“Do you mean because the opium has clouded his mind?”
“That too, but did you hear his words?” He nodded. “I cannot put my finger on it, but something doesn’t seem right. Your wife’s death, Thomas’s alleged involvement – all this sounds so…” She searched for the right word.
“Perfect,” Robert finished her sentence with a dark face. “I know. I did fear that my judgement could be clouded by relief, if one can call it that, that there was no evil intent behind Julianna’s death, at least not from Thomas’s side.”
Minerva placed her hands onto her hips. All at once she felt terribly angry, not at Robert, but for his sake. “Why are you telling me that now? So many mistakes could have been prevented, if only you and Thomas had spoken to each other. Will I now have to extract every single word, every consideration from you individually?” She shook her head, and her hair flew in all directions. “Please promise me one thing – do never keep anything from me, just because you assume that I cannot bear it. I am strong enough to carry my share of suffering and happiness in a marriage.” She paused for a moment. That last sentence reminded her of something she had seen recently, and Minerva was almost certain that it could be important. What was it? She closed her eyes and concentrated. No, she had not seen it, she had thought about it. She gasped and held her breath, then opened her eyes again. She felt nauseous, and her heart was pounding heavily in her chest. She was just about to say aloud, whom she thought was the responsible for the treacherous attack on her mother and why, when she read the exact same realisation on Robert’s face.
Beaufort Castle was but a few minutes away by foot, but when the two of them started running towards it, Minerva knew that every second counted.
Chapter 23
But then her survival instinct prevailed, and she wrenched herself from his grasp.
Robert reached Beaufort Castle before Minerva did. She watched him run up the stairs and stumbled after him, longing for the freedom of movement that the male clothes offered him in comparison to her impractical shoes and narrow cut of her dress. Where was he? She looked around, but he had already disappeared inside the house. Minerva forced herself to think calmly, even though she was completely out of breath. Behind her, she heard Johnson’s voice, talking calmly to Thomas. She turned around and ran back towards the odd pair.
“Where can I find Lady Beaufort?” she gasped. Thomas’s eyes were surprisingly clear for a man who had just suffered a gunshot wound. Did he suspect what his wife was involved in?
“If she is not in her room, you may find her in the parlour or in the park. She always liked to be outside, where she could feel the force of nature.” He spoke about his wife in the past tense, as if she had died. Minerva shuddered. The impression that she could be irrevocably too late, intensified. She pondered her thoughts. Should she first go to her mother, or should she instead search for Lady Beaufort in the places her husband had named? No, it was more important to look after Mama and to ensure that she was fine. Without acknowledging Johnson, who was calling something after her, which she thought to be something like a curse, she darted up the stairs. Minerva did not take the time to knock but burst into the room unannounced. Lady Beaufort sat by her mother’s bedside and held Minerva’s mother’s hand in her own. Minerva did not stop, but rushed towards the beautiful woman, who had not even bothered to raise her head when Minerva had stormed into the room.
She was the very epitome of a benevolent lady, looking after the sick, Minerva thought absentmindedly. Her eyes flew back and forth, but apart from an untouched glass of water, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, and nothing indicated another attempt on her mother’s life.
Without looking at her, Lady Beaufort raised her hand. Minerva stopped in the midst of her movement, and the momentum almost pulled her off her feet. “Please don’t do anything to my mother,” she said and was quite surprised at how calm her voice sounded. Her mother seemed to be fast asleep, because her breathing was regular beneath the blanket.
“Do you honestly believe that I meant to harm your mother?” Lady Beaufort’s voice sounded hoarse from unshed tears, but when she lifted her head now, nothing but hatred shimmering in her eyes. “You silly child. You were the target, not your harmless old mother.”
Minerva took a step towards the bed. She almost anticipated that Thomas’s wife would be hiding a dagger in the folds of her dress, but she did not see anything that indicated that.
“It was about the inheritance, was it not?” If she could involve her in a conversation for long enough, Robert would have enough time to come and find her. Surely he knew what Thomas had told her a few minutes ago, which was that the park was one of his sister-in-law’s favourite places, and was looking for her there. Hopefully he was fast enough to stand by her side in the event of an attack. Minerva believed that she was able to defend herself against Lady Beaufort, however, she doubted that she was fast enough to save her mother, should danger threaten.
“What else could it be?” the woman said mockingly. Her face was nothing but a rigid mask – pale and lacking any kind of emotion. Her beauty had become that of a doll, who absorbed her surroundings with an expressionless look. “I have sacrificed everything for my husband: my career, my youth, and my beauty. And how does he thank me? By spending all of his fortune at the gambling tables, in drug dens, and in brothels… and if that was not enough, he is letting his substance addictions turn him into a wet wimp.”
Minerva cringed. It was not just the bluntness with which Lady Beaufort spoke of her husband, but about the violence with which she spewed out all the hatred she had bottled up for so long. Carefully, keeping an eye on her sleeping mother, she took another step forward. This time, Lady Beaufort did not react or ask Minerva to stop. Only three, maximum four steps separated Minerva from the woman. “And there was no other solution other than to murder me?”
“It is not like I haven’t tried different things. I did warn you, did I not, during our walk in the park? I have to admit – the second time it was not that difficult, albeit ultimately unsuccessful.”
Minerva felt how the colour drained from her face. The true meaning of Lady Beaufort’s words, and what she had just admitted to her, hit her. “You were the one who pushed Julianna down the stairs,” she whispered, and the harsh laughter that escaped Lady Beaufort’s chest confirmed her suspicion. Her eyes fell on the neatly folded hands lying in the woman’s lap. The knuckles were tightly white, and the veins on Lady Beaufort’s neck protruded, becoming clearly visible as she gasped out the next words with tremendous effort.
“The silly goose was completely senseless from the drugs that my husband had given her,” Minerva’s opponent sneered. “It was nothing but a stupid coincidence that I encountered her that night. She could barely walk straight. All I had to do was give her the tiniest push with the flat of my hand, and everything was taken care of. At least, until…” Her face lost all colour, and the hands in her lap began to shake.
“Until I appeared in the picture and told you that I was expecting the duke’s child. You were forced to act upon the new revelations,” Minerva completed for her. She took a deep breath and dared to step up to her mother’s bed. Slowly but surely, the devastating confusion in her head gave way to a calm order. Anything that had been said or heard in passing, suddenly made sense to her.
Minerva started to see the structure that surrounded the puzzle of the attempt on her mother’s life.
Where she had felt fear before, she was now overwhelmed by a feeling of utter disgust. “Surely you were aware that your husband felt guilty about Julianna’s death? What would you have done if he had confessed to the murder? He could have ended up on the gallows, which would have left you with nothing, and even worse, with the scandal of being the widow of a murderer.”
“That was a risk I was willing to take,” Lady Beaufort dismissed Minerva’s concerns with a shrug. Her breathing sounded laborious. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”
Minerva felt
sick when she heard her father’s business philosophy coming from this unscrupulous woman’s mouth. Running a business with this motto was one thing, but applying the phrase to the lives of others, was something else entirely. She was just about to ask what her plan was to remove the duke from her path, when Lady Beaufort raised her eyebrows and tilted her head sideways.
“Ah, there he is, your knight in shining armour. Right on time, just as the villain is dispatched.” She stood up unsteadily, stumbled, and tried to lean against the bed post. Minerva watched out of the corners of her eyes how Robert darted forward, to catch the falling Lady Beaufort in his arms. “Too late,” she smiled, and she seemed almost to embrace her own death with relief. “I have decided to determine the time of my departure from the big stage, myself.”
How was it possible to feel so much disdain for someone who was about to take their very last breath? Towards Thomas, she had felt such pity and empathy that it had almost torn her heart apart. For Lady Beaufort, she felt nothing at all.
She watched as Robert let his sister-in-law slide to the floor. He felt for her pulse and shook his head.
A small sigh from the direction of the bed startled Minerva. Her mother had decided to choose that particular moment to wake up. Minerva didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry, or maybe both, which she ultimately did, as she ran towards her mother and threw her arms around her neck. When her mother spoke, her voice sounded muted, but happy. “Oh child, why are you crying?” Robert stood up, and Minerva’s mother first looked at him and then glanced at her daughter with a firm look. How she still managed to do that after everything she had been through, would forever be a mystery to Minerva.
“I do not even want to know what the two of you were doing on the floor, here in my bedroom.”
Minerva blushed bright-red – however, before she could straighten out the misunderstanding, her mother continued, “Please, just tell me one thing... when will the wedding take place?”
Epilogue
All is well that ends well, Lady Marianne thought, looking into the face of the man who was now her husband. Never again would she have to feel the incredible fear that she had felt in his presence for almost half a year. Everything had turned out to be so very different than she had initially anticipated.
Her father’s chest was swollen with pride, as he led Minerva down the aisle towards the altar. Her mother was only able to retain her composure and not cry relentlessly out of pure happiness, because the attendance of Robert’s aunt, the Marchioness of Queensberry, showed her the virtue of being reserved.
Minerva was nervous, but in a very positive way. She believed that she felt Robert’s presence and sensed him walking down the aisle in the small chapel with long strides. Indeed, there he was, and smiled at her modestly. To outsiders, he probably looked content and calm. Minerva looked into his hazelnut-brown eyes, and she saw the deep, unwavering love he had for her. Her father gave the bride’s hand – she was the bride, she still could not believe it – into his, the duke’s hand.
In a few minutes she would be the Duchess of Scuffold.
She didn’t really care about the title. Her gaze wandered up to meet Robert’s. He was the picture-perfect groom. He listened to the words by the priest who married them, in a relaxed and yet attentive manner. Robert had obtained their marriage licence through a friend of the family, the Archbishop of Canterbury, which allowed them to marry at any given time and place. Of course, at first, her parents had protested when Minerva told them that she wanted to get married as quickly as possible, however, these protests had only been half-hearted attempts. She had tried to explain her feelings to her mama and papa, saying that she could not bear to be separated from her future husband for a day longer than absolutely necessary. Her mother had sighed, her father had uttered a satisfied grunt, and with that, the question regarding their wedding date had been settled.
The priest had already asked the formal question, if anyone had any objections to the two of them being married. Unlike Lady Marianne’s duke, Minerva’s duke did not have a mad wife living in the top of the tower, so all people present remained blissfully silent.
Minerva tried to pay attention to what the priest was saying, but only when he raised his voice and turned towards Robert, did she really prick up her ears. Minerva had no doubts about what his answer would be, but she wanted to savour every second of it.
“Do you, Lord Robert Beaufort, Duke of Scuffold, take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife, to enter into the holy bond of matrimony according to God’s will? Do you promise to love her, honour her, and be faithful to her, until death do you part? Then, please answer with ‘Yes, I do’.”
“Yes, I do,” Robert said loudly and clearly.
Minerva noticed that one of the wedding guests behind them burst into tears. That could only be her mother, or Georgiana, who had travelled together with her parents all the way to Kent to attend the wedding and to see the eternal bond with her own eyes.
Now it was Minerva’s turn to answer the question – an answer that would unite her and Robert in the eyes of God and the church, forever.
“Do you, Minerva Lucille Honeyfield, take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband, to enter into the holy bond of matrimony according to God’s will? Do you promise to obey him, serve him, honour him, and be faithful to him until death do you part? Then, please answer with ‘Yes, I do’.”
“Yes, I do,” she said clearly.
Only after she had spoken the words aloud, did she realise that she was now the duke’s wife. He bowed his head, and the priest cleared his throat. Minerva felt all eyes staring at her, and it did not matter to her at all.
“Until death do us part,” he repeated their vow inaudibly for the rest of the congregation. It was a private promise – one he made only to her for the both of them, a moment of intimacy in the midst of the publicity of a noble wedding such as the duke’s.
That is what Robert did, short and tender. His kiss was sweet, even though Minerva longed to feel his lips on hers for longer. His eyes promised her that he would heed her wishes very soon. But first they had to sign their names in the church’s register and take the traditional wedding breakfast, before they could leave for their honeymoon in Italy.
“I still cannot believe it,” Georgiana whispered into her ear, when they found a short moment alone together.
“Neither can I,” Minerva admitted. “I sometimes look at him and think to myself that I must be dreaming.”
“I would feel the same way. He really is a very handsome man,” her friend confirmed. Minerva suppressed a proud smile, but she had to agree with Georgiana, nonetheless. Robert was everything she had ever dreamed of in a man.
The one drop of bitterness was the absence of his brother, but after everything that had happened, Robert was not yet ready to face him. After long consideration, he had decided not to send his brother to the colonies, but to give him a second chance. First, he had to overcome his addiction. Currently, Thomas resided in a private sanatorium, which Doctor Springfield had recommended. Minerva still remembered his raised eyebrows, when he treated the ‘hunting injury’ of Lord Beaufort and verified Lady Beaufort’s accidental death. Robert had told him the truth, however, and asked him to keep it confidential – not for his sake or because of the feared scandal, but to enable his brother to return to a normal life more easily. Doctor Springfield had agreed, on the condition that Lord Beaufort undergo a treatment and distanced himself from the use of opiates.
Minerva squeezed Georgiana’s hand one last time, and she promised her that she would write to her from Italy every single day. She hugged her happy mother, who could not stop her words as they said their goodbyes, and she embraced her father, who tried to hide his emotions, as usual, behind a grouchy grunt.
“Are you coming?” Robert asked and stretched his hand out to her.
“In a moment,” Minerva replied. She slipped unnoticed out of the large tent and waved over to Sally, who had taken advantage o
f the festivities to flirt with the coach driver of the marchioness. Minerva would have to have a firm talk with the young woman, but not today on this joyous day. Robert had offered to hire a French lady’s maid, who would be more skilful than the often still rather clumsy Sally, but Minerva had rejected his offer vehemently. The more time she spent with the girl, the more she grew fond of her. She would never forget the look on Sally’s face, when she had told her that she was allowed to stay with her at Beaufort Castle and not as a kitchen maid, but as her personal maid. Sally had repaid her by burying her nose into the magazines and periodicals Minerva owned, and studying the different images in them. Sometime soon, Minerva planned to teach Sally how to read, but for now she was happy that the young woman immersed herself in the drawings. By now, she had developed a remarkable skill in dressing Minerva’s hair in a manner that was in no way inferior to the hairstyles of the ladies of the finest society.
Out of the corner of her eye, Minerva saw a dark-haired woman yelling at one of the servants, who was desperately trying to hold on to her. The woman was moving around wildly, with flailing arms and stomping feet. Driven by curiosity and also because the woman seemed familiar to her, Minerva approached the two people. It was just at the right moment, as the servant’s face looked desperate. “I am telling you, I do know the duchess,” the woman insisted. Minerva nodded to the young man, who was relieved to let go of his wild captive.
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