The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel

by Emma Linfield

  “I daresay that you have concocted such a silly notion in your own mind. I have never heard anyone speak ill of you!”

  “You would not, would you?” Catherine retorted. “You are most loved. No one would dare fall out of your favor by telling you what they think of your queer sister.”

  Catherine brushed by him before he was permitted a chance to speak and Leonard was left alone to gape after her in amazement.

  Surely she cannot believe that, he thought and as his slow gait took him toward the house once more. Or have I simply been too far removed from the comings and goings of the household?

  More shame touched him at the thought that his family might be suffering when that was truly the last thing he ever wanted. Leonard entered the estate through the kitchen and nodded to the servants scrambling about, presumably to make his midday meal.

  “Your bath awaits you, Your Grace,” Beatrice told him softly. Leonard nodded at her.

  “Thank you, Beatrice. I will attend to it shortly.”

  A part of his heart urged him to find his sister and ease the concerns which apparently plagued her but he also realized he knew very little about the matter.

  I will investigate the rumors which she speaks of, he vowed, although he was quite sure his sister might have exaggerated matters in her own youthful mind. Catherine was more like him than he cared to admit and often times, she would make mountains out of molehills.

  He wandered from the kitchen, toward the front stairs. It would have been just as simple to use the servant’s steps to his quarters but he had a stop to make before addressing his bath which was undoubtedly cooling with each step he took. He walked through the long hallway and crossed the oak doors of the study to stare ahead. The portrait of his father remained staunchly erected behind the wide desk and Leonard was flooded with a fusion of pride and wistfulness.

  Eventually, Leonard’s own picture would hang in replacement but he could not bring himself to order them switched, not when it still felt as though Aylmer Hervey lived inside the dark, paneled room. It was not an eerie feeling but one which filled him with comfort.

  “I will do you proud, Father,” he said aloud, his head tipped backward to stare up at the portrait. “I will ensure the future of this duchy and the happiness of this family just like you have. I will follow my pursuits to their fullest, just as you have taught me.”

  It was a speech he made every day, if he was inside the manor house, secretly certain that the late Duke could hear his proclamations. He missed his father dearly and he hoped that the man had found peace in Heaven above. It had been a long and arduous illness which had claimed him and Leonard knew it pained his family to watch such a powerful man wither away into a shadow of his former self.

  A gentle rap at the door caused him to turn and Leonard stifled his annoyance. Most everyone in the household knew he should not be disturbed while in his study. He reasoned it must be a matter of importance.

  “Who is it?”

  “Jacob, Your Grace.”

  “You may enter,” he sighed. “What is it?”

  “Your Grace, forgive the intrusion,” Jacob, the butler mumbled, his eyes cast downward. He knew better than anyone that he was not to disturb the Duke in his study.

  “What is it, Jacob?” he demanded again, wishing he would get to the point. He did adore the servants, most of them long-time employees of the duchy but some of them were failing in their advanced ages. Even so, Leonard knew he would miss them when their old age claimed them. He forced himself not to think of such grave matters. The duchy had suffered a great enough loss for the time with Aylmer’s passing. He hoped that he would not be forced to witness another burial in the coming months.

  Jacob’s mouth twisted into a knot and Leonard instantly tensed. The Duke suspected he knew precisely what had created such a pinched expression on the servant’s face. There was only one person he knew who could instil such immediate disdain among the staff.

  Miss Priscilla has come calling.

  “Miss Priscilla is here, is she not?” he sighed knowingly before Jacob could respond. His eyes rose nervously and he nodded quickly. Leonard could read the apology in his eyes although it had little to do with the butler. If Jacob had enlisted an army, they would likely be unable to stop the insistent Priscilla Arquette. Leonard exhaled slowly and steeled himself against the ire racing through his veins. There was little he could do but accept her call. He knew she would not cease until Leonard had granted her an audience. Idly he questioned if the Baron’s daughter had bothered the staff daily, demanding information on his return. It would not have surprised Leonard in the least if she had. Priscilla was nothing if not persistent.

  “See her inside. I suggest you boil more water for the bath. It will be ice cold by the time she leaves.”

  If she ever leaves, Leonard added silently to himself. The servant did not respond but he had no doubt Jacob was smiling and Leonard wondered if they had not shared the same thought. Ridding himself of Priscilla was never an easy feat. Jacob scurried away to abide by his wish and Leonard turned swiftly to the crystal decanters. He filled up a glass to the brim, and sipped back the scotch, embracing the burn it created in his gut. He knew he would need all the extra strength he could muster to deal with the impending arrival. If it needed to be through the drink, so be it.

  “Your Grace!” Priscilla cried through the doorway, Jacob arriving slightly behind her. “You have returned!”

  Without warning, the younger woman flung herself into his arms and bowled him back into the matte wood of his desk, the shrill tone of her voice reverberating through his tired skull.

  “Miss Priscilla” he sighed. “You seem well.”

  He managed to sidestep the brazen grip of her arms by a fraction and looked at his butler in shock. Jacob’s face mimicked the disgust he was feeling.

  How can this woman have such fine breeding and yet her manners are abhorrent? She behaves like a feral cat.

  Leonard suspected it had much to do with how her father, a baron, spoiled her endlessly. Priscilla was no better than an over-indulged baby, despite her age of nineteen. She was a comely woman but a bore who had nothing of value to add to any conversation.

  “I have missed you terribly!” Priscilla gushed. “Why have you not written?”

  Leonard smiled thinly but he had no doubt that his lack of patience was lost on the Baron’s daughter.

  “I was much consumed with duties,” he lied. “And the mails are slow.”

  He dared not speak the truth in the matter, that he had all but forgotten about her on his travels. It was not a hard feat to accomplish, despite her brash presence. Leonard considered that perhaps his small holiday had been to forsake the memory of Priscilla, also.

  However short-lived that dream may have been.

  Leonard eyed her expectantly.

  “Why have you come, Miss Priscilla? I have pressing matters waiting which require my attention.”

  He cast Jacob a meaningful look, one meant to remind him to boil more water. The butler understood at once, bowed and moved away with more speed than usual.

  Miss Priscilla does create unease among everyone in her midst, he thought wryly. Even the most seasoned servants long to run from her path.

  “I have come every day since you left, praying that I will see your face,” she explained, her body too close for his own comfort. He flashed her a wan smile.

  “How thoughtful,” he muttered. “I daresay, this is not an opportune time.”

  “Of course, Your Grace. I will be on my way, elated to know you are home from your travels. Shall I return this afternoon?”

  “Whatever for?” Leonard heard himself ask before he could stop the words but as usual, she did not seem to hear the exasperation in his tone. Leonard wondered if it was done deliberately, ignoring his subtle pleas. He could not fathom that anyone could be so blitheringly oblivious otherwise.

  “Your Grace, your cleverness never ceases to amuse me,” she cooed, the suga
r in her tone giving Leonard chills of disgust. “I do adore how you jest with me.”

  He managed to maintain the pleasant expression on his face although his aggravation was only mounting. Leonard did wish Priscilla would say what she had come for and be on her way.

  “Forgive me, Miss Priscilla. I fear I am quite fatigued following my journey. Why do you require an audience with me? Is it not a matter which can wait for another time?”

  Perhaps a month or two? He thought hopefully, knowing well that he would never be free of Priscilla for such a great length of time. For the first time, Priscilla detected the irritation in his tone. Her expression became one of petulance and she stepped back, her blue eyes flashing with annoyance of her own.

  “You are jesting with me, are you not, Your Grace?” she demanded, a look of hurt coloring her face. “Surely you know what it is I require from you.”

  Again, Leonard shook his head, resisting the urged to seize her by the shoulders and rattle the answer from her.

  “Miss Priscilla, if you will kindly get to the point? What is it you require from me?” He had forsaken any indication of humor and stared at her balefully, willing the words from her lips. A gust of air escaped her mouth and she frowned.

  “To discuss our wedding, of course,” she replied angrily. “It is only a month from now, after all.”

  Chapter 2

  Laughter filled the courtyard and Elizabeth Follett rushed forward to gently push her older sister, Frances again before darting back. She cast her brother, David a secretive glance. She pressed her finger to her lips to caution her younger sibling into silence and waited for Frances to react.

  “I will find you!” Frances called, her child-like voice filled with determination and glee. Her long arms reached out, the blindfold still covering her eyes as she spun around, seeking her siblings.

  “No you will not!” Elizabeth giggled. “Blind man’s bluff!”

  Once more, Frances spun but caught her ankle-length boot on a stone and stumbled forward. She fell, extending her arms too late to catch herself from tumbling to the grass. Elizabeth and David gasped in unison, one close to tripping upon the other to attend to Frances.

  “Oh, Franny, are you injured?” Elizabeth cried, worry piercing her heart when she arrived at her older sister’s side. Frances remained on the ground, unmoving but when Elizabeth removed the blindfold, she saw the girl’s eyes staring vacantly into the blue of the sky above. Nothing appeared hurt but her very fragile ego.

  “I do not like this game,” Frances grumbled and Elizabeth exhaled with relief.

  “We shall not play again,” she assured Frances. “Shall we, David?”

  David shook his head in solidarity and assisted his oldest sister to her feet. Frances reluctantly accepted his arm but the pout did not leave her face.

  “We shall forever strike the wicked game of Blind Man’s Bluff from our memories,” David agreed. “It shall be a forbidden game henceforth.”

  The younger siblings exchanged a worried glance when Frances did not smile. Thinking quickly, Elizabeth attempted another way to earn a beam from her.

  “I daresay, David, did Ruth not make fresh cheese this morning? Do you think it has set?”

  David looked pensive and nodded his head in a serious fashion.

  “Indeed, Liza, I believe you speak in truth.”

  As Elizabeth suspected, a twinkle of interest glimmered in Frances’ hazel eyes.

  “Cheese, you say?” the older girl murmured. “Are you certain?”

  “Surely there is only one way to know for a fact,” Elizabeth replied, raising her dark eyebrows. “We must go look.”

  Her foul mood dissipating, Frances squealed with delight and danced forward through the field not unlike the bantling she appeared to be. David cast Elizabeth a sidelong look as their sister skipped away, and sighed deeply.

  “I do worry about her,” he muttered. The words only echoed Elizabeth’s own thoughts. It was one that both the Follett siblings shared often, their concern for Frances only growing as the young woman matured in body but not in mind. Elizabeth quickly dismissed the gloomy notion and smiled.

  “You need not,” Elizabeth replied brightly. “She is happy here, protected.”

  “How happy can she be with the mind of a child?” David insisted. “I ask myself every day how we can make her life more comfortable but I fear I always find myself without answer.”

  “David, our sister is kind and sweet. She is loved and cared for. You need not fret for her when she does not fret herself,” Elizabeth insisted. “Our concerns for her are far greater than her concerns for herself, I am certain. Moreover, I feel sometimes that she is much less simple than we believe. I think she oftentimes uses her simplicity to have us bow to her whims.”

  “But she will never find love, be married,” David insisted. “What kind of life will she have as an old maid?”

  Elizabeth could think of worse things to be than a high-born but unwed lady. Frances would always have the love of her family, after all. She wanted for nothing and led a comfortable life, even if it did not meet the expectations of some of their peers. Elizabeth did not offer her insights to David on the matter, however. She knew it would only result in an argument from him.

  “What do you know of love? You are barely sixteen,” Elizabeth teased. “Have you begun a courtship?”

  The tips of David’s ears tinged pink and Elizabeth stopped in mid-step to gape at him when he did not deny her question.

  “You have!” she choked. “Who is she? Does Father approve?”

  “I do not wish to discuss it!” David protested, his pace increasing to walk away from her. Of course, Elizabeth would have none of it and dashed after him, her voice rising to fill his ears.

  “You must tell me!” she insisted. “Or else I will need ask Valentina Smythe. You know how she enjoys a good tale of romance!”

  David whirled to stare at her in shock. His golden-brown eyes were fraught with distress.

  “You would not!” he gasped. “That busybody will follow me like a bloodhound on a hunt if she suspects I am courting!”

  “Indeed. Would it not be easier to tell your sister which lady has caught your eye?” Elizabeth agreed, an impish grin covering her lovely face. Of course she would never unleash the town’s gossip upon her beloved brother but her curiosity was piqued in David’s silence. David glowered for a moment, the realization he was caught between two evils defeating him.

  “If I should disclose the object of my affections,” he began haltingly. “You must swear not to tell Father.”

  “I swear it,” Elizabeth agreed and placed a hand on her chest. “Do tell me.”

  “Lady Anne Chamberlain.”

  Elizabeth was truly stunned by the revelation, her mouth parted to show her dismay.

  “Good Heavens, David, she is ten years older than you! A widowed lady no less!”

  “You understand then why you cannot tell Father.” His tone was nonchalant and Elizabeth was temporarily at a loss for words. “He will not understand and force me to end it.”

  “David, you cannot hide such an affair. It is only a matter of time before—”

  “All that is well and good, sister, but for now I would prefer it not come to surface. Certainly not from your mouth. You did swear! You cannot back out on your word now!”

  Elizabeth swallowed the lump formulating in her throat and reluctantly nodded. She had sworn her silence, after all. She could not very well dishonor her vow, especially, not to her brother. She wondered if she was being too hasty to judge, if she should simply be happy for him. Yet she could not help but feel such a match was fated to be doomed.

  “You must consider the consequences of this,” she urged him. “I will not speak a word of it to anyone but you must be reasonable, David. What will happen when this comes to light?”

  “I will deal with such matters when they arise.”

  Elizabeth could not help but feel resentful of Lady Chamberlain who su
rely knew better at her age of six-and-twenty than to seduce a boy as young as David.

  “Look!” he interrupted before Elizabeth could offer another word of protest, his finger pointed toward the horizon. “A messenger is coming.”

  Indeed, a man dressed in black galloped his horse toward them and Elizabeth felt a stab of inexplicable worry. Nothing good ever came in such a fashion. She turned her head toward the house and noted with relief that Frances had already made her way inside the manor. She did not wish troubling news to reach her sister’s fragile mind.

  “Halt!” David called to the man as he neared. “What say you?”

  The messenger peered at the young lord, his eyes narrowed.