Instead, she was disappointed when Marjorie smiled mischievously and replied, “Oh, that won’t be a problem. My mother taught me that the best cure for a drunkard is to poison their spirits. After several days spent moaning with their face in a chamber pot, wishing for death, they won’t touch liquor again.”
“Hmmph. And I suppose you’re already aware that my brother was wounded in the war. He will need tending night and day. There has long been talk…” The elderly duchess lowered her voice and leaned forward, then continued. “…that he is unable to father children.”
Harriet gasped and turned a shade of crimson such as Marjorie had never seen before. Instead of partaking in the shock of such a blatant discussion of a deeply private matter, Marjorie sat even straighter and answered her coolly.
“I’m sure your brother has managed his injury for some time quite well without a wife. Whatever assistance he’s had all this time has obviously been sufficient. As for whether or not he can perform his husbandly duties and sire children, that is God’s problem, not mine. I would love to raise a household full of youngsters ambling about, but I would be just as content to spend my days riding in solitude. And speaking of, the ride that I mentioned earlier won’t wait any longer. Thank you for the invitation, it was most kind of you to bring us both out at great inconvenience and berate both me and His Grace.”
With a slight tug at her sister’s sleeve, Marjorie rose and turned to leave. She made it only as far as the doorway before colliding with the Duke. She looked up into his rather plain face, a shock of white hair now cascading over his forehead from their sudden meeting. His eyes, while tired and weepy, seemed to be filled with understanding.
“Your Grace, I’m so sorry. I did not know you were at home.” This time, when she spoke, Marjorie actually did feel a pang of remorse, hoping that the poor old man had not heard all that his sister said. She wracked her brain to think whether or not she’d said anything unkind about the Duke, other than the fact—the truthful fact, that is—that she’d had nothing to do with the betrothal.
“My Lady,” the Duke said softly, bowing his head slightly and looking angrily over Marjorie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry that I was not here for your visit with my sister, I did not know you had been invited until just now and I came straight away once I heard. But alas, I see that you are leaving now. I trust it was a pleasant chat and not just an unfortunate bombardment of pointless gossip.”
“It was quite enlightening, Your Grace,” she replied, ducking her chin politely and lowering her eyes. “Sometimes, the most important things you learn about a family are those that are unsaid.”
The Duke knew not what else to say, so remained silent. He only nodded mournfully in agreement, then stepped back to let Marjorie and Harriet pass. For her part, the only upset Marjorie had felt during the whole of the visit was the moment she saw the look of remorse on the older man’s face. It did not endear him to her in any way, but no one should be the subject of such a vicious conversation as the Duke had been.
Outside, Harriet panted softly in anguish as she climbed into their carriage. “I’ve never been so frightened in all my life!”
“Frightened? Of what? I’m the one who has to marry that man and take up residence with his horrid sister!” Marjorie said lightly, trying to soothe her sister’s anxiety.
“I don’t know how you dared to speak to her so forcefully! I could never! I would have collapsed from a faint the moment she first spoke!” Harriet fanned herself rapidly with her gloved hand, swirling the air gently in front of her face.
“She does not intimidate me, Harriet. You must always remember that there is nothing anyone can do to you short of actually kill you, and even then, the worst they can do is throw your remains to the crows.” Marjorie clucked softly and shook the reins until the horses got underway.
And good riddance to this house and all who live here, at least until I cannot avoid them any longer!she thought bitterly as they pulled through the gate and headed home.
On the way back, she briefly wondered if it would do any good to speak to Father, to tell him how wretched a welcome she had received from the Duke’s sister. But no, that would likely not hold any sway with him. The matters of the ton, particularly those of women and their chattering, bored the man to tears with their lack of consequence. Worse still, he might instead berate Marjorie for not endearing herself more to the Duchess, especially as the Duke was rather wealthy and powerful and the two of them were to become sisters.
Oh god! I’m to be that awful woman’s sister!she thought, briefly horrified at the notion. Then she brightened at the realization that it would be Marjorie who assumed the role of Duchess of Fenworth, and that the Duke’s sister would be removed from whatever control she maintained over that household.If I must resign myself to this nightmarish fate, I may be under the Duke’s thumb. But she’ll not be telling me what I shall and shouldn’t do, and I dare her to even try!
“But Harriet, let’s think of happy things now,” Marjorie said brightly, troubled by the look on her sister’s face. “We’ll stop off and pay a visit to some friends. Is that all right?”
Harriet nodded numbly, still too burdened by the hurt she’d just received to join in her sister’s excitement. Marjorie patted her hand reassuringly and flicked the reins, leading the small carriage in the direction of a dear friend’s small home, that of Mrs. Bushings.
Mrs. Bushings had been close to her mother, and Marjorie thought of her more as an aunt. The woman’s father had served alongside Marjorie’s maternal grandfather in military service, and had been employed by him when their service was up. As such, his own daughter and Marjorie’s mother had been raised up together as the closest friends anyone could ever imagine.
Now, in her mother’s passing and the loss several years ago of Mrs. Bushings’ husband, Marjorie made sure to call on the woman frequently. She sent provisions to the woman’s home in times of foul weather, and insisted on paying the bill for coal to be delivered throughout the winter months.
It’s precisely what Mother would have done, and it’s what I shall do as well, Marjorie thought.
When they arrived, Mrs. Bushings was outside tending her garden. The front of the cottage was neatly cut back, allowing only a few daring vines to crawl up the front of the cottage. The back, though, hidden from view, was purely functional. Every speck of space was tied up in growing vegetables, and here and there fruit trees or bushes dotted the small space.
“Ah, Lady Marjorie! Lady Harriet! I had no such hope as that you would pay me a visit today!” the older woman cried, clutching her hands together in delight.
Harriet instantly seemed to relax, her earlier fear replaced by the welcoming embrace of someone as wonderful as this. Marjorie tied the reins to the fence post and came around for a hug as well.
“But look at you girls! My, you’re all grown up! And Lady Marjorie, oh but don’t you look exactly like your mother!” Mrs. Bushings wiped at a tear, leaving a smudge of garden soil behind on her cheek.
Marjorie laughed and retrieved her handkerchief, then wiped at the offending smear. “That is the highest compliment I could ever hope for! But how have you been getting on?”
Mrs. Bushings led them to a small bench inside the garden wall and insisted on putting a cloth down before letting the girls sit. She fetched a low wooden stool for herself, then sat facing them. Together, they visited for a good while, talking and laughing until the time came for Marjorie and Harriet to say their goodbyes.
Headed towards home once more, Marjorie sought to comfort Harriet. “See? All you needed was a brief respite away from unpleasantness. Mrs. Bushings is always the perfect refuge from tiresome worries.”
“I agree,” her sister replied with a happy sigh. “I don’t know quite what it is, but she is always the remedy for any unhappiness!”
“Whether it’s because she loves us so well or loved Mother nearly as we did, or perhaps because—forgive me for saying so—Mrs. Bushings who has so little but yet loves so much, in any event, I always leave her presence feeling as though I’m the one who’s been given a gift for having seen her.”
