The Duke's Challenge (3 page)

Charlotte
shuddered. What had she brought the children to? Her mother had always spoken
of Thurston Hall as well appointed, well run and comfortable. Had grandfather
lost his fortune dabbling in the funds? Or had he gambled it away? A small
door, hidden in the dark panelled wall, flew open and Annie emerged a tray in
her hands.

‘You
scamps
! Poor Betty’s searching everywhere for you. Your
breakfast is ready and waiting in your parlour. Off you go now.’

‘Can we come
back afterwards, please, Lottie, there’s so much to tell you?’

‘Yes, of
course you can.’ She watched the children run out, her brow creased.

‘Annie, they’ve been telling the most dreadful tales. Please assure me
they’re exaggerating about the state of this establishment.’

‘No, miss,
they aren’t. This place is a disgrace, falling down almost, and no staff to
keep it clean.
Only three footmen and the butler and no outside
men at all, apart from a couple of grooms and the coachman.’

Charlotte’s
head began to thump, her initial optimism fading. ‘And grandfather?’

‘That’s the
worst of it, miss. Your grandpa died two years since. The present duke is a
madman, begging your pardon, Miss Carstairs.’

‘Whatever do
you mean?’

‘Well, when
he isn’t hiding away in his rooms drinking brandy, he’s galloping all over the
neighbourhood on one of his half-broken stallions. He takes no interest in the
house, estate or his own appearance.’

‘Go on,
Annie, what are you not telling me?’

‘Well, miss,
he has said as we are to leave here as soon as you’re well. I told him he was
now your legal guardian but he was having none of it. He said as he would
discuss the matter with you when you were up to it.’

Charlotte
closed her eyes in despair. If Lord Thurston turned them out they would be
destitute, taken to the poorhouse, or worse. She could not let this happen. If
only her head didn’t hurt so much she was sure she would be able to think of a
solution. She drew a calming breath and the appetising smell of hot chocolate
and warm fresh bread wafted across from the tray Annie was holding.

‘I believe I
am hungry. Maybe when I’ve eaten, bathed and dressed
I
shall feel more ready to face this problem.’

‘You mustn’t
get up, Miss Carstairs, the doctor was adamant. But he’ll be calling later
today and you can ask him then when it’s permissible for you to get dressed.’

She smiled,
when had Annie become so determined? ‘Very well, but I would really like a bath
and fresh nightwear.’

‘There’s a
hip-bath in the dressing-room. I’ll have it filled for you whilst you’re
eating,’ Annie told her with a smile.

By
mid-afternoon, bathed and refreshed, Charlotte sat propped up in a freshly made
bed, her young brother and sister beside her. So far she had heard the stables
held only two riding horses and four matched bays to pull either a high-perch
phaeton or a curricle. There were no cats or dogs to play with, but there was
an overgrown maze in the garden. She thought it odd that neither child had
mentioned the duke.

‘Beth, what
is Lord Thurston like, what manner of man is he?’

‘We’ve only
seen him the once, Lottie, when we arrived. He is very tall and he has long
dark hair tied at the back with a ribbon.’

Harry joined
in. ‘He’s broad as well, he has dirty boots on and he stays in his rooms.’

‘Well, I
shall just have to wait until I am well enough to get up a meet him for
myself.’

‘Annie and
Betty have spoken with him so they can tell you what he’s like,’ Beth told her.

‘In that
case, I shall ask one of them when they return. Do you know exactly where they
are, Beth? It seems an age since I saw either one.’

‘They’re
scrubbing out the kitchen because it was full of….’

‘Oh pray,
don’t tell me! I’ve no desire to know what awful things reside in there.’

Beth grinned.
‘Can we go down to the maze? You can see it from your window if you look out
and then we can wave to you.’

‘As I’m in bed that’s of little help.
But go – I’m sure it
is safe. Please tell Annie to come and speak to me on your way out to the
garden.’

She swung her
legs to the floor for the second time that day. Her head remained on her
shoulders and her legs didn’t tremble. She stood, holding on to an oak corner
post to steady
herself
. Should she risk a small walk
around the room? She would dearly like to see the maze; she recalled her mother
had mentioned it once.

The journey
to the window was slow but completed without mishap. She collapsed gratefully
on the wooden window seat and rested her face against the leaded panes. Yes,
there it was, but where were the smooth lawns and trimmed and cultivated
flowerbeds? Before her was a veritable meadow - long golden grass flecked with
late poppies and cornflowers stretched in all directions. The yew maze was
discernible but so dense she wondered how the children managed to negotiate it.

The stone
mullion was cool beneath her fingertips and she was glad she had on her thick
wrapper. She heard heavy footsteps approaching and smiled. At last; Annie was coming
up to answer her questions. It didn’t occur to her to question why her maid
servant was not using the servant’s passage.

The knock on
the door was loud, startling her. ‘Come in.’

The bed
chamber door swung open and a man, in his shirt sleeves and stockings, burst
in. Her mouth rounded in shock. His eyes narrowed in appreciation.

‘I beg your
pardon for intruding, Miss Carstairs, but I need to talk to you.’

She shrunk
back into the embrasure, her hands clenched in her lap. He looked so big, so
tough and so very angry. Only then did she notice the vicious scars that ran
from right side of his temple, down across the corner of his eye to his mouth.
He was a soldier, no wonder he appeared formidable.

‘Excuse me…
your grace, but I must ask you to leave my room, this instant.’

His mouth
curled with contempt. These words had an all too familiar ring. ‘I shall do as
you bid. But speak to you I shall and sooner, rather than later.’

She watched
him straighten his shoulders and turn. He swayed and for a moment she thought
he would fall, but he regained control of his limbs and left the chamber as
abruptly as he had entered. She felt strangely stimulated by the unexpected
encounter. She scrambled to her feet and walked across to the bell rope by the
mantelshelf.

She tugged it
hard. There was a rattle, a cloud of plaster and dust, and it came free from
the ceiling leaving a gaping hole in its place. Coughing and spluttering, she
stepped away from the debris.

‘Good lord,
miss, whatever next?’ Annie bustled in, her round features creased with
concern.

‘I am unhurt
but I now have a large hole in my ceiling.’ She grinned. ‘I have just received
a visit from the duke. I know, don’t poker up, Annie, I sent him out
immediately.’

‘I should
hope so too. Whatever was Lord Thurston thinking of to visit you here?’

‘I don’t
believe he was thinking at all, I believe he was a trifle bosky. Imagine coming
to see me in his shirt sleeves and stockings!’

‘And you
should not be out of bed,
remember
what Dr Andrews
said?’

Charlotte
shrugged. ‘I have no recollection of any doctor saying anything. However, I
intend to get up, with or without your assistance.’

‘If you insist, Miss Carstairs.
You sit down on the bed
whilst I fetch your garments. Is there anything particular you wish to wear?’

There was not
a great deal of choice in her limited wardrobe. ‘I should like to wear my green
afternoon dress.
The one with the long sleeves and high neck
line.’
She had no intention of exposing her bosom to the duke twice in
one day.

It took longer
than usual for Charlotte to be dressed to her satisfaction. ‘I think that will
suffice, Annie, thank you. It’s too painful to have my hair up. I shall have to
leave it in a braid down my back, like Beth.’ She stood up, surprised to find
her legs unsteady. Furtively, she gripped the bed post, it would never do to
betray her weakness or her maid might insist that she accompanied her
downstairs.

‘The children
are outside in the garden and I’m going to join them, but first I shall sit
down for a while, and enjoy the view from the window. I’m sure you have duties
to perform elsewhere, Annie. Beth was telling me about the kitchen.’

‘Indeed I do,
miss. The house is a disgrace. I must go down right away and find someone to
repair the ceiling. You cannot sleep in this room until it is done.’

Charlotte
shivered. ‘Rats?’

Annie nodded.
‘What we need here are a couple of cats and a terrier or two, they would soon
rid the place of vermin.’

Charlotte
waited until Annie vanished through the servant’s door. Then stood up, shook
out her skirts, checked her appearance for the final time and left the
comparative safety of her chamber to seek an audience with Lord Thurston.

Chapter Three

Charlotte paused; the passage stretched in both directions the sunlight
highlighting the cobwebs that festooned the ceilings and walls. She smiled as
she realised all she had to do was follow Lord Thurston’s footprints in the
dust, for they were clearly discernible on the floor. She didn’t attempt to
look through the grimy windows; she could guess what scenes of neglect would
meet her eye.

The long
corridor became lighter as she approached the gallery that overlooked the
entrance hall. She glanced down not surprised to see the hem of her gown was
already blackened. Her mouth curled ruefully; she doubted the duke would
notice, in his inebriated state. She admired the ornately carved banisters,
noticing the heraldic animals and flowers but, like the rest of the house, they
were
sadly
in need of a good polish.

The entrance
hall was deserted - no sign of the butler or any footmen. She stopped, unsure
which of the many closed doors
was the one she sought
.
Following the stocking prints down here was impossible, there were too many
other marks obscuring them.

‘Can I help
you, Miss Carstairs?’ The voice came from behind her and Charlotte exclaimed in
shock.

‘Good heavens! You startled me.’ She glared at the elderly man in faded
black tailcoat. ‘I presume you are the butler?’

‘Yes, miss.’
He bowed. ‘I am Meltham, at your service.’

‘In which
room shall I discover Lord Thurston? I wish to speak to him urgently.’ She saw
the shocked expression on the butler’s face. ‘Lord Thurston had the temerity to
visit me in my chambers. I agreed to come down directly and speak to him in
more suitable surroundings.’ This was a half-truth but it served.

Meltham
relaxed. ‘In that case, Miss Carstairs, I shall announce you.’ He frowned. ‘I
must inform you, miss, that his grace is not quite himself this afternoon.’

‘If you are
trying to tell me in a roundabout way that he is in his cups then I am well
aware of that, I can assure you.’

‘I shall
remain in the vicinity, Miss Carstairs, in case you should have need of me.’
She understood his message.

‘Thank you.
That’s kind of you.’

The butler
led her across the dark empty space which even the glass, set into the high
vaulted ceiling, failed to illuminate. For these panes were so obscured by dirt
they failed to let in sufficient sunlight. Charlotte fixed her eyes ahead,
resolutely ignoring the signs of decay all around her.

The butler
halted in front of dark panelled doors, almost indistinguishable in a wall of
the same material. He knocked,
then
paused, waiting to
hear the reply.

‘Come in,
damn you, Meltham.’

Charlotte
stood behind him, her fingers clenched into fists and her pulse racing.

‘Are you quite sure you wish to see his grace? Perhaps it would be
better to leave it until another time, Miss Carstairs?’

‘No, announce
me, please. I shall see him.’ Her voice did not reflect her nervousness.

The doors
were opened and the butler stepped aside. A wave of alcoholic fumes, and the
stench of unwashed humanity, engulfed her and for an instant she recoiled.
Forcing down her distaste she tried to see past Meltham into the gloom beyond.

‘Miss
Carstairs wishes to speak to you, your grace, are you receiving visitors this
afternoon?’

There was a
pause, as if he was considering his response. Then a deep baritone replied. ‘Then
send her in, man, send her in.’

The room was
dark, the shutters closed, blocking out the autumn sunlight and a huge fire
burned brightly in the cavernous fireplace making the room not only foul
smelling but uncomfortably hot. She took a few tentative steps forward but was
still unable to see her quarry. Where was he? Slowly her eyes adjusted and a
slight movement from the depths of a battered leather armchair, facing the
fire, attracted her attention.

She moved
further into the room. Yes – this was he! Lord Thurston had not bothered to
stand up to greet her and this omission annoyed her. He sprawled, glass in
hand, his face hidden by the wings of the chair. This was outrageous! How dare
he treat her so uncivilly? First he barged into her bedchamber now he remained
seated in her presence. The man was a disgrace to his title. Grandfather must
be turning in his grave.

Fuelled by
her righteous indignation at his unmannerly behaviour, she sailed across the
room to halt a few feet from him. ‘Lord Thurston, you are no gentleman.’

His harsh
laugh made her regret her rash decision to enter his domain. ‘I do not profess
to be one. I am as you see me; either accept, or depart, the choice is yours.’

She was
tempted to retreat, leaving him to his brandy and self-pity, but this matter
must be settled. She was fighting for the survival of her family. ‘May I be
seated, Lord Thurston?’ Her voice dripped scorn. He waved a hand in the
direction of a second leather chair placed far too close to his. Charlotte
swallowed her fear and took the indicated seat. A smell of stale feet rose to
greet her and she gagged; for an awful moment she thought she would cast up her
accounts.

She closed
her eyes as a wave of dizziness engulfed her. Cold perspiration prickled her
forehead and desperately she clutched her handkerchief to her mouth. To her
astonishment she was lifted and carried to the locked French doors. She heard
him release the catches and she was outside, and fresh clean air filled her
lungs.

‘Hold still,
here is a bench. I shall place you on it.’ The tenderness in his voice sent a
different kind of tremor down her spine. ‘There, you can open your eyes now,
Miss Carstairs, and breathe freely without fear of inhaling my stench.’

She opened
her eyes and carefully avoided looking in his direction whilst she drew in a
lungful of sweet air. ‘I must apologise for my indisposition, Lord Thurston. I
am obviously not as fully recovered as I had hoped.’

‘It is I who
must apologise.’ His voice was sincere, all traces of roughness gone. She
risked a glance and her involuntary smile surprised them both.

‘Good
heavens, my lord, you are in no state to have been carrying me. You are swaying
like a reed in the wind. Please seat yourself before it is I who must assist
you.’

He folded his
length onto the far end the stone bench, the undamaged side of his face towards
her.

‘Lord
Thurston, my maid tells me that you wish us to leave here?’ When he didn’t
answer she half turned to face him. He was staring at his feet. ‘This has to be
our home now; we have nowhere else to go. You are our only living relative and
however remote the connection it is your duty to provide for us.’

Still she
received no answer. She watched him flex his toes, clearly visible through the
holes in his stockings, and her temper flared. ‘For heaven’s sake, what ails
you? My father
died
from his wounds,
you are lucky, you have your life. You must put aside your self-pity and take
charge of your responsibilities.’

She saw his
shoulders stiffen and the muscles in his neck contract, but he didn’t answer or
look her way. Unwisely she decided to continue her attack. ‘Why should so many
others have to suffer because
you
have been disfigured? Have you no compassion? Your tenants and villagers are
starving because of your neglect, they…’ Her words ended on a squeak at his arm
shot out and his hand clamped, vice-like, around her arm.

Finally he
turned. ‘Enough! You forget yourself, Miss
Carstairs,
it is I who am master here.’ His slate grey eyes bored into her, daring her to
reply.

She dropped
her head, defeated by his rage. ‘I beg your pardon, my lord. I spoke out of
turn. I had no right to criticise you.’ The band around her arm was removed and
she heard him stand up. Dare she risk a glance? Or would she be impaled by that
dagger stare again?

She looked up
and to her astonishment he was smiling, his anger gone as quickly as it had
come. She smiled back and when he held out his hand she took it, allowing him
to pull her to her feet. He released his hold once she was upright.

‘Well, that
was invigorating! You’re the first person to have the courage to tell me what I
already know.’

‘My
lord, if you know you are… you are
neglecting your duties,
why do you do so?’

He shook his
head and was forced to brace himself against the wall as he swayed dangerously.
‘I lost the only thing I cared for when this happened.’ He ran strong fingers
down his scar. ‘It’s not my fault the estate is in decay. I found it this way
when I arrived. Your precious grandfather let it go.’ Having recovered his
equilibrium he straightened. ‘I merely exist here. I am a tenant at Thurston
Hall as much as anyone else.’

Her jaw
dropped. She had never heard such fustian. ‘Lord Thurston….’ she hesitated,
unwilling to antagonise him a second time. ‘Your grace, may I speak freely?’

He half
bowed, his expression guarded, his tone chilly. ‘Pray continue, Miss Carstairs.
I cannot wait to hear what else you have to tell me.’

‘If you wish
to— she paused - perhaps, ‘wallow’ was not a good choice. She wracked her brain
for a more suitable word. ‘If you wish to remain in your chambers… repining on
your fate then so
be
it, but that’s no reason why
someone else should not run the estate for you. I presume that there are still
sufficient funds to do this?’

He shrugged.
‘I have no idea how matters stand. I never bothered to enquire. But please feel
free to interfere as much as you wish, my dear; if you can persuade the lawyers
to speak to you, find the funds to run the estate, then go ahead, you have my
full permission to do so.’

‘You are
jesting, my lord! How can I run the estate? I have not yet reached my majority
and even when I do, women have no rights under the law.’

His smile was
not friendly.
‘Exactly!
However I shall have a
document drawn up giving you permission to spend funds and order things as you
wish.’

‘Let me
understand you, my lord. You’re willing to allow us to stay here; you’re not
going to send us away?’

‘Ah- yes!
But, my dear, Miss Carstairs, there is a proviso. You and those brats can remain
at Thurston Hall only if you can show demonstrable improvements to the estate
at the end of a specified time.’

‘But that’s
impossible. It’s an outrageous suggestion - how can I act as your bailiff?’

‘That is my
stipulation, however. I shall give you… let me see… two months from today. If
you fail to improve the estate in any significant way then you shall all leave
here, never to return. Is that clear?’

She glared at
the hateful man staring down at her. ‘You have given me no alternative. I
accept your challenge. But my two months cannot start until the necessary
documents have been drawn up by the lawyers.’

He nodded.
‘Very well.
I’ll do that much, after that the matter shall
rest entirely on your shoulders. Do not think to come to me every five minutes
for assistance.’

She leapt to
her feet, her anger giving her the courage she required to answer him. ‘You are
despicable. As I have said before, you are a disgrace to your name. But, do not
worry, I shall be more than happy to allow you to wallow in your filth and
drink yourself to death whilst
I
am
the one to save Thurston from ruin.’

She saw his
fingers turn into fists and wondered, for a moment, if he would strike her but
she stood her ground. He did not answer her taunts. Then unexpectedly his
shoulders slumped and he retreated back into his lair and there was a click as
he locked the doors behind him.

Her anger
dissipated but so did her confidence. With a sigh of despair she slumped back
on to the stone bench. They were both insane - he to offer her such a challenge
and she to accept it. But at least she had gained them two months respite and a
lot could happen in that time.

She
considered the irascible duke. Perhaps he was not all bad - after all he had
taken care of her twice in the past few days. He just had to be shown his
injuries were superficial, that he was the same man on the inside as he had
always been. Her lips parted and an interesting heat suffused her limbs. In
spite of his scars he was still a fine looking man. He stood well over six feet
in his stockings and, as Harry had said, his shoulders were broad. That his
arms were strong she could vouch for herself. How could he have given up so
completely? What was it he had said? That he had lost the only thing he cared
for—that had to mean a woman had rejected him. She could understand this, for
after all, grief at losing the man she loved, had eventually killed her own
mother.

She strolled
along the terrace, making sure she didn’t trip on the broken edges of the
flagstones. She went to the far edge of the paved expanse and stared up at the
massive edifice. She was delighted to note most of the many dozen windows were
intact - a good clean with vinegar and paper should soon get them pristine
again.

The roof,
where she stood, appeared sound; it had no sagging gutters and none of the
orange peg-tiles were missing. Well, at least she would not have to deal with a
leaks as well as a vermin infested interior.

It took her a
further fifteen minutes to find her way to what was effectively the rear of the
house, although this was where carriages drove up and where guests and
residents alike entered the ancient building. The front - from where she had
just come - faced the park and had a grand staircase leading down to what she
supposed had once been an ornamental lake. Its surface was now so weed covered
this was indistinguishable from the grass that grew all around it.