To Find a Duchess

by Lisa M. Prysock

  She had untied the bow of her hat and held it in her hands. She took two steps back and curtsied slowly. It took him a moment to recover from her simple but respectful actions. She, nor he, really knew why she'd done that. Perhaps his presence had been too commanding, he wondered. For a brief moment he wondered if she knew he was a Duke? Then he chided himself, of course, she didn't know; neither of them knew of the other before his anonymous advertisement. To her, it had seemed like the right thing to do at the time of their first meeting; a way of setting the tone and showing a basic and general respect to him, though she knew so little of him. After all, he might become her future husband. Had she known he was in truth the fifth Duke in a long line of Dukes, she might have understood her actions and responses to him a little more.

  He had a baffled look in his eyes as he led her to the little parlor. Something had obviously overcome her about his demeanor --and to curtsey slowly like that, to a potentially future husband, showed a great deal of respect, even perhaps a small dose of natural submission in her nature. She seemed an angelic creature right from the start. She was rendered speechless by finally meeting the man behind the advertisement she had prayed so fervently about before responding.

  “Please, feel free to sit down,” he said. He was determined not to show any nervousness about her curtsey. It had certainly taken him aback. She hadn't seemed to hear his words.

  Her eyes locked onto his still, she thought she found her voice, but it barely came out and she had to start twice at her words, ”It's so --nice –it's so nice, to finally meet you. I've been looking forward to this, as well as hoping to make a good impression upon you-- and to know you better.”

  “I feel much the same way,” he said. He found himself a little nervous about this business of finding a wife and hoped this interview would go better than the last. He defied a desire to be gentle with her and told himself he must put hard questions to her... just as he had done on the first interview, in an effort to be fair. She looked as frightened as a lost child.

  She was so stunned by his good looks and... something more than that... his command of presence. She nervously took a few steps and entered the small parlor where he had motioned for her to sit. She dared not do anything to displease him and yet, she felt she was taking in everything about him as well. She reminded herself she did not have to accept this man even if he accepted her. It was true, her future at times seemed a little bleak and she was now alone in the world but for a few close friends and neighbors from her parish. She led an independent life and did not consider herself close enough to Lady Victoria to feel a part of her world. Being able to move forward and perhaps become a wife and mother and have a family of her own someday seemed to hinge perhaps, on the outcome of this interview.

  She said nothing and waited for him, standing perfectly still, taking in the view of the room a little. She felt small beside him. Her insides were dancing like butterflies and it was all she could do to keep from swooning. She hadn't expected him to be quite so handsome nor to be so taken in by his presence. He seemed so... in charge, in more than of just the interview, she thought silently.

  “Please, make yourself comfortable,” he said, motioning to the seats about the drab, yet somehow cheerful parlor with the window facing the country road and the meadow beyond.

  She looked about the room more clearly and then studied his face again, trying to memorize the lines in his forehead and the traces of crow's feet at his eyes, his sandy colored blond hair parted on one side, his strong face and chiseled jaw. With a peculiar look on her face and one corner of her mouth turning up sweetly and an innocent look upon her face, she admitted, “I think I am too nervous to sit.”

  He smiled and said, “I will try not to make you nervous then. You may stand if you like.”

  “Where do you prefer to sit, Sir?”

  He thought very ironically that based on his last interview, he was going to like this young lady before him very much indeed. “There,” he said, indicating his chair. She called him, Sir. He'd often heard respectable ladies call their husbands that.

  “Well then, I shall prefer the chair beside yours.” She then gracefully walked to the chair beside his, turned, and stood in front of it to sit down. As she did so, she placed her hat on the little table between the chairs and then she reached up to her hair and removed a mother of pearl clasp and several pins. This let all of her hair tumble down and she let it cascade about her shoulders and down her back. She felt for the edge of the chair with the back of her right leg and finding it, she used her fingertips to locate the arm and gently lowered herself into the chair as ladies are taught to do, without having to turn and look behind her. “I thought the one thing you might like to see is the way my hair would be on our wedding night, should we marry.”

  She'd managed to succeed in sweeping all of the questions he had thought to ask her right out of his mind. He found himself somewhat unprepared for how she made him feel. He was not nearly as composed at that moment as he had been on the first interview.

  Chapter 5. William Makes His Choice

  He blinked, barely believing he'd had the good fortune to find the gem standing before him. He felt pleased by her honesty, cheerfulness, her uncanny ability to light up the whole room. He could tell she was proceeding with a great deal of caution, but there was something else there... a great deal of hope and innocence in her eyes and in her warm smile.

  He found his voice and said in a deep but barely audible voice to both of them, “I would like your hair worn down like that very much...” His voice trailed off. Then he suddenly found his thoughts again and cleared his throat, clasped his hands behind his back and turned, to pace slowly and walk as he talked. He always did his best talking and thinking while walking. Somehow, he didn't think this interview was going to be anything like Miss Martin's had been.

  When he cleared his throat, she took it as a signal that her interview was to formally begin. She sat up very straight on the edge of the chair with a very straight back, as well bred ladies are taught to do. She did not cross her ankles but placed them to one side and folded her hands in her lap. He did not miss anything she had done and watched her as he paced, glancing at her frequently until she was very nervous again and weak in her stomach. She was very glad she hadn't eaten anything but a scone for breakfast. She slowly began loosening her gloves as he paced, trying to begin the interview.

  “Why do you wish to marry, Miss Benningham?” he inquired before she had yet fully finished removing her second glove.

  “I've always known I would marry someday, and sooner than later. I was born to be a wife and a mother,” she replied, with conviction in her voice, her eyes lighting up at his question, all of her fears leaving her at once.

  “So then would I be your first marriage offer?” he inquired.

  “No,” she replied. “I have had a few offers of marriage.”

  “How many, exactly?” he asked.

  “Three,” she replied.

  “Three before the age of nineteen,” he repeated. “Have you refused them all then? Why?”

  “Well, the first offer came when I was but fifteen. My father did not give his consent. He felt I was too young and the gentleman, not in my best interests.”

  “Why was he not in your best interests-- according to your father? Were you in love?”

  “No, I was not in love, though at the time, I thought I could have easily fallen in love. My father and I both ultimately felt the gentleman was too old for me and would not have been ….faithful. I would have been little more than a mere trophy to him, for a temporal time. My loyalty would not have been reciprocated for long.”

  “Was he of the peerage?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who was he then?”

  “Are you familiar with the Duke of Morlinger?”

  He tread carefully. “I know of him. I believe he is married. Some say he has had two mistresses in these past four years.”

  “My father was correct then
to refuse him. I suppose I am a hopeless romantic, hoping for fidelity and love in marriage. I wouldn't have met him except that I had been invited to one of the Baron's Christmas balls, before his passing.”

  “Aye!” he said firmly. He had stopped pacing and was looking down at her very directly and not pacing. She clearly had his full attention. She was wondering how he, being a simple farmer, could have any knowledge of the Duke's private behaviors. Then again, maybe he had connections of some sort. He certainly did not seem like any ordinary farmer. She concluded he must have a very large farm and at least some distant connections to the peerage.

  “Who asked you to marry next, and when?”

  “When I was seventeen... a Viscount Adam Barton asked my father for my hand in marriage.”

  “And why did you refuse him?”

  “I did not know him very well, having met him briefly on only three occasions. He had not asked me first, nor considered my feelings, nor taken time to get to know me first. But something else concerned me more deeply in that there was no 'spark' of anything between us-- at least for myself. I just couldn't see myself married to him.”

  “What did your father say to this?”

  “He wanted my happiness and agreed with my thoughts. He left the decision entirely to me. He had said it was a good offer but I hesitated.”

  “Did you then attempt to have a courtship with Viscount Barton?”

  “No... after considering the match further, I felt we were not suited to each other.”

  “Who was the third proposal from?” Alexandra's shoulders sank a little with William's abrupt line of questioning. He seemed to be firing questions at her faster than her head could think.

  She paused and drew in a deep breath. Then she continued, “A neighbor by the name of Jackson Fields, not of the peerage, but of great promise agriculturally speaking. I was barely eighteen and father felt Jackson was not … established well enough to provide for me. Mr. Fields was only twenty and I found myself not in love, though I admit, at one time, there was some attraction there.”

  “So your father wanted you to marry someone of the peerage, like himself?”

  “Not necessarily. In Mr. Fields case, he had not proven himself as a farmer for very long. He was still young, and I younger. I've grown up in a quiet, country parish. Mr. Fields was and remains to this day, very much a part of that community. Father might have been amenable to the match. Whether or not my future husband could provide for me and if we shared the same faith, were among my father's primary concerns as they would have played a large role in my continued happiness. It might have been better for a vicar's daughter to marry a peer perhaps, but my happiness has always, had always been,” she corrected herself, “my father's main concern beyond financial matters.”

  The Duke was still standing, this time, feet apart, planted firmly on the floor, staring very hard at her. He said nothing for what seemed too long and then finally, very flatly, “I see.” She remained quiet. She knew he was thinking.

  “How well do you know the Baroness?”

  “I suppose as well as could be expected since father had the living for a number of these many years. She has often required our attendance or by invitation, included my father and me in various social events.”

  “Do you prefer her company?”

  Alexandra did not know how to answer. She looked at her hands as she thought how she should answer him. If she told the truth, it might not come out quite right. If she lied... well, one was never safe in a lie. If she could not trust her future husband with the truth though, who could she trust? She would have to take a chance and tell him the truth. “This is not an easy question. I hope I can trust you to keep my answer between us.”

  He nodded his agreement to her request, “Of course.”

  “I do not necessarily prefer her company. She has been kind to us, my father and me. She can be a very difficult person to please.”

  His presence was commanding, even a little intimidating. He seemed well educated. She could not imagine anyone telling him what to do. He did, however, seem warm and easy to converse with. She thought perhaps the advertisement should have read: successful farmer... rather than 'humble farmer.'

  “Can you cook, bake, clean, sew, manage the household affairs... and work hard?” He asked, turning to look out of the window as he spoke and then turning back to hear her answer.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Please continue.”

  “I do enjoy all of those things. I have been caring for my father since the age of thirteen and have learned a great deal about managing a household.”

  “You had no servants then?”

  “No Sir, a lad to help now and then is all.”

  “Not even a maid to help you with the cooking and cleaning? Someone to do your hair, the laundering, mending, the linens?” He asked.

  “Oh no,” she replied, shaking her head, chuckling. “I'm afraid a vicar's salary leaves only room enough for the absolute necessities.”

  “That must have been very hard.”

  “At first perhaps, when my mother passed. I did the best I could to manage, after that. Fortunately my mother had taught me how to cook, bake, how to clean, how to sew...many things I learned from my mother. I miss her dreadfully at times.” She looked down at her hands again, then at his feet. She could not look him in the eye for some of his questions were very hard on her. “Yes, I suppose it was very hard at first. Managing without servants, without my mother, being so young, yes I do think it was much more of a strain in the beginning. But it kept me busy and helped me work through the grief from the loss of her in our lives. I guess it's all I've ever known to work hard.” she replied quietly. “Jake, our stable hand, who has been on loan from Lady Dresden, does all sorts of odd jobs. He will run errands or fetch heavy items, hitch up the curricle, tend the animals; help with the gardening...carry water from the well. I do my best to manage when he isn't available. I'm used to my routine now, and a great many to do lists, to keep me organized.”

  “What do you like to cook or bake?” he inquired, curiously, shifting his feet, thinking it better to change the subject. He had perhaps been too hard on her but how else was he to get to know this delightful creature before him?

  She smiled and her eyes lit up, “I like to bake pies. I am best with pies. Pumpkin, blackberry, cherry, apple... whatever you might like. I bake cakes, tarts and breads. I have a good recipe for apple bread and another for apple fritters. My orange bread fetches complements at times.” She paused. He seemed to want her to continue. “We've always had our own kitchen garden. I really enjoy working in the garden and raising much of our own food. I also make a splendid custard and have mastered a plum pudding and a bread pudding. I have my mother's recipe for a delicious rice pudding as well. I think I've begun to perfect it.”

  “Please continue,” he nodded, all ears.

  “I make roasted chicken or turkey, roast beef, a delicious kidney pie... so many other things.”

  “Very good,” he said, realizing how hungry he was growing.

  “I also sew much of my own clothing. You will not have to buy me fancy frocks and dresses,” she added. “Unless of course you choose to do so. I won't turn pretty dresses away,” she smiled. Perhaps she had been impertinent. She hadn't meant to infer he was incapable of providing for her, nor that she would be incapable of sewing a much needed garment.

  Still, he gave her none of the information she yearned for. Instead he turned the conversation yet again by asking about her education. “You had a governess for a few years. Tell me about that.”

  “The Baron, you see, before his death, was quite generous to allow me to study under the guidance of a governess which he provided. I was about twelve. I think the Baron had taken a liking to our family when he gave my father the living. Had my governess not been there for me during the loss of my mother, I do not know how I would have gone on...”