The Emerald Duchess (7 page)

“Once more I have to remind you, Bella, that I am a married woman, and it would be perfectly in order if I decided to travel with only Nelly as my companion. In going with the Dagglestons I merely mean to ease my journey.”

“But to tear off like this, with never a word to
me
!
Why did you not tell me of your intentions? I would have done my best to stop you—”

“And that is why I did not tell you, Bella,” Lady Quentin interrupted. “I did not wish to argue the matter. It is my decision, not yours.”

“But if your mind is quite made up, I consider it my duty to go with you,” Miss Quentin argued. “In fact, I insist you stay until I can be ready to accompany you.”

“You insist?” Lady Quentin asked in a calm little voice. “But it is not your place to insist. You have no jurisdiction over me, Bella. I think you forget yourself.”

“How dare you?” Miss Quentin hissed. “I am Tony’s nearest relative, and if it were not for me, he would not be where he is today.”

“We have all heard time out of mind of your generosity and concern for Tony,” Lady Quentin agreed. “And how it was your portion that bought him his commission, and how you have never married so you might remain by his side to help him. But there is no need for that now, Bella, for Tony is a married man, and as his wife
and
nearest relation, I am here to help him. Furthermore, I should be most happy to give you a draft on my bank and repay you for the money you so nobly advanced for my husband’s benefit. That would release us from the obligation and allow you to fashion a life of your own as well.”

“How dare you,” Miss Quentin said again in a failing voice. “I did what I did freely out of love. And Tony depended on me long before
you
came along.” She tittered angrily. “In fact, I am sure he depends on me first even now, for you have so little sense.”

Lady Quentin was silent for a moment, and then she said, “I cannot tell you, Bella, how tired I am of your continued interference. In fact, since we are finishing this bout with the gloves off, I must tell you I have often resented your constant attendance, your never-ending advice, and your sure assumption that both Tony and I would be helpless if you were not here to steer us right. Has it never occurred to you, Bella, that as newlyweds we would have preferred to be left alone?”

“I did not think that I would ever hear such insults! You forget yourself, Alicia! Just wait till I tell Tony
...”

“I shall tell Tony myself, and what I shall tell him is that from now on I do not want to have you constantly living in our pockets. And now I must ask you to leave, for I have to get up very early. I shall give Tony your love, of course. Do you wish to pen him a few lines so I can carry your letter with me?”

Emily waited breathlessly for Miss Quentin’s frigid reply. “There is no need, for I shall be writing to my brother tomorrow. And you, you ungrateful, ignorant little snip, will find out whose advice he follows.”

Emily was amazed to hear Lady Quentin laugh. “Now, Bella, do not let us part in anger. May I give
you
some good advice for a change? Do not always be trying to come between Tony and me. I assure you you there are weapons in my arsenal that will vanquish you most thoroughly. But come! I have no desire to cause a rift in the family.”

Miss Quentin did not deign to reply, and Emily heard her calling Mr. Goodwell to fetch the carriage as she went down the stairs. As she went in to Lady Quentin, she heard her muttering, “And I hate pink bedrooms,
and
crocodile legs,
and
seashell baths! And as soon as I return, I shall do this room over myself, without any help from you,
dear
sister. Ungrateful, ignorant little snip that I am!”

4

The following morning, May 15, was pleasantly warm and sunny. The Dagglestons had brought their maid and valet, as well as an equerry to assist them on the voyage, so there were two carriages to travel to the coast. Emily was glad the weather was fine, for she was nervous about Lady Quentin’s possible reaction to the crossing. As it turned out, it was Emily who succumbed to seasickness. She had eyed the whitecaps with trepidation when they finally reached Dover and the ship that was to carry them to Ostend. Even in harbor, the boat rose and fell in a sickening manner.

“I don’t like the looks of it,” Lady Daggleston’s dresser murmured to Emily. “M’lady has such a delicate stomach.” She sniffed and added, “What a mad do, racing over to the war as if it were a rare
e
show.”

Emily nodded. At least Lady Quentin had a better purpose in traveling abroad.

As long as they remained on deck, Emily was able to control herself by breathing deeply, but when she tried to unpack, the sailors began to thump about on the deck above her head. Looking out the porthole, she saw the quay sliding by. She held on grimly as the boat rounded the jetty and set sail for Belgium, but before many minutes, she knew it was no use. Lady Quentin, who had been calmly reading a book, took one look at her white face and insisted she lie down on the bunk while she went to call Miss Berry.

And so they came to Ostend. Because of the fair wind, it had not been a long crossing, although it seemed endless to both Emily and Lady Daggleston. After a few minutes on dry
land, however, Emily felt much better and firmly put from her mind the thought that sooner or later she would have to return the same sickening way.

Even with the equerry’s help, the accommodations and the food they were served, as well as the old barge that was to carry them to Ghent, were not in the least what they expected. Emily heard Lord Daggleston taking the innkeeper to task, but the man did not seem to realize his great good fortune in having members of the English nobility grace his establishment. Most Belgians, uneasily aware that Napoleon might be in command of their country again before long, resented the presence of the English, come to fight a war on their soil.

“Never saw the like of it,” Lord Daggleston complained. “Don’t seem to understand what’s required, silly sod!
And
he expects me to speak his barbarous language, too! Sorry we came!”

“Oh, John, it does not signify,” his wife assured him. “We will soon be in Brussels. Think of the stories we will have to tell on our return. Why, you shall dine out for months on them, and everyone will clamor for your attendance so they may hear you firsthand.”

Lord Daggleston brightened considerably. Up to this point, he had not been in the least sought-after, and the dream of finding himself the center of an admiring group of peers did much to smooth the way to Brussels.

They arrived late in the evening, and as the equerry, Bertin, had ridden on before them, they found their rooms waiting in a small inn on the outskirts of the city. Mr. Bertin told Lord Daggleston that he was lucky to have found even these poor accommodations, for the capital was crowded with the army men of all the allies, as well as the lords and ladies of the nobility. “In the morning, m’lord,” he added, “I shall of course try to procure you a house in the best part of town.”

Lord Daggleston had to be content, although he pouted all through the poor meal they were served in their private parlor.

Lady Quentin remained cheerful through all adversity. “Every minute brings me closer to Tony,” she told her maid. “How could I not be happy? But these absurd Dagglestons! To be fussing about a small room, a simple meal. I do hope we shall find Tony without delay, however, for I have no idea how to go about acquiring a house. Brussels is an ant heap!”

Emily agreed. From the little she had seen in the lamplights as they drove into town, there did not appear to be room for even one more visitor. She was up very early to ask the equerry to leave a message for Captain Quentin at the Guards’ headquarters when he should locate it, telling him of his wife’s arrival and present lodging.

Unfortunately, Captain Quentin was in Antwerp, having ridden there with dispatches from his commanding officer, and so it was a long three days later before he appeared at the door of Lady Quentin’s room. They were still quartered at the poor inn, for Lord Daggleston had flatly refused to consider moving into a mean little house his equerry found.

Emily was with her mistress, hanging up the dress she had worn that afternoon, and she had no time to excuse herself before the captain was in the door in two mighty strides, lifting Lady Quentin from her chair and clear off her feet to enfold her in his arms and kiss her soundly. She smiled up at him and held his face between her two hands as she exclaimed, “My darling, how glad
I
am to see you!”

The captain kissed her again before he put her firmly back on the ground and asked, “And
I
you, Alicia. But what are you doing here, dear girl? I expected you to remain in London until my return.”

“Now, why should I want to do that when half of London is here, from what I can gather? Why should I not be here, too? After all, I have a very good reason—you!”

He smiled, but Emily saw that he was tired and disheveled, as if he had been riding hard all day.

Lady Quentin noticed it too. “Come and sit down, my dear. Nelly, get the captain wine and some bread, meat, and cheese, if you please.”

“Nelly here too?” he asked, staring with tired eyes at the maid. “And is Bella with you as well?”

“No, she is not. But I will tell you about that shortly, after you have had something to eat. You look tired. Well, I will take care of you.”

As Emily hurried to fetch the food, she saw Lady Quentin settle down happily on her husband’s lap. The captain looked bemused, for this new wife who so calmly crossed the Channel to be with him and gave such firm orders to both her maid and himself was a new come-out indeed. As Emily closed the door, she saw the captain’s red-uniformed arms reach out to pull his wife close.

The Dagglestons departed the next day. They implored Lady Quentin to come with them, but she laughed and refused.

“But I have just arrived. And Tony will take care of me. Thank you for your kindness in letting me travel with you.”

“I shall never go abroad again,” Lord Daggleston said firmly. “It is not at all what I am used to, and not one of these foreigners seems to have the least idea of my consequence. Peasants, bloody peasants!”

Lady Quentin took Emily with her and the captain to inspect the house that Lord Daggleston had scorned, and declared herself perfectly satisfied with it, much to her husband’s relief. The rooms were small and plainly furnished, and he had expected her to be as horrified as the Dagglestons. Instead, she pointed out how near it was to his headquarters, so that he would be able to come home whenever he was not on duty, and she promised to have a hot meal waiting for him whenever he wished, and for his fellow officers as well. He engaged a cook and a maid to do the scrubbing, and soon Emily felt as at home as she had in Charles Street.

It was not so different, after all. Lady Quentin had calls to make on acquaintances, receptions and picnics to attend, as well as race meets and cricket matches, and she looked forward to many gala balls. It was very difficult to remember that just over the horizon that French army might be massing, and as May drew to a close and there was no sign of Napoleon, many people began to believe that he would never dare to leave Paris to take the field against Wellington again. The captain was not one of their number, and he worked long, hard hours, although he spent all his free time with his wife. Lady Quentin glowed with happiness whenever he was able to take her for a drive in the park, or a leisurely stroll through the crowded streets, to admire the steep slanted roofs and fat chimney pots, and the flowers that bloomed in every window box.

Emily saw the Duke of Wrotherham one day when she and Lady Quentin were out shopping, but he was some distance away with a group of gentlemen, and he did not see them. She told herself she was glad. It was very strange, but she often found herself thinking of him, wondering if he had come to Brussels as he had planned, and if he were here still.

Then she would ask herself why it was so easy to conjure up his handsome, aristocratic face with its black eyes and bored sneer, and the wide shoulders of his trim, masculine figure, which was always so beautifully attired. She knew that if he were anything like his father, he was a dangerous man, and what had Margaret Nelson, lady’s maid, to do with the Duke of Wrotherham, in any case? At these thoughts she would shake her head at her folly and resolve to put him from her mind
...
until the next time he invaded it.

She also saw another duke, the Duke of Wellington, riding with some of his aides. Lady Quentin had given her the afternoon off, since she was attending a cricket match at Enghien with Lady Caroline Capel. As Emily was strolling in the park, the duke cantered by. All the English cheered him roundly, and he raised a casual hand in acknowledgment. Emily thought him most impressive in his uniform, and a very handsome man, even if his nose was a trifle too long.

Emily was standing by a fountain, watching the play of the water, when she felt someone’s eyes on her and looked up quickly. In shock, she stood frozen while an officer inspected her carefully from head to foot, and then, with a little nod, came to her side and took her arm. “I am sure I am not mistaken,” he said smoothly. “It is Miss Wyndham, is it not? Yes, you have a great look of your mother, although you have indeed grown since last I saw you.” He sneered a little as he ran his eyes up and down her figure, and Emily flushed as she pulled her arm out of his grasp. “How is dear lovely Althea, m’dear? Whose, hm, protection is she under now?”

“My mother is dead,” Emily whispered through stiff lips, wishing she had the courage to walk away, for this was indeed that selfsame Colonel Rogers of the Coldstream Guards who had offered to pay her mother for her favors ten years ago.

“How very unfortunate. But I am sure
you
were not bereft for long,” the colonel said. “Following the drum, are you? Who is the lucky man, Miss Wyndham?”

“I am not following the drum. There is no man,” Emily blurted out, her face white with shock that he should think her like her mother.

“I am afraid I do not believe you, my dear. Althea Wyndham’s daughter virtuous? Impossible! And there is no wedding ring on that little hand. Come, I insist you accompany me to the nearest cafe for some refreshment.” He took her arm in his again and squeezed her hand intimately. “You must tell me how you come to be here, and why you dress so plainly and with such a severe hairdo. Whoever your lover is, he does not do you justice, child. You should be decked out in jewels and satins, with blond curls dressed high to tempt a man to let ’em down and run his hands through them. I should treat you better, you know. Perhaps we can come to some agreement of profit to us both—as well as pleasure. My, ten years is a long time for such old acquaintances to be separated. You do remember me, do you not?”

Emily stood very still, her head high. “I remember you very well, Colonel Rogers, and I have no desire to accompany you anywhere, or make any arrangements with you, ever! Let go of my arm. You may be sure I shall make a scene if I am not immediately released.”

She stared into those cold, hooded eyes until he dropped her arm, and then she spun on her heel and hurried away, sick to be discovered. Although she took a circuitous route home and often looked over her shoulder, she did not see him following her, and it was with relief that she shut the door of the house the Quentins had hired, and leaned against it, panting.

She would not have had such a sense of deliverance if she could have seen the urchin who scurried away with her address for the tall Englishman who had promised to pay him so well for the information.

Because of the crowded conditions in the small, rented house, Emily slept in a little room next to Lady Quentin’s, and the walls were so thin that she soon had a very good understanding of what marriage was all about. No matter what she had thought after reading her mother’s letters, it was obviously pleasurable, not only for the captain, but for his wife as well. Emily could not help comparing the love the Quentins shared with the cold lechery that Colonel Rogers offered her, and she thought it very sad that she would never have that kind of happiness.

One morning in Lady Quentin’s dressing room, she heard the captain say from the bedroom, “That is enough! Why, Alicia, I do believe you have turned into a witch. Do you
know how many times I find myself thinking of you when I should be concentrating on my duty? You were not like this s in London, pet.”

“That is because my mother told me that decent married ladies do not enjoy making love. But I can go back to my former indifferent state if you wish, Tony.”

“You must know I do not. Your mother, with all due respect, is an idiot. You are breathtaking—and I adore you! But I must keep my wits about me, for, unless I miss my guess, it cannot be much longer before the battle.”

“Are you sure, Tony? Why, I have heard that the Duchess
o
f Richmond asked the duke if she might hold a ball next week on June fourteenth, and he assured her he saw no reason not to. In fact, he told her he is planning to give a ball himself on the twenty-first of June, to celebrate the second anniversary of the battle of Vittoria. Surely if Wellington does not expect trouble before then, there can be nothing to fear. Or have you heard differently, Tony?”

“No,” the captain said slowly. “But I think the duke speaks as he does to reassure the civilians, and to tell the truth, we have not the slightest idea where Napoleon’s army is. Since we are not officially at war as yet—although no one could say we were at peace—we are not allowed to send out cavalry scouts as we did in the Peninsula War to investigate French-held territory. Napoleon
may
be in Paris still—or just over the next hill. Curse all politicians! It is just a feeling I have, as do many of my fellow officers, that the time is ripe. Do you realize it is almost a hundred days since Napoleon reached Paris? He will not delay much longer, not now when he knows Wellington is here with his army. And that’s another thing. Such a rag-bag, grab-bag army it is. Germans and Dutch and Russians and Austrians and I don’t know what all, all milling about and squabbling about command. Thank heavens we have Wellington at the head.”

Emily heard him stamping his feet into his boots and then there was a discreet knock on the door. Sergeant Boothby had an urgent dispatch for the captain, and in a moment, he was gone.

Emily, of course, was interested in the captain’s assessment of the situation, but to be truthful, she was much more concerned with any possible confrontation she might have with Colonel Rogers.

For several days after their meeting in the park, she had
s
tarted up every time the knocker sounded on the front door, and she remained inside the house whenever she could. Lady Quentin had found some friends to go about with, and if Lady Caroline Capel or the Misses Ord were about, there was no need for her to take her maid. Lady Quentin did not notice that her Nelly did not take any more walks in the park, or that when she asked her to purchase some small item, Emily sent the scullery maid or Sergeant Boothby on the errand.

On the few occasions when she was forced to accompany her mistress, there had been no sign of the colonel, and so she relaxed. Perhaps he had been sent away; perhaps he had taken her at her word and intended to leave her alone.

But Colonel Rogers had no intention of leaving her alone. Instead, he had the Quentin’s house watched, and one evening learned that the captain and his wife had left in a carriage, accompanied by his sergeant. The urchin who brought the information said the lady and gent was dressed very fine, and since Colonel Rogers was well aware that Lord Uxbridge was g
i
ving an evening reception and that the duke was among the invited guests, he could be almost positive that the Quentins were even now on their way to attend, with the rest of the
haut ton
who were still in Brussels.

He made his way to their house and, marching up to the front door, gave the knocker a mighty swing. The maid answered and he asked for Miss Nelson, for he had investigated the inmates thoroughly while he waited for his opportunity. The maid nodded and led him to the door of the small salon. Emily had taken over tidying the lower rooms, for the housekeeper did as little as possible and left for her own home after dinner each evening, and the maid was slow and a little dim-witted.

“Good evening, Miss Wyndham—or should I say Miss Nelson?” Colonel Rogers asked, coming in and stripping off his gloves and shako. He turned and handed them to the maid and gestured toward the door. “Out!” he ordered, and the maid was not so slow-witted that she did not understand the brusque command, for she scurried away. The colonel closed the door.