“Ah,” His Grace said. “Perhaps this is information best not shared, then. I fear it will color your opinion of him. And after all, rumors are rumors, though this came from a source I trust very much—a source I cannot disclose, I am afraid.” He flashed a glance at Ruth. Yes, I am the trustworthy source! What is Lord’s name is he doing!
“Oh, no,” Mother said, clearly eager. “I think it would be better for us to know if there is anything… If there is anything worthy of rumor about the man.”
“Well, this man has a daughter, you see, he is a lord of noble birth but his daughter is growing older and he is keen for her to find a husband. I do not believe we can blame him for that anymore than we can blame a father who acquires for his son a situation. But that is by-the-by. This man told me that Lord Charles Stone likes to court older daughters and say frightfully improper things to them.” His Grace leaned in for dramatic effect. It worked; Mother and Father leaned in with him. “I even heard,” His Grace went on, “that he asked this young lady if she had ever been to a brothel before.”
“My!” Mother cried.
“Yes,” His Grace said. “He asked with a most lascivious countenance, and even tried to steal a kiss from the poor girl!”
“Ruth!” Mother cried. “Is this true?”
“Josephine,” Father snapped.
“Oh, His Grace must know. We have let Lord Stone court our lovely Ruthie!”
“It is true, Mother,” Ruth said, admiring and despising His Grace in equal measure. “He has said inappropriate things to me on occasion.”
“Why did you not tell us?” Father said.
“I did not want to anger you,” Ruth said.
“Anger us?” Father said. “Oh, child, this would not anger us! We only want what is best for you.”
“I know, Father,” Ruth said. “But you are ever so keen for me to find a husband, and—”
“You must not blame the lady,” His Grace interrupted. I have heard that Lord Stone can be very intimidating in an intimate situation. He is also a cunning man, who will trick parents into trusting him and abuse that trust. I am sorry to be the man who must bear this bad news. I fear it has upset you.”
“It is far better we know,” Mother said. “Yes, far better.”
“Five-and-thirty years I have lived upon this earth, and yet the repugnance of Man still shocks me,” His Grace murmured, with genuine sincerity. “I do not wish to instruct you on how to conduct affairs concerning your daughter, but if I were a father I should rather marry my girls to pigs than to that wretched man.”
Mother and Father looked at His Grace with shock, and then nodded as one. “Yes,” Mother muttered. “I suppose you are right. We were—blinded. By her age. I am sorry, Ruthie, but you are seven-and-twenty. You would be a wallflower, if our family name was not so solid.”
“One of the most solid in the Kingdom,” His Grace agreed. “That is why I wish to tell you something else, now. I wish to tell you the truth.”
“The truth, Your Grace?” Father said, laying his pipe aside. “The truth about what?”
“I want to tell that I intended to marry your daughter, seven years ago, before I was called away to France. I want to tell you that I loved her then and that I love her now. I want to tell you that commencing an official courtship of her, with your blessing; you go a long way to healing a broken man.”
Father’s mouth fell open. Mother looked at him with shock, her hand trembling upon the arm rest. Distantly, footsteps sounded in the house, as the footmen and the maidservants and the cooks shuffled about, oblivious of the drama in the drawing room. Ruth clasped her hands together in her lap and waited for somebody to speak. Rain started without: soft pattering upon the glass.
“Please, then, Your Grace,” Father said, at length. “Tell us the truth.”
His Grace leant forward and looked intently at Mother and Father. Ruth thought of a fireside storyteller in some primordial age, His Grace the storyteller, a prized member of an ancient village, and Mother and Father the elders, waiting for the liquid words.
“It started with a dance,” His Grace said, “and it ended with a kiss.”
“A kiss!”
“Oh my!”
*****
His Grace told it all: their first dance, their secret words, their growing love, their ironclad commitment, their secret kiss, their resolve to marry, and their final parting. Mother and Father sat in rapt attention. Father kept chewing his lip, something he never did, and Mother’s hands danced in her lap. She looked around the room every so often, as though phantoms were materializing in the walls.
“All this time,” Father said, “Ruthie had the love of a Duke.”
“But it is improper,” Mother said quietly. “Your conduct – excuse me, Your Grace – your conduct was quite improper. Kissing her when I was right there!”
“I know,” His Grace bowed his head. “I know, my lady, my lord. I have been a rascal. If you were to throw me out of the house right now and curse me, I would not blame you. But I would ask you to listen to me first. I love your daughter. I love her very much. And I would never want to see her mistreated. Every day in France – every muddy, bloody day – I wished I could twist the heavens and reverse Time itself: that I could make it so that we were married before I left. We had the time. It could have been done. But I did not want to make a widow of your daughter. That is the truth. I see now it was a foolish one.”
“You kiss her!” Mother cried.
“Yes, I did,” His Grace said. “I did, my lady, and what’s worse, I am afraid I cannot apologize for it. If I had the chance, I would kiss her again. Certainly, yes, and a thousand times after that!”
Ruth blushed to her ears. She had remained silent throughout this, a detached spectator to her own life. Then Mother turned to her and spread her hands to her sides: How could this happen? This is outside the realms of possibility. I do not understand how it could happen to a daughter of mine! Ruth cleared her throat. “I love him, Mother,” Ruth said, staring her mother plainly in the face. There was no going back now. They were over the precipice. They were freefalling. “You may not remember it, but when I was very young and you, Alice, Rhoda, and I were in bed together, you said to us: girls, I am lucky I found your father for I truly love him. Finding a man you truly love is a rare thing for a woman. If you find a man you love who is also of fitting social station, do not let him go. Whatever you do. You said that to us, Mother.”
“I never meant this!”
“I know,” Ruth said quickly. “But that is why I have resisted suitors these past seven years. I have found the man I love. It is Luke.”
“Luke!” Father exclaimed.
“Yes,” His Grace said. “I asked her to use my Christian name long ago.”
“What now?” Mother said. “More illicit kisses, more dangerous reunions?”
“No, my lady,” His Grace said. “Now your daughter and I wed.” He let the pregnant words hang in the air for a moment. Then he added: “With your permission, my lord, my lady, I would wed your daughter as soon as earthly possible. If she will have me.”
“I do,” Ruth said. Father shot her a stricken look.
“Your Grace, the proposal is unexpected,” Mother said, regaining some of her composure. This she understood. The underhand world of secret kisses and trysts was alien to her, but proposals and the acceptance and refusal of them – the weighing of social, economical, and personal standing – were her expertise. She took a deep breath and then forced a smile to her face. “Your Grace, if it does not seem impertinent, would you mind terribly if we took a week to discuss this proposal?”
His Grace rose at once. “Of course,” he said. “It is much to ingest, I know. I will leave you now, and return in a week. I will send a card, of course.”
He left the room swiftly and a half-minute later the three Eyres heard the front door’s faint thump.
As the door closed, Ruth could not help but think: But our kiss.
*****
“You truly love him?” Mother said.
It had been six days, and Mother had asked this question six-hundred times. Ruth nodded. “Yes, Mother, I truly love him.”
Father blew a plume of smoke and tucked his pipe firmly between his teeth. “You know,” he said, “if this man were not a Duke this would be a scandal large enough to shame you forever. Even as it is, if he were to discard you, you would be tarnished and dishonored for life. I know there are some women in the New World - or whatever those dreadful colonists are calling their island – that would have us believe modern ideas, but my father and his father and his father were judgmental men, as are most men, and my mother and her mother and her mother were careful women for that very reason. A lady must not let her emotions rule her. The Eyre women and their tenacity. It is like Rhoda, and that frightful actor of hers!”
“He is a playwright, dear,” Mother corrected quietly.
“A playwright! A play-wright!”
“And His Grace is a Duke,” Ruth said. “The situations are not comparable.”
“No, to my knowledge Rhoda did not dishonor herself before marriage.”
“Irvin!” Mother cried. “That is quite enough!”
“She must marry him, of course,” Father grunted. “He is a rich man. He is a noble man. He is a smart man. He is a heroic man. He is everything a man should be. He is a man even superior to myself, and I am a pride creature. You know this Josephine – and words like that do not come easily to me. Yes,” he sucked deeply on his pipe and blew the smoke from his nose, “she must marry him.”
“Of course she must,” Mother said. “I just… It is like an adventure novel!”
“Our lives, compared to that tripe!”
“Oh, to be young and foolish!”
“You are lucky he is a Duke!”
“If he were anybody else—”
“Your honor—”
“A lady must be cautious—”
“At least his father was not a silkman—”
“And that castle, what a home—”
Ruth tuned them around after a while. They were quite decided, and that was all that mattered to her. She was to be Duchess Ruth Orr of Stunton, husband to Brigadier Luke Orr, Duke of Stunton.
It is rare that a lady’s dreams come to fruition. Let us hope that the flame can burn hot enough to scorch away seven long years of waiting.
*****
Seven years had passed since Ruth and Luke’s first blossoming of love. Only one year had passed since their marriage. And yet it seemed to Ruth as though her whole life had been spent with His Grace. They toured the United Kingdom for two months after their wedding. His Grace was tired of other counties, he said, and wouldn’t leave the Kingdom again if he had the choice. They consummated their marriage in Wells. It was hot and steamy and everything Ruth had secretly wished for.
Now, back at Brook Castle, Ruth laid her hand upon her belly and looked over the grounds. It was May again, and the leaves were shunting their dead blackness and flowering in bright greens and careful yellows. Mother and Father were due to come for an extended visit, to wait for the baby to arrive, which should be any day now. The baby had been particular active of late, and Ruth was more convinced each day that the child was a boy. She hoped it was a boy. She would raise him to be kind and just and everything his father was; and everything that poor fat man Charles stone wasn’t.
Ruth was sitting by the window when her husband joined her. He had grown a moustache that made him look dashing. He leaned over her and lay a kiss upon her forehead. She reached up and touched his face and kissed him upon the lips. The baby kicked and he placed his hands upon her belly.
“This surpasses it all,” he said. “This far surpasses it all.”
“Surpasses what?”
“The dreams in France,” he said. “I dreamt of many things, of love and happiness, but never did I dream of something this perfect.” He scratched his scar absentmindedly. “I do not think I have told you how I got this, have I?”
“I thought it impolite to ask,” she said.
“Impolite,” Luke said, smiling. “I do not think you need to worry about that, my beautiful wife.”
“Tell me, then!” Ruth said daringly.
“I shall,” Luke said; his hands still upon her belly. The baby stopped kicking, soothed by his father’s presence, and Luke removed his hands and leaned back in his chair. “It was not during a battle, but after. I had fought in so many battles I had stopped counting long ago. This was five years into it. There had been so much pain, suffering, blood. So much of it. But this wasn’t like that. This wasn’t during the battle at all.
“The ground was slick – it was winter – and the mud was like a swamp. Bodies lay everywhere, and I leaned up after collapsing from exhaustion, my clothes stiff with mud and cold, and looked around. I saw it, then, the source of a monstrous sound. A boy – for that is what he was – was swinging a bayonet wildly at nothing in particular. He was screaming, and looking around with wild, bloodshot eyes. Where are they? he screamed. Am I scaring you, my love?”
“No. Continue, please.”
“Very well. I approached the boy, ignoring the tiredness in my bones, and tried to reason with him. I fear I was not very successful. In his madness he cut me. But after he’d cut me, he stopped and stared at me, and his eyes opened wider and he saw me. I am sorry, he breathed. Oh Lord, forgive me. Blood was pouring from me, but that was nothing knew – you have seen my scarred body – and so I nodded. I forgive you, son, I said – for we were with titles and so forth – and together we bandaged up my wound.”
There was a sound from without. The footman was leading Mother and Father.
Luke went on hurriedly, eager to finish his story.
“That is when I learnt that to experience something good – like this boy’s recovery – sometimes it is necessary to experience something dreadful. The war was that for me, and you were the light that seared into its darkest depths. I know, I am being horribly earnest, but it is the truth. I just feel I had to say that to you, now, for some reason. Isn’t that odd?”
“It is lovely,” Ruth said, and then Mother and Father entered.
Luke’s countenance changed from his private, true self to his entertaining social self. He rose to his feet and bowed. “My lord, my lady,” he said, “it is an honor to welcome you to my home.”
“It is an honor to be here, Your Grace,” Father said. “You are enjoying being back at the Castle, I hope.”
“Very much so,” Luke said. “It makes it easier for Ruth, who has gotten so big now. Come, you must see. I fear she loathes standing of late.”
“Luke!” Ruth cried playfully, as she struggled to her feet. “Mother, Father, it is nice to see you again after so many months.”
There was a moment of awkwardness, when they all remembered the illicit way in which this situation had come to be, but then that wall broke down and the four of them were Mother, Father, Luke, and Ruth.
Mother almost skipped over to Ruth. “May I?” she said, gesturing at her belly.
“Of course, Mother.”
Over Mother’s shoulder, Ruth saw Luke pat Father on the back. “I have a gift for you, my lord,” he said.
“For me?” Father looked like a child on his birthday.
The gift was a beautifully carved pipe Luke had had specially made, for even Duke’s must spoil their wife’s parents sometimes.
Princess's Secret
“Dick!” Bobbie Josephine spit out the word like it left a bad taste in her mouth. Ever since she had met that horrible boy, she had a heap of trouble. Now she had gone from the pan to the fire. “What have you done? Did you not stop to think that I might not want my birthday announced for the whole kingdom to know?”
William Harrison Donaldson, known as Dick to his friends and family, smiled his easy, wide smile. “Did you forget your mother’s ball this evening? Did you think she would let the night go without a toast to her birthday girl?”
Bobbie’s frowned deepened. The mention of her mother was reminder of the root of the problem, but the ball was trouble of enormous proportions. She had never asked to be a princess, and although she loved her family, perhaps if given a choice she would have picked a role with less political nonsense. The ball tonight was a prime example. She did not have a choice in the matter; she would have to attend. Not only attend, but socialize with the Lesbionia’s elite- a group of know it all spoiled brats.
Even while they were kids, there was just something different about Bobbie from the other girls in her social circles. Kids pick at things they don’t understand, and Bobbie’s kind nature was weird and foreign to them. They had been taught to judge others and look down on those who didn’t have their breeding. The princess was brought up by a kind and loving father. He had passed on, but in the days when he had ruled, there was an easy peace to the land and their lives. Once a great Navel Admiral, King Pete hadn’t been afraid of hard work. He was wise and gentle. The princess came along late in his life and surprised him. But how he loved her! She was by his side at all times, and as a result, was quite the tomboy. She loved playing in the shipyard, where her father frequently had business, running and playing with the sons of the workers.
That is where she had met young Dick, a son of a Captain of one the ships, and good friend to her father. The pair had grown up together, close as best friends could be. He was blamed for most of the trouble they got into, but truth be known; most of it was her idea. Then puberty had hit and both had looked at each other differently. Falling in love had not been hard, but the social consequences where staggering. They simply could not be together. The princess could no more marry her love than marry a goat. Now she would be expected to go to the stupid ball and dance with stupid suitors, all who grew up with silver spoons and haughty attitudes. Each year they got worse. And now, with her birthday here and her age advancing, she would be expected to wed soon.
The Duke of Ice Page 29