Celeste rang for the Duchess’s morning tea, then busied herself setting the room to rights and making the Duchess comfortable.
“Don’t put that footstool there, I’m not an invalid. I can certainly sit up and place my feet on the floor.”
“Of course, Your Grace. I am sure you are the picture of perfect health.”
“I absolutely must look it or Jonathan will be cross. Such a burdensome man. Always going on about how appearances count and setting a good example for the people. Well, I’d like to set them a good example of staying in bed today.”
“I am sorry you are not feeling well, Your Grace. Let me rub a little lavender water on your temples to see if it will ease you.”
“I do not want any stupid lavender water!” The Duchess snatched the bottle and hurled it across the room. The bottle struck the stone fireplace where it shattered onto the hearth.”
Celeste stood perfectly still. She had never seen anyone act this way before in her life. “I am sorry, Your Grace. Have I done something to upset you?”
“Not you, stupid girl. It was those gabbling cats who have come for the trade fair. ‘We saw Mrs. Gibbons at the end of the Season.’ ‘We went to Almac’s.’ ‘We were invited to Lady Jersey’s crush.’ I’m sure that if I’d been in London, I could have done those things, too, but I am stuck here in a horrid castle above a bog.”
The Duchess began to cry. It was not the graceful kind of crying done to coax gentlemen into behaving as desired. It was ugly gulping sobs that were punctuated by the Duchess’s small fist pounding on the arm of the chair.
“I am so sorry, Your Grace.” Celeste had no idea what else to say. She had no idea what to do. This was the kind of tantrum usually thrown by a three-year-old who was denied a favorite plaything.
At last the Duchess ran down. “I apologize, Celeste. You are my ministering angel and do not deserve my ill temper. It is all Jonathan’s fault. He claimed that we could not afford a Season in London. But he could afford to repair that stupid mill at the foot of the village.”
Celeste was aghast. The Duchess wanted to put a London season ahead of repairing the mill? The old mill was where all the flour was ground for the village.
The Duchess took no notice of Celeste’s reaction. “Now he wants to hold this stupid trade fair. This stupid trade fair is held every year. You would think it was a tradition or some such fool notion. Those women just couldn’t keep from rubbing my nose in not going to London. It isn’t right! It isn’t fair. I won’t have it!”
The Duchess turned angry eyes toward Celeste. They were puffy and swollen from crying. Her brows were drawn so tightly together that they almost formed a V. The mouth beneath the blazing eyes was drawn into a snarl. “I will have a London Season next year. Just you wait and see. I will have it and you will go with me. I will be the life of every party, I will go to Almac’s, I will visit Lady Jersey and no one will be able to boast of doing more than I!”
This gave Celeste an idea of the problem and a way to soothe the Duchess. “Those are wonderful plans, Your Grace. I’m sure that with a little care, you and the Duke will be able to work that out. Come now, have a sip of tea and a biscuit. Everything will be better once you have food in your stomach.”
“Pah. Food.” The Duchess glared at the breakfast tray that was laden with fruit, thin crackers, sweet biscuits, and slices of cheese. After a moment, she picked up a small square of toast. “Maybe just a nibble.” She chewed her way around the toast, eating away the crust.
She suddenly clamped her hand over her mouth and turned toward Celeste. Quickly, Celeste grabbed up the wash basin and held it in front of the Duchess.
When the Duchess had finished emptying her stomach, Celeste said, “Are you sure you should not send for the doctor? Or at least for the herb woman?”
“No, no. I shall be fine. It is just dealing with those horrid women and having to go back out and deal with them again.”
“Very well, Your Grace. Let me ring for a little barley water. That stayed down nicely the last time you were feeling ill.”
“Thank you, Celeste. Whatever did I do without you?”
“I’m sure I don’t know, Your Grace. Let me bring you a little peppermint water to rinse your mouth. Don’t swallow it, just swish it around and get the nasty taste out.”
An hour later, Celeste had managed to soothe the Duchess, get her suitably gowned, and had even coaxed her to try a little more dry toast washed down with barley water.
“Why is it that stays down better than the tea?” the Duchess asked.
“I’m quite sure that I don’t know, Your Grace, but I do know that such is often the case. Now, you look lovely and I’m sure that all of those ladies will envy you, what with you living in such a fine castle and all. Gush about the sunsets, the moon over the lake, and the fine air when they boast about Almac’s.”
“Why ever did I not think of that? Celeste, you clever girl! Do my eyes show that I’ve been crying?”
“Not a bit, Your Grace. You are lovely, as always, and I am sure you will put all of them in the shade.”
“Perhaps I should have some new gowns made up. You were a seamstress, Celeste. Perhaps you could make some things for me.”
“It would take a while working alone, Your Grace. It takes many hours to stitch a long seam.”
The Duchess stared at her, eyes wide. “Does it truly, Celeste? I’ve often had gowns that were made up in two days or less.”
