I mistaken?”

  Poor Hannah, thought Lucy. She was much too honest and kind for her own good, not to mention that Lucy’s mother was quite accomplished with her pointed looks, for Hannah responded to Lucy’s mother with a shy smile and a shake of her head. “What I am saying, my dear, is simply this: there are times when a person focuses on that which is not right rather than on that which is, simply because the former seems more convenient than the latter. However, whenever this is the case, it typically causes that person quite a bit of heartache. Do you understand?”

  Lucy nodded as she worked the words her mother spoke through her mind. She did understand and, as always, her mother was correct in her assessments; however, putting what she said into practice was difficult. Lucy knew that Andrew was more than accommodating to her wishes, even this morning she had seen the pain in his eyes and could hear it in his voice when she informed him she was leaving. He was no fool, for he knew what Lucy was doing and why. Yet, to allow the man to bear the burden of having a wife who did not remember him as he remembered her was more than any woman could ask of any man.

  Plus, how certain was she that what she had done in leaving him was not the right thing to do? Perhaps in this one decision she was doing what truly was right.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Andrew read the letter in his hand once again, though he knew it by heart he had read it so many times. Lucy’s words jumped at him from the page, and he wished she could be here to tell her of her time with her parents.

  She had visited her sister, having spent four days with her and her family, and now she and Hannah had returned with her mother to the family home. Apparently, she was quite taken with her niece and nephew, for she wrote pages about how wonderful they were.

  His eyes reread the last line as he spoke the words aloud, “I know I have caused you pain, and for that I am terribly sorry.”

  How could she have thought her condition caused him pain? Granted, the situation was not one for which he would have hoped, but it did not keep him from loving her. Yet, what words could he possibly speak to express this that he had not already spoken? Nothing but joy had he felt at the fact she had lived when the chances of her dying had been so great. However, her missing from their home is what muted his joy. He only wished for her to return to him, and soon. If she was here, they could make plans as to how to make this marriage work for the two of them.

  Setting t
he letter aside, he breathed deeply to calm his nerves. He left the study and walked toward the foyer. As he passed the dining room door, he stopped and glanced at the empty table. It seemed an eternity had passed since Lucy had refused to eat at that table, and now that she had finally agreed, she had found yet another excuse to be kept from his company.

  He sighed and continued down the hall and up the stairs. He entered her room and leaned against the bedpost. How many nights had he spent sleeping in that chair? How many times had he heard her moan in her sleep only to awaken with a start? He had kept this from her, for he knew it would only upset her further. When he looked at the bed, empty as if it was awaiting its owner’s return, his thoughts returned to the night she had dreamed of her accident and how he had lain in bed with her, their hands clasped together. For the first time since her accident, he felt he had somehow protected her in some small way.

  “Tomorrow is a new day, and no matter what it brings, we shall face it together,” he whispered as if an echo of the words he had spoken to her that night. He held onto those words as if they would keep him afloat when life threatened to pull him under and drown him. The house seemed so empty without Lucy, and it was as if the walls were closing in on him. Perhaps a walk through the gardens—a bout of fresh air—would help clear his mind. When he returned to the foyer, Mason approached almost immediately.

  “I will need my coat, Mason,” Andrew said, and the man went immediately to collect it. When Mason returned, he helped Andrew don the dark, heavy coat and then Andrew stepped out into the cold, chilling air. At first, Andrew thought the droplets he saw were rain, that is, until he recognized the collection of small white dots on his coat sleeve. Snow, a rare treat this time of year, but pleasing nonetheless.

  Careful not to slip on the steps, he made his way to the garden. The barren hedges already had a light dusting of snow, but with the warm days that had accompanied autumn, very little had accumulated on the ground as of yet.