Someday Her Duke Will Come

by Ellie St. Clair

  Max’s eyes jumped up to Tillie’s from his round spectacles, the look of panic clear. As the most quiet and reserved member of the family, the last thing he wanted was to be in the crosshairs of their loud, rambunctious father, lest he get any ideas of matrimony and matchmaking for him, as he did for Tillie. Sensing her brother’s panic, Tillie jumped in .

  “I grew tired of dancing, Papa,” she said sweetly. Baxter was a shrewd businessman, but he was also an absolute sucker when it came to the fairer sex. A few batted eyelashes and a puckered pout and he was putty .

  “Poor child,” he said with a grin. “It’s a shame you were born so beautiful, was it not? I blame your mother. You certainly did not get your looks from me .”

  He chuckled at himself. It was true. His wife, Gloria, was stunning, even in her 50s. She was elegant and refined and perfectly happy in the role her husband had given her. On the darker nights, Tillie sometimes wished she could just give up her dreams of creativity and freedom and settle into a placid domestic role (and enjoy it) like her mother did. It would make life so much simpler .

  But the bottom line and the ugly truth were quite clear to Matilda Olive Andrews — she wasn’t her mother and never would be. And what could she ever have in common with the woman who had agreed to give her daughter a middle name in honor of the import that had made them the most money the year of her birth? She shook her head against the very notion of being named after an olive .

  “I am quite certain Mr. Cashing was able to carry on and find other amusements in our absence,” she said, hoping the matter would be put to rest .

  “He was certainly upset,” Baxter continued, not dropping it no matter how much Tillie wished he would. “Told me all about it the next morning in the tariff office. Said he was worried you had come down with an illness and wanted to make sure you were well .”

  Tillie could hardly control the roll of her eyes and reigned them in at the very last second. Heath Cashing certainly didn’t care about her or her well being. If he did, he would stop pursuing her like she was some sort of prey with a very large bounty attached to it .

  “Well, I am perfectly fine. And I am sure Mr. Cashing is quite well, himself,” she said quickly. “There is no need to worry the situation further.” She really wanted to stop talking about Cashing .

  “Matilda,” her father said, his tone changing. She immediately looked to him, knowing something was amiss. He was loud and boisterous and to have his tone suddenly go soft and serious meant there was likely bad news following .

  “Yes, Papa ?”

  He closed his eyes and took the moment to wipe the bits of breakfast from his face .

  “I had a visit with my physician yesterday, child, because of the bouts of shortness of breath I have been experiencing lately. He did not exactly provide me with the most optimistic outlook,” he said. The chatter amongst her brothers stopped and all eyes were suddenly turned to Baxter. “It seems I have some trouble with my heart, and therefore the physician is unsure what the future might hold for me .”

  Her eyes shot to her mother, who had her head bowed and wouldn’t look up. The information wasn’t new to her, apparently .

  “Whatever do you mean?” Tillie asked, despite the fact that she was quite intelligent and knew exactly what he was implying. He was sick .

  “Nobody is promised another day, Matilda,” her father said solemnly. “It is my new mission to see you happy and well taken care of. Married, Tillie. It is my wish that you get married to a respectable man. Can I say that any more plainly ?”

  “Papa,” she said quietly, “I am so sorry to hear you are ill. You know how much I love you. If you take care of yourself, I am sure we can keep you healthy, isn’t that right Mamma ?”

  Her mother nodded her assent, and her brothers chimed in as well. They would all do what they could for their father .

  “So you understand now how important it is to find a husband for you ?”

  Despite the sobering news, she didn’t appreciate her father using his health as a bargaining chip. She chose her words carefully. Her father, jovial as he was, also had a temper. She typically didn’t back down, but he could win any argument when his anger raged like a sea storm .

  Besides that, she was deeply concerned for his health and that mattered more than anything at the moment. “I do want to see you happy, Papa,” she continued. “But I am not marrying Heath Cashing .”

  She heard her mother’s gasp and at least two of her brothers inched away from the table, preparing for impact .

  Surprisingly, her father didn’t blow up .

  “Then who, child ?”

  She chewed her lower lip .

  “I do not want to get married,” she said, her voice shaking a bit. She was speaking the truth, but she was also breaking every social and family norm in the books. It was simply unheard of for a perfectly sane, moderately wealthy young woman from an up-and-coming family not to make a good match .

  Her father closed his eyes, his ruddy cheeks reddening even darker now .

  “Love,” her mother’s voice came from the far side of the table, calm and gentle. “Perhaps you should go lie down. Calm yourself a bit. We will not solve all of our problems in one day, you know .”

  Her father’s dark eyes went from Tillie to her mother and back again and despite the nod that followed, the warning look he sent Tillie let her know the conversation would continue. And, from the glare her mother shot her way as they left the table, there would be consequences for her actions that morning .

  * * *

  I t took a whole day for the repercussions to become clear .

  Tillie was putting on her coat and jacket to head to Downey’s, as they had asked to see a few of her holiday gown designs. Their housekeeper Helene stopped her before she could leave .

  “You’re wanted upstairs in your mother’s sitting room, Miss,” Helene said, standing in front of the door. The sitting room was her mother’s realm. Her mother never wanted Tillie up there, her personal tastes and activities so different than Tillie’s. This wasn’t good .

  Slowly taking the steps, Tillie rounded the corner and walked down toward her mother’s sitting room with trepidation. It was a small, pleasant room that overlooked the garden in the back of the house. It was where her mother commonly did what Tillie referred to as “matron of the home” duties. She didn’t want to think of the hours her mother and her female servant spent in this tiny space, mending ripped trousers and cleaning stained curtains. It made Tillie’s skin itch just thinking about all that time spent nattering away .

  “You sent for me, Mamma?” She asked as she pushed the door open .

  Her mother was bent over a linen, repairing a slight rip in it. At her feet was a basket with what looked to be a pile of her brothers’ trousers. Tillie involuntarily winced .

  “There are six pairs of trousers that need holes mended and two tablecloths that need stains removed,” her mother said, motioning toward the basket with the hand that held the needle .

  Tillie looked blankly from the pile back to her mother and frowned .

  “I have plans, Mamma,” she said with a vague motion of her arm toward the front door downstairs. “I shall be late if I do not leave now .”

  Her mother set the piece that she was working on down on her lap and looked up, finally meeting her daughter’s eyes .

  “Your days of traipsing to and fro across the city with nary a care in the world are quite done, Matilda,” she said flatly, ignoring the fact that Tillie’s mouth dropped open. “We all have to do our duties to this family and it seems you are the only one who feels she is exempt. Well, you are not. From today forward you will help Helene with whatever repairs are necessary and then you will help Cook with dinner in the kitchens .”

  “You are making me a servant in this house because I refuse to marry Heath Cashing?” Her voice was pitchy by now but Tillie didn’t care who heard .

  “So, do not marry Heath Cashing, though I dare say you cou
ld hardly do better than a solid man with a good profession to provide for you,” her mother said as she put the work on the chair beside her. “But you are no longer going to carry on like a wild thing that you have been, utilizing your father’s resources to do heaven knows what throughout London. I am going to teach you to run the household, as you shall have to do when you marry. You will do it with your hands in the soapy water and fingers on the needles .”

  Tillie couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t move. More than anything, she wanted to think that her mother was jesting. Her whole life her mother knew she’d had little to zero interest in the day-to-day duties she contended with. Tillie thought her mother understood her need for creativity and freedom. Never before had there been an issue of her leaving the house when she wished, planning her own schedule. She had always felt fortunate to be afforded nearly the same freedoms as her brothers .

  Had she been mistaken this entire time ?

  “Your father has been lax with you and now he is not in a position to fight with you about marriage and moving out to establish and raise your own family,” her mother said as she advanced on Tillie. “But I can. And I will. Starting today, you will do what I say, when I say it. Unless you want to rethink your ‘no marriage’ mindset ?”

  Checkmate.

  Her mother was a shrewd tactician and she’d cornered Tillie with the choices she left her. Biting her lip, Tillie turned on her heel and marched down the hallway to her room, ripping open the desk drawer as she flopped down onto the chair .

  She scrawled a hasty note and asked her trusted maid Annie to have her brother Thompson deliver it to Henley Street .

  Her mother might have moves, but she didn’t count on Tillie to have a few of her own .

  The afternoon passed slowly and toward the end of the day, after she’d helped Cook peel at least two dozen half-molded potatoes, she worried that her note had either been lost or intercepted .

  “Looks like we shall be seeing more of your pretty face down here, eh, Miss Andrews?” The large, middle-aged cook with chin hairs teased her .

  “Not likely,” Tillie said miserably. The house staff were good people and she usually got on well with them all, but they were enjoying her new role a little too much for her tastes .

  For the entire rest of the day, Tillie worked. She knew that there was no way around it until her note was received and her plan sprang into action in the form of Alexander Landon. By the time supper had arrived, she wasn’t certain that her white knight was coming at all .

  Had he changed his mind? Was he punishing her for taking three days to decide ?

  She rubbed her aching wrist and began compiling a list of torture methods she would like to employ on the duke if he didn’t play his role soon. Another day of labor at the hands of her mother would surely do her in. She had newfound respect for the servants .

  She’d never been afforded the chance to work on the ships like her brothers had. Three had taken to it, the rest had not and that was fine with their parents as long as they found respectable professions. Why was marriage the only option for her? Why wasn’t she afforded the same chance to choose something other than the obvious as long as she found herself respectable work? She’d already done that part — her dresses were among the most popular in the city each season .

  She’d once attempted to talk to her mother about the success of her designs, but she’d been silenced just a few words in .

  “Hand me that basket of buttons, will you, Tillie?” Her mother had asked without looking up. She’d tried just once more and met the same reaction — effectively ending her desire to include her mother in her seamstress and design work. When she’d tried to speak to her father about it, he told her affectionately how glad he was that she had found a hobby .

  She needed a long-term plan, but she required time to put it into action. This charade with Alexander would keep her parents at bay while also providing her with additional start-up funding. Between that and money she had saved from sales thus far, she figured she could venture out on her own, no longer reliant on her family’s wealth to keep her afloat. True, she would no longer live as she was accustomed, but she would be free, and that was what mattered .

  As the potatoes she’d peeled were served by one of their staff at the supper table that evening, her mother took great care in describing Tillie’s activities that day in detail. She glared at the obligatory snickers from her younger brothers, received the nod of approval from the two oldest, and an ear-to-ear grin from her father. She could only bite down her disappointment as she swallowed the suddenly chalky, unpalatable potatoes. If only her father would be as happy for her to be doing work she loved, as he was her brothers .

  She glanced out the window at the setting sun and fumed before stabbing another bite of her dinner. Prince Charming was taking his sweet time in setting her fairy tale into motion .

  5

  U p and moving before her mother rose, Tillie hit the door like the hem of her pretty pink walking dress was on fire. Her brother Ambrose was headed into Cheapside to exchange a few notes of currency before he set sail to India after the holidays, so Tillie demanded that he let her accompany him .

  “I am picking up a few things for Mamma’s sewing basket .”

  The lie slipped so easily from her tongue she was almost ashamed. Almost. Her mother had cast the die and now it was up to Tillie to keep the game in play, even if it meant fibbing to poor, unsuspecting Ambrose a bit. He was a good brother and once he’d been convinced, he went back to his plans for India, which had previously been holding his attention .

  They parted ways at the currency office and she set off on foot for the dress shop. She knew she’d made a bad impression yesterday by missing her appointment, but hopefully the shop manager would be understanding and forgiving. She prayed he would, anyway. You never knew what to expect. The last appointment she had been late for at another shop resulted in a small Austrian owner greeting her with only a bad temper and a penchant for pointing a finger at her chest .

  Ambrose wasn’t comfortable leaving Tillie to walk the two blocks alone, but she convinced him to come collect her when he was done, meaning she’d only be walking alone one way. Hardly worth any fuss, really, and because she pouted and gave him her innocent face (Ambrose was his father’s son, after all), he sighed and simply nodded, telling her he’d be there to collect her in a quarter hour at most .

  It didn’t give her much time, but she was determined to make the best use of it to apologize and plead her case to schedule a second appointment .

  She wove in and out of the crowd headed in what felt like the opposite direction of the mass of people before she finally had the building in sight, down at the far end of the street. It was relatively quiet looking from the outside, no rush of people milling around trying to get fitted. She knew it was a specialty shop, and she hoped her designs would do well there .

  Tillie straightened her dress, righted the hat on her head, and pulled her pelisse tighter around her shoulders, the London air nipping at her cheeks as winter was rolling in. She began making her way toward the shop, when she heard a very familiar, very nasally voice from a few steps back .

  “Miss Andrews! Is that you? Miss Andrews? Pardon me, sir …”

  Clamping her mouth down to keep herself from cursing aloud in frustration, Tillie quickly shot forward into the crowd to try to lose Cashing before he got any closer .

  Tillie was small and agile, having spent years roughhousing with her brothers against the loud protests of their mother, who found the entire thing unladylike and taxing on her nerves .

  In and out she wove, hoping to hear the sound of Heath Cashing fading as he struggled to weave and dance through the crowd like she was. At last, she neared the shop and glanced over her shoulder, not seeing him in the crowd on the sidewalk. She’d lost him, she thought triumphantly .

  She was reaching for the door handle when his voice was behind her once more .

  “There you are! Di
d you not hear me? I have been calling to you for the past block and a half, Miss Andrews !”

  Forcing herself away from the door, she turned to him and met his eyes, forcing a tight smile on her face .

  “Good morning, Mr. Cashing,” she said, tamping down on the sigh rising up. “I hope you are well today .”

  He dipped his head .

  “Indeed, I am, Miss Andrews,” he beamed. “Even more so for seeing you out today. By the way, who has accompanied you? I do not see your mother about ?”

  Ever the model citizen, Cashing was obviously wondering about her chaperone .

  “Ambrose is at the exchange office for a moment and I dashed out to grab buttons for my mother,” she found herself explaining. She wanted to kick herself for it, too. She didn’t owe him anything .

  “Well, that is hardly safe,” he said, chiding her. Her hackles rose and Tillie wanted the conversation to end immediately. “I shall wait with you until you are reunited with you brother .”

  He finished the sentence and proceeded to fold his meaty arms over his puffy stomach. Unfortunately, Cashing’s personality matched his looks. He did not have the sort of profile that graced the pages of her novels and, today especially, his double chin resembled the side of a candle as it melted wax .

  She wrinkled her nose at his arrogance. If she needed a companion, it was to chase away men like him .

  “That is not necessary,” she argued. “I assure you that I am more than capable of finding my way inside and completing my purchases without any oversight .”

  He shook his head, not hearing any of it .

  “It would not be proper,” he said, continuing to shake his head so vigorously back and forth she thought he might be having some type of seizure. “What would people think if I let someone soon to be dear to me wander through this particular neighborhood unattended ?”