Marblestone Mansion, Book 6

by Marti Talbott

  “My aunt must have meant you to wear your ball gowns for Uncle’s birthday celebration. It is to be quite an elaborate three day affair and unless I am mistaken, both Lord and Lady Husher shall arrive just in time.”

  The duchess tried not to let her dismay show. This was the first she’d heard of that. If she intended to impress Lady Husher, she would have to work much faster than she planned. “The celebration is next week then?”

  “Friday next,” Yannick answered.

  The duchess smiled in spite of her apprehension. “I did not realize it was so soon.”

  “That should give you just enough time to have your hair all done up properly,” Emma said.

  “While you languish in bed,” said the duchess. “American women are famous for their idleness.”

  Emma took a sip of coffee and set her cup down “Tell me, Kate Wagner, are your fingernails as sharp as your tongue?”

  Growing presentable fingernails was something the duchess had not managed to do, and she quickly put her hands in her lap before Yannick saw their miserable condition. Apparently, Emma had noticed them, and now, Yannick would too. It made the duchess inwardly seethe. Emma might be a more formidable opponent than she thought.

  To ease the tension in the room, Yannick said, “Ladies, are either of you interested in visiting some of the castles today?”

  “I would love it,” said Emma. “We have no ancient buildings in America, save what the British burned in the two miserable wars they waged against us. Happily, we soundly beat them on both occasions.”

  “With the help of the French, and who knows how many other countries,” the duchess shot back.

  “Hinterwäldler,” Emma muttered in German.

  About to take a sip, Yannick nearly spilled his tea and couldn’t help smiling when the duchess looked at a complete loss. Hillbilly was a considerable insult, but apparently, Kate did not speak or understand German. “We best get an early start. I shall call for the carriage. Do promise not to kill each other until after I have returned.”

  Both women gave him their most exasperated look.

  *

  This time, the duchess let Yannick sit beside his fiancée and sat across from him in the carriage. She was wearing her new, green skirt with the two foot train, a pail green blouse unbuttoned as low as she dared, and the matching jacket that made her bosom look full and tempting. Her plan was to let him look as often as he liked, quite possibly without Emma noticing. So far, it was working quite well.

  Much more conservative, Emma wore an ordinary brown skirt and a high-collar blouse she thought more practical for walking around ancient ruins. It was not until the duchess ‘accidentally’ let her kerchief slide off her lap and leaned over far too long before she picked it up, that Emma tugged on Yannick’s arm to draw his attention away from the obvious. “Which castle are you taking us to?”

  “We shall begin with Castle Beaufort.”

  “The one with the torture chamber?” the duchess asked. “How appropriate.”

  “You are familiar with our ancestry?” Yannick asked.

  “How could I not be? Your aunt speaks of the richness of your heritage constantly. If I am not mistaken, Luxembourg has been captured by every conqueror in history.”

  Yannick sighed. “Regrettably, we are but a small country and tempting to those who wish to rule the world.”

  “Yet, here you are,” said Emma, “a sovereign country left to its own regulation.”

  “With the help of the British,” the duchess couldn’t resist adding.

  In a huff, Emma turned to look out the window on her side, while the duchess turned to see the view through the opposite window. Neither of them noticed the slight smile on Yannick’s face.

  *

  Situated on a hill high above a valley, and surrounded by lush trees and grasses, Castle Beaufort was an enormous structure, built using a multitude of brown stones, portions of which were black with what appeared to be smoke damage. In the front was a large, round, multi-level tower with an arched doorway that had half its heavy iron door missing.

  “Someone lives here still?” Emma asked as Yannick helped her out of the carriage.

  “A friend and his family, but they are away at the moment. They live in a renovated portion of the castle, and the rest is quite dilapidated, I am afraid. It once had a high wall and a moat around it, but there is little left of that part now.”

  Stones from a wall that once surrounded the castle had tumbled to the ground, making the women lift their skirts to step carefully between them. When the duchess’ longer skirt caught in the back and Yannick rushed to unsnag it, Emma gave into the urge to glare at Kate. Of course, as soon as the deed was done and Yannick stood up, she was back to her more pleasant self.

  He helped the women through the open side of the iron door and into a large room that seemed more square than round. Slats from wooden staircases long since collapsed, lay scattered on the stone floor. “This room is called…” he began.

  “The Keep,” the duchess announced.

  “A Keep?” Emma asked. “Keep what?”

  “Wine…and men who liked to drink it, mostly,” the duchess answered with a smirk on her face. “They have Keeps in Scotland as well.”

  “You should know,” Emma said.

  “On the contrary,” said Yannick, “the Keep was the strongest room in the castle and the best place to fend off an attack.”

  “When they were not drinking wine and plenty of it,” the duchess added.

  “Drunkards, one and all?” Emma asked.

  “Are not most men?” asked the duchess.

  “Not in America,” said Emma.

  “Come now, Emma,” the duchess argued. “Have you not heard that Americans were once British? I assure you, the British are just as fond of strong drink as the men in any other country.”

  “So now you are…” Emma started.

  “Ladies,” Yannick interrupted. “As I was about to point out, take note of the small holes in the walls through which they could watch their enemies. On the levels above, the windows are tall enough for a man to stand and shoot his longbow.”

  Emma pointed to a square place in the floor. “Why are some of the rocks removed?”

  In a spooky voice the duchess answered, “‘Tis where the bodies are buried.”

  Yannick rolled his eyes. “The castle was once abandoned and there were men who wished to excavate the place. They endeavored to learn more about the people who lived here.”

  “I can’t think why,” said the duchess. “According to Lady Husher, your history is quite well preserved. What more is there to know, other than that they lived, and famously so, and then they died?”

  “You do not care much for history, Kate Wagner?” Emma asked. “I adore it and read all the books I can.”

  “Even those written and published by the British?” the duchess asked.

  Emma grinned. “My no, we burned all the British propaganda years ago.”

  The duchess ignored her and turned to Yannick. “May we see the torture chamber now?”

  “This way,” he answered, leading the way to a narrow passageway. Winding stone stairs led downward and as they descended, he used his walking stick to clear away the cobwebs. Neither of the women enjoyed the threat of spiders, but both were too stubborn to turn back. They passed through an empty chamber, and then turned down another staircase.

  At last, they entered the torture chamber. More wood lay scattered on the floor, but there was one piece of recognizable equipment left partially intact. It had a platform with a wooden wheel still mounted on the side.

  “It’s a rack, how glorious,” said the duchess, taking a step closer, “I believe some of the blood yet remains.” She watched with delight as horror crossed Emma’s face.

  Emma sighed. “You are even more ghoulish than I imagined.”

  “Lie down, Emma, and let us see how it works,” the duchess suggested.

  Emma glared at her for a brief moment,
turned, and went back up the steps.

  After she was gone, the duchess lightly stroked Yannick’s upper arm, “I do not believe she likes me.”

  He cunningly grinned. “I cannot quite discover why.” Yannick grabbed her hand and began to pull her back up the stairs. “Emma, wait for us.”

  *

  “I fear I must,” said Yannick to the duchess the next morning, “I am promised to visit my cousins, but none are our age, and I am certain you would find them quite dull.”

  Our age, the duchess thought. How old did he think she was? Surely not as old as he. “You are right, I might do better staying here.”

  Emma’s eyes lit up. “If she will find them dull, then it shall be perfect. Oh, do come darling Kate Wagner, for I should miss you terribly if you do not.”

  Yannick wiped breakfast crumbs off his mouth with his napkin and then laid it on the table. “Very well, can you manage to gather yourselves by 10 o’clock?”

  Emma sarcastically said, “I can, but Kate Wagner most likely cannot. She looks quite tired and decrepit this morning.”

  “Do not underestimate the decrepit, my dear Emma.” The duchess managed a glimmer of a smile when the grin on Emma’s face faded.

  CHAPTER 12

  If ever the duchess was impressed with anything in Luxembourg, it was at the castle in which Yannick’s cousins lived. Those fortunate enough to be born into the family of royals certainly knew how to live. Their manservants were astonishingly handsome, their maids quite becoming and the manicured gardens behind the castle were breathtaking.

  To his cousin, Colette, she pretended to take special interest, ignoring Yannick and Emma the entire time they were in the gardens. Colette was quite young, just as Yannick warned, but very gracious in her manner. Her love was of flowers, of which she knew all the names, and even the truly uninterested duchess learned a thing or two. The only particular event, if one could call it that, was when a bee began to buzz about her head. The duchess cried out in angst, and was surprised when Yannick hurried to her side. Thankfully, the bee flew away before she needed a complete rescue. She sweetly smiled her appreciation, and promptly went back to ignoring him.

  *

  “Kate, you are from London, I hear,” Colette said, after taking a sip of her afternoon tea.

  Every room in the castle had a specific designation and the tearoom was no exception, although it was decorated elaborately enough to be a formal sitting room. The duchess sat on a pastel green settee next to Colette, while Emma and Yannick found comfort in side-by-side matching chairs. Emma looked as though she was interested in the conversation, but Yannick had his nose in the open newspaper he held up in front of him.

  “Yes, London is my home,” the duchess answered.

  “And what do you do in London?”

  “Lately, I have been staying with Lord and Lady Husher while my home is being properly wired with electricity.”

  “And your husband?”

  The duchess appropriately bowed her head. “Passed away these six months.”

  “Oh, I am so saddened to hear that. How have you managed?” Colette asked.

  “I have had my moments, I assure you, and I am quite certain improving my disposition is what Lady Husher had in mind by sending me here.”

  “You are destitute?”

  “Hardly, but I am without a respectable escort for this year’s season.”

  “Would a disreputable escort not do?” Yannick asked from behind his newspaper.

  Colette looked shocked, but the duchess smiled. “Are you offering?”

  Yannick neglected to answer, which made Colette giggle. “You handle him quite nicely, which is something none of us have managed to do.”

  “He is put out because Lady Husher implored him to see to my happiness. We have agreed to make each other as miserable as possible.”

  “So Lady Husher will not further impose on him?” Colette asked.

  “On both of us, my dear, both of us,” the duchess answered. “I would much rather be at home in England, but alas, turning down Lady Husher is not easily done.”

  “Impossibly done,” Yannick mumbled. He turned the page on the newspaper he was not really reading, and went back to being silent.

  “Yannick and I are cousins on the other side of his family. I have only met Lord and Lady Husher a time or two. And you are from America, Miss Bauer. I hope to see America someday,” said Colette.

  “We shall be pleased to…” Emma began to answer.

  “I have been several times,” the duchess interrupted, “and I care never to see it again.”

  “Why do you say that?” Colette asked.

  “The voyages are tedious and the service, even in the finest hotels, is dreadful.”

  “You mean you have the sea sickness,” Emma said. “Poor Kate Wagner. Did you have to stay in your stateroom, eat no meals at all and put up with a most disagreeable doctor?”

  “Once, I confess,” said the duchess.

  Always the perfect hostess, Colette quickly changed the subject. “Tell me about the balls in London, I hope to be attending them myself now that I am of age.”

  The duchess’ face glowed with excitement. “Naturally, they are brilliantly planned down to the least detail. The orchestra is the very best available, the music is divine, the men are gallant and the women dress in the latest silks and satins from Paris. I especially adore…”

  Yannick set his newspaper aside and stood up. “If you will forgive me, I have business to attend.”

  “Of course, cousin,” Colette answered before she turned her attention back to the duchess. “You were telling about the dancing, Mrs. Wagner.”

  The duchess watched the door close behind Yannick and sighed her relief. “Have you a kerchief I may borrow. There is a knot inside my girdle that is rubbing my side raw.”

  Of course,” Colette answered. She pulled hers out of her pocket and handed it the duchess, who folded it, stuck her hand inside her blouse, and stuffed it inside the upper rim of her girdle. “Ah, that is much better.”

  By the time Yannick came back, sat down and picked up his newspaper, Emma was describing the balls in America. He unfolded his paper and continued to listen until he realized he had noticed something odd. At length, he folded one corner of his newspaper inward just enough to see over it. It appeared that Kate Wagner’s bosom was every bit as padded as he suspected, but something had gone wrong – her right side looked ever so voluptuous, but her left had begun to sag. He stifled his laughter but try as he might, he couldn’t keep the newspaper from jiggling.

  *

  Most women were only vaguely interested in cricket matches, and Yannick counted on that when he challenged Emma and Kate to accompany him to one. He was right, for both women were extremely bored. However, Kate had the foresight to bring a book to read and seemed to delight in each and every page, while Emma sat stone-faced the whole time. Kate’s bosom problem appeared to be fixed, but it still made him smile each time he thought about it.

  The next day, they attended a boat-rowing contest, and the day after that, horse races during which Kate finished her book. It rained the third day, so he brought out the board games. They played The Mansion of Happiness and Kate won; the Checkered Game of Life, and Kate won; and then The Game of the District Messenger Boy, which ended in a close race between Yannick and Emma. The duchess failed miserably at that game, and was well aware of the extreme satisfaction on Emma’s face.

  Knowing Emma did not understand French, the duchess muttered, “ynerie” to something Emma said. Yannick, who spoke several different languages, once more had to stifle his laughter for she was right – Emma’s remark was stupid. From then on, the two women exchanged insults in a language the other could not understand, while Yannick simply took it all in. It was better than any other sporting event he had ever attended.

  Chess was a game of wits, and outwitting men was the duchess’ chosen specialty. Expecting a game or two of chess from Lady Husher’s descriptions
, she intended to wear dresses that revealed most of her bosom, lean forward each time it was her turn, and let Yannick admire them to his heart’s content. The duchess remembered well the time spent becoming proficient at the game. It was during the dreary and exasperating days of her one and only pregnancy. Still, six months of practicing the art of playing chess served her quite well. Unfortunately, three could not play chess and she couldn’t think of a single way to rid them of Emma.

  She was sent there to break up the union between Yannick and Emma, but nothing seemed to be working. Offending Emma had not worked, nor did ignoring her and trying to leave her out of every conversation. Furthermore, Yannick carefully did not take either side, which should have made Emma furious.

  The duchess couldn’t remember ever encountering someone like Emma, but then, she rarely paid attention to women who could not further her ambitions. With only a couple of days left, she had to come up with a new plan. It was the oldest trick in the book, but there was only one thing left to do – a thing that few men could resist.

  *

  It was not that hard to come up with a way to make it convincing. All evening, the duchess stayed in her room and thought about Jedediah Tanner, the only man she ever truly loved. She thought about the way he held her, kissed her and made her feel so very loved on their wedding night. Then she remembered reading about his death in a Kansas City shootout, and the number of bullets that had entered his body. She thought about how he must have suffered as his blood spilled out on the ground, and although her Irish husband had said otherwise, the duchess was certain it was her name, Caroline, that Jedediah had on his lips as the last breath left his body.

  She sat in her nightgown, with tears streaming down her cheeks, and when the maid could not console her, she went to fetch Yannick.

  “My dear,” Yannick said, as he sat down on the bed next to her. “Are you ill?” The duchess pretended to be so distraught; she could not speak, and instead lay her head on his shoulder.