by M C Beaton
She froze on the threshold of her room as hundreds of pairs of eyes stared back at her. The knife boy had surpassed himself. There were hens on the mantle-shelf and ducks on the bed. A brace of pheasants stared at her curiously from the armchair and several pigeons roosted on the windowsill. The floor was covered with cackling, hissing, and screeching birds—a feathery sea of geese, hens, pigeons, grouse and pheasants. Mrs. Lawton screamed and screamed as the whole feathery flock disturbed by the noise rose as one bird to make their escape. Screaming and flailing her arms, she backed along the corridor as the heavy flap of wings beat about her head.
She ran headlong down the main staircase… and then stopped.
The Duchess of Westerland was standing at the foot of the stairs, looking up at her with a cold hard stare. Mrs. Lawton suddenly realized that she was as much terrified of the little Duchess as she was of the squawking, flapping birds and sank down on the stairs and burst into tears.
The servants had all come running into the hall, drawn by her frantic screams. Some ran about trying to catch the birds, some fell back before the small figure of the Duchess and tried to disappear back to the kitchen quarters, and other members of the female staff stood and screamed and held up their skirts.
The great door crashed open and the Duke and Chuffy stood on the threshold, looking as if they couldn’t believe their eyes.
Frederica came to life. “Oh, Chuffy, I am so glad you are come,” she cried, throwing herself into the large gentleman’s arms. Chuffy rolled his eyes towards the Duke for help and the Duke gently disengaged Frederica’s arms from Chuffy, feeling desolately that he had indeed left things too late.
“Chuffy! Go and find out who is behind this rumpus and dismiss who you will. I must talk to my wife.”
Chuffy hurried off and the Duke kept a firm hold of Frederica who was trying to break away. He led her into the long drawing room, noticing with fury that it was as cold as the day outside and that the hearth was black and empty.
He drew the struggling girl onto his knee on one of the Chesterfields and held her hands. “Frederica,” he said. “Please listen to me. I was wrong. Wrong all along. It was Jack Ferrand who was trying to come between us. And I was so angry because… because I love you so much.”
Frederica became suddenly still. “My dear,” he went on. “I will not force myself on you. I said it should be a marriage of convenience and so it shall remain, if you wish it. I certainly did not think I should fall in love… but there it is.”
They sat motionless. He was frightened to look at her face. The setting sun blazed across the snow outside and lit the enormous room with a fiery glow. Frederica gently laid her head on his shoulder like a weary child. “I love you so much,” she whispered. “I began to think you would never love me back. In fact I began to think you hated me.…” His lips closed over hers as the fiery sunset died away and long shadows began to creep across the room.
At last she drew away a little and began to tell him her story in a faltering voice, of her escape from the Comte, of the fear she once had that he wanted to divorce her and marry Clarissa.
“Clarissa!” he cried, pulling her into his arms again. “That hell cat was working for Jack Ferrand. You shall never see her again, Frederica.”
Frederica gave a little sigh of relief and turned her face up to his. His kisses became more violent and both found that they were beginning to tremble with passion and cold.
He released her and laughed. “What a curst cold place to make love. Come let us find somewhere warmer.”
She shyly put her hand in his and he led her towards the door.
Chuffy had dismissed the Lawtons but they were waiting outside the door to plead their case with the Duke who would surely not listen to a wife he so despised.
The drawing room door swung open and the Duke and Duchess emerged, gazing into each others’ eyes. Like sleepwalkers they moved slowly across the hall towards their private apartments.
When they had disappeared, Chuffy grinned at the Lawtons. “Well, there’s your answer.” With bowed heads, the Lawtons left to attend to their packing.
Chuffy ate his dinner that evening in a solitary state as neither the Duke nor the Duchess showed any signs of joining him.
Later he leaned his large elbows on his windowsill to breath in the cold night air. The rumble of a masculine voice came from Frederica’s room, which was beneath his. It was answered by a rippling laugh from Frederica. Chuffy had never heard her sound so happy. With one great sentimental sigh, he closed the window, blew out the candle and climbed into bed.
