Chapter Thirteen
As soon as she stepped into the nursery, Chloe was set upon by a tearful, trembling Mary.
“Chloe, I need to speak with you,” the maid said in a rush, looking over to where the children played with a plump servant who was just barely out of childhood herself.
“Of course. Bette, would you mind staying a bit longer?” Chloe asked.
“No, miss. I enjoy the children. They’re a pleasant break from my chores.”
“Thank you.” She pulled her distraught Mary along with her into her bedroom and shut the door.
“Oh, Chloe, he sacked me!” Mary sobbed. “Someone must have told him I was in the stables. He warned me to stay away from there, stay away from Daniel, but I couldn’t! I love Daniel. How can I keep away from him? My heart breaks when a day goes by without seeing him.”
Chloe was horrified. “Of course you should not be forbidden to see your love. What did the duke say?”
“He called me in this morning. He was terribly angry. He said he knew I disobeyed him, and he dismissed me then and there.”
“But who told him you were seeing Daniel?”
“I don’t know.” Her face held a question, and Chloe reacted.
“You do not think that I told him about the other day when I saw you in the stables, do you?”
“No, no! I do not know what to think.”
“It must be someone who is jealous of you. Another servant, perhaps, who wants Daniel for herself and so would like you gone?”
Mary paused and sniffed. “Oh, what difference does it make? I shall be in disgrace to return home after being dismissed, and how will I ever find another position?”
Chloe grabbed her hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. “There is no disgrace, Mary. Never let him do that to you. Never let him take away your love. It is a wonderful thing.”
“Why would he do this?” Mary wailed, collapsing into sobs.
Chloe sighed. “I have no answers for you. The duke is a man whose soul is dying. He is good, I believe—a part of him is good. But that part is losing the battle. Perhaps because he can’t have love in his life, he wants to destroy it in others.”
Mary was so amazed, she stopped crying. “How do you know him so well?”
Chloe fetched a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her. “I know nothing about him. Nothing at all.”
Jareth was speaking to his mother—in fact he was in the middle of a sentence—when the pocket doors to the front parlor were thrown open.
Mouth still open, he turned to find Chloe standing in the doorway.
The bottom fell out of his heart. She looked magnificent. A deep blush stained her cheeks, her hair was in wild disarray about her face. Like Diana fresh from the hunt.
Dumbfounded, everyone in the room was silent.
“May I speak with you, your grace?” she said. Her voice had an edge.
He shut his mouth and frowned.
“Strathmere,” his mother hissed. A little reminder not to be led about by this slip of a thing. He didn’t even look at the duchess when he said, “It’s all right, Mother. I shall speak to Miss Chloe in the hall.” He tried to sound threatening. “After all, I know the matter must be of strident urgency to necessitate such a startling interruption.”
Chloe’s chin came up. “It is, I assure you.”
His mother’s glare of displeasure burned into his back as he stepped outside. “Shall we?” he asked Chloe, leading her across the hallway and into the library.
The heavy oak door had just clicked shut when she was upon him.
“How dare you!”
“Pardon me?” he asked, his voice lowering to convey his ire. “Do keep your head, Miss Chloe. You have a tendency to forget to whom you are talking.”
“A man with a bloated sense of his own self-importance, that is who! I cannot believe you have done this terrible thing.”
“I should ask what terrible thing I’ve done, but you see, I hardly care.”
“Yes,” she snapped with a wry twist of her mouth. “That is precisely what is wrong in this household. You do not care about anything or anyone save yourself and your whims.”
“Miss Chloe,” he began, struggling with the urge to shout, “if anyone else spoke to me in this manner, I would dismiss them without another word.”
“Ah, your answer to all your problems with your staff. Dismiss people if they displease you. My goodness, I think you will be toasting your own bread in the morning and making your own bed if you keep it up at this rate.”
“Is that what this is all about? You are angry because I dismissed a maid?”
“That maid has a name. It is Mary Curran. She also has a life beyond fetching your slippers and wiping the dust from your fine furniture. She has a family who depends on her income to make ends meet. She has a mother and a father who are proud of her, or were before you sent her home in disgrace. She had plans and dreams for her life, and yes, monsieur, it is true that she has a love. A nice gentleman, one of your grooms, a man named Daniel. Why this offends you so greatly, I cannot imagine, but it seems perfectly natural that a young woman and a young man would be attracted to each other, and therefore seek each other’s company in their free moments.”
“I need not explain myself to you,” he said with a flick of his wrist, and began to walk away. She stepped in front of him to block his path.
“No, you need no one, do you, your grace? You are completely self-contained, secure in the smug knowledge that you are superior in every way to we simple folk of the lower classes. Why, you even have the right to dictate our lives.”
“I cannot have my servants sneaking off on trysts when they should be about their appointed duties! Or do you suggest I create Strathmere as a love nest, a pretty retreat for servants who wish to spend time with their beloveds?”
“Why do you mock love?” she demanded. “Is it because you have had so little of it in your life?”
He looked appalled. “You don’t know what you are saying. I never lacked for love.”
“Then your parents and mentors cannot be blamed. Was it a woman, then, who rejected you and so soured you on any affaire de coeur?”
He snarled at her, baring his teeth in a feral grimace. “I simply dismissed the girl because she was exercising poor judgment. And this might come as a shock to you, Miss Chloe, but I don’t require your permission to do it.”
“Yes, you are the Duke of Strathmere. You answer to no authority other than the king himself, so far above the rest of us are you.”
“Your French idealism is showing. Shall you gather a mob and haul me to a guillotine?”
Chloe’s spine went rigid. “I am not proud of the barbarism of the revolution, but I am most pleased with the result. We are a free country where no man is held prisoner by another because of his station.”
“So you wish to reform me?”
Her hands had curled into fists at her sides, and she jammed them now on her hips. “You are already being reformed, right out of your humanity. The days spent with your new title bring you closer and closer to this—a thoughtless brute who has given no thought to the consequences of your actions. Servants, your grace, may not count for anything to you, but they are human, equipped with all the emotion and power of thought you yourself possess. Your disregard for them speaks ill of you.”
She took a step back, seeming relaxed after her tirade. “I would have thought you already knew that,” she added. “But they have been working on you. You are a credit to the aristocracy. But you are becoming a small person—small of heart and small of mind. It is the price you pay for your exalted station.” She shook her head. “What a terrible shame.”
He was speechless after that, mostly because it was true. It hit him like a blow, stunning him while she made a fabulous whirl and stalked out of the room. It was like a double blow, her words and then that lovely gracefulness.
When she had gone, he paced about the room. He hated himself for allowing her wo
rds to gather in his brain. What did it matter what his nieces’ governess’s opinion of him was? Strange that it annoyed him.
Because Chloe’s opinion mattered a great deal to him. That he knew as he went back into the parlor. But he didn’t like it.
His mother was waiting, her face lined with tension. “May I be so presumptuous as to inquire what that little scene was about, Strathmere?”
He hated being called that by her. It sounded so formal, so limiting, as if all he was to anyone anymore was the duke. “No, Mother, you may not.” He sat down and made no pretense of politeness.
Narrowing her eyes, she said, “I hope you are not faltering in your station. You allow that woman too much latitude.”
The irony didn’t escape him. One woman just berated him for taking his position and title too seriously, and here was another denouncing him for not taking it seriously enough. He sighed.
“Your father or your brother would never have permitted a servant to speak to them in that insolent and forward manner, no matter what the crisis.”
Jareth rubbed his temple. “I know what is expected of me.”
The duchess looked doubtful. “You haven’t been demonstrating it of late. I tell you, Strathmere, it has not escaped others’ notice, as well. Lady Rathford has questioned your intentions toward Helena in light of your delay.”
“They have complaint against me, as well. Devil take it, Mother—why not? Let’s bring up the housekeeper and butler and they, too, can regale me of my failings.”
“You are being impertinent to your mother, and even a duke may not do that. Now, you have a duty to the duchy to marry.”
“Yes, my duty.” It always came down to that.
“When the solicitors return next Monday, you may wish to speak with them about a marriage contract. I believe Lord Rathford is anxious to settle on the matter with you.”
“Will you excuse me?”
“But where are you going? We have many other things to discuss.”
He didn’t answer. On his way out of the room, he almost ran into Gerald, who was coming in. The duchess saw him and called, “Come to me, Gerald. My son has abandoned me, but your company is amusing. We shall play whist. It will keep me occupied until Strathmere is feeling better. It seems that thief last night got the best of him.”
The tone, more than the words, was scathing. Gerald looked at Jareth and hiked up his brows as if to convey the silent message, Interesting.
Jareth left him, filled with disgust at the two of them, both schemers.
He was certain that if either one of them could dispossess him of his title, they just might do it, each for their own reasons.
And then he thought if there was a way to do it—leaving him alive, of course, and more important free—he might just allow it.
Chapter Fourteen
Sipping hot chocolate in the small informal parlor after taking the children for a romp in the snow, Chloe sat with her thawing charges. Rebeccah was in a happy mood from their outdoor play and Sarah smiled brightly, her cheeks still wind-stung and her lips just as red.
Chloe was telling them a story, one she had grown up with. The children sat in rapt attention as she explained how the wicked witch kept the poor beauty locked in a tower, using her hair as a rope to climb up to visit her but never allowing her to see another human being. She had just gotten to the point of the prince stumbling upon the girl, when a small knock sounded at the door.
Dr. Esterhaus peeked his head in. “Ah, I was told you were in here.” He smiled and stepped inside.
This was the physician who had been attending the children since the accident. Chloe was used to his frequent visits just after the tragedy, but it had been months since he had been summoned.
“A pleasure to see you, Doctor,” she said pleasantly. “Is this a social call? We are all in good health, as you see.”
“Indeed, everyone is looking fine.” He came to sit on a settee, not disguising his interest in the children, who stared back at him with bald trepidation on their faces.
“Rebeccah, Sarah, this is Dr. Esterhaus. You remember him, do you not?”
Rebeccah remembered her manners. “How do you do, sir?”
Dr. Esterhaus was pleased. “I am well, thank you.” He looked up at Chloe and beamed. “Such a clever child.”
Chloe almost laughed, but kept her counsel. “Oh yes, our Rebeccah is clever.”
“And you, little lady,” the doctor said, leaning over to peer into Sarah’s face. Sarah frowned back and withdrew a bit. “Still not speaking?”
“Non, monsieur,” Chloe said, anxious that he was alarming the child.
“Not a sound at all?” He moved in closer.
Chloe came to her feet and knelt before the child, taking her little hand in both of hers. “She is unchanged from your last examination, sir.”
He rolled his eyes to Rebeccah. “And…er…the other problem. It has not resolved itself…the one…you know…at night.”
He was about as subtle as a bull. Chloe rushed to assure him all circumstances were unchanged, lest he blurt out some disturbing information that would make matters worse.
“I would like to examine the girls more closely, Miss Pesserat.”
“Certainement,” she said reluctantly. It was not her place to forbid him, though she would have liked to. The children were nervous, and her protective instincts were at full alert.
While she was waiting in the hall with Sarah and the doctor was in with Rebeccah, Chloe pondered the reason for his visit after all this time. There had been no complaint that she was aware of regarding the children, nothing to prompt the visit out of the blue.
When it was Sarah’s turn, Rebeccah came to sit next to her on the burgundy upholstered chairs. “Everything all right, chérie?”
“Yes, Miss Chloe,” Rebeccah answered. Her brow furrowed. “Why did he ask me all those questions?”
“What questions, ma petite?”
“About my sleeping and the dreams I have. I don’t remember any dreams. He asked about Mama and Papa. If I missed them. That was silly, wasn’t it?”
Chloe felt her stomach churn. “Oui, ma chérie, it was très silly. Pay him no mind.”
“It was strange to have someone ask about them,” Rebeccah stated with a thoughtful look. “I like talking about Mama and Papa. Sometimes if I don’t think about them for a long time, I feel bad. It’s nice remembering them.”
“Of course, you must always remember them in your heart. That way, they will always be with you.”
Rebeccah suddenly smiled. “Do you think Mama and Papa can see us from heaven?”
“I am sure of it,” Chloe replied with an answering smile.
Rebeccah’s eyes drifted upward. “I think they are with the angels. That is what Mama told us happened to Grandfather when he died. She said he went to live with the angels and I think that is where they are, too.”
“Most assuredly. That is how they can watch over you best, to see you are safe and no harm will ever come to you, and to love you, even from heaven, so that you will never be alone.”
Rebeccah’s smile widened. Suddenly, she flung herself at Chloe, wrapping her thin arms about her waist. “Oh, Miss Chloe, that sounds wonderful! I shall ever be safe, I know I will, with Mama and Papa watching over me, and you here, too. You must never go away.”
The plea struck a bitter chord. “I shall endeavor never to, chérie.”
The door opened and the doctor came out. Sarah hurried toward Chloe and crawled up into her lap without interfering with Rebeccah’s embrace.
“Thank you, Miss Pesserat. That will be all,” the doctor said. Chloe stood, disengaging Rebeccah, but Sarah wouldn’t be separated. She ended up carrying her upstairs.
The visit was disturbing for all of them. Sarah stayed curled up on Chloe’s lap for the rest of the day and evening, and Rebeccah needed Chloe’s attention constantly to look at a drawing or watch her newly learned skills at skipping. Chloe tried to be attentive, but her
mind raced.
There was, she had decided, only one reason for Dr. Esterhaus to visit—to answer the question as to whether or not she could be dismissed without detrimental effect on the children.
When the girls were asleep, she entered her room and sat down at the small table. From a drawer, she drew out a clean sheet of paper and a quill.
Mon cher père, she began, writing in French. I believe I may be coming home soon, perhaps for good.
What amazed her was that these words, ones that, at times, she had longed to be able to say, filled her with such desolation and loss that she felt the sting of tears in her eyes. She blinked them away and set about to complete the letter.
Jareth passed the doctor a freshly poured whiskey and took the chair opposite him. “How do you find my nieces, sir?” he queried.
“Satisfactory. Certainly no worse. Unfortunately, not much improved, as you know.”
“Yes, I had suspected as much.”
“Do not be discouraged, your grace. Children are amazingly resilient. I have a good deal of experience with them, and I can tell you their progress is often erratic. One might see no visible sign of improvement for months, and then suddenly the child snaps into normalcy.” He chuckled. “I remember one fellow who began walking after a prolonged injury, and when his parents made a huge fuss over him, he behaved as if he were utterly bewildered as to why the adults were amazed. It seemed perfectly natural to him, you see.”
“Do you foresee that happening to Sarah? That she will regain her ability to speak in this sudden manner you’ve described?”
“It may, it may. I can make no promises, you understand.”
“Obviously, Doctor. I am not looking for guarantees. Just a general idea of what is in the realm of possibility.”
“Then, yes, a recovery of that sort is indeed possible.”
“I see. And what of Rebeccah’s night terrors? Do you have any insights as to how those can be gotten rid of?”
“The child knows nothing of these in her waking state. This is good. However, when she is in the throes of one of these bouts, it is best to keep her asleep. The conventional wisdom on these things has it that it would be quite detrimental to wake her. The terror of finding themselves face-to-face with their nocturnal fears will be utterly traumatizing and may cause irreparable harm.”
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