The Duke's Revenge

by Alexia Praks

  Satisfied, he kissed her forehead and stood up. “Don’t tire yourself,” he said and left.

  Ivy sat there, wondering what he was up to. Well, she’d soon find out she told herself and turned back to her reading.

  It was half an hour later when Lisa came in and asked, “Would you like anything?”

  “Tea, thank you, put it in my room. I won’t need you further. I’m going to have a nap,” she said over her book.

  “Yes of course,” the maid said and left.

  Ivy sat there reading for another fifteen minutes when she got up and went to her room. She found the tea set on the bedside table. She sat down and poured herself a cup. She took a sip. The warm liquid sooth her, and she drank the rest. When she finished, she moved to lie down on the bed. A moment later she began to feel drowsy and then fell asleep.

  Light footstep approached the bed. The thrusting of muslin skirt echoed in the quiet room. The woman stared down at the sleeping form with cold, narrowed eyes.

  “I told you you won’t get away from me,” she said.

  CHAPTER 28

  Max looked at the box in his hands. He had spent much time that afternoon polishing it and the miniature portrait. He wanted to make sure when his wife sees them for the first time, they were in much the same condition as she had left them.

  He looked at the setting sun; its golden halo spread across the vast sky and reflected on the sparkling water. The white swans were flushed golden as they glide playfully in the lake. The scenery was beautiful and peaceful. A perfect setting for him to declare his feelings for his wife and giving her back her long lost treasure.

  He stood there under the willow tree, waiting for her for half an hour.

  She did not come.

  When it was dark, he got worried. Did she deliberately jilt him, he wondered.

  Suddenly, he felt a tight twist in his stomach. Without further ado, he dashed from the spot and ran to the castle. He was at the grand stair when he encountered Mrs. Price.

  “Where’s Ivy?”

  “I’m not sure,” the woman stammered.

  “She is not in her room?”

  “I do not know, your grace.” Mrs. Price widened her eyes in surprise.

  Max rushed up the stairs two steps at a time. He stalked across the corridor and kicked the door to her room open.

  “Ivy?” he called. He found her bed empty.

  “Your grace?” Lisa rushed into the room, her face paled.

  “Where’s Ivy?” he growled.

  “She told me she was tired and came up to nap.”

  “She’s not here. Where the hell could she be?” He frowned and walked to her bed.

  On the bedside table he saw an empty cup. He turned to the maid and asked, “Did you make this for her?”

  Lisa nodded.

  Max brought the cup up to his nose and sniffed. He narrowed his eyes. It didn’t smell right. “Laudanum!” he said.

  “Laudanum? Her grace does not take laudanum.”

  “Somebody must have put it in her tea,” he commented. “Who was here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Get Mrs. Price and Donald, gather everyone to the drawing room. Now!”

  “Sir?”

  “I need to question everyone,” he said, walking out the room.

  Ten minutes later, the servants were standing quietly in the drawing room, having been disrupted from their daily works.

  Max stood by the hearth with his hands clasped behind him. He scanned across the many faces of his servants as they waited for his command. With a loud, clear voice he said, “The duchess is missing. I want all the information I can get to help find her.” He looked from one face to the other.

  One by one, maids and footmen began to nod their heads.

  “Had anyone noticed an unidentified person in or around the castle lately?” he shouted to the mass of servants.

  “Your grace, this castle is tightly guarded by the footmen and maids,” Donald said, looking at his master. “There is no way an unidentified person could have walked in. However, there is another way, and since I am here the longest, I know of a secret passageway hidden beneath the stairs in the north wings of the castle. ‘Tis used for escape, your grace. If I know my history correctly, it was specifically designed by the second earl of Westwood during Queen Elizabeth’s reign. If someone what to sneak in and that person knew of the passageway, then he could very well do it without the servants ever noticing.”

  “You must show me where it is.” Max turned to the coach drivers, “Nick and Derrick, come with me. Mean while the rest of you start searching in and outside the castle. Come Donald.” He walked to the door.

  The butler rushed after the duke and Nick and Derrick followed behind him. Uncle John went after them.

  They came to a narrow passageway under the back stairs of the north wings.

  “There is nothing here, Donald.” Nick, the coachman said, looking around them.

  “There is a secret lock that opens the door,” the butler said. “It must be one of these stonewall here.” He started tapping on the wall.

  Max sharp eyes glanced from ceiling to the floor and from left to right. “Start searching, everyone,” he said, and incidentally, he saw John. He nodded, and the muted man nodded back. He turned and started tapping on the wall.

  Max moved inch by inch as he worked his way around the wall. Then he came across ones that looked a little different from the rest. The grey color was lighter and the way it was positioned was not as tight as the rest. He spread his palm on it and gave it a push. The stone slid inward. A loud grinding sound echoed through the passageway. The left wall opened.

  “You found it, your grace,” Derrick said.

  Max took a closer look at the narrow, forbidden passageway. There were stairs leading downward into the darkness. Dusts and spider webs were everywhere. He narrowed his eyes and kneeled down.

  “The torch!” He reached his hand out.

  Uncle John handed him the torch. Max brought it down to the stone floor. He saw footprints marked clean against the dusts invested passageway.

  “Somebody was here walking through this passageway,” he said, confirming their suspicion.

  “By the look of it there’s more than one person,” Nick pointed at the other footprints of different sizes.

  He looked down at the long, dark passageway. He stood, and with the torch held high, he walked in. John and the servants followed.

  The sound of their footsteps echoed loud in their ears as they made their way deeper into the unknown. In the distance, they could hear their own harsh breath and the dripping of water.

  “I believe we are now under the lake,” Donald said.

  “We are?” Nick asked, incredulous.

  “This castle was designed and built in such a way that the family can run to the distant cave in the woods not far from here in case of a siege.”

  Max came to a sudden stop.

  “What is it, your grace?” Nick whispered.

  “We have to split up.” Max waved his torched before him. The tunnel had now branched into three different ways.

  “I believe it was so that if the enemy found the escape route, they will have to choose one. One is the right one and the other two are dead ends,” Donald explained.

  “Donald, Derrick,” Max turned to the two servants, “you two take that left one; and Uncle John and Nick, you two take the one in the middle, I’ll take this right one.”

  They nodded, and one by one, they paired up and entered their assigned tunnels.

  Max turned to his and entered. It was dark and the echoing of water dripping was louder in his ears.

  As he ran through the long, dark, narrow tunnel, his gut was churning inside out. He only hoped that he would get there on time. He damn well hoped he had chosen the right passageway too.

  The tunnel seemed to be stretching longer the faster he ran. He was also aware that the dripping water was getting fainter behind him.

&nb
sp; He didn’t know how long he had been running, and suddenly, he slipped and fell to his knees. The torch flew off his hand and everything went dark.

  Damn it, this was just what he needed.

  Cursing fluently, he got up and spread out his hand to feel the wall around him. He took a few steps forward when something hit him by the shoulder.

  He fell. The pain burnt through his skin. He turned to look at what it was but all he could see was darkness. He frowned and struggled up. He took a few steps when something smacked on his other shoulder.

  He fell to the cold stone floor again.

  “Who’s there?” he shouted into the silent. His voice echoed across the tunnel as he narrowed his eyes against the pitch darkness. His breathing was harsh and deep.

  There was no replied. Wasting no time and ignoring the pain on his shoulder, he struggled up and kept walking forward. In the distance he saw his torch; its flam was alive and flickering weakly. His heart lifted. He rushed to it.

  Another smack landed on his back. The impact was so strong that he fell hard to the ground.

  He knew that somebody was hiding behind him, trying to murder him. Such coward, he thought, and angrily he turned in time to see a shadowy figure approaching him. The swinging came again. He twisted to the right—missed being smashed by an inch. He caught the culprit’s arm and punched the man’s stomach with his fist. Once he straightened up, he gave the man another blow on the side of his head. He heard a loud thud and then another loud thud and then silent.

  He turned and ran up to get his torch. He brought it up and rushed back to the unconscious body. He lowered the torch and what he saw choked him immensely.

  “Sherington!”

  He shook his head as he looked at the man lying there with his head bleeding. He kneeled down and touched his fingers to the man’s neck. There was no pulse. Sherington was dead.

  The bastard had wanted to murder him for a long time, and now he knew who was responsible for all the mishaps that had happened in his estate in these past months. Did Sherington really wanted to avenge his father’s death and get his inheritance back that much even though the earl’s death had nothing to do with him? It was merely because of the earl’s own folly? The man had loved to gamble and had lost all his wealth to him one night at Whites. Sherington had wanted all that back. The man had been full of hatred and revenge. But then, Max thought, for a while he had, too, been consumed with hatred and vengeance. No more, he told himself, for it had caused him and others nothing but pain. And there he turned his thought to his wife.

  Where was she?

  He stood up, and leaving Sherington’s dead body there, he continued his way through the tunnel to find his wife.

  ***

  Ivy opened her eyes to the unbearable pain aching away in her head. She looked about her and felt the confinement of her surrounding suffocating her. She pulled herself up into a sitting position.

  The moment she sat, the world spun before her. She gagged and felt as though she wanted to vomit. She touched her head and continued to look around. She felt disorientated as she stared wide-eyed at the looming cave. She heard the cries of wild, hungry wolves from afar and the echo of the silent close to her made her heart beat with fear.

  Where was she?

  She was about to get up when she heard a soft, mocking voice from her left.

  “So you are awake?”

  She turned and her eyes widened. “Mother!”

  “I am not your mother you insolence slut,” the woman screamed, rushed toward and pulled Ivy’s long hair. “I am not your mother. I never was.”

  “What do you want? Why are you doing this to me?” Ivy asked, her voice quivering and her body shaking.

  “Why, you asked me why, Ivy? You should know why.” The woman laughed and slapped her on the cheek.

  The action threw Ivy on her back.

  The woman advanced toward her, and Ivy moved back.

  “You took him from me. Dominic was mine in the beginning. He was always mine. He was never Grace’s nor was he ever yours,” she said, “ask Gale.” She pointed to a figure standing in the shadow. “She knows, Dominic was mine and mine alone.”

  “Mother, please, I am your daughter,” Ivy begged.

  “Stud up, you are not my daughter, you never was. I have no daughter.” The woman grabbed a bunch of Ivy’s long hair chin and snarled as she said, “I’m going to kill you, Ivy, very slowly and very painfully. No one will find you here. You will die of starvation. I will whip you until you could not bear more pain, until you could not cry out for help. Oh yes, no one will help you now. When I get tired, Gale will help me.” She threw her head back and laughed, her madness echoing loud in the cave.

  When she stopped her laughter, she stood up.

  “Look how pathetic you are, Ivy. I wondered what he would think when he sees you now.” She turned to the skinny woman and commanded, “Gale, the whip!”

  “Aye, m’ lady.” The maid rushed forward and handed a long, thin strap to her mistress.

  “No!” Ivy shook her head. “You will not whip me again, ever. I won’t allow you.” Ivy struggled up. Her knees buckled and she fell down. She pushed herself up and said firmly, “I won’t allow you to whip me again.”

  “You dare to stand up to me?”

  “Yes, I am standing up to you,” Ivy said through gritted teeth.

  “Insolence girl!” the woman screamed and slashed the whip.

  The strap hit Ivy’s arm. She winced.

  The woman raised the whip again. Ivy rushed forward and grabbed it from the woman’s hand.

  “Let go!”

  “No, you won’t hurt me again,” Ivy said as she pulled the strap from the woman’s hands.

  “Gale, help!” Grace shouted. When Ivy didn’t let go, she slapped Ivy’s face.

  The pain did not reach Ivy’s heart this time, and she slapped the woman back on the cheek. When the woman simply glared at her, she slapped the woman again.

  Gale rushed up behind Ivy and grabbed a bunch of her long, loose hair and pulled her back. Ivy lost her gripping on the strap and fell to the ground.

  Grace sneered and slashed the whip on her. Ivy rolled away just in time as another slashing came. It missed her by an inch. As she was doing so, she grabbed Gale’s skirt and pulled the maid to the ground. She punched the maid with her fists and then rushed to Grace and grabbed for the whip. Grace saw her coming and slashed the strap on her again. This time it hit her, causing her to fall to the ground.

  Grace came to her, grabbed her hair, and glared into her eyes. “You think you are so strong? You’re just like your mother before she died.”

  Ivy widened her eyes and her already pale face turned even paler with horror. “What are you saying?”

  “Ah, curious now, are we?” Grace laughed. She moved her face closer, and through gritted teeth, she said, “Since you are going to die here I might as well tell you who I am.”

  Ivy stared at the mad woman, her blue eyes wide.

  “I am not your mother, I never was.” Grace moved her mouth to Ivy’s right ear and whispered, “I killed your mother, Lady Grace Westwood.” She moved her back and smiled. “Aye,” she said, “I killed your mother, the real Lady Grace Westwood, my twin sister. Did you know that we were so alike even our dear papa couldn’t even tell us apart? Even dear Dominic couldn’t tell us apart. Even your dear papa couldn’t tell us apart. I killed her and took her place, as was rightfully mine. And now, Ivy, I will kill you, too, and take your place as it should be rightfully mine. Dominic was my lover. He was never Grace’s. Yes, I, Julie Anderson, will be the Duchess of Lynwood.” She stood back and laughed as she spread her arms out in the air.

  “You’re crazy,” Ivy said, shaking her head with disgusted.

  “Aye, my dear, I am crazy. I had it all in my young lives, and I am not about to loss it all just because of you. I will claim back what should have been mine.” She raised the strap, ready to unleash it on Ivy.

  Ivy cl
osed her eyes, waiting for the pain to come when the strap hit her for she was too tired and too sore to move. But it did not come. She opened her eyes and saw that the whip was still in midair. She turned to see Max’s hand gripping the woman’s wrist. Her heart soared with happiness. His eyes, she saw, were a blue fury of anger and the muscles at his jaw were flexing.

  “You will not touch my wife,” he said through gritted teeth and shoved the woman away.

  Julie fell to the floor and scrambled away from him like a pathetic animal.

  Max rushed to his wife and kneeled beside her. “Are you all right?”

  Tears flowed down her cheeks. She managed to nod.

  “You shouldn’t be here, Dominic. I will kill her and then we can get marry. We could be lovers again like old times,” Julie cried.

  Max turned to look at the woman in disgusted. “Woman, what are talking about? I will never marry the likes of you,” he said as he helped Ivy up to stand beside him.

  Julie shook her head. “You bastard, you made love to me. You had asked me to marry you,” she screamed. “You lying bastard. You are a nobody, you hear, just a stupid boy with no future. You should have never inherited a dukedom with too much money. You bastard, you asked me to marry you,” she screamed and shook her head.

  “Woman, I’ve never asked you to marry me. You must have mistaken me with Dominic, my brother,” Max said coldly.

  Julie widened her as she stared at him. “What! But how?”

  “The Earl of Westwood had shot him in the heart at the duel. He died instantly. I was too late.”

  Ivy snuggled her face against Max’s shoulder and tightened her arms around his neck. Her papa had killed his brother? Oh God, was that why he hated her so much? Was that why he did what he could in his power to ruin her family, to take his revenge?

  “You lie!” Julie snapped, “it’s not true.”

  “Whether you believe it to be true or not, Miss Anderson, I don’t bloody care.”

  Julie widened her eyes. “You knew?”

  “I didn’t know it then but I do now. I summed it all up with what little Dominic had told me about you when you two were together and what I know of Grace herself. She was nothing like you, Julie, and when I met Ivy, she was everything Grace was, kind, gentle, and damn beautiful to boot. And the fact that you treat Ivy the way you are, I could only make the conclusion that no mother would ever want to hurt her own daughter. Even animals, Miss Anderson, still love their young ones and protected them with their life. Only a monster, a monster such as you, Miss Anderson, would treat their young ones otherwise.”