A Damsel for the Mysterious Duke

by Bridget Barton

  “Well, it is not light, put it that way,” Georgina said tactfully. “Although it is very tasty.”

  “I think I will give that a miss then,” he said and set down a plate so laden with food that Georgina hardly thought he would have room for pound cake anyway.

  Branton Montgomery sat down and tucked into his breakfast with surprising speed. They sat in silence for some moments, Branton most determined about his breakfast as Georgina nibbled at the last of her pound cake.

  “I expect you will be glad to get away from this place,” Banton said quite suddenly when his meal was just halfway eaten. “It must be annoying for the Duke to be paraded before company everywhere he goes.”

  “I suppose a Duke simply gets used to it.”

  “He certainly accepts it all with good grace. I must admit, I do not think he is in the common way.”

  “He is certainly not an arrogant man,” Georgina agreed and nodded thoughtfully.

  “No, he is very far from what I was expecting,” he said and speared a black pudding on the end of his fork before popping it into his mouth and chewing it thoroughly. He stared off into the distance as he swallowed the great mouthful and then continued, “I suppose I am just used to my father and his idea that a man is nothing without a great title.”

  “Well, I know that the Duke does not think in those terms, and neither do I,” Georgina said encouragingly. “But I understand how perpetual exposure to such ideas might well affect a person.”

  “Thank you, that is very understanding.”

  “And there really is more to life than a title. I cannot help thinking that the responsibilities that come along with it could easily become very tying, binding almost. Perhaps there is more freedom in life without it. After all, a person is then left to themselves, and when left to themselves, a person can simply be himself. I suppose what I am trying to say is that you really are free to follow your own passions in life; you may choose to do whatever suits you and pleases you without worrying that it does not fit the responsibilities of the estate and the county.”

  “You probably think this very silly, but I have never thought of it that way before. I suppose I am too used to hearing my father’s version of things that I have fallen into the habit of feeling myself to be second best.”

  “Well, I suppose somebody has to be born first. But I am bound to say that I would always choose to be born second.”

  “I daresay then it is a case of finding what makes one happy and forgetting about all the rest of it.”

  “Quite so,” Georgina said with a smile and took the last bite of her pound cake. “Would you care for some more tea?” she asked as she lifted the teapot.

  “Yes please.” He had relaxed so much in her company he seemed almost like a brand-new person.

  At that moment, Georgina wondered if she would not be better placed asking her questions of Branton, now that they had become allies. She had already warmed to the young man in those few minutes more than she had to his father over a full week.

  If only she had conversed with him a little more in the last days, perhaps she would have found out something of interest and spared herself that final, dreadful confrontation with Beatrice.

  “Tell me, how do you get along with your Great Aunt Beatrice?”

  “I hardly think of her as my aunt at all. She is, of course, only an aunt by marriage as opposed to blood, and I am afraid to say that I find myself rather glad of that. I know that you came here specifically to see her, Miss Jeffries, but I do not like her at all. In truth, I can hardly imagine that anybody on this earth would have travelled so many miles to see such a spiteful old woman.”

  “Yes, she is rather terse,” Georgina said and nodded vigorously.

  “But then you had never met her before, had you? So, I suppose you had no idea.”

  “To be honest, I did have some idea,” Georgina began cautiously.

  “How so?” Branton looked bright and interested, a far cry from the young man she had first set eyes on just a week before.

  “I saw some old letters from Lady Beatrice to my grandmother, very old letters. Anyway, I am bound to say that the tone of them was far from pleasant. But it did spark my curiosity, I must admit.” Georgina was pleased to see that he looked more interested than ever.

  “Good heavens, what were the letters about, if I am not being too delicate in asking?”

  “No, not at all.” Georgina smiled. “If you know her well, I daresay they will not shock you.” She paused before continuing, “It would appear that my grandmother, Elizabeth Jeffries, was once courting Beatrice’s brother, David. Beatrice had ambition enough for both young women and convinced Elizabeth to set her sights on Baron Jeffries instead. It would seem to have left David brokenhearted, and yet Beatrice’s letters suggested that the idea did not bother her at all.”

  “I can quite imagine that.”

  “I am sure that you know her very well. With her husband having passed so long ago, I suppose your father was already the Earl here before you were born.”

  “Yes, my brother was a baby when my father became the Earl of Wighton. I was not born for another four years.”

  “If your great-aunt is anything like my grandmother, it cannot have been easy growing up in the same house.”

  “Fortunately, she did not live here at the time. She lived with her daughter in the largest lodge out on the estate. We rarely saw her, but I am bound to say that whenever we did, it was far from pleasant.”

  “Did you get on with her daughter? What was her name?”

  “Esme Montgomery,” he said and squinted as if he was looking back into the past. “I liked her, what I knew of her. But she always seemed so sad, and Beatrice rarely brought her to the hall with her when she came. She was quite reclusive, I suppose.”

  “And she passed away quite young, I believe?” Georgina said gently.

  “Yes, not long after she went away, I believe.”

  “Went away?”

  “I am afraid that I cannot remember all the details, Miss Jeffries, but Esme Montgomery had suffered some sort of mental frailty. I never saw the evidence of it myself, but I was just a child, and I rarely saw her anyway. Even when I think of her now, I cannot draw to mind any conversation I had with her. All I have is a simple impression of her from afar, so pale and fair, and a look of what I suppose one might call melancholy.”

  Something about his description of Esme Montgomery gave Georgina a chill. She could not help thinking that he was describing the young lady who had paced the lawns of Ashdown Manor before being roughly drawn away by Georgina’s grandmother. Could that have been Esme Montgomery?

  “You said she went away?”

  “Yes, I believe it became necessary for Beatrice to have her committed to an asylum. It was some years ago, and I was just a boy really. And I have a recollection that she had not been there for very long before she passed away.”

  “That really is so very sad.”

  “Yes, it is when one thinks of it. I must admit, I do not think of her very often, but when I do, I truly get a sense of that melancholy. I was only young, as I have said, but I am certain that she was a very far cry from her own mother. I do not think that Beatrice had much regard for her, as I recall.”

  “No, the way she has spoken of her to me these last days would lead me to conclude the very same.”

  “Tell me, Miss Jeffries, was it worth coming all this way to see her?”

  “In some ways, yes,” Georgina said thoughtfully. “It is true that I have found her extraordinarily unpleasant, even more unpleasant than the dreadful letters I found would have suggested. But I suppose it has satisfied that curiosity and stopped me wondering about the sort of woman who could be so very callous and casual with her own brother’s feelings.”

  “Yes, I can understand that. And I believe poor David Ellington has lived a very lonely sort of a life. He never married, and now I suppose I understand why. Perhaps he never stopped loving your grandmother, Miss Jef
fries.”

  “Perhaps not. The idea that he spent the rest of his life alone is very sad, and I must admit that it makes me a little ashamed of my grandmother for her behaviour. After all, we cannot blame the whole thing upon Beatrice.”

  “I have never met David, but I imagine that he is a very nice man. As far as I know, he has had no contact with Beatrice for many years, and now I daresay I have the reason why. But I am sure that he lives a happier life without her, and even if he has kept to himself all these years, from what you say about your grandmother, he was likely better off without her too.” Branton looked apologetic.

  “Yes, I cannot help but agree. I knew my grandmother well enough, and suffice it to say that I did not mourn her passing,” Georgina said and then a thought came to her suddenly. “Forgive me, but you talk of David Ellington as if he still lives. Is that the case?”

  “Yes, as far as I am aware, he still lives. I know that he and Beatrice were not close, but she would most certainly have received notification if he had passed away, for she would be his only surviving relative. An heiress to his estate, I daresay.”

  “Where does he live?”

  “As far as I know, he is still in Devonshire. I have a recollection of Beatrice saying he had sold the old family home when he inherited it, but I understood that he did not go far.”

  “Oh, how interesting. I wonder where he is now,” Georgina said airily, although she truly had every intention of discovering the whereabouts of David Ellington.

  “If you ever happen upon the old chap, do give him my best. I know I have never met him, but I do have some sympathy with him,” Branton said and then turned his attention to the remainder of his breakfast.

  “I most certainly shall,” Georgina said gently. “And thank you, you really have been more helpful than you could possibly know.” How glad she was to have happened upon Branton Montgomery that morning, for she was certain he had been of more help than his father would have been.

  “You are welcome, Miss Jeffries,” he said and looked genuinely pleased to have been able to help her.

  Chapter 29

  “I do hope he is not too frail, Georgie. I should hate to do or say anything to upset the man. After all, he had enough to put up with in the early part of his life, did he not?” Emerson said as his carriage bore them just ten miles north to the little town of Kellerton where David Ellington now lived.

  They had been returned from Cornwall just four days before Jeremy and Fleur were once again covering for the pair as they met in secret and set off for the home of David Ellington.

  Emerson had set his attorney the task of discovering David Ellington’s whereabouts the moment they returned to Devonshire and, efficient as always, the man had come up with an address for him within a matter of days.

  Georgina had given Emerson the full details of her final conversation with Beatrice in the carriage as they drove back from Cornwall. She had begun a little tentatively, and then he had assured her that she might speak freely in front of Jeremy and Fleur since they already knew everything there was to know about him to date.

  Fleur had been more affected at the retelling of Beatrice’s threat than anybody. She immediately beseeched Emerson to accept life as it was and to not upset the world that was now his.

  Jeremy had also been cautious, but far less so, stating that Emerson should simply hold off his inquiries until he had received firm news that Beatrice Montgomery had finally passed away.

  But Emerson had been of the same mind as Georgina on the matter and stated that he would continue to make gentle inquiries on the assumption that a bedridden old woman would never get to hear of it anyway.

  The four young people had talked the whole thing back and forth over many miles as they made their way home. In the end, they had come to a consensus and had decided that gentle inquiries could not hurt as long as secrecy was maintained.

  Georgina realized that her retelling of her interviews with Beatrice had been so thorough that she had inadvertently persuaded the rest that the old woman had some sort of supernatural powers and that she would know by instinct if they continued in their search for the Duke’s true origins. And if she was honest, Georgina had almost come to believe the ridiculous little idea herself.

  “Well, we are not bursting in on him unannounced, Sammy. He responded almost immediately to my letter and seems very keen that we should meet,” Georgina said.

  “Perhaps he has only agreed to see you because you are Elizabeth’s grandchild. Perhaps he thinks that you will look like her or somehow remind him of her.”

  “I do hope not,” Georgina said with a shudder. “Really, you remember my grandmother as well as I do, and I am sure that you can see that I look nothing like her.”

  “But you and I only knew her as an ageing woman, Georgie. Perhaps she was very beautiful when she was young, and perhaps there might be a resemblance there, however much you would wish to deny it.”

  “Is this mischief, Sammy, or are you being quite serious?” Georgina said and almost laughed at her own haughty tone.

  “I daresay it is a little of both, with a little emphasis on the former rather than the latter.”

  “Well, thank heavens for that,” Georgina said and laughed before turning serious. “Forgive me for saying it again, Sammy, but do you think it is sensible for you to come in also? I mean, what if David contacts his sister, and she discovers that you were here asking questions? Is it not just a little dangerous?”

  “If she finds out that you were here, it is the same thing. She is a remarkably clever old woman, Georgina. I know I did not meet her, but from everything you said I simply know it. She had discerned my identity before we had even arrived. She knew that Samuel White had somehow been elevated to the status of a Duke, so if she ever hears that you have been to see her brother, I am sure that she would treat the matter exactly the same whether I am here in attendance or not. It is just a risk that I shall have to take, and I am prepared to take it. Georgie, I have been lied to and deflected in my questioning for so many years that I will not allow one more ageing person with secrets to rule my life ever again. Whatever she is protecting means as much to her as finding out my identity means to me. She might well be convincing in her assertion that she will squash me like a bug, but I can only think that so fierce an attack comes from a deep sense of fear.”

  “You mean that we shall uncover something that she does not want uncovered?”

  “Exactly that, and so I say let us uncover it, Georgie.” He reached sideways and took her hand. “Let us uncover it all, for good or for ill.”

  When they finally arrived, it was to find a very neat and well-appointed little manor house in a particularly pretty part of Devonshire. Kellerton, whilst not on the coast as Rowley was, was easily its rival in terms of rolling meadows and soft and pretty countryside.

  David Ellington’s home was rather larger than she had expected, and the door was answered by a bright and smiling housekeeper in late middle age.

  “Your Grace,” she said and smiled warmly as she curtsied. “And Miss Jeffries,” she went on and curtsied again. “Mr Ellington is expecting you in the drawing room. I will show you the way, and then I shall bring you all some tea.”

  “Thank you kindly,” Emerson said as they followed the housekeeper through the entrance hall and down a narrow corridor.

  When they were shown into the drawing room, David Ellington was far from the man that Georgina had imagined. From the moment she had read his heartfelt letter to her grandmother, she had imagined him to be in some way delicate, slim, and with aquiline features and a sensitive face.

  But this man, despite his advancing years, was upright and strong and had a surprising build indeed. Anybody looking upon David Ellington in his dotage could be easily persuaded that he had spent his life tending a busy farm.

  He was upright, and his shoulders were broad, although whatever muscle had once been there was surely wasting. And yet even in his old age, he was not stooped in
any way. When he had risen from his seat to greet them, it had not been as a creaking old man, but rather as a well-kept man who still had a fine degree of fitness.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Jeffries,” he said and smiled at her, his eyes, although as dark as his sister’s, seeming kindly and bright.

  He inclined his head graciously and then turned to Emerson.

  “Good afternoon, Your Grace.” As he tipped his head forward once more, Georgina could see that there was very little difference in height between the two men, and she found her spirits suddenly soaring when she realized that David Ellington was by no means the pitiful creature she had imagined.

  Somehow his health and vitality, the fact that he was not also bedridden, seemed to her like a victory over his sister Beatrice. And a victory very well deserved, she was sure.