Passion Regency Style

by Wendy Vella

  Emma thought Mr Barker was secretly hoping that the Duke would take his wife off his hands.

  Everyone retired to their rooms feeling dissatisfied and troubled.

  Emma once again got ready to steal into the Duke’s study. She was disappointed that the Earl didn’t join her. She repeated the process of the night before and didn’t find a single letter mentioning the gardener. Surprised, she turned in for the night. She knew the Duke had not forgotten. She would have to continue her nightly investigations.

  ***

  “I have a wonderful plan.”

  Emma groaned. In spite of the Duke’s suspicions, she had still sought the Earl out and once again stood by a flower bed. Catherine and Prudence were seated on a stone bench not far away. This gave her considerable more time with the Earl.

  “I do not like your plans,” Emma objected.

  “It’s just a tweak in the already existing plan,” the Earl coaxed.

  “What is it?” she asked worriedly

  “You are going to romance the gardener.”

  “Have your wits been addled? Have you inhaled the fumes of some odd fertilizer that is turning your brain into flea-mint?”

  “Think about it, Em, if the Duke sees you spending a lot of time with an old man like me, then he may want to speed up this entire marriage issue.”

  “He would never believe that I am having an affair with a commoner old enough to be my father.”

  “A lot of women like older men, and how is he to know what your taste runs to? It would make him sit up and take another look at this entire delaying the wedding situation. I mean, if you are falling all over yourself for an ancient gap-toothed man, then a year is a long time for you to fall for any sort and slip up.”

  “He would never believe it. It is too absurd.”

  “He is already suspicious. We have been acting like we have been caught doing something naughty every time he has met us, and that has already laid down the groundwork. All you have to do is meet me more blatantly and talk about me a lot more. Throw in how wonderful I am and how much I know of leaves and roots during dinner or something.”

  “I cannot do that! No one would believe it, and I can’t have them thinking I am some sort of blatant hussy!”

  The Earl chuckled, “Fine, do not mention me, but do not run away either the next time the Duke catches us.” He caught her hand and added slyly, “It is not as if you are trying to keep away from me in any case.”

  Emma had no reply to that, so with a short nod, she reluctantly agreed. Then she changed the subject and told him about her investigations and Mrs Barkers behaviour.

  The Earl was thoughtful. “I am not surprised that some woman is throwing herself at him. He is, after all, a Duke, and it is well known that his wife is mad. As far as I am aware he has no mistress, and Mrs Barker may be looking to fill that role. Mr Barker sounds like he doesn’t really care what she does. So stop worrying. The Duke is old enough to choose his own diversions. As for him having still not written to your father or to me . . . it is odd.”

  “I think he will write today. Will you be able to get away?”

  “I will do my best to try and meet you in your rooms tonight.”

  Catherine called out that moment to say they were returning indoors.

  Emma quickly brushed off her muddy skirt as best as she could and made her way towards the manor. At the entrance, she encountered the Duke, who eyed the dirt on her skirt with pursed lips.

  Whether she wanted to or not, the Duke, it seemed, was drawing the exact conclusions the Earl wanted him to draw. Emma walked away wanting to half laugh and half cry.

  Chapter Ten

  The Earl met her that night, and Emma greeted him in relief. Her aunt’s vivid imagination was hard to laugh off when the manor was plunged in darkness and every tiny sound amplified. She had been afraid of running into the Duchess’ spirit friends.

  They went about the business quickly, the Earl too impatient to even steal a kiss.

  Emma pounced on the first letter that lay on the table. It was addressed to her father. She quickly took it off the tray and unsealed it. Sure enough, it requested details of the head gardener that Lord Hamilton had recommended.

  Emma pocketed it, intending to reply herself, and then ask the Earl’s valet to send it to London. It would then be posted back to the Duke so that it had the London mark on the envelope. It would delay the letter, but that could be blamed on the post.

  Next they found another envelope marked to Lord Hamilton. They left that alone, as it would reach the Earl’s London home and then be forwarded to his valet. The Earl could reply to that when it reached him. There was nothing else of significance, and they retired to their respective rooms, with Emma only receiving a half-hearted kiss.

  The Earl was preoccupied with wondering how he could speed up the entire plan. The weeks seemed to stretch before him, and he wanted to get this entire thing over with as soon as possible. He had not had a single night’s good rest. He was getting impatient, and it hadn’t even been a week yet.

  ***

  The next day Emma woke up feeling miserable. She wanted to speak to the Earl but was in no mood to search the grounds for him. Therefore, she cornered Pickering and inquired as to the whereabouts of the head gardener.

  Pickering paused briefly, an expression of surprise almost crossing his face, before he calmly replied that the man in question was in the Night Garden. Emma thanked him and quickly set off in that direction. She found the Earl seated on the edge of a marble fountain.

  “Good evening, I did not expect to see you until tonight. Has something happened?” the Earl asked.

  “Yes, no, I mean nothing has happened as such, but something has been worrying me, and I wanted to talk to you.”

  He patted the seat next to himself and Emma sat down.

  “Does it not bother you to be going through the Duke’s papers? I find it deceitful and do not like it at all.”

  The Earl did not smile but instead said reflectively, “It is not honourable, but we never go through any of the letters addressed to his estate manager, close family friends, or even the Duchess’ physician. You know most of the people that the Duke corresponds with, and you make sure to read only the first few lines of any letter written to anyone you have not previously heard of.”

  The Earl paused to pull out a package wrapped in brown paper. He undid the strings and offered it to Emma.

  She found the paper full of berries. She chose one carefully before saying, “I do try, but something like that letter to Nutters was so personal. I don’t think it is right that we were privy to it. Reading letters written to my father is a different matter, since he has always allowed me to deal with such things.”

  “We mean no harm and our intentions are, if not good, then only mischievous. Don’t worry about it so much. I will meet you tonight as usual, and we will try to be more careful and not read more than necessary. He may still write to Nutters, and we need to make sure that letter does not reach its destination.”

  “I wish . . . ”

  “What is it?”

  “I wish I could spend more time with you. Our stolen moments together do not feel like enough.”

  He glanced at her wistful face and felt an answering pang of longing. “Why don’t you wear an old frock tomorrow, one you don’t mind getting dirty, and carry a pair of garden gloves? Ask Lady Babbage for permission and join me in the garden. Tell her you want to learn something about growing flowers since you intend to have a patch of your own once you are married.”

  “We can spend the day together, and if Lady Babbage wants, she can sit on a bench and keep watch over me. The Duke cannot complain,” said Emma delighted.

  “So I take it that you will join me?”

  “Yes, I will,” she promised, considerably cheered.

  ***

  Mrs Barker was silent that evening. She snapped at Lady Babbage more than once, and Prudence looked bored.

  Catherine suggeste
d a game of cards to improve tempers, and the women quickly agreed. No one was in a mood to converse, and the competitive game improved their spirits somewhat.

  The Duchess won every round, which came as no surprise. The woman had the devil’s own luck in cards. Her grace declared it was her dear departed father who always aided her.

  Emma, having lost all her pennies, silently agreed that her aunt’s good luck was uncanny, unless she cheated, but that thought was laughable in itself. The Duchess could not possibly know how to cheat at cards, nor did she have the patience or the presence of mind to use sleight of hand.

  They all retired to bed early that evening. Things were getting dull in the house.

  Emma met the Earl that night feeling more secure about their nightly adventures. She assumed everything would go as usual. She was mistaken. Things started to go wrong the minute the Earl met her.

  “I think Pickering is suspicious. He asked me where I disappear to at night. It seems he has seen me slip out of bed more than once. He could have followed me before, but I am not sure.”

  “How can you be sure that he hasn’t followed you again?”

  “I slipped a sedative into his cup this evening. It is a perk of being a gardener and knowing my plants. He will sleep like a log the entire night, but I cannot keep dosing him, or he will get suspicious.”

  “I hope we find a letter written to Nutters regarding your status. I am getting weary of this nightly prowling.”

  “I agree, we cannot keep doing this. We are sure to be discovered sooner than later.”

  Emma picked up the candle and made her way out into the hallway.

  They had walked down the main staircase and turned the corner towards the Duke’s study when they heard the unmistakable sound of a floorboard creak.

  “It came from the stairs,” whispered Emma in fright.

  The Earl held his finger to his lips and peered around the corner to look at the staircase.

  Emma joined him and stifled a gasp.

  A ghostly figure in black was slowly descending the stairs. A candle held aloft in one hand was throwing flickering shadows on the face. The figure was tall and straight, while the skin looked unnaturally pale.

  Emma dug her nails into the Earl’s arm. He grasped her hand and held it.

  They watched transfixed as the vision moved slowly down the steps. The closer it moved, the more aware Emma became of the fact that she knew that face. The carriage was different, yet the features looked remarkably familiar.

  The figure stopped on the bottom step, and Emma suddenly knew whom she looked at.

  The Earl pulled her quickly towards the study. They hid inside and blew out the candle. After a moment, they heard footsteps approaching the door. The person paused outside briefly and then moved on. Emma waited for a few moments before sagging against the Earl.

  She clutched his shirt sleeve and said, “That was Lady Babbage. I barely recognised her. I always have this notion of her bending over a piece of cloth or wool. She seemed taller, and I have never seen that expression on her face before.”

  “What do you suppose she was doing roaming around so late at night? I had assumed it was the Duchess on her walks hunting down spirits.”

  Emma was surprised she hadn’t thought of that as well. She was also a trifle embarrassed that her first thought instead had been that the woman was a ghost.

  “She may have been unable to sleep and went to fetch a book in the library.”

  “Except that she was fully dressed and looked as though she was going out,” he replied.

  “Perhaps she never changed, though I recall she wore a dull blue dress tonight . . . not black.”

  “Odd . . . Well, we can’t go through the papers today as the candle is out. I don’t think we will be able to find a tinder box in the dark. Besides, I am afraid Lady Babbage may catch us. We can’t afford to take that risk. I suggest we retire for the night and pray the Duke has not written to Nutters yet.”

  “With the way my luck has gone tonight, I wouldn’t be surprised if he has. Oh, well, we can’t do more. Goodnight, Richard.”

  The Earl, instead of answering, pulled her close. It was a considerable time before Emma reached her room.

  ***

  Next morning, Catherine and Prudence left for the village accompanied by the Duchess. Mrs Barker said she felt a little under the weather and decided to stay home.

  Meanwhile, Emma, garbed in a faded grey dress, sought out Lady Babbage, who agreed to accompany her, finding her request for learning more about plants perfectly acceptable.

  Pickering informed her that the head gardener could be found in the Oriental Garden. That man, Emma mused, knew where every single soul was on the entire estate. He had barely given a thought before answering her.

  Sure enough, the Earl was bending over some exotic plant, turning the earth with his fingers. An under-gardener who looked to be around thirty sat listening to whatever the Earl was saying.

  They both glanced up as Emma approached. The Earl smiled in welcome, his blackened teeth causing her amusement.

  She glanced at the man next to him and was shocked to see pure loathing on his face. Emma turned to see what he was looking at and found the source of his ire — Lady Babbage.

  Lady Babbage had barely glanced at the two men and missed the look directed her way. She found a stone bench and pulling out her needles calmly prepared to work.

  By the time Emma turned around, she found the under-gardener already walking away. The Earl sat staring after him.

  “What do you think that was about?” Emma asked, pulling on her gloves.

  “Who knows? Perhaps she offended him some time. The rich are often insensitive to the plight of lesser born. I am ashamed to admit that I, too, have been callous towards servants at times. At the time, I was unaware of the hurt I was inflicting. Still, it is no excuse. We really must learn to be more sensitive. That young man is new here, and I think he was in a better position until some misfortune robbed him of his luck. He has not had time to grow the thick skin needed to live the life of a servant.”

  “Don’t be sad . . . Come tell me what to do? I might as well learn something while I am here.”

  Emma spent some time learning how to weed. While she was pulling out the unwanted roots, she asked, “Whom do you love the most in your family?”

  “You know I lost my parents at a young age?”

  At Emma’s nod, he continued. “I was eighteen at the time and my sister only twelve. I suppose out of those alive she is the one person I treasure most.”

  “She is married to a marquis now, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, very happily married. They are expecting a baby.”

  “How wonderful. I can’t wait to meet her. I suppose she was in the country due to her condition, which is why I missed meeting her during my season in London.”

  “Another two months and we will have a new admission in our family. I, of course, intend to make sure we have our own first born before she manages to conceive her next child.”

  “It is not a race, My Lord,” said Emma blushing.

  “Oh, but it is, especially since I intend to have at least ten before I am too old.”

  “Ten children!” said Emma laughing. ”Surely you jest.”

  The Earl’s eyes warmed as he watched her face light up.

  “I have been trying to ask you something.”

  Emma sobered, hearing the strain in the Earl’s voice.

  “I tried to a few times but something always diverted us.”

  “What is it?” asked Emma, her heart beating fast. Something in his tone alerted her as to his intent.

  “Emma, what are you doing here?”

  Emma leaped up, brushing her hands on her skirt, forgetting she was wearing muddy gloves. Mrs Barker stood with the Duke staring at her in shock.

  Chapter Eleven

  Emma addressed the Duke, “I was learning how to weed. I intend to have my own garden, and this seemed the best way to l
earn.”

  “I thought I told you not to wander out alone.”

  A flash of anger crossed Emma’s face before it was quickly concealed. She hated the way the Duke tried to run everyone’s life, never allowing anyone, not even his own daughter, to walk unaccompanied in her own home.

  “I am not alone. Lady Babbage is sitting right there, and I had asked her permission,” she said defensively.

  The Duke looked down at her face and rightly guessed her thoughts. He let out a tired sigh and said, “Forgive me, I did not notice her.”

  Emma gave a short nod.

  The Duke waited for a moment before walking away with Mrs Barker clinging to his arm.

  “That Duke . . . ” muttered the Earl, prudently keeping the rest of his thoughts to himself.

  Their pleasant moment together was ruined. She spent the next hour staying silent while he softly pointed out some plant or the other.

  He could see she was not attending, and he finally suggested that she should go back indoors. The day was becoming chilly, and she was not warmly dressed.

  Lady Babbage took Emma’s arm and they started walking back.

  “That gardener is not what he seems,” she said idly.

  Emma tripped, and after steadying herself said, “Whatever do you mean?”

  “He is younger than he is pretending to be, isn’t he?”

  Emma turned to face her in shock.

  “I noticed his face was not lined. He had more agility than a man of his age should have had. Is he someone you love? Someone you do not want the Earl to know about?”

  “No! It’s nothing like that.”

  “I was young once and know what it is to love without a care for status and riches. The Earl is a rich man and an excellent match. I perfectly understand your feelings, my dear. You can confide in me, you know.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. I would never do that to a man I was betrothed to. I am not having an affair, and I didn’t notice anything odd about the gardener.”

  A flash of irritation crossed Lady Babbage’s face, and she tightened her grip on Emma’s arm. It took her a moment to compose herself and say soothingly, “I apologise, I think of you as I think of Catherine. Even if I am not your chaperone, you have, after all, grown up in this household. Your parents may not have appointed me your guardian, but the Duke surely intends for me to care for you just as I do for his own daughter. I have seen you every summer from the time you were born. I think I have earned the right to caution you. I did not mean to overstep my bounds.”