Page 6 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“It would not have bothered me one jot. I hate the idea of you going through such a terrible loss out here on your own.”
“I am well, Oliver. I promise you that I am indeed well. Grandmother had been preparing me for her demise for some time. It was not a surprise in the least to awaken and find her gone. Sad, certainly, but not surprising.”
“I am so very sorry to have to ask this of you, given the circumstances of your recent loss, Marybeth, but the Dowager Duchess is in desperate need of your healing herbs.”
“The Dowager Duchess?” Marybeth asked in confusion. She could not imagine a lady of such noble birth requesting the presence of a wild healer when she had all of London’s educated medical community at her disposal. “Does she not have a bevy of physicians at her beck and call?”
“All such efforts have been exhausted. It is quite possible that you are her last hope.” The seriousness of Oliver’s expression told her that he very much meant what he said.
“I cannot imagine what I can do for her that they cannot, but I will come and see if I might be able to offer her some comfort.”
Marybeth finished feeding the birds and then walked with Oliver back to her croft. After washing her hands, she moved about the croft gathering all of the supplies that she might need. She asked Oliver for a list of the Dowager Duchess’s symptoms and planned accordingly. When she was done, they both mounted Oliver’s horse and rode through the forest toward the manor house.
When they arrived at Arkley Hall, they rode straight to the stables where Oliver handed the reins off to another groom and led Marybeth through the back servants’ entrance and up to the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber. When they opened the door, they found that she was sleeping, the room otherwise empty.
“I will go and inform His Grace of your arrival, Marybeth. You may begin your preparations so that you might explain it to His Grace when he arrives,” Oliver whispered so as not to wake the Dowager Duchess.
“Should I not wait until she awakens? I would be quite frightened if I were to awaken to a strange woman standing over me without explanation.”
“If you are quiet, it is unlikely that she will awaken. She suffers from severe bouts of fatigue and can sleep for hours without stirring. His Grace could ride his black stallion through Her Grace’s bedchamber and naught would startle her.”
“If you are certain,” Marybeth hesitantly agreed.
“I am.” Oliver squeezed her arm in reassurance and went to find the Duke.
Marybeth had never met either the Duke or his mother, so she was unsure what to expect. She had lived a rather insular existence with her grandmother in the forest, only having visitors when Oliver came to call, or a local person needed healing. Her grasp of the social niceties were somewhat lacking due to her preferred separation from society. She had never regretted her solitary existence and had indeed been grateful for it on more than one occasion.
Moving to lay her supplies out upon a table so that she would be ready to prepare the proper herbs for the Dowager Duchess, she passed a mirror and paused to look at her reflection. She had thick, long dark chestnut-colored hair, gentle intelligent grey eyes, and a warm complexion kissed by her many hours in the sun. She was a bit wild and ragged around the edges, but not at all unpleasing to look upon. Nodding her head in satisfaction, she continued on with her work.
“Grandmother I wish you were here with me now,” she murmured as she stood looking down upon the Dowager Duchess’s visage. She had never treated a person of noble birth before and wished for the reassuring presence of her grandmother. “I suppose you are just a person, same as anyone else upon the inside,” she spoke to the sleeping form before her.
A noise at the door caused her to turn, surprised at the speed in which Oliver had summoned the Duke. Instead of Oliver, she found the startled fear-filled eyes of what appeared to be a maid. The woman screamed as if she had witnessed a horrific murder and then fled the room as fast as her legs would carry her. She could hear the maid’s accusations of a witch’s curse as she shrieked to someone below stairs. She rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I am not a witch!”
“That is good to know,” a weak feminine voice replied from behind her.
Marybeth turned her attention back to the bed. “My apologies for waking you, Your Grace.” She curtsied in respect, as was expected of her class.
“Nonsense, there are no apologies needed, my dear. You are the healer my son has arranged for me to see, I presume?” The lady’s tone was kind and gentle, as were her smile and general demeanor. Marybeth felt instantly reassured.
“That I am, Your Grace.” The Dowager Duchess smiled weakly up at her and took her hand in greeting.
“Mother?” a masculine voice inquired from the doorway. Marybeth turned to find a handsome young man, tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair, and deep green eyes.
“Felix, come in, my dear,” the Dowager Duchess greeted with a smile.
“And who is your guest?” he inquired, entering the room. “Not an actual witch, I think.”
“Nay, not a witch, my son. The young lady is a healer.” She reached out and took her son’s hand in her own, patting it affectionately.
“A healer? I was under the impression that the healer I had sent for was a woman of many years and experience.” The Duke’s expression was somewhat confused as his eyes scanned her youthful face and frame. Marybeth was not certain, but she thought she spied a glint of something akin to appreciation in his gaze.
“My grandmother passed away recently. I am afraid that I am all that is left.” Marybeth prepared herself to be forcibly escorted out of the house. People of his ilk seldom tolerated those of hers.
“I see. And you carry on her legacy?”
“I do my best, yes.”
He nodded slowly. “Very well; please, proceed.”
