by Wendy Vella
Catherine shrugged. “It’s not so bad. I guess I have not known any different, so it is easier for me than it is for you. Aunty takes some getting used to, though. I would have asked my father for another duenna, but she is, after all, his sister. I couldn’t hurt her feelings.”
“You are far too soft-hearted. Lady Babbage is the worst of her kind. She would, if she could, create a shrine for her needles and pray before it. All she ever does is sew and expects us to do the same. She refuses to venture out, and that is simply not fair to you. How are you meant to socialise if she keeps you cooped up indoors? It’s unfortunate enough that the Duke would not let you come out until you are twenty. Twenty is too late. I think . . . I think he is afraid you will marry and leave him alone. His love for you is suffocating.”
Catherine turned and started walking back. She slipped an arm through Emma’s to show she was not angry. “I don’t think I will have trouble finding a man when I do come out,” she said smiling.
“The Duke’s daughter and beautiful,” Emma nodded. “I, for one, am glad you stayed hidden away in the country. One look at you and the Earl would have never looked at me twice.”
“I think my finding a man will depend more on my status rather than my looks. It will be an arranged marriage, and I don’t think father will have it any other way.”
“You underestimate yourself. You always have. You will be the diamond of the first water, mark my words. I, for one, wish I had your golden hair and bright blue eyes.”
“While I wish I had your dark curls and witchy green eyes,” replied Catherine grinning.
The mansion loomed up ahead. It was a dark, forbidding structure that rambled and stretched as far as the eye could see. The deep grey stone walls did not look so ominous in the daylight, but Emma was aware that within a few hours, when the sun started sinking, it would be swathed in shadows. At night, the long carpeted hallways would fail to muffle the creaks of aged floorboards, and certain doors would grate as they were opened. As soon as October set in, the house would truly shudder and creak. The wind wailing and banging on the windows would find an open crack and whistle through the house like a banshee.
Emma silently thanked the bright sun for diminishing her childish fears.
They made their way inside and had just enough time to change out of their walking clothes before the bell was rung.
Emma entered the family room and found everyone seated in their usual places.
Lady Babbage sat in the far corner almost hidden by the curtains. She seemed to fade into the background, and one often forgot when she was in the room. She never said anything witty, and her chatter was so monotonous that people, in general, avoided saying more than two words to her.
She sat knitting something blue, wearing a brown dress that blended into the deep gold brocade curtains behind her. Her beady eyes blinked as she peered at Emma. Her round face broke into a smile, and she nodded enthusiastically.
Emma returned the smile and quickly turned away. She made her way towards the Duchess and Catherine, who sat together on the long sofa.
The room was richly decorated like the entire Arden Manor. Someone not used to luxury would find the room intimidating. Emma had spent a lot of time growing up on the estate, so for her it was just the family room. The expensive fabrics and artworks were never given a second thought.
“My dear, I must tell you what my father told me last night,” the Duchess said, as soon as Emma seated herself.
Emma exchanged a look with Catherine and then turned a mildly curious face towards the Lady.
‘‘He said we were all in danger, my dear. Yes, grave danger. He warned me to tell you especially, Emma. He thinks your plans are foolish and will lead to great peril.”
Emma stared at her uneasily.
The Duke had married the Duchess ten years ago. She was twenty years his junior. Catherine had just turned five when his first wife died in an accident. She had fallen from her horse and broken her neck. It could be why the Duke was so protective of his daughter, barely allowing her out of his sight. It was a good thing Catherine enjoyed reading more than conversing with people.
The new Duchess still retained her youthful beauty. Her hair was jet black and her eyes jade green, tilting up at the corners. Her figure was tall and seductive, and it was no surprise the Duke had married her.
However, after a year of marriage, everyone in the household realised something was not quite right about the new Duchess. To put it plainly, her upper story was missing crucial bits. She was absent-minded, and when she spoke, she said the strangest things. For instance, her receiving a warning from her father was decidedly odd.
Emma shivered as she stared into the Duchess’ deep green eyes. The thing was that the Duchess’ father had been dead for years.
Yet her talk of plans being foiled made Emma nervous. She was normally not superstitious, and her aunt had often spoken of omens and signs that she ignored. This time she felt agitated. The words had been too close to home for comfort.
The Duke entered the room, giving them the needed diversion.
Emma had been at a loss as to how to reply to her aunt. She gratefully turned in her seat as he came up to them.
He dropped a kiss on all the heads present.
The Duke, in spite of being in his late sixties, was a tall, virile looking man. His back was perpetually straight, and he held his head with an arrogant tilt. His salt and pepper hair added to his distinguished appearance that cowed many lily-livered men.
“Your mother should have reached London today, Emma. I am sure you will hear from her soon.”
“Yes, uncle, she had to return to push back the wedding preparations.” Emma looked at him hopefully. She needed a chance to argue her case. A year was simply too long to wait.
“Good, good, I am sure she will have everything organised properly,” he replied, quickly turning away from her.
There went her chance. The Duke seemed to guess her train of thought and never allowed even an inch for her to begin stating her case. He will now change the topic, she thought bitterly.
She was proved right when the Duke, after accepting a cup of tea and a slice of rich fruit cake from the Duchess, said, “I have some news. I have some old friends coming to stay. Sir Henry Barker, his wife, and their daughter Prudence. I am sure both of you will enjoy having a young lady around the house. While you, my dear, can spend some time with your bosom friend, Mrs Barker. I know how fond you are of her.”
The Duchess winced, but the expression of distaste was quickly changed to delight.
Emma was sympathetic. The last thing they would enjoy was to have Prudence amongst them.
Prudence was as flighty as they came. Her only topic of conversation consisted of the number of conquests she had made. She was a year younger yet had been out from the age of sixteen. It was no surprise she was still unmarried. The moment she opened her mouth, it sounded like a thousand nails scratching against steel. Her mother was an older version of her, though age had not dampened her enthusiasm.
Catherine was the only one whose smile was genuine. She prettily thanked her father for the news and set about making plans for their entertainment.
Catherine would not have looked out of place with a halo around her head, thought Emma irritably.
They finished their tea leisurely. Thereafter, the Duchess retired to rest in her room, and Lady Babbage followed her. The Duke left for his study while Catherine and Emma settled down for a good gossip.
Catherine caught Emma’s hand and said eagerly, “I haven’t been able to speak to you alone as your mother was here. Now that I have you all to myself, you must tell me what the Earl is like.”
“Handsome, rich, and an Earl.” Emma smirked “Got him from right under Miss Clearwater’s nose.”
“Do you love him?”
“Very much.”
“Have you told him that you love him?”
“No, he never asked.”
“But has he told you
he loves you?”
Emma frowned and then said slowly, “He has not, but he does not need to say the words. He behaves as if he does.”
“Are you sure he loves you? Forgive me, but Rosy, our downstairs maid, had been convinced that our stablehand adored her until she found him splashing about in a pond with the upstairs maid. I want you to marry for love. You deserve to marry for love, and if he hasn’t told you, then how can you be certain?”
Emma thought of the Earl in his shabby clothes sleeping in the servant’s quarters and smiled a secret smile.
“I am certain. One just knows these things, Cat. You will, too, when your time comes. Sometimes actions show a lot more than words can tell.”
“Well, then, I am truly happy for you.”
“You have another question. It’s perched on your tongue. Out with it, Cat, I know you too well. You can hide your thoughts from others but not from me.”
“Fine then, here is what I truly want to know. Has he kissed you?”
Emma grinned and replied, “Many times.”
“Many times? But is that allowed?”
“No, but we still did,” said Emma laughing.
“I have never been kissed.”
“I know. I think everyone knows. You look untouched, I don’t know what man will be brave enough to breach that innocence. Yet I know you are warm, loving and loyal. I am sure you will find a worthy man. If nothing else, the Duke will make sure of it.”
Catherine reached over and hugged Emma affectionately.
“Seeing you so happy, I do want to fall in love . . . Now, I really should practice the piano if I am to catch the right man. I hope to enthral him with my accomplishments if nothing else. I have neglected it shamefully, and I am sure so have you. With my coming out next year, I have to win the ton over with more than just my status.”
“Still so modest. Fine, I shall hear you play, and after listening to dozens of women throughout the season who sounded like shrieking cats, your skill will be a pleasure to hear.”
They spent their time together just as they had countless times before. Each comfortable in the other’s company, though Emma wished she could truly confide in her cousin and discuss all the wonderful feelings the Earl aroused in her. For once she knew her cousin would not understand, and she hated keeping anything from her.
She hoped Catherine would find someone to love so the gap that had sprung up between them could be closed for good.
***
“Did anyone see you on the way?” Richard asked, looking around the garden.
“No, and don’t worry. I doubt they would even care that I am talking to a gardener old enough to be my grandfather. I can pretend I am learning the secrets of plants and flowers to please my future husband. A new hobby for the Earl’s future wife to have . . . and I still refuse to kiss you . . . You smell.”
“How charming. I always enjoy your delightful compliments.”
“I feel like I haven’t met you since you have donned this disguise. I keep looking for the Earl I know behind that theatrical getup.”
“I agree, Em, we need to find a way to meet. The gardens are too risky. They are large, but even though you feel hidden, you never know who else is hiding and watching you. It is like the trees are not only hiding us from others, but they could be hiding others from us . . . Dash it, I am making no sense whatsoever.”
“I think I understand. I will have to think of a way to meet you some place where you do not have to disguise yourself. Tell me, how is it living amongst the servants?”
“Pickering is a nightmare. That is the butler. He rules the house, and the housekeeper is having a torrid affair with him. She does all he says. I mean, the man looks as if he is made of stone. The other day I walked by the scullery maid, who had the audacity to pinch my bottom, and Pickering saw the entire thing and not an expression crossed his face, while I was decidedly outraged.”
“Was she pretty?”
“Who?”
“The scullery maid.”
The Earl thought about it and said slowly,” Yes, she is actually. Her name is Maria, and I was a bit surprised she was paying any attention to an old man like me.”
“You are not old.”
“Yes, but she does not know that.”
“Hmmph, you seemed to be having fun.”
The Earl glanced at her face and then asked in an amused tone, “Why in the world are you angry, Em?”
Emma stalked off towards the rose garden.
The Earl forgot to hobble as he almost ran to catch up with her.
“Are you jealous, Em?”
Emma glared at the laughing Earl.
“I have no reason to be jealous.”
“You know what it means when one is jealous, don’t you?”
“I am sure you will tell me, though I repeat, I am not jealous.”
“You doth protest too much, and your face gives you away.”
“Oh, do go away!”
“Not before I tell you what I think. I think your jealousy means that you — ”
“Is anything the matter, Emma?” came the Duke’s voice.
Emma almost screamed aloud. She quickly scanned her surroundings.
The Duke was standing a few feet away. Thankfully, he was too far to have heard their whispered conversation.
“Careful,” the Earl hissed, snapping her out of her distress.
Emma said the first thing that popped into her head. “I was just discussing roses with the gardener here, uncle.”
“You looked angry. Was he bothering you?”
“Oh, no, I was just wondering about black roses. The gardener said there were no such things, while I was telling him that I saw some at the last funeral I went to. It’s all the rage in London . . . at funerals,” she finished lamely.
The Duke turned and surveyed the gardener.
The Earl had surreptitiously stooped once more to give the illusion of an aged man.
“How do you account for a black rose being seen by Emma if you insist there are none to be found?”
The Earl heard the threat in the Duke’s voice. He could not deny having argued with Emma, while he could not suddenly agree with her either. The Duke would not like it if he called Emma a liar. He spoke in a rush. “A rose is a woody perennial within the family Rosaceae. The name comes from the Latin root, Rosa. In nature, the colour of roses always ranges from white to dark red and at times yellow. What Miss may have seen was a rose that had been cut and placed in a jar of water mixed with black ink. The result would be a rose stained black. It could also have been dabbed with black paint.”
The moment he finished speaking, he knew he had made a big mistake. The stress of the Duke almost catching them red handed had made him babble nervously. He felt as if he were once again standing in front of his botany professor. His carefully acquired accent had faded away to reveal a more polished one.
The Duke tilted his head and raked a glance over the Earl. After what seemed an age, he drawled, “What is your name? You seem well read for a gardener.”
“Shufflebottom, Your Grace. My previous master, who has now long departed this world, had taken me under his wing when I was a mere lad, and he taught me to read and write a little. I could have become a clerk or some such, but I always loved gardening, and he encouraged my passion. I had no inclination towards improving my education as I was hopeless in every other subject. All I cared about was plants. In fact, my current master sent me this way because I became melancholy in London. The city is very dark, and I missed the green — ”
“I see, and you were the one recommended to me by Lord Grey?”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Who did you work for before?”
“Lord Hamilton”
“The one currently engaged to Emma?”
“Yes, Sir.”
This entire conversation felt more suspicious than the Earl would have liked. He had played the entire scene more than once in his head. The ending and, for that matter, t
he beginning had always been more satisfactory. He was sure the Duke was aware that he was a fraud.
The Duke’s eyes stayed on his face a little too long before he turned away.
“Emma, walk with me.”
Emma glanced at the Earl nervously and then followed the Duke. She could do nothing else.
“Emma, have you seen that gardener before?”
Emma took a moment to answer. “Uncle, I . . . that is, mother and I had visited the Earl at his home in London. He had been entertaining his sister at the time, and I had noticed the gardener. I did not recall him until he mentioned working for the Earl just now.”
“I see. Why were you walking about alone?”
“I woke early, and sometimes I like to walk before breakfast. My maid felt out of sorts, so I let her sleep. I did not have the heart to disturb Lady Babbage.”
“Next time, Emma, stay indoors unless you have a suitable chaperone.”
“Yes, uncle,” she replied quietly.
He could have been extremely angry, but his mind seemed preoccupied. She wondered uneasily if the Earl had made him suspicious. The Duke would have to investigate now, and that meant she would have to go through his letters and make sure the Earl’s secret stayed safe.
Emma silently cursed the Earl and his foolish babbling. It was hard to hide his upbringing, and he had not had enough time to prepare his accent. Still, this was his own foolish plan to begin with.
Oh! Why did he have to spout Latin now of all times?
Chapter Six
“You seem disturbed, my dear, is anything the matter?”
Emma looked at Lady Babbage in surprise. She had never expected the woman to be so perceptive. Even Catherine was unaware of the turmoil raging inside her.
She was worried about the Earl, and she was sure the Duke would start his investigations soon. She would have to steal into his study and go over his letters. She could not afford to have the Duke delving into the head gardener’s background by writing to Bow Street Runners or private investigators.
Her father’s denials of sending a gardener could no longer be waived off either. Richard would receive any correspondence written to him, but the entire scene of the morning might prompt the Duke not to trust him.