“The trustworthy girls are already employed somewhere else. It is not easy to find good servants when you are living in the country.”
“I think I know someone,” Minerva mentioned casually. “There is this girl with red hair – her name is Sally, I think. She is very friendly, it seems to me.”
“Sally is not someone you should be spending time with,” her aunt answered her suggestion. “She works in the tavern.”
“Oh?” Minerva acted surprised. “So that is what she was referring to, when she asked me for new employment.”
With that Minerva had gained her aunt’s full attention. “When did you speak to her? What are you saying?”
“I met her on one of my walks through the village. Sally approached me. She said that she was looking for a better job, where she wouldn’t be confronted by such immorality every day. I had the hope that I would be able to help her – she seemed very sincere, Aunt.”
“Did she? That is very astonishing to me,” her aunt replied drily. “Well, nobody can say that she is one of the dumb ones. She seems to be quick, too.”
“Thank you, Aunt,” Minerva squealed excitedly, taking advantage of the older woman’s speechlessness. “That is so nice of you. I shall go and inform the girl immediately. I am sure Sally will not disappoint our trust in her. I will look for her and tell her!” She rose from the table, but this time, Aunt Catherine was not willing to let her niece get away so easily.
“If this matter was not so extremely pressing – if you didn’t have to look presentable… very well. I will notify your uncle that we have found someone, for now. But,” she repelled Minerva’s friendly words, “... Sally will only stay in the house for as long as she behaves appropriately. Just one improper word, and you will have to do without a maid.” She shook her head, as if she was surprised at herself. Minerva wondered for a moment if she should flatter her aunt for her generosity, but she decided against it – she did not want to arouse her suspicion.
“Your mother has written to me,” Aunt Catherine continued. “She writes that the young gentleman she mentioned previously has approached your father for his approval to ask you for your hand in marriage. Your father has given his consent and advises you to receive Mr Nicholls in a friendly manner.”
Minerva swallowed hard and waited, although she would have much preferred to storm out of the room and throw herself onto her bed. Her face must have revealed some of her inner turmoil, as her aunt sighed and looked at her almost piteously. “Said gentleman has also written to us, meaning your uncle and me. He has business to attend to with the Duke of Scuffold, which will bring him into our area within the next few days.” Her mouth turned into a thin, disapproving line. “Since your parents have already met him and approve of his courting you, I cannot say much at this point, but,” she paused for a short, meaningful moment, and it seemed as if she saw her niece clearly for the first time. “You know how I feel about the duke,” she began quietly, almost mischievously. “And if you should decide that you do not want to accept the proposal of a man who associates with this corrupt creature, please rest assured that you will have my full support.”
“But… Aunt… this is…” Minerva muttered – not knowing how to react to those unexpectedly understanding words. For a second, she even contemplated telling her aunt everything – her forbidden excursion and her encounter with the duke, as well as his scandalous behaviour and even her decision never to accept a man’s proposal for marriage – but then sanity prevailed (or maybe it was her own lack of courage), and she stayed silent. The unusual moment of warmth between them vanished as the door opened and Uncle James entered the breakfast room.
“Something marvellous has happened just now,” he began, without noticing the silence between the two women. “The Duke of Scuffold has requested my assistance in a legal matter.”
When she heard the news, Aunt Catherine inhaled sharply, but Uncle James didn’t notice his wife’s discomfort, or he was determined to ignore it. Minerva’s heart, which had been rather calm before, now jumped painfully inside her chest that suddenly was much too tight for all the sensations that flowed through her. “He has invited us to his residence.” He looked at his wife and seemed unaware that Minerva was also present. “I know that you will not approve, but it would be a gross discourtesy if we were to decline the request.”
“But you are retired,” Aunt Catherine objected weakly, knowing well enough that she could hardly object to her husband’s painstakingly suppressed excitement.
“Yes, and I am bored to tears,” Uncle James replied. “I long for a conversation that’s about something other than the weather, or which young lady will soon marry which young gentleman.” It was only then that he seemed to notice that he and his wife were not alone in the room. Aunt Catherine promptly intervened and asked her niece to go and inform Sally that she was being needed as a maid, immediately.
As much as she would have liked to stay and hear more about the duke’s mysterious invitation, it wasn’t really an option, since her aunt had asked her directly and Minerva could not think of anything to say to prolong her stay. Maybe she should listen into their conversation secretly? But even this plan was immediately foiled, because Anna appeared just at the very moment Minerva closed the door behind her. What would her heroine, Marianne de Lacey, have done? Minerva wondered. Well, most likely, Marianne would have done the obvious and made her way to Sally to inform her about her new fortune.
As it turned out, fortune was not really the right word, at least not if she read Sally’s facial expression correctly, after she told her about the job proposition. It was almost impossible to interpret her reaction wrongly, since the barmaid matched her countenance with a flood of very clear words that were, thankfully, not obscene.
“And of course, you didn’t even think once about actually asking me what I want, did ya?” Sally asked as she swung her brightly coloured red hair back over her shoulder.
Irritated, Minerva wondered why the young woman had not tied up her wild and curly mess, but her thoughts were promptly interrupted by a rather disgusting swear word. “Maybe I like what I’m doing,” Sally said and placed her hands on her hips in an accusing manner. They were standing in front of the Dog & Bones and Minerva had the slightly uneasy feeling that she had bitten off more than she could chew.
“I bet there is something else behind all of this,” the barmaid continued her ranting. Her facial expression could only be described as deceitful. “I’d be willing to ‘elp you get dressed, but…”
“Yes?” Minerva had started to regret her initial idea.
“If I come to you and the Buckleys, Mr Charlie will not be too ‘appy about it,” Sally remarked. “One day, you’ll be gone, and I won’t ‘ave a damned job anymore.”
Minerva’s brain was working hard. “I could always speak with my parents about keeping you on. Maybe… you could come to London with me and help our cook,” she suggested.
“Well, that would not be nice after I ‘ad been your maid for a while,” Sally returned and shrugged with her shoulders. “From a lady’s maid to a cook’s maid – naaa.”
“All right then,” snapped Minerva, who was slowly but surely starting to lose her patience. “I will make sure that you return with me as my maid. But if I do that, I expect two things from you.” She did not leave Sally enough time to object. “Firstly, you will have to learn to speak in a more sophisticated manner.” Had she hurt the young woman’s feelings? It seemed as if she had. “Secondly, you must treat all my secrets in confidence.” It was already too late. Minerva realised that she had actually admitted to Sally that she was doing things she shouldn’t, behind her relatives’ backs.
“Yeah sure, Miss. I mean…” Sally corrected herself with a slight smile, “… I agree with your terms. I’ll just go and tell Mr Charlie and then I’ll come to you directly.” She turned towards the tavern, then turned back to face Minerva. “Oh, and I assume that the Buckleys will pay me?”
“That is c
orrect,” Minerva confirmed. She could hardly believe that she had actually managed to set a part of her plan into motion.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Sally answered daintily and marched proudly into the Dog & Bones.
Minerva exhaled a big breath she had held. Only now did she realise how much her upcoming second encounter with the duke, scheduled for this afternoon, had actually unsettled her. Although she was now fortunate enough to have an accomplice, she wondered whether Sally’s loyalty could withstand a full-blown interrogation by her uncle and aunt, or even her parents, which was also a possibility.
She had no other choice but to make the best of the tricky situation that the Duke of Scuffold had so skilfully forced her into.
She straightened her shoulders and hurried back to her relatives’ house. The duke wanted to read something of hers? She shook her head and noticed that she had forgotten to put on a hat once again. What was the reason for this absurd imposition of his? She could not think of one rational reason why he should be interested in her and her unfinished novel. However, maybe this was the whole point, she thought, as she stepped into the house. He didn’t need a rational reason for his behaviour. Most likely, the Duke of Scuffold simply marvelled in the thrill of manoeuvring young women, such as her, into compromising situations and enjoyed their discomfort. Minerva had two choices – she could confess her aunt everything, or she could go and teach this impertinent nobleman a lesson, in the stead of all the other young women whose lives he had already ruined.
The house was silent. Aunt Catherine had possibly gone to her room under the pretence of a headache, whilst her Uncle James sat in his study and prepared everything for his visit to his lordship’s residence.
Taking two steps at once, Minerva rushed up to her room. She wondered how the duke planned to be in two places simultaneously. He not only expected her at the pavilion, but he had also invited her uncle and aunt to visit his home, at the same time. She was fully aware why this invitation had also included her Aunt Catherine, but how was it that her otherwise astute uncle had not noticed this strange breach of etiquette? Either the duke was looking for advice from her uncle, which would make it a business appointment, or he was trying to establish good neighbourly relations with them, so he invited them both.
Then again, this was not really a problem she had to resolve. It was her task to write something that would show the duke his very own arrogance.
Fortunately, Marianne de Lacey was already the captive of a brutal villain, who could easily be adapted to match the duke with just a few strokes of her quill.
Determined, she grabbed her valuable notebook and opened the first page. She wanted to have the duke read her story as if he were looking into a mirror, and she wanted to make sure that he did not like what he saw.
Chapter 7
There was only one possible escape for Marianne, if she wanted to avoid her own ruin.
The few strokes of her quill, which Minerva had initially anticipated, had grown into a rather large number of adjustments. The man, who threatened her heroine in her story, had at first appeared to her as the perfect villain. His hair was black and straggly and much too long, and his eyes gleamed in the darkness like smouldering coals. He had a thick black beard and a hooked nose, which stood out prominently on his pale face. He was also extremely tall and scrawny. When Minerva read her description of him, which she had so enthusiastically committed to paper, she realised that this had not been her smartest move. Even the least sophisticated reader could guess that the duke was not planning anything good for his victim, Marianne de Lacey. Maybe it would be more suspenseful for her readers, if she kept them in the dark about her villain’s sinister character, at least for a while. With this in mind, Minerva saw her changes to the novel, which were initially meant for the duke, as improvements. She closed her eyes and tried to recall her encounter with the man. It was surprising, just how present the Duke of Scuffold still was inside her head.
Half an hour later, after numerous adjustments and crossings out, she had managed to amend the duke (in her novel), and she had given him a slightly less menacing appearance. His golden-coloured eyes shimmered in the soft light, she read. Marianne shuddered when the fiery gaze of the man drank in her appearance. His tawny hair curled in a wild mane and fell all the way down to his shoulders. His imposing physique towered over her by more than a foot, and when he rushed towards her, she thought of an exotic animal, pouncing on her in an attack. His full lips curled into a cruel smile.
Ah, this was wonderful! Had she exaggerated a little? Initially, it had been her goal to give him a rather inconspicuous exterior, but as she thought about it some more, she realised that the Duke of Scuffold was anything but unremarkable. Minerva read her words over and over again. This truly was the Duke of Scuffold, as he lived and breathed. Now, all she needed to do was to create a scenario with him and Marianne, which would mirror the despicable behaviour of the man. How much time did she have left? Not enough for her to be able to amend the encounter between Marianne and the duke to her own satisfaction. She sighed and put aside the quill. Today, his lordship would have to be content with what little she had been able to adjust.
She pulled on the rope to ring the bell. To her surprise, Sally appeared faster than Minerva had hoped, and she even tried a curtsey. “What can your subservient maid do for you, my Lady?”
“Do not overdo it,” Minerva warned, but she could not help but smile. Ever the accomplice, Sally returned the smile mischievously, and for a moment, Minerva forgot about her uneasy feeling concerning the upcoming meeting with the duke. Not only did having Sally accompany her had the benefit of making her feel safer, but she could now justifiably claim that she had not disobeyed her uncle’s instructions. He had allowed her to leave the village, as long as she was not alone. “We will be going for a little walk,” she said and packed the notebook into her little bag. The small book, which was not particularly comfortable to write in due to its size, easily fitted inside the pouch.
“I will need sturdy shoes and a stout dress.” She walked over to her trunk and opened it. Her hands found mountains of muslin and fine silk, but nothing that would be suitable for an extended walk in the woods. What she needed was… her eyes wandered across to Sally’s brown cotton dress. It was truly an ugly colour, but one only saw dirt if one looked closely. Sally’s shoes were also unsightly, but sturdy.
How very unfortunate that it was already too late for a charade. She imagined how she switched dresses with her new maid and how the Duke of Scuffold’s interest would vanish in an instant. He certainly would not waste any of his time with an ordinary servant girl, would he? Was not this the way to escape from the trap she was caught up in? She looked at Sally. They had similar figures, which made a dress switch absolutely possible. Unfortunately, the young woman would not be able to deny her true heritage the minute she opened her mouth. With a decent hairdo and a pretty dress, Sally would look more than passable, Minerva noted. It was a peculiar realisation that it took nothing but a little fabric to turn a plain servant into a lady. Beneath all their clothes, they were similar, if not the same. Minerva had just been fortunate enough to be born into a wealthy family. Otherwise it would be her to scrub floors or make beds, not Sally.
What would it be like to slip into someone else’s skin for only an hour?
With a deep sigh of regret, Minerva dismissed the plan as unfeasible (and not only because of the difference in their hair colours). It was an unrealistic figment of her fantasy, and this time even she had to admit that her vivid imagination had led her onto the wrong path. No, she had to face the duke in her own way, without bringing Sally into danger.
At last, the day arrived, when her relatives followed the duke’s invitation. The noises in the house revealed that her uncle and her visibly reluctant aunt had left the house, on their way to Beaufort Castle. Minerva ran to the window and watched as her uncle and aunt got into the carriage. It was also time for her and Sally to begin their walk t
owards the forest, so that Minerva could face the duke. She had given her maid the strictest of instructions. Sally was to stay within calling distance, and she was to remain quiet and not give away that she was present. Minerva had left her believing that they were on their way to a secret rendezvous. How was she supposed to explain her situation, if she herself could not find the right words to express what she was trying to prove to the duke? Whenever she thought about him, the first things that came to mind were his mocking gaze from those unsettling eyes.
Her feet found the way almost by themselves. With rapid steps and a pounding heart, she made her way through the woods. As they neared the pavilion, she instructed Sally to hide behind a bush and she explicitly told her not to come closer, unless she heard Minerva call for help.
“And what if you don’t even get to call for ‘elp?”
With a wave of her hand, Minerva dismissed the argument, but Sally was not so easily deterred.
“What if the ghost of the crying woman comes, and it scares you so much that your tongue freezes?” Even Sally had heard about the mystical pavilion and the ghost of the crying woman. Her imagination concerning what might happen if one were to encounter the ghost was colourful, and Minerva’s fingers started to tingle with excitement, knowing she could use it somewhere in her book. “There are no such things as ghosts,” she replied firmly, even though she didn’t feel all that secure about it.
“As you wish,” the maid returned and pushed out her lower lip. She let herself fall onto the soft moss behind the bush.
“Remember, I do not want to hear a peep,” Minerva warned her again. “You’d better not eavesdrop either!”
Sally looked as if she wanted to say something, but Minerva turned her back on her and marched straight towards the pavilion. She couldn’t hide a quiet gasp of surprise, when she saw that someone had covered the holes in the floor with wooden planks. Only the duke could have ordered that – but why? He had entered into a deal with her, instead of simply chasing her off his land. Did that mean that the Duke of Scuffold had a certain interest in her? Maybe he liked her – or was that just an absurd thought?
Miss Honeyfield and the Dark Duke: A Regency Romance Novel Page 7
