Yes, a child was of what she was reminded—most definitely a child.
***
They had been in the gardens for over an hour, and His Grace had pointed out so many types of flowers, naming each one at every turn, that Marianne was already forgetting most of their names. The man, though ill-bred, was knowledgeable in the various plants, a joy he was happy to share.
“Oh, Stuart,” he said to a passing gardener. “Can I use those?” He pointed to the sheers the man held in his hand.
Stuart looked at the tool and then up at His Grace and nodded.
The Duke walked up to a nearby rose bush, touched several of the blooms, and snipped two of them from their stems. Then he returned the sheers to Stuart, the man bowing his head and then quickly leaving.
“A rose is the most perfect of flowers,” he said as he turned back to Marianne and her mother. “Both beauty and elegance, its fragrance can capture both the eye and the soul.” Smiling, he handed one to Marianne.
She knew her cheeks had to be as red as the flower she held, for her face felt as if it was on fire. His words were captivating and poetic, a contradiction to the man who stood before her.
He handed the other rose to her mother, and she gasped at the gift. “Your Grace, it is the most beautiful flower I have ever seen.”
The man grinned and then his eyes widened as he reached out and took back the rose. In his hand he held a long, fuzzy beast, and Marianne’s first impulse was to take a step back in horror.
“It’s a caterpillar,” he explained as if instructing a pupil, and as if Marianne had never seen a caterpillar before. “I find them usually in the daisies and the peonies, but sometimes I find them traveling through the roses as they make their way from one place to another. And they aren’t all too picky about what they eat, really. Sometimes they get hungry on their journeys.” He shrugged, but all Marianne could do was gape. He was allowing the animal to crawl on the back of his hand! Just the thought made her shiver in fright. However, he seemed unconcerned. “They’re the most interesting of creatures,” he continued in an awed tone. “All day they eat and explore and then eat some more, and then one day they turn into a beautiful butterfly. It’s a most wonderful life, don’t you think?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” Marianne croaked, though all she wished to do was distance herself from the horrid little beast.
He smiled and then held out his hand to her, the creature still slithering over his skin. Marianne thought her heart would jump to her throat at any moment and choke her to death. Even her breathing was difficult to control.
“Now, if I place it on your hand…”
Marianne looked over at her mother for help. Surely she could not allow this man to put this animal on her person!
Her mother, however, gave an encouraging nod—though she appeared a bit green around the eyes—and Marianne held back panic as he placed the creature on the back of her hand.
“Oh, my!” she whispered. “It is…” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back. She wanted to appear brave, but in truth, all she wished was that he remove the terrifying creature as soon as possible.
“Amazing,” he said and, to her relief, took back the animal. He walked over to a nearby bush and placed it on a limb before turning his attention once again to Marianne and her mother. “There’s so much more to see. Later, I’ll show you the library. You can read all the books you want during your stay. I don’t mind. Though you’ll never be able to read them all before you leave.”
Marianne regained her breath and forced her heartbeat to return to normal as she followed beside her mother, keeping her hand at her side in an attempt to not wipe away the feeling of the caterpillar’s tiny legs crawling over her. She cast her mother a worried glance, but the woman looked straight ahead and said nothing.
Chapter Five
Much to Marianne’s relief, Mr. Ludlow and the Duke—it seemed strange referring to the man they had met as a Duke, but a Duke he was—left both Marianne and her mother alone. They had two hours to ready themselves for dinner, which was more than enough time as far as Marianne was concerned. However, her mother did not agree.
“Two hours!” she said as she added another pin to her coiffure. “I do not understand how men believe two hours is enough time for a woman to wash, dress, do her hair, and choose the appropriate jewelry. They simply do not know how much time it takes for us to ready ourselves.”
Marianne smiled. The woman was beautiful with her red hair and fair complexion, and although she had reached the older age of one and forty, she still appeared ten yours younger.
“Mother, I can only hope to be as beautiful as you when I reach your age,” she said, ignoring her mother’s tirade. What could she say that would ease the woman’s mind anyway?
Her mother set the pin she held in her hand and turned. “Marianne, you are far more beautiful than I. You catch the eye of every man, and for good reason. Even the Duke admired your beauty.”
This made Marianne giggle. “Oh, I do not know about that,” she said remembering how she had been the one staring at him, although she did wish it were true that he was interested in her in some way. It was odd that she would find herself attracted to a man such as he, for although he was handsome in an unconventional sense, he was no Beau Brummell.
“Trust me, my dear, I saw it in his eyes. You must remember, we are here simply to prepare him for his instruction to society and nothing more.”
“Yes, Mother, I understand.”
Her mother set the final pin, stood, and looked herself over in the mirror one last time. Then she took a moment to look Marianne up and down. With a single nod of approval, she said, “Well, I suppose we are ready. Come, dear.”
They made their way to the dining room and then stopped at the door. Inside, the Duke paced to and fro, his hand clasped tightly behind his back and, although she could not make out his words, was mumbling under his breath. He had also changed his clothes, but they very much resembled the ones he wore previously, only these were clean and tidy. The dirt that he had worn on his forehead had also been scrubbed clean.
“Ladies,” he said when he saw the women, giving them that same awkward bow he had given them when they met, “please, have a sit-down.” He stood with his arm outstretched, and Marianne noticed the butler in the corner standing with a rigid back and saying nothing. He, of all people, would know the proper procedure a man used in a woman’s presence. Then she remembered that Mr. Ludlow had asked that she and her mother make an assessment of the man. That explained why Mr. Barnsworth had not offered a suggestion on how to seat her and her mother.
“Thank you,” Marianne said. She and her mother walked to the table and waited to for either the Duke or Mr. Barnsworth to pull out their chairs but was surprised when the Duke pulled out his own chair and sat down.
When he looked up, he stared at each of them before realization crossed his face. Close to jumping, he rushed to Mrs. Blithe’s side and pulled out her chair. “Here, allow me.”
Her mother gave him a small nod. “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said before taking her seat and then grunted as he pushed the chair forward, the high back of it lifting up to the point that Marianne worried that the woman would fall over.
“Sorry,” the Duke said as he gave the chair a lighter push, allowing Mrs. Blithe to be more comfortable. Then he rushed around the table, much like a child moving quickly to please a parent or tutor.
“Hello,” he said with a wide grin. Yes, a very young child.
“Hello,” replied Marianne. “Shall we sit?”
As if coming out of some sort of trance, he practically jumped in place. “Yes, of course,” he said as he pulled out the chair for her. This time he was more careful as he pushed in her chair than he had been with her mother.
“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude by not sitting next to you,” the Duke said as he took his seat at the head of the table, “but Charles, that is Mr. Ludlow, told me that this was where the D
uke sits.” He looked down at his plate with great skepticism, but then looked back up with a smile.
Marianne covered her mouth and pretended to cough to stifle her giggle. Then her eyes fell on a small drinking glass with a few red and yellow flowers placed in it, the stems cut at different lengths and the flowers clearly dropped in the glass, for they lacked any semblance of an arrangement.
“I picked those myself so we’d have something nice to look at during dinner,” he said when he saw her looking at them. “Do you like them?”
“I do,” Marianne said. “They are beautiful. Thank you for your thoughtfulness.”
The Duke grinned and then turned in his chair, his arm over the back of it. “Barnsworth, can you bring our food, if you don’t mind.”
“Indeed, Your Grace,” the butler replied. “Would you prefer that I serve the wine first?”
“Sure, that’d be fine.”
The man went to a small table and returned with a bottle in his hand. The first glass he poured was for the Duke.
The Duke picked up the glass and went to take a sip but then looked first at Marianne and then her mother over the top of the glass. “Oh,” he said as he sat the glass back on the table. “Sorry. I should’ve waited.”
“Not to worry, Your Grace,” Marianne assured him as the butler poured her glass after already pouring her mother’s, though she had to stop herself from beginning his instruction first. Observation was the only task they had at the moment.
“Back at the pub I used to drink at, Molly, well she was a friendly woman, if you know what I mean.” He threw his head back and laughed as if he had said something humorous.
Marianne gaped at him. The poor man had little idea what was considered appropriate for the dinner table, that was clear.
“Anyway,” he continued, as if what he had said was of no consequence, and stood, “she would always say, ‘Life and love. Live one and chase the other’.” With that, he raised his glass in a toast and gulped the entire measure at one fell swoop.
Marianne’s mother shot her a horrified look. It was clear she knew the hard work that lay ahead of them as much as Marianne.
“Why are you ladies so quiet?”
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Blithe said, “a lady oftentimes will not begin a conversation; it is expected that the man do so. Is there a topic you would like to entertain?”
“Entertain? I’m supposed to entertain you?” The poor man had such a look of utter confusion on his face, Marianne could not help but feel sorry for him. He did have much to learn. It would be well worth it once they completed the task, but who knew how long it would take to see him ready for society?
“Perhaps I should restate my mother’s question,” Marianne said. “Is there a subject of interest that you wish to discuss?”
“Oh! Well, let me think.” He placed his elbows on the table and rubbed his nose. Mrs. Blithe paled to the point that she came close to matching the white on her gown. “Oh, I know! Tell me about your life, Miss Blithe. Do you like going to pubs or do you just attend fancy parties?”
Marianne came close to spitting out the wine she had just sipped. She dabbed at her mouth with a napkin and then forced a smile. “Well, as it is, I do not go to pubs. However, I am not of the ton, so the ‘fancy’ parties of which you speak are not quite as ornate as those you will attend once you are ready.”
He seemed to consider her words and then turned to her mother with another question.
As the ‘discussion’ continued, Marianne stole glances at the man. He was handsome but so unrefined. Yes, a challenge was the exact word that described the road she and her mother had before them, but Marianne had no doubt they would be successful in their endeavors, if only so she could prove to her father her worth.
***
Later that evening, after dinner had been cleared and the Duke had retired for the evening, Marianne and her mother sat in the parlor with Mr. Ludlow. Dinner had been an experience unlike any she had ever experienced, and with each passing minutes she began to doubt the Duke would be prepared for society no matter how much time they spent with him. She did feel a bit guilty for looking down on the man, for it was not his fault that he had been raised without consideration for his manners. Some men were simply not cut out to be gentlemen.
“Miss Blithe, Mrs. Blithe, your assessment of the situation, if you please,” Mr. Ludlow said from his high-back chair across from where the two women sat one of three settees.
“Well, Sir, he is a kind soul,” her mother replied. “Of course, being a Duke, it is difficult to find any fault in him.” She gave Marianne a small smile.
Mr. Ludlow shook his head. “The standards of societal pleasantries may be dropped for now, Madam. Please, speak openly and honestly, for it is in his best interests that we know what lay ahead.”
Her mother shot Marianne a quick glance and then sighed. “Very well, then. The man does not hesitate to speak, which might be considered an admirable quality; however, his words could cause great embarrassment. He has no concept of table manners nor of some of the most basic of societal mannerisms. I must admit that there is much work to do to get the man ready for any sort of introduction to society.”
Mr. Ludlow nodded and then turned to Marianne. “And what do you believe?” he asked her. “Is it possible to have him ready in two months’ time when the ton begins to send out invitations to parties? I do not doubt the invitations will come, but what I fear is how they will receive him when he arrives.”
Marianne hesitated for a moment, but her mother gave her an encouraging nod. “My mother is correct in her assessment of the man. I believe that two months may be possible, but it will be a challenge indeed in such a short time.”
“I see.” The man rose from his chair. “I have little doubt it will be difficult; however, I believe you both are up to the task. As I said previously, this will be your home for the time being. Do not hesitate to ask for anything, especially in regards to your instruction with His Grace, but I do thankful you have accepted this challenge.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ludlow,” her mother said as she walked him to the door. “I am thankful for your confidence in us.”
“I have the utmost faith that you will have great success,” Mr. Ludlow said.
“So, it is two months, then?”
“Yes. I fear any longer would jeopardize the story of your sister’s illness, and word will reach most people of the ton very soon that he is here. I would be happier if it happened later rather than sooner, but keeping such information from the Nobility can, in itself, be a challenge.” He gave her a bow. “Good night to you both.”
Once he was out of the room and his footsteps no longer rang in the hall, Marianne let out a heavy sigh. “Do you believe we can do it, Mother?” she asked. “Can he be ready for socializing in such a short time?”
“We have no choice,” her mother replied. “Tomorrow, we will start with his posture and walking. That alone will take a day of practice, and then we can incorporate its practice into his other areas of instruction.” She went to the door and then stopped and turned back to face Marianne. “If you wish to read for a while, I have no issue with it. Just be sure you do not stay up too late; we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“Yes, I believe I will,” Marianne said as she stood.
“Good night, my dear.”
“Good night, Mother.”
When her mother was gone, Marianne made her way to the library. She stood in the doorway, afraid to enter such a fantastic space. Three of the four walls were lined with dark oak bookcases with carved designs in between each. A tall ladder attached to a type of rail sat against one of the shelves, a method to reach the top shelves she had never seen but of which she had heard. To have so many books one needed a ladder was something she had never encountered before, and the idea she might be able to read every book in this library was a whimsy at best. However, she would try her best to get in as much reading as she could during her stay at Silver Birch Est
ates.
Before she could enter, however, she heard a loud sneeze come from the direction of the ballroom. Curious, she walked further down the hallway and paused just inside the door just as she had done in the library.
The room was immense with two heavy chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Small alcoves lined two of the walls, each with deep scarlet drapes pulled back and gathered at the wall on either side. Gold gilt trimmed the domed ceiling, which had paintings of landscapes on the different panels. At one end, in the corner, sat a raised dais, more than likely meant for the musicians who played at the many parties that had taken place in times past. Several paintings hung in various places along the walls, most likely the estates’ past residents.
For a moment, Marianne forgot why she had walked down to the room she was so taken by what she saw. It did not matter that she had already seen the room before; it still held her captive with its beauty.
“Hello.”
Marianne jumped, now remembering what had drawn her to the room. She grabbed her skirts and dipped into a deep curtsy. “Your Grace,” she said. “I apologize for interrupting. I heard a noise and came to investigate. I hope you do not think me meddlesome.”
He chuckled, a pleasant sound that Marianne found friendly and kind. The man might not be cultured in any way, but he certainly was not disagreeable. “It’s fine. Come over here.”
She walked over to stand beside him and followed his gaze at the two paintings that hung on the wall before him.
“My grandfather and father,” he said in a quiet voice. “My father never told me he was a Duke, or that he was supposed to be Duke, I mean. Did you know that?”
“I did not,” Marianne replied. “I understand that he has already passed?”
“Yes, both he and my mother,” he said with a sad sigh. “I never knew her; she died giving birth to me, and Father died when I was eight. It was hard at first because I didn’t have anyone.” Then he gave her a wide smile. “But I ended up here in the end, so I guess I can’t really complain.”
Return of the Duke Page 5
