Chapter 39
Celeste and Betty had just finished the long seams on the brown, striped dinner dress when David Hammonds came to tell them that the Duchess was ringing for Celeste.
“You go,” Betty said. “I’ll finish cleaning up here.”
Celeste hurried from the solar to the main hall. When she entered the Duchess’s chambers, Her Grace was practically glowing.
“You had a good ride?” Celeste asked.
“Lovely!” the Duchess said, “It was so beautiful outside. There was even a rainbow.”
To Celeste’s eye, it looked as if the Duchess had been playing in the mud. She was often careless about her clothes, but today she had taken that carelessness to new heights. Her boots were caked with mud and the hem of her riding habit looked as if she had gone wading in it. The skirt was not only muddy, but soaked to the knee. The back of the garment looked as if the Duchess had sat down on a muddy bank, for it was covered with mud and grass stains.
The Duchess herself seemed in fine fettle. Her color was high, and her eyes sparkled with an almost manic light. “Come, help me out of this and ring for a bath. Do not dawdle. You will make me late for dinner. I am famished.”
“I ordered a bath on the way to your chamber, Your Grace. It should be here shortly. Of course I will help you out. Did you fall?”
The Duchess laughed, a silvery girlish laugh. “Oh, no. I saw some wildflowers that I wanted to pick, and I slid down an embankment.”
With some difficulty, Celeste was able to peel the Duchess out of her muddy clothes and into a bathing robe before the pot boys brought up the canisters of water. She had just gotten the bathing sheet draped over the tub when they tapped at the door.
Soon the Duchess was soaking in a warm tub, babbling on about rainbows, wildflowers, and racing with the wind in her hair.It would be appropriate for a girl of ten summers to gush like this, but it is a bit worrying in a grown woman.
“It is good to see you in good spirits, Your Grace,” Celeste commented.
“I am always in good spirits,” the Duchess announced. “Why ever should I not be? Oh, did you get my dress finished? I would like to wear it tonight.”
“I am sorry, Your Grace. We have the main seams done, but not the finish work.”
The Duchess’s face fell. She pouted like a little child. “But I want to wear it now.”
“Perhaps tomorrow night,” Celeste soothed. “Betty helped and we have the main part of the garment finished. Perhaps your silk bombazine? It should be light enough for the evening.”
“Very well,” the Duchess said sulkily. “But I want to wear the new one tomorrow. Perhaps you can beg off some of your other chores and attend just me, for a change.”
“I am always here for you, Your Grace. My other chores are only to fill in the time when you do not need me.”
What has come over her? She is up, then down. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her quite like this.
It was a relief to send the Duchess off to dinner with the Duke, but Celeste felt a little sorry for him. He looked sad and tired, although he put on a pleasant smile for the Duchess. When they were gone, Celeste cleaned the room, then hurried to get something to eat before the Duchess required her services again. As was often the case, however, she did not ring for Celeste after dinner.
This left Celeste with a dilemma. Should she go to the study? The Duke had suggested it yesterday. But did he mean it?
Celeste poured herself another cup of tea, trying to decide what she should do.
Chapter 40
Jonathan offered his arm to Margery. She seemed unusually animated, her eyes bright and sparkling. Her smile held a promise of something, but he could not tell what. She offered no conversation at all, but leaned coyly on his arm, as if he were a lover from whose bed she had recently risen.
Dinner was also an anomaly. His Duchess praised the soup, devoured the main dish, which was the despised chicken. She ate the dessert custard with apparent relish, and even gave him a peck of a kiss on the cheek before she retired to her rooms.
But the door closed in his face, as it always did. Frustrated, Jonathan clenched his hand once, then strode back down the hall to his study. What was she playing at this time? Was it not enough that most of the household was aware that she had taken a lover? He did not want to confront her until the annulment papers were in his hand. But what to do with her, that was the question.
She had no kin to whom he could send her. She was an unlikely candidate for a convent. In good conscience, he did not feel that he could break his promise to her father. Clearly, the late Duke of Mabway had known that his daughter’s mental faculties were frail. But to be shackled to a mad woman for the rest of his days! It scarcely bore thinking on.
Jonathan flung himself into his chair and stared into the flames of his fireplace. The usual pile of reports and tallies sat in a large wooden box on one corner of his desk. It seemed almost an insult after the long day he had spent trying to discover what had gone wrong in his small domain. He sighed, and reached for the box. No matter what else went on, people had to eat, be sheltered, and have clothing to wear.
If only he had some help. Then he remembered. Celeste! She had entered the household accounts so neatly. She could at least take that burden from him. He reached for the bell pull.
