A Damsel for the Mysterious Duke

by Bridget Barton

  “He was your father, Your Grace. Really, I know he was. I knew that man as well as any servant can know their master, and I am telling you that you are his son.”

  “And the Duchess?” he said and studied her carefully. When she did not respond, he continued, “It is alright, Mrs Thistlethwaite. I already know that the Duchess was not my mother and did not even know of my existence. My father told me that much at least, even if he told me little else.”

  “Your Grace, I truly do not know what to say. I can only beseech you once again to let go of this thing, let it lay.”

  “Who was my mother?” he said suddenly.

  “In truth, Your Grace, I have no idea. I swear to you that I would tell you now if I knew it, but I do not. You think that I had more information than I ever truly did. But all I have in reality is my own thoughts and suppositions, nothing more. But you must know that there are only Mr Murray and me here who would have the smallest idea something was amiss. None of the other servants have been here long enough to know anything different, and I would beg you again to keep this thing quiet, to say nothing more of it, to stop thinking of it even.”

  “But I do not know who I am.”

  “You are the Duke; the son of the old Duke.”

  “My father said that he and the Duchess had never been able to have any children. I cannot help thinking that I could be anybody. I cannot help thinking that I am here simply because the two of them could not conceive a child.”

  “No, the Duke really was your father. I do not know who your mother was, Your Grace, but I know that there was … Someone,” she said, and her cheeks flushed.

  “Forgive me for causing you embarrassment, Mrs Thistlethwaite, but you must tell me everything.”

  “I do not know who the lady was, but there was something about your father in those days. He loved the Duchess, he really did, but she had become an invalid almost as soon as they were married. It was clear to everybody then that she would not live into old age and clearer still that the poor thing could do nothing more than dwell in her own illness and unhappiness. I do not believe that there was a thing left for your father, and I cannot blame him, even if the Lord himself does, for seeking some solace elsewhere.”

  “But was there ever a lady you suspected?”

  “No, I do not think I can ever have seen the lady. I would have known it, for I would have been able to see it in your father’s eyes. All I can tell you is that he loved this woman, whoever she was. He was content in those days, but I know that it did not last long. Something had changed, and they had parted, I was sure. And I was sure because he looked so bereft; so bereft that I had wondered if the lady had died.”

  “And did you know that I was this lady’s son? When I arrived all those years later, did he say anything to you?”

  “No, your father simply repeated the history that was to be given should anybody ask. He made it very clear that we would not discuss it again beyond that day. And Mr Murray and I made it very clear that we accepted that history as truth, and that was all there was to it.”

  “I see.”

  “But I had wondered, Your Grace. I had thought back to those days and realized that you were of an age to have been born out of that old love.”

  “Thank you, Mrs Thistlethwaite.”

  “Your Grace, please think about what I have said. Please do not disturb things, just let them be. I know that your father was a good man, and he had his reasons. But whatever those reasons, I would not wish you to hurt your own life by trying to discover them.”

  “You really are very kind, Mrs Thistlethwaite,” Emerson said with a smile. “I know that I put you in a dreadful position, and I hope I have not upset you.”

  “Not at all, Your Grace,” she said with a smile and rose to her feet. “So, shall I begin to make plans for the summer ball, Your Grace? Perhaps you would like some assistance with the list of guests?”

  “Whenever you are ready to help me, Mrs Thistlethwaite, I shall be ready to receive your help,” Emerson said and rose to his feet and bowed at the housekeeper, smiling at her warmly. “And I shall not put you through this again.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace,” she said and nodded before turning to silently leave.

  Chapter 16

  “So, where is your cousin now?” Emerson said as the two of them waited for their tea and cakes to arrive.

  When the Duke had responded to her letter by return of post, Georgina had felt strangely excited.

  She knew it was just Sammy, of course, but he was still a very fine man about whom she still knew so little, and his keenness to see her had thrilled her just a little. She knew, of course, that he might merely be keen to find out what else she had discovered in her quest to help him get to the bottom of the great mystery of his life.

  And yet, at the same time, he was such a fine and handsome young man that Georgina could not help letting her attention wander just a little.

  He was as immaculately dressed as ever in varying shades of brown when he arrived in the tearoom, and his thick ashen hair, although tamed somewhat, still gave every appearance of making ready to break free at the earliest opportunity. When she thought how much she might have liked to run her hand through that hair, Georgina felt her cheeks flush and quickly busied herself in withdrawing the three letters from her small drawstring purse.

  “My cousin is spending a happy hour or so in the haberdashery choosing some fabric and lace for a new gown.”

  “I must admit to feeling a little guilty that she is always left on the outside. Still, as much as I would wish to include her and as much as I trust your judgement and do not mind how much you tell her, I am not quite sure that I am ready to speak so freely in front of another.”

  “And I understand that entirely, just as my cousin would,” she said and handed him the first of the letters.

  “So, these are the other letters that your Great Aunt Belle discovered, are they not?”

  “It is just the first of them, Sammy,” she said and lowered her voice. “And I can assure you that Mirabelle Allencourt knows nothing of this. She knows only that I am trying to solve something that my grandmother did, but she is not pressing me for any details, so you must rest easy in that regard.”

  “I trust your judgement entirely, Georgie. You are the only person in this world I do trust completely, and that is the truth.”

  As soon as he seemed to have finished the first letter, Georgina surreptitiously took it from him and handed him the next. They remained in an easy silence while he read all three, the only three that she and Fleur had devoured to date.

  “Good heavens, that a family could behave in such a way. I cannot help but feel sorry for this David, whoever he is.”

  “It may seem a little strange for me to be showing you these, but I cannot help thinking that this might have firmed up a strain of inquiry we have talked of before.”

  “How so?” he said and screwed his handsome face up in confusion. There was something about the unguarded little expression that reminded her so much of the boy he had once been that Georgina had to blink rapidly. She was so touched by it that she could have cried. “I mean, surely these letters between Beatrice … Ellington, is it? Anyway, these letters were surely written many years before I was born.”

  “Yes, but I think they lead me to suspect that whatever it was my grandmother knew, Beatrice knew it also. We had known them to be friends before, but such heartless schemers?”

  “And it really is clear now that your grandmother played a great part in the earliest days of my life, is it not? I must admit when I read your letter and learned that your grandmother had carried me into Ashdown Manor as nothing but a babe in arms, I was quite upended by it. I cannot imagine ever being in that woman’s arms.” He shuddered.

  “Fear not, for I think it was the only time,” Georgina said and began to laugh at his expression. “But I am afraid that you were probably in her arms longer than I ever was.”

  “These letters do not di
splay your grandmother in a fine light, do they?”

  “Nor her friend.”

  “No indeed, if anything, this Beatrice, or Bea, seems a good deal worse. A woman like that can only have been created by the Devil, surely?”

  “Yes, and I wonder if she has enjoyed better health and longevity than my grandmother.”

  “You think she might still be alive?”

  “There is always the hope. My only problem is that I have no idea how we are to discover it.”

  “I think that would be a simple enough thing. I will get my new attorney to make some inquiries in Cornwall.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, he does not need to know what it is about, and so there will be no suspicion. And I cannot imagine for a moment that he would begin to hazard a guess, do you?”

  “Quite so,” she said and nodded.

  “The two of us here making a little scheme reminds me of all those years ago when your family held that dance at Christmas, and we hatched our little plan to hide in the cupboard at the top of the stairs until it was safe to come out and peer down at them all through the stair rail,” he said and looked at her intently.

  “Oh, my goodness, I had forgotten about that,” Georgina replied and smiled as the memory of childish excitement tinged with fear came back to her.

  The two of them had planned the thing for days, and she had been completely surprised when they had been able to work it to perfection. They had hidden in the cupboard for no more than half an hour, but to two young children, it had felt like forever. They had giggled excitedly and hushed one another in turn, keen to chatter, and keener still not to be discovered. It had been such an exciting evening, the planning and execution of which were far more exciting than watching her family and their friends had finally turned out to be.

  “I remember it so well,” he said in low tones. “It was so thrilling.”

  “Yes, much more thrilling than my family’s little party seemed to be, at any rate,” she remarked, and they both began to laugh.

  “I cannot thank you enough for helping me all these years later, Georgie. And all these years later I am not ashamed to tell you that you are still my only friend. I sometimes think you always shall be.”

  “When you are more settled in the world and in your own heart, Sammy, you will make friends. When you realize that your place in the world is right and yours, you will be able to relax and trust again, I am sure of it. But either way, I will always be your friend, and we shall never lose touch now that we have found one another again.”

  “I never forgot you, even when I began to doubt my own memories and the truth of life at Ashdown Manor; still I never forgot you. I never doubted for a moment that you existed, and I think that you were the only reason that I did not give in to it all entirely and come to believe the lie that my father had insisted upon for more than a decade.”

  “Things were never the same for me after you left, Sammy. My mother tried so hard to put me in the path of girls my own age in the hopes that I would be content once more. But it was all to no avail, for I was never content with any friend but you. I was just too sad to be able to open my heart again in friendship, and I think the acquaintances I developed over the years could feel that very clearly. As much as I bemoan my lot and say that they have wandered this way and that away from me in their search for husbands, I think that they always knew I was not a firm friend in the first place. As much as I blame them out loud, I do not blame them in my heart. I never had a true care for any of them, and I know that I have been lonely these last years because I kept myself so. There, that is my secret, Sammy. I have admitted to you what I have admitted to nobody else in this world.”

  “Well, to keep your secret is the very least that I can do, is it not? Especially after all that you have done for me.”

  “When my grandmother passed away, I had thought that there would be no impediments to our friendship anymore. If only I had realized then that we had but a few weeks left in each other’s company before we would be so cruelly parted.”

  “I wonder if your grandmother’s passing had anything to do with my departure from Ashdown Manor?” he said thoughtfully.

  “Yes, I see what you mean. That it was somehow easier then for your father to send Garrett Winstanley to come and collect you. And if my grandmother had not wished it, had she still been alive, then I am sure not even the Duke could have got past her.”

  “I am inclined to agree with that,” he said and shuddered again. “I do not think my father would have been a match for her at all.”

  “Then my grandmother must surely have known the identity of your mother. And she must have known that the Duchess was not at all aware of her husband’s indiscretion, and she could perhaps have held the Duke at bay with such knowledge.”

  “And I am sure that it would have worked entirely, for I know that he had never intended to hurt his wife with his affair. As Mrs Thistlethwaite tells me, there was a lot of sadness in my father’s life and marriage, and it seems quite human that he sought solace elsewhere.”

  “Mrs Thistlethwaite?” Georgina said, loud enough to draw attention from two ladies taking tea clear across the other side of the room. “Oh, sorry,” she said and flushed.

  “Yes, forgive me; I should have mentioned it earlier. I had a heartfelt conversation with Mrs Thistlethwaite yesterday afternoon, for I have always known she could not have believed the story of my childhood illnesses for a moment.”

  “And she did not?”

  “No, of course not. But she is as faithful to the Duchy of Calder now as she has ever been, and she was so firm in begging me to forget the whole thing that I am confident that she will never speak of it to anybody.”

  “But what passed between you?” Georgina said, full of curiosity.

  “Well, if we can leave your poor dear cousin another twenty minutes in the haberdashery, I will tell you,” he said with a laugh and then gently reached out to touch her hand.

  Chapter 17

  It was a fine, warm day for walking, and there was every sign that summer would arrive in Devonshire at any moment. And Emerson was pleased not only for his own sake but for the sake of Georgina’s health, given that she was still supposed to be convalescing.

  Still, it was clear that Felix Allencourt could not have objected to the idea of his young relation taking a walk along the seafront, for Georgina had responded to Emerson’s brief note almost immediately and declared that she would, indeed, meet him by the Rowley pavilion at eleven o’clock.

  Emerson was early, extraordinarily early, and he had already walked some way down the promenade before turning to make his way back towards the pavilion once more. In truth, he was beginning to feel a little conspicuous, exactly like a young man waiting for a young woman; a young man who was so nervous that he had arrived with an hour to spare.

  Of course, nobody was really paying him any particular attention. Despite being the Duke of Calder, he was so little-known in Devonshire that he was able to stride around the little village of Rowley without drawing any attention to himself. No doubt as the years went by, and he became more established in his role, more and more people would recognize him, and he would not find it such an easy thing to go about in blessed anonymity.

  Emerson really was nervous, though, that much was true. And he knew that his nerves were certainly not connected with his discovery, the revelation of which was ostensibly the purpose of their meeting.

  No, Emerson was coming to think a great deal of Georgina. Not that he had not always thought a good deal of her, but he was beginning to see her very differently. He was truly beginning to take notice of the woman his old friend had become and, with the fear of discovery all gone, and everything known between them, Emerson had been able to relax enough to see her with fresh eyes.

  She really was very beautiful, with her fine pale hair and sparkling blue eyes. Her skin was a blemish-free pale peach-cream, and it seemed to glow with health, despite her recent malady. There was
a straightforwardness in her manner of dress which reminded him a little of how she had been as a child.

  Georgina Jeffries had never been keen on the overly fussy gowns or hairstyles, always choosing simplicity over ostentation. He remembered well how the cook or housekeeper at Ashdown Manor would try now and again to straighten a ribbon or smooth ringlets as the young Georgina flew past them on her way to the stables or the gardens. And he remembered equally well how Georgina had ducked away from them, intent upon whatever plan she had and having no time to be beautified in preparation for it.

  He laughed to himself as he turned to stare out to sea, tilting his chin so that he might feel the warmth of the sun on his face. Georgina had not changed a great deal in some respects, although it was true to say that she no longer needed her hair smoothed by a passing member of the household staff. Still, she maintained that same simplicity, only now it served to highlight her very real beauty.