The Reluctant Duchess

by Winchester, Catherine

  “I’ve come to light a fire Lady Wyatt.”

  “Come in,” she said, ducking back inside.

  She finished by washing her hair, then found a comb to pick the tangles through but when she had finished, the maid still hadn’t left.

  “I say, excuse me?” she called, starting to feel a little chill.

  “Yes?” the maid replied.

  “You couldn’t hand me the nightclothes on the bed could you?”

  “Of course, Ma’am.”

  Seconds later there was a gentle tap on the door and using the towel to preserve her modesty, she opened the door and accepted the clothes.

  “Thank you.”

  The maid kept her eyes down, curtseyed and quickly turned away.

  Annabelle dressed quickly in the nightgown, robe and slippers, then made her way out of the dressing room. She wouldn’t normally feel comfortable roaming someone else’s home in her nightclothes but she wanted to check for herself if Richard was all right. She waited outside Richard’s room as instructed but she was a bundle of nervous energy, so she began to pace.

  Finally Lavinia joined her and enveloped her in a big hug.

  “Thank you, my dear girl.”

  “I didn’t do anything, really. Sampson thought to ask a fireman where he was, and he found the horse.”

  “Nonsense, from the state of your clothes and your cough, I would say that you did quite a bit and put yourself in a fair amount of danger.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” she admitted.

  “I remember that feeling.” Lavinia smiled. She pulled away and fished something out of her robe pocket, handing it to Annabelle, who looked down to see that it was a key.

  “What is-?”

  “The key to Richards’s side of the dressing room,” she said quietly.

  “But-”

  “I trust you not to do anything that could harm his recovery and I’m sure that he would appreciate your company.

  The door to Richards’s room opened before Annabelle could reply, so she quickly pocketed the key. They went in to see Richard looking clean and resting on his bed in his night clothes. They had built up a mountain of pillows behind him so that he was sitting almost upright.

  “How do you feel darling?” Lavinia asked.

  “Better” he croaked, but his breathing was still laboured and just that one word caused a painful coughing fit. His eyes were also hooded, meaning that the laudanum was probably making him drowsy.

  “Are you hungry? She asked.

  He shook his head.

  “Then how about a whiskey before bed?”

  Again he shook his head.

  Lavinia turned to Annabelle. “What about you dear, is there anything you want?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The butler and footman left and Lavinia sat on the edge of her son’s bed. “Are you feeling tired?”

  Again he nodded.

  “Then I shall let you get to sleep. Good night, darling.” She stood up. “You must be tired too,” she observed.

  Annabelle realised that she did feel tired. “What time is it?”

  “Just gone eleven.”

  “That late?” She had no idea that so much time had passed. “Yes, I should go to bed too.”

  Lavinia kissed her son’s forehead. “I’ll make sure that the staff doesn’t disturb you unless you call them,” she assured him and although he looked puzzled by the declaration, he didn’t ask what she meant for fear of starting another bout of coughing.

  Realisation dawned a few minutes later, as he heard the lock turn in the door to the dressing room. He smiled at her, even though he looked just about ready to collapse on his feet, his eyes were so hooded. Nevertheless, he managed to move sideways on the pillow mountain and patted the space beside him.

  She slipped into bed beside him, gave him a chaste kiss on the lips, and then settled onto the pillows next to him. He wasn’t having that though, and put his arm around her and pulled her against him. She acquiesced without a fight and cuddled into his side, although she was careful to rest her head on his upper arm rather than his chest or shoulder.

  She lay awake for a long while, listening to his wheezing breaths. He seemed to be breathing a little more evenly now but she was still worried about him. Finally though, her exhaustion overwhelmed her and she drifted off to sleep.

  It was a fitful night’s sleep for both of them, as Richard’s frequent coughing fits repeatedly woke them up. She gave him a little more laudanum at around 3 am, worried that he wouldn’t get any sleep if he didn’t take it and although he originally shook his head, she talked him into the second dose.

  He slept a little better after that, coughing less, although the ragged sound of his breathing didn’t improve.

  When Annabelle awoke the next morning, she was shocked to realise that his breathing seemed to have worsened and although resting, his breaths were short and shallow. He wasn’t quite panting but it wouldn’t take much to describe it as that.

  Thinking little for decorum, she got out of bed and rang the bell for the servants. Moments later James came into the room.

  “Send for Dr Medway,” she told him and the urgency in her tone sent him running off.

  Annabelle sat on the edge of the bed and smoothed the hair from his forehead. He finally opened his eyes although, seeming to realise that his condition had worsened, he didn’t smile as he saw her. The laudanum was also still affecting him and he seemed slightly dazed.

  “The doctor’s coming,” she tried to reassure him. “How do you feel?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  “Do you want some more laudanum?”

  He shook his head, then began another coughing fit. This one lasted quite a while and left him even more breathless.

  Lavinia came rushing in a moment later, still in her night clothes and quickly took in the situation. They had little choice then but to wait for Dr Medway to arrive. Finally he came into the room and Lavinia and Annabelle stood back, so that he could attend to Richard.

  He took Richard’s pulse, placed something that looked rather like an ear trumpet to his chest and listened, then felt his neck. Next he told Richard to open his mouth and using an oil lamp, looked inside.

  “This is not unexpected,” Dr Medway said calmly. “You inhaled hot smoke which has irritated your lungs and caused some minor burns, both of which are causing swelling. It may even get a little worse over the next day or two but after that, your breathing should start to ease as you begin to heal.”

  “Will I… recover?” Richard asked between breaths, although he managed to supress the urge to cough.

  “The burns don’t look too severe so hopefully the damage is reversible, although it could take weeks, or even months before you are as good as new. For now just rest, kept taking the laudanum and try not to cough too much.”

  Richard nodded.

  “What about food and drink?” Annabelle asked.

  “His throat is burned so eating will be painful for a while but he should try to eat. Cold foods are best, liquids if you can or soft food, such as mashed potatoes or scrambled eggs, though be careful that they aren’t too hot. Ice cream is especially soothing, so I’m told.”

  “Is there nothing else we can do?” Annabelle asked.

  “I’m afraid not,” he said kindly as he turned to her. “Rest is the only cure.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” Lavinia said and showed him out.

  Annabelle sat back on the bed as they were alone again. “I’m sorry; this must be very difficult for you.”

  He smiled and shrugged.

  “Would you like a pencil and paper?” she asked.

  “I can talk,” he croaked.

  “It just hurts?”

  He nodded. “Coffee house?” he asked.

  Annabelle’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh my gosh! I have to arrange someone to cover for me. I wonder if Ruth would? She can just make extra stew for dinner, although Sal and Jones would have to fend for them
selves at lunch, unless Frank would drop some of the lunch stew off with the deliveries. Oh but there is an order for a choux pastry; Ruth has never tried anything like that.”

  She bit her lip as she considered her options but she could see no way around it.

  “Well, it’s just one order, I can afford to lose that and will just have to hope that they accept my apologies. What time is it?”

  Richard pointed to a chest of drawers, on top of which sat his pocket watch. He was pleased to note that she wasn’t even considering going to work and that for once, he came before her beloved coffee house.

  “Half past eight!” she exclaimed. “Oh lord, they will be there already. I suppose I could send a note telling them to close until further notice; that might be easiest.”

  Lavinia came back in. “If it is the coffee house you are fretting over, my dear, you needn’t worry,” she assured Annabelle. “I sent Peter over to your house last night, to inform them that you wouldn’t be available for a few days and to come here if they needed any assistance. They assured him that they would cover for you and make sure that business continued as usual.”

  “Oh, thank you, Lavinia.” Annabelle gave a relieved sigh.

  “You are very welcome. In the interests of decorum, I suggest that we both get dressed now, I have laid a dress out for you on your bed; then we will decide how to best keep Richard occupied during his confinement.”

  “I can hear you… you know... mother.” His declaration caused another bout of coughing.

  “Of course you can, Richard, and do try not to exert yourself. Now, come on, Annabelle; we’ll be back soon, darling”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Richard was still taking laudanum at regular intervals and slept a lot that first day, which was probably best for him. When he was awake, Annabelle first read the paper to him, which was full of details about the fire.

  “At half-past five in the evening, everything was quiet at Westminster Palace yet within a short hour, the interior of the House of Lords was filled with flame, casting its bright glare for miles around the city.

  The flames, which first showed themselves at half-past six o'clock on Thursday the October 16th, quickly consumed the House of Lords and spread to neighbouring buildings. Though details are few, it is thought the fire was caused by the burning of old tally sticks from the Exchequer.

  By half-past seven o'clock the engines were brought to play upon the building, both from the river and the land side, but the flames had by this time acquired such a predominance that the quantity of water thrown upon them produced no visible effect.

  In less than an hour the entire roof of the House of Lords had fallen in. The firemen now abandoned all hopes of saving any part of this portion of the building, and their efforts were wholly directed towards the House of Commons, and the preservation of Westminster Hall…”

  When she had finished with the newspaper, Annabelle moved onto the novel that Richard was currently reading, The Last Days of Pompeii by Edward Bulwer-Lytton. She was sorry to be coming to the story part way through as she was enjoying it, so when he dozed off, she went back to the beginning and read silently.

  She often heard people at the front door first day but they weren’t allowed to see Richard until talking was easier for him. The butler explained a little of his injuries to them all and advised each caller to try again next week.

  The cook made two portions of ice cream for him that day as although it was a labour intensive process, it was the most soothing to Richard’s burned throat. She had known Richard since he was a boy and always liked him, so she didn’t mind the extra work. In recognition of the trouble she was going to, Lavinia and Annabelle had sandwiches for lunch and cold game pie and salad for dinner, both prepared by Lavinia herself. Well, she didn’t actually make the pie but she did serve it.

  That evening, since Richard’s throat was particularly painful, Annabelle watered down some laudanum in cordial and made him gargle with it, which eased a lot of his discomfort. The doses of laudanum also reduced his coughing episodes, although it far from eliminated them.

  He was worse by the evening than he had been that morning, but Annabelle and Lavinia put brave faces on and continued as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

  The coffee house staff stopped by the house on their way home that night and assured Annabelle that they were fine and would cover for her for as long as she needed. They had even fulfilled the choux pastry order, having asked the baker next door to make the pastry as a special favour, using Annabelle’s recipe. Annabelle felt easier after seeing them but in truth, she would have closed it rather than leave Richard at the moment.

  He was doing his best to be brave but she could tell that he was in a lot of pain and discomfort. She could also see the fear in his eyes as well, fear that soon he would be unable to breathe at all. He had explained briefly that it felt as though his lungs were closing up, or filling up, and that he sometimes felt that soon he wouldn’t be able to take any breath at all.

  That night she went into her own room for bed, then came through to his and lay down beside him. She stayed awake much longer tonight, just listening to him struggle to breathe.

  “I’m sorry I said I wasn’t ready to marry you,” she said softly. She didn’t know if he was still awake or not but she had to say it. “I was just silly and scared. Sometimes I think that my most prevalent emotion is fear. Fear of not being able to support us all, fear of my reputation being spoiled, fear of Frederick. You made me feel brave for the first time in… well, probably ever and I repaid you with mistrust. I’m so sorry, Richard.”

  He gave no indication that he had heard her so by the time she had finished, she was almost certain that he was asleep, until he bent the arm she was leaning on and stroked her hair.

  “I love… you.”

  “I love you too, darling.”

  Richard appeared slightly better the next day but Annabelle didn’t dare get her hopes up too much yet. The day passed in much the same way as the one before it, except that today she also had some letters to read to him, that yesterday’s callers had sent. Many of them were from eligible young women, or mentioned a daughter who wished him a speedy recovery.

  He also ate some scrambled eggs, after gargling with the laudanum, although ice cream still made up the majority of his food intake.

  By the following day, she was certain that he was getting better but his coughing fits still struck fear into her heart. He also insisted on cutting back the laudanum doses, as he disliked the way it made him feel.

  The day after that, the Sunday, he insisted on going downstairs, although he dressed only in his nightclothes and a robe. He was as feeble as an invalid but he slowly made his way to his mother’s sitting room, where he remained for the rest of the day. He refused all but a few drops of laudanum, though he took a full dose before bed, which both Lavinia and Annabelle insisted on, then he allow the servants to carry him to upstairs.

  His breathing actually seemed easier now that he was sitting in a chair rather than propped up in bed. Annabelle still read to him but more because he liked the sound of her voice, than because he couldn’t read for himself.

  No one called for him today, probably because it was a Sunday but he knew that from tomorrow, he would have to accept callers. So he made the most of today, enjoying every last second of Annabelle’s company.

  He wanted to bring up her confession of a few nights ago, but he still felt too weak to discuss any long term plans. The whole memory was fuzzy, but he was sure that she had said words to the effect of ‘I’m sorry I didn’t agree to marry you’. He just hoped that she didn’t change her mind in the near future, so that he would get a proper opportunity to ask her to marry him again.

  That evening in bed his hands began to wander, even although he knew that he didn’t have the stamina just now to make love to her. Worried about what it could do to his health, Annabelle stopped him and when he complained, she lavished attention on him, insisting that h
e lay still whilst she took the evidence of his arousal in her mouth and pleasured him. He became excited but with the help of his nightly dose of laudanum, he was able to suppress his cough until she had finished.

  “Thank you,” he said as pulled her against him, once his coughing fit had passed.

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, honestly.”

  “I’ll make love to you properly when you’re feeling better.” She assured him.

  “Don’t tempt me,” he said, although he was only half teasing. “I’m going to miss waking up with you.”

  “Me too,” Annabelle admitted. “But maybe it won’t be too long before we can wake up together every day.”

  “I hope so.” He smiled and turned to kiss the crown of her head.

  On Monday he got dressed, although he forewent the waistcoat and cravat. Dr Medway came to see him that morning and was pleased with his progress.

  His throat now only hurt when he ate solid food and he could talk with only a little discomfort. His breathing was also easier, although still much shallower than normal.

  They spent the morning in his mother’s sitting room again then in the afternoon, Richard moved into the front parlour to greet any callers. Claiming that he must be sick of the both of them, Lavinia went to her daughter’s for the afternoon. Annabelle excused herself and went to the coffee house to check on things, although mainly she just didn’t want to be there whilst Richard greeted a myriad of wealthy, eligible, single young women.

  Lavinia insisted on walking to her daughter’s house, which was just two streets away, leaving the carriage for Annabelle. Despite her protests, Lavinia was adamant, insisting that she wanted to enjoy the last of the sun before winter set in.

  As Annabelle climbed into the carriage, she saw that Sampson was already waiting for her.

  “How’s he doing?” Sampson asked as he helped her inside.

  “Better,” she assured him. “I haven’t had an opportunity to say anything before, but thank you for your help that night. I don’t know where I would have found a horse.”