If Minerva was honest, riding in the open carriage to the Buckleys’ acquaintances was the first highlight of her trip, and it lit up her – so far – tedious stay. The heat of the late morning was somewhat oppressive, but the soft breeze from driving made it all the more bearable. Her Aunt Catherine had to remind her, twice, to pull the brim of her bonnet down lower over her face, so that the sun wouldn’t create unsightly freckles around her nose, but Minerva sneakily pushed it up again, twice, when her aunt was not looking. Uncle James, who was in an excellent mood today, winked at her and looked in the other direction when her hand pushed the brim of her hat back up again.
Minerva had to admit that she was actually growing fond of her relatives. Her aunt’s small peculiarities, and the slightly strange combination of independence and agreeability that her uncle cultivated, were quaint and quirky, but she could live with that. They really made an effort not to make Minerva’s life harder, despite her father’s explicit, written instructions to continually remind Minerva of her duties as an obedient daughter. She could very well imagine her father’s words and what he had written. She wondered whether he missed his daughter even a little bit.
“We are almost there,” Aunt Catherine said, which brought Minerva back into the present. “Do you see the colourful tents over there?” She pointed discreetly with her gloved hand towards a spot ahead of them. A true lady would never point her finger towards anything that drew her interest, but the excitement that seemed to engulf her aunt was palpable. “The horse market takes place on a meadow just outside of the village,” she explained. “We will leave our carriage at the Inchmans’ residence. From there we can walk to the horse market on foot.” She glanced at Minerva’s boots and nodded appreciatively. She recognised Minerva’s obvious decision to wear a “suitable” pair of boots, even though they did not match the rest of her wardrobe, which was the first step in showing that she was ready to adapt herself to her changed circumstances.
Maybe, her aunt thought, Minerva might be becoming more amenable to other ideas as well – including marriage.
* * *
A lightning bolt darted across the night sky and thunder rolled across the land. Was this an indication that fate would change her life forever?
At first glance, the Inchmans were somewhat of a disappointment. Just as old as her aunt and uncle, they very much seemed the epitome of respectability. Mrs Inchman immediately regarded the thin fabric of Minerva’s dress with an utterly disapproving glance, even though it had stood up to Aunt Catherine’s eagle-eyed scrutiny. Well, if Mrs Inchman preferred to die of excessive heat in her very thick dress (which was entirely too heavy for such a summery day), then she should do just that. On the other hand, her disapproval could very well stem from the way Mr Inchman had looked at Minerva with obvious appreciation. She stayed close to her aunt’s side, in case Mr Inchman overstepped the bearable limits of enthusiastic familiarity. Aunt Catherine gave her friend a serious look, which pleased Minerva’s heart. Her aunt was a conventional woman and her facial expressions alone were the equivalent of a public rebuke. Even the reprimanded Mr Inchman seemed to understand that he had taken too much of a liberty, because he excused himself and turned towards the tavern, where he would most likely find more appreciation for his advances than from the ladies he had planned to accompany to the market.
Now it was up to her uncle to make sure that the ladies were well taken care of. He did this in style and invited them to partake of a light ale, which immediately went to Minerva’s head, so that her aunt had to take it from her after just a few sips. Perhaps it had not been the ale that had gone to her head and made her giggle uncontrollably, but rather the sheer excitement that had overcome her as soon as they reached the market. Her uncle had assured her that, by the time they arrived, most of the business would have been taken care of and that most of the animals would be on their way to their new homes, but it was still a rather breathtaking experience. With his friendly yet firm personality, Uncle James led the ladies through the large crowd, which made Minerva feel safe amongst all the animals and people. The many odours of furry and feathered creatures, alcoholic beverages, sweet treats, and rubbish blended into an almost unbearable aroma, which Minerva was certain would cling to their clothes long after they left. Everywhere she looked, people were falling into each other’s arms, laughing and calling out names whenever they recognised someone. Here, in this market, status did not seem to matter, or – at least – it did not matter as much. Minerva saw ordinary servants standing right next to well-situated ladies, all looking wistfully at the same goods and products. There was so much more to see here than just horses that she felt dizzy and asked her Aunt Catherine if she could be allowed to step away from the crowd for a moment.
Her relatives and Mrs Inchman, whose ruffled feathers had been soothed by her husband’s departure, led her towards the outer edge of the market. “I am surprised that the crowd is troubling you so much,” Mrs Inchman remarked. “Are you not used to much worse in London, Miss Honeyfield?” Her voice actually sounded quite worried, and Minerva smiled weakly. Apart from one colourful tent with lots of coloured ribbons, ropes and jingling ornaments near its entrance, there were no other market stands to be seen and it was beautifully quiet. Strangely enough, no one was to be seen in front of the tent, which offered different types of knick-knacks, although just the ornaments alone did not make it evident what was on sale there. Maybe it was a place to rest, where exhausted ladies like her could recuperate?
“… not be honouring us this year with his attendance either,” Mrs Inchman was saying at the same moment that Minerva noticed something moving behind the stall’s glittery curtain.
Her aunt fell silent for a moment, before she answered with a mere whisper, even though nobody, apart from the four of them, were within earshot. “Well, good... it’s much better this way. No one knows whether he would be able to comport himself in an appropriate manner, amongst all of the young, innocent women. The young things do not yet know that something dangerous can hide behind an attractive face.” Minerva started to listen more closely, while still pretending that she did not feel quite well.
Her uncle had distanced himself and sat on a tree stump away from them, maltreating the grass beneath him by stamping it down with his elegant walking cane.
“He is extremely attractive,” Mrs Inchman remarked with a slightly dreamy voice, before she cleared her throat and quickly added, “... but he is a deeply immoral person and the very fact that he doesn’t even bother to stand up against all those rumours, speaks for itself.”
Who were the two women talking about? Minerva opened her mouth to ask them, but at that moment, a woman stepped out from behind the pearl-beaded curtain. She did not look like anybody Minerva had ever seen before in her entire life. The first thing that struck her was the royal posture with which the woman stepped through the fluttering ribbons. She held herself straight, but she had a certain swing in her hips, and the way she walked had something seductive about it. The woman was not even wearing a bodice, and she was not afraid for that to be noticed! Her black hair fell untamed over her shoulders and her wide, red mouth with its lush lips smiled half threatening, half friendly.
“Which one of you ladies would like to look into her future?” the woman asked, and it seemed as if her question was particularly aimed at Minerva. It felt as if she was tempting Minerva to step into her mysterious world. “No lies, no excuses. Marie-Rose will tell you only the truth and nothing but the truth.” The woman’s heavy-looking golden earrings seemed to nod enticingly towards her, so Minerva took a step, wanting to follow that alluring smile.
“Minerva!” Her aunt’s sharp voice snapped her out of her daze. “Get out of there immediately.”
“But my Lady, please,” Marie-Rose said soothingly and waved to Minerva to step into her tent. She quickly passed behind the strange-looking curtain with all its ribbons and pearls, and felt a feather tickling her neck.
“I swear on all the s
aints that nothing will harm this child.” The woman’s voice moved away, as she left Minerva alone in the tent to speak to Aunt Catherine. A short moment later, Minerva heard Uncle James’s voice, muted and deep above all the high-pitched female murmuring.
Minerva sat down on one of the cushioned seats and looked at the table in front of her. A cheap and colourful cloth covered it, and nothing was laid upon it but a stack of cards. Her heart was pounding, and she lifted the first card from its deck – and immediately dropped it again. It showed a red-horned creature, naked to its hips and surrounded by other, equally undressed and seemingly dancing creatures of both sexes. Despite the repugnance she felt for the horrible image, Minerva lifted the card that had fallen face down onto the table, once more. Looking at it more closely, she could see that the card was not actually as horrible as she had first thought. Of course, the devil still seemed rather disconcerting, but he had a mischievous look, which reminded her a little bit of Uncle James, who was by no means an evil person. The other naked people, well... there was not really anything that made it particularly scandalous. The figures had been detailed so little – they could have just as well been wearing skin-coloured suits.
“I see that you have already chosen your first card.” Marie-Rose sat down across from her and smiled at Minerva mysteriously. Then she pushed the deck of cards closer to Minerva, who suddenly became very nervous. “Take two more cards, and I will tell you what your future holds, Miss.”
“How am I supposed to pay you?” Minerva enquired and once again regretted that she did not have any money of her own. “I do not have anything I could give you.”
“That is not entirely true,” the Roma woman replied and nodded towards Minerva’s earrings.
When Minerva gave her a startled look, she laughed softly. “It’s all right. I was only making a joke. How about we say that you’ll pay me handsomely when our paths cross again, and by then you’ll have become a duchess or a marquise.”
“Really? I will marry a duke or a marquis? You are able to tell from this one card?”
Marie-Rose laughed freely. “Oh no, that I can tell you purely out of common sense, Miss. You’re young, very beautiful, and obviously you have been blessed with wealthy parents. It would be some kind of miracle if someone like you did not marry into the nobility. Even if he doesn’t have a noble title, he will still be one of the rich men who can afford to maintain a duke’s lifestyle.” Minerva realised that she was being manipulated with this disarming combination of honesty and charm, and yet she was unable to prevent herself from becoming excited by the Roma woman’s words.
“All right then,” she said with a slightly challenging undertone. She took the deck of cards into her hand. and for a moment she wondered why her hands felt so warm. Marie-Rose’s eyes rested upon her knowingly, whilst she pulled out two more cards and placed them onto the table without looking at them. “Now, apart from a duke, what else is waiting for me in my future?” she asked nonchalantly.
“We have the Devil, the Tower, and the Ace of Cups,” the Roma woman said, and she pushed the cards on the table around until they lay directly next to each other. “First, you’ll have to face tremendous seduction… from a man in whose shadow destruction awaits. However, since you’re strong enough to withstand any sinful temptations, great happiness will be waiting for you in the end… and it will follow you until the end of your days. But you will need to decide very quickly, and maybe you’ll have to choose someone, who at first doesn’t comply with your romantic notions and expectations.”
“Ah,” Minerva said. “What else has my aunt given you to make me understand that I should better marry the next best candidate?” She got up. “You are a charlatan. I may be able to forgive my aunt, because I know that she only has my best interests at heart, but you – you have knowingly lied to me for gain.”
Marie-Rose was still smiling, even though it looked a little strained. “Not everything was a lie,” she said, but Minerva had already left and only heard those words faintly. It really seemed as if everyone was working against her.
In the end, she probably had no choice but to marry someone, just so that she finally may have her peace.
Chapter 2
The deep dark moor stretched out in front of her, as far as her eyes could see.
Three weeks after her visit to the horse market, Minerva understood what her father had meant with his threats of teaching her about boredom. As of this moment, she had been in Scuffold for exactly twenty-four days and sixteen hours and was starting to feel at her wit’s end. So far, she had not been able to come up with a suitable beginning for her novel, which meant that dealing with written adventures as a distraction from the daily monotony was out of the question.
Uncle James did not own a library that was worth a second look. All of his books were either dusty old manuals and reference books, or religious and moral tract, which would not even have interested her father, let alone herself. Her only escape was to write, either letters or in her diary. However, even her best friend Georgiana had her limits, and Minerva did not want to continuously repeat over and over again how incredibly bored she was. What was the point in keeping a diary when the most exciting thing in her rural life was the fact that Anna had broken a teacup this morning? No, that accident was not worth recording anywhere. If only she had experienced a real adventure at the horse market and not just the shameful attempt to make her a wife as soon as possible. She had a beautiful notebook that was just waiting to be filled with adventures. But other than the notebook, she had nothing – no books and no life worthy of being called that. She had nothing but her imagination. She could pretend to be indisposed, close her eyes and dream herself away into a different world – one where she was brave and strong, and where she would meet the one true love, who would not just marry her for her dowry.
She sat down. She had a lot of imagination and she knew how to bring words to paper eloquently. What was she waiting for? She would start right now. If she did not like her beginning, she could always go back and change it later. She found ink and a quill in her Uncle James’s study and ran up the stairs clinging to her valuable spoils, her heart pounding with anticipation.
Entry of September 10th:
Her hands were still trembling from the exciting encounter that had happened to her ten days after she had arrived in Blackmoore. Oh, what wonderful coincidence, or what divine providence would Lady Marianne de Lacey have to thank, for the tediousness of this place had been mitigated with the arrival of…
She paused. After a slight hesitation, Minerva crossed out the word tediousness and replaced it with monotony. She dipped the quill once more into the inkwell that she had stolen from her uncle’s study, and she wondered what her future readers would like to hear more about. About a horse market and the Roma woman who pretended to tell someone’s future – or about the unfortunate barmaid who had promptly fallen in love with the duke, after he had appeared in the tavern where she worked? In truth, said barmaid was not really a barmaid – she was the daughter of a duke, who had been kidnapped straight from her crib at the tender age of two years old, and who now lived with the travelling didicoys… Satisfied, Minerva smiled and continued her work, only stopping when her wrist started to hurt. Her unfavourable posture in which she was leaning over the small desk did not really help.
She got up, stretched her limbs in the most unladylike manner and looked outside. There she saw Sally, the barmaid from “Dog & Bones”, the local tavern.
A thought shot through Minerva’s mind. Her relatives had prohibited her from entering the drinking hole, but they had not forbidden her from talking to Sally. As quick as lightning, she grabbed her shawl and ran downstairs, coming to a sudden halt right before the front door. She could hear the muted voices of her Aunt Catherine and Uncle James from inside the salon, and Anna was nowhere to be seen or heard. Quickly and silently as a cat, Minerva snuck out of the house. She assuaged her guilty conscience by telling herself that she would honour
her uncle and aunt with the first edition of her book, including an impressive inscription dedicated to them. After all, she wanted to write a novel that would captivate her readers from the first page – and what would be better at attracting people’s attention than by writing a story that captured real life and turned it into suspenseful literature? However, that was also the tricky part. Minerva had not the slightest idea what a barmaid did all day, even if she was in truth of noble blood.
“Sally! Please wait for a moment!” She muted her last words once she noticed just how unladylike and unworthy of an upcoming author she was behaving. The young woman, who she guessed was just a little younger than she herself, stopped in her tracks.
“Yes… Miss? What can I do for you?”
Minerva was trying to think of the right words. Now that she had to formulate her intentions aloud, she did not know what to say.
“I…”
Impatiently, Sally put down the basket of eggs that she had been carrying across her arm. “Go on then. Tell me what’s bothering you, Miss.” Her hazelnut-brown eyes glinted mischievously. She had pretty and yet bold features, Minerva thought. Tiny little curls of her bright red hair peeked out from under her mutch, which had been embroidered with (now faded) violets, and in places it had been patched with a thorough hand. The sight struck Minerva strangely and she realised she was staring at Sally as the girl bent down and reached for the basket. “If you want to ask me to retrieve a letter for you… then I wouldn’t say no.” She winked at her. At first, Minerva did not really understand what Sally was referring to. When she finally understood, she blushed, half due to embarrassment and half out of pride. Sally honestly believed that she was worldly-wise enough to have a secret admirer with whom she corresponded behind her aunt’s back!
Truth was that, despite her heritage of life in a world city like London, she was much more naïve than she wanted to admit.
Miss Honeyfield and the Dark Duke: A Regency Romance Novel Page 3
