The Duke's Deception

by Fenella J Miller

  Marianne had no hesitation. ‘I would like to start with morning, then afternoon, then riding habits and finally the evening gown ‘

  ‘Exactly as I would have suggested, Miss Devenish.’ Mrs Dawkins was practically bouncing and Marianne began to suspect the gowns were not to be a disappointment after all.

  ‘Have you seen any of the dresses, Jane?’

  ‘No, miss, but from what I’ve heard I think you’re in for a delightful surprise.’

  Marianne felt a small bubble of happiness inside her at the thought of a certain gentleman’s reaction when she appeared in her finery.

  Standing in her chemise and bare feet she shivered. Jane had made her wait with her back to the door so she couldn’t see what was being fetched. She heard the soft rustle of fabric and she raised her arms and in the spirit of the occasion kept her eyes closed. The gown, or perhaps a petticoat, slid over her outstretched limbs and slithered to her ankles. It had no sleeves so had to be an undergarment.

  She raised her arms again and this time the dress was dropped over them. She heard Jane chuckling as she and the seamstress twitched and tucked. ‘Keep those eyes shut, miss, it’ll be a shame to spoil the surprise.’

  Marianne felt a sash being tied into a bow but neither woman spoke. Unable to bear the suspense she opened her eyes and stared at her reflection in the full-length glass.

  Who was this beautiful stranger staring back at her wearing a morning gown of deep rose cotton, the only ornamentations the pale pink sash that tied under her bosom and a row of matching rose coloured buttons that ran down the front of the bodice? It had a high neck and close fitting three quarter length sleeves.

  This was not pastel or white and neither did it have bows or frills, but it was as far from plain as she was herself. ‘This is lovely, Mrs Dawkins. I cannot tell you how much I like it.’ She stopped and shook her head in disbelief. ‘I thought ones morning gowns were not meant to be seen by others but this is far too beautiful to be kept hidden. I shall wear it when I go out for a drive tomorrow.’

  ‘No, miss, there’s something much more suitable for driving.’ Mrs Dawkins chuckled. ‘No, you cannot see for you have all the others to try first.’

  Marianne stepped in and out of dozens of gowns each one more fetching than the last. The vibrant colours, from gold to turquoise all emphasised her complexion and hair. Eventually she had had a surfeit and called a halt.

  ‘Mrs Dawkins, they all fit to perfection. Each one I’ve liked better than the last. I’ve no need to try on any more. They can be put away unseen. I know they will be perfect. Thank you so much.’

  ‘But what about the pelisses and redincoats, slippers and reticules - are you not going to look at those either?’

  ‘I thank you, but no. They can remain a pleasant surprise. I will wear the cerise evening gown tonight, Jane. It’s almost time to change for dinner.’

  The mantua maker departed delighted her expertise had been appreciated and promising to return in a few days with the remainder of the clothes. By five o’clock Marianne was dressed and ready to descend secure in the knowledge she had never looked so beautiful.

  Her evening dress had a short train upon which the merest hint of beaded decoration had been placed. The neckline was modest but even so it made her feel sophisticated and confident. She tilted her head and her ringlets bounced.

  She frowned. ‘I have thirty minutes before I must go down. I wish you to crop my hair, Jane, I saw several fashion plates with the style I want. I hate all these bobbing curls. Cut them off.’

  Her maid was horrified. ‘No, miss, I could not! Your hair’s so lovely and long enough for you to sit on it.’

  ‘And it takes four hours to dry and is so heavy it gives me sick headaches.’

  ‘If you’re certain, but you realize it will take years to grow back. Once it has gone that—’

  ‘Jane, I want you to cut it. Stop prevaricating please.’

  Unwilling to crease her gown Marianne slipped it off and with a towel round her shoulders sat in front of the mirror and waited whilst Jane pulled out the pins. She almost

  changed her mind as she watched her locks cascade down her back in a wave of gold. But the decision was made. It would come off. She would have a haircut as modern as her fashions.

  As the first tresses of hair fell she almost regretted her decision so closed her eyes until the job was done. She heard the busy snip snip of shears until finally Jane picked up a brush and ran it through her hair.

  ‘My, miss. What a difference!’

  Marianne’s eyes flew open and she knew she had made the right choice. The hated ringlets

  were gone and in their place were shining golden curls that tumbled in a mass around her face. She shook her head experimentally and ran her hands through the crop.

  ‘I can hardly credit how light my head feels. It’s as though I have been set free. Thank you, Jane, you’ve done an excellent job.’

  She stood up and Jane removed the towel from her shoulders and shook it vigorously. ‘I cut the hair off in such a way it can be plaited and stored.’

  ‘Whatever for? Why should I wish to keep my redundant curls?’

  ‘To have a wig made up if you should ever have a need to.’

  Marianne giggled. ‘I don’t want it, but you may do with it whatever you wish. It’s almost time for dinner. Quickly, help me back into my gown.’ As she had kept on her petticoats and slippers the evening dress was replaced and adjusted in minutes. She gazed delighted at her stylish appearance then holding her skirts carefully in one hand, her matching silk reticule in the other, she went to join the Griersons for dinner knowing she was tardy.

  She walked carefully and arrived more gracefully than was her wont. She paused at the head of the stairs to pass her small embroidered bag to the other hand, leaving one free to grip the banister as she descended. Tonight was not the night to arrive in a heap on the floor. She wished her entrance to be spectacular but not in that way.

  A soft murmur of voices came from behind the double doors of the grand salon. Had it been opened up especially in her honour? She grinned; far more likely opened to pay homage to the wonderful gowns.

  She glided across the hall smiling at the stunned expressions of the two footmen. She hesitated in the archway strangely unsure and about the radical change in her appearance. Charles was the first to spot her framed in the candlelight. He almost choked on his drink.

  ‘Marianne! You look so different I hardly recognized you.’ He walked towards her his eyes glittering. He reached out and took her free hand and drew her into the room and into a pool of silence and a circle of shocked faces.

  ‘Look at this. Have you ever have seen anything so beautiful, so perfect!’

  Lord Grierson cleared his throat. ‘Well, my dear, I hardly know what to say. The gown is indeed lovely— but the short hair? Well! I never thought to say this about such a style but it is exactly right on you.’ He beamed around his family assembled in their finery. ‘I shall have to hold an event here to show you off, my child.’

  ‘Thank you, Papa. I am relieved you approve. My hair was so very thick and heavy I have

  suffered constant megrims. I’m certain I will be free of them from now on.’ She glanced at Emily, surprised her foster sister had not commented. ‘Emily, you look lovely in your gown. White is perfect with your dark hair.’

  ‘I’m so sad you’ve cut off for your lovely hair, Marianne, but I agree with Papa it does suit you. With your new crop and elegant gown I did not at first recognize you. You look so much older, does she not, Mama?’

  Lady Grierson nodded, her dark hair still unsilvered was dressed high and adorned with a

  crystal coronet in which several golden yellow plumes danced. The feathers matched her ensemble perfectly.

  ‘Yes, I declare I approve. I wouldn’t wish you to do the same, Emily, for you have not her natural curls but on Marianne it’s indeed, perfect. And the gown! Well, my dear, the colour is not what I like to s
ee on a young girl but again I am forced to admit that it works. Mrs Dawkins is a clever woman.’

  Emily slowly rotated sending the hem of her dress swirling in a mass of white gauze and silk around her slippered feet. ‘And I love this gown. It’s the finest I have ever owned. I cannot wait to invite Arabella over and show it off to her. Thank you so much, Marianne, without your being here I would not have such wonderful clothes to wear.’

  Marianne doubted Arabella would find even one of their new garments to her satisfaction. ‘We will have to wait until the event Papa has promised to wear these gowns.’

  ‘Yes, Papa, what are we to do? Shall we have a ball like Arabella?’ Emily asked.

  ‘No, my love; nothing so grand. Perhaps a neat dinner will suffice. You can play the pianoforte and our guests can dance afterwards.’

  ‘Nonsense, my lord. You will wish to employ someone to play. Emily shall not miss the dancing.’ Lady Grierson was strident and Marianne saw Lord Grierson’s complexion darken.

  Quickly she intervened. ‘I can play most tunes, Mama, and I expect several of our guests can do so too. We can all take turns at the piano. That way no one will miss more than one or two dances.’

  Lord Grierson looked unconvinced then relaxed his rigid pose. ‘I think on reflection that is

  an excellent notion. Thank you, my dear Marianne, for offering. As we will be inviting only close friends we need not stand on ceremony.’

  The elderly butler appeared to announce dinner was served. Edward sidled up beside

  Marianne and whispered shyly. ‘I think you look splendid. It must be such a relief to get rid

  of all that hair.’

  ‘Thank you, Edward. You are quite correct. It’s as if a huge weight has been lifted from my head. I feel inches taller.’ She grinned. ‘But that of course could be due to the high heels of my evening slippers.’

  Together they followed the others into the drawing-room. The main topic of conversation was naturally the proposed informal dinner and dance which was discussed to a standstill. Then it moved on to a horse race to be held on the coming Saturday, two days hence.

  ‘I hope you are all coming to watch me,’ Charles said. ‘I have been practising for weeks.’

  ‘You needed to, brother,’ Edward grinned at Marianne. ‘Last time he didn’t even finish, his mare went lame halfway round.’

  ‘Bess is a different horse now. She’s race fit. I’ve been training her daily.’

  Lord Grierson smiled. ‘We are all coming to support you, my boy; I have a wager on the result so I shall be watching with interest.’

  Marianne noticed Lord Grierson did not specify on which horse he had placed his money but Charles appeared happy he had his father’s complete confidence.

  ‘Where do these races take place?’ Marianne asked.

  ‘On Great Bentley Green. We race three times around the perimeter. There is a festive feel to the event and stalls are set up and people come from miles around to participate and spectate.’

  ‘It sounds exciting,’ Marianne replied. ‘I shall look forward to attending. It will be the first time I’ve seen anything of that sort.’

  The party broke up late; the gentlemen didn’t linger over the port or leave to play billiards but joined Emily, Marianne and Mama in the grand salon. There they played noisy games and sang songs around the piano. The supper trays came in at ten o’clock and after that they retired.

  Marianne noticing the brightness of the moon as she returned to her room recalled her discovery of the boys’ clandestine activities. She had postponed her decision. Indeed had pushed the unwanted knowledge to the back of her mind. She was becoming too fond of them to contemplate informing, if indeed they were smugglers.

  She smiled as Jane slipped a nightgown over her head. If she was not to expose them she supposed she was now condoning their involvement. What a day it had been! She had discovered her guardian was masquerading as someone he was not, she had decided not to report her foster brothers’ nocturnal activities and she had radically changed her appearance.

  Martha Frasier would not have been so bold but Marianne Devenish was a brand-new person, she could do anything she wanted. She must trust Cousin Theo would regard her sophisticated image with the same enthusiasm.

  Chapter Eight

  Sultan was now sound. Marianne was able to ride out on him next morning resplendent in her new habit. Jane assured her the dark blue superfine and severe military cut suited her admirably. Unfortunately without her abundant hair the matching peaked cap was too loose and slipped constantly over her eyes.

  ‘Here, miss, stuff some straw into the crown. That should do it,’ John suggested helpfully.

  Marianne eyed the offering dubiously knowing the straw was possibly alive with unpleasant crawling things. ‘Thank you, John, but I think I would prefer to remove the cap.’ She handed it to Tom who was waiting to toss her up.

  On returning from her morning ride she retired to the library to read until the time to change for her drive with her guardian. A light tap on the door heralded the entrance of a footman carrying a silver salver on which was a note. She removed it.

  Her name, Miss Marianne Devenish, was written in a bold black scrawl across the folded paper. Her heart skipped and her lips curved. Marianne turned the note over; the missive was sealed with a blob of red wax, no imprint on it. Why had Cousin Theo written to her? Was he unable to keep their appointment later that day? She opened the letter knowing the answers would be inside.

  Disappointed she read that there was to be no phaeton ride that afternoon for her cousin was

  engaged elsewhere. She was accustomed to spending her days alone with only a book for company. However she had been looking forward to the drive and getting to know her Cousin Theo a little better. Now she would be obliged to sit quietly in her sanctuary. She could not settle to her book, she was flat and bored. Surely missing a drive with her guardian was not the cause of her dissatisfaction?

  The Grierson party were ready to leave for Great Bentley races by noon on Saturday. Marianne was to travel in an open carriage with the other ladies and the men would ride. It had been deemed unnecessary for more than Tom and Billy to accompany them therefore the majority of the Frating Hall staff had been given the afternoon off to enjoy the entertainment on The Green.

  Mama settled herself more comfortably on the faded squabs and instructed her two youngest daughters, Beth and Eleanor, to sit still and stop wriggling.

  ‘I can hardly believe the difference in you girls; I declare I shall be quite blushing with pride.’

  Marianne grinned at Emily who was sitting beside her. ‘Your pale-yellow sprigged muslin was an inspired choice, Emily. And your charming poke bonnet with its matching ribbons will surely turn a few heads.’

  Mama nodded her agreement. ‘Emily’s dark hair is set off to perfection, is it not? But I wish you had agreed to bringing more than that light wrap, my dear, it might well be chilly by the time we return this evening.’

  ‘A spencer would have ruined the hang of the dress, Mama. And anyway I don’t feel the cold.’

  Beth decided to venture a comment. ‘I think Marianne’s gown is lovely, too, Mama. What is the colour called, I forget?’

  ‘Eau-de-nil, my love. And you are quite right to say so. It’s a pity that your smart new haircut is invisible under your dear little chip-straw bonnet, Marianne.’

  Marianne reached up and fingered the large bow tied stylishly under her chin. ‘I own I could wish this to be a little less conspicuous.’ She smiled. ‘But I admit I am pleased with the cut and colour of this outfit.’

  Their carriage was forced to join a queue of vehicles all heading for the festivities at Great Bentley. This gave Marianne ample opportunity to glance surreptitiously at the occupants of the other carriages and also at those travelling on horseback. They seemed affable, nodding and waving when they saw the Grierson carriage but even to her untutored eyes none were clothed quite as well as they were. The complace
ncy on Mama’s face showed this had not escaped her attention either.

  However, the admiring looks from the many members of the military were beginning to make her uncomfortable. The presence of officers was inevitable owing to the fact there was a large barracks at nearby Weeley and, according to John, a second barracks at Colchester.

  ‘Oh, look, there’s dearest Arabella with Lord and Lady Hawksmith,’ Emily exclaimed.

  Marianne pinned on a happy smile. ‘How delightful! I am so looking forward to meeting the Earl of Fennimore and his Countess.’

  ‘I shall take your across directly we arrive,’ Emily promised. ‘I do believe that’s Charles riding beside them. Does he not look smart in his dark green riding coat and beaver?’

  ‘Indeed he does, Emily. And Bess looks in fine heart too.’

  Marianne watched Lady Arabella smiling, her usual affectations absent as she conversed with Charles. Then she noticed the two other occupants of the smart equipage. The gentleman was of short proportion and middle years, his dark blue jacket straining and his neck cloth a froth of white. He looked amiable enough. The stony faced woman sitting by his side told her Charles’s suit was doomed to failure. The Countess was directing a glare of such venom in his direction Marianne was amazed he hadn’t fallen from his horse. She was quite sure she didn’t wish to be introduced to the formidable Lady Hawksmith.

  ‘Will there be many participants in the races, Mama?’

  ‘Yes, Marianne; it is surprising is it not that so many can afford the entry fee? But the prize purse is substantial and you know how gentlemen love to gamble. There will be thousands of pounds won and lost today of that you can be sure.’

  Marianne shivered as an image of her would be abductor filled her head. He was a hardened gambler so John had told her. Lady Grierson mistaking her sudden silence for nervousness smiled and patted Marianne’s hands.

  ‘Don’t fret, my love, you no longer need to feel ashamed of your appearance. I have noticed all the admiring glances you have been receiving from the gentlemen we passed. You will be the talk the village by tonight. Having another beautiful heiress to pursue will occupy them wonderfully.’