The Duke's Revenge

by Alexia Praks

  “Is everything all right?” she asked.

  Ivy turned her gaze to the floor and blushed.

  “M’ lady?”

  “I do not want to talk about it, Lisa. I just want to forget it.”

  “But, m’ lady, you are unhappy. Did he hurt you much?”

  “When was I ever happy, Lisa? When?” She bit her lip and her eyes started to brew with tears. “I can not really remember the last time I was laughing, Lisa. Perhaps when Papa was alive but that was a long time ago.” She turned to look at the maid. “Please, do not ask anymore if you are my friend and do not want me to feel any worse than I already am right now.”

  The maid hesitated and then nodded.

  “Thank you,” Ivy said. “I’m hungry, shall we breakfast together?”

  “I’ve already had mine.”

  “You can have breakfast again with me,” she insisted, “perhaps outside, like a picnic.”

  “Yes, that would be nice.” Lisa nodded her head.

  “I do wish I could go into the town today. I only saw a glimpse of it on my journey here. Could we go, do you think?”

  “We shall have to inform His Grace though.”

  “Must we?” she snapped. She didn’t want to hear anything about him this morning, and Lisa bringing him up into their conversation only deepened her pain. The fact that she was now living under his roof and under his command only rub salt into injury. Must she inform him wherever she went? Whatever she do? Nay, she planned to do exactly the opposite. After all, she was only his mistress and not his damn wife or servant, and she would go where she pleased.

  “Yes, it was his command that if you were--”

  “We will not tell him,” she said and walked down toward the ground floor.

  Lisa frowned. “But, m’ lady, wait!”

  Ivy went into the kitchen.

  The housekeeper saw her and said, “M’ lady, you shouldn’t be here at all, ‘tis not a place for you.”

  “But I’m hungry, Mrs. Price, what good food have Mrs. Woods prepared for my breakfast?” She smiled at the fat woman.

  The cooks stared at the beauty and couldn’t think of a reply so she just blushed and smiled back.

  “Lady Ivy, I’ll take your food to the dinning room,” Lisa suggested as she entered the kitchen.

  “No need, let’s go outside, near the lake and have breakfast there.” She moved toward the cupboard and started opening doors.

  “Dear me, my lady, what are you doing?” Donald asked, astonished.

  “Finding a basket to put food in,” she replied.

  “Mrs. Price, you must stop her at once,” Donald said, rushing toward Ivy. He closed the cupboard doors she had opened.

  “What’s this, Donald? Am I not allowed to touch your beautiful cupboards?”

  “’Tis not that, my lady,” the butler said, frowning and going quite red.

  “Then what?”

  “My lady, best if you go to the drawing room and when everything is ready, Lisa will fetch you,” Mrs. Price said and nudged her toward the door.

  “Nay, tell me now, am I not good enough for the likes of your cupboard then, Donald, Mrs. Price?” she asked, angry now.

  All she wanted was a basket to put food for her breakfast picnic. Was she to be denied that small enjoyment too? Her life was limited enough with happiness, how could they stripped her of her little happiness?

  She stared at the two people bowing their heads in front of her. She was determined to get her way no matter what. She turned, and didn’t care that they begged her to stop, she slammed cupboard doors open and only to shut them again when she couldn’t find what she wanted. She thrashed various kitchen items in the cupboard to the side, and then at last, she found a basket. She grabbed it, rushed to the table, and stuffed food into it--not caring that the breads, muffins, rolls, cakes, butter, and a jar of strawberry jam were jumbled against each other. She threw knives into the basket too and then rushed out the kitchen.

  All that the four people could do was to look at her quiet tantrum, each pitying her unhappiness. But what could they do to help except to let her have her way?

  Ivy ran all the way to the bridge across the lake. There she stood, heaving with anger and self-pity. When she couldn’t seem to control her self, she threw the basket into the lake. It sunk down and then rose back up, bobbing in the water as it float away with breads, muffins, rolls, and cakes drifting across the wide-opened stream.

  Why oh why? She was so determined to be happy. Must everybody in this world be her enemy, torture her until the day she passed away from this earth. Had God no mercy for her?

  She felt a hand touching her shoulder. She turned and saw Lisa smiling at her.

  “I feel so stupid over my silly tantrum. They must think I’m stupid too, not as a lady should be,” she murmured.

  “Nay, they do not think that, they cared about you, m’ lady. They were just doing what His Grace had told them to do.”

  “What?”

  “Aye, His Grace had ordered that they prevent you from going into the kitchen. After all, ‘tis not a place where the lady of the house visits now, do they?” Lisa smiled.

  “But I love the kitchen; it’s the only happy place I can go. Mrs. Johnson loves me when I helped her with food and...”

  “Aye, with the exception of you, of course,” Lisa said.

  “Aye, with the exception of me.”

  “We want to see you happy, m’ lady.”

  “I know, Lisa, I truly tried but sometime it’s just so hard.”

  “Do you want to go to the town?”

  Ivy looked at the maid. “You mean...”

  “Aye, His Grace had already left for London, so I’m thinking.”

  “Oh, Lisa, that would be wonderful. I could bring my old gowns, too, to give away for the poor.”

  “That sounds marvelous. I know a woman who is in charge of charity for the church. Her name is Mrs. Miller and she also owns a nice little shop.”

  “Really?” Ivy was excited.

  “And there’s a little pastrycook’s shop as well.” Lisa nodded as she saw the truly happy smile from her lady. It was not hard to bring happiness into this young woman’s life.

  “Dear me!” She caught sight of the basket in the lake. “Your food—”

  “Oh, I’m hungry,” Ivy said sheepishly.

  “Come, my dear lady, you can have your breakfast in the kitchen.” The maid caught her wrist and led her toward the castle.

  CHAPTER 11

  They went to the village by horses. The grey mare Ivy rode on was gentle. This relieved her worry greatly, for she had not been riding for a number of years and her skill was a bit rusty.

  “The air is a bit chilly,” Lisa said.

  Ivy agreed with a nod. She tugged her riding coat more securely about her to keep warm. She shifted her backside on the saddle to get more comfortable. Instantly, she regretted it for the pain between her thighs shot through to the core of her heart. It still hurt even though it had since been two days past. She wondered how long it would stay that way. She knew, of course, that it would heal itself, but when, she didn’t know. If he were to come to her again she could think no further. The pain, she was sure, would be unbearable.

  “You look very uncomfortable, m’ lady, is everything all right?”

  “Oh yes, I’m fine.” Ivy smiled.

  Lisa nodded her head and they continued with their ride.

  The fresh air gave Ivy a sense of freedom. She felt just like a bird, flying up high in the air. Now and again, she looked up at the sky and laughed aloud when she saw a hawk or seagulls flapping their wings across the vas expansion.

  Lisa smiled when she saw her mistress laughing. She convinced herself that the happiness she saw from her mistress was worth disobeying the duke’s order.

  “How much longer until we get to the town?”

  “Not long now,” Lisa replied. “I’ve been there a couple of times, it’s a very nice place, m’ lady.”
r />   Ivy nodded, and they rode on in quietness.

  Staffordshire was a small town that sat not far from the lake to the north. This provided the town folks with important resource such as fish and fresh water. Scattered around the town square were small and large cottages and along the main street were stores set in two straight lines which ended at the entrance of the church.

  They stopped in the town square and tied their horses near a water fountain. They greeted the town folks who passed them by as they explored the various shops.

  Ivy was fascinated with the bakery store where colorful sweetmeats were on display inside the windows. She couldn’t help herself and rushed into the shop, admiring every delicate detail of the cakes. The owner gave them sweetmeats to sample, and Ivy liked them so much that she promised to come by again. When they left they visited Mrs. Millers’, a dressmaker and milliners shop where, after Ivy had given the owner her old garment as charity for the poor, she was having a fine time enjoying simply looking and admiring at the beautiful fabrics and dresses on display.

  Paul, a sixteen year old lad of Mrs. Millers’ son, found Ivy too beautiful to leave her alone and followed her around the store gawking at her for a full fifteen minutes. When his mother snapped for him to leave her costumer alone, he reluctantly obeyed and went to the back of the store to arrange the newly arrived fabrics.

  “I do apology for my son,” the woman said.

  “That’s all right,” Ivy said and smiled.

  The shop owner could only stare at Ivy who radiant smile had taken her breath away.

  “Anyone that you like?” she asked.

  Ivy glanced up and blushed prettily. “I am merely looking. I do not think I’ve brought enough money to buy such beautiful ribbons.”

  “That’s fine. Oh, this one here,” Mrs. Millers said and picked up a creamy color ribbon in her hands.

  “It’s beautiful,” Ivy said, giving a quick glance at Lisa. The maid nodded in agreement.

  “Here,” the shopkeeper handed it to Ivy. “A beautiful woman with a beautiful heart deserves a beautiful ribbon to tie her hair.”

  Ivy raised her brows in surprise. “But I couldn’t affor—”

  “It’s from me to you. Your hair, it’s such a beautiful black that it deserve this white ribbon,” she said and moved around the bench to come over to where Ivy was standing. “May I?”

  “Oh, hmm.” Ivy nodded her head.

  The woman lifted her thick, dark hair up and tied the ribbon around it at the nape of her neck.

  “Thank you,” she said shyly once the woman was finished.

  “You’re so beautiful. Your husband is a very lucky man.”

  “Nay, I have no husband,” Ivy said quickly.

  “Ah, then you will have trouble choosing. I am sure men swarm at your feet for your affection,” the woman said and chuckled, her eyes winkling.

  Ivy thought that that was unlikely. She thanked Mrs. Millers for the ribbon and promised to come by again next time she came into the town. She and Lisa left and they went on further to visit the church, public school, and simply admiring the town folks’ daily lives. When they got too tired they visited the small pastrycook’s shop. They were offered an assortment of treats from the shopkeeper. Ivy couldn’t decide weather to have buns, cakes, or tart with their tea. In the end, she decided to have a cake.

  They enjoyed their leisure and it was half an hour later that Lisa suggested they return to the castle before dinner. Ivy reluctantly agreed.

  They were guiding their horse out of the busy street when a child ran out of nowhere and straight toward Ivy’s mare. The boy halted midway and cried out a hell of a scream that frightened the mare. Ivy tried to control her horse. She panicked when it wouldn’t listen to her soothing words. It kicked its hind legs, causing her to fly off her seat. She lost her gripping on the reins, fell, and landed with a thud on the hard earth.

  The frightened horse was still shrilling and trying to run away, its two front hooves were inches away from hitting her.

  “Hold girl!”

  Ivy saw the hazy figure of a man and beast struggling before her. Somebody was touching her shoulders, but she was oblivious to her surrounding except for the man trying to control her mare.

  “Calm down, girl!” the stranger yelled.

  The mare calmed down and shook its head. The man patted the horse’s nose with a smile, and finally, he turned his attention to her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as he kneeled beside her.

  Nodding her head, she tried to find her voice. Good Lord, to think that she had just experience near death was beyond belief. Her body was shaking all over.

  “Lord, ‘tis all my fault, I’m sorry.”

  Ivy turned to see a woman beside her. She shook her head so that the woman wouldn’t blame herself.

  “No, no, ‘tis my fault,” the woman insisted. “Come here Dan, Mary!” she ordered.

  Two children appear before Ivy’s eyes. One was a boy with bright red hair and bright blue eyes. The other was a girl with blonde hair and metallic grey eyes. They were neatly dressed. The boy wore a grey coat, dark blue breeches, and black buckled shoes and the girl wore a pretty pink day dress.

  “Apologize to this lady right now,” the woman commanded gently as she nudged them both forward.

  The girl clamped her lips together. She curtsied and said very quietly, “I’m very sorry for what I did.”

  “Dan?” the woman said firmly.

  The boy licked his lower lip and said a bit louder than the girl did, “Sorry, Miss.”

  The woman turned to Ivy, her look of apology burnt in Ivy’s heart. “I’m truly sorry. They were playing catch, and I guessed they didn’t look at where they were going.”

  “It’s all right,” Ivy said again, getting up.

  Her knees buckled.

  “What’s the matter?” the man who had taken controlled of her mare asked as he caught her before she fell to the ground again.

  “My leg,” she gasped out tightly in pain.

  “Have you broken your leg?” He touched her limp.

  Ivy blushed and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  “You should have a look at her leg. Your clinic isn’t far from here is it, Mr. Oliver?” the woman asked.

  “Nay,” he said, and without Ivy’s consent, he picked her up in his arms and carried her across the street--with the woman and her children and Lisa trailing behind him.

  “Really, ‘tis not done, sir, I can walk,” Ivy protested.

  “Can’t take any chances,” he replied with a smile.

  He rushed through the door and straight into his surgery. There, he laid her on the table and started to examine her legs to see if there was any bone broken. His hands moved down to her ankle and he applied pressure there. She gasped out at the sharp pain.

  “You’ve sprain your ankle,” he said.

  “Do you think she can ride the mare?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m not sure if that would be a good idea. Stress would only worsen the pain and won’t heal it any faster too,” the surgeon said, looking at Ivy.

  Ivy frowned and said confidently, “Do not worry, Lisa. I can ride the mare.”

  “But ‘tis not a good idea at all,” Mr. Oliver said.

  “Dear me, I suggest you listen to Mr. Oliver,” the woman said from behind them.

  “But we must return home,” Ivy persisted.

  “Lady Hartland, I’m sure you have enough room in your carriage for, err...” Mr. Oliver turned to Ivy.

  “Ivy, please, Ivy Michaels.”

  “Why, of course, plenty of space,” Lady Hartland said. “You will go home in my carriage, dear. After all, it’s the least I can do after my children have given you such a fright and almost sending you to your grave. Goodness, where did that come from? Please pardon my speech.” She looked apologetically at Ivy.

  Ivy smile and shook her head. “Do not worry about it.”

  “Now, let me just bind up your an
kle and then you can go,” Mr. Oliver said.

  “Thank you,” Ivy replied, thankful that his hands were gentle as he was binding her ankle.

  “Do come and visit again,” he said some ten minutes later as he helped her into the carriage.

  “Yes, I will,” Ivy replied. “When I get the chance,” she said more quietly.

  “Where do you live, dear?” Lady Hartland asked from behind.

  “Westwood Castle.”

  “Westwood Castle?”

  Ivy glanced at Lisa. “Aye, Westwood Castle, just for a short time,” she said, hoping with all her heart that this would be true.

  “Visiting, are you? I’m visiting, too, an old friend at Mornington Hall.”

  The carriage started moving away from the town, and Lisa followed them on her mare.

  In the carriage, some ten minutes later, Lady Hartland suddenly asked, “What is your relationship to the duke?”

  Ivy’s heart did a startle kick. Did the woman know that she was the duke’s mistress?

  “I’ve never met the duke himself before and I would really love too. Do you think it’s all right if I visit Westwood Castle? Do you mind?” Lady Hartland smile at her innocently.

  “But ‘tis not my castle, I cannot—”

  “Oh dear and here I thought you have some kind of influence over the duke, what with you being so pretty and all. And being his close relative—” The woman raised her brows. “Oh dear, you are his cousin, are you not?”

  “Err...”

  “A distant cousin then?”

  “Well, I hardly knew him at all, my lady,” Ivy said truthfully.

  “Ah yes, a distant relation then. I think I shall ask Caroline to call upon you, my dear.” The woman smiled and changed the topic abruptly to the upcoming season.

  At Westwood Castle, Ivy went straight to her room with Lisa’s help. She had dinner in her room to avoid any questions she suspected would be fired from Donald who seemed to be keeping a constantly sharp eye on her. She was changing into her nightshirt when Lisa came in and told her that the duke won’t be returning until the next two to three weeks or even later.

  “Thank goodness,” she said with relief. “Lisa, that’s the best news I’ve heard in these past months. Do you think he won’t return for a long time?”