Miss Dane and the Duke

by Louise Allen

  Without answering, Marcus strode across to the fireplace and tugged the bell pull sharply. Antonia turned away from him to hide her flushed cheeks and stared out stormily across the tranquil park. Behind her she heard him order, ‘My curricle, at once.’

  A furious silence hung in the room until they heard the crunch of gravel beneath hooves. Marcus took her by the elbow in a none-too-gentle grip and marched her out of the door and down the steps to the curricle.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Antonia demanded when she found herself seated on the high-perch seat. She had not struggled with him in front of the servants, but she had every intention of demanding he let her down the moment they were out of sight of the house. ‘How dare you manhandle me? Stop and let me down at once.’

  ‘No, there is something you should, and will, see.’ All she could see of Marcus’s face was his grim profile.

  ‘If you do not let me down, I will jump,’ Antonia threatened, gathering her skins in readiness.

  In response, he transferred the reins and the whip to his right hand, throwing his left arm across her to pinion her to her seat. The horses, unsettled by the sudden shift of balance, plunged in the shafts and broke into a canter.

  Antonia felt herself thrown back against the seat, his arm like an iron bar across her. ‘Do not be such a damn fool,’ he snarled, controlling the horses one-handed.

  It was only a few minutes before he drew up in front of a lodge at one of the side gates into the park. Another vehicle, a modest gig, was standing outside. As Marcus handed her down, Antonia recognised the local doctor emerging from the back door of the lodge.

  ‘Your Grace. Miss Dane, good day to you. A bad business this, but he is young and strong and will come to no harm in the end. I will call again tomorrow.’

  ‘Thank you, Dr Rush. Whatever he needs, he must have. You will send your account to me.’

  The doctor mounted into his gig and drove away with a polite wave of his whip. ‘Why have you brought me here?’ Antonia asked, an unpleasant foreboding overcoming her anger.

  ‘To see the handiwork of your innocent and starving tenants,’ Marcus replied tautly. He pushed open the door without knocking and ushered her through.

  Antonia found herself in a small but neat kitchen. A little girl was rocking a cradle by the hearth. She turned a tear-stained face towards them and Marcus patted her gently on the head. ‘Are you being a good girl and helping your mother, Jenny?’ The child, no more than four, nodded mutely. ‘We will just go and see your father. The doctor says he will soon be well, so don’t you cry now.’

  In the back room, a woman was spooning water between the lips of the man laying on the bed. When she saw Marcus, she put down the spoon and laid the man gently back against the bolster. ‘Oh, Your Grace…’

  ‘Do not get up, Mrs Carling. How is he?’

  Antonia realised with horror that the man so limp and helpless on the bed was Nat Carling the underkeeper. His head was swathed in bandages, his eyes were black and blue and his nose askew. He seemed barely conscious, except for a faint groan which escaped his lips every time he breathed.

  ‘In a deal of pain, Your Grace. The doctor says his ribs are broke, but his skull’s not cracked, thank the Lord.’

  ‘What has happened to him?’ Antonia asked, although, with a sinking heart, she could guess.

  ‘It was them Johnsons, the whole pack of them, Miss. Set upon him last night as he came home from the ale-house. Three against one, it was,’ the woman added bitterly. ‘And them with cudgels. If Vicar hadn’t have been coming back from Berkhamsted and disturbed them, my Nat’d be dead now, for sure.’

  ‘But why?’ Antonia asked, appalled, staring down at the bruised face on the pillow, the stubble stark on the deathly-pale face.

  ‘He’d reported them to the Duke for poaching again, ma’am. Setting snares all through his Grace’s Home Wood, they were, t’other night, bold as brass. Ran off when Nat and his old dog disturbed them, but he could see ’em by the moon.’

  ‘But to beat him so…’

  ‘And kick him, too,’ Marcus said grimly. ‘Let me have a look at those ribs, Nat lad.’ He eased back the coarse sheet and Antonia gasped at the sight of the man’s ribs, covered in bruises with the clear marks of hobnails on the flesh.

  Antonia turned away, her hands pressed to her mouth, nausea rising. She heard Marcus behind her, talking low-voiced to the woman, assuring her the doctor’s bills would be met and promising that the housekeeper would send down food and cordials from the house daily. ‘One of the stable lads will come down and sleep in your shed, Mrs Carling. He can do the heavy work and help you with Nat. Now do not fret, he will mend soon.’

  Outside Antonia gripped the side of the curricle, taking great gulps of the warn dusty air. Marcus took her arm and began to walk back into the park, leaving the horses standing. ‘You are not going to faint,’ he stated.

  Antonia looked up at him, startled by his frigid tone. ‘What has happened to that man is terrible.’

  ‘Indeed it is, and much to your discredit.’

  ‘Mine? What have I to do with it?’

  ‘You have coddled and encouraged not only the deserving and unfortunate amongst your tenants, but the rogues also. They laugh at you for being so gullible. What did you think you were about?’ His voice grew harsher as she turned, hurt and bewildered, to look into his face.

  ‘But they were starving. I only sought to feed them.’

  Marcus took her by the shoulders and shook her. ‘You fool, all you did was to teach them to steal. You have undermined the right of the law. Why did you not employ your own keepers? You could have instructed them to take the birds and distribute them to the deserving and those in genuine need and you would have given the keepers respectable employment besides.’

  ‘Why did you not tell me sooner?' Antonia stammered. ‘It never occurred to me to employ keepers because I had no intention of preserving game for sport. I thought I was doing good, helping my tenants.’

  ‘I did not know myself the lengths to which you had gone. Sparrow only told me today what has been the talk of the alehouses for weeks. I was coming to tell you of it this morning, but you were otherwise engaged.’

  ‘Why did not Sparrow speak to you sooner? I so wish he had,’ she said miserably. ‘I have misjudged the man.’

  There was an uncomfortable pause. ‘He felt there was a degree of attachment between us that would make it impossible for him to speak critically of you without offending me.’

  ‘How foolish of him,’ Antonia replied between stiff lips.

  ‘Indeed, it seems so,’ Marcus said, dropping his hands from her shoulders.

  She shivered, feeling bereft without his touch. ‘Can you recommend a suitable man to act as keeper for me? And is there any other foolishness of mine which you should draw to my attention before I do any further damage?’ she added, trying to keep the bitterness from her voice.

  ‘l will find someone for you, if that is what you wish. As to your… misjudgements, perhaps you will remember that I recommended you to return to London. It would have been as well for all of us if you had taken that advice.’

  Antonia turned her head away so he could not see the tears starting in her eyes. He could not have put it more plainly: he wished rid of her, and her instincts from the beginning had been correct. Marcus, having failed to secure her lands, now wanted her out of his sight.

  ‘I must thank you for an instructive afternoon, Your Grace,’ she said, her head still averted. ‘l trust you will let me know if there is anything I can do to assist Mrs Carling and her family. Good day.’

  ‘Let me drive you home, Antonia.’ Marcus put a hand on her arm, but she shook it off angrily. ‘We should not part this way. I spoke harshly in my anger, but we can deal better together than this.’

  ‘I am grateful for your concern, but we are neighbours, nothing more.’

  ‘We have been more than that, and could be again.’ He put his fingers under her chin, tur
ning her face to his. Before she could protest he bent. his head and kissed her lightly on the lips, then turned and walked away.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘I can hear a carriage,’ Donna remarked, leaving a pile of linen unfolded as she hurried to peep discreetly from the bedroom casement. ‘I wonder who that can be? I do not recognise the barouche.’

  Antonia joined her, attempting to make out the crest on the carriage doors. ‘I do believe it is Lady Finch. How very gracious of her to return our call so promptly.’

  They had called at Rye End Hall two days previously to leave their cards and had been received by Lady Finch herself. Sir Josiah, she had explained, was not with her because he had been detained in London on business, but was expected daily and was looking forward to establishing himself in his new home.

  Lady Finch had proved welcoming and open, delighted to make their acquaintance and full of praise for Rye End Hall and their preparations. She was obviously very well bred, but years abroad had lent a refreshing informality to her manner.

  Antonia had noticed the ready affection that Lady Finch evinced for her nephew: a pastel sketch of him was one of the few pictures that had already been hung. ‘I do hope dear Jeremy has been able to accommodate all your wishes in the arrangements,’ Lady Finch said. ‘He is generally such a thoughtful individual, but you must tell me immediately if anything has been overlooked.’ The warmth and pride that tinged her voice when she spoke of Mr Blake indicated that she regarded him more as a son than a nephew, Antonia had thought.

  ‘Lady Finch,’ Jane announced now, showing the older woman into the drawing-room.

  There was a flurry of greetings and bows before the three were seated, tea poured and macaroon biscuits offered. ‘What a charming old house,’ Lady Finch enthused. ‘After so many years in the Indies, it is such a pleasure to see a fine example of the antique English style. Are you comfortable here? It has a welcoming and homely atmosphere.’

  She was so easy to talk to that the half-hour visit flew by. At length, their guest stood up and drew on her gloves, looking out over the garden as she did so.

  ‘What magnificent roses, Miss Dane. I hope you will allow Sir Josiah to visit your garden. He has lately developed a keen interest in horticulture now we are home again. It is such a struggle to maintain a truly English style in a hot climate: there must be constant irrigation and all one’s favourites just wither and die. I confess that, after a few false starts, we simply gave up.’

  ‘I would be delighted, for gardening is also one of my joys,’ Antonia began when they were interrupted by the sound of carriage wheels on gravel.

  ‘I must bid you farewell, for you have other visitors,’ Lady Finch was saying when the newcomers came into view, trotting up the drive in a smart curricle. ‘Why, it is my husband and Jeremy. What a surprise!’

  The two men were ushered in by Jane, flushed with importance at receiving so many guests in one morning.

  ‘Sir Josiah, I had not looked for you until tomorrow.’ Lady Finch held out her hands to her husband and Antonia was touched by the unfashionable warmth with which he kissed his wife.

  ‘Miss Dane, I must make my husband known to you.’ Antonia curtsied, liking Sir Josiah on sight. Where his wife was thin, her complexion made sallow by years of heat, he was rotund and still tanned on the top of his bald head. His eyes were shrewd, his open face intelligent and cheerful and Antonia felt instinctively that she was meeting an honest man.

  The enlarged party settled again, Sir Josiah accepting a dish of Bohea while he explained that his London business had been accomplished with more expedition than he had expected. He had hurried down, eager to view his new demesne, to be greeted by Jeremy Blake with the news that his wife was visiting Miss Dane.

  ‘Naturally, I could not hesitate to make your acquaintance, ladies. My nephew has told me of your gracious assistance in rendering the Hall all that we would wish it to be.’

  His wife rose, catching his attention. ‘My dear, we must not impose on Miss Dane and Miss Donaldson’s time further this morning. However, I have secured a promise from Miss Dane that she will show you her roses before much longer.’

  ‘Capital! A follow gardener – I could not have wished for better in a neighbour. Lady Finch, tell me, what is the state of our kitchens? When can we hope to entertain? I would wish to hold a dinner party for our good neighbours as soon as may be.’

  ‘Thanks to the perfect order in which all was left, I believe we could name this Saturday. That is, if you are free, ladies?’

  Donna coloured with pleasure at the compliment to her housekeeping as they accepted the invitation. The Finches departed, Sir Josiah begging the honour of sending his carriage over to collect the Dower House party on the appointed evening.

  Donna was obviously burning to discuss their visitors but Jeremy Blake, remaining when his aunt and uncle had gone, forced her to silence.

  ‘I wished to ask if the groom the estate manager sent down met with your approval,’ he enquired. ‘If so, I will arrange to have my carriage horse sent over immediately with the gig.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Fletcher appears a most respectable and willing man,’ Antonia said. ‘He has righted a stall in the old barn, so we can house both horse and carriage suitably.’

  ‘Then would you wish me to drive the gig over tomorrow?’ he asked. He smiled and she found he had caught her gaze and that she was smiling back. ‘And perhaps it would be wise, with a horse that is unfamiliar to you, if I were to accompany you on your first drive.’

  ‘But, Antonia, dear,’ Donna intervened, ‘Have you not told Mr Blake that you never learned to drive?’

  Antonia knew all too well that Donna, having consigned the Duke to the ranks of Unsuitable Suitors, was already looking to Jeremy Blake to replace him. She could only hope he did not spot the unsubtle matchmaking.

  ‘But you must allow me to teach you,’ he offered immediately. ‘It would be my pleasure and I’m sure you will prove an apt pupil.’ Antonia accepted, smiling but uncomfortable. She liked Mr Blake – he was congenial and pleasant and good company – and she wanted to learn to drive, but Donna’s unsubtle encouragement was unwelcome. She could have asked their new groom to instruct her without raising any expectations.

  The parting from Marcus was still bitter. She loved the man, still dreamt of him at night, still longed to see his eyes smiling into hers with that unspoken promise. Donna could switch allegiance for her at the turn of a card, not knowing how strongly her affections were engaged, but her own heart was not so fickle, nor did she wish to give Jeremy Blake false encouragement and perhaps to hurt him.

  Mr Blake was as good as his word and a groom delivered a note the next morning proposing a drive later that day. With it came an invitation from Lady Finch to Donna to take tea.

  ‘She says here that, unless she hears to the contrary, she will send the carriage at three for me.’ Donna’s sallow cheeks were flushed with pleasure at the invitation. ‘How kind her ladyship is, to consider my entertainment while you are engaged.’

  ‘I am sure she is most considerate,’ Antonia agreed. ‘But I am certain she also wishes to become better acquainted with you. After all, you have much in common. Wasn’t your father stationed in several of the places in India she mentioned yesterday?’

  ‘Indeed, he was. What a pleasure it will be to hear her descriptions of those scenes. I wonder if she has any sketch books?’

  Mr Blake arrived at the appointed time, but Donna was not downstairs to admire the gig and the bay gelding he was lending them. She was still in her chamber, dithering over the choice between her three decent day gowns, a most uncharacteristic way for her to carry on.

  Antonia had not needed to dither. She was sensibly dressed for driving in a pale fawn muslin gown with jonquil braid about the hem and a compact bonnet shading her eyes. She pulled on a pair of tan gloves and called up the stairs, ‘l am leaving now, Donna. I will see you later, please give Lady Finch my regards.’


  ‘Where would you like to go, Miss Dane?’ Jeremy enquired as he handed her up into the little carriage and gathered up the reins. ‘It is a very warm day, and the flies are so bad in the park, I wondered if you would care to drive out onto the Downs. There will be a breeze and a fine view and I found a trackway the other day where you can take the reins without fear of other traffic.’

  ‘That would be delightful,’ Antonia agreed. ‘I think I know where you mean, and I had intended to go there myself one day, but the weather has turned far too hot for such a long walk.’

  ‘You would not consider such a distance on foot, surely?’ Jeremy’s eyebrows shot up as he turned left into the lane. ‘It is all of three miles in each direction. You are a most energetic walker, Miss Dane, if you considered such an expedition.’

  ‘Why so surprised, Mr Blake? Did you think me a drawing room miss who would never deign to do more than stroll around a pleasure garden? I must confess to enjoying vigorous exercise. Why, if I thought Donna would permit it, I would even dig the garden.’

  ‘I never thought you a conventional young lady, Miss Dane. Making your acquaintance over the past few weeks has convinced me that you are quite out of the ordinary. Ah, here is the start of the track. Would you care to take the reins now?’

  ‘Yes, please. I have been observing how you handle them and I believe I can manage, if he only walks to start with.’

  Jeremy pulled up and transferred the reins into Antonia’s hands. ‘It is not so very different to riding when you are driving only one horse, more complicated with a pair, of course. Yes, you have got it just right.’ There was a fleeting pressure of reassurance from his fingers through the leather of her gloves.

  Antonia clicked her tongue and shook the reins and the gelding walked docilely forward, little puffs of chalky dust rising as his hooves struck the hard ground.

  The hot air was full of the vanilla scent of gorse blossom. Overhead larks sang and spiralled out of sight in the cloudless blue sky and Chalk Blue and Fritillary butterflies danced away from the horse’s progress.