“What happened to her?”
“She became pregnant and had complications before the birth.”
“You have got to be kidding me?” Robert thrust his hand through his hair in astonishment. “You mean she actually became pregnant after all that time?”
Jolene nodded.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Father will shit when he hears that news.”
If she could have raised her brow any higher in disapproval over his language, Jolene would have. Another character note, she mused, cannot stop swearing in front of the ladies. Noticing her disapproving scowl, he quickly apologized.
“God, I’m sorry,” he said grimacing. “My language…”
She narrowed her eyes at him, but her words were lighthearted. “So I hear.”
“Then what happened?” Robert leaned forward.
“My stepfather legally adopted me. When he passed away a few months ago, I inherited the title and all of his estate.” Jolene hesitated to tell Robert the full terms of the disbursement.
“Well, regardless of the circumstances, I’m happy that your life has been blessed,” he replied.
“I’m thankful, too, but I have a confession.”
“What’s that?”
“That I’ve always had this sense of not belonging. Though my stepfather was a kind and gracious man, I’ve been haunted as long as I can remember about my heritage.” Jolene sighed wondering if Robert could understand. “Jacquelyn always told the story that my real father had died in a tragic accident. Frankly, after she died, in my own mind I was nothing more than an orphan.”
A sympathetic gaze met Jolene’s eyes. “If you want to know anything about your real father, I can tell you what I know and remember. He saved my mother’s disgrace and raised me in love until...”
Robert looked at her in the strangest way. He lowered his eyes, shook his head, and then chuckled. “Until I shoved over your bassinet in a fit of jealousy when you were three months old.”
The laughter that spilled out of Jolene’s mouth filled the small pub. Every person’s head turned in their direction. Embarrassed, she brought her hand to her mouth and held it there until she could control herself. Robert’s eyes twinkled in response.
“Grace was right. You are a rascal,” she said, still chuckling under her breath.
Neither of them could stop laughing over the funny story. It felt as if they had found an oasis of relief from their painful conversation. Jolene’s affection for Robert welled in her heart. She saw the same sentiments in his eyes.
“So did you get a whipping?” Jolene figured as much.
Robert put his hand on his backside in jest. “God yes, I can still feel the belt on my behind.”
After a few moments of smiling at one another, Jolene turned her thoughts to Philippe. She did want to know about him. In fact, her heart yearned to know more than she cared to know of Suzette.
“I plan to go to Paris after the season ends and search for him, Robert.”
“That’s probably wise. Frankly, I hope he is still alive so that he can finally see you again. Mother carries a lot of guilt over how your loss nearly destroyed him.”
Suzette again. Would she ever think kindly of her?
“Come with me.” The words flew out of her mouth. Robert sat straight up in his chair over the invitation. “I mean it, Robert. I’ll pay for everything, just come.”
“Are you sure that you want me to accompany you?” He reached over and touched her hand lightly.
A broad smile spread across Jolene’s face, and a burden that had pressed upon her heart felt lighter. “Very sure,” she replied.
They spent the next half an hour chatting. Robert told her what he remembered about Philippe and how he had married their mother to save her reputation. When he came to the duel, Jolene gasped. She had not yet come that far in Dorcas’ diary to read anything about a duel, which she omitted from her letter.
“Oh, my God, Philippe tried to kill your father?”
Robert shook his head as if he could not believe it himself. “Yes, father shot him in the shoulder after Philippe missed.”
“Unbelievable.” Jolene was awestruck over the tale of revenge. She chuckled. “Who would believe such a mess?”
Robert’s countenance changed. His voice softened. “I’m glad you have found us after all these years. If it were not for that deathbed confession, we would have never learned of your fate.”
“I think fate has returned me for a reason.”
“What are your plans to tell my parents? Do you wish me to say anything?”
“No, please say nothing. If all works out, I want to bring all of them together—your father, mother, and Philippe and then tell them at once.”
“My goodness,” Robert said in astonishment, leaning back in his chair. “You have thoughtfully planned this out, haven’t you?”
Jolene shook her head. “Yes, but that depends upon whether I can find Philippe. Hopefully, he is still alive.”
Robert thought for a moment. “You know, my father may have kept track of his whereabouts. Let me see if he knows anything.”
“Oh, that would be wonderful,” she exclaimed. Jolene glanced at her watch. “Oh, dear, I’m supposed to be back at the Whitefields at three o’clock. I’m having tea with your aunt and mother.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want to keep you from that affair,” he smirked. Robert rose from his seat and helped Jolene from her chair.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you that Grace will be contacting you about coming with us to the Tower of London tomorrow.” Jolene took his arm as he led her out the door. “Do be kind to the girl, won’t you?”
Robert cocked his head to the right as if he misheard her comment. Jolene merely smiled, hoping that perhaps one day he would notice sweet Grace.
Chapter 13
Tea for Five
Jolene arrived at the Whitefields at two-thirty. It was barely enough time to change into a casual day dress and freshen up before tea. As much as she had enjoyed lunch with Robert, she scowled at the thought of seeing his mother. For some reason, it felt more comfortable to refer to her as “his mother” or the duchess. She had not arrived at a point of endearment to think of her as anything else.
When three o’clock arrived, she slowly descended the stairs inhaling a deep breath for fortitude. As she reached the foyer below, she heard voices in the parlor. She straightened her spine, lifted her chin and entered. Everyone had arrived, including Grace, who flashed a forced smile in captivity.
“Oh, you are here.” Lady Whitefield greeted her arrival, rising to her feet. “You remember Lady Chambers and the duchess.”
“Yes, of course. It’s a pleasure to see you again.” Marguerite Chambers did not impress her either with her pretentious airs.
Jolene took a seat near Grace where she would feel more at ease, who awkwardly opened up the discussion.
“So how was your lunch with Lord Holland?”
Jolene parted her lips to respond to her question, but the duchess interrupted.
“Oh, Robert didn’t tell me that he was having lunch with you.”
Slowly turning her head in her direction, Jolene nodded in affirmation. “Yes, he had some questions to ask me about the Spanish Riding School in Vienna.” She smiled and gritted her teeth at the same time. Lying had never been easy for Jolene, but she could not tell her the truth.
“I’m not surprised. He loves horses,” the duchess replied.
The footman arrived with tea on a silver tray along with a few lemon bars and other delicacies. The conversation momentarily ceased until everyone had their bone china in hand and cups full. Jolene wished it were a strong brew of coffee instead.
“Well, now, isn’t this pleasant,” Lady Whitefield announced, looking quite pleased with her roomful of ladies. She glanced at each of them with satisfaction.
Lady Chambers took the lead by turning her attention upon Jolene. “It was a pleasure having you attend the ball. Did you enjoy yourself?�
�
“Yes, I found it most enjoyable. By the time we returned and I climbed into bed, my poor feet were throbbing from having danced so much.”
“My son mentioned that you dance divinely,” Geoffrey’s mother said, leaning forward.
Jolene purposely hesitated before answering by taking a sip of tea. Slowly, she set the cup down in the saucer enjoying her control over the conversation. She glanced at Lady Chambers, who waited for a positive statement regarding her son. Finally, she relented and gave her what she wanted.
“Well, let me say,” she began, fluttering her eyelashes, “that I found your son to be marvelous in his footwork. A few times he twirled me around so fast it made me dizzy, but I kept up with his enthusiasm.”
Grace chuckled. “I can attest to the fact because Robert and I tried to waltz alongside of them, and it proved to be impossible.”
It would have helped the conversation if Grace spoke up more often, but Jolene had the feeling she would not come to her rescue at every turn.
“How long are you staying in London?” Lady Chambers continued to lead the conversation.
Before responding, she glanced at the duchess who appeared unusually quiet. Her body language betrayed her awkwardness amongst a group of women. Has she always been such a timid creature? Jolene thought.
“Until June and then I travel to Paris,” Jolene finally answered.
As soon as she mentioned Paris, the duchess visually straightened her slumped shoulders. She appeared to have more pride in her background than in her title of a duchess in England.
“Have you visited Paris before?” A gleam in her eyes returned.
“No, this will be my first visit, except for merely changing trains at the station. Truth be told, I have never left Austria. My stepfather, the count, was heavily involved in affairs of state. Opportunities to travel outside the country were set aside.”
“Such a shame,” the duchess replied. “I’m sure you will love Paris.”
“Do you miss your homeland?” She had asked the question once before when they first met. Would she now confess the truth?
Suzette shifted uncomfortably in her seat. After taking a quick sip of tea, she answered. “My parents are buried in France. If I miss anything, it is visiting their graves and paying my respect,” she said in a low voice.
Her response took Jolene off guard. Already she had judged the woman as a cruel home breaker. She had not expected her to speak of her dead parents with such sentiment. Then, as if a cool sense of reality washed over her, she angrily wondered if she missed her lost Parisian daughter. She clenched her teeth to keep her mouth shut and closed her eyes for a moment to take her gaze off the duchess. Why did she feel such anger toward the mother she always wanted?
Finally, she opened her eyes. They shifted from Grace, to Lady Whitefield, and Lady Chambers. They appeared baffled over her moment of discomposure. She inhaled a deep breath and cast a curious gaze at the duchess to hide the disappointment in her heart.
“You know, I love stories, and enjoy asking couples how they met.” She looked pointedly into the duchess’ eyes. “I’m curious how a French lady came about marrying an English duke. You must have a fascinating romance story.” Jolene knew she had asked a cruel question. When the blood drained from the duchess’ face, her sister-in-law cleared her throat and came to the rescue.
“Our family owned a townhome in Paris. We often spent time there.” She glanced at the duchess as much to say that she would handle the question. “My brother met her during one of his frequent visits to Paris, I believe at the horse races. Isn’t that right?”
The duchess kept her attention upon her sister-in-law rather than answering directly to Jolene. “Yes, quite right. He loved the races.”
Lady Chambers’ confident look that she had saved family’s reputation, annoyed Jolene. Tea for five had turned into an uncomfortable event, so she reached for a lemon cake and shoved it in her mouth to shut herself up. As she was munching the tasty treat, Grace must have noticed her unease. Finally, she turned the conversation in another direction.
“We’re off to the Tower of London tomorrow to take the komtesse on a tour of the city. It should be fun, though the atmosphere at the Tower gives me the chills. All I envision are heads being chopped off.” She scrunched her shoulders and shuddered.
“Heads being chopped off?” Jolene knew the barbaric moments of English history but played along.
“So many poor women sent to their death,” Lady Whitefield lamented. “Queen Anne Boleyn, Katherine Howard, Lady Jane Grey, and that poor woman, the Countess of Salisbury.”
Impressive list of names, Jolene thought, but she had not heard about the countess. Naturally, by her title alone, she wanted to hear the morbid tale. “Why do you say the poor countess?”
Lady Chambers interjected with the gory details. “The executioner missed on the first blow and hit her shoulder instead. The story is that she jumped up from the block and ran away. The executioner went after her with the axe. He hacked at her eleven times before he finally brought her down.”
“Oh, dear God,” Jolene moaned. “How utterly brutal.” She looked at the tasty treats that remained, including cherry tarts. “I think I’ll pass on the cherry pastries after that story.” The levity helped, and the women laughed.
“Well, tomorrow Geoffrey, the komtesse, Robert, and I shall be climbing in and out of the towers. I for one shall spare myself from entering the torture chamber.”
Jolene glanced at her mother, who remained silent with an uncomfortable look upon her face. A fleeting thought of making a statement about the French and their guillotines might prove jovial, but she decided to forgo placing her under further scrutiny. Though she wrestled with her emotions regarding the duchess, she would try her best to give her the respect she deserved…if she could.
“Geoffrey did mention to me that he thought it would be nice if you could visit our country manor so that he might take you to Windsor Castle.” Lady Chambers pulled her attention back toward her son. “I was disappointed to hear that you will not be able to join us.”
“As much as I appreciate the invitation, I do have pressing business I must attend to in Paris. I cannot put it off any longer.”
“Such a shame,” she responded, lowering her head in disappointment.
The thought of spending time at their manor estate felt disconcerting. Not because of the company she would keep, but the likelihood that Geoffrey Chambers could ruin her reputation. She had never felt the attraction of a man before. It would be so easy to lose her good sense in his arms. Moreover, if he ever kissed her—well, if that happened there would be no hope for her redemption.
Chatter continued between the ladies over trivial subjects. As she continued to interact with the duchess, her heart remained unmoved by her personality and close proximity. Would she ever feel an ounce of affection for the woman who supposedly gave her life? She certainly could not force affection from her heart, but maybe in time it would grow.
* * * *
After the guests departed, Jolene retired to her room to relax before dinner at eight o’clock. The time spent in the duchess’ presence spurred her to pick up the diary and start reading again. After moving through five years of sadness, Dorcas mentioned a trip to Paris with her husband.
My mistress sat quietly while I brushed her hair this evening. I asked her if she enjoyed her walk with the duke today in the park. She told me of a man and little boy they had met along the way. The child was five years old with blond hair and blue eyes. She thought nothing of it until the boy’s father told the duke that the boy’s mother had died. The young lad’s name was Robert, and the duchess expressed how uncanny his features were like those of her husband’s.
Jolene stopped reading and thought for a moment. Her family history had turned into an epic puzzle with pieces scattered everywhere. Why had Philippe told the duke that Suzette had died? Obviously, in spite of the boy’s appearance, the duke had been kept in the dar
k regarding Robert’s existence.
“Oh, this is frustrating,” Jolene spat. She slammed the book down on the bed and rose to walk over to the window. How long would it take to complete the picture of the past? There were still large unread portions of Dorcas’ entries. Perhaps a private detective could read it and summarize it for her. She chuckled at her foolish idea to soothe her momentary frustration.
Regardless of the lack of patience over not having the full story, today she had made progress. A smile replaced her disgruntled frown when she thought of Robert. It felt right to have a half brother, even if he did push her bassinet over in a fit of jealousy. The rascal, she thought.
One problem remained, though. How could she get him to Paris without their appearance together looking suspicious? There were still weeks ahead to figure out that dilemma, so she dismissed the worry.
Chapter 14
Off With Your Head!
The foursome arrived at the Tower midmorning. Grace was delighted to see that Robert strode by her side. Geoffrey insisted on offering his arm in escort, which Jolene accepted. The cobblestone pathways were uneven and the stairs up and through some of the towers narrow. She tried her best not to allow his magnetism take precedence over the infamous Tower of London.
As they walked through the gate, Yeoman Warders in Tudor State Dress greeted them. Outfitted in impressive uniforms of dark blue, red and gold trim, with hats, Jolene had no idea why they were nicknamed beefeaters. “What do the Yeoman do, just eat beef?” She shot a confused look at Geoffrey.
“Spoken like a true foreigner,” Robert said, giving her a playful look.
“Well, I am,” Jolene protested. “Stop teasing me and tell me if they just eat beef.”
Geoffrey and Robert burst out in a hearty laugh, while Grace at least had the decency to save her from her ignorant assumptions.
“They are not eaters of beef; it means beaufetiers who were royal servants that waited at the buffet while monarchy dined. It is a French term, but it has somehow been converted by the English over the centuries to beefeaters because they could not pronounce the word.”
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