The duchess had the same raven hair as her brother. Hugh’s eyes were larger and fringed with thick black lashes, but the same lively intelligence sparkled in his sister’s attractive eyes. She petted the small dog on her knee like a child. The King Charles spaniel, so named by King Charles himself, stared at Viola, resentment in its poppy eyes.
“My dear Nanny Bryant,” the duchess cried. “How good it is to see you. Come and sit by me. So this is Miss Viola.” She pointed to the ribbon-back chair placed in front of them as if for an inquisition. “Please sit,” she said briskly.
She was to be questioned. Well she expected no less. Viola sank onto the hard chair, her back as straight as a poker. She raised her chin.
The duchess’s gaze swept over her. “Now, I wish you to tell me the whole.”
Viola swallowed, wishing they would serve tea. Her throat was horribly dry. “The whole, Your Grace?”
“Everything you remember from the first moment you came to Vale Park. Then Nanny shall give me her version of events.”
Viola almost sighed. She was judged before she spoke. And the way she was found would hardly sway the Duchess’ opinion in her favor.
She explained what she could, how frustrated she was not to remember, and expressing her heartfelt thanks for the duke’s generosity.
“I would expect no less of my brother, Miss Viola,” the duchess said. “But there have been times when some might think to gain from his benevolence.”
“They might try, Your Grace, but I doubt the duke would succumb,” Viola said. “He is hardly a fool.”
Viola hated being in such a position but the fault was hers.
She had yet to learn humility, it seemed.
The duke and duchess stared at her. There followed a strained silence until Nanny rushed in to fill the void, praising Viola’s knowledge of Latin and Ancient Greek.
“…and Viola plays the pianoforte skillfully.” Nanny’s anxious voice faded away.
“Thank you, Nanny, dear,” the duchess said. “You have obviously grown fond of Miss Viola.” She turned her attention back to Viola. “You have said little in your own defense. Tell me, why do you think you were dressed in that extraordinary fashion?”
Viola flushed. “I’ve come to believe I was escaping from something or someone, Your Grace.”
The Duchess’ eyes gleamed. “From danger?”
“My dreams give a hint of it, but are frustratingly scrambled. I confess, I am impatient to learn the truth. I pray it will become clearer to me soon, and I’ll be able to piece it all together.” She clutched her hands in her lap. “I can then return home. I hate being a burden.”
“Are you a burden, I wonder,” Her Grace said, thoughtfully. “You have been blessed with exceptionally good looks.”
Viola flushed. Was the duchess hinting at something clandestine between Hugh and her? She felt ashamed, if thought equaled deed she should be condemned.
The duchess fed bits of the tiny sandwiches and almond cakes to her dog as she directed her questions to Viola. “Nanny says you like to read. What are your favorite books?” Although Viola’s nerves had become quite frayed, she endeavored to answer as best she could, while the duchess nodded.
“I confess to being a little envious, Miss Viola,” Her Grace concluded. “This has been quite an escapade. But I see you have been brought to Point Non Plus.”
The Duke of Whitcombe, who had said little up until this point, cleared his throat. “Quite so, quite so.”
He was a thin, grey-haired man, who obviously adored his vivacious wife, for his eyes seldom wavered from her face. In strong contrast to the duchess, who radiated energy, he was particularly languid. Viola was sure his effete was natural and not a fashionable pose. The duchess took center stage and the whole party revolved around her.
Viola was lost for words. In the duchess’ eyes, her appalling predicament was an exciting adventure.
“You cannot remain overlong at Vale Park, of course,” the duchess said.
“I am sorely aware of it, Your Grace,” Viola said, swallowing hard. She had thought of little else these past weeks. “As my memory has continued to fail me, I am considering other avenues. Should I be able to remain here until I can secure a position as a governess, I shall be very grateful.”
“You would take a governess position?” The Duchess’ dark eyes pierced into hers.
“I have heard nothing of this,” Nanny said.
“It’s a useful occupation, Your Grace,” Viola said.
“We shall see you and Nanny at the ball,” the duchess said, not wishing to discuss the merits or otherwise of governesses.
This was a command and not up for debate. Viola sensed few people would attempt to argue the point with her. “I confess to being surprised when my brother invited you, Miss Viola.”
”As was I.” Viola, hoping to be given a chance to refuse.
“I daresay he has his reasons,” the duchess said. “Shall we take tea?”
When they returned to the cottage, Nanny began to prepare dinner. Viola went to help, determined to continue the conversation begun with the duchess. She smoothed her dress and tucked an errant curl in place. There was no time like the present. Nanny was busy with one of their simple, tasty meals.
Becky chopped fresh herbs and vegetables from the garden, while Nanny, covered in flour up to her elbows, rolled out some pastry for a pudding.
Viola sat beside her at the big, scrubbed table. “May I help?”
“Yes, my dear. You can take over chopping those herbs while Becky goes to pick some gooseberries.”
Picking up the knife, Viola chopped with furious energy as the fresh smell of parsley, rosemary and sage filled the room. She rushed into her prepared speech. “Nanny, as I mentioned to the duchess, I plan to seek a governess position. I am confident I could perform those duties well. And I like children very much.” She hurried on, as Nanny frowned. “I was hoping you would help me. With your knowledge, you could advise me on what my duties may be, and what my employers would expect of me.”
“I was surprised, Viola.” Nanny gave the dough a final pat.
She placed it to one side and slowly wiped her hands on a cloth, as if she gave careful thought to her words. “We know nothing of your life before you came to us, it’s true. But I feel you were destined for better things than service. You must be patient.” She squeezed Viola’s hand and looked at her fondly. “I would be delighted to have you stay here with me, but you should have a more fulfilling life than this, or that of a governess. You’re not helping your recovery with this worry, you know. Promise me you will put it out of your mind for now.”
“But, as the duchess pointed out. I cannot remain here. Please tell me, Nanny.”
“Well then, reading and good penmanship, scripture, and enough mathematics to manage household accounts and balance their budget, French, drawing, watercolor, music, both instrumental and vocal, dancing of course, and how to embroider and perform neat stitches. Those are the important skills a young lady of birth is expected to excel in.”
“Is that all?” Viola asked, widening her eyes.
“As a general rule. To be fair, there are those who wish their daughters better taught. They might be encouraged to learn Spanish, Latin, politics, history and a smattering of botany and geography, but generally, as well as her dowry; a man seeks a wife who will be a social asset to him. A woman is expected to contribute to conversation and aid her husband without eclipsing him with her superior knowledge. But women need many skills, especially, if they are widowed and must manage an estate.” She gave a shake of her head.
One hopes that such things will improve in time. It’s unusual for girls to be educated as comprehensively as you have been, Viola. As well as theology and philosophy, all these subjects you have acquired to a highly skilled level, and are most able to teach. But it can be a miserable life. I trust you will be patient.”
“I will try, Nanny.” Viola was determined to proceed with her plans.
Perhaps the duchess could suggest someone. She most likely thought her a scandalous impostor and was obviously keen to see Viola gone.
The duchess would not leave Vale Park until she did. Viola was convinced of it. She firmed her lips in frustration.
Chapter Ten
Hugh rode up on his handsome chestnut as Viola strolled through Nanny’s garden, a basket filled with vegetables and flowers over her arm. His groom followed with Molly trailing behind on a lead.
Hugh bowed from his horse. “You are looking well, Miss Viola. Would you care to join me?”
As his strong hands and powerful thighs brought his fretful stallion under control, Viola remembered the last time they’d been together at the river’s edge. Her stomach tightened at the pleasure of spending an afternoon with him. “I’d be delighted, sir.”
“But only if you promise me something.” A corner of his mouth quirked up.
She smiled. “That must depend on what it is.”
He laughed. “You’re a hard woman, Miss Viola. It was only that you call me by my Christian name, Hugh. I tire of calling you Miss Viola.”
Alarm bells began to ring at further familiarity. “I don’t believe the duchess would approve,” she said.
“My sister is not as strict as you might think.”
“Just for today, then.” She glanced across at Hugh’s grizzled-haired groom.
“Oh, don’t worry about Fuller. He was my father’s head groom and would take me to task should I forget my manners. Right, Fuller?”
“Many years since that’s been necessary, Your Grace.” Fuller smiled and tipped his hat.
“We go to visit some of my tenant farmers, several miles from here.” Hugh pointed over the far hill. “Their cottages are situated in a valley. The river floods during the rainy season, and the damp during the winter months, causes illness, amongst the young ones especially. I hope to be able to improve their situation.”
“It will only take me a moment to change,” Viola said, turning toward the door.
“Could there be a woman on this earth who really means that?” Hugh called after her.
Viola swiveled to face him. “You’ve now met one.”
She appeared several minutes later after calling for help from Becky as she ran up the stairs. As the groom assisted her onto Molly, Hugh remarked, “A woman of her word. I’m impressed. So little time to create a goddess.”
“Flowery compliments were not part of our agreement, Your Grace.” Trying to ignore the warm pleasure his compliment produced, she took up the reins.
“Hugh,” he reminded her.
“Hugh,” she amended. He had been Hugh in her thoughts for weeks, and her enjoyment at speaking his name far outweighed her uneasiness.
Hugh laughed. “Fuller, am I not known for my charm?”
Fuller grinned, as he dropped back to a respectful distance behind them.
Viola could well believe it. Handsome, charismatic, rich, a charmed life, and yet more than once she’d caught a glimpse of melancholy in his eyes. It was as appealing as it was inexplicable.
“Of that I have no doubt.”
He gave her a direct look. “I shall adhere to the strictures of propriety, have no fear.”
“I know it. I was merely teasing.”
He must never know how she yearned for just the opposite, his arms holding her as he had done that day by the water, but this time with the touch of his lips on hers. She looked away in case he read her need on her face.
“You should never tease,” he said. “It is far too devastating for an ordinary mortal to bear.”
She loved the laughter, which imbued his deep voice, but this talk must be discouraged. “You seem not to have learned your lesson, sir. I fear you are of a hopeless disposition.”
“I don’t doubt it. Perhaps your wise council might improve me.”
Viola suppressed a smile. “A hopeless case.”
Their mounts separated to negotiate a rough piece of ground and when he led his horse back to her side, he said, “On this last trip to London, I had plans drawn up to irrigate.”
“Irrigate?”
“Irrigation is a means of directing water from one place to another, by the use of ditches. I intend to redirect river water to crops, and drain it away from the ground around the cottages. I also plan to install water pumps to each cottage.”
They stopped at the top of the hill and looked down on the tiny farmhouses on the far side of the river. Fields of wheat formed kaleidoscope shapes in the shifting breeze.
Hugh pointed to an area of lush green pastureland. “There are floods every year, which cut off the only road into the valley.”
They rode down the hill, and reined in at the bottom.
It was a very different world on this side of the hill. Oaks and chestnuts stood in the cleared fields, their spreading branches a shelter for spring lambs. Crossing a bridge, they walked their horses along the riverbank. Ahead, a group of children tossed stones into the fast flowing water. They stopped to watch as Viola and Hugh rode up.
The tallest, a barefoot, shaggy-headed boy, ran up to Hugh.
“It’s the Dook, it’s the Dook!” he cried. The rest held back shyly.
Hugh dismounted, took a pile of sweetmeats from his pocket, and tossed them to him.
“Share them.”
The boy passed them round, handing one to a very young child, surely not more than three years old. A riot of red curls framed her heart-shaped face. Viola dismounted and squatted down beside her. The child’s big green eyes stared at her. Viola felt sure she had never seen such a lovely waif. “Why, you look like an angel,” she said. She picked the little girl up and sat her on her hip. “I’m Viola. What’s your name?”
“Hetty,” the child said. She reached up with a grubby finger and touched the feather on Viola’s hat. “Pretty.”
Hugh came up to them. “A woman is never too young to appreciate a hat.”
“But you should not play near the river, Hetty,” said Viola. “Why don’t you come with us?”
Viola stood the child on her feet and took her grubby little hand in her gloved one. Hugh walked with the horses as they strolled towards a small cottage with a thatched roof. An attempt had been made to grow flowers each side of the path, but most had died in the sour smelling, mossy soil.
Inside the cottage was cold and damp, with only a few pieces of furniture: a table, two chairs and a sideboard stacked with neat rows of chipped and cracked china. Mattresses stuffed with straw hung over the edge of the loft.
A woman nursing a baby was propped on similar bedding beside the fire. Coughing, she made to rise, but Hugh motioned for her to remain where she was. “Hullo, Mary,” he said. “This is Miss Viola. Where is your husband working today?”
“Henry is out planting in the far north field, Your Grace,” she said, adjusting her clothing. Mary’s thin face and mousy hair streaked with grey escaping from her cap made her appear older than she could be. “Hetty,” she cried, catching sight of the little girl. “I told you not to go off with t’others. Get yerself in here.”
“How is your baby?” Viola asked, bending down to her.
“She’s not been well, Miss.” Mary looked ill too. Limp and exhausted, there were deep purple shadows like bruises beneath her eyes.
“What is her name?”
“Annie, Miss.”
Viola squatted down. “May I hold her?”
Mary placed the baby in Viola’s arms. Annie mewed like a weak kitten. Viola placed her hand on her forehead. It was alarmingly hot. Viola handed the baby back to her. She turned to Hugh. “May I speak to you outside, Your Grace? That baby is very ill,” she said, aware that her disappointment and distress showed on her face. “Cannot more be done to help her?”
“I have every intention of it,” Hugh said coolly. His expression made her quake, but she stood her ground.
“If something isn’t done now, Mary and Annie might die. You said yourself that many do.”
&nb
sp; “And I explained to you that changes were being made. Rest assured it shall be dealt with.” He spun on his heel and re-entered the cottage.
Biting her lip, Viola followed.
“My groom and I will go in search of the doctor, Mary,” he said. “We’ll have him here this afternoon. You are not to worry about the cost.”
“We can’t afford it,” the woman said in an anguished tone.
“You mustn’t worry,” Hugh said. “Any expense will be taken care of.”
“Mary, I could take Annie back with me after the doctor has seen her,” Viola said. “Nanny and I will take good care of her.”
“How do you feel about Miss Viola caring for your baby until you are both a little better?” Hugh asked.
The woman’s eyes widened in alarm, face ghostly pale, beads of perspiration on her brow. She shook her head. “Oh, I couldn’t have that. Annie’s still at the breast.”
“Then I shall stay here and help you while the duke goes for the doctor.” Viola removed her hat. Before she put it down, she plucked the feather from it and gave it to Hetty, who accepted the pretty gift with a shy grin.
Promising Mary he’d be back soon, Hugh bowed formally to Viola before riding off.
Breathless, but still defiant, Viola tied a cloth she found around her waist. She gave the fire a prod.
“We have tea,” Mary said proudly. “I wanted to offer the duke some. It’s in that box on the dresser.”
Viola took down the cups.
Once made, she took Annie from Mary’s arms. She placed a cool cloth on the baby’s forehead, dampened from a jug of water on the dresser and rocked her while Mary drank her tea.
“Lie down and rest, Mary.”
Mary lay back with Annie suckling feebly at her breast.
When Mary closed her eyes, Viola was pleased to see she’d gained her trust. She folded back her sleeves and looked around.
There was more she could do.
****
As he rode for the doctor, Hugh couldn’t forget Viola’s quiet fury. He wasn’t used to being found at fault, and it did not sit well with him. But the image of the woman in such straightened circumstances returned to him and he had to admit that Viola was right, these people needed far more of his help than just draining the waterlogged lands and keeping up their supply of coal and their roofs from leaking. He had instructed his agent to keep an eye on things while he was in London, but the responsibility remained squarely on his shoulders. Those houses needed to be rebuilt, and would be forthwith. When he realized his anger was the result of shame, he’d nearly pulled his horse up short. The expression in Viola’s eyes—disappointment—stayed with him still.
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