Say Yes to the Duke

by Kieran Kramer

  The nurse hesitated. “No, she hasn’t. Only the Queen has.”

  “I’m so sorry about that,” said Janice. “Listen to me, Mrs. Poole. I’m speaking the truth. I find your whistle not imposing at all. And when you smile—as you did today—I completely forget about it anyway.”

  Mrs. Poole went to the window and looked out. “You’re only one person,” she said over her shoulder. “I see them snickering, the other servants.”

  “Perhaps it’s because you’re always grumpy. I know that my own maid, Isobel, told me that you were so lucky to be able to sing like a bird. And she was sad that you weren’t more cheerful.”

  “Easy for her to say.” The nurse’s square back was unyielding.

  Janice walked slowly up to her. “I’m sure it will require courage. But perhaps you could smile more when you’re in the other parts of the house and when you’re here with the dowager. I know she’ll appreciate it, even if the Queen never does.”

  Mrs. Poole turned, her mouth grim. “I’ll think on it.”

  “Good.” Janice smiled. “Now it will take more courage to direct me to the Bath chair. But I assure you that I won’t let the duke fire you. I’ll tell him I found it myself and that you protested mightily when I removed the duchess from her bed.”

  “A scrawny thing like you can’t do that on your own.” There was no heat or insult in the nurse’s voice.

  “Certainly I can,” Janice assured her. “I grew up with three brothers. I swung from trees often. I can lift a sack of potatoes with ease. I’m sure I can get an elderly woman into a Bath chair.”

  “I’ll help you do that, at least,” Mrs. Poole muttered.

  “Will you?” Janice’s heart sped up.

  Mrs. Poole nodded. “I’ll be right back. The chair is down the hall. It hasn’t been used since we moved here a year ago. I lift her off the bed and directly into the tub to bathe her.”

  Poor dowager, she’d been trapped in this bedchamber for far too long!

  While Mrs. Poole was gone, Janice prepared the elderly lady for their outing. “We’re going to take you to a special room,” she said, “with a beautiful view. The windows go from the floor to the ceiling, and you’ll be able to see the gardens covered in snow and, behind them, the beautiful pasture and trees.”

  “My old sitting room,” said the duchess with a bit of wonder.

  Janice’s heart lifted. Her elderly friend seemed excited!

  But then the duchess hesitated and slowly shook her head. “No,” she said. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not ready. I’ll never be ready.”

  “It’s all right,” Janice assured her. “You belong there, Your Grace.”

  “I-I can’t.”

  “You just sit back.” Janice would be confident for her. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of getting you there.”

  The dowager didn’t look at all happy, but she said nothing else.

  Janice realized she’d have to coax her little by little to resume a normal life.

  When the nurse returned, she insisted on putting the fragile old woman in the chair herself. Janice held her breath, but it went quite well. Mrs. Poole tucked a pretty quilt around Her Grace and stood back.

  “There you are.” The nurse was as stiff as ever, but she also looked a bit proud of herself.

  “Thank you so much,” Janice said. “You were very gentle.”

  Mrs. Poole nodded.

  Janice pushed the chair to the door, which Mrs. Poole opened for her.

  “See you in an hour or so,” Janice told her cheerfully.

  Mrs. Poole said nothing as she walked by.

  Out in the hall, Janice felt all the importance of the moment. The dowager was free!

  “How are you?” She smiled as she looked around the chair at the elderly woman.

  But the dowager wouldn’t answer. She was obviously frightened at being out of her room, which made Janice furious at the duke.

  She resumed pushing the chair. “I promise it will be all right. Remember how anxious you were to get out? Well, now it’s happening. You’re going to enjoy yourself.”

  At the turn of the corridor, she suddenly remembered the two flights of stairs she’d have to go down and swallowed back her panic. No doubt she could manage. She was strong as an ox. She’d turn the chair backward and go first, holding the handle in an iron grip. And then she’d gently lower it from step to step.…

  She hoped she wouldn’t jar the duchess too much.

  But what if Her Grace’s bones were brittle and weak?

  Janice paused and swallowed. What if she’d been a complete idiot to ignore the doctor’s advice? And the duke’s orders?

  Breathe, she told herself.

  But the panicked thoughts came at her, a relentless onslaught of doubt.

  You’ve involved this poor old woman.

  You’re prideful.

  Stupid.

  Mama and Daddy would be furious!

  “Lady Janice?” the dowager asked her hopefully. “May we turn around now?”

  “There’s no need, Your Grace.” She did her best to sound merry. “You’ll be fine. We’ll get there soon enough.” Should she simply leave her here, run out to the stables, and get Isobel or Mrs. Friday? Wouldn’t that frighten the duchess, to be left all alone? And what if she did fall asleep again? “I-I only paused because I needed to adjust my shoe.” She said a quick prayer and continued down the hall, the Bath chair rolling smoothly over the carpet.

  She’d do it. On her own. But when they came to the stairs, she couldn’t help it—her eyes welled up. This was going to be extremely difficult. But she couldn’t disappoint the dowager now. Yes, the old lady acted as if she didn’t want to go, but she needed to see that she could thrive outside of that bedchamber. She must see that. Otherwise, she’d continue begging Janice to help her escape.

  Janice’s hands trembled on the handles of the chair. What if she dropped her hostess?

  She inhaled again, another long, slow breath, and decided that she simply wouldn’t drop her. She’d keep Her Grace safe.

  With a deliberate air, Janice turned the chair around, looked behind her, and lowered her own feet to the top stair.

  That’s it.

  She lowered her right foot another step and gave a gentle pull on the chair. At the same time, she lifted with all her might so that the wheel wouldn’t go kerplump.

  There. Her heart pounded furiously. But the duchess was safe on the first step.

  Just, um, ten or fifteen more to go. And then another staircase …

  Refusing to be cowed, Janice gripped the handles, prepared to go one step down again.

  “Wait!”

  She daren’t move, but she glanced upward.

  There stood Mrs. Poole at the top of the stairs.

  Thank God.

  “I’ll take the bottom,” the nurse said. “But come back up here. We’re going to turn the chair sideways and walk down together. Going backward is too difficult.”

  Janice nodded, unable to speak, she was so grateful.

  When all was said and done—and it was a rough few moments descending those stairs—the dowager was safe on the lower floor.

  “Thank you,” Janice told Mrs. Poole, and continued pushing the chair down the corridor.

  “I might as well go with you.” The nurse didn’t smile.

  But on those stairs, they’d formed a partnership.

  Maybe not a friendship, but a partnership was nearly as good.

  They passed two footmen separately, both of whom were goggle-eyed at the sight of the duchess.

  Neither Janice nor Mrs. Poole said a word.

  After the second footman passed, Janice murmured for the nurse’s ears only, “Do you think they’ll say anything to anyone?”

  Mrs. Poole nodded. “They would have even if we’d threatened them not to,” she whispered back.

  “You’re right, I’m sure.” Janice peeked over the edge of the chair. “Are you all right in there, Your Grace?”
/>   “Yes, my dear,” the old woman said softly.

  She wasn’t saying much, but Janice refused to be worried. This was a very big outing. No doubt Her Grace was overwhelmed.

  So it was a triumph—and a relief—when at last Janice and Mrs. Poole turned another corner and rolled the dowager’s chair through a door and into the sitting room she so loved.

  Who knew that her grandson apparently loved it, too?

  Chapter Seventeen

  The duke was standing at one of the windows himself, and when he turned around he wore his usual indifferent expression. But when he saw his grandmother in the Bath chair, all of him—from head to toe—became exactly like one of the icicles that hung from the eaves of the house, one of which, a particularly dangerous one, was visible through the pane of glass.

  A similar state had overcome His Grace two nights ago at dinner when he’d told Janice not to go to the stables. But this was far worse. Her palms were slippery on the handles of the chair. Next to her Mrs. Poole’s breathing became audible—and was clearly labored.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Poole,” Janice assured her in a calm voice while she kept her gaze on the duke. “I take full responsibility for bringing the dowager here. Go sit down, please.”

  Mrs. Poole did just that.

  “Halsey?” The duchess’s voice was weak but hopeful.

  The duke smiled at her, but his eyes were still cold. “Hello, Granny.” He strode over and stood before her, his hands behind his back. “You’re up and about, I see.”

  “I don’t want to be here,” his grandmother said. “Take me back. I told her.…”

  Through the handles of the chair, Janice felt rather than saw the duchess crane herself forward, then fall back—almost an act of desperation.

  “I want to go back to my bedchamber,” said Her Grace. “Please.”

  Suddenly Janice felt as if she were the most horrible person on earth.

  Halsey threw her an accusing glance. “You shouldn’t have ignored my grandmother’s wishes.”

  “But she’s been telling me she wants out of that room,” Janice said. “I was only trying to give her a little holiday. If she could see the view, I’m sure she’d change her mind.” She paused a beat. “Now if you’ll excuse me, please. I’m taking Her Grace to the window.”

  Janice locked gazes with him, and once more she remembered him greeting her when she’d arrived and she’d sensed he’d explored dark things.…

  Several seconds went by. She didn’t blink. But her heart—it was beating so fast, she almost felt dizzy. She inhaled a discreet breath and released it slowly. How long would they have this standoff?

  “You’ll take my grandmother back to her bedchamber, Mrs. Poole,” the duke said in a casual tone. He kept his eyes on Janice. “And this time there won’t be any repercussions. I understand that Lady Janice has her own ideas about what’s good for the dowager duchess. But the doctor wouldn’t approve.”

  Mrs. Poole stood. “Very well, Your Grace.”

  Slowly, she walked over to Janice and reached out a hand to take the chair.

  “No,” Janice told her, but she was looking at the duke. She moved as close as she could to the chair handles to block Mrs. Poole, who, to her credit, didn’t try to wrestle the contraption from her.

  “Pardon, my lady?” the duke said softly.

  “You heard me, Your Grace.” Janice couldn’t back down now. Not when they’d come this far. “I’m here as the dowager’s guest. She shall see the view, and we’ll stay here a good half hour or until she tires, whichever come first.”

  Halsey stood utterly still. “My uncle Everett drowned in the pond behind that copse of trees,” he said quietly, and pointed to his left, to the farthest window.

  Janice’s heart almost juddered to a stop. “W-what?”

  “He drowned, Lady Janice.” His Grace spoke without any emotion, even as the duchess gave a little whimper. “Will you let Mrs. Poole take my grandmother now?”

  Janice nodded her head shakily and stepped aside. “I’m sorry,” she whispered to the dowager, who said nothing back. Her eyes were on her lap, her scalp showing through thinning silver hair.

  Mrs. Poole came up slowly and quietly, fear emanating from her in waves.

  “Take Her Grace to her old bedchamber down the corridor, the third door on the left, please,” the duke ordered her. “She used it when she lived here years ago. But keep her away from the windows.”

  “Yes-s-s-s, Your Grac-c-c-ce.” Mrs. Poole’s whistle was stronger than ever. “I’m s-s-s-so s-s-s-sorry.”

  “I never saw any reason to tell you what I’ve just told Lady Janice about our family history,” Halsey told her. “Dr. Nolan’s orders—and mine—should have been sufficient for you to obey.”

  Mrs. Poole hung her head. “I apologize, Your Grace.”

  “You should be remorseful,” he said, “but I’m also at fault. I see now that I should have been more forthcoming with what is a painful, private matter. You’re an excellent nurse, otherwise. You’ll keep your job.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.” Mrs. Poole’s voice had a little hitch in it.

  Janice’s cheeks prickled with heat. She’d botched things terribly.

  “Ring for tea,” the duke said, “and you’ll all recover yourselves before my grandmother is returned to her preferred bedchamber.”

  Mrs. Poole thanked him again and departed the room.

  Janice felt no comfort being alone with him. Quite the opposite. She was desperate to get away.

  The duke seemed to sense her wish. “No need to fear me, Lady Janice.”

  “I don’t,” she insisted. But she knew part of her did.

  “Further explanation is in order, I believe.”

  “All right,” she said, “but do you mind if I catch my breath a moment?”

  His lips twisted in a cool smile. “I’m not asking you to explain. I want to shed more light on this situation for your benefit.”

  “Oh.” She clutched her skirt.

  “Granny might be addled,” Halsey said, “but even she has her memories. She doesn’t like to be here at Halsey House and has avoided coming here since before I was born. When I moved her over last year from the dower house, it was only because her wits were so far gone that I’d no other choice. She requested to stay in that room in the far wing herself. The doctor utterly supported her decision. As do I.”

  “I had no idea.” Janice’s throat burned with shame. She was a fool. She should have listened to the dowager.

  “I forgive you,” the duke said easily. “Your intentions, I know, were good. But now that you see the whole picture, you’ll understand, I’m sure, why I was so adamant about Granny’s not seeing the view. Or leaving her room.”

  “I do see,” she murmured.

  What he said made perfect sense. Surely they should respect the duchess’s wishes. No doubt Dr. Nolan wouldn’t want her plagued by bad memories, either.

  But what about getting past grief? Should the duchess hide until she died? Shouldn’t she have an opportunity to experience joy again?

  “Your Grace?” Janice swallowed hard.

  “Yes?” His voice had an edge of caution to it.

  “What if the view from her old bedchamber, as it’s on the other side of the house, doesn’t conjure bad memories for your grandmother? The view will encompass only the drive, and in the distance, over the treetops, the spire of the village church.”

  The duke released a sigh. “You don’t know when to quit, do you?”

  Janice bit her lip. “I only want Her Grace to be happy. I promise, I won’t allow her to endure something she can’t bear. But … what if she can?”

  For a moment, all was quiet. Janice waited and wondered if Mama and Daddy would be pleased by her obstinacy—or appalled.

  “Very well,” the duke said eventually. “You may put her before a window in her old bedchamber.”

  Janice smiled. “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  “The only rea
son I’m saying yes,” he said, “is because you’d have tried it anyway, wouldn’t you have, my lady?”

  She must be truthful. “Yes,” she whispered. “I would have.”

  He gave a short laugh. “You’re an interesting sort of woman.”

  She said nothing, and he strode to the door and turned around. “I’ll send two footmen to attend you. Neither you nor Mrs. Poole need lift the chair again.”

  “Please send cheerful footmen, Your Grace,” Janice asked on a whim. “We could all use cheering up.”

  Vague amusement lit his gaze. “As you wish, my lady,” he said.

  And then he left.

  In the bedchamber across the corridor, Janice exchanged a sober glance with Mrs. Poole. “I’m so sorry,” she said, a catch in her voice.

  “It’s all right.” Mrs. Poole heaved a sigh. “You meant well.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Poole.”

  “It was frightening there for a moment.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  The tea came in right behind Janice, and for a good ten minutes they allowed the ritual of pouring, stirring, and sipping the hot brew to calm their nerves. The stress of their encounter with the duke—and near miss with upsetting the dowager—had rattled both Janice and the nurse. As for Her Grace, she was subdued—almost oblivious, it seemed, to their presence and small talk. But at least she had the appetite to finish two biscuits and a cup of tea.

  Finally, Janice set aside her own cup and told Mrs. Poole what the duke had given her permission to do.

  “Are you sure?” Mrs. Poole’s eyes flooded with doubt. “We’ve already been through so much.”

  “I agree,” said Janice. “But we can’t let this opportunity go by. What if it makes her happy?”

  “It might make her sad.”

  “I know.” Janice cast a glance at the old woman. “But it’s worth the risk. If it works, Her Grace may have a life again.”

  “Go ahead, then.” Mrs. Poole’s tone was skeptical.

  Even so, Janice steered the dowager to the window, sure that she was doing the right thing. “Look, Your Grace, beyond the trees … it’s Bramblewood’s church spire.”