“Mmm,” she said, biting into it. “This is one of the things that I do love about Gwyndonmere. It is difficult to get oranges in London. The gardener here has a magic way with orange trees.”
“Yes, Gran’ther Tim has a marvelous way with plants of all kinds. And the cook makes the most amazing jellies and jams. I’m glad you like it, Your Grace.”
“Are you, Celeste? Sometimes I think you do not quite approve of me.”
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove of you, Your Grace. It is my duty to serve you as best I can. I know you are not feeling well today, and I am glad that something can make your dismal day indoors a little better.”
“It is a dismal day,” the Duchess agreed. “Far too wet to ride, and I feel too miserable to go down to dinner. Celeste, do you think you could go down to the library and find a book to read to me? You do read, don’t you?”
“Yes, Your Grace, I can read. I am not quite as good at it when reading in English.”
“Oh. Let me think. There are some schoolbooks for children on the large wall near the study. Perhaps you can find something there that you can read aloud to me. Oh, and bring back some lavender water so you can bathe my temples. I feel so miserable.”
The Duchess sank down into her mound of pillows. She did, indeed, look quite unhappy. Two bright red spots shown on her cheeks, and she rubbed at her forehead fitfully.
“I will bring them both up, Your Grace,” Celeste promised. “I might be a few moments while I search for a book.”
The Duchess did not reply, so Celeste quickly let herself out and went down the hall to the study, which led into the library. She was surprised to find the Duke, Mr. McAhmladhson, and Mr. McOwen warming themselves by the study fire.
“Oh!” she said, a bit startled. “Your pardon, gentlemen, but the Duchess would like for me to find a book to read to her. I can go down to the lower hall and come back to the library.”
“No, no,” the Duke said. “Come right on through. In fact, I know just the book.”It was one of the few things we enjoyed together, back when it seemed as if there might be some hope for us.
The Duke went into the library and over to a low shelf that held several shabby little books. “Most of these are my schoolbooks, but here is one here that I purchased for the Duchess for her twenty-first birthday. We had been to a Shakespeare play at Covent Garden. She found it puzzling. I knew that Tales from Shakespeare was newly published as an instructional book, so I bought it for her. I know that she enjoyed it a great deal.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.” Celeste bobbed a quick curtsy. “I will hurry back to the Duchess and hope that reading it will help her feel a little better. Oh, and I was to deliver a message to you as well. She says that she feels too ill to dine formally this night, and begs that you will forgive her absence.”
Celeste thought the Duke looked a little bleak at the prospect of dining alone, but all he said was, “I thank you for the information, Miss Singer. Take back with you the message that I hope she will feel better soon.”
When Celeste returned to the Duchess’s chambers, she quickly delivered the Duke’s message. “And he recommended a book that he is sure that you will like,” Celeste added.
“How very like him,” the Duchess said. “He is fond of books, and used to give them to me as gifts. But when he realized that I preferred jewelry, he gave me fewer gifts.”
“Oh?” Celeste looked at the Duchess, her hazel eyes wide with surprise.
“Jewels cost more than books, you see, and Jonathan always has an eye on his accounts. Which book did he send up with you?”
A little startled by this view of the Duke, Celeste glanced up at the Duchess, but then clamped down on her reaction. “Tales from Shakespeare.”
“Ah, yes. We had been to see Macbeth, and I found their motivations rather puzzling. Jonathan had heard someone describe Tales from Shakespeare as having been written as a means to educate girls who had not read the classics so that they would understand the contents of the Bard’s plays. It was new, just published when Jonathan bought it. I have come to understand Lady Macbeth very well, I think, although I am less sure of Macbeth himself.”
“Is that the story you wish to hear?” Celeste asked.
“No, no. Let us read something cheerier. There is one in there shortly after Macbeth. It is called ‘All’s Well That Ends Well.’ I rather like that one.”
“That is a promising title,” Celeste commented. Turning to the beginning page of the story she began to read, “Bertram, Count of Rousillan, had newly come into his estate…” Celeste found the simple English that Charlotte Lamb had used to tell the tale easy to read, and the story intriguing. It recounted an intricate tangle of misplaced motivation, mistaken identity, and general mayhem before coming to the conclusion, “…she was now the wife of her beloved Bertram…”
As Celeste read the last word, she looked over at the Duchess. Her Grace seemed to have fallen asleep amid the welter of pillows. Before Celeste could consider the next thing she should do, the Duchess murmured, “You read very well, but I think I would like to be alone now. Perhaps I shall nap.”
“Very well, Your Grace. It shall be as you wish.” Celeste started to tidy up.
“Leave it. You can clean the room tomorrow when I will go out riding. It cannot rain forever.”
Celeste glanced around quickly. Fortunately, she had tidied the room before preparing the Duchess’s light repast. There was nothing on the tray to decay, although the crusty bread might attract mice. “Shall I take the tray?” she asked.
“Leave it. I might want to nibble at it later.”
The Duchess did sound sleepy, so Celeste slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.
