by Matilda Hart
I sat down on the bed clutching the delicate stockings. I didn’t know what to do, and Sophie wasn’t helping to make the decision any easier. Do I give in and accept a new life at Barclay House? Or do I rebel… thank the Duke for his kindness and then take myself and my belongings back to my house and wait in the cold silence for George to return, or for my sadness to overtake me.
Chapter 5
As I waited for Sophie to return to lecture me about my stubborn pride, I decided to unpack a few of my cases. If I was to leave, it would take me a few days to get everything organized, His Grace would allow me that at least. A soft knock at the door surprised me from my folding. Sophie wouldn’t knock at my door; she would have just breezed in as per usual.
I opened the door slowly, a footman in livery waited outside, a small smile on his handsome face and a paper wrapped package under his arm. He held out a silver plate towards me, upon it rested a letter with my name inscribed upon it in a graceful hand. I took the letter and the package with shaking fingers and thanked the man. He smiled at me again and nodded sharply before walking quickly down the hall. The heels of his leather shoes clicked smartly on the hardwood floor as he went, and I waited for the sound to die away before closing my door gently. I lay the package down on the window seat and broke the seal on the Duke’s letter.
It could only have been from him. The paper was the same as all of the requests that had come to my house before I had fallen ill, and the looping delicate letters were the same. I couldn’t help but admire the way his handwriting made my name look, and I wondered what my name would sound like on his lips.
What was I thinking? I shook my head and unfolded the letter, inhaling the clean scent of the ink, and something else I couldn’t quite place.
My Dear Mrs. Rutledge,
Welcome to Barclay House, I trust that you are recovered from your illness, and will come to enjoy your time in my house. I hope to see you at dinner.
Ever your servant,
D.
I turned to the paper wrapped package sitting innocently on the plush cushions of the window seat. Did I dare open it? Of course, my curiosity had to be satisfied, and after only a moment’s hesitation, I was tugging at the jute strings that held the package closed. As the paper fell away, it revealed one of the most beautiful dresses I had ever seen. The champagne colored silk ran through my fingers in waves. The puffed sleeves were short and stitched with a delicate hand and the neckline was perhaps even lower than my prized lavender dress. I flushed at the thought of anyone but George seeing so much of my décolletage exposed. I wondered what he would say if he saw me in this.
There were gloves too, and champagne colored silk slippers with delicate embroidery. A long, garnet red silk ribbon fell to the floor at my feet. I bent to pick it up and examined it closely. It matched the jeweled cross that I wore around my neck perfectly. It would look stunning when it was wound into my dark hair… it was as though the Duke knew exactly how to flatter my figure and complexion, and I wondered again how much Sophie had told his Grace about me.
Sophie burst into the room with her usual enthusiasm, she was dressed in pale green and had wound pearls into her hair. Her face glowed with excitement and a hint of jealousy played about her eyes as she saw the dress and gloves the Duke had sent me.
“I can see that you’ve changed your mind about dinner. Good! I’ve brought Mary with me to help you get ready, I have a feeling that your hair is a fright to deal with after so long of being left to your own devices.” Mary trailed behind her, a small smile on her face. She took the dress from the window seat and laid it carefully on the bed, and placed the gloves next to it. The slippers were set on the floor beside the dressing table, and she busied herself in my drawers removing underclothes and stockings to complete the outfit. Delicate layers of muslin and silk, layers that I had embroidered myself with intricate patterns of whitework that I had copied from a magazine that Sophie had lent me. I was inordinately proud of my embroidery skills and I relished the compliments I received from the other ladies in our social circle about it.
Sophie smiled at me and laid out her curling tongs, combs and pins on the table while Mary helped me slide out of my day dress and into the delicate underthings. She laced my bodice and helped me into the exquisite dress that the Duke had sent. I had never worn silk before, and the feel of the expensive fabric on my skin gave me another stab of guilt. The Duke had been so generous, and not just to me. I wondered what the dress Sophie had been given looked like, but I didn’t ask. Mary buttoned the final closure on the dress and pulled the long gloves up my slender arms. The gloves sat loosely at my elbows, clinging to my forearms perfectly. I sat down at the dressing table and fastened my garnet cross around my neck. Sophie took her place beside me and began to curl my hair with her tongs. Her hair always looked perfect, so I was glad to have her help.
Sophie chattered gaily as she curled, braided and tucked my hair into an elaborate style that she often wore to the dances and balls we attended together. I watched in the mirror as Sophie wound the garnet ribbon through my dark curls, and her quick fingers pulled at the fat ringlets in front of my ears. I smiled at her in the mirror and she returned it. She placed her hands gently on my shoulders and leaned forward, her gaze holding mine in the mirror.
“So, shall we go down to dinner, Mrs. Rutledge?” I patted her hand and rose from the table.
“Yes, Mrs. Charles, I believe I may be famished.” Sophie smiled and wound her arm through mine. I was hungry; I had been starved for company, for love, affection, for conversation… I had been wasting away since George had left but I hadn’t known what was the matter with me.
As Sophie and I walked the halls she pointed out various portraits on the walls – all of His Grace’s royal relatives stared down at us with stern faces and I couldn’t help but shudder as I felt the judgement in their gaze. Despite the level of my birth, I was so far below these great men and women that I felt even more out of place, even in this fine dress, and being here at the Duke’s invitation. I wondered what her Majesty would think of the Duke’s antics in the country and a small smile crept across my face. Perhaps it was better not to think about that sort of thing.
We walked into the dining room together and I stopped in my tracks. I had heard the chatter from the room echoing down the hall, but stepping into the room was an entirely different experience. The Duke had made good on his work to support and care for the women in the village who were without protection – there were more than thirty women of varying ages and even some children.
“How many rooms are in this place?” I asked Sophie quietly, but she didn’t reply. When I looked at her and asked the question again, I realized that she had dropped to the ground in a deep curtsey. I spun around, my heart in my throat.
The Duke had joined us for dinner.
Chapter 6
I gasped audibly and dropped to the ground, instantly furious with Sophie for not warning me of the Duke’s arrival. My face burned with shame, and I could only hope that the Duke was feeling generous when it came to a social faux pas in his own house. I felt the touch of a gloved hand on my shoulder and I dared to look up. My eye met the gaze of the man I could only guess was the Duke. His hair was thick and dark, swept forward towards his face, accentuating the leonine shape of his face. He was beautiful.
“Mrs. Rutledge,” he smiled down at me, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. “I’m so happy to see you, feeling more like yourself.” He held out his gloved hand to me and I touched my fingertips to his. He raised me gently to my feet and placed his lips gently against the fabric of my gloves. Brazen. I blushed harder. “You look lovely in silk, it’s so nice to be right.” His eyes were dark blue, almost sapphire. He was waiting for me to say something, everyone was waiting.
“I... I… I’ve never worn silk before, it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever touched. Thank you, your Grace.” His smile widened, and I dipped my head. It felt too bold to hold his gaze, and where o
ur fingers touched, my skin felt like it was burning through my glove. He released my fingers, and looked me up and down. Sophie was still curtsied at our feet, as were the rest of the ladies in the dining room. The Duke raised his voice and spoke to us all now,
“Ladies, I greet you all humbly. Welcome once again to my table, and thank you once more for the pleasure of your company. While I sincerely hope that the circumstance keeping you at Barclay House will be resolved with all swiftness, in truth I would rather keep you all here for myself.” A cheeky smile crossed the Duke’s face, and the room erupted in girlish giggles. Had he really just said that? My shock must have been plain on my face for the Duke leaned towards me and whispered in my ear, “You must learn to relax, Mrs. Rutledge. This is not the most shocking thing to have happened in this hall.” I looked away, his breath was warm on my neck, “And there are fifty-six bedrooms in Barclay House. Not including my chambers.” I swallowed hard. This was almost too much to bear. The Duke was flouting all semblance of decorum, and from the look of his smile, he knew it too.
His Grace leaned back and looked me in the face. His gloved hand touched my chin gently. “Welcome, Mrs. Rutledge. I hope you will be happy here.” He smiled at me once more, and my stomach dropped once more. He was devastatingly handsome, and I had no trouble seeing how he was able to get away with so many scandalous antics. Any woman would swoon before him, but I wouldn’t be one of those women. I couldn’t. I fixed my eyes on the toes of his polished leather boots, fighting the urge to let them linger on the way his spotless pantaloons clung to his muscular thighs. I curtsied deeply.
“Thank you, your Grace. I would truly be lost without your patronage.” I kept my gaze on the ground until I could see the toes of his boots moving away over the polished wood floor. The bustle and noise of the dining room returned, and Sophie was at my side once more. She gripped my arm tightly and hissed in my ear.
“You are such a goose! I can’t believe that you would be so ungrateful! His Grace is most generous and kind, and you acted like he had asked you to dance after all the other ladies had been chosen. I’m embarrassed for you, Charlotte, I hope no one else overheard your conversation.” I didn’t reply. Sophie could admonish me all she wanted, it didn’t change the fact that I wasn’t about to twitter and bat my eyes and wave my fan in His Grace’s direction just because of his title. He knew he was better than the rest of us, but that didn’t give him the right to treat me with any less decorum than a lady of his own social standing. I refused to be ashamed. I had acted the way any lady should, and I knew that my father would have been proud of me… my mother, however, would have said the same thing as Sophie, which made me all the more determined to refuse his advances.
The Duke took his seat at the head of the table, and all of the ladies clamored to sit near him. Sophie pulled me towards the middle of the table, but I refused and instead sat towards the end of the table with some ladies that I recognized from one of the Regimental balls. The women welcomed me cautiously but courteously, and I tried to relax as his Grace rang a tiny silver bell and dinner was served.
Course after course of mouthwatering food was presented to us. Glazed pheasant, racks and racks of glistening lamb, sauces, fish, venison, apricots in brandy, a haunch of mutton served with gravy, countless small savory pastries and handsomely molded jellies, and some dishes I couldn’t identify, but that the other ladies helped themselves to with gusto. The deep red wine was richer than anything I had ever tasted, and one of the women, Mrs. Carter I believe, told me in hushed tones than His Grace hadn’t yet sent away his French chef, and that all of his wines were French. I looked at the dinner with alarm, did anyone else know that we were eating food cooked by a Frenchman?
“Don’t look so frightened, His Grace’s chef isn’t going to poison us. You country girls are so flighty!” I hoped that no one else had seen me blanch, and I took another sip of wine to calm my nerves. French wine, French food, a French cook, and my husband was away fighting against these very people right now. The thought of it turned my stomach, and I pushed my food around on my plate with my fork as the conversation flowed around me. Perhaps it would be safer if I just listened rather than spoke. I could feel eyes upon me as I sipped at my wine, was the Duke watching me too? I dared to glance in his direction and caught his eye. He had been staring at me. I looked down at my plate; the sauce from the brandied apricots oozed into my lamb. I looked over again, quickly, the Duke winked at me and raised his glass in my direction. Several of the women clustered around him giggled and stared down the table at me, covering their laughter with their delicately gloved hands.
“We’ve been wondering when you would surface, Mrs. Rutledge.” It was Mrs. Carter again, I looked at her questioningly.
“What do you mean? I was quite ill…” she waved away my attempt at an explanation.
“You know exactly what I mean, you’ve been declining His Grace’s invitations for weeks; and even in his own house? The nerve. Your mother must be beside herself with embarrassment. We’re all so glad that you’ve come to your senses.” The ladies around her nodded gravely. I resisted the urge to stand and leave the dining room. My cheeks burned. So, they had noticed. I should have known how gossip would fly in a place like this. So many women in such a confined space. I merely nodded and murmured my thanks for her concern. “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Rutledge, we know that you are without wiser counsel at this time, so your lack of propriety in this instance is forgivable.”
Mrs. Carter was an older woman, her sons had gone away with the garrison, and her husband had passed only a few months before their deployment. I looked at her in her dress that was last season’s fashion with its forest green sash. In the candlelight, the color of the dress made her look sallow, and I decided that I felt sorry for her. I smiled and nodded my head. “You are so right, Mrs. Carter. I’m grateful to the Duke for his continued generosity, as we all are. I’m sure I will never be able to repay his kindness.” I looked down the length of the table again, the women surrounding the Duke were laughing gaily at some ribald joke he had just made and the table was being cleared for dessert.
Plates and dishes were whisked away and replaced with trays of cheese, sweet pastries, and exotic fresh and dried fruits. More wine was poured, and the voices in the room grew louder as musicians entered. One of the women was sitting on the Duke’s lap now, the puffed sleeves of her dress were pulled down past her shoulders and I could almost see the rosy tips of her nipples as her low neckline plunged even lower as she laughed raucously at something that had been whispered in her ear. She leaned close to the Duke and whispered in his ear. A smile spread across his handsome face and he beckoned to Sophie who was standing nearby, a glass of the deep red wine held delicately between her gloved fingers.
Sophie bent close to His Grace and listened carefully as he whispered in her ear. All at once, I realized that they were all staring at me. A cat-like smile made its way across Sophie’s curving lips as the Duke spoke. I began to feel uneasy and drank down the rest of my wine and fidgeted nervously. Before I could wave him away, a footman had refilled my wine glass. I hadn’t drunk this much wine since my wedding. George’s mother disapproved of wine at mealtimes and after two glasses of wine, my head was starting to swim.
I watched as the women from the table began to flit about the room. One of them sat at the pianoforte and began to play a Scottish folk song, more of the women joined her, singing in a faux brogue and dancing along to the tune. The lyrics were flirtatious and saucy and I found myself enjoying the performance despite my overall discomfort. I watched the Duke out of the corner of my eye, the young lady in his lap was whispering fervently in his ear and I could see that she was writhing ever so slightly in his lap, grinding her ass into His Grace’s crotch. My eyes widened as I watched them, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
All at once, Sophie was by my side, her body pressed against mine; her lips were warm against my ear. “The Duke wants me to give you a tour of the house, come wi
th me.” Sophie’s eyes were dark with drink and perhaps something else, but I couldn’t tell. I nodded thickly, I needed to get out of the dining room, it was all becoming too much for me. The heady scent of the flower arrangements, perfume, and the wine were making my head reel. Sophie laced her fingers through mine and led me out of the room. She took me down a different hallway than the one we had entered through and I remembered vaguely that His Grace had mentioned that the house had over fifty bedrooms. Barclay Hall was impossibly large, and I had a feeling that getting lost here wouldn’t be hard to do. Sophie pulled me along the hallway, and I tried desperately not to spill my wine on my precious silk dress.
“Where are we going?” I managed to gasp out as she tugged me down the thickly carpeted hallway. I couldn’t remember the last time my feet had touched carpet. I didn’t even have time to marvel at the sculptures and paintings that decorated the hallway. Sophie seemed to have a mission, but I needed to stop. I unlaced my fingers from hers and stopped, swaying gently on my feet. “Sophie… where…”
