The Duke's Mysterious Lady

by Maggi Andersen

  Sophie placed her hands on her hips and surveyed Viola. “It will be a pleasure to dress you, Mademoiselle.”

  Nanny had bought a bolt of lawn for nightgowns, stays, chemise, petticoats and drawers. Finally, the white self-embroidered silk was discussed for an evening gown. “White suits you,” she said, as she watched the fabric draped around Viola’s shoulders. “Tis not flattering to every young woman. Why, I’ve seen many a sallow miss looking quite drab in white, I can tell you.”

  “It is fortunate, indeed, that I know of several ladies here in the village skillful in employing the needle,” Sophie said.

  Nanny read a passage from the periodical, “Ornaments and trimmings of silver are to be preferred before gold when intended for the fair beauty….” She pounced on silver ribbon and lace.

  Viola’s temples began to throb, and an awful gnawing anxiety twisted her stomach. She objected, when she could get a word in, but was swept aside.

  Nanny was in her stride. A blonde straw bonnet trimmed with apricot ribbons, was added along with grey kid gloves, and half boots in grey, from the cobbler. Evening slippers too, a vital necessity for social occasions along with cotton stockings and a pair of silk were added to the pile of accessories.

  “Silk stockings! Really Nanny. That is an inexcusable expense. I shall never have cause to wear them.”

  “You expect to go about bare-legged or wear cotton stockings with an evening gown?”

  Viola suspected that dressing her had stirred Nanny’s artistic endeavors to a point where good sense had been abandoned. She insisted in the sternest possible terms, that even Nanny was forced to obey that not one more purchase would be made.

  They were leaving the enthusiastic cobbler when the duke rode into the village. He dismounted and walked over to them, removing his hat.

  “I can see you’re much improved, Miss Viola. You have color in your cheeks.”

  “Much better, thank you.” Viola suspected her appearance had more to do with trying to control Nanny than her health.

  He unwittingly added fuel to the fire. “You have ordered a riding habit?”

  Viola frowned at Nanny, and then turned to him. “I’m extremely grateful to you for all you’ve done for me, Your Grace. But I cannot accept anything more.”

  “While you are under my protection, you shall obey me, yes?” He was a man used to getting his own way. Not many of the lower orders would be bold enough to argue the point with him.

  She admitted to being ungracious, but she sorely disliked becoming a charity case. Was this merely kindness, or did he have another reason? Men could be so ruthless and women had little power. Her thoughts were mean and uncharitable, but she felt so vulnerable. Had something in her past caused her to be so suspicious?

  “Blue for the habit.” Nanny seized eagerly on the idea. “Don’t you agree, Your Grace? But a richer blue than that gown.”

  “Whatever you feel is right.” Hugh tapped his boot with his riding crop. “Once I have attended to business, shall we have luncheon at the inn?”

  As he turned to leave, Viola tried once more, “I’m not entirely sure I can ride.”

  “Then we shall find out. You’ll be able to get about more, see Vale Park. This is an excellent time of the year, before it gets colder.”

  Viola gave up. It would have been churlish to refuse. She and Nanny returned to Madame Sophie who promised to select material for a riding outfit, and arrange for all the necessary extra items: riding boots, gloves, stock and hat. Shortly afterwards, the duke joined them in the aptly named Duck and Feather, perched on the river’s edge where waterfowl and stately swans swam amongst the low-lying branches of weeping willows. The delicious aroma of pork roasting on the spit and apple pie greeted them as they were shown into a private parlor. The inn boasted a fine cook in the innkeeper’s wife, who came out to greet them, quite flustered by the exalted company.

  Viola wished she could do the meal justice; she merely picked at the food on her plate. She had found the darkened oak beams of the old Tudor Inn unsettling. They stirred in her some faint recognition, something exasperatingly beyond her grasp. Her nerves felt raw. Impatience consumed her. Oh, why couldn’t she remember?

  She had posed that very question to the doctor earlier.

  “These things are hard to assess,” he had said with sympathy in his eyes. “The wound to your head has healed, and I confess surprise that you aren’t entirely restored to health. Shock can do funny things to a body. I recommend rest. Let Nanny Bryant care for you. She does it very well, does she not? Let nature take its course.”

  Yes, she had had a shock. The idea that perhaps her mind didn’t wish to remember, was followed by another inexplicable wave of sadness. A tremor passed through her body.

  Hugh leaned towards her. “I have heard some news,” he said quietly. She took a sharp intake of breath, as he continued. “A farmer some miles from here informed my bailiff that his horse had been stolen. A young man he said. The gelding has since found its way home.”

  Her mouth dried and she couldn’t speak. The pause lengthened as her cheeks grew fiery hot.

  “I’m glad his horse came back,” she said in a low voice.

  Horror and shame dried her throat. Had it been she? When and if she recovered her memory, would she like herself?

  “I have sent the locket to Bow Street in London, and engaged a Bow Street Runner to investigate. We shall hear from them any day now.”

  Viola murmured her thanks. He seemed sure the answer to her past lay with the locket. Perhaps he was right. She was relieved that he’d taken it away. The piece of jewelry made her fill ill. It was not the locket itself, but something sinister connected with it. Oh, why couldn’t she remember?

  Chapter Five

  As she did every morning, Viola opened her eyes with a prayer. Finding nothing changed, she threw back the covers with a sob of disappointment. Nanny clucked around her, fussing to such an extent that Viola wished for some time alone, and then chided herself for it. She had thoughts she could not share with Nanny, which disturbed her and made her even more restless.

  During the daylight hours, her constant questions went unanswered. Her nights assailed by nightmares. Someone chased her. She ran through mud, hid in dark places, and floated through unfamiliar country lanes. As she hovered just above the ground, hands swiped at her from below. She looked down, desperate to see their face, but they remained in shadow. As if they held some awful threat over her. She woke in terror, sobbing with a pillow over her head so as not to wake Nanny.

  She came close to recognizing the house in her dreams, but when she woke, the fragments faded from her mind, leaving her in an inexplicable, dark mood.

  The older woman was a good soul; Viola had become extremely fond of her. She cherished their evenings spent together by the parlor fire, Nanny with her knitting and Viola reading one of the books sent down from the big house. Their time together was made sweeter by the knowledge that it could not go on forever.

  During these quiet evenings, Nanny told Viola all about life at Vale Park when Aubrey, the old duke, and Lady Georgina were alive. In those days, the house never lacked visitors. The late Duke and Duchess had entertained often, with balls and shooting parties during the hunting season when the house rang with bright conversation and laughter.

  “It was very jolly then, Viola. I would bring Hugh down from the nursery with his older sister, Clarissa. Many notables would be present; King George III came here before the madness took him. His Majesty was very interested in the plants growing here, I believe, and had some artist fellow drawing them and drying and pressing them into books.

  “I have been privileged to be a part of this great household. My father was a vicar and we were very poor. I was working as a children’s nurse when Hugh’s mother sent for me. We are distant relatives, you see. She heard I was employed as a children’s nurse and sent for me. She kindly took me on as head nurse, and I was always treated with great generosity. When Hugh’s fat
her died, I was honored to become dear Lady Georgina’s companion.”

  “How fortunate she was to have you,” Viola murmured. She had wondered how Nanny came to see so much that went on during that time. As the children’s nurse, would she not be shut away in the nursery for a good deal of the time?

  “How kind. Thank you, my dear. Lady Georgina was generous to a fault, as are her children. When Clarissa comes to Vale Park, we talk about old times,” Nanny went on.

  “She is married to the Duke of Whitcombe. They spend their time between their London townhouse and Whitcombe Hall in Bath.” She shook her head and examined her knitting. “They seldom come to Vale Park, to be truthful. But Clarissa has said that when she has a baby I am to be head nanny.” Nanny unraveled her ball of wool. “Of course, I would if she wished it, but they have been married some ten years and Clarissa is nine-and-twenty. Perhaps if they are blessed, it would be better for a younger woman to be in charge. It’s a long time since I held such a position, and notions change.”

  Viola was surprised to find Nanny so hesitant. She was still a vigorous, clear thinking woman. In fact, Viola had been sorry to see her shut away so much from society. She placed her arm around Nanny’s shoulder. “Some things never change. Loving care and wise counsel is always valued.”

  Nanny smiled. “You are a dear girl, Viola. Hugh has insisted I remain at Vale Park until the end of my days. I have been fortunate to work for such a wonderful family. Back in those days when we went regularly to London, I talked to nannies from other establishments. I heard heart-breaking stories of nannies made homeless when they were no longer needed and could not find another position.”

  “I’m sure life is hard for many women.” Perhaps it will be for me too. Viola closed her book and laid it aside. “When did His Grace’s parents pass away?”

  Nanny’s chin wobbled. “The most upsetting of circumstances, dear. They were riding to hounds when a fox startled Aubrey’s horse. His foot tangled in the stirrup as he fell.

  He was gone when they brought him back to the house, and Georgina went almost mad with grief. Barely a year passed before she was laid to rest beside her beloved husband in the family crypt.” Nanny put down her knitting. “After that, life changed at Vale Park. Hugh went away to school and then on to Oxford. I cared for Clarissa until she left the schoolroom. She married the duke in her first London Season. Although, he is an older gentleman, the match is a good one.”

  Viola smiled. Nanny looked like a proud parent. “They are most fashionable, you know,” Nanny went on. “Clarissa is a bosom friend of both Lady Cowper and Lady Jersey. She presides with them at Almacks during the Season.”

  “What is Almacks like?”

  Nanny’s blue eyes studied her. “It’s the most exclusive meeting place in London. Dances are held there every Wednesday. There’s a strict dress code for men. The Duke of Wellington was turned away when not wearing knee breeches!

  One must obtain a patron’s voucher, and only young ladies from the best families will be granted one.”

  Viola wondered why Hugh, at seven-and-twenty, had not yet married. “Do many men marry in their twenties?”

  “Please don’t repeat this to a soul. I wouldn’t want Hugh to think I gossip about the family’s secrets.” Nanny looked furtively around as if Hugh would leap from behind the sofa. “His parents were close friends with their neighbors, Lord and Lady Beresford whose estate adjoins Vale Park. At the birth of the Beresford’s daughter, Lady Felicity, an agreement was made between them. She is to marry Hugh when she comes of age. An excellent financial arrangement, which would join the two large estates together. Hugh was nine when Lady Felicity was born, but the age gap hasn’t prevented a friendship between them. Whenever Hugh came down from Oxford, Hallidon House was like a second home to him. He taught Felicity to ride. As far as I am aware, the understanding remains. She had her come out this London Season. A pretty girl, quite charming, although a little wilful, perhaps. I thought Hugh might have brought news of their engagement on his return from London. But I expect it will be announced at the ball.”

  Viola’s chest tightened as she reflected on this, trying not to panic at the thought of still living in Nanny’s cottage when Hugh brought his bride home to Vale Park. Of course, she couldn’t, she would have to seek a position before then. As she had obviously been blessed with a good education, she would put it to good use. Soon, she must ask Nanny’s advice.

  ****

  At the beginning of Viola’s third week spent at Vale Park, her riding habit arrived. When she removed the lid of the box, she and Nanny exclaimed at the violet-blue wool dress and jacket, with its military style gold epaulettes, glowing in its bed of tissue paper. It came complete with black kid gloves, black leather riding-boots, and an elegant hat with a striking feather. Hugh must have been informed of its arrival, for in the early afternoon, he arrived on his stallion, accompanied by a groom, leading a small black mare on a rein.

  He swept off his hat. He filled the small parlor with his presence, apparently unaware of the striking figure he presented in his riding clothes. The coat fitted like a second skin, showing off his broad shoulders and slim waist. Riding breeches encased his long, muscular legs, his riding boots like mirrors. After a quick study of Viola’s face and a casual inquiry into her health, he ordered her upstairs to change.

  Heart beating like a trapped bird, Viola rushed to her room.

  She pulled off her clothes, and was already half-dressed when Becky came to help her. Becky pinned up her hair, training a ringlet to frame each side of her face. Viola donned the hat, adjusting it to exactly the right angle. She glanced with satisfaction at her appearance in the glass. The habit fitted perfectly. Clever Madame Sophie had allowed for a small gain in weight after Nanny said she was feeding Viola up. She hurried out onto the landing. At the top of the stairs, she slowed her pace and walked down the stairs, casually pulling on her gloves.

  Nanny cast a quick glance at Hugh. “Oh, my dear, you are so smart.”

  Hugh made an elaborate bow. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Viola executed a deep curtsy.

  They said goodbye to Nanny and, laughing, walked out to where the groom held the restless horses.

  “Meet Molly,” Hugh said.

  Viola stroked the mare’s soft nose. “Such a plain name for such a pretty mare.”

  “Now, let’s see what you know.”

  Viola bent her knee for the groom to help her mount Molly.

  Instinctively, she settled on the sidesaddle and adjusted her skirt over her legs. Hugh watched her, eyebrows raised. She took the reins from the groom confident in the saddle.

  ****

  Hugh was certain that Viola’s superb balance and confidence on a horse came from expert tutelage. She came alive as they rode through green pastures. At the end of their canter, her eyes were a bright, clear blue and her cheeks like rosy apples. He caught his breath. She had become a vivid beauty.

  “Well, Your Grace.” She laughed. “You were out to either kill me or cure me, and a cure I think it is. That was wonderful.”

  Her vitality was irresistible; he couldn’t stop looking at her intrigued by how unlike an English rose she was. There was something French about her wide, full-lipped mouth. His gaze traced the line of her smooth throat, down to the thrusting curve of her bosom, remembering soft roundness beneath his fingers on the day he found her. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, thinking how very nice it would be to kiss her.

  He pulled himself up short. What was he thinking? There was no room for complications such as this in his life. He felt an uncomfortable rush of disloyalty to Felicity. She should fill his thoughts, but try as he might; Felicity was more like a young sister than a prospective wife.

  He had been staring again.

  “Well?” A dimple appeared in her cheek. “Do I pass muster?”

  “You ride exceedingly well. The mystery has just deepened, Miss Viola.” Feeling slightly off balance, he threw out a challenge to
her. “Do you feel up to a gallop?” He pointed along the trail.

  “As you wish, Your Grace.” She tapped Molly’s neck with her crop and nudged her flank with a heel. Caught by surprise, he raced after her. She laughed when he caught up. They galloped down the wide, straight bridle path through the woods, side by side for a brief moment, until his male pride got the better of him, and he spurred his horse on leaving her behind.

  “You are ungallant and unfair, Sir,” Viola called after him, her voice musical with laughter. “Your horse is much bigger and stronger than mine.”

  “I must find you a more challenging animal,” Hugh yelled, as they burst out of the trees. They reined in their horses and walked them to the water’s edge.

  ****

  The reedy bank offered a perfect view of Vale House over the lake. The house looked very beautiful. A grand carriage stood at its entrance, a liveried groom at the horses’ heads.

  Hugh frowned and his mouth firmed. “Forgive me, Miss Viola. I must leave you here.” Calling his groom, who had trailed behind them at a discreet distance, he instructed him to accompany Viola back to the cottage. “We don’t want you to be sore. You’ve had enough for your first day, but please do ride whenever you wish. I’ll leave instructions at the stables to provide you with a better mount. My groom is at your disposal.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Viola gave the mare’s neck an affectionate pat. “But Molly suits me very well.”

  She watched him ride away before trotting back along the trail to the cottage. He has his troubles too. She couldn’t help being curious at Hugh’s reaction to the carriage. He’d appeared disturbed. Who was it that had come to visit?

  It felt so good to be in the saddle. But at some point in her life, she had ridden astride like a man. This recollection drifted in her memory like a wisp of smoke from a snuffed-out candle. It retreated again leaving only frustration. Was it she who had stolen the horse?