Joe! Why had she called for Joe? Joe did not exist. There was no Joe, there was no Harrietta. Alas, for they might easily have forged a bond. The head groom and the piano player were they not of a more or less equal status?
“Joe, I am so thirsty,” groaned Henrietta.
There should have been a pitcher of water on her bedside table, but there was none.
She seemed to swim in and out of consciousness, and then her eyes were open as she heard another chime.
Half past four.
The urge to drink was now stronger than her sense of fatigue. With a great effort she swung her legs over the side of the bed. Missing the steps, she slid to the floor.
She hauled herself to her feet and staggered to the door of Nanny’s room. Nanny’s bed was empty, but she did not see that Nanny was asleep on the couch.
Henrietta turned away, her mind muddled.
She must find Nanny to fetch her a drink of water. Nanny would fetch Joe and Joe would hitch up the wagon. They would all travel to Lushwood together.
She staggered to the door, opened it and peered out along the silent corridor.
Then she stepped out.
In her delirium, she was now home at Lushwood, each door the door of a room she remembered.
She almost floated along the corridor and across the landing at the top of the silent staircase.
Henrietta glided into the corridor of the South wing and paused outside a nail studded oak door.
Mama’s room!
She turned the handle and sailed in.
A nightlight burned beside the bed, but the rest of the room was in shadow. A form lay curled under the red counterpane.
On a table at the foot of the bed stood a pitcher of water and a glass.
Henrietta crossed the room eagerly, stumbling into a chair and knocking it clean over as she did so.
“What on earth!”
The form in the bed sat upright with a jolt. Bedcap askew, grey hair instead of black protruding from under its brim, it was no wonder that she did not instantly recognise Lady Butterclere.
Instead she pointed at the pitcher of water.
“I-I want a d-drink,” she explained disingenuously.
“A likely story!” roared Lady Butterclere, thrusting her feet out of bed and fumbling for her dressing gown. “I know what you were up to, my girl. You’ve blundered into my room, but you were looking for the Duke.”
“Joe,” mumbled Henrietta, a strange blur forming before her eyes.
“Oh, Joe, is it? It’s got that far, has it?”
Lady Butterclere, her dressing gown belt trailing on the ground, came looming at Henrietta.
“You wretched, wretched creature,” she hissed into her face. “I shall see that you are ruined for this.”
“R-ruined?” repeated Henrietta dazedly.
“Ruined, ruined, one thousand times over,” intoned Lady Butterclere, reaching for the servants’ bell.
She gave it such a vigorous tug that the cord almost came away in her hand.
“What is it, just what is the matter?”
Romany came rushing into the room.
“What’s she doing here?” she gaped.
“Just wait till I tell you,” sneered Lady Butterclere.
Henrietta could hear her through a haze. Her mind wandered and she thought again of Nanny.
“I m-must go,” she moaned, turning to the door.
“Oh, no you don’t!”
Lady Butterclere caught hold of her by the elbow and, steering her to a chair, pushed her firmly down.
When she tried to rise, Lady Butterclere whipped the belt off her dressing gown and, teeth tightly gritted, tied Henrietta’s wrists to the wooden arms.
Romany’s eyes grew wide.
“I say isn’t that rather excessive?”
“You think so?” Lady Butterclere rounded on her with an air of triumph. “What do you think she was up to? She was looking for the Duke’s chamber, that’s what. In her nightdress! And when I caught her, her only excuse was that she was looking for a drink of water!”
“Scandalous!” exploded Romany.
Casting around her furiously, she saw the pitcher of water and took it up.
“There! There’s water for you,” she cried, tossing its contents fully into Henrietta’s face.
Henrietta, utterly bewildered, gazed up at Romany through dripping curls.
“What is going on here?”
The Duke, his features twisted in rage, towered at the door.
“Your Grace!”
Lady Butterclere, bobbing a quick curtsy, gestured to Romany to remain silent.
“I had to bind Miss Reed and then dash water into her face to quell her! She was in such a wild fury after I apprehended her in her efforts to find your chamber. I did not summon you, as I wished to spare you the spectacle.”
The Duke brushed Lady Butterclere to one side and strode over to Henrietta. Her head lolled now, strands of wet hair falling over her face.
The Duke clenched his jaw.
“Untie her!” he commanded.
“Well, of course, if you insist.” Lady Butterclere hastened to loosen the belt about Henrietta’s wrists.
“Though to my mind she should be chastised ”
“Should she indeed,” replied the Duke, helping the freed Henrietta to her feet.
“And then sent packing,” insisted Lady Butterclere. “She is a a gold digger. You do not see that.”
“I see that she is ill,” said the Duke grimly, pressing a hand to Henrietta’s forehead.
Lady Butterclere pursed her lips.
“Not so ill that she could just wander half-clad about the corridors! Suppose she had blundered into the wing where the Prince of Wales sleeps? You just imagine the scandal! And stepbrother, do you not ask yourself, why? What intention had she other than seduction? And who was her quarry, dear stepbrother, if not you? Who?”
The Duke wavered. His shoulders sagged and his hand dropped to his side.
When he saw a maid, summoned by the bell, appear anxiously in the doorway, he beckoned her wearily over.
“Would you please escort Miss Reed here back to her room,” he ordered.
The maid took her arm and led her away. Henrietta cast a beseeching and bewildered glance at the Duke as she was hurried by, but he had turned his face away.
“I did believe you would see sense,” crowed Lady Butterclere with barely concealed triumph.
The Duke turned for a moment to look at Henrietta as she disappeared through the door.
“Nevertheless, we will summon the doctor in the morning,” he insisted.
“Oh, it won’t be necessary, I assure you,” chimed in Lady Butterclere. “She will recover quick enough when she realises how she is exposed. Lord, stepbrother, you are a real innocent in the matter of young women. You should have seen how she carried on aboard The Boston Queen.”
Henrietta, propelled along the corridor by the maid, heard these words fade out behind her, but could make no sense of them in her fevered condition.
“What’s up, Harrie?”
Eddie, en route to his room after a long card game in the servants hall, narrowed his eyes with concern at the sight that approached him.
“I’m ordered to take her to her bed, sir,” gloated the maid. “She’s been a bad girl.”
Eddie put a hand under Henrietta’s chin and lifted her now lolling head.
“Harrie?” he questioned with concern.
“F-find P-Poody,” was all Henrietta could reply.
“I’ll take her from here, thank you.” Eddie waved his hand at the maid.
“But I was ordered!” spluttered the maid.
“Well, I’m ordering different!”
Eddie encircled Henrietta’s tiny waist with his arm, and carried her down the corridor towards the West wing.
Nanny came bursting through from her room when she heard Eddie kick open Henrietta’s door.
“I woke up and found her gone!” she cried, rushing tea
rfully towards them. “Where has she been?”
“I’m not rightly sure, Mrs. Poody.”
Nanny put a hand to Henrietta’s brow.
“She’s feverish!” she exclaimed.
“She doesn’t seem herself at all,” agreed Eddie.
“I’ll get her into bed now and in the morning I’ll have a doctor fetched.”
Eddie looked unhappy.
“The orchestra is due to leave Merebury tomorrow. I know she’s not going to be performing with us again, but I’d sure hate to leave her behind. I don’t know, but I feel there’s some ill wind blowing in this place.”
Nanny was too busy settling Henrietta into bed to hear Eddie’s last sentence.
“If you have to leave without us, then so be it,” she said. “Although I would have preferred to travel with you all. It has been such fun.”
Eddie gave one rueful glance back and departed.
*
It was five o’clock in the morning, and seven, and eight each chime coming faintly to Henrietta’s ear.
It was day, but the moon did not go away. It came right in the window to hover over her bed. Only it had a ruddy face and it spoke.
It felt her pulse and put a stethoscope to her breast and shook its head.
“Tut tut,” the moon gurgled.
It shook a bottle and poured liquid into a spoon that was held at her lips and the liquid trickled down her throat.
After that, she slept and slept and slept.
She did not see the faces of Eddie and Kitty loom briefly over her to murmur goodbye nor hear the rumble of wheels lurching off for the station at Liverpool.
She did not hear, later, the ceremonious departure of the Prince of Wales and his retinue.
She did not register the deep silence that seemed to settle over Merebury, nor the sky growing ever blacker.
Only once did she swim into consciousness, and it was then she glimpsed a tall figure standing with his elbow on the mantelpiece, staring gloomily into the fire.
“Joe?” she wondered aloud, but the sudden dash of hail against the casement window drowned her frail voice and the figure at the mantelpiece never turned his head.
CHAPTER NINE
All that night and during the following day, a storm raged without.
The wind howling down the chimney sounded like hungry wolves. The draught fanned the fire and shadowy flames danced madly on the ceiling.
Henrietta drifted in and out of consciousness. The doctor said that her nerves must indeed have been stretched to breaking point for her to succumb so totally to the fever.
“Rest will cure her sooner than my medicines,” he prognosticated.
Sure enough by evening, her temperature somewhat abated. She was able to sit up in bed and take a little broth.
Nanny blamed herself for ever allowing Henrietta to come to Merebury with the orchestra.
“It’s all been too much for you,” she sighed,
“It doesn’t matter, Nanny,” she murmured, her eyes closed. “It’s been a-an experience.”
“An experience that has made you ill!”
“I’ll soon be well again, Nanny, and then we’ll set off for London.”
“The sooner the better,” grumbled Nanny.
She was growing increasingly uneasy at Merebury and did not want to tell Henrietta the reason, which was that Prince Vasily was now a guest here himself!
He had visited Lady Butterclere and her protégée yesterday, the day after the ball and when the weather grew stormy he was invited to stay the night.
“Have you finished that broth, my dear?”
“Y-yes, Nanny.”
“I’ll take the tray down myself. That little maid we have takes an age to answer the bell and then she always has an insolent air on her little pug face.”
She felt Nanny lift the tray and heard her hasten to the door. There was the squeak of the hinge and then low voices before the door was gently closed.
Someone had entered the room, however, as Nanny exited, as footsteps were crossing the room towards her.
After a long silence, Henrietta opened drowsy eyes.
There stood the Duke, his arms outstretched so that either hand rested on each of the two lower canopy posts.
“Mrs. Poody said you took some broth.”
“Y-yes, Your Grace.”
She had only a hazy memory of their last encounter, but she recalled that it had not been a happy one and was therefore perplexed to see him in her room.
Perhaps he wished to check on her progress, eager to have her away from Merebury and out of his life!
“I am sure I shall be well enough to leave soon.”
“Please do not think that is a prospect I anticipate with any great pleasure, Miss Reed.”
Henrietta’s pale brow creased wonderingly.
The Duke ran a hand through his hair.
“Last night,” he now began, “I did you a disservice, Miss Reed. I did allow myself to be persuaded that your nocturnal wandering was not for innocent reasons.”
Henrietta made as if to speak, but the Duke held up a silencing hand.
“I have come tonight to apologise for my error and to make it clear that the offer of my house in London still stands. I have already written to inform the servants that you and Mrs. Poody will be arriving sometime this week depending of course on your state of health.”
His gaze travelled from her eyes to her lips and then he suddenly turned violently away.
“Good God, if I could be but sure ”
“S-sure Your Grace?”
“Nothing. I am babbling, Miss Reed. Put it down to the trials and tribulations of throwing a ball. Followed by grave concern over the health of an esteemed guest.”
He strode to her side and lifted her hand to his lips.
“Now let me bid you goodnight. Sweet Harrietta.”
As she felt the Duke’s mouth on her skin, she gave a shudder.
He lifted his head and regarded her with dismay.
“You are still so feverish?”
She wondered that he did not read the yearning in her eyes.
“N-no, Your Grace. Just a little chill.”
The Duke stood for a moment, clasping her hand. Their eyes locked and their mutual breath became as one.
The window rattled at the mercy of a force without that seemed to echo the force they felt within the force that rises mercilessly in unguarded breasts and threatens to overthrow the stoutest heart.
The Duke’s grip tightened. It was as if he wished to crush Henrietta’s fingers to powder.
Her eyelids fluttered and a moan of ecstasy escaped her lips.
“Oh, God,” groaned the Duke.
He ripped his hand away, letting her own hand drop heavily onto the counterpane and strode to the door.
“Get well, Miss Reed,” he called huskily. “Get well and go to London. There we may develop this intercourse away from prying eyes and insinuating tongues.”
The door closed heavily behind him.
Henrietta’s heart took some minutes to return to its regular beat.
It was still racing when Nanny came in with grapes and a glass of hot lemon and sugar.
She propped herself up and gazed at the dancing fire. She could feel the pulse in her neck throbbing wildly.
“You’re still looking rather flushed, my dear,” said Nanny worriedly.
“It’s nothing, the heat of the fire that is all. Why don’t you go and lie down for a while now. I am fine.”
Nanny left her reluctantly and she snuggled against the pillows and stared dreamily ahead.
The Duke had reiterated the offer of his house in London and she and Nanny could stay there for a few days before venturing on to Lushwood, although she wondered how easy it would be for her to remain Harrietta Reed in a City where so many knew her as Henrietta Radford.
The idea that the Duke would come and visit her was exciting beyond measure.
Yet it did not seem quite right for him to
suggest it. He had seemed surprised, almost outraged, when she had enquired if Miss Foss would accompany him.
Did he intend to travel alone and did he intend his visits to be secret? If so, why?
And what did he mean when he mentioned ‘prying eyes and insinuating tongues?’
The casement window rattled again. In the hearth coals sizzled loudly as rain was blown down the chimney.
She shivered and drew the counterpane to her chin.
The door to her room creaked as it slowly opened and she could not see at first who had entered, although she heard footsteps cross the room.
Two figures came into view at the end of the bed.
It was Lady Butterclere with the pug-faced maid, grinning just like a malicious monkey behind the quivering bulk of her mistress.
Lady Butterclere’s eyes were slits of fury.
“What does this mean?” she screeched.
Henrietta was bewildered.
“W-what does what mean?”
“This, this!”
Lady Butterclere tapped a letter that lay folded on her palm.
“I d-don’t know. What is it?”
“What is it, what is it?” mocked the maid. “Lawks, your Ladyship, isn’t she a dizzembler. I’m glad I had the sense to deliver it to you and not to her.”
“Be quiet,” snapped Lady Butterclere.
“You don’t know what is written here?” she waved the letter at Henrietta.
“H-how can I? I have not even seen it until now.”
Lady Butterclere shook the letter open and began to read aloud.
“Dear Miss Reed, here is the address of my London property. The servants will endeavour to make your stay as comfortable as possible. I look forward to calling upon you as soon as I am able to travel to London. Meanwhile, I am at your devoted service until you leave Merebury.”
Lady Butterclere’s eyes almost bulged with outrage from their sockets as she went on,
“Yes, and there it is, written down as bold as brass. 40 Manchester Square. All the beds made up and all the silver polished for the arrival of the Duke’s hussy!”
Henrietta’s head swam.
“H-hussy?”
Lady Butterclere sneered.
“What else did you think you would be? His wife? Surely you just cannot be so naïve as to be unaware of the significance of the Duke’s offer? Manchester Square, my dear, is where he keeps his mistresses. And you are to be the next. For as long as you keep his interest, that is.”
The Keys of Love Page 12
