Loving a Fearless Duchess

by Abigail Agar

“Right away, My Lady,” Cook said then went to her book and lifted out the paper for tonight’s menu.

  She walked over to Mirabelle and handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” Mirabelle said, taking the menu with gloved hands.

  Penelope came up behind her. “Mirabelle, do you have any questions for Cook?”

  Mirabelle shook her head and handed the menu back to Cook. She turned and fled the kitchen.

  Penelope mouthed ‘thank you’ to Cook then left. She found Mirabelle in the hall. “Let’s go to the parlour, shall we?”

  Cecilia was sitting by the window doing needlework when Penelope and Mirabelle entered.

  Mirabelle sat but Penelope couldn’t. She walked around the room twirling in her skirts and regaling her mother with the wonderful performance Mirabelle put on in the kitchen.

  “Mother, she was splendid. Better than I would have guessed. I am so proud. Oh, and Mother, I keep forgetting, but Mirabelle likes to be called Mira. Isn’t that a beautiful name?”

  Cecilia smiled then turned to Mira. “Tell me how you feel dear.”

  Mira looked at her gloved hands and, in a low voice said, “It was fine.”

  Cecilia said, “Pardon, Mira? I think my hearing is going. I couldn’t quite catch what you said.”

  Mira looked at her ear, something Penelope figured she must have learned to do so she wouldn’t have to look people in the eyes.

  “It was fine,” she said louder.

  “Oh, that’s good dear,” Cecilia said then went back to her embroidery.

  Penelope sat next to Mira and told her how well she did. She asked her how it felt.

  “Fine, thank you,” she said.

  “Good. Would you like to go for a walk? I think we should take a break before we start again.”

  Mira nodded.

  Thomas helped them with their wraps, and they put on their bonnets. Penelope walked toward a favourite meadow explaining to Mira that she liked the wildflowers there.

  Penelope circled her arm around Mira’s and told her a story about how she and Edward tried to play with a ball in the meadow but had too much trouble finding the ball when it landed on the ground because the wildflowers were two feet high.

  They both laughed. Mira’s laugh was so light and lovely, like wind chimes Penelope once heard made from glass. Then Mira stopped short, and Penelope bounced back to her having continued to walk arm in arm.

  “What is it, Mira?”

  Mira looked at her gloved hands then wouldn’t move. Penelope looked up to see Edward and Sir Jeffrey approaching.

  She looked over at Mira. “Relax. You don’t need to do anything.”

  “Hello, gentlemen. I trust you have had a productive day?” Penelope said as she curtsied. Mira curtsied also.

  After bowing, Sir Jeffrey said, “These lands are beautiful. Your brother has some work ahead of him, but we can make him a gentleman farmer.”

  “Before Sir Jeffrey, I didn’t know where to put the wheat from the sheep. But I’m learning. How are you ladies? It’s a beautiful day for a walk.”

  Penelope nodded. “It is, Edward. I was just telling Mira about our sad attempts to play ball in this meadow.”

  Edward laughed. “Be careful, there may be a stray ball or two still hiding in the high grasses.”

  Penelope could see out of the corner of her eye that Mira was still rigid, staring at her hands.

  “Well, gentlemen, if you will excuse us, we are not quite through enjoying our afternoon walk.”

  After a few curtsies and bows, the ladies walked on.

  “I think I’ll pick some of these flowers, Mira. Would you help?”

  Mira nodded, and Penelope stood still. “Can we try something, Mira? Could you say ‘yes’ when I ask you to help?”

  Mira nodded and said, “Yes.”

  Penelope smiled. “Thank you, Mira.”

  Penelope realized from the way she was talking with no one answering her that she could talk to a stone wall. She supposed she always had the ability, but now she knew for sure. She and Mira picked flowers, and every once in a while, Penelope told a silly joke to make sure someone besides the stone wall was listening. She would hear Mira’s angelic laugh and be satisfied.

  “Let’s head back to the house?” Penelope asked.

  Mira nodded.

  “Uh, uh, uh. Say ‘yes,’ don’t nod,” Penelope said, shaking a finger at Mira.

  “Yes,” Mira said with a smile.

  One word at a time, Penelope thought.

  *****

  Edward dismounted and knocked on the cottage door. Cara answered.

  She opened the door wide and curtsied. “My Lord,” she said. “Tea?”

  He entered. “No, thank you, Cara. Please forgive me for dropping in. I heard you came to see me when I was out. I am most anxious to hear how your time with your aunt went.”

  “Please have a seat, My Lord. My aunt gave me two plants that should be stronger and show a better result than we’ve seen with lemongrass. She took me into the woods, so I’ll be able to find as much as needed.

  “The first is Valerian. It is a strong stress reliever and causes the user to experience calm. The other is Cherry Plum, and it calms vicious rages. It is very strong, and I recommend that if we use it, we are careful of how much we give him. We’ll start low and increase while observing him.”

  Edward sat up and asked, “Can they be combined?”

  *****

  “I pushed her a lot today, so if you want to ask her anything, keep it to a ‘yes’ or ‘no’ question.”

  “Seriously, Penelope? She doesn’t talk at all?”

  “Edward, she is fully capable of talking, she’s just self-conscious and talking draws attention to oneself.”

  Penelope and Edward went into the parlour. Cecilia, Sir Jeffrey, and Mira were all there.

  All but Cecilia rose, the ladies curtsied, and the gentlemen bowed. Edward sat next to his mother.

  Cecilia smiled at him. “So tell us all, Edward. Has Sir Jeffrey given you a green thumb?

  Edward smiled. “Hardly, Mother. If I learned anything today, it was that I have a lot to learn.”

  *****

  “That’s a good start, my boy.”

  Edward turned to Cecilia; we’ll go out again tomorrow after Sir Jeffrey shows me his plans. If we missed anything today, we’ll be sure to catch it tomorrow.”

  Cecilia looked up. “Edward, I don’t want you to take on too much all at once. I went to the village today to visit with some of my old friends. The main street, the cottages, everything looks so much better. The villagers are pleased at the attention to their needs. You’ve done so much in such a short time. Pace yourself, so you don’t wear yourself out.”

  Edward rolled his eyes, “Yes, Mother.”

  “If I may, Lady Cecilia,” Sir Jeffrey said, “I have recommended planting on one field every year. Each field has its own personality if you will, and Edward will need to learn them all to match the land with the crop. It takes time.”

  “Enough about crops,” Edward said. “Did you ladies have a nice day?”

  Penelope answered, “Yes.” She looked at Mira.

  Mira answered, “Yes,” barely audible, but she spoke.

  Edward looked at her and smiled in encouragement. She really was a cute, little thing. He hoped she would be able to make some progress. If anyone could help build her self-confidence, it was Penelope.

  After a week of consulting, Sir Jeffrey left for London. Edward was left with a list of jobs to do, courtesy of Sir Jeffrey. He was focused on his work, to the point where he barely noticed anything around him.

  He ordered two of the ploughs Sir Jeffrey recommended, and he bought two workhorses for each plough. He was eager to receive this modern equipment. He also ordered seed.

  Edward walked the fields with the farmers in the village. So many of the fields were fallow and had been for so long that the farmers were not utilized or were under-utilized. Edward found satisfaction in
their newfound excitement.

  In the parlour before dinner, Edward would tell the ladies of his day and the progress he made. There was companionable talk amongst them, and Penelope noticed Mira contributed to the conversation more as time went by, and she felt more comfortable. Still, when she was nervous, she stared down at her gloved hands.

  “Hey, sis. I saw a few plants I don’t recognize in the woods out back. Can I show them to you?”

  Once outside of the house, Penelope turned to Edward, “What am I really doing out here?”

  Edward laughed. “Obvious? I want to talk with you about Mira. Now that she is talking, it is clear she’s very nice, she’s interesting, and she’s intelligent.”

  “But?” Penelope asked.

  “But, what is her problem? I mean, she has a lot going for her, and she should do fine in the marriage mart.”

  “Well, first of all, I’m happy you saw through everything to see how nice she is.

  “She never takes off her gloves. When she came to tea, she said her hands were disfigured. She said nothing else. Her hands have made her self-conscious which has made her shy. I know nothing else, but I know there is more to the story.”

  Edward stopped walking and turned to Penelope. “More to the story? Like what?”

  “Like what happened to her hands. Like who did it to her. Like how old was she when her hands were disfigured.”

  “You think it was from punishment? Her father, maybe? Not since birth? Well, you’ll get to it, I’m sure.”

  Penelope and Mira began to take walks every day, weather permitting. Penelope knew she was making progress with Mira – she talked a little more, unveiling pieces of herself bit by small bit.

  Mira reminded Penelope of herself. Self-conscious, afraid to open herself up to others, including Penelope.

  “Mira, did you ever hear how I got my scar?”

  They were walking on a beautiful stretch of meadow near the river. Penelope could hear the river noisily rushing over the rocks in direct opposition to the quiet where they stood.

  “No, I didn’t,” Mira said quietly.

  “Well, I have a cousin; he’s locked up because he is a danger, who tried to kill me by pushing me off a cliff into jagged rocks. I was lucky to be found and recover.

  “Nash helped me walk around without shame for something I didn’t do. Now, I hardly notice when strangers look or comment loud enough for me to hear.

  “I’m telling you this because I think if you wanted to, you could become less self-conscious about your hands.”

  Mira’s head swiveled around to Penelope. “My hands? How did you know there is something wrong with my hands?”

  “When you came to tea, your mother vaguely mentioned them. You never take your gloves off, even during times when it isn’t necessary to wear them. And you look down at your gloves most of the time. Am I right?”

  Mira nodded slowly but didn’t offer an explanation. Penelope understood. She felt it was no one’s business to know how she came about her problem. Penelope sighed. She may never know.

  Penelope gave Mira a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’ve had my scar for six years, and I know about curiosity. I was always dealing with it, but Nash has helped me to handle it more gracefully. I will never ask you about it. However, I’m here for you if you ever want to talk.”

  *****

  Chapter 31

  Mira seemed nervous when she and Penelope went for their daily walk a few days later. Penelope thought Mira had made great strides in overcoming her self-consciousness. She interacted with the servants in a friendly, open way that was reciprocated. She initiated conversations and stayed in the parlour talking with the Balfours long after she had normally retired for the evening.

  Penelope thought it only natural. She didn’t think much about her scar in the company of friends and family. She wasn’t self-conscious at all. Mira was becoming comfortable around Penelope’s family. It must be the same for her.

  “Mira, is there anything I can do for you? You seem a little out of sorts today,” Penelope said, her hand gently on Mira’s arm.

  Mira shook her head and looked down at the ground. “No, it’s nothing, I’m sure.”

  Penelope stopped walking. “It doesn’t seem like nothing. You can trust me, Mira. No matter what it is I’ll help you, or I’ll just be here to listen. Whatever you need.

  “Let’s sit,” Penelope said, pointing to a tree a short walk away.

  Mira adjusted herself on the ground until she was facing Penelope. She took her hands into Penelope’s hands. From the stricken look on Mira’s face, Penelope knew whatever Mira had to say was serious.

  “Since I was a little girl until the day my father died, I feared him. He wanted me to be perfect, and when I did something he thought was wrong, he would boil water in a big pot, put on his thick gloves, grab me by the wrists, and hold my hands in the water until he thought I suffered enough.

  “I never knew what I did wrong. He wouldn’t tell me. He said I should know without him having to tell me. The irony was, the more punishment I got for being imperfect, the more imperfect I became. My hands are an angry, discoloured mess. I thank God they still work.

  “That isn’t really what I wanted you to know. But for you to understand what I need to tell you, you need to understand something first.

  “I knew when my father was coming for me. It would pop into my mind and clench tight on my brain so there was no mistaking it. And it was always, always true. Every time, it was true.

  “Something has popped into my mind. Something terrible. But I don’t see enough of it to explain it all. There is to be a fire. A house fire. I can’t picture where in the house or the time of day. I should see daylight or darkness, but I cannot.”

  Mira squeezed Penelope’s hands. “I wish I had more, but I don’t.” She shrugged.

  “Can you see the area of the house to describe it?” Penelope asked.

  Mira shook her head, “No, but I haven’t been in every room of the house. It could be anywhere.”

  “The whole house or a part of it?”

  Mira looked into Penelope’s eyes. “A part of it.”

  “Does that part of the house burn to the ground? Are people stuck inside?”

  Mira closed her eyes for a moment, probably trying to picture the scene again. Penelope waited silently, trying to keep from breaking her concentration.

  “Not to the ground. It’s hectic inside. Many people running around trying to put the fire out. It takes them a while, but they manage to do it. But something is very wrong,” she said quietly. Then she lifted her head. “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Wrong? Is the roof going to cave in?”

  Mira squeezed her hands again. “There is nothing more, Penelope. I’m sorry.”

  “Just one more question, Mira. When does this happen? This week? This month?”

  “Soon.”

  *****

  Penelope entered the house and went straight into Edward’s office. She told him Mira’s vision, and he called Mira into his office to hear it for himself. She spoke with a conviction in her voice he had never heard from her.

  The three of them walked every room in the house, looking for a room that looked familiar to Mira. None did. Back in his office, he called in every footman he had to take all but one candle out of every room and to make sure there was a screen in front of every fireplace.

  Maybe, he eliminated the cause of a fire so the vision wouldn’t come true. Maybe not. He ordered buckets of water to be placed in every room to douse flames should they start. And he had a footman check every room in a continuous loop through the day and night.

  Edward was comfortable he had done just about everything he could to keep his house and the people under its roof intact.

  *****

  Henry knew the cook was putting something in his food. He didn’t care. He couldn’t stop it, anyway. The problem was, whatever it was, was keeping him awake.

  It was becoming a regular patt
ern for him. First, give up trying to sleep in the middle of the night. Second, go to the parlour, light a fire in the fireplace, place lit candelabra on the end table and read.

  His guards gave him space. One stood near the door, the other about six feet away. He could read in peace and then, in a couple of hours, he could go back to bed and sleep.

  One night, he looked down at his book turning the pages at intervals but thinking of a plan to escape. It was brilliant because it was simple.

  For three nights, he went to the parlour and pretended to read but moved his eyes in every direction of the room. On the fourth night, he struck.

  Earlier in the day, Henry had left his book near the windows adorned with heavy drapes. After lighting his candelabra, Henry walked casually to where the book was sitting on the table next to the window and bent over to pick it up.

  Instead, he moved the candelabra behind the curtain, holding it to the fabric until a wide swath of the curtain was on fire. His guards were on him by then, but they had the dilemma of holding onto Henry or dousing the fire.

  Given every door and window was locked, so Henry couldn’t go anywhere, they decided to douse the fire and wake the house. Henry slowly backed out of the room and into the shadows of the foyer.

  When Minton ran into the parlour, one of the guards yelled at him to open the front door and get everyone out of the house. Minton did as asked.

  And that is how Henry escaped the dower house.

  The main house was alerted to the fire, and every footman and stable boy was sent down to help. Edward dressed and prepared to leave, but not before putting a guard on Cecilia and Penelope’s door. No one had to tell him Henry escaped.

  By eight in the morning, the fire was out. The parlour was a charred and smelly mess, and Edward was questioning the guards. He couldn’t really fault them for what happened. Everyone in the house did the right thing. Everyone except Henry.

  Edward gathered the guards, the footmen, the inside and outside male servants except for Thomas and Minton and every villager who wanted to join for a mission to catch Henry. He couldn’t have gone far without a horse – Edward was sure none were missing. And Henry wasn’t one to outwit that many people.

  On horses, circling the house, the men inched away from the structure to the open fields looking for footprints.