Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
She attempted to calm herself as increasingly terrible scenarios played through her mind.
When the duke stood and looked down at her impatiently, her panic intensified.
This was going to be her life now. She would forever be trapped under this cruel man’s thumb.
If she had a boy, he would take the child and mold it into yet another selfish, entitled aristocrat.
And if she had a girl…well, he had promised retribution.
His threat that her life depended on the sex of the babe was still fresh in her mind.
“Violet, let’s go,” the duke bit out.
“I think I shall stay and spend some time in peaceful prayer,” she said.
“What an admirable choice, young lady.” The clergyman stopped at the end of their pew. “Good morning, Your Grace. Lady Sommerset. We are pleased at your return to Eastwell Park.”
“Good morning, Mr. Haddonfield,” the duke replied stiffly, then glared down at her. “Violet, I am ready to leave and—”
“Oh, do let her stay,” Mr. Haddonfield interrupted. “Time spent in prayer is always a noble pursuit. I will drive her back to the manse myself.”
“Very well,” the duke huffed. “Good day.”
The clergyman laid a hand on her shoulder. “Take your time, dear lady. Come find me outside when you are finished. I am usually puttering around the garden.”
Violet nodded. “Thank you.”
She let out a long breath at having a reprieve from the duke’s company.
She kept her head bent and her eyes closed as the other parishioners filed out of the church.
She certainly didn’t want to talk with nosy neighbors.
She must pull herself together. There was no reason to doubt that Rhys would come for her.
For goodness’ sake, it had only been three days!
But what was delaying him? Well, if he didn’t come within the week, she would have to make a plan for her escape.
No longer would she be a victim of her circumstances.
If this Lady Lilly had escaped, then so could she.
The old woman’s confusion from yesterday still niggled at her. Who was Lady Lilly?
The church grew quiet as it emptied. Violet rose and wandered down the aisle to stare up at the large stained glass window above the altar.
Colorful glass was intricately mixed with beveled clear glass pieces, which bent the light and made the sunshine sparkle.
She let the warmth and colors soothe her.
How many years had the joyful scene depicting a choir of angels singing to the heavens lifted the spirits of parishioners in this church?
“It is a beautiful work of art, is it not?” Mr. Haddonfield came to stand next to her.
“Indeed, it is.”
“It was installed by my predecessor, sixty-some odd years ago.”
Violet turned to him. “Mr. Haddonfield, you have been the rector here for a long time, yes?”
“Yes, I baptized your late husband. Poor boy.”
Violet nodded solemnly. “Mr. Haddonfield, do you know if the duke was married before Stuart’s mother?”
“I don’t know. That would have been before my time here. But if you are curious about family history, you can find the records of births, deaths, and marriages in the register in that alcove over there. We have a long history in this village with the great dukes of Lavensham.”
Violet nodded but didn’t want to seem too eager. She placed her hand on her belly. “I was curious about some of the names that are prominent in the family line. Perhaps I will go take a look. Don’t let me keep you from your gardening.”
“As you wish, Lady Sommerset.” He bowed and walked back down the aisle and out the front door.
Violet hurried over to the alcove he had pointed to.
A large leatherbound register had the place of honor on top of a wooden stand.
She flipped open the book to the middle only to find the dates to be in the seventeen hundreds.
She kept turning pages until she found the entry of Stuart’s birth, July 14, 1805.
Violet turned the page backward, looking down the previous page, and found the record of the duke’s marriage to Lady Margaret Downing.
Further down the page was the birth record of Stuart’s cousin, Abigail.
Violet licked the tip of her finger and turned back yet another page.
Her eyes widened. September 27, 1800, James Stuart Walter Sommerset, Duke of Lavensham, joined in marriage with Lillian Kelley.
There she was, Lady Lillian Kelley. Wait…
Lillian Kelley? Wasn’t that the name from the investigative firm’s letters from the duke’s office?
Yes, she remembered how she’d thought it was such a beautiful name.
The duke had searched for his missing bride.
When had she left? Why had she fled? There had to be evidence of her somewhere in that house.
Violet ran her finger over the woman’s name.
What had sent her fleeing from the ducal household when she was pregnant with his child?
Violet’s fingernail caught on the edge of the page.
Curious, she licked her fingertip again, and when she went to turn the page, she discovered two pages had stuck together.
The page after the marriage record of the duke and Lillian but before the marriage record of the duke and Margaret was a record of Lillian Kelley’s death.
According to the entry, she died in childbirth on June 3, 1801.
How odd. The letters she had found in the duke’s desk had been old but dated not more than fifteen years ago.
Why would the duke be searching for a woman who was dead?
He would have married and sired Stuart by then.
Of course, if he wanted to remarry, Lillian would have had to be dead.
But what if she hadn’t been? Would he have had her declared dead in order to free himself to marry again?
Good Lord. No, she was letting her imagination run away from her. Wasn’t she? Violet shut the book with a snap. She needed to talk with Mrs. Wells’s mother. She simply had to know the fate of Lady Lilly.