Page 23 of The Odd Riddle of the Lost Duchess
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Birds sang at a colorful dawn that weekend, fluttering in the sky painted with pink, orange and yellow. A glowing ball of orange, the sun began rising behind a row of houses facing the west.
The Alford household was up and about. The servants chattered sleepily amongst themselves as they loaded various trunks and baggage into the carriages. The young ladies, tired from the night before, yawned as they climbed onto the velvet-covered cushions of the carriage. It was the custom of peers to sleep at dawn and awake in the afternoon during the season.
Emmeline suppressed a yawn behind her glove, as Ann’s head slumped on her shoulder. Lady Alford looked murderously at her husband for not leaving the previous evening as she had suggested. At last the group–George, the Duke of Leverton, Owen Benwick, Lord and Lady Alford, Emmeline and Ann were set to leave for the Bexley mansion in Winchester.
The ride was mostly pleasant, except for Ann’s motion sickness and Lady Alford’s periodic fear of crashing. So weary was Lord Alford of their conditions, that he traveled the rest of the journey seated beside Walker, the coachman.
Emmeline noticed how concerned George was of Ann’s pallor, asking her if she needed a vinaigrette.
“Your Grace, I have never used a vinaigrette in my life, nor have I fainted,” Ann laughed weakly. “It is a cumbersome affliction, surely, but it passes in an hour or so.”
Emmeline hid a smile–her best friend and her brother seemed to be getting along after their dance at the ball. Lady Alford had given her a transparent wink, which fortunately was not seen by either George or Ann. Owen, though, had noticed it, before giving the couple a contemplative glance.
“Lady Emmeline, do not read in such weak light!” scolded Lady Alford. “Your eyes will suffer. Whatever is the matter with you? You have been out of sorts for days.”
“I have not been, Aunt, do stop fussing.” Emmeline was disgruntled.
In truth, a dark mood had settled over her after the Duke of Newberry’s departure from London one week ago. Emmeline had tried to call off for many of the balls, morning calls, evening walks, outings to the opera and circus, but, unfortunately, she was forced to attend. She had grown spiritless to the whole thing and felt aversion to the men who called upon her.
Emmeline sorely missed the Duke’s company. Intrigue and mystique surrounded the gentleman akin to a cloak, and she found herself drawn to him. Ann gave her a pitying look. Her friend had tried to lighten her spirits, but nothing had pulled her out of the strange depression.
Emmeline reckoned that it had to do with the slim chance of her ever wedding the Duke. George had made his sentiments about the match very eloquent in the previous week, using the rumors about the Duke of Newberry’s involvement in the murder of St. Maur as an attempt to deter her. To her dismay, Aunt Catherine–who had been the Duke’s champion–had begun agreeing with her brother, instead of taking her side.
In all of it, Emmeline was getting more and more cross. Every time they spoke his name, they were only subjecting the Duke to foolish conjecture and disparaging his name on rumors. They did not know him. Sadly, she didn’t know him all that well either, as the few encounters they had–though titillating–had not given her a chance to delve into his mind.
Staring at the cover of her book, Emmeline wondered what she would do, if the Duke ever asked her to marry him.
Would I say yes and forgo my family, or will I say no and forgo any chance of my happiness?
Chapter 7
An Unexpected Guest
Lady Isabelle, still the Countess of Bexley as her son, the Earl of Bexley, who was as yet unmarried, greeted her new guests. Emmeline was enchanted by the lady’s genuine warmth and smiles. Her aunt Catherine was good friends with the Countess, as well. After settling in their rooms, the older ladies disappeared into a parlor, eager to begin their gossip.
Emmeline and Ann were ushered to the West Wing of the immense mansion, where they both were given separate bedrooms. Emmeline unpacked her trunk, refusing the assistance of a maid, for she needed the time and solitude to think. She was aware that a ball was arranged for the following night and they now had time to sleep for several hours before making an appearance.
Making use of the plushy, canopied bed, Emmeline wondered about the fate of the Duke of Newberry…orNoahas she had promised to call him. Was he well?
Her appetite was gone. It had been gone for the last four days, as the man she was growing to love was under investigation for murder, and she hadn’t heard a word from him.
Did he think she sided with their ignorant peers? Did he think she thought less of him?
“Please, no,” Emmeline whispered to herself as her fatigue claimed her and she surrendered to sleep.
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In the afternoon, Emmeline and Ann decided to take a walk to the nearby lake with a lady’s maid, Bridget, for a chaperone. They took a picnic with them, laughing and talking along the way. The area was beautiful in the summer. Bexley Manor, made of white stone, glimmered in the sun. The rough path leading to the lake was overflowing with colorful flowers. Emmeline picked a purple one, resting it behind one ear.
The gentlemen had gone riding after lunch. Emmeline and Ann, craving some privacy, had lostThe Game of Graceson purpose. They had left the remaining young ladies playing on the vast lawns of the house.
“My aunt whispered to me that we could not do so again,” Emmeline told Ann. “She saw through the act and declared that a young lady could hardly be seen if she runs off to the lake with her friend.”
Ann laughed. “It is the truth that I tire of being seen, Emmeline. I do hope both of us find husbands so that we do not have to attend events if we do not feel like it.”
Emmeline agreed, drawing in a breath at the beauty of the vast blue lake. They set down a blanket on the damp grass before sitting and enjoying the sunlight.
