This did not sound like a particularly desirous situation and Deborah felt herself rebelling against it almost at once. A Duke, who had more money, wealth and influence than any other person in England, aside from the King, would not exactly be pleased to have a nun within his own house, especially if he was not expecting her! What would happen if he instructed her to leave? Was she to remain regardless, knowing that Lady Markham, his sister, had requested her to stay? Or would she have to do as the Duke asked and quit the house?
“I can tell that you have a good many thoughts on the matter,” Mother Superior said, softly, drawing Deborah’s attention. “I will not force you in this, Deborah. This is something I feel is being set out for you to do, but you must not allow yourself to be overwhelmed by it. Pray about it. Consider it. And then return to me with your answer.”
Nodding slowly, Deborah pushed herself out of her chair. “But I cannot take my orders until I return?” she asked, feeling herself rebelling against the idea. “You will not allow me to take them unless I go?”
Mother Superior looked surprised and Deborah immediately felt a flare of guilt in her chest, although she did not take back what she had said.
“I will pray about the matter,” Mother Superior replied, eventually. “I shall give the matter much thought and will allow you time to do the same.” Her expression softened, her eyes filled with understanding. “I know that you are eager to take your vows, Deborah, but I must know for certain that this is where you belong.”
A little hurt, Deborah lowered her head. “I did not think that I had ever given you reason to doubt me,” she replied.
Mother Superior walked around the desk and came towards Deborah, one hand resting lightly on her arm. “No, it has never been a question of that,” she said, encouragingly. “Think of it as a question in my own mind. A question that I have not yet been able to answer. I believe that there may be something different for you, Deborah, than what you yourself have planned.” She let go of Deborah’s arm. “But I will not prevent you from remaining here instead of going to Lord Abernathy’s if that is what you feel led to do. And, of course, your orders will always be on my mind. I will keep praying about the matter until an answer comes to me with clarity.”
Deborah let out a long breath, feeling as though she already knew the answer to the question as to whether or not she would leave the abbey. She wanted to pray about it, wanted to come to the conclusion that she was required here, but the weight of the letter and the desperation of Lady Markham had already begun to settle on her soul.
“When must I leave?” she asked, a little dully. “And for how long?”
Mother Superior smiled softly, as though she had been expecting this answer. “Tomorrow,” she said, gently. “And Lady Markham has requested that you remain for one month initially, no matter what the Duke himself says.” She smiled as Deborah nodded, obviously seeing the frustration and flickering uncertainty in Deborah’s eyes. “You have nothing to fear, Deborah. The Duke will not harm you, for he is not that sort of gentleman. He is a man lost in pain, lost in torment. Help him find his way back to the light, back to the hope and the joy that he once had and I am certain that he will be grateful for it.”
“I must hope so,” Deborah replied, her stomach twisting painfully as she walked away from Mother Superior and back towards the door. “I shall go and prepare myself for tomorrow’s departure, then.”
“Thank you, Deborah,” Mother Superior murmured, as Deborah pulled the door open. “I truly believe that this is the path you are meant to take. Do not shirk from it. Who knows what will come of your presence in Lord Abernathy’s home?”
Deborah could not find anything to say, nodding towards Mother Superior before closing the door and walking back towards the staircase and her own rooms. Deep within her, she felt a trembling take a hold of her, her heart beating so furiously that she became a little nauseous. To leave the abbey was one thing, but to go to the home of an injured gentleman who did not even want her to be in his house was quite another! What would she say if he demanded that she leave him? What would she do? Mother Superior might be convinced that this was what Deborah was meant to do but she herself felt no such certainty.
Settling her nerves with a sheer force of will, Deborah climbed the steps and hurried towards her own little room. The familiarity of it comforted Deborah’s heart, reminding her that she would be gone for only a month. She would return to this place after only a few weeks, glad to come back to the one place she thought of as home.
Besides, Lord Abernathy could not be too difficult now, could he?
Chapter Two
Harksbury Hall was a day’s travel away from London. Deborah had risen earlier than usual when the sky was still dark and the sun not even a thought in the sky. She had gone to pray for a good hour or so, having been so lost in anxiety that she had felt as though a cloud surrounded her, darkening her vision and rendering her almost useless.
The coach that was taking her to Lord Abernathy’s home was dark and cold, the chill wind seeming to come in every nook and cranny. Deborah had tried to sleep as it had rattled out of London, but her fears had been unwilling to let her rest, forcing her eyes open and her mind to tumble with thoughts. What would Lord Abernathy be like? Was his injury truly as serious as Mother Superior had said? Over and over, she came up with visions of what he might look like, wondering what it was that had hurt his face so terribly.
War was truly horrible. It took lives whenever it pleased, pulling life from both the poor and the rich without question. She hated the evilness of it, the cruelty that left such an ugly mark. Silently, she prayed for peace yet again, praying that the injured soldiers seeking aid would soon come to a stop. She prayed that the men would one day all be restored to their families, that those who had lost a husband or a father, brother or a son, would be comforted in their grief.
And then she prayed for herself. She prayed for strength and courage for what was to come, worrying that she wouldn’t be given a warm welcome by the Duke. Her hands twisted in her lap as she looked outside, seeing nothing but countryside for miles beyond. Just how far away was Harksbury Hall?
A sudden jerk had Deborah’s eyes flying open, her heart slamming into her chest as she looked all about her. They had arrived at the Duke’s residence, it seemed, as she was entirely unprepared. Only just realizing that she had fallen asleep, Deborah rubbed at her eyes frantically, praying that she did not appear too disheveled.
“The servant's entrance, Miss Harland, if you please.”
Deborah scrambled out of the coach as best as she could, seeing the two footmen waiting for her to accompany them. One of them had her single, small bag which he carried in for her. Deborah lifted her chin, checked that her bonnet ribbons were tied tightly and that her hair was not tumbling over her forehead and followed after them.
Harksbury Hall was one of the grandest, most imposing structures, that Deborah had ever laid eyes on. Even looking upward, she could not quite see the top. In the cold greyness of the day, the sun did not sparkle on the seemingly hundreds of windows, although that did not detract from the impressiveness of the house.
Quietly, Deborah wondered if Lord Abernathy was somewhere within, looking down at her and scrutinizing her carefully. A cold shiver ran down her spine and she turned her attention back towards the footmen, seeing one enter into a large red wooden door. The other waited for her to catch up and, hurrying, she stepped inside and immediately felt a rush of warmth hit her.
The kitchens were just to her left, with other rooms to her right. The servant's staircase was directly in front of her.
“She’s here, Mr. Morris,” one of the footmen said, dropping Deborah’s bag at her feet. “That nun that Lady Markham said she’d fetch for his lordship.”
Deborah opened her mouth to say that she had not taken her vows yet, only for a large, broad-shouldered older man to fix her with a stern gaze, rendering her speechless as he came towards her.
“You are
not a nun,” he said, frowning, his gaze running over her and sending a wave of heat up Deborah’s spine. “Lady Markham was most specific.”
“I – I have not yet taken my orders,” Deborah stammered, feeling intimidated by the butler’s presence. “But I will do so very soon. Here.” She dug about for a moment, before pulling out a small note from her bag. “Mother Superior has written a note to reassure you of my abilities.”
The frown did not leave Mr. Morris’ face but he took the letter from her, broke it open and began to read. As Deborah watched, she saw the frustration leave Mr. Morris’ expression which was quickly replaced with a look of relief.
“Very good,” he muttered, folding up the note and putting it in his pocket. “I am sorry, Miss Harland, but I was expecting someone in a habit. You understand, of course.”
“Of course,” she repeated, awash with relief. “And am I to meet Lord Abernathy?”
The butler hesitated, his grey eyes darting from place to place. “I think,” he said, slowly, “that you might want to put your things away first. We have a room for you, of course, but it is above stairs.” He smiled tightly. “You are to have the governess’s rooms, although they have not been used in some time. They have been aired and prepared for your arrival.”
Deborah smiled, feeling a little more at ease. “I thank you,” she said, inclining her head. “That is very kind of you.”
The butler nodded, although the air of tension had not quite dissipated. “I think I should be honest with you, Miss Harland. Lord Abernathy is not aware that you have been sent for and will not display any sort of gratitude at your arrival.”
Deborah nodded. “Yes, I am aware of that.”
“Oh?” The butler looked surprised.
“Lady Markham’s letter made that quite clear,” Deborah explained, seeing the look of relief etch itself into the older man’s expression. “I will not be afraid of such a demeanor, Mr. Morris. I am quite prepared for it.” She tried to put as much determination into her voice as she could, even though her heart was still beating rather quickly in her chest. “You have no need to concern yourself for my sake.”
Mr. Morris nodded, tipped his head and considered her for a few moments. “Very well,” he said, eventually. “I shall have your things sent up to your rooms and once you have met Lord Abernathy, I will have the housekeeper, Mrs. Denton, show you to your rooms. You will have your meals brought up to you, of course, but you are always welcome below stairs and to seek myself or Mrs. Denton out, should you have any questions or concerns.”
“Thank you,” Deborah replied, relieved that she was to have at least one member of staff within the household that she could rely on for help. “Might you tell me more about Lord Abernathy’s condition?”
Mr. Morris grimaced but gestured for her to begin to climb the stairs. He followed after, talking as they went.
“Lord Abernathy is, of course, the Duke and therefore would not have been expected to fight,” he said, as Deborah hurried up the staircase. “He has a younger brother, however, and so decided that he wished to do just that, stating that his brother could easily take over the title and continue the family line if something were to happen to him.”
Deborah’s eyes widened. “Goodness,” she murmured, as they walked into the long, bright hallway. “That is a little unusual, is it not?”
Mr. Morris nodded. “Very much so. Lady Markham was most distressed but His Grace was not at all inclined to listen to her. Therefore, he went to fight and the next thing we hear is that he has been injured and will require considerable care.”
Deborah looked all about her, taking in the grandeur of the house, aware of just how small it made her feel. “I see.”
“His hand has lost two fingers,” the butler continued. “And his face, on one side, has been badly injured. There are the usual poultices and bandages in place but His Grace is not at all eager to have himself bound up in such a way. It is only because of his sister’s insistence that he allows himself to be looked after at all.”
Deborah frowned. “He does not want to recover?”
The butler hesitated, then shook his head. “I am not quite certain what it is that His Grace struggles with,” he replied, carefully, “But he is not a man who gives any appearance of wishing to get better and return to his former life. Instead, he cries out about the war, states that he would have been better off in the grave than returned to his life here in such a state of brokenness.” He sighed and Deborah felt her heart sink to the floor. “His Grace is not the man he once was,” the butler finished, honestly. “I will be honest with you, Miss Harland, and tell you that I am struggling terribly with his demeanor, for I do not know what to do.”
Swallowing her concern, Deborah fixed a smile to her lips. “That is more than understandable,” she said, trying to find some sort of encouragement for him. “I have seen and cared for many injured soldiers, and some of them have been in the very depths of despondency for some days. It is only when they begin to recover that a fresh light seems to return to their soul.”
“Then I pray that you will be able to bring such a light back to Lord Abernathy,” the butler replied, fervently. “His sister, Lady Markham, is due to reside with us for a time by the end of the week. I know that she will be most grateful to you for anything you have been able to do.”
They walked up yet another flight of stairs – although this one was much grander than the servant’s staircase.
Deborah found herself astonished with the opulence that surrounded her. Having been brought up in the abbey where any such ornaments or trinkets were discouraged, it was almost overwhelming to see so many things littering almost every surface. The Duke was, of course, exceedingly wealthy.
Ahead of them, a door opened and, her attention caught, Deborah saw a woman step out of the door, pulling it closed softly behind her.
“Ah, Mrs. Denton,” Mr. Morris said, with a small smile. “May I introduce you to Miss Harland? She has been sent from the abbey.”
“I have not yet taken my orders,” Deborah said, by way of explanation as Mrs. Denton gave her a confused look. “But Mother Superior has sent me in the hope that I might be of some aid to Lord Abernathy.”
Mrs. Denton, who had grey hair pinned back into a tight bun, a thin, pinched face and the biggest brown eyes Deborah had ever seen, shook her head. Her slim frame seemed to be tight with tension. The paleness in her face warned Deborah that all was not well with the lady.
“I am glad to meet you, of course, Miss Harland,” Mrs. Denton said, quickly, “But I cannot suggest that you meet His Grace at this present time. He is…..not in the happiest of moods.”
Deborah held Mrs. Denton’s gaze, seeing two spots of color appear in the older lady’s cheeks. Was she embarrassed to have to speak so openly about her master? Or had she been humiliated in some way by Lord Abernathy’s words, her embarrassment due to his harshness?
“I have come to see Lord Abernathy, have I not?” Deborah asked, softly, trying to push away the fear coiling within her. “I must be able to help him in some way, and I cannot do that unless I meet with him.”
“He does not know of your presence here,” Mrs. Denton replied, urgently, as though this was the only reason required to set Deborah away from Lord Abernathy. “He will be frustrated with his sister for doing such a thing and given how he is this afternoon, I cannot think that adding to his woes will be wise for either of you.”
Deborah tried to smile, refusing to listen to the warning in her mind. “I will simply introduce myself, that is all,” she said, even though her heart was pounding with fright. “If he throws me from the room and demands that I leave the house, I have no intention of turning tail and running from the estate. Lady Markham was quite clear in her letter that I was to remain for at least a month. I have every intention of doing so, for I want to be able to help Lord Abernathy as best I can.”
Mrs. Denton hesitated, sharing a look with Mr. Morris that Deborah could not quite make out.
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“I do think it would be best if you waited for Lady Markham’s visit,” Mr. Morris said, eventually. “But if you are quite certain, then, Mrs. Denton, I think we may attempt to introduce Miss Harland together.”
Mrs. Denton sighed heavily. “He is in a sour mood, Mr. Morris.”
“When is he not?” Mr. Morris replied, sharply, surprising Deborah with his tone. “Besides, it may be best for Miss Harland to see the Duke as he really is. We have no need to hide the truth from her now, do we?”
“I would protect you if I could, Miss Harland,” Mrs. Denton replied, one hand now on the door handle. “You do look very young and quite timid, if I may say so.”
Deborah allowed herself a small smile. “I am but one and twenty, Mrs. Denton,” she replied, “but I have quite significant experience when it comes to injured men. I have seen a good deal of strife and trouble, and I do hope that God has sent me here for the sole purpose of using that experience to aid Lord Abernathy.”
Her words seemed to encourage Mrs. Denton a little for the lady sighed, nodded and then opened the door wide.
It was time to meet Lord Abernathy.
What will Deborah do when she meets Lord Abernathy? Click here to get the rest of the story on the Kindle Store! The Duke’s Saving Grace
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In Search of Love: Convenient Arrangements (Book 2) Page 17