The Duke's Heartbreaking Secret: Historical Regency Romance

by Kate Carteret

  When the party of three walked into the drawing room of Newfield Hall, Lord Newfield himself was already on his feet. He immediately looked surprised to see more than just the Duke there and his eyes flew to Anabelle, clearly recognizing her from his momentary glare on the one and only time their paths had crossed.

  Anabelle kept her countenance steady and was determined not to look away from him first. But his attention was drawn again to Lucy and although he smiled in greeting, Anabelle was certain that there was little consternation in his eyes.

  “Your Grace.” Lord Newfield recovered himself with surprising speed and bowed deeply. “I hope you are well. And what a very fine surprise that you have brought your sister with you.” He said, ignoring the existence of Anabelle altogether. “Lady Lucy, what an honor it is to finally meet you.” He took some steps towards them before bowing deeper still.

  Lucy froze, and Anabelle could hear her ragged breathing.

  “We have met before, Sir.” Lucy finally said, and Lord Newfield tilted his head to one side and made a very good show of looking confused.

  “Indeed? But surely, we have not, Lady Lucy. Surely, I would have remembered such a beauty as you, my dear.”

  Constance Newfield, who had yet to speak, was cautiously making her way across the drawing room to join them.

  She glared at Anabelle before she gave her attention to anybody else. Anabelle wondered if she thought them there on that day because of her threat and she hoped that the dreadful creature suffered just a moment or two on account of it.

  “Lady Lucy, how nice to see you so well again.” Constance said, tearing her eyes from Anabelle to study the Duke’s sister. “Your brother had told us you were not yet ready for proper company.” She flashed a look at Anabelle again to let her know just what she thought of her.

  “I am getting better and better.” Lucy said in such a tiny voice that Anabelle began to fear that they had expected to much of her.

  “Well, I shall instruct the butler to have tea sent up for us all.” Lord Newfield said in a strident and determined voice.

  “It is him, Giles.” Lucy said as she turned to her brother. “It is the same man.”

  “Lady Lucy?” Lord Newfield said and feigned confusion although Anabelle was certain that he looked positively upended.

  “You were at the garden party, Lord Newfield.” Lucy said tremulously.

  “That is right, my dear. Lord Sotheby’s garden party in the spring. What a pity that the two of us were not introduced at the time.”

  “I saw you.” She said and did not take her eyes off him.

  Anabelle was torn between pride for Lucy’s bravery and fear for her well-being.

  “Did you indeed?” He said, flapping a little and trying to indicate that everybody should sit down. But the Duke remained firm, as did Lucy and Anabelle. “I must have walked every inch of Lord Sotheby’s gardens, My Lady. Perhaps you did see me there after all.”

  “I am not talking about Lord Sotheby’s garden party, Sir.” Although her voice was barely audible, Lucy Saville had the full attention of the room.

  Anabelle looked from face-to-face and could see that Constance Newfield began to look as nervous as her father.

  “You have me at a loss, My Lady.” If ever a man was playing for time, it was Lord Newfield.

  “I saw you at the garden party that Lord Morton held in the summer of 1809. I was a little girl of six and I was there with my sister, Jennifer. My brother had just become the Duke of Westward, for our father had died the year before.” Lucy said, as if she were reciting something.

  “The summer of 1809, you say?” The Baron said thoughtfully. “Really, it is a long time ago, Lady Lucy. I really cannot say that I remember attending such a garden party.”

  “It would be a simple enough thing to confirm, would it not?” The Duke spoke finally. “I will speak to Lord Moreton for I am certain he will have a record of his guests.”

  “What is this?” The facade had begun to slip, and Lord Newfield was showing signs of fear and agitation.

  And if he had murdered a tiny little girl of six, Anabelle could think of no man who deserved such fear and agitation as Lord Newfield.

  “If it does anything to aid your memory, Lord Newfield, I might tell you that my sister Jennifer died at that garden party.” The Duke said, and Anabelle closed her eyes, hoping that the man she loved would not lose his reason and murder Lord Newfield as he had sworn to do on the night when she had cried in his lap. “She was drowned in a water barrel.”

  “I believe I had heard something about it.” Lord Newfield said but his color had increased greatly, his redness giving him away.

  “You looked right into my face.” Lucy said in a far-off voice. “You crouched down until your face was next to mine. You looked different then, but still I know you. I have always known you.”

  “Your Grace, I think it is very clear that your sister’s mental infirmity persists. The poor child is far from well and I would beg you to forgive me for suggesting that you take her home immediately.”

  “Be very careful.” The Duke said darkly before turning to Lucy. “Carry on, Lucy.”

  “You told me to stay quiet, to never tell. Oh, but I was so frightened of you.” Lucy said, and Anabelle could see tears silently rolling down her pale cheeks. “You said if I ever told, that you would find me. You would find me wherever I was, and you would drown me just as Jenny had been drowned. You would put me in a barrel and hold my feet until I stopped thrashing and I was no more. You said you would find me wherever I was, that I would never, ever be able to hide from you.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Lord Newfield bellowed finally.

  The Duke, his fists clenched, looked pale and so angry that Anabelle hardly recognised him.

  “My father never killed anybody, this is horrid. How could you come into our home and say such things?” Constance spoke finally, her voice shrill and afraid. “You are out of your mind, Lady Lucy. Your brother has already told us that you are mad.”

  “I have never said that my sister is mad, Constance Newfield.” The Duke’s sudden bellow made all present start.

  “No, he did not kill anybody.” Lucy said and raised a hand to her forehead.

  For a horrible moment, Anabelle thought that Lucy was about to strike herself as she had seen her do before. But instead she rubbed at her temples as if trying to ease the tension before straightening up and looking directly at Lord Newfield.

  “There, you see, she finally speaks the truth!” Lord Newfield spat angrily. “I did not kill anybody, and I most certainly did not kill a child.”

  “Lucy, are you sure?” The Duke turned to his sister, laying a hand on her shoulder.

  “He frightened me, Giles. He frightened me into forgetting everything. But it was not him. He did not drown Jenny.” Tears were streaming down Lucy’s face now and her shoulders were beginning to shake with the threat of fulsome sobs to come.

  “Then who did, my darling girl?” Giles coaxed gently.

  “I cannot see. Oh, Giles, I have let you down. It will not come.” She said and grew more and more upset.

  “There, she is mad.” Lord Newfield said, his confidence returning to him with some force. “I will not tolerate any more of this under my roof. This is my house, and I will not have you here any longer. Take your sister out of here and get her to an asylum, Your Grace, for that is where she belongs.”

  “You will mind your words, Newfield, or God help me I will strike you.” The Duke took a step towards Lord Newfield who, quite sensibly, took several steps back.

  Unable to bear anymore, Lucy fled from the room. As she did so, Anabelle caught a look of satisfaction on Constance Newfield’s face, such a spiteful look she would never forget.

  As she turned to hasten after Lucy there came a bloodcurdling scream from the entrance hall.

  Instant silence fell upon the drawing room and everybody present made their way out to see what had happened.

  It ha
d been such an awful scream that Anabelle had feared that Lucy had been injured in some way and her heart was pounding fit to burst clean through the walls of her chest by the time she and the Duke reached her.

  But Lucy was unharmed. She was standing stock still halfway through the entrance hall, her neck craned as she looked up at one of the oil portraits.

  It was the portrait of a girl, a young girl of no more than ten or eleven years. She was dressed in the most sumptuous gown and her hair was the brightest blonde, her blue eyes round, her skin as flawless as a porcelain doll. Anabelle’s mouth went dry as Lucy silently raised her arm and pointed up at the portrait.

  “Lucy?” The Duke said as he stood at her side.

  “I am free, my dear brother.” Lucy said and turned to look at him with such wide, innocent eyes. “I have it all now. I have every bit of it.”

  “Tell me.” He said gently.

  “Jenny and I were playing at the side of the house. There were so many pretty flowers and the sun was so bright. Jenny was running around, and I had begun to pick daisies and buttercups to make a flower chain. I was so lost in thought, so busy sitting on the ground picking flowers that I hardly heard the splash. But then there was some commotion and I looked up, I could see the girl, like a silhouette. The sun was so bright.” She said again. “It shone in my eyes and I could not see clearly. And then I became afraid because I could not see Jenny running around anymore. I got up and walked over, shielding my eyes from the sun so that I could see properly. And there you were.” Jenny said and turned to stare directly at Constance Newfield. “You were just a girl, but so much older than me. You were standing by the water barrel holding on to something. And the closer I looked, more I realised that you were holding onto Jenny’s feet. You had pushed her into the barrel and you held her down so that she could not escape.”

  “You are mad, you have lost your reason.” Constance Newfield accused but her face was whiter than snow and her shock very clear.

  “And then you came.” Jenny turned to look at Lord Newfield. “You looked at your daughter and saw what she was doing, and you ran towards us. You took her hands away from Jenny’s feet and you pulled my sister out of the barrel.” Lucy was becoming shaken again. “You laid her on the ground and I will never forget the look on your face. You were as afraid in that moment as you have made me for so long.” Lucy pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her gown and wiped her face hard. “You knew that my sister was dead. You had come too late. My sister was murdered, and your own daughter was the murderess.”

  Anabelle could hardly believe what she was hearing and yet she knew deep down in her soul that everything Lucy said was true.

  “And it was then that you kneeled before me, your ugly face so close to mine, so twisted and threatening. You swore to me that if I spoke a word of what had happened, you would find me, and you would drown me just as Jenny had been drowned. You said you would hold me under the water until I died. And then you left us there. You left us all alone as you took your daughter away. You protected yourself and you left me with the dead body of my twin sister. I was six years old! And it felt like such a long time before anybody came to help me.”

  “You cannot prove a word of this.” Lord Newfield said in a level voice.

  The fact that he did not deny any of it gave Anabelle chills from her head to her toes. He could not deny; it was true.

  “You frightened me so thoroughly that you chased my memory away.” Lucy went on as if he had not spoken. “But that fear was always there. Throughout the rest of my life, I always knew that there was something for me to be afraid of, even if I could not remember what it was. And then I saw you that day in Spring, the day of Lord Sotheby’s garden party. I felt as if I was falling and that there was nothing for me to cling onto. I have never known fear like it and I had no idea why I felt so afraid. You may not have taken my sisters life, Sir, but you most certainly took mine.”

  “And then you,” the Duke began in a commanding tone as he turned to look at Constance Newfield. “You met my sister at Lord Sotheby’s garden party and realised that she did not recognise you. You thought you had gotten away with taking the life of a child and you were so confident that you thought to marry into my household and become the Duchess of Westward. To live in my house, when you have been the cause of so much destruction.”

  “I was only a little girl. This is not fair.” Constance said in a dreadful whining tone. “You cannot blame me now, not after so many years.”

  “Constance, be quiet!” Her father commanded.

  “You cannot protect her anymore, Newfield.” The Duke turned to him darkly. “And you are as bad. You destroyed my sister’s life, you took her health and all the while you sought to improve your own status by having that dreadful daughter of yours married into the Duchy. How clever you must have thought yourself all.”

  “You cannot prove any of this.” Lord Newfield reiterated.

  “We shall let the magistrate be the judge of that.” The Duke said and turned to his sister. “Come, Lucy. Let us go.” He took her hand and turned to look for Anabelle.

  Without a word, he held out his other hand and Anabelle took it.

  As they walked away, none of them looked back. A very shaken looking butler opened the door for them politely, seeing to the Newfield Hall etiquette in a way which seemed perfectly surreal.

  “Thank you.” Lucy mumbled when they were finally in the carriage headed for home.

  “No, thank you. Without your bravery, my dear sister, Jenny would never have seen justice.” He said and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and holding her tightly for the rest of the journey home.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “What a beautiful, sunny day.” Lucy said, already standing at her window and peering out when Anabelle came into the room. “It is hard to believe that it is fully winter when the sky so blue, is it not?” She stood in her nightgown and shawl, smiling brilliantly.

  “My dear Lucy, the fire is not yet lit. It is too cold for you to stand there by the window in your nightgown.” Anabelle hurried over.

  “I am not as delicate as all that, Anabelle.” Lucy laughed.

  “You must forgive me, my dear. I know you are not as delicate as all that, but I cannot seem to help myself.”

  “You are just looking after me and I am grateful.” Lucy assured her, turning to look back over the pale winter sunlight bathing the lawns. “Everybody looks after me; my brother, Mrs Arklow, you. But I do sometimes wish that you would not worry so much. I am not made of glass, see?” She said and held out her hand. “I am flesh. I am whole.”

  “You are whole, my dear, and you are doing wonderfully well. You have been so brave.”

  “I would never have imagined myself standing up in court and giving evidence as I did.” Lucy said, finally coming away from the window and sitting down in the armchair in front of the unlit fire. “But I had the strangest sense as I stood there, Anabelle. You will hardly believe it, for I could hardly believe it, but with every word I spoke, with every truth that left my lips, I felt stronger and stronger. I felt better and better.”

  “And you did it so well.” Anabelle said, remembering her fear and pride in equal measure.

  Lucy had, when the time came, given her evidence confidently and with poise.

  The courtroom had fallen into such a deep silence when she gave her testimony that a hair falling from somebody’s head would surely have been heard to strike the flagstones.

  In the end, Lord Newfield had chosen not to fight it all. He had pleaded his daughter’s case, reminding the court that she had been just a girl of eleven at the time of the offence. A motherless child who had not enjoyed the loving guidance of that closest of all relationships.

  Anabelle had been gratified to hear the judge remind Lord Newfield that Lucy and Jennifer Saville had also been motherless children, children of just six who, despite their lack of that very special parent, had never hurt another soul in their short l
ives.

  The Duke had remained upright and tightlipped throughout the entire thing. Despite the Newfields’ plea, still the proceedings had gone on for three full days and Anabelle had seen how the Duke had worried for every one of those days that his sister would suffer a collapse.

  But Lucy had surprised them all. Lucy had shown everybody what true courage looked like and the purest strength.

  And in the end, the judge accepted the guilty pleas of the Newfields, finding Constance guilty of murder, and finding them both guilty of conspiracy to commit murder after the fact. Owing to Constance’s age at the time of the crime, she was spared the noose. But both father and daughter had been sentenced to serve a lengthy spell in prison, with Constance Newfield’s sentence lengthy enough to truly blight her young life. By the time she was freed, all her chances for marriage and family life would be gone. When she had complained in whining terms, the judge had reminded her that these were things that Jennifer Saville had been denied also and denied by her hand.

  “I am glad it is all over now though. And I am glad that Constance was not hanged. There has been enough death.” Lucy said, bringing Anabelle back into the here and now.

  “That heart of yours does you credit, Lucy. You are the finest young woman I have ever known.”

  “I feel truly free now, Anabelle.”

  “As truly free as you feel, Lucy, you must remember that it is only little more than a week since the proceedings at court were concluded. Do not run before you can walk is what I am trying to say. Take things a little slowly, if only to spare your brother’s nerves.” Anabelle grinned at her and Lucy giggled like a girl.

  “All right, I shall behave.” Lucy wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders. “But only for a little while.”

  “Very well.” Anabelle said. “I hear Miriam coming with your jug, my dear. I will leave you to get ready and I shall see you downstairs in the breakfast room.”

  “Yes, all right.” Lucy said, smiling up at Miriam as she entered.

  “Good morning, Miriam.” Anabelle said as she made to pass her.