by Abigail Agar
“That’s why I wanted to bring you in on the plan, my sweet love,” Jeffrey cried. “We can be together. By the sea …”
But it seemed Sally had given up on listening. She pulled Marina tighter towards her, huffing, sweat pooling around her neck, in her wrinkles. She blinked several times at Marina, seemingly recognising that she’d gone too far. Her hand slowly released Marina’s collar, allowing her to drop back. Marina steadied herself, trying to catch her breath.
“Just follow me if you know what’s good for you,” the maid scoffed. “And I think you do.”
Marina allowed her shoulders to drop forward. She followed, feeling like a dutiful child, marching down the steps. Sally continued to cling to the violin pieces, humming to herself, while Jeffrey flopped behind them, holding the candlestick.
They reached the main foyer before striding back towards the Duke’s wing. Marina continued to feel the tears sweep down her cheeks. She felt she was walking to her death, in a sense. How she longed to see the Duke’s face as it had been that afternoon and evening, almost captivated with her! And how she dreaded seeing it slide downward, the cheeks falling, anger making it hard and wrinkled.
They reached the Duke’s study door. They could hear him pacing on the other side, his feet marching over the afghan rug. They paused outside, with Sally Hodgins lifting her fist to the door. There was a short moment that passed, one that showed hesitation in Sally’s face.
“Come along, my darling,” Jeffrey urged.
But before she could knock, the pacing within stopped. Suddenly, the door sprung open, with the Duke on the other side. He huffed at them, his eyes dark and chaotic. He blinked several times—far more than normal as if he had some use over his eyes—but then peered over the tops of their heads. He hadn’t a clue what he was looking at.
“Well?” he demanded, his voice firm. “What kind of insult is this, appearing here in the middle of the night? Sally Hodgins, I recognised your footsteps …”
“And Jeffrey, my Duke,” Jeffrey cried out. “Along with, well. A member of your household. Or, a soon to be previous member of your household, I should say …”
“What is the meaning of this?” the Duke demanded.
Marina’s lips quivered. She so ached to blurt out an explanation, to explain the accident. But it felt nearly impossible, with the exchange of egos, with the Duke’s incredulous words, and certainly, with the busted violin between all of them.
Sally Hodgins made the first move. She pressed the violin into the Duke’s stomach, so that he had to drop his cane to grip the pieces before they fell to the ground. Immediately, his fingers found the strings, the body, the cracked edges. And his face grew slack with confusion.
“What on earth is this,” he whispered, his voice far too soft.
“We found her on the top floor, sir,” Sally said, scoffing. “She’d already busted the violin. She was completely inconsolable, of course, knowing that she’d done the very thing that would ruin you the most. I know she stole it from your study, sir—what an atrocious act …”
“Marina …” The Duke’s voice was incredibly low, creeping along, speaking directly to Marina. Even his eyes seemed directed towards her, although Marina hadn’t made a single sound. Tears continued to stream down her cheeks as she waited in a stunned silence, wondering at the insanity of this nightmare.
“Marina, how could you possibly do this? You knew … you knew how much this meant to me …” the Duke continued.
In the following heavy silence, however, the Duke’s face changed completely. It throttled, constricted, grew angry and pointed. And when the Duke did open his mouth to speak—he certainly wasn’t the chuckling, good-natured man Marina had had the picnic with earlier that day.
Marina prayed that she could be struck off the face of the planet at that moment. She prayed for release. She’d been foolish to ever suspect that the Duke could have feelings for her beyond those of employer and employee. And now, she’d torn through that boundary, revealing herself to be … just what Sally Hodgins had always told the Duke she was.
And she couldn’t verbalise the words to rectify her position.
Chapter 21
The Duke’s stomach clenched. Anger swirled through his mind, clutching at his every thought and forcing his tongue to articulate some of the wildest, most offensive thoughts he could possibly dream up. Marina—Marina Blackwater, a woman he’d imagined he’d plucked out of the ether and planted into his life for the betterment of everyone—had ruined the very artifact that linked him to the past the most.
This priceless violin, on which he’d played some of the most emotional songs of his career, was now in several pieces. The wooden slabs cut into his fingers, and he immediately bled. He could feel the bright bolts of it running down his fingers. And the strings, they beamed back and forth, smacking him against the chest.
“MARINA. MARINA WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?” he blared, spit flying from his lips. “Marina! I told you, over and over again, that this—this violin. This violin meant the world to me. How could you possibly be so foolish? How could you possibly allow this to happen? And on the top floor? I thought, surely, you would wait. Wait till the morning, till an afternoon when you wouldn’t have to be so careful. Why retreat in the middle of the night? Why hide away? And now … How can I possibly …”
He continued, spinning back towards his study and dropping the pieces of the violin atop his desk. He sputtered again, stabbing his fingers along his lips and tasting the blood. He could almost imagine the carnage of violin on his desk. Some pieces had scattered to the floor.
“I think it’s best, Duke, if the girl finds her way back to where she came from, now,” Sally Hodgins stated from the doorway.
At this, Marina let out a small whimper, seemingly of disbelief.
The Duke whirled back, sweat pouring from his forehead. “Marina, if you think for a moment that Sally Hodgins is incorrect in her assessment, then it’s clear you have a real lack of comprehension of the rules of this house. You think if you just come in here, letting my children run wild, allowing Christopher to break his leg on the very first day—and then smashing my violin to smithereens, you’ll be allowed to stay? At my estate, with my family? What on earth will you break next? How can I possibly trust you?”
Again, the Duke blinked several times—seeing a hazy shadow just beyond him. The shadow was one of three figures, three heads: clearly the head of Sally Hodgins, the bulbous one of Jeffrey, and another, smaller one, between them. He swallowed. Just as soon as he held this image in his mind, it disappeared once more.
Sally cleared her throat, taking this as her cue. “Very well, Sir. I’ll have the arrangements made in the morning. I don’t believe it’s appropriate that she say goodbye to the children. At the crack of dawn, she’ll be out of this life and onto the next. Best for everyone.”
The Duke heard commotion as if Sally was pulling Marina back down the hallway. He waited, listening as Marina strained, her feet clunking along the floor. Jeffrey tried to speak over the sound, eternally trying to gloss over the chaos.
“My Duke, my Duke,” he said with a sigh. “You can’t possibly believe how terribly sorry I am. I know what this violin meant to you. It’s entirely imperative that you move on from this, however. Focus on the future. The Queen’s ball. And of course, at this stage, finding a new governess for your children. Or a boarding school, as I believe Sally believes is best …”
“Why were you with Sally, upstairs?” the Duke demanded, asking the question almost without thought.
But Jeffrey stuttered in answer. “I um. I was walking through the mansion, you see. Had been going over the ledger in your library, as you stated I could several times before …”
“Duke!” Marina cried from down the hallway, her voice echoing out. “Duke! He’s lying!”
The Duke felt a strange wash of emotion. He fell forward, forcing Jeffrey from the doorway, so that he could turn his nose towards the direction of the young gi
rl. He could hear the panic in her voice. She sounded as if she was being taken to her death.
“Girl, don’t be foolish,” Sally Hodgins shouted. “You’ve already dug your grave. Walk like a proper lady, will you? I don’t want to drag you all the way down the stairs.”
“DUKE!” Marina cried again. “My LORD woman, let me go!”
There was a ripping sound. Sally shrieked. There was a strange thud, along with a low, horrible sigh from Marina. But then, he heard the familiar footsteps of the girl, darting down the centre of the hall.
Suddenly, the little fingers of her hand had wrapped around his bicep, gripping him tight. His heartbeat grew torrential. And again, that smell! Lavender. Dew. Honey. It swirled in his nose. How he craved to see her. To press her against him, to feel her butterfly heartbeats scattering against his chest …
“Duke, please. Please, listen. They’re stealing from you,” Marina whispered harshly. “Duke, please! Duke …”
The Duke faltered. He felt his world shifting as he fell back, dropping his weight on his back heel just before toppling backward. Still, Marina’s words continued, stirring within him endless confusion, and the deepest sense of loss.
“Duke, please. I heard them. They’re together, Duke. They’re robbing from you, operating the business outside of you. They’re going to take money and run, Duke. Run to the seaside, they said. Together … It’s … it’s the reason I dropped the violin, Duke. I did do that, Duke. I truly did. It was a horrible thing. Probably the worst thing I’ve ever done in my life. But Duke, don’t allow them to steal from you. Kick me out of your house; do whatever you want to me. But just don’t allow your business to go to ruin for the likes of these horrific souls …”
But Sally and Jeffrey reached the girl within seconds, tugging her from the Duke’s arms. Her hands flailed, trying to latch onto him again. But still, they pulled Marina further down the hallway. It seemed Marina had lost all breath. A single, soulful sob escaped her lips. And then, Marina was quiet.
“We’ll take care of this, Sir,” Sally Hodgins said. “I know you’re not gullible enough to believe these strange lies she’s saying. A crafty woman, this one. I can’t imagine she’ll go far in this life, after this. Not after we tell the world what she’s capable of …”
Jeffrey remained at the Duke’s side: the smell of coffee beans and tobacco and a bit too much whisky circling around him, seemingly swallowing the lavender. The Duke scowled, turning back into his study. Jeffrey ambled in after him.
“My dear, Duke,” Jeffrey tittered. “I can’t imagine where the girl came up with such a story. I wouldn’t touch your Sally Hodgins with a ten foot pole, and I know you know that for certain. My affairs in this house have never been the romantic kind, and you can be sure of that.”
“Just please, Jeffrey. Leave me, this evening.” The Duke sighed. He placed his fingers atop his desk and fell heavily against them, drawing his neck forward like a swan’s. “Please, Jeffrey. I can’t take much more conversation tonight.”
Jeffrey muttered a few last remarks, like the boy in school who couldn’t manage life without having the last word. “I know you’re always one to trust me, Duke. I know we’ve been in this life together through the bad times and the good. And soon it will be the good times again, Duke. You must remind yourself of that …”
Jeffrey disappeared into the hallway, closing the door with a slight snap. The Duke remained in the echoing silence of the study. His hands moved to the violin pieces, tapping at the sharp ends, tenderly scrolling over the flower etchings. He’d spent so many hours marvelling at the intricacy of the violin’s craftsmanship, knowing he would never have the ability to match it.
Now, he would never see it again with his own two eyes.
The Duke almost expected himself to cry. Often, the abrasive wall of emotion and anger crumbled to find him crying, his cheeks damp and his hands in fists, blasting at his thighs, his desk. But about this violin, he couldn’t cry. Instead, the voice of Marina rang through his ears, echoing. In her, he’d found one of the only humans on the earth who could possibly care about his family, about his children, and about music, too. At her core, she was indisputably a “good person.” Perhaps the best he’d ever met.
How could he possibly dispute what she’d told him? Had she any reason to lie? She’d worked through the tentative voice of the previous afternoon (how shy she’d been, as if they were playing at some sort of romantic game—one in which she was meant to be soft, demure, feminine), instead blaring out, like they were the last words she could have possibly spoken. It sounded like she was walking to her death, using her last possible words to clear not only herself, but to save the Duke, as well.
If she was speaking the truth (along with Charles, a man who had no reason to lie—although, of course, he might be verging on the edge of senility), the Duke needed to be crafty.
He couldn’t allow his suspicion to be found out. He might have insisted that Sally and Jeffrey come to his study that instant, so that he might demand what was actually going on. But he knew he hadn’t the relevant proof. He needed to see the books, yet he couldn’t.
These damned eyes. This damned illness. How the earth seemed to shift ever away from his favour, with the ticking of time. He’d once been a young man, at the front lines of a war that he felt proud to fight.
Now, he was an ageing man, an unloved man. A man whose children would become more like strangers, if he didn’t fight it. And certainly, he might be a man whose employees were crafting beneath, hungering for his once-riches—strategising for the day when they could stomp him into the ground and toss the soil over his box.
How could he struggle his way out of it?
Slowly, as minutes inched towards midnight and beyond, the Duke cultivated a plan.
Perhaps he needed Marina for one final task before she left. And perhaps, if she was found to be correct, she could return to the estate.
Of course, if not, the Duke knew she had to be turned away. His heart had already grown too heavy with feeling for her. For, with any sort of romantic feeling, he was putting himself at risk of heartache. His children deserved more than another loss.
But perhaps one last task for dear Marina, only 20 years old—far too young to latch onto the darkness of this estate. One last task, and then she could fight her way through another life.
Chapter 22
Marina spent the night in her stockings, her tight underthings, quivering and shaking as she cranked herself from one end of her bedroom to the other, feeling like a prisoner. Her anger made her blood boil, causing sweat to bolt down her stomach and between her breasts. The anger was for the Duke, not towards him; for she hated so that the gossip regarding his business (gossip that had even reached the farm) could have possibly swirled as a result of the two people meant to be closest to him.
For, why on earth would the Duke believe her—a relative newcomer in his life—when faced with Jeffrey and Sally Hodgins? Certainly, she appeared like an anxious girl, a girl apt to toss his prized possession on the ground. A girl more than willing to just blink a bit too long and allow his eldest son to break his leg in the woods.
Sure, for a moment, she’d thought herself having full control of the children (even falling in love with them, in some respects). But in essence, it hadn’t been so long. Only a bit over a month, which was nothing. She should have retreated from the house when she’d had the chance, when she’d recognised that the children wouldn’t have any lasting memory of her after that first night.
What was a month in a child’s life? Probably no more than two blinks. She would be nothing more than a half-burned image, replaced by twenty years of other educators, other governesses. She sighed, allowing her shoulders to drop forward.
How could she possibly convince the Duke of the truth? She sensed it was already too late, that he was making preparations for Marina’s departure. Outside, birds began their anxious twittering from the tops of trees. Grey light oozed out from beneath the clou
ds, casting over the dark, autumn grass.