One dull September afternoon, Veronica took her usual seat by the window of the dining room and gazed ideally into the cloudy sky, which seemed to rise from the ground at the end of the estate. The frost that had developed during the cold of the previous night was now slowly retreating into water beneath the gentle warmth of the soft sun. On the tree to the left of the window, a gutsy spider busied itself in rebuilding its web, which had presumably been destroyed by the gardener, who made it his mission to destroy any and all spider webs he found on the property. For some reason, though, he never destroyed any actual spiders. Veronica suspected this was because he needed the spiders to keep him busy; if he killed those eight-legged annoyances, there would be no more spider webs for him to rid the manor of and so there would be less demand for his services, or so he thought. In reality, nowhere in the gardener's job description did it state that he was expected to remove spider webs. That was the duty of the maid. Nevertheless, Veronica did not interrupt the gardener when he came along to destroy this latest spider web. It was an interesting spectacle, which provided her with a minute or so of entertainment as she looked on from her spot behind the window. Besides, the maid was not exactly fulfilling her role. For the past number of weeks, it seemed as though the young maid was neglecting her duties. She seemed disinterested in her job and Veronica rarely encountered her as she journeyed throughout her home. What she did encounter, however, were spider webs and dust and a general filth, which on more than one occasion had caused the Duchess to fetch a rag and bucket of water and clean the manor herself.
Shortly after the gardener had disposed of the latest spider web on the first tree to the left of the window, Veronica's listless daydreams were interrupted by the sound of the front door opening. Her husband had left early that morning, probably to visit one of his many lovers, and was only now returning to the manor.
"Veronica!" he called as he shut the door behind him, the clicking of the rusted metal lock nearly overpowering the sound of his voice.
"I'm in the dining room, Edward" she replied before rising from her seat so she could greet the Duke upon his entrance. This was not something that he demanded, nor particularly desired, but Veronica had been raised to respect powerful men and so she always stood to greet her husband as he entered a room.
"Where did you go this morning?" she asked him as he removed his coat and placed it on the coat stand, which resided just inside the dining room door.
"I had a very important meeting, dear" replied Edward. He knew Veronica knew of his affairs with other women and some time ago the couple had silently agreed on using a "meeting" as some sort of code word, so neither of them would ever really have to acknowledge his blatant unfaithfulness.
"I want to talk to you about the maid" began Veronica, not taking a second to ask about her husband's "meeting".
"What about the maid?"
"I think we need to let her go. She has not done a scrap of work in weeks and I think it is entirely unfair that we are still paying her for her services."
"Marie is a hard worker" her husband replied in defence of the maid, "she has been with us for five years and has never failed us before.
"Marie? Why are you calling her by her first name?"
"Because she is a human being and deserves to be called by her first name."
Veronica could sense that something was not right. Though the Duke had never been one to create barriers between him and the help, he was extremely forgetful. The gardener, who had been staff at the manor since the day the couple made it their home, told Edward his name on what was an almost daily basis and still it remained in its cosy home on the tip of the Duke's tongue. The cook, who prepared exquisite cuisines for his employers three times daily had never been referred to by the right name by the man of the house and the poor butler had been forced to get used to being called "Francis" despite the fact his name was, and always had been, Craig. Why was the maid not being treated in a similar manner? It did not occur to Veronica that her husband may be having a relationship with the maid - she believed he knew better than to get involved with his own staff - but she knew there was something going on.
"You have never called any other member of the help by their first name" she said, challenging her husband to provide a better explanation for his actions.
"What are you talking about?" he replied, slightly surprised to hear this accusation, "What about Francis?"
In retrospect, it is unsurprising that the reason for Edward's unusual behaviour was that he was, in fact, involved in a love affair with the maid and had been for the past five months. While he was comfortable with his wife being aware of every single one of his other romantic conquests, the Duke did not want her to find out about his relationship with Marie. He knew that the news would only serve to throw her into a panic and send her off on an unfounded rant about how the maid was probably planning to use their affair to blackmail him and extort money from the couple. Yes, if Veronica found out about the affair, she would become insufferable until the exasperated Duke finally put an end to it, which was far more likely to lead to Marie blackmailing him.
"Speaking of the staff" Edward began in a transparent attempt to change the subject, "what is the cook preparing for dinner this evening?"
"I don't know. If you were aware of his name you could call it and ask him yourself."
"Veronica, I have just returned home and I am really not in the mood for an argument." Edward ran his hand through his hair, as he was prone to doing when angered, and turned away from his wife. Veronica had been married to him for long enough to know that this was a signal for her to leave. Whenever he turned his back to her, it was abundantly clear that he did not want to have any sort of conversation with her, argument or otherwise. Being the good, rule-abiding wife that she was, Veronica left her husband in the dining room and made her way to the chamber.
The chamber, which the married couple shared, was located on the third floor of the manor and was essentially the only room on the top floor which either of them made any use of. There were four other rooms on that floor, though all four were used only to store the many gifts and honours, which had been bestowed upon the Duke and Duchess over the past fifteen years. One room, the one which was located right beside the chamber, housed all the ornaments and furnishings left behind by the previous inhabitants of the manor which Edward and Veronica deemed unsavoury and not in keeping with either of their personal tastes. Veronica spent a great deal of her time in that chamber, reading novels and plays and collections of poetry. She loved to read. Sometimes it helped her escape her own life, other times it served to remind her that she was quite fortunate to be living her life inside the exquisite walls of that manor. On some occasions, reading made the Duchess long for that blissful first year of marriage, during which she had Edward all to herself. As mentioned before, Veronica was not overly disturbed by the affairs of the Duke, but she couldn't deny that she was much happier before he began loving other women. Back then, he was a generous and passionate lover who would pledge his life-long alliance to the Duchess in the midst of a fiery session of lovemaking. He was romantic, he was powerful and he was energetic. He was engaging, he was captivating and he was breathtaking. Now, fifteen years later, he would still engage in sexual intercourse with Veronica, but it was different. He was different.
Chapter Two
As Veronica buried her head between the yellowed pages of a tattered book, which she had read many times in the past, Edward poured himself a glass of wine and sat in his favourite chair in the dining room. Looking at the clock that rested atop the mantle, the Duke was surprised to find that it was just then approaching four in the afternoon. He had believed it to be much later; his bones definitely felt as though they had been dragged through a whole day. He ran the hand, which was not holding a glass of extremely expensive alcohol, through his hair once more and allowed his mind, as he sometimes did, to drift into the past. Like his wife two floors above him, Edward retreated into himself and began to
reflect on a time gone by. Unlike Veronica, the Duke did not travel fifteen years backwards in time; in fact, he did not even travel one year back in time. Instead, Edward travelled only as far back as five months in the past; specifically, Edward travelled back to the day he first became romantically involved with the maid.
It was a quiet day in spring when Edward and Marie began their relationship; or it would have been a quiet day had the birds not been busy making themselves known to all those present in the manor. Not present in the manor that day, and unable to hear the singing of the birds, was the Duchess. She and her sister had arranged to spend a day at the seaside together, which Veronica had been looking forward to for months as it provided her with an opportunity to see her precious niece and nephew. Knowing of the planned day out long in advance allowed Edward to make his own plans for that day; and make plans he did. The Duke arranged for Katy, one of his preferred lovers and a childhood friend of his wife, to be picked up in his personal carriage and carried away to his manor at one o'clock that afternoon. However, when the clock struck one and he heard the sound of somebody entering the manor through the front door, Edward was dismayed to find that Katy had no plans to see him that day, or any other day for that matter.
"Sir, I'm afraid something terrible has happened,” said the Duke's driver, who had been the person to enter the manor.
"What? What is it?" Edward asked anxiously, too panicked to remind his driver that he was not supposed to enter the house without being summoned.
"The girl, Madam Katy..."
"What about her?"
"She says she can no longer come to the manor as her husband has found out. I do not know what he has found out about, but she insists that you will have greater knowledge than I."
"I understand" said the Duke as his hand cut through the thick, recently washed hair on his head, "You are dismissed, Sebastien."
The Driver, whose real name was Maxwell, left the dining room with a tip of his imaginary hat and made his way through the hallway of the manor. While he claimed to have no knowledge of just what Katy's husband had discovered, Maxwell was well aware of everything that had been going on between the Duke and just about every one of his lovers. All of the staff in that manor knew of Edward's incredible lust and libido, it was all but impossible to work there and not unintentionally overhear the screaming sounds of the lord of the manor making love to a woman who was not his wife. While the staff was not particularly concerned with what their master did in his personal life, they did enjoy discussing any major developments in his affairs, which were becoming increasingly similar to something one would find in a Shakespeare drama. It was for this reason that the driver travelled through the manor rather than simply exiting through the front door and returning to his duties; he didn't have to drive anybody anywhere anyway. In the kitchen, Marie, the maid, was busy wiping down counter tops and tightening a knob, which had become loose and was at risk of falling from the drawer that it served to open. Maxwell rarely made a visit to the kitchen unless he had news of a big development and so the instant he entered the room, Marie's face lit up with excitement and she demanded to hear the latest plot twist in the love life of the Duke.
"Oh tell me, darling," Marie exclaimed, "what's he done now?"
"It is not the Duke who has caused disharmony this time, but rather Katy." Maxwell spoke with a confidence, which was not usually evident in his manner of speech. There was something about being the sole source of much-in-demand news that gave him a sense of importance and self-worth, which his position in life had never allowed him to experience.
"Katy? Which one is that?" asked the maid, her confused face as scrunched as the rag she clutched in her closed fist.
"The brunette. The woman with the large breasts and thin waist."
"Alexia?"
"No, he ended it with Alexia months ago." Though it was a difficult task and probably wouldn't yield much success, Maxwell spent several more minutes trying to convey an image of Katy vivid enough for the maid to remember the girl. However, his exercise in description was brought to an abrupt end when the Duke came bursting through the kitchen door in a rage fit to rival the hunted bull whose head adorned the wall of the kitchen.
"What is going on in here?" he yelled, the red fury of his face contrasted in colour only by the blue vein which was protruding from his forehead. Marie jumped from the chair in which she had placed her rump; she was not exactly sure how this action would help, but it seemed better than doing nothing. As soon as he heard the sound of the Duke's voice, Maxwell accepted that he was about to lose his job and so did little jumping or squirming and he certainly did no running. Both the maid and soon-to-be former-driver stood awkwardly, directing their gaze to the floor which Marie had spent the morning washing.
"Why are you discussing my private life?" There was no answer. "Is this a joke to you? In your eyes, am I but an unwilling player in a dramatic work of fiction?" Again there was no answer, but this did not ease Edward's anger. His balled fists twitched as he did everything in his power to keep them close to his side; he feared if he let his wronged hands wonder they would strike one or both of his employees, something which he did not want to deal with. "I am not a joke!" he shouted, attempting to release his anger in the form of sound waves rather than resorting to physical violence. "I am not a joke and I am not here for your entertainment! You are here for my entertainment and now I want you both out! Both of you!"
While Maxwell had already made his peace with being relieved from his duties at the manor, Marie did not react so calmly to the news.
"But... But sir" she stammered, realising how foolish she had been to find such delight in the suffering the Duke encountered throughout his personal life, "I cannot be without a job at this manor."
"I cannot be without respect at this manor,” retorted the Duke, "now I want you both out of my home or I shall have to send for the royal guards." Being but a duke and not the King or Prince Regent, Edward did not actually have any royal guards at his immediate disposal; fortunately for him, neither the maid nor driver was aware of this.
"Sir, please allow me to stay. I will work this month for no cost at all if you just allow me to stay." Marie's pleas may come across as desperate, but that is because desperate is exactly what she was. The young woman of twenty-two could not afford to lose her job as maid of the manor. Her father had died four years prior in a sudden and unexpected manner, leaving only her to provide for her younger sister and ailing mother. Marie was not above doing the lowliest of chores for smallest amount of income. Evidently, she was not above doing the lowliest of chores for no income; as far as she was concerned, no income for one month was better than no income for twelve.
The Duke was generally an empathetic man, but he was in such a rage at this moment that he paid no attention to the tearful pleas of Marie. Still infuriated, he continued to insist that the maid and driver leave his estate without another moment of hesitation.
"Come Marie,” said Maxwell, "we shall leave with our dignity." The confidence that had been so prominent in his voice moments before was no longer present, nor was any distinguishable emotion. Maxwell was doing everything he could to mask any trace of worry or regret in his voice, refusing to give his former employer the pleasure of seeing him panic at the thought of being without a job.
"Come Marie,” he repeated as the ex-maid used the heavy cloth of stained sleeve to wipe the falling drops of sorrow from her cheeks. Maxwell gently took Marie by the wrist and led her from the kitchen like a mother leading her child away from the house of a friend. Though she did not want to leave, the girl was too lost in her own self-pity to put up much of a fight as she was carefully guided over the four inch stone step which would bring her out of the kitchen and into the main body of the manor.
"You can show yourselves the door" Edward called after them. He took no joy in stripping Maxwell and Marie of their jobs, but it was the only thing to do, given the situation. He had done the same thing any employer would
do in that situation and now, wishing to be alone with his thoughts, he poured himself a fresh glass of wine and returned to the dining room.
"What do I do now?" Edward thought to himself as he sat alone in the main room of the manor. Not only were Marie and Maxwell now gone from his life, but also was the only of his extra-marital lovers whom he had any degree of feelings for. She had told Maxwell that she could no longer see the Duke as her husband had discovered her infidelities. How had this happened? How could a husband possibly find out his wife was having an affair when she was having it with a man who had (and regularly made use of) the power to cover every track and make every move as discreet as possible? He began to suspect that maybe Katy's husband had never, in fact, found out about anything. It seemed far more likely that the married woman became so overcome with guilt and remorse that she either came clean to her husband and told him everything or decided to break it off with Edward before her husband really did discover her cheating ways. Whatever the truth was, Edward would never again spend a night (or morning or afternoon) with Katy. He had never been on the broken end of a break up before and was not entirely convinced that he was suitably equipped to deal with it. Since returning to the dining room, his wine glass had been drained and refilled multiple times and his hand had made several expeditions through the unrelenting growth of his hair.
The Duke's Dilemma: Regency Romance Menage Short Stories Page 94
