The Duke's Secrets

by Abby Ayles

  * * *

  Despite the setback, Lady Elridge slowly continued to recover. The doctors were again impressed with her strong constitution and speedy recovery, and she was to be discharged by that week’s end. In the meantime, a letter finally arrived from Mary's father explaining that he had only just received Mary's letter, as well as the notes from the physician, and that he would endeavour to be home for when they arrived. Lady Elridge, during her time in that locked-in state, had plenty of time to think about her daughter's circumstance.

  “Mary, it pains me to say this, but we cannot dwell upon the past. Duke Haskett would have been a good match for you. And yet now there is no possibility of that marriage taking place,” she explained as Suzie packed their bags. “Therefore we must persevere. We cannot waste time hoping for a man who will not return. You will not grow any younger. We must find another man of status for you to wed.”

  And yet Mary did not wish for any other man. Only for Duke Haskett. She would never say so to her mother. No, that would cause too much pain to them both. She would have to wear a brave face and carry on and hope that these feelings would pass before she found another suitor.

  The trip back home was tense. Mary attempted to bring up Duke Haskett's apology, but her mother would not even speak of him. Her mother wished to talk about other potential suitors, but Mary insisted she was not ready. Instead, they sat in silence for most of the first day. That night they stopped to rest at an inn where Lady Elridge purchased herself some tools for needlework. She sewed and Mary read for the remainder of their journey, which felt at once as though it passed in the blink of an eye, and yet somehow lasted years.

  They only arrived back home at nightfall. Sir Elridge was not yet home, but the housekeeper had made the beds, prepared a light supper, and lit the fires to welcome mother and daughter. They ate well and were soon ready to sleep.

  “Do not worry,” Mary's mother assured her as she settled down, in her own bed at last, “you will find a wonderful man to marry.”

  Mary sighed. “I do hope so, mother. I wish to make you proud.”

  Lady Elridge stroked Mary's hair. “You do, Mary. You make me so proud.” She kissed her daughter's head softly and stood up. “I only hope that someday I may make you proud also.” And with that, she took the candle and left the room.

  * * *

  Mary felt too sore to play the piano forte the next morning. Her body ached from the trip, but her heart was aching also. She knew she had to recover, to come back stronger than before. This was only her first suitor, and there would be many more young men who would be interested. Probably many more whom she would like, or love. And yet... she pined for Duke Haskett.

  Mary was so indisposed that Lady Elridge sent for the doctor, but even he could not find a solution. He concluded that she simply needed good female company to help her vent her emotions, which were bottling up inside her and causing her pain. So Lady Elridge then sent for the one person Mary spoke freely to: Antoinette.

  “I understand that you are unhappy at losing Duke Haskett as a suitor,” Antoinette said, gently stroking her cousin's shoulder as they sat beside each other. “But you must go on. There are many suitors I have lost whom I have held affection for. But if it is not to be, it is not to be.”

  “But what if there was a mistake?” Mary asked. “What if it was meant to be?”

  “The Good Lord does not make mistakes, Mary. All that has happened, hurt though it may, serves a purpose of some kind,” Antoinette reassured her.

  Mary sighed. “I... I wish I could prove to him that I want him for himself, and not for his money.” She rested her head on Antoinette's shoulder.

  “To clear your name?” Antoinette asked.

  Mary shook her head. “I do not know what for... it does not matter to me if others believe I desired his money. People shall gossip, and those who know me know better. I simply want him to know.”

  Antoinette nodded. “I understand what you mean, but there is nothing you can do now. Your father will be home tonight. I am sure that will please you.”

  Mary felt genuinely uplifted at the prospect of seeing her father. He had never been very present in her life, but whenever he was home for a while, the quality of time they spent together more than made up for the weeks he spent away. She knew that even if he could not comfort her, he could perhaps offer some distraction in the form of tales from his work, and trinkets from his travels.

  She sat up by the dining room fireplace late that night waiting for him. She did everything she could to stay awake. She read, she paced, but her eyelids grew heavy and, at the stroke of one, she retired to rest.

  * * *

  Descending for breakfast, Mary could smell a faint waft of cigar smoke. She could tell it was her father's usual cigar from the odour alone, and she rushed down the remaining stairs and into the drawing room, her face lit up with joy.

  “Father, you're back,” she said with a broad smile.

  “Ah, Mary, I have some wonderful news for you, but you must wait until your mother is here.” Sir Elridge puffed at his cigar. “Do sit down, begin your breakfast.”

  Mary nodded and sat down. But she barely had any appetite. Instead, she relayed some details of their stay at the Isle of Wight, as her father told her about the things he had seen in London, including, of all things, a circus with acrobatic animals. Mary listened in awe until she heard her mother's sharp footsteps entering the drawing room.

  “Excellent,” Sir Elridge said, smiling at Lady Elridge. “Now that we are all here I can tell you both the good news. Do sit down my love.” He waved at Lady Elridge's seat. Once everyone was seated and had served themselves food, he put out his cigar in the ashtray by his plate and cleared his throat. “Having heard of what had occurred with Duke Haskett, all that I could think of was how sad my lovely daughter would be,” he began. “So I took it upon myself to find her another suitor. It was not entirely by design, I must admit. But a friend of mine in London has a son who is just dying to get married, and I believe he will be an excellent fit. You will be meeting him tomorrow.”

  Mary, who had been chewing a mouthful of food, simply stared.

  There was a creak of furniture and the clatter of a spoon hitting the ground as Lady Elridge fainted in her chair.

  Chapter Nine

  As Lady Elridge regained consciousness in a chair by the window, Sir Elridge seemed to slowly realize he had done something unexpected, inappropriate, or both.

  Mary herself was completely and utterly flabbergasted. But she also knew that it was not her place to start asking questions about these things and defy her parents. Besides, judging by her mother's reaction, she knew she had at least one person on her side in this battle. If she waited, hopefully she would see a resolution that would make some sense to her. For now, she just had to test her patience.

  Until Mary’s mother awoke, became alert, and started speaking, Mary realized this would be a battle she had to fight on her own.

  “I appreciate what you are doing, James,” her mother began, “and I put my complete trust in you to make the right choice for our daughter. That said, I require some form of explanation to ease my nerves. This is quite sudden.”

  Sir Elridge nodded. “I understand that it is. However I believe that swift action is necessary. Our daughter is old enough to be married and presently has one suitor whose rejection has left her in some considerable anguish. I believe that exposure to a new suitor could prove to her that there is an abundance of worthy young men eager to wed her. If this young man is of interest to her, then all is well. And if he is not, then this new exposure may help inspire courage and confidence in her.”

  Sir Elridge's speech, however passionate, fell short for both Mary and her mother. Mary did not like the suggestion that she simply needed to discover that more men existed. She knew that more men existed, and would rather be paired up with one who would stand to make a content and respectable wife of her.

  Her mother had a different compl
aint.

  “But our daughter needs to marry a man with a certain status, with... connections,” Lady Elridge insisted.

  “She will marry well,” Sir Elridge countered.

  “But...” Lady Elridge trailed off. “Never mind, I shall give some thought to what you have said, James.”

  Mary knew what her mother meant. She had heard her mother speak like this before, although she was much younger and the topic was not about men—it was about piano forte lessons. That was the tone of voice her mother used when what she really meant to say was, “Not in front of the child, but I shall give you a piece of my mind when we are in private.”

  It struck Mary how frustrated her mother must be. Lady Elridge was the daughter of a Baron who had given up her quality of life to marry down. And now, despite being more educated, noble, and socially influential than her husband, she was forced to defer to him. Even when it came to protecting her own daughter from the same fate. At least if Mary married her equal, or slight superior, she would always know that her husband was making informed, wise decisions. It would be easy to respect, follow, and love a man who knew what he was doing. But her poor mother could neither count on her husband, nor have the last say in matters. She was trapped.

  But then one question remained: why was an equal marriage also out of the question? Mary was the daughter of a Knight, not a Baron. She did not need to marry a Baron or above to have a more educated husband she could trust and respect. In that aspect, she had to admit that her mother's intentions for her were covetous.

  “What do you think, Mary, my sweet?” her father asked, casting her the slightly pleading gaze of a father who had only wanted to look after his daughter.

  “If you believe he is an upstanding young man, and you would be happy to see him take my hand in marriage, I shall see him,” Mary said, but she couldn’t manage to make eye contact with her parents.

  Sir Elridge breathed a sigh of relief. “He truly is a wonderful young man, Mary. It is possible that the two of you will be highly compatible.”

  Mary nodded. “I look forward to meeting him.”

  * * *

  That night, Mary awoke with a sense something was occurring in the normally quiet building. She could hear the murmur of voices, despite the clock telling her it was well past midnight, when most of the servants and her parents would usually be in bed.

  She slipped on a house coat, took her candle, and crept down the hallway towards the source of the sounds: her parents' room. As she had suspected, away from the judging eyes of society, her mother had summoned the courage to turn against her father.

  “Our daughter will not marry some Spaniard,” she said. “She... she must marry an upstanding Englishman, with connections, with status, not someone who is yet to make his fortune.”

  “Enrique de Sevilla is a respectable young man of noble blood,” Sir Elridge replied, “and she would do well to marry him?”

  “Do well? I do not hear people of worth speaking his name. I do not see lines of young women aspiring to be his wife. He may be a man of worth in Spain, but he is nobody in this country. And yet you say our daughter would do well? To marry a nobody?” Lady Elridge was losing her breath again, her face was red, and she collapsed into her chair, where she waved the salts under her nose, trying desperately to regain her focus.

  “Dear... please don't overexert yourself,” Sir Elridge said, lowering himself onto one knee by her chair and, with his handkerchief, blotting the sweat from her forehead. “Not in your condition.”

  Lady Elridge drew a deep breath, then another one, and finally sighed. “I simply... I want what is best for the girl, James. I truly love you. But... this is not the life I would have chosen. This is not the life I was used to. And I may be happy to lead this life now, but she deserves so much more. She deserves to taste the life I gave up for you.”

  Sir Elridge nodded. “And I understand that. But we must remain realistic. She is still young now, but she won't be forever. And your health is no longer strong enough that you can continue fretting about her destiny. It is essential that I take over and give her the time and opportunity to find a suitor worth marrying.”

  After a brief pause, Mary could hear her mother sobbing and her father shushing her. Mary felt uncomfortable about what she had overheard, especially since it left more questions than answers. She had been curious as to what her mother was going to say, but now she wished she hadn't been. She crept back up the hallway and into her bedroom, but she could not sleep all night.

  * * *

  The next day preparations were underway to welcome the de Sevilla family. Which, with the serious lack of staff, naturally meant that everyone was very busy and Mary could do nothing without feeling that she was getting under someone's feet. So she withdrew to the garden, finding her childhood swing tied to the sturdy branches of an apple tree. After ensuring it had not been too badly affected by the elements, she sat down and lightly rocked herself back and forth, looking out over the garden.

  She was starting to feel like a terrible burden to her family. Finding her a good suitor was proving hard and she was now convinced that it was driving her parents to argue, possibly to hate one another. They were having to invest so much time and money into these arranged meetings. And her mother's health was suffering, suffering more than she had thought, all probably due to the burden Mary was placing on her.

  And yet the only way to stop being a burden on them would be to marry, and marry well. If she could marry a good man who would command her respect, take good care of her, and uphold strong Christian values, then she could fix this. They would no longer need to argue, spend their money, or risk their health for her.

  “Hallo.” It was a boyish voice with a severe accent.

  Mary turned her head to face the young man. He was slightly shorter than her, with thick black hair firmly waxed down to frame his innocent face. But his clothes attracted her attention the most. He was wearing tight glossy trousers, several layers on top, and a flat, wide-brimmed hat that looked to Mary more like a bonnet than menswear.

  His eyes frantically searched the space for something to fixate on.. “I do not know what I am doing, but my parents said I should be talking to you, so I am,” he explained.

  “Without an escort?” Mary asked.

  “Escort?” he asked back.

  This made Mary even more confused. Who hadn't heard of an escort? She shook her head. “We should not be talking alone out here. Come, let us go indoors.”

  The young man nodded. “I am Enrique, by the way.”

  “And I am Marianne,” she replied with a soft smile. She has no desire to introduce herself with her nickname. At this point in time, that felt too… intimate. She felt no pull towards him, no true interest... but if marrying him could stop her from being a burden to her family, then she would do her best to impress him. “You speak excellent English,” she managed to say as they walked indoors.

  He nodded. “I have to. Back at home my father has many international duties, which I may someday take over.”

  Mary nodded politely back. Inside, she found their parents talking in the withdrawing room. Enrique's father was dressed similarly to his son, but it was his mother who made Mary gasp. Although Mary and her mother dressed in the usual Parisian styles that were all the rage, Mary was immediately struck by the unique stylings of Lady de Seville's dress. It was boldly red instead of soft pastel, and heavily decorated with black trim and lace. The skirts were bustled high, unlike Mary's own lower bustle and slimmer contour, and the fabric was heavy. She was adorned from head to toe in pearls.

  Mary felt conflicted about this strange appearance. On the one hand she found such a style to be daring, unique, and immensely beautiful. On the other hand, she knew full well that even the Germans wore the latest fashion straight from Paris. And, looking to her mother, she could tell that Lady Elridge was not hugely impressed by this deviation from the norm. Her lips were pursed, and although she smiled and chatted politely, Mary co
uld tell that she was judging these strange Spanish people and their fanciful clothes.

  Mary understood the warning. Even though different nations had different fashions, it was through clothing that one could tell who someone was. Their rank, their wealth, whether they had inherited or made their fortune... All of these things could be picked apart from how someone dressed. And yet these people... They were not readable. Their clothes said nothing to Mary or her mother.

  As the adults spoke, Mary and Enrique stood by the window and Mary wondered what to talk about. “Do you play?” she finally asked. Enrique gave her a blank stare. “Any instruments?”

  Enrique shuffled his foot. “A little guitar, a little piano forte,” he replied.

  Mary smiled with relief. “Oh, I also play!” This arrangement may not be so bad if they had the same interests. “How do you find it?”

  “I am not too fond of it.”

  Mary's shoulders fell. “Oh... Well, what do you like?”

  “Bullfighting,” Enrique replied with a broad smile.

  “Bullfighting?” Mary asked, trying to hide the horror in her voice..

  “A man uses a cape to draw the attention of a raging bull, and then he and other men use weapons to wear it down, ending when the beast is slain by sword,” Enrique expanded. “It is a very masculine and powerful sport. Many ladies faint.”

  “It does sound rather...” barbaric, she thought, “curious.”

  “Sometimes the fighters die. That is sad,” Enrique replied.

  Mary’s eyes bulged and she nodded. There wasn't really anything she had in common with this young man, but her father wanted her to try her best, and try her best she would. After all, she had to stop being a burden to them.

  She noticed her mother calling her aside and practically leapt at the opportunity to escape. “I am so sorry, my mother wishes to speak. Please, make yourself at home.” She curtsied and then followed her mother out of the withdrawing room into the front room.