Page 5 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“Agreed.” His mother wearily nodded her assent and then faded off to sleep.
For a moment Felix grew concerned when it appeared as if she were no longer breathing, but then her chest rose and fell, allowing him to relax. Relieved, he stood, kissed her head, pulled the blankets up under her chin, and left the room. Her lady’s maid entered and sat down in the corner to keep watch over her mistress. “Guard her well, Mrs. Snow.”
“Always, Your Grace.”
Felix stepped into the library to jot down a note, then left the house to return to the stables. “Oliver,” he called out into the shadowed interior.
“Yes, Your Grace,” Oliver’s voice called down from the hay loft above. His face peered down at Felix from the hole in the ceiling, his dark hair flopping over his forehead, sprinkling loose bits of straw into his dark brown eyes. Were the matter not so serious, Felix might have laughed at the comical sight the groom made. “We have decided to give your healer a try. Please arrange for her to come and see Mother next week, if it can be managed.”
“I will leave right away, Your Grace.”
“Thank you, Oliver, but there is no need to rush. As I said, later next week will do nicely.” Felix turned to go but hesitated when he heard a feminine giggle from overhead.
“Shh, Betty,” Oliver’s voice cautioned in a loud whisper.
Felix smiled and continued walking. It appeared that taming horses was not the only thing that Oliver was good at; apparently, he was quite good with the taming of young kitchen maids as well.Cheeky rascal,Felix chuckled. He envied the young groom his carefree nature, but death had a way of maturing a man whether he wished it or not.
Oh, Father, why did you have to leave us so soon?Thoughts of his father’s death caused his mind to turn back to Doctor Standish’s diagnosis.Dying of a broken heart indeed, what nonsense! As if such a thing were even possible.
Leaving the stables, Felix walked over to his workshop. Unusual for a man of his social station, he had always enjoyed working with his hands to build things. When his mother had become ill, he had spent many hours in his workshop inventing or improving upon various items to make her life easier and more enjoyable.
Currently Felix was working on creating an invalid’s chair with wheels, much like that which had been made for King Philip II of Spain in 1595, only much more comfortable. He was also working on a three wheeled bath chair in order to make it easier for her to take in the healing waters at Bath upon their next visit. The work soothed his troubled mind and gave him a sense of purpose and control over the heartrendingly helpless situation they found themselves in. Discarding his jacket, he rolled up his sleeves and set to work.
The next day Doctor Standish returned, but had little more to say than he had before. When he was done, Felix thanked him for his service and sent him on his way. Disheartened and discouraged, he paced the library floor until the Weatherton’s carriage pulled up in front of the house. The Earl and his sister, Lady Cordelia, disembarked. Felix could see them assessing the house and grounds from where he stood at the window.
Assessing my worth, no doubt,he thought bitterly. Squaring his shoulders, he exited the library and went to meet his guests in the hall. The next several hours were spent in mundane conversation, insincere flattery, and mind-numbing tedium. To please his mother, he invited them to return for a picnic on the following day. They accepted, and so his courtship of Lady Cordelia Weatherton was underway.
The following week was spent in doctor’s visits from London and various social engagements with the Weathertons. After one particularly odious conversation with his guests, wherein the Earl made it quite clear that he expected Felix to marry his sister, Felix escaped to his workshop immediately upon their departure.Unfortunately, the Earl is right. I do need to marry, and soon if I am to do so before Mother passes on. How she longs to see her grandchildren before she goes.
His mother’s health had continued to fade with each passing day, and he had no way of knowing how much longer she would be able to bear the misery her life had become. He poured his fear and frustration into his work with the intention of finishing both wheeled chairs. If he were to wed soon, he would not have the time to finish them later.
Several hours passed as Felix put the finishing touches on his work. He was just about to tighten the last bolt when he was brought up short by a terror-stricken scream from inside of the house. Dropping his tools, he ran for the house to find his mother’s lady’s maid white as a sheet and shaking at the foot of the stairs. She was out of breath from running and quite near to fainting. Her voice trembled as she cried out in fright, “Witch! There is a witch putting a curse on my lady!”
Chapter 2
Marybeth Wright stood in the middle of her grandmother’s old dovecot and smiled. She loved the dilapidated ruins at Blackleigh Castle, where she had spent many happy days as a child. The local inhabitants of the countryside believed the ancient stone edifice to be haunted, but that did not bother Marybeth in the slightest. She had loved her grandmother’s stories of the Witch of Blackleigh and the hidden treasure that supposedly resided within.
The castle had been built shortly after the Norman invasion of Britain in 1066. It had weathered many an attack and had eventually been abandoned in favor of a newer castle some distance away. Blackleigh was then converted into a monastery for a brief time, before being abandoned permanently sometime during the latter part of the medieval period. Though the ruins were now part of the Duke of Arkley’s estate, Marybeth’s grandmother had used it as her own personal possession.
Gathering a handful of wheat from her bag, Marybeth tossed the grains onto the stone floor. A flurry of grey and white wings descended around her as a myriad of pigeons scurried to peck at the food upon the ground. Marybeth grinned with delight at the warbling coo of the birds, as males strutted and danced about attempting to draw the attention of the females. Pigeons were her favorite animal in all the world. They were clever and loyal, mating for life. Sometimes she preferred them to people.
She lived in an old cottage left to her by her grandmother. Her mother had died in childbirth, never revealing who the father of her child was. Marybeth was raised by her maternal grandmother, Abigail Wright, the so-called witch of the forest. Her life was a solitary existence with very little interaction outside of her grandmother and her dearest friend Oliver Singer, who worked on the estate at the stables, with the occasional foray into the village. People were frightened of her grandmother, and that fear had extended to Marybeth as well.
Hearing hoofbeats, Marybeth peered out of the dovecot to find Oliver entering the clearing. “Marybeth!” he called, jumping from the horse’s back before it had a chance to stop moving. “Marybeth!”
“Oliver, this is an unexpected surprise,” she answered stepping out of the doorway. “I was not expecting you until tomorrow. Have you brought me more books to read from the village?” She had read everything she could get her hands on since she was quite small, sitting upon her grandmother’s knee. Her grandmother had provided her with an education that would have rivaled that of the greatest houses in Europe, just as her mother had for her, and her mother before her.
“No, not this time,” Oliver shook his head regretfully.
Marybeth and Oliver had been friends since they were children. They had met while exploring the castle ruins. Oliver had been on a dare from the other estate children to test his bravery. Marybeth had been feeding her grandmother’s birds and had nearly scared him out of his senses. He had thought that she was the fabled Witch of Blackleigh and had run screaming from the ruins until Marybeth had caught up with him and explained that she was not as he had feared.
“The Dowager Duchess is in need of your grandmother’s healing skills, but when I went by the cottage, I did not find anyone home, so I knew that you would be here. Is your grandmother about?” Oliver explained coming over to embrace her affectionately.
“Grandmother passed away the night before last. I buried her myself in the forest.”
“Oh, Marybeth, I am so very sorry. Why did you not come for me?”
“It was my grandmother’s wish to be buried in the old ways. I did not wish to bother your Christian conscience with the question of morality concerning burial outside of consecrated ground.”
