Chapter Five

 

Lady Honeyfield tightened the last stay of the dress Lucy had chosen, which only added to Lucy’s confusion. Why should her mother insist on helping her dress when they had perfectly good servants to aid them? Then her mother said words that made Lucy cringe and then grow angrier.

“Love him?” Lucy spat as she spun around to face Lady Honeyfield. “Oh, Mother, enough of this!” She raised her hands in the air and stomped away, furious that the woman insisted on continuing this punishment over one simple error in judgment. However, when she glanced behind her and caught her mother’s eyes, she recognized the reality that, for the eighteen years she had known her, her mother had never lied to her. Lucy turned and stared at the woman who had loved her and raised her as terror coursed through her. She had to know the truth.

“Is it true, then?” she asked, her voice now timid rather than raging. “I am twenty? And…and married? To Lord Balfour?”

Lady Honeyfield nodded and took Lucy’s hands in hers. As Lucy looked deep into her brown eyes, the eyes which Lucy had inherited and which had always been truthful, she knew what her mother had said was so. “Yes, my dear, it is true,” her mother said. “But worry not, Doctor Cooke said that, in time, you will regain your memory. You have no wifely duties to which you must attend, nor studies to complete. Your only task is to rest and heal. It is what is best for you at the moment.”

Lucy swallowed hard. If she was married, then that meant she and Lord Balfour…She shook her head. The thought of the rogue pressing his body against hers made her shiver.

“Are you getting a chill, my dear?” her mother asked. “Would you like a wrap? Do you need something to eat? Or perhaps a drink? A cup of tea?”

Lucy shook her head. “No, I am well. Thank you.” Her head was swimming and what she needed was to flee to the gardens and be left alone. She walked over to the window and looked down onto the vast gardens below. They were not her gardens but those of a Duke, a man for whom she cared not. It was strange looking out over bright green leaves and red and yellow flowers that ran along the footpath. What she had expected was a drab winter setting with either several shades of browns and grays or even a blanket of white, for it had snowed the previous evening, at least in her memories. Sadness filled her heart, fighting with the anger that had been there. If what her mother said was true, and Lucy no longer doubted that it was, what brought her to the point of choosing to marry Lord Balfour?

The rustle of her mother’s skirts as she came to stand next to Lucy made Lucy turn. “Did you and father force me to marry…him?” The thought of saying his name aloud made her think of indecent incantations that were said to bring forth demons. Not that she had anything to do with such things, but it was what had come to mind. “How did this marriage come about?”

Her mother sighed. “His Grace had asked your father’s permission to court you. Of course, you said no at first, though your father readily agreed. You courted for an entire year, and I watched as the two of you fell in love.” Her voice had become slightly dreamy, which Lucy found irritating. “You were married only two months ago.”

Lucy attempted to bring forth even a shred of memory of any time she had shared with Lord Balfour, outside of the dreaded kiss he had given her, but she could not bring forth even one.

“And how did I come to be bedridden for these last months?”

Lady Honeyfield turned and smiled. “I believe that should wait until later,” she replied. “You have had a difficult day as it is.” She took Lucy’s hand. “Come, let us get you something to eat.”

Lucy nodded and followed her mother obediently into the hallway. As they walked down the unfamiliar passage, she could not help but be impressed with the paintings that hung from the wall. Many of the portraits were family as the subjects of the paintings resembled the current Duke in many ways with their raven hair and blue eyes.

A door opened and a maid exited, a woman perhaps a year or so older than Lucy, followed by the dreaded Lord himself. His eyes widened as he came to an immediate stop. Lucy smiled. She remembered the rumors about him and the many women he took to his bed; had he continued those trysts while she lay ill in a bed upstairs? She would not put it past him.

“Your Grace,” Lady Honeyfield said with a nod, “I was going to have something to eat with Lucy, if that is permissible.”

The Duke nodded. “Please, you have free reign of the house; you are not required to ask my permission. Our home, that is, my home and my servants are at your command.” His eyes fell to Lucy as a smile played on his lips. What was this innocent expression he had on his face, as if he were happy to see her? Or was he attempting to stifle a laugh?

“Thank you, Your Grace,” Lady Honeyfield replied. “I will be returning to Foxglove Estate tomorrow. I have sent a letter before me to inform my husband that she has awoken and will send my daughter Mary a note so she is aware of this good news, as well.”

“Excellent,” the Duke replied. He then turned to Lucy. “Lucy…that is, Miss Honeyfield, this is Hannah. She is a servant in this house and she will be your lady's maid.”

The woman dropped into a deep curtsy. She seemed pleasant enough, but Lucy found the idea that she must have someone there to keep an eye on her revolting. Did he expect her to cause some sort of mischief?

“I do not plan to steal your brandy,” Lucy said as she shot Lord Balfour a glare. “However, I will enjoy the company of another woman while my mother is away. Of course, I will not need her company at all times.”

“Of course, Miss Honeyfield,” he replied with a nod of his head. “Ladies, if you will excuse me, I have some business to attend to. However, as I said before, you are welcome to go to the dining room and ask for whatever your heart desires.” He then turned to Hannah, now Lucy’s lady’s maid. “Hannah, please inform Carol that Lady and Miss Honeyfield are ready to eat.”

Hannah dropped into another curtsy. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said.

Lucy followed her mother through a set of double doors off a grand foyer. She did not take the time to admire what was around her as she sneaked a glance over her shoulder. Expecting to find the doorway now empty, Lucy was surprised to see the Duke leaning against the door frame. Rather than the sneer she would have expected, she saw instead a smile and wondered what dastardly plans the man had in mind for her.

***

Lucy entered the gardens of Chudleigh Hill, an area that was twice, perhaps even thrice the size of Foxglove Estate, her childhood home. Hannah walked by her side, as her mother had excused herself to return to her rooms to lie down and rest, expressing that the events of the day had tired her. Although Lucy had eaten a slice of toasted bread with marmalade, her body continued to feel weak. Her mind was clear, however, and her head no longer ached, which was much more important to her at the moment. Granted, she would be dependent for a while longer on the aid of others, but at least she was thinking clearly. Her new companion had a kind smile, and though she was pretty for a servant girl, Lucy wondered from where her thoughts of this woman and her possible intimacies with Lord Balfour stemmed. However, she could not shake them from her mind.

As they made their way to the first turn in the footpath, Lucy went to a bench which sat under a large elm tree and sat to rest. Hannah, however, refused to sit; instead, she stood behind the bench with her hands clutched in front of her and her head down.

“So, Hannah,” Lucy said in a conversational tone so as not to scare the poor girl, “tell me how you came to work for the Duke.”

Hannah swiped at her dress in a nervous manner but then looked directly at Lucy. “Well, Miss Honeyfield…”

Lucy cut her off. “Now, we are to be good friends, are we not?” When Hannah nodded, though a bit reluctantly, Lucy continued, “Then please call me Lucy.”

Although Hannah looked a bit taken aback, she finally agreed. “Very well…Lucy.” Her voice shook as she practiced using the Christian name of someone well above her station, but then she smiled shyly and continued. “It’s been a year plus a half when I came under His Grace’s employ as a scullery maid. Then I was moved up to a chamber maid in my second year here, and then…well, here I am.” She shook her head in disbelief.

Lucy gave a short laugh. “And are you married?”

Hannah shook her head emphatically. “Oh, no, Miss, Robert, the cobbler’s assistant in town, and I have become quite friendly. You remember him, don’t you?”

“I believe I do,” she lied. It was easier to simply agree than to admit aloud that she could not remember even visiting Chudleigh Hill, let alone confess she did not know a person she purportedly should recall. However, this Hannah had been in Lord Balfour’s employ during the time Lucy was supposedly courted by, and ultimately married to, the Duke. Perhaps the woman could give her some insight into what she had missed.

“Hannah, do you remember when the Duke and I courted?”

“Of course,” she said with a laugh. Her eyes widened and then she covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, I am so sorry! Please forgive me for laughing.”

Lucy placed a hand on Hannah’s. “Come, sit beside me,” she insisted, patting the bench next to her. Hannah walked around the bench timidly and sat, looking quite uncomfortable. “Now, will you please tell me what you find so humorous?” She spoke in as kind a tone as she could, and yet Hannah continued looked down at her hands. “Do not be nervous,” Lucy assured her. “No one will be angry, I promise.”

Hannah gave a deep sigh. “Well, the first time you visited was a week after you and His Grace began courting. His Grace was in one of his moods because it was raining and you…” —she paused and looked up at Lucy— “you tormented him.”

Lucy laughed. It did sound much like something she might have done. “How did I torment him exactly?”

Hannah’s cheeks went pink. “Well, you complained about the tea, the furniture, the gardens. You even winked at me as you did so.”

“I winked at you?” Lucy asked with a raise of her eyebrows. “So, we have become friends?”

“Yes, as friendly as a Lady and a servant can be, that is,” Hannah replied with a wide smile. “You confided many things to me, and I have never told a soul anything you’ve told me.” Now her smile was proud as she sat up straighter on the bench.

Lucy contemplated this information and came to realize this was not surprising. Hannah was a kind person, an easy woman to whom she could speak, and if she was visiting as early as a week after she and Lord Balfour had begun courting, she would have searched out someone from whom she could glean information. Someone who might have been on the side of the enemy, as it were.

How strange it was to think of the man she was said to have married as the enemy; however, from what she could recall of the Duke of Pendlow, she would have needed as much support as she could muster.

Hannah placed a timid hand on Lucy’s. “It’s all right, Your Gra…em…Lucy,” she said softly. “I know you have forgotten a lot of things. But if you need to know anything, all you need to do is ask. If I know, I’ll tell you. I promise.”

Lucy gave Hannah a grateful smile. There was so much she did not know, so many questions she wished to ask; however, one thing stood above the others. “My mother said that Lord Balfour and I fell in love. I cannot imagine for the life of me that being possible, but I know that my mother does not lie.”

“No, she hasn’t.”

“Very well. You saw the Duke and I together many times.” Lucy gave Hannah a beseeching look. “Was I in love with him?”

Hannah nodded, her blue eyes shining. “‘Tis true,” she said. “I was there to watch it all unfold in front of my very eyes. It was a beautiful thing to witness, the two of you looking at each other wistfully and all.”

This brought on more confusion, and Lucy could not fathom how she could have ever fallen in love with such a man as Lord Balfour. “Everyone speaks of a love we both shared,” she said, almost to herself. “However, I must admit that I do not feel love for him. How can it be that I had once loved a man but now feel nothing but disdain for him?” A bird landed on a branch of a nearby bush, and something tickled her mind, but she could not recall what it was.

Before she was able to truly pry into the memory, Hannah said, “It’s all right. I’m sure, in time, you’ll remember everything.”

“I must ask another question,” Lucy said, this time with more decisiveness. “I want you to be completely honest.”

“I would never lie to you,” Hannah replied firmly. “Friends don’t do things like that.” She used the word ‘friends’ in a very proud manner, as if it was a word of binding.

“Did I marry Lord Balfour of my own free will, or did my father force me? Or anyone else for that matter? Did the Duke blackmail my parents per chance?”

Hannah shook her head, and Lucy realized what she had feared was about to be confirmed. “You married His Grace by your own choice. No one forced you to, not your parents, or His Grace. You married him because you loved him.”

Lucy let out a sigh as she watched the bird flit from branch to branch until it finally flew away. So, she had somehow come to love Lord Balfour, that had now been confirmed by both her mother and Hannah. However, a new question arose, a more pressing question which bothered her deeply.

Did she want to remember why?