The Duke's Reform (12 page)

      They would need
both the gig, and the ancient travelling carriage Sam had purchased, in order
to transport everyone to Newcomb. The two outside men were competent with
horses so could act as coachmen, leaving Sam to ride Sultan, the gelding she'd
acquired from a local farmer.

 She had been thinking about
her return for the past few weeks. She had guessed she was

pregnant
ut
refused to accept it. When the baby was born, whether boy or girl, she intended
leave the infant with her husband and return to Home Farm. Alexander would
never let her take the baby with her. Unless she was prepared to live with him
again she must abandon her child. She swallowed the lump in her throat at this
hideous thought. She blinked back tears—
time
enough to
consider her options when the baby arrived safely.

      The farm was
almost self-sufficient, with good management it might even produce a surplus to
be sold on. The day workers must continue to take care of the livestock in her
absence.

      'Mary, I don't
mean to move into Newcomb; I shall occupy the east wing, the old part of the
house that has not been used for many years. This will require a deal of
cleaning and refurbishment, but will be ideal for my purposes.'

Mary ignored this unusual
suggestion. 'Sam is sending one of the men ahead to reserve accommodation for
us, your grace. In your delicate condition it would be best if we completed the
journey slowly.'

'Thank you, Mary. I'm not looking
forward to being jounced and so will be happy to travel an easy stages.'

Left in idleness gave her too much
time to think. She was not the quiet, timid girl who had married Alexander a
year ago. Today she was able to stand her ground and insist her husband did as
she requested. The horror of a public scandal should work in her
favour
this time. She would agree to act as his hostess if
there were guests, but the remainder of the time she would remain in the east
wing surrounded by those she trusted.

      She prayed the
baby would be a boy. Although she no longer had any feelings for Alexander, she
had spoken her vows in the house of God. By refusing to share his bed she was
breaking them. Therefore, if she produced an heir, at least she could leave
knowing he had the son he so desperately wanted.

The Marquis of Newcomb, as his son
would be called, would have everything a baby needed without his mother being
in residence. No doubt the baby would be removed from her as soon as he was
born, and given over to an army of retainers. A nanny, brought out of
retirement, would hand him to a wet nurse. Isobel would have no control over
his well-
being,
only see him when the nanny chose to
bring him down. Someone of her status was not expected to be involved in
childcare, merely to produce the necessary children.

      This was a
highly unsatisfactory system, but quite normal in wealthy and aristocratic
households. Even in her own home she had seen little of her parents when she
was young. Fortunately
her
nanny had been a kind and loving soul and
provided everything a small child required. Not until she was out of leading
strings did her mother begin to take an interest.

      However, she'd
recently read in a pamphlet about such matters—this had stated quite
categorically that all mothers, not just the poor folk, should feed their children
themselves. The author was calling for women at every level to do what nature
intended. She shrugged, this was another decision she could put off for a few
months.

      She would dearly
like to have visited with her family during the few weeks she had been in
Norfolk. Although Home Farm was less than fifty miles from her birthplace she
hadn't dared to go to Bracken Hall. Her father would have sent word
immediately. He knew which side his bread was buttered and would not risk
offending the golden goose. Being with child was making her maudlin—she must
stifle the feeling and be strong.

*

They travelled at a leisurely pace, taking
three days to complete the distance. The gig, which contained staff and
baggage, had gone ahead in order to ensure the overnight accommodation was
suitable. When the carriage turned through the gates’ of Newcomb, Isobel's
confidence slipped. Making rash decisions was one thing, but carrying them
through in the face of her formidable husband might prove a different proposition.

Mary fussed with her bonnet, shook
out the folds of the travelling cloak and smiled a trifle nervously as the
carriage rocked to a halt outside the enormous building. Isobel expected the
usual army of liveried footmen to pour from the front door. Foster and Maynard
would be waiting to greet her with sneering faces.

      To her
astonishment the door remained closed. She stepped down and stared at the
building, only now seeing the shutters were closed. The house was unoccupied.
Alexander had removed to Grosvenor Square, shut up the house and given up on
her.

      She felt a
moment's regret, but forced it away. So much the better; she would have free
rein
to set herself up before he heard of her return. There
must be a skeleton staff, fires had to be lit on a regular basis or the place
would become damp and uninhabitable during the winter months.

      'Mary, ask Sam
to hammer on the door. There must be someone in.'

 Mary relayed the message
through the window and Sam dismounted and went to speak to the others sitting
in the gig. Othello and Ebony whined to be released. She pushed open the
carriage door and let them explore their new home. They had never been here,
but it would soon become familiar territory. Animals didn't worry about
etiquette and preserving their good name; if they wished to relieve themselves,
a hovel was as good as a palace.

     
Sam's thunderous knocking eventually produced the required result. The door was
unbolted

and
a
flustered middle-aged woman, with her cap askew and her apron strings flapping,
gawped out at him. This was not someone Isobel recognized.

'His grace has moved to London. The
house is under covers and I haven't been told to expect any visitors.'

      'My good woman,
her grace, the Duchess of Rochester, has returned. You’ll do well to mind your
tongue.'

      The servant
glanced at the travelling carriage. On seeing her, the woman paled and threw
her apron over her face as if by so doing she would become invisible.

      Isobel laughed.
'This is quite ridiculous.' She walked forward and gently pulled the apron
down. 'My arrival is totally unexpected. I don't intend to live in the main
part of the house. As soon as it can be cleaned, I shall remove to the east
wing.'

      The woman was
too distressed to do more than curtsy clumsily and step to one side to allow
her to enter. About a dozen servants were arriving, hurriedly buttoning livery
and straightening their caps. They more or less curtsied and bowed in unison.

      Sam and Mary
took charge leaving Isobel to head for the small
parlour
at the rear of the house which would be far easier to heat than any of the
enormous rooms. She spoke to the maid who opened the door. 'Are you the only
staff here at the moment?'

The woman curtsied nervously. 'Yes,
your grace, I'm acting housekeeper
here,
Smith's the
name, your grace. His grace has taken the rest to Grosvenor Square. There's no
one left inside, apart from us few. And all the grooms and such have gone with
him and all the horses too.'

This was exactly the news Isobel
wanted. Without the objectionable Maynard and Foster to interfere she might
well be installed in the east wing with her own people around her before
Alexander became aware of her presence at Newcomb.

 'I am delighted to hear you
say so. I've need of loyal staff of my own. From now on you're in my employ,
and shall become
my
retainers.
Mrs
Watkins is
my housekeeper,
Mr
Watkins my man of business, and
Mr
Brown my butler. I shall leave them to
organise
matters as they see fit.' She turned to Mary.
'Send someone along to light fires in the small
parlour
and also in the yellow guest suite. I shall sleep there until the east wing is
ready for occupation.'

A tall young man bowed to her.
'If I may be permitted to speak, your grace.
There's nothing
we'd like more than to serve you. We've not had an easy time working here.
We're all recently taken on, that's why
Mrs
Maynard
and
Mr
Foster left us here on half pay.'

      'Good— I require
my staff to be loyal to
me
. I wish no mention of my arrival to reach
London. Do I have your assurances on this matter?'

      A chorus of
assent ran round the circle. Satisfied she had made progress in her desire to
be recognized as a person in her own right, and not merely an adjunct of the
duke, she left her staff to get on with what they did best. In less than an
hour she was warm and
cosy
and drinking tea served on
the best china.

*

The next few days were a bustle of activity as
her minions cleaned and prepared the east wing for her. Mary insisted she remained
with her feet up, reading and sewing.

'The east wing is in good shape, my
lady, considering how long it has been left unoccupied.'

'How long before I can move in?'

'I've fires burning in every chamber.
I reckon the place will be warm and dry in no time. The furniture and curtains
you've selected from here are being transferred this afternoon. Sam says you
can come and see for yourself later on.'

At three o'clock, just as night was
drawing in, Sam escorted Isobel from Newcomb and around to her new home. This
section was accessed by its own front door and there were no communicating
entrances. The east wing was beginning to look like a place where she could be
comfortable. The ceilings here were considerably lower, the rooms less vast and
although it did not have the modern appointments of Newcomb, it made up for it
in other ways. The building was of ancient construction and had been the
original Newcomb before the current mausoleum had been added by Alexander's
grandfather.

For the first time she felt in
control of her own destiny, not beholden to her parents or her autocratic
husband. By the end of March the entire staff had

transferred
to join her. Extra servants had
been taken on from the village, and so far no one had seen fit to send news to
Grosvenor Square that she was in residence.

 Mary had the house running
like clockwork; Bill was a magnificent butler, firm but fair and, more
importantly, he was almost as tall as her husband and much younger and fitter.
She was praying that he would not allow the duke to barge his way when he
eventually arrived to confront her.

      She had not been
in residence long when the estate manager,
Mr
Reynolds, approached her. 'Your grace, forgive me for bothering you, but your
tenants and their cottages are in dire straits. There have been no repairs or
improvements here for many years. Two children died from lack of warmth last
week.'

‘That’s appalling,
Mr
Reynolds. I give you permission to instigate any repairs
necessary. Get the men to do the work themselves and pay them for it. Make sure
there is enough fuel for everyone and give food where it is in short supply.'

Alexander had been irresponsible.
How could he have been so lax with his duties? He prided himself on his birth,
his ancestry, and yet he had neglected the most crucial part of his
inheritance— taking care of those dependent on him.

Reynolds beamed, his cheeks glowing
from the cold. 'Thank you, your grace. I've access to sufficient funds which I
usually draw on for day-to-day matters. If we get started right away by the
time the depredations are noticed the work will be completed.' He grinned, and
looked almost boyish in his excitement.

      'Do whatever you
have to, spend what you need, but I suggest everything is done as

rapidly
as possible. I'm sure you
understand the necessity for speed.'

      'I do. What's
done can't be undone. I reckon we've got a month before … well a month to get
things done.'

      The estate
manager went about his business leaving her to contemplate the scale of what
she'd

set
in motion. This was tantamount to stealing; as
the duchess she had no legal right to her husband’s money. He would come
hurtling down from Grosvenor Square when he noticed the discrepancies in his accounts.
Was that why she'd given her permission without a second thought? Did she feel
now was the time to tell him of her condition?

 Word had spread around the
neighbourhood
that she had returned and had
authorised
much-needed improvements. Everyone knew she had
no right to do so, but the artisans had done the work anyway. When the duke
eventually came he would be faced with a
fait accompli.
All his tenants
would be well housed
and there would be nothing he could do about it,
apart from rant and rave.