The Reluctant Duchess (36 page)

“Just a small reminder of how much I enjoyed seeing you wear them,” Annabelle blushed. “And I sincerely hope that I can convince you to wear them more often after the wedding.”

Not wanting to rub his family’s
nose in their relationship, at least not until they were officially married, Richard gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek. He would thank her properly when they were alone.

“They are lovely,” he assured her. “But I'm afraid that my gifts are a little more complicated.”

“Oh?”

“Yes.
Smithers?” he called, and moments later the butler came in with the portrait of Annabelle’s mother.

“Oh, Richard!” She threw her arms about his neck, not caring for propriety at the moment. “Thank you so much.”

“It was my pleasure.”

She pulled away and gazed at the painting, which Smithers had propped up against the cha
ir beside her. Annabelle turned it so the whole family could see. “This is my mother shortly after she married, when she was 19. As some of you know, she is fighting insanity now and is a shadow of the woman I loved.” She turned to thank Richard again, tears shining in her eyes as she hugged him.

“Thank you,” she gasped.

The family all looked touched by his gesture.

“You look very much like her,” Lavinia remarked
whilst Annabelle wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Yes, you do,” Caroline agreed.

“We used to hear that a lot, but she was always more beautiful than I.”

“Nonsense,” Richard gently chastised. “But before I make you cry again, you have another gift,
although it is twofold.”

Annabelle placed the painting against the wall and when Richard took her hand, she followed after him, still wiping errant tears away. He led her out of the front door, his family trailing behind, eager to see her reaction.  In front of the steps stood
Bill, her brother and father’s former stable lad, holding the halter ropes of Mercury and Anchor.

Annabelle stopped dead as she saw them.

“Oh my!”

“I purchased Anchor from the estate; Mr Collier didn’t want much for him, and Mercury I tracked down to a stud farm.”

Annabelle walked forward, as if in a daze. “Oh, my darling boys,” she said, stroking their soft noses. Mercury nuzzled her hip.

“I thought he was supposed to be difficult?” Richard asked
Bill, seeing how tame Mercury appeared.

“He is,” William assured him. “Only young Lady Wyatt could ride him properly. He acted up some with her but much less than with others. We used to say he must have
a crush on her, he was so good and when he did act up, he was just showing off.”

Annabelle had her cheek resting on his mane as she patted his neck. Getting jealous, Anchor
nudged her arm for attention and she patted his neck too.

“
I reckon that’s why he ended up at the stud, too much work for most to ride.”

Mercury
wasn’t a big horse, just 14.2 hands, but he was beautiful; elegance, grace and power, wrapped in a sleek chestnut coat.

Annabelle had
noticed that there was a riding habit among her new clothes but she had never imagined that Richard would buy Anchor for her, who was nothing but a companion horse these days, but to trace Mercury and buy him too? Her tears began to flow freely and Richard stepped up and took her in his arms.

“I meant to make you smile, not cry,” he teased.

Annabelle wiped at her eyes and looked up at him, smiling despite her tears. Mercury butted Richard’s hip with his head, throwing him slightly off balance.

“Looks like someone’s jealous,”
Bill noted and Annabelle laughed as she dried her eyes.

Annabelle spent a few more minutes getting reacquainted with the horses
, before the cold forced them all back inside. Richard poured everyone a glass of mulled wine and they clustered around the fire, warming themselves.

On Boxing Day, Annabelle and Richard decided to ride around the estate whilst he explained its workings to her. Since she hadn’t ridden for six years, she opted to take one of Richard’s quieter horses until she felt confident again. Mercury whinnied and huffed from his stall, banging the door with his hooves.

“I think you’d better improve quickly,” Richard said as he led his horse out of the stable. “Before Mercury destroys the stables.”

Although she seemed nervous at first, Annabelle quickly looked at home in the saddle and they had a few controlled canters between farms on the estate.

They
were out here so that Annabelle could marry the map she had seen, with the farms she now passed and Richard explained how things worked, such as his responsibilities, the rents his tenants paid and the steward’s duties. Although Richard didn’t have much involvement in the day to day running of the estate, he wanted Annabelle to know that he didn’t intend to exclude her from any aspect of his life.

They greeted the few people they saw and Richard introduced Annabelle
, but most tenants were either inside or out on their fields.

They paused in the orchard
on the way back to admire the snow covered view and Richard handed Annabelle his hip flask, to help keep the chill off. She took a long sip and handed it back.

“So, do you think that you could be happy here?” he asked.

Annabelle smiled at him. “Very happy,” she assured him.

They began walking back towards the house.

“Have you given any thought to what you will do with your time?” he asked.

“I did have one idea,” she admitted.

“Oh?”

“Well… I wondered about writing a book, based on my experiences. My recipes are also quite sought
after, so I could include some of those too.”

“An autobiography?” he sounded surprised.

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want that. I would change names, places and details, and probably use a
nom de plume
.”

“So what would the book be about?”

“I don’t know exactly, but there are just so many injustices that I’ve seen, things I would like others to know about. Minnie for example, sent to the workhouse because her employer took advantage of her. Mother as well, suffering because of an illness her husband gave her. Frederick’s tenants, who were driven out of their homes by Frederick’s exorbitant rents. Our class has many privileges that others do not but instead of recognising that, all too often they simply use their power and wealth to abuse those who are less fortunate.”

“It’s a story that needs to be told,” Richard agreed. “Can you write?”

“Have no idea,” Annabelle laughed, “but I think I shall enjoy trying.”

“It’s odd that you should say such a thing,” Richard commented. “I met the editor of the Hampshire Times
whilst you were gone, and he suggested that I consider a career in journalism.”

“Really?” she smiled at him.

“I didn’t agree but I have been thinking about it,” Richard admitted. “I know nothing of writing but like you, I do feel the need to redress some of society’s injustices. As much as I believe Parliament is doing good work, I just don’t think that I’m cut out for that life. Too much politics.” He smiled.

They had reached the stables and dismounted, handing each horse to a stable lad t
o be unsaddled and rubbed down and hand in hand, headed back towards the house to change for lunch.

“Then perhaps after our wedding, we should make a concerted effort to learn about thi
s writing business and start our new careers, along with our new lives,” Annabelle suggested.

“Good idea.
We can work in the library for the time being, as long as my presence won’t put you off.”

“On the contrary, I should probably like your opinion on things at times.”

“And I, yours,” he agreed.

They paused by the rear door to the house.

“How long do we have until lunch is served?” Annabelle asked.

Richard checked his pocket watch. “Forty minutes.”

“Do you think I have enough time to ravish you and change” She asked coquettishly.

“You are an insatiable little minx, Lady Wyatt,” he laughed. “Did you not have your fill of me this morning?”

“You were not wearing britches then. Now you have teased and tempted me all morning and I demand that you sate my desires, lest I suddenly find myself unable to control myself and make a scene in front of your family.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how can I refuse?”

“You can’t,” Annabelle assured him.

He leaned down and captured her lips with his. When he pulled away, t
hey ran to their respective rooms and when they came together, thanks to the dressing room door, the haste of their encounter added a new element to their coupling and Annabelle discovered that sometimes a rushed encounter could be just as pleasurable as their long, languorous bouts of love making.

“Something tells me that you are going to make a very demanding wife,” he said once their needs were temporarily sated.

“You can hardly claim that is news to you,” Annabelle grinned playfully, pausing in her dash to collect up her clothes.

“True,” he agreed. “But watching you run about naked as you collect your clothes, is now giving me very wicked thoughts. I suggest you depart for your own room, before I become a demanding husband.”

Annabelle picked up her boots then with her arms full of clothes, approached him where he still languished on the bed. She kissed him quickly.

“You cannot demand what if freely given,” she teased, then dashed back into her room to dress for lunch, Richard w
arm laugh ringing in her ears.

The End

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The newspaper article quoted at the beginning of Chapter 13 is paraphrased
from an article in the Guardian Newspaper (then The Manchester Guardian) dated Saturday 18 October 1834. You can read the original article below or on the
Guardian’s website
.

Destruction by fire of houses of parliament

The mere announcement to our readers that the
house of lords, the house of commons, and all their various offices, have become a prey to the unsparing element will awaken feelings in which sorrow, astonishment, and doubt will be singularly mingled.

At half-past five in the evening, a friend of ours passed between the houses of parliament and the Abbey, when all was still. Yet within a short hour, the interior of the house of lords was filled with one vast flame, casting its lurid glare far over the horizon, spreading over the silent Thames a vast sheet of crimson that seemed to smother the more feeble rays of the rising moon - bringing out the stately and majestic towers of the abbey in strong relief against the deep blue western sky, playing with seemingly wayward and fantastic scintillations on the inimitable fretwork
of the Seventh Harry's chapel.

The flames first
shewed themselves about half-past six o'clock. They burst forth in the centre of the lords, and burnt with such fury that in less than half an hour, the whole interior presented one entire mass of fire.

By half-past seven o'clock the engines were brought to play upon the building both from the river and the land side, but the flames had by this time acquired such
a predominance that the quantity of water thrown upon them produced no visible effect.

In less than
a hour the entire roof of the house of lords had fallen in. The firemen now abandoned all hopes of saving any part of this portion of the building, and their efforts were wholly directed towards the house of commons, and the preservation of Westminster Hall, which for the beauty of its architecture, and its close connection with some of the most important events of our country's history is equally admired and estimated by the antiquarian, the man of science, and the citizen.

For some time their efforts were successful, but not so ultimately. The wind veered somewhat towards the west, thus throwing the flames immediately upon the
house of commons, the angle of which abutting upon the house of lords, caught fire, and the roof ignited, the woodwork of which being old and dry, the flames spread with the rapidity of wild fire.

In a very short time indeed, the whole of the roof fell in with a tremendous crash, emitting millions of sparks and flakes of fire. This appearance, combined with the sound resembling a piece of heavy ordnance, induced the assembled multitude to believe that an explosion of gunfire had taken place. The scene of confusion which followed baffled the power of description.