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Authors: Fenella J Miller

BOOK: The Duke's Deception
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‘If a man loves
you enough he won’t care for the gossip, he will know it’s untrue.’

‘I could never
allow…’ she paused, her throat too clogged to continue.
‘Could
not allow anyone to ruin themselves for my sake.
He would be ostracised,
not received anywhere, would be unable to visit Town or his clubs. I could not
do it. I love him too much.’

She groped in
her bag for a handkerchief and wiped her eyes. ‘I must learn to live with the
knowledge I shall never be a wife, never hold my own child in my arms. When I
decided I would retire to the country I never dreamt it was to be a life
sentence.’

Two hours later
the carriage had left behind several small villages then turned into a narrow,
seldom used lane with rutted surface.

‘Mercy me!’ Jane
exclaimed as she was tossed from her place for a third time. ‘Where are we
going?’

Marianne leant
out of the window and called to the coachman. ‘Stop if you please, I wish to
get down.’ The groom opened the door and unfolded the steps for them. Marianne
descended slowly, her nausea and headache having returned after being shut up
for so long in a stuffy, bouncing carriage.

‘I intend to
walk the rest of the way, Jane, I’ll not sit another second in that hateful
carriage. It cannot be much further up this track, surely?’

The coachman
having climbed down to join them came round, a puzzled expression on his face.
‘I was told the place we seek, Drayton House, was a couple of miles from the
village but it’s more than that already. I don’t think the springs will take
much more of this lane, that I don’t, Miss Devenish.’

‘It will be
easier if Mrs Smith and I are not in it. We will walk ahead— you rest the
horses for a while.’

‘You shouldn’t
go on alone, Miss Devenish. It isn’t right, not out here; it’s a dark and
miserable sort of place. Anyone could be lurking in the bushes.’

Marianne smiled
weakly. ‘It’s broad daylight, we will be quite safe. What self-respecting
footpad or highwayman would come to such a deserted lane?’ She looked up at the
groom astride her horse. ‘Ride ahead of us and check.’

Scarcely half a
mile had been travelled before the track began to widen and the surface become
easier. They rounded a bend and there below was the house. She stopped so
suddenly Jane cannoned into her, causing her to stagger forward.

‘What a dismal
looking place, Jane. The trees seem to crowd in around it and it looks as if it
is hiding.’

‘It’s not so
bad, Miss Marianne. It’s a good size and in better repair than Frating Hall.’

‘It doesn’t look
a happy house. It’s mid-afternoon and the house stands in shadow. I cannot like
it.’ She sighed. ‘But I shall have to endure it for the present. I have nowhere
else to go and we cannot roam about the countryside like gypsies.’

‘When my John
comes back he can start looking for somewhere else, we need stay here a short
while only.’

They heard the
crunch of wheels behind them - the carriage was catching them up. ‘Let’s go
down. There’s no sign of the baggage cart. I hope that means Annie is already
here, Jane.’

The front door
opened and a shifty looking, black garbed man stepped out. He was as
unprepossessing as the house.

‘You’re welcome,
Miss Devenish, Mrs Smith. I am Ellison, your butler. The girl is stowing away
your trappings. There’s a cold collation laid out in the dining-room.’ Then he
turned and stomped back into the house leaving them on the doorstep.

Marianne was not
sure whether she was annoyed or amused. ‘How extraordinary! I do hope the rest
of the staff
are
better mannered.’ They followed the
taciturn Ellison inside. Marianne stood in the dark hall taking stock and the
front door closed with an ominous clunk behind her.

 
 
 
 
 

Chapter
Eighteen

 

Marianne spun
round to see a footman, in an ill-fitting livery, dropping the bar across the
door. The man seeing her questioning look spoke up unasked.

‘You’ll not be going
out again today, miss, Mr Ellison says, so might as well do it now, and save me
coming back later.’

They watched the
man amble back into the bowels of the building.

‘It’s not right,
Miss Marianne, to speak so disrespectfully. You would think they had never
worked inside before.’

‘I know, Jane.
But I’m too fatigued to try and put things right tonight. Edward and the boys
should arrive later; perhaps the staff will be more civil when we have them
here.’

The food set out
was surprisingly palatable, plain fare, but tasty nonetheless. ‘I hadn’t
realized how hungry I was, Jane. That rabbit pasty was delicious and the bread
was fresh from the oven.’

‘I’m glad the
cook is one member of staff we won’t have to replace. I imagine it’s going to
be hard to find people willing to work so far out.’

‘Not so far,
Jane. I doubt it’s more than a two-hour walk to the village, country folk think

nothing of such a journey.’

‘That’s as may
be…’ Jane cocked her head, listening. ‘That sounds like a carriage arriving.
Who could possibly be coming to visit us here?’

‘The sound is
getting fainter, Jane, it’s a carriage leaving.’ An awful thought occurred to
her and she abandoned her seat at the table and ran to the window from which
she could catch a glimpse of the far end of the drive. ‘That’s our carriage and
the baggage cart, they are going and the two grooms with them. They were
supposed to wait for Edward. There’s something odd going on. I shall speak to
Ellison.’

She found a bell
strap and yanked it hard. The butler appeared almost immediately as though he
had been expecting her summons.

‘Ellison, why
are my carriage and cart leaving? They were to wait here for Master Edward
Grierson.’

‘Begging your
pardon, Miss Devenish, but my instructions was to send them straight back to Brook
Street. The young gentleman is to wait there, coming down here first will add
hours to his return.’

Marianne could
see the logic in this but wondered why Mr Sampson had not informed her of the
change of plans. ‘Very well, Ellison, thank you. Could you ask the housekeeper
to conduct us to our apartments?’

The man shook
his head. ‘There’s no housekeeper here, Miss Devenish, but I will send the
footman to you right away.’

She waited until
he had gone before voicing her concerns. ‘I cannot like this, Jane. An all-male
staff? It is hardly suitable. What can Mr Sampson have been thinking of?’

‘I doubt he
enquired too closely, Miss Marianne; we had our marching orders and he was

desperate to find us somewhere to
go.’

‘I’ll not be
content until John’s here with us. But there are three of us, we will just have
to ensure we stay together. We shall go up and inspect the rooms as soon as the
footman comes.’

The ill clothed
footman conducted them upstairs and along a dark, unlit passageway to the

rear of the house. He stopped
outside a stout door, nodded and then ambled back the way he had come leaving
them to open the door for themselves.

Marianne pushed
it open and was unimpressed by her sitting room. ‘There’s no furniture in here.
Three wooden chairs, a sideboard and a small table don’t make a cosy place to
sit.’

‘It’s clean at
least but it looks bare without window hangings or carpets.’

‘Is there a key?
I should feel happier if we could lock the door.’

Jane went to
investigate. ‘No, not in the door at any rate.’

Annie hearing
them arrive came through from the bedchamber. ‘Miss Devenish, I’ve started to
unpack your trunks, there’s plenty of closet space and the bed linen is fresh.
But when I asked for a bath that Mr Ellison said there wasn’t one available.’

‘It’s a small
problem, Annie, I can complete my ablutions with a jug and basin just as well.’

The bedchamber
was as sparsely furnished as the parlour. The old-fashioned mahogany bed was
large enough to sleep a family and have room to spare but it stood lonely in
the centre of the empty room.

‘I wish you both
to remain in here with me. There’s ample room in this bed for us all.’

For once neither
woman protested that it would be unfitting for Marianne to share her bed. She
would be safe with them on either side of her.

Marianne felt
uneasy in her surroundings but couldn’t explain what was unsettling her.

‘Annie, Jane, I
wish you to repack my trunks; are they still up here?’

‘They are, Miss
Devenish. I’m only half done.’

‘Excellent. I’ll
need the barest necessities, my night rail and walking dress for tomorrow,
nothing else. I don’t intend to stay here. When John and the boys arrive I’ll
have a carriage hired and we shall remove to the nearest inn.’

‘I’m relieved to
hear that, Miss Marianne. There’s a bad feeling about Drayton House.’

Refilling the
trunks occupied all three for the remainder of the day. No one came to bring
them food or lights.

‘It is a good
thing we carry a tinderbox and candles, miss. Shall I get some out? It will be
dark soon enough.’

‘Annie can do that,
Jane. Will you ring down and ask for a tray to be sent up? I don’t wish to go
downstairs again today.’

They waited as
the late evening sunlight filtering reluctantly into the west facing room.
Shuffling footsteps heralded the arrival of someone to answer the summons. The
door opened and two young boys staggered in carrying laden trays. Ellison had
anticipated their request.

‘Put the trays
on the sideboard if you will,’ Jane directed. The boys complied, keeping their
heads down, not making eye contact. Having deposited their load they scuttled
off.

Marianne
frowned. Why were the staff afraid to speak to her? Had news of her disgrace
reached to deepest, darkest Hertfordshire? Jane on examining the trays looked
cheerful for the first time that day.

‘This is a
feast, Miss Marianne, the cook has done us proud. Whatever else is wrong in
this place we’re not going to starve.’

The tureen of
aromatic vegetable broth was accompanied by hunks of warm bread and fresh

butter. Apple pie and local cheese
made up the dessert course. To drink they had a jug of lemonade. There was
little left by the time they had eaten. The strange circumstances had lowered
the usual barriers between mistress and staff and the shared supper was an
enjoyable experience in an otherwise bleak day.

There had been
several beeswax candles included on the trays and Annie and Jane soon
positioned them about the rooms. The flickering yellow light gave the room an
aura of comfort and Marianne began to believe her worries were unfounded.

When the trays
were placed outside the door she dismissed both Annie and Jane sending them to
sit in the small dressing room. She needed to be alone, to marshal her thoughts
and consider her options.

The lack of a
carriage meant they were trapped at Drayton House. Then she remembered Sultan
was stabled somewhere; things were not so bad. She could ride him to the
nearest village.

She shivered.
What nonsense was she thinking? This was not a gothic romance and she the
heroine. She was being ridiculous. But her experiences of the last two days had
seemed as unreal as a novel. She wished she had a book to read but had no
intention of leaving the room to seek out the library.

Grateful the
night was warm she went to sit on the window ledge. She heard the unmistakable
sound of nightingales singing in the trees and the call of a nightjar somewhere
in a nearby field and her heart lifted with their song. Then she heard
something else, not a bird, but the distinctive sound of a carriage
approaching. She craned out of the window and saw the bobbing lights of the
vehicle. She stepped away her heart pounding. Whoever was coming they were
expected for she heard the front door being opened.

She retreated to
the bedroom and called quietly for Jane to come. ‘Someone has arrived, they were
expected.’

‘I don’t like
this, Miss Marianne. No one should have access here. This is supposed to be
your property.’

Marianne felt
the urgent need to protect both herself and her staff from the night visitor.
‘Can we barricade this room? Put the furniture against the door somehow?’ She
looked round the room and knew why the room had so little in it. This was to
prevent her from blocking the entrance. She felt ill but had to remain calm. If
she showed her fear then both Annie and Jane would be afraid also.

‘Shall we sit
down? We can do nothing else. Whatever is planned, it’s out of our hands.’

They each took a
chair, bringing them close together in a semicircle facing the door. They
waited silently.

A male voice,
deep, well bred, could be heard in the distance and then heavy footsteps
reverberated down the uncarpeted corridor outside the room. Marianne forced
herself to sit upright in her chair and schooled her expression to one of quite
disdain. Her hands were trembling so much she was forced to hide them in her
lap.

The door opened
and a tall, immaculately dressed man stepped in, the epitome of elegance. His
boots so shiny they reflected pinpricks of candlelight.

‘Well, well,
Miss Devenish, it appears you are expecting me— how very delightful!’ Sir James
Russell bowed politely and his mouth curved into a smile that meant nothing.
Marianne stared in fear and loathing, too shocked to answer. ‘Cat got your
tongue, my dear? I seem to remember you had plenty to say when you drove out
with me in Bath.’

Marianne closed
her eyes hoping this was a nightmare but when she opened them again the
despicable villain had not vanished. She wasn’t to be allowed to sit in
silence. With appalling speed Sir James crossed the room and seizing her
shoulders dragged her from her chair.

This was too
much for Jane. With a scream of rage she threw herself at the man. He released
his grip on Marianne’s left shoulder long enough to swing his fist and it
connected with Jane’s temple sending her crashing to the boards unconscious.

Annie, sobbing
wildly dropped to her knees to cradle Jane’s head. Marianne snatched up one of
her own silver candlesticks and with one swing attempted to dash his brains
out. He saw her blow coming and twisted his head so avoiding its full force.
However the edge of the candlestick slashed across his cheek to open it almost
to the bone.

With a roar of
pain and rage he flung Marianne to the floor clamping his right hand to his
cheek in an attempt to stem the flow of blood. ‘You are going to regret this,
all of you. I could have made this easy but not anymore. By Christ you will be
sorry, girl, when I have finished with you.’ He slammed out and she heard the
key turn in the lock.

Slowly she
picked herself up from the floor. Both elbows were bruised but otherwise she
was unhurt. She hurried over to Jane, still unconscious, her face chalk white
apart from the growing red stain on her forehead.

‘Annie, help me
carry Jane to the bedroom. We must put her on the bed. She’s not too heavy, we
can manage it easily.’ She spoke quietly but firmly hoping her apparent command
of the situation would steady the almost hysterical girl.

Annie gulped and
nodded. With a deal of effort they accomplished the task and whilst Annie
removed Jane’s outer garments Marianne hurried into the dressing-room to soak a
cloth with cold water from the pitcher there.

‘Here, press
this on Jane’s head, where the blow fell, it will help.’ She returned to the

dressing-room and poured water into
a small china bowl then took it back to the bedchamber. ‘The cloth must be wet,
Annie, dip it frequently into the water to keep it so.’

Annie nodded and
sniffed but made no attempt to speak. Terror made her mute. Marianne returned
to the sitting-room closing the door quietly behind her. She had two options,
to remain calm or to succumb to her fear.

She forced
herself to walk in measured steps from one end of the room to the other,
pausing occasionally by the open window, trying to take deep, cooling drafts of
air. Sir James would return as soon as his head was bandaged. His threats had
not been idle ones.

She gripped the
window sill as terror rocked her. When the monster returned would her life be
forfeit? She felt herself falling into a dark spiral and her knees began to
crumple. She forced the faintness away. She had to remain alert, to think— all
their lives depended on her ability to reason.

She heard him
coming back and wanted to scream, to run and hide in her closet like a
five-year-old but was rooted behind the chair, her knuckles white.

He remained
framed in the door, assessing her mood. She needed to keep him calm, talk to
him, convince him she was on his side, enraging him further would not help.
John and the boys would come tomorrow; she just had to keep them safe until
then.

She forced her
lips into a smile. ‘I must apologize for injuring you, sir. That was most
unladylike behaviour.’

‘Sweet talk will
not save you, so don’t bother to try it.’

She tossed her
head and attempted to look disdainful, not terrified. ‘You are a monster, sir.
You struck down my companion without a qualm. I am as likely to sweet talk you
as sprout wings and fly.’

‘Sit down.’
Obediently she walked around the chair and sat neatly, ankles crossed, hands in
her lap. She said nothing further, just waited for events to unravel as they
would. ‘What, no grovelling? No questions even?’ He spun a chair and straddled
it, barely a foot away from her. She could feel his feral breath on her cheeks.
She would not react, show how much she hated him being close.

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