by Wendy Vella
He reached out for her, and Catherine panicked. She ducked under his arm and ran towards the stairs.
He leaned his head against the doorpost as he watched her departing back. A low growl of frustration escaped him.
***
The dinner that night was subdued. Prudence picked at her meal and barely contributed to the conversation. Catherine’s colour was high, though she managed to go through the entire meal without a single mishap. Emma was the only one in good spirits; her long nap had done her wonders.
The women retired to the salon soon after dessert, while the men passed the port.
Lord Raikes sat swirling the ruby liquid in his glass. The Duke had excused himself soon after the ladies departed, for he had an urgent business to see to. That left him alone with Mr Barker. He would have excused himself as well, for Mr Barker was dreadfully dull, but good manners forced him to sit until his glass was empty.
“Do you speculate, My Lord?” Mr Barker asked, eagerly leaning forward in his chair. It was clear the man had been waiting to catch Lord Raikes alone. He drummed the table with his fingertips as he continued, “I ask only because I have two excellent business opportunities. The Duke is very keen on one of them, and he as good as signed the document to invest in that scheme. Now, I would have kept this to myself, but you are, after all, going to be part of the family. So I am willing to share the details with you.”
Lord Raikes frowned at the tapping finger. The man was sweating, he noted. His reasons for sharing a grand business opportunity with him just because he would be a part of the Duke’s family soon sounded unconvincing.
Mr Barker was not the Duke’s family, and even if he had been, he doubted the man felt any familial duties. He ignored his daughter and his wife and barely spoke to Emma. He kept his face expressionless as he nodded politely.
Mr Barker took this as an encouraging sign; his fingers drummed faster as he said,
“There is a gold mine in central Africa. We need finances to send experts to find the area and buy it from the current owner. You can imagine the returns on such an expedition.”
“Why doesn’t the current owner sell the gold himself? Why do you need experts to find the area? Is it lost?”
Mr Barker looked annoyed, and his fingers stilled. Lord Raikes heaved a silent sigh of relief as he waited for the reply.
“We know of it. I heard from a retired colonel of impeccable reputation that one such mine exists. Due to unfortunate circumstances some workers died in the blast the last time it was worked on. The locals believe it to be cursed; hence, they have neglected it and choose not to speak of it. I am sure the owner will be willing to sell it at a reasonable price.”
Lord Raikes frowned. He did not believe for one moment the Duke would indulge in speculation. It was too risky, and too many people's livelihood depended on him.
This gold mine sounded vague, and he had the feeling Mr Barker was lying when he said the Duke was willing to invest in any such venture. Still, he could not outright deny any interest, and politeness bid him hear the man out.
“Africa is a dangerous country with an alien terrain. It would be hard to coerce the locals to speak to you, even if you do manage to communicate with them. The country is vast with a variety of languages, and finding a translator would be a task in itself.” He continued in a kinder tone, “What about the other venture?”
Mr Barker brightened visibly as he spoke,
“I have a crew ready to go across to India and bring back a ship filled with exotic spices and silks.”
“The risks seem high, do they not? I know the returns are good as I know of people who returned with enough wealth to live comfortably for years. But how will they reach their destination, with pirates plaguing the waters? An inexperienced crew would never be able to handle such a long and dangerous journey, even if they do manage to stay afloat through ocean storms.”
“But the crew is experienced, My Lord. Why, they have made the trip five times in the last five years and have always been successful.”
He frowned at the reply, disliking the man for outright lying to him. He spoke coldly now,
“If, as you say, they have travelled to India and been successful five times, then they must have amassed enough treasure to have no need for financial assistance. Why then are they asking for money?”
“You know how expensive England is getting, and these men only know sails and spars. They have squandered their money, and unlike us, they have no business head,” Mr Barker replied comfortably.
“I find it hard to believe that within a year they spent an entire fortune that a ship filled with Indian spices brings. Why, it is as coveted as gems and jewels, and the earnings would have kept each crew member in comfort for a long time. I fear you have been deceived, Mr Barker, and I have my doubts if the Duke would invest in such a scheme. I implore you to stay away from such speculations. They are risky and the returns rare.”
Mr Barker clenched his hands around the glass, and Lord Raikes hesitated momentarily. Yet the man had lied to him, and his conscience did not allow him to extend his assistance.
If Mr Barker had conducted himself well and treated his wife and daughter as a man should, then he would have, without a question, offered some financial aid to the man. But he had his doubts about what Mr Barker would do even if he did give him the money. The man was foolish, and he would probably throw the entire sum away in some ridiculous venture or a gambling hall.
He tossed his drink down and politely excused himself to join the woman in the other room.
Catherine spent the entire evening cleverly avoiding him. She sat talking to Lady Babbage until the older lady decided to retire for the night. She decided to follow her aunt’s example and quickly made her excuses and departed for bed.
Lord Raikes lost interest in the company soon after her departure, and seeing his downcast mood, the others too became bored and turned in for the night.
***
It was cold and muddy the next day. Catherine happily refused to accompany Emma on her walk.
Prudence still looked unwell, and finally it was just Lord Raikes, Emma, and Lady Babbage, who chose to take a stroll in the garden.
The Earl watched Lady Babbage and Emma approach with Lord Raikes in tow. He quickly sat up so that the party had a clear view of him with his shears. They would not have a chance of a whispered conversation, as Lady Babbage seemed to be glued to Emma’s side today. He nodded to them as they passed by.
His eyes followed Emma’s departing back, but it was Lady Babbage who grabbed his attention by halting a few feet in front of him. He forced himself to focus on the old lady instead of Emma’s appealing behind.
Lady Babbage was rummaging around in her sewing basket. She waited until Lord Raikes and Emma had walked a few feet away from where she stood, before turning her head and giving the Earl a piercing look. Satisfied that he was watching her intently, she dropped a piece of paper on the ground. She glanced back at him to ensure he had seen the paper. She surreptitiously inclined her head towards it, and then walked briskly to catch up with Emma.
She had just made his job easier by seeking him out it seemed. He got up as soon as the party turned the corner and snatched up the paper.
A single line was scrawled on it in an untidy, cramped script.
Weeping Willow Pond, Eight P.M
The Earl frowned and crumpled the note in his fist. He had wanted to find out what she required of him, but now that he had the chance he hesitated. Did he really want to enmesh himself in such a tangle? He already had his work cut out; did he truly wish to go courting something far more dangerous?
It was just the matter of speaking to the woman. He would listen to her, and he may be able to warn the Duke of some impending danger.
He did not have to heed her wishes, since she had no great hold over him. The worse she could do was to inform the Duke and his best friend. That was not a drastic situation. Besides, his curiosity was too great for him to let go o
f such an opportunity.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lord Raikes and Emma walked quickly, trying to outpace their chaperone. Lady Babbage strode just as fast, looking not the least bit out of breath.
They eyed the old woman irritably, increasing their speed. Their race was halted when they crossed the orangery.
“Isn’t that the Duchess?” Lord Raikes inquired, staring at a figure standing in the distance.
“I wonder what she is doing here. She seems to be speaking to a man. Who is he do you think?” Emma asked.
“Perhaps a worker? She must deal with any number of people on the estate,” he mused.
“No, she does not. Catherine is the one in charge, since her grace is normally indisposed,” Lady Babbage remarked blandly.
“She is giving him something. I cannot see what it is . . . looks like a package of some sort,” Emma said, shading her eyes to see against the glare of the sun.
“The Duke may have requested her assistance. Catherine may have been busy,” he replied, unconcerned.
“I suppose so.”
“Come, let us turn back,” Lady Babbage said, pulling Emma’s arm.
With a last look at the Duchess, she complied, and they turned back to the house.
***
Emma returned to her room to change out of her muddy clothes. The entire beastly walk had been a waste of time.
Lady Babbage had not left her alone for even a minute, which had made it difficult for them to have a meaningful conversation.
Lord Raikes quickly changed with the help of his valet. He decided to go the morning room hoping to run into Catherine. He hated the way she had been avoiding him since he had kissed her.
He strode towards the room and opened the door to find the Duchess and Lady Babbage having a heated argument.
“I am warning you . . . ” the Duchess snapped before she registered Lord Raikes’ presence.
Lady Babbage pushed her chair back and walked out without a word of greeting. He stared at the Duchess in surprise, which quickly turned into alarm. Her face was almost white, and she was shaking with suppressed rage.
He rushed towards a pitcher lying on the side table and poured a glass of lemonade. He handed it to her and then knelt down to hold her hand, “Drink some, it will help.”
She complied. Her trembling stopped, but her colour did not improve. He worriedly soothed her, all the while wondering if he should run for the Duke, when the door opened, and Catherine walked in.
She took in the scene of Lord Raikes stroking the beautiful Duchess’ hand and jumped to the wrong conclusion. Her face flushed with anger and embarrassment. Her prejudiced mind barely registered her stepmother’s pallor, her eyes full of accusations.
Lord Raikes guessed her thoughts and sighed. He spoke irritably, “Your mother is ill. Perhaps you can help her?”
Catherine looked back at her stepmother and noticed how pale she was. Contrite and concerned, she rushed to her side. Kneeling beside Lord Raikes, she asked, “What is it?”
“Nothing, it will pass. Don’t worry, just call for some coffee. That should revive me.” Her voice sounded stronger.
The coffee was called for, and she took her place next to her stepmother.
“Did you argue with Aunt?” Catherine inquired.
“How did you know?”
“I saw her face outside in the hallway. I tried to speak to her, but she brushed me aside.”
“We just had a small disagreement,” the Duchess replied weakly.
“Mother, you have never liked her. Why don’t you say something to the Duke?”
The Duchess looked at her in surprise, “We had tried to keep it between ourselves. How did you guess?”
“You avoid her, and every time I walk into the room and the two of you are alone, I can feel the tension. You have lived with her for years yet never developed a bond. I know she is difficult, but I still wonder why you never hinted your concerns to the Duke?”
“We are both adults and can solve our own problems. You cannot get along with everyone, and living under the same roof is bound to bring out some differences. Besides, I did not think it was my place to request the Duke to move her someplace else. It is his decision as to who is a suitable chaperone for you. Even if I do not agree, I cannot do anything about it. She is, after all, my sister-in-law.”
Catherine stayed silent, pondering her words.
“Are you happy with her being your chaperone?” Lord Raikes asked, turning to look at Catherine.
“I did not mind her a few years ago. She was kind, yet over the years, she has changed. She cares about me, but she refuses to venture out further than this house. She is barely civil to the young ladies in the village who I grew up with. She refuses to acknowledge anyone who is not high-born. My friends are respectable, and they feel insulted by her barely veiled disdain. She has succeeded in alienating me from everyone, and I wish I could have some other chaperone for a change.”
He was surprised at the vehemence in her voice. He had failed to detect the depth of her bitterness. She maintained such a calm and civil demeanour in front of her aunt. He had noticed everyone giving into some irritation in her presence, including the Duke, but Catherine had always appeared to accept her chaperone without complaint.
The coffee arrived at that moment, and further talk was postponed. The Duchess seemed to have revived after her first cup.
Catherine set out to cheer her stepmother up, refusing to bring up the topic of Lady Babbage again.
Lord Raikes told them a few humorous stories of his childhood and soon the two women were laughing.
He was saying now, “ . . . and then I sat on the horse without a stitch on. My father watched me from the window as I rode towards the stables in the dead of winter.”
“Oh, a moment, I have a message, can you hear it, My Lord,” the Duchess interrupted.
He paused, taken aback by the sudden intervention. He politely left his story off and strained his ears. He could hear nothing.
“What am I supposed to be listening for?” he asked cautiously.
“My dear child, your departed mother wishes to speak to you.”
The Earl’s mother was dead, but his was very much alive. If he had ever felt that her grace was a genuine psychic, it was dispelled now.
“Hear her!” she suddenly screamed at him.
Alarmed, Lord Raikes pushed his chair back. Catherine started giggling. This was the first time he was being subjected to one of her stepmother’s odd readings.
The Duchess banged her hands on the table rattling the spoons in the cups. She suddenly leapt up and pointed accusingly at him, “You have a message . . . hear her! She speaks to you from beyond the grave . . . ”
Lord Raikes leaned back in his chair, casting beseeching glances towards Catherine, who ignored him.
The Duchess now came around the table, her eyes wild as she approached her prey.
“Listen!” she screamed as she stretched out her hand.
He panicked, leaning further back, until the chair tipped over and sent him sprawling to the ground.
He remained in the chair, his legs straight up and waving in the air. He had banged his head on the ground, though the thick carpet cushioned his fall.
The Duchess snapped out of her trance and rushed to him. Catherine came to his other side, both of them speaking at once.
“I am fine,” he muttered.
“Your mother just wanted you to know that you have chosen a wonderful bride, and one day she will save you from hanging yourself from a chandelier. You should not contemplate such thoughts . . . Oh, my!” she trailed off, staring at something between his legs.
For the first time, he became aware of a cool breeze in the area where the legs of his breeches met. With growing horror, he realised that his crown jewels were hanging out in the open air, since his pants, along with his unmentionables, had ripped down the centre.
The Duchess was staring right at it with a look of pure admirati
on.
Catherine leaned over to see what was fascinating her stepmother so much when her eyes fell on the source. She clapped her hand to her mouth unable to look away.
He squeezed his eyes shut, aware of the spectacle he made. He could not believe that Catherine was seeing him in such an undignified position. His legs flapping in the air, his vulnerable nether regions exposed. On top of that, his brain seemed to defy his command to bring his legs back together.
The sound of the opening door snapped Catherine to her senses, and she jumped up and ran out of the room.
Lord Raikes peeked at the door to see who had arrived to witness his humiliation.
The Duke stood staring at the scene, and behind him entered Mrs Barker, Prudence, Mr Barker, and Emma. He groaned. It seemed everyone was to witness his embarrassment. He did the only thing he could. He closed his eyes and pretended to be knocked out.
“His chair tipped over. I think he hit his head. He was fine a moment ago, but he seems to have lost consciousness,” said the Duchess worriedly.
“He needs to be taken to his room. I will call the doctor,” the Duke replied. He turned to Pickering and issued orders.
Soon a few strange voices spoke above Lord Raikes. Help had arrived to carry him to his rooms. He had managed to pull his legs together when he had pretended to swoon. Now they hung limply to his side as he maintained the façade of being unconscious.
“Take his leg, Pickering, and be careful not to jar him. You, Davy, take his other leg, and you there, hold on to his shoulders. Now, on the count of three, lift him. One, two and . . . three!”
There was dead silence in the room for a minute. The two men had taken hold of a leg each of Lord Raikes and lifted him. The result was that his legs were split apart; hence, once more airing his unmentionables to the goggle-eyed spectators.
The Duke quickly blocked the view from the ladies, but it was too late. They had all got an eyeful.
“Err . . . Pickering . . . err . . . it would be better if you hold both his legs together, and Davy can hold him under the knees,” the Duke muttered.