The Emerald Duchess

by Barbara Hazard

  In between his efforts to get himself ordered overseas, the captain was often with Lady Quentin. He escorted her himself to any party she wished to attend, and no more was heard of her cicisbeos.

  One afternoon he arrived home early to find his sister and his wife in the drawing room having tea. He kissed them both before he called the butler to bring up the best Madeira and three glasses.

  “I do not feel it is wise, dear Tony, to be indulging in spirits at this time of day,” Miss Quentin remarked. “Let me give you a cup of tea.”

  Emily heard all this from Lady Quentin that evening, for she was indignant that Bella should take over as hostess in her own drawing room. Evidently the captain agreed, for he was swift to refuse. “If I wanted tea, dear Bella, I would ask my wife for it, for she is sitting behind the tea tray as mistress here.” As Miss Quentin colored up, he added, “But come, we have a toast to drink. The Guards have been called up.” He did not appear to notice that both women paled.

  “Indeed, Nelly,” Lady Quentin told her maid, “I thought I should have to call you to bring my salts, I felt so faint. It was only that Bella was there that enabled me to control myself.”

  The toast was drunk—“To Wellington, and to success!”—without much enthusiasm by anyone but Captain Quentin. Alicia asked when he had to leave, wishing with all her heart that the two of them were alone so she might run into his arms and be comforted, and he told them that he expected to embark within the week. “So soon!” she mourned, holding tight to his hand.

  On the sofa, Miss Quentin frowned. “But, Tony, how can you be ready? That is surely much too soon. Perhaps it would be wise to plan for a later departure.”

  “I have been ready for weeks, to tell you the truth. And my batman, Sergeant Boothby, goes with me, of course. That should reassure you, Bella, for you know that I would never have come through the Peninsula Campaign if he had not been with me to care for me. So you see, there is nothing to worry about. I have no doubt that we shall rout Napoleon in short order; perhaps we might plan on spending the rest of the summer in Burton Latimer, just the three of us.”

  At this, Lady Quentin told her maid, she wanted to cry out that she wished it might be the two of them, not the three.

  She thought Bella would never take her leave, busy as she was issuing orders for his equipment and what medical supplies he must be sure to take with him, until even Captain Quentin had had enough.

  “Bella, I am not a raw recruit, you know. Have done! And that reminds me, are we not engaged to dine with the Biddleslys this evening, Alicia?” At her nod, he put down his glass and went to escort his sister to the front hall. “In that case, we must bustle about. How I look forward to telling Percy my good news! Such a stir there will be! Poor fellow, since he lost his leg at Badajoz, there can be no question of his going.”

  Bella said dryly. “In that case, Tony, perhaps you should not gloat too much? To think that he will miss such a treat! It does not bear thinking about, does it, Alicia?”

  Even in Lady Quentin’s dressing room, Emily heard the shout of laughter that accompanied this sally, and Lady Quentin was able, as she came upstairs on her husband’s arm, to smile a little as well, in spite of all her fears.

  The days rushed by. One afternoon Lady Quentin insisted the captain take her to Tattersalls so she might buy him the finest horse there, to carry him safely through the battles. He called his new black charger, Dane, in honor of the Duke of Wellington’s famous horse, Copenhagen.

  By the first of May he was gone, leaving very early one morning for the coast and the ship that would carry him to Belgium. Lady Quentin wanted to get up to see him off, but the captain intercepted Emily in the gray dawn light as she was coming to wake her mistress, and told her she was on no account to do so.

  “I shall slip in and wake her just before I leave,” he told the maid, for the first time looking a little unhappy. “There is no need for her to bestir herself so early.”

  Emily was glad to agree, for she did not feel her mistress would be able to contain her tears through a long leavetaking.

  “I have a special charge for you, Miss Nelson,” he added, his dark eyes somber and his handsome face serious. “You must take the greatest care of your mistress while I am gone. True, there is my sister to watch over her, but she and Alicia do not get on as I had hoped. I have noticed that my wife is fond of you and depends on you a great deal. You will see to her, is that understood?”

  Emily dropped him a curtsy. “You may rely on me, sir,” she said, and then added, “May I wish you good fortune, sir? We shall all be praying for your safe return.”

  “Thank you, Miss Nelson! And now I shall speak to my wife before I must leave.”

  He did not remain in Lady Quentin’s bedroom long, and Emily heard him close the door behind him and stand quietly for a moment before he ran down the stairs. Mr. Goodwell had had all the servants assembled there to bid him good-bye, but Emily was not among their number. She had gone without being summoned to Lady Quentin’s room to comfort her. She was surprised to discover her mistress standing at the window, a smile on her face as she held the drapes aside and peered down into the street.

  “There he goes! How splendid he looks on Dane,” she said as she waved and blew a kiss. In a few moments, she dropped the curtains and turned blindly away. The tears she had held back so valiantly now streamed down her cheeks. Quickly, Emily went to help her back to bed. Lady Quentin collapsed in her arms. “Oh, Nellie, what shall I do without my Tony?”

  Emily soothed her as best she could. A minute later, Mrs. Goodwell tapped on the door and handed her a cup of steaming liquid. “Get her to drink this, Miss Nelson,” the good woman whispered. “ ’Twill help her sleep, and sleep is the best thing in the world for her right now.”

  When Lady Quentin woke again, she was subdued, but very calm. She allowed Emily to dress her and followed her regular daily routine. She was seated at the desk in her room writing to her husband when Miss Quentin was announced. Emily was in the dressing room and she made no move to leave, for she decided she would interrupt if she felt the call was distressing her mistress. There was no need for such vigilance, however, for Lady Quentin was very much in command of herself. Emily was as surprised as Miss Quentin must have been at her dignity and self-control.

  She began by bemoaning her brother’s departure; Lady Quentin agreed it was very sad. Then Miss Quentin mentioned that she was sure the captain expected her to take care of his wife and she considered it her duty to do so while he was away.

  “How much better, my dear Alicia,” she said in her cool, authoritative way, “if I were to move in with you for the duration. It would be so much easier for you if I were here all the time to take over the running of the household and bear you company, for I fear you will be very lonely with Anthony away. Of course there can be no thought of your continuing to rattle about town with all the Corinthian set, now your husband is gone. Then, too, you are very young. Even as a married woman, I cannot feel easy to have you live alone. It will cause gossip. Do say you agree. I am sure it would be Anthony’s wish.”

  Emily held her breath, but Lady Quentin was more than equal to the task before her. “How very kind of you to offer, Bella, when I know how comfortably situated you are with Miss Twitchell and her mother. I would not think of inconveniencing you.”

  When Miss Quentin would have spoken, she continued quickly. “Besides, I am hardly alone with a houseful of servants to take care of me. And I must point out, dear Bella, that no matter what my age, I am a married woman. There can be no gossip about what I do, not as Tony’s wife. No, I thank you. I prefer to keep house by myself.”

  Miss Quentin argued the point again and again in the hour she remained. Lady Quentin denied her each time in a light pleasant voice before she adroitly changed the subject. Did not Bella think the weather very pleasant? Surely Tony would have a good crossing. And what did she think of her new afternoon gown? She had worried when she ordered it that it was to
o ornate, but perhaps she was wrong? It was the third row of ruffles that bothered her, what did her sister-in-law think? Miss Quentin’s voice grew more and more aggravated as Lady Quentin’s grew lighter. At last she broke into the inconsequential chitchat and said, “Come, Alicia, it ill becomes you to think so much of an afternoon dress with your beloved husband on his way to war. I beg you to reconsider my proposal. I can move my things today, for I am sure Anthony would wish to see us together.”

  “Do you, Bella?” Lady Quentin asked idly. “But in that case, he would have been sure to mention it before he left, would he not? And since he did not, I assume he knew I would prefer to remain alone. And now, my dear, I must ask you to excuse me. I have a letter I wish to finish to Tony. Do you have his direction? I am sure he will be delighted to hear from you. Oh, do not forget your reticule, Bella.”

  Miss Quentin lost no time taking her departure, and Emily had to smile when she heard her slam the bedroom door behind her. Then she heard her mistress sigh, but when she peeked around the door, she was once again at her writing desk, quill in hand.

  The following day, Lady Quentin told Emily that she was to accompany her shopping. “I have a book I wish to return to Fancourt’s Library as well,” she said.

  Emily was delighted at this sign of normalcy, but when they reached the library, Lady Quentin made no move to take out another book, not even when Mr. Fancourt himself presented her with the second volume of the book she had just returned. She smiled at him as she said, “Thank you, but I do not believe I will have much time for reading in the future.” She was bowed to the door, her puzzled maid in her wake. Not have time? What else was there to do? She could not write letters all the time.

  On the sidewalk, just as she was about to step into her carriage, Lady Quentin was hailed by a young blond gentleman, who was strolling along in the bright sunshine.

  “Alicia! Humble servant, m’lady,” he said, sweeping her a most elegant bow while he removed the jaunty beaver from his carefully arranged locks. His glance slid over to Emily and his eyes narrowed. She was carrying Lady Quentin’s reticule, and standing as she was a few paces behind her mistress as was correct, it was obvious that she was a maid, in spite of her air of breeding and fashionable clothes.

  Well, well, what have we here? Lord Andrew thought to himself. What a little beauty, and what a waste that she is nothing but a lady’s maid!

  Emily felt his eyes and looked up, and the expression she saw in those intent blue eyes made her lower her own in haste.

  He began speaking again. “Sorry to hear that Tony has hopped the Channel, m’dear, leavin’ you all alone. But do not fear; we are all eager to keep you company. Least we can do, friends of Tony that we are.” He smiled slyly, and Lady Quentin smiled back at this obvious ploy. “Do you attend Lady Jersey’s reception tonight? I would consider it an honor to escort you.

  The lady thanked him, but said she did not plan to attend, and Lord Andrews was quick to remonstrate with her, pointing out all the reasons why she should not bury herself in a nunnery while her husband was gone.

  “If I might pass?” a deep, harsh voice said behind Emily, and she jumped a little and turned to one side. The gentleman trying to pass stared at her and checked his stride. It was the Duke of Wrotherham, and as Lady Quentin continued to chat, he murmured, “Can it be possible that you do not need to be rescued this afternoon, Miss Nelson? Behold me, at your service.”

  He smiled at her, and Emily clasped her hands together tightly. She had no idea how she was supposed to answer this sally, so she only shook her head, in her confusion, forgetting to curtsy.

  “I see you have managed to keep the same mistress, girl,” the duke continued. “Is her husband blind?”

  At this Emily’s eyes darkened, and the duke admired their emerald fire. “Not all men are philanderers, sir. The captain loves his wife,” she admonished him.

  “He certainly must, how refreshing! But, then, he is a bridegroom, is he not? I think it safe to prophecy that you will not remain in the Quentins’ employ for more than a year. Do you care to wager on it?” His dark eyes were warm, and yet they taunted her with the dare, and Emily put up her chin and turned her back, seemingly fascinated with a high-perch phaeton that was passing by. The duke chuckled, and Lord Andrews caught sight of him.

  “Your Grace, well met! I have just been trying to convince Lady Quentin that she must not fall into the megrims now that Tony has gone to the wars. Do add your entreaty to mine, if you please! Lady Jersey’s reception will be a desert this evening if she does not grace it.”

  Lady Quentin curtsied to the duke, who swept her a graceful bow, removing his beaver from his shining black hair as he did so. Emily thought it looked just like a crow’s wing, dark and smooth. “I am afraid I cannot do so in a convincing manner, m’lord,” he remarked. “I am sailing myself in a few days and have no more time for balls and receptions.”

  “Are you indeed, your Grace?” Lady Quentin asked in real interest. “It seems all England is removing abroad. So, you go to see Napoleon beaten as well.”

  “Hardly that,” the duke replied. “I do not hold with sightseers at the battlefield. I travel on a small commission for the Foreign Office. And now you must excuse me, Lady Quentin, Lord Andrews...” He bowed, and replacing his I beaver while he stared at Emily, he nodded to her before he strode away.

  Emily barely noticed his stare. So this was Lord Andrews! She shivered a little, remembering his father’s love letters to Althea Wyndham, and she was glad there was no possibility that the young peer could know her real identity.

  Lady Quentin continued firm in her refusal to attend the evening’s party and before long was driving away, leaving a puzzled young man staring after her carriage. Lord Andrews did not do so for long, however, but turned his thoughts to the lady’s maid as he resumed his stroll. She was so beautiful—with those unusual emerald-green eyes, and silvery blond hair that gleamed in the sunlight like the finest satin, and her trim, high-bosomed figure—that he could not remember when he had been so struck. He promised himself he would be most assiduous in attending Alicia while Tony was away. Perhaps if he did so, he would be able to convince her lovely servant that she was wasting her talents maiding Lady Quentin.

  The Duke of Wrotherham was also thinking of Lady Quentin’s maid, and with much the same admiration for her beauty, but unlike Lord Andrews, he was not planning to seduce her if he could. Servants, no matter how lovely and curvaceous, were not his style.

  Meanwhile, Lady Quentin was asking Emily where she had met the duke, her voice a little stiff. “For it was obvious, Nelly, that he knew you. My, the Duke of Wrotherham! He has barely condescended to speak to me all the time I have been in town, but he had a smile for you.”

  Emily could see she was suspicious, and was quick to tell her how the duke had rescued her in the park, omitting any mention of his second rescue at Hartley Hall. She was glad when Lady Quentin turned the subject to the shopping she intended to do.

  What on earth is the matter with me? she wondered as Lady Quentin continued to chat. Why had her heart pounded and her mouth grown dry when the duke stood so close to her, and why had her breath been so shallow and unsteady?

  Was she attracted to him, even as arrogant and unattainable as he was? She determined to put him from her mind.

  Lady Quentin made some rather unusual purchases that afternoon that had Emily in a quandary. Why did the lady feel the need for a most severe waterproof cape? And what on earth possessed her to buy such stout boots? She had never put anything but the flimsiest sandals on her little feet. But Lady Quentin did not explain, so Emily accompanied her home none the wiser.

  The next day, Lady Quentin received a Lord and Lady Daggleston for tea. They remained together in the drawing room for some time, and as Lady Quentin went with them to the front hall as they were leaving, Emily heard the end of the conversation.

  “What fun it will be, Alicia,” Lady Daggleston said gaily. The lady was a plump
, breathless redhead whom Emily had often heard her mistress castigate as having more hair than wit, and her husband, Lord Daggleston, as not much better. “I am so glad you are coming with us. So touching!”

  “Happy to have your company, m’lady,” her husband agreed. “Perfectly safe, y’know. And, of course, everything will be first-class, for a Daggleston knows what’s what. To think we will hear the glorious news before anyone else. A hit! A palpable hit!”

  Emily was confused, but as Miss Quentin arrived shortly thereafter and went upstairs with Lady Quentin so she might change her clothes for a drive in the park with Lady Racklin, she did not discover what was going on. Lady Quentin did not mention the Daggleston’s visit to her sister-in-law. Miss Quentin was annoyed that she had arrived just as Alicia was going out.

  “I see you are still flitting about, Sister,” she said as she sat and watched Emily adjust a stunning bonnet of white straw covered with tiny pink flowers on Lady Quentin’s soft brown curls. “You will become known as a here-and-thereian! And that bonnet looks monstrous expensive, as well as being much too gay!”

  “It is becoming, is it not?” Lady Quentin agreed, turning her head so she might admire the effect. Miss Quentin sniffed, and she turned to her. “Do you think I should dress in sober gray, Bella, because Tony is in Belgium? I am sure he would wish me to carry on as usual. And how absurd when Napoleon has made no move to engage our forces.” She laughed and took up a matching pink parasol. “Come, what good would it do?”

  Miss Quentin drew in her breath sharply. “Of course there is no need for you to be forever weeping into your handkerchief, Alicia,” she said coldly. “But there is also no need for you to flit about as if you didn’t have a care in the world. Such behavior ill becomes Tony’s wife.”