Kind Ella and the Charming Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Barton, Bridget

  Violet could not settle, having more questions than she had answers for. She had talked it through repeatedly with William, whenever the two of them had a chance for a few moments’ private conversation.

  They had to be careful, so very careful not to be overheard in talking about their master or any member of his household. While she did not mistrust any member of the staff, she knew that they were all afraid of the Earl, and that there was not one among them who would ask any questions for Ella Winfield’s sake.

  As much as she wanted to find out if any servant had even seen her mistress leave, Violet knew that she could not risk it. If she asked a question and were found out for it, she would certainly be turned out of Dandridge Hall without a reference to her name, and she would be lost in the world, just as Ella had said she would be.

  And why had Ella said she would be so lost? Because she told Violet that she had no family. If she had no family at all, then surely the idea that she had gone to Scotland to visit them would be ridiculous.

  As each revelation made itself known to Violet, the more afraid she became that something dreadful had happened to Ella. She began to think that the poor woman had never made it out of the house at all, either to run for herself or to be sent away by her stepfather.

  She tried to hold onto the hope that Ella had made it, that she was even now at the home of Lady Brightwell as Violet had suggested. But she knew, she knew in her heart, that Ella would not leave her wondering. She would have found a way to get a message to her, that was certain.

  More than once, Violet had popped her head into the morning room, almost as if she expected to see Ella sitting there as she always was in the daytime. But each time, she was disappointed.

  On one such morning when she had sadly stood alone in the morning room, giving herself peace and quiet in which to think for just a few minutes, Violet heard the sound of gentle footsteps outside the room.

  She held her breath, wondering if somebody was about to come into the morning room and find her there. She had nothing but a duster in her pocket, and so she raced to the fireplace to make a charade of cleaning the mantle.

  When nobody came into the room, she crept silently back to the door and quietly pulled it open.

  Violet peered out and strained to listen. Hearing nothing, she crept out into the great hallway and was about to head back below stairs when something caught her eye.

  Disappearing around the corner at the top of the stairs was the Countess. It was clearly her, and Violet felt sure that it must have been her own quiet footsteps that she had heard outside the morning room door. And what was more, the Countess looked as if she were carrying a tray.

  But surely if she wanted something sent to her room, she would not be carrying it herself. Ariadne Belville was certainly not a woman who would even think of seeing to herself, not for a moment. She had been all demands and self-indulgence from the moment she had arrived at Dandridge Hall, every bit the spoiled Countess before she even had her feet under the dining room table.

  Violet stopped herself from disappearing into any more hateful thoughts about the woman she had come to despise in the last weeks. Instead, she nurtured her suspicion and determined, in an instant, to follow the Countess as quietly as she could.

  Keeping her duster out in her hand as a means of explaining her presence should she be caught anywhere she ought not to be, Violet hastened noiselessly upstairs, pausing at the top to see if there was any sign of the Countess.

  Ariadne Belville was at the far end of the corridor, just disappearing into the east wing when Violet saw her.

  Taking a deep breath, Violet quickly looked around before hastening on tiptoes, almost running, to follow her.

  When she came to the foot of an old staircase, she realized that it was the eastern access to the attic rooms. She had never been up there herself, but she knew that the stairs could lead nowhere else.

  Violet knew that she could not continue, being bound to come face-to-face with the Countess if she did.

  Instead, she would have to bide her time. She would return later when it seemed safe.

  When Violet heard the sound of a door closing and a key turning in a lock from far above her, she knew she could not waste another second. She turned on her heel and ran down the corridor as quietly as she could, peering around the wall at the top of the staircase and, seeing her way clear, hurtling down and hurrying back below stairs.

  It was almost three hours before she had an opportunity to speak to William alone and, by the time she did, Violet had had more than enough time to think about things.

  “What do you mean you think Miss Winfield is in the attic?” William whispered incredulously as the two of them pretended to tidy the boot room.

  “I followed the Countess up there today. She was carrying a tray, William, and I am sure it must have carried food. I know that Miss Winfield cannot have left this house, because if she had escaped, I believe she would have got word to me by now. I am sure that she is being kept prisoner here. Did you really believe the tale of Scottish relatives?”

  “Of course not, Violet,” William said and shook his head. “I didn’t believe it for a minute; you know I didn’t. For one thing, there is not a carriage or cart missing from the stables. And I know the stable hands have worked that one out for themselves; you can see in their faces. They will not say anything; nobody will say anything.”

  “I am so worried about her, William.”

  “And so am I. Miss Winfield is the only person at Dandridge Hall who has ever shown any of us any kindness. I would do anything to help her, Violet. More importantly, I would do anything to help you.”

  “I know you would, William. You have proved yourself time and time again already,” Violet said and popped her head out of the door to be sure that they were not being overheard.

  “But what are you to do now? What can be done?” William went on.

  “I think I need to go to the Duke.”

  “To the Duke of Hillington?” William said, and his eyes were wide with a mixture of concern and admiration. “But will you not struggle to even get past the door? I cannot think that any member of his household staff would allow you entrance.”

  “Perhaps you are right, but I must speak to him.”

  “What about that bridge afternoon? Tomorrow is Thursday, isn’t it? We must find some way to get you back to Lady Brightwell’s home. The butler might recognize you and at least tell his mistress that you are there.”

  “I cannot imagine that the Duke would be there, especially if he has already been told that Miss Winfield is away from home. I am sure that he only goes there now so that he might see her.”

  “Do you think he loves her?” William said in a strangely innocent way.

  “I think he would be a fool not to,” Violet said with some vehemence, making William smile. “But even if he does not love her yet, I am sure that he holds her in high regard. He has been so kind to her after all, hasn’t he?”

  “But if he is not there …?” William said and shrugged.

  “If he is not there, I can try to speak to Lady Brightwell. I will tell her everything I know and beg her to speak to the Duke, to see if he will help.”

  “But do you think that she’ll believe you?”

  “Perhaps not. But what if I had some proof?”

  “Proof of what?”

  “Proof that the Duke has been deceived all along. What if I found something in His Lordship’s study?”

  “But what? What can there possibly be to find?” William said and looked entirely confused. “I think you would be putting yourself at great risk for nothing. I think you would do better to just make your way to Lady Brightwell and hope for the best.”

  “But there might be something to be found,” Violet said, her little eyes twinkling.

  “Tell me,” William hissed and took his turn to look out of the door of the boot room to make sure that they were alone.

  “When Miss Winfield overheard His Lordshi
p and Henry Mercer discussing their plan to stop the Duke from making his way to Mortcombe Hall, Henry Mercer said that he would get a message to the Earl regarding the time and intended route that the Duke would take that night.”

  “And you think he would have written the message?”

  “I do. After all, he could hardly have sent that message by word-of-mouth, could he?”

  “I suppose not. He would have risked discovery if gossip like that had got out.”

  “And so, he must have sent a handwritten note. What if it is still there somewhere in His Lordship’s study? If I had that, I would have some proof.”

  “If his Lordship did not immediately toss it on the fire, that is.”

  “The fire is so rarely lit in the study, William. The Earl is too lazy a man to spend much time at paperwork, after all.”

  “I agree, Violet, but you must be careful what you say.” William peered out of the door again. “You really must.”

  “Yes, you are right, and I will be careful.”

  “So, you mean to go through with it? You mean to search our master’s study for evidence?”

  “I do because there is nothing else for it.” Violet smiled at him and reached up to place a hand on his cheek. “Don’t look so worried, William; I promise I’ll be careful.”

  “You surely don’t think I’m going to let you go alone, do you?”

  “William, we need not both be caught out in that room,” Violet said with great determination.

  “No, but I shall act as your lookout whilst you search. We should do this together, Violet.”

  “You really are so kind and sweet, William. What would I do without you?”

  “It is settled then, we’ll do it first thing in the morning when we are supposed to be about our chores. Really early before any of this lazy household awakes.”

  “Really, did you not just tell me that I ought to be careful what I said?” Violet said in a whisper.

  “Yes, I did.” William began to chuckle. “Now you would be better to leave me here in the boot room and make your way back to the kitchen. I’ll come out with some boots in a few minutes in the pretence that I am polishing.”

  “I can’t help thinking that you quite enjoy this sort of anxious excitement, William,” Violet said and smiled at him.

  “I must admit, I think I do.” He laughed gently. “But I really am determined to help Miss Winfield if it is still possible to help her.”

  “Then let us pray to God that it is,” Violet said before darting out of the room.

  Chapter 28

  “Scotland?” Lady Brightwell said and screwed up her lined but still-pretty face in confusion. “But the Baron was English. Of English parents and grandparents, I cannot think that Lord Winfield had any Scottish relations whatsoever. Are you quite sure that it is his relations that Ella has gone to and not her mother’s?”

  “I am quite sure,” Rufus said, careful to keep his voice low as the two of them sat taking tea on the edge of her drawing room.

  There seemed to be more people than ever in attendance at Lady Brightwell’s bridge afternoon, and he hoped that the hostess would not soon be called away. Something had been niggling at Rufus for days, and he knew that he must talk to somebody about it.

  He had initially determined to speak to Henry, but it seemed that his dear friend had taken his advice and had given himself some time off to recover from whatever was ailing him.

  “Because I cannot remember a great deal about Ariadne Winfield’s heritage. I must say that I have an idea that she was a governess when Lord Winfield first proposed. I might be making that up, but it really does seem to ring true. And so I suppose it is perfectly feasible that the new Countess of Dandridge might well have Scottish relations. After all, I remember nothing about her relations.”

  “I am most definite, Constance. Lady Dandridge told me herself that her daughter was specifically visiting her father’s relations.”

  “Well, perhaps he did have a wider family than I had imagined.”

  “But Constance, there is something else troubling me.”

  “I can see that, my dear,” she said in her customary kindly fashion. “You must tell me, really you must.”

  “I am certain that Ella told me herself that she did not have any other relations in this world to speak of.”

  “What a curious thing to say.”

  “Not in context, Constance. You see, I asked her why she did not leave Dandridge Hall?”

  “Leave?”

  “And she told me that she did not have any relations or anywhere else to go.”

  “But why should she wish to leave Dandridge Hall?”

  “Oh, Constance, I do wish I had confided in you sooner.”

  “Confided what? Is that poor dear child in some difficulties? You must tell me.”

  “She has been treated very badly by that family from the moment her mother married Ronald Belville. She has hardly been treated like a member of the family and is not even allowed to sit at the table and eat with them. I was there once for afternoon tea, and her mother sent her out of the room so that she may not be in my society at all. And I must tell you that that is what drew me to her in the first place.”

  “I had a feeling that you liked her, my dear. I know that I managed to get you here on that one, fortuitous afternoon of bridge, but I am perfectly well aware that you have only returned on Ella Winfield’s account.” Lady Brightwell smiled warmly. “But enough of that, why did Ella not tell me herself how she was suffering? I do not know what I would have done, but I would surely have found some way to help her.”

  “She told me herself that she would confide in you the moment she had an opportunity.”

  “If only she had managed to do so before she was sent to Scotland.”

  “But Constance, if she has no relations in Scotland, why on earth would she be there? That is what I cannot get out of my mind.”

  “But why would the Earl, even if he does not like her, be so determined to have her out of the way?”

  “Because he is so determined that I marry one of his appalling daughters that he does not want to risk having Ella there as a distraction. He has already accused her of trying to gain my attention; she has told as much. And she has only been allowed out in the daytime, to either go into town or to come here to your home. She is not allowed to attend any evening events with them, in case I am there, and I could see that the Earl was greatly troubled when he felt forced to have her in attendance at the dinner he invited me to. I cannot escape the idea that something else is going on, something that I cannot get to the bottom of. And worse still, I greatly fear never seeing her again.”

  “And that would pain you?” she said gently.

  “More than I could ever have realized.”

  “Then we must do our best to discover where she is. If she is in Scotland, we must find her. We must set whoever we can to make inquiries, discreet inquiries until she is found,” Constance said with determination.

  “Yes, I have decided to speak to Henry Mercer about it the moment he is well again.

  “Your attorney is unwell?”

  “He is either unwell or greatly distracted by some problem of his own. Either way, he is taking a little time to get over it.”

  “I see,” she said, and then her attention was drawn by the sudden appearance of her butler. “Yes?” she said and smiled at him.

  “There is a young woman to see you, My Lady. I have tried to tell her that you are currently engaged, but she quickly fell into a dreadful state.”

  “And who is the young lady?”

  “She said that her name is Violet and that she works at Dandridge Hall,” he said most apologetically, clearly wishing that he had been able to dismiss the young woman without bothering his mistress.

  “Take her into the library, would you? And tell her I shall be along in a moment,” Lady Brightwell said in a whisper, and her butler, somewhat bemused, mutely agreed with a nod before bowing and taking his leave.


  “This Violet must be one of Lord Dandridge’s servants, surely?” she whispered to Rufus.

  “I must come with you; I must hear what she has to say,” Rufus said desperately.

  “Yes, but we must not draw attention to ourselves. I will make my way out now quietly, and then, two minutes or so later, you follow along. You know where the library is,” she said, and without another word, she rose and hastily made her way out of the drawing room.