Chapter Thirty-One
When Violet arrived back at the manse from church, she immediately went to find Mrs. Wells. She was directed by a maid to the woman’s office in the bowels of the house. Violet knocked politely on the door. Mrs. Wells’s head popped up from her writing. “Lady Sommerset, what can I help you with?”
“I was hoping it would be all right to speak with your mother again. I find myself short of company, and she seemed eager to visit.”
“Certainly, my lady. My mother does enjoy chatting with whoever crosses her path.” She chuckled. “Just remember, her stories are often just pure fiction. The clarity of her thoughts comes and goes these days.”
Violet nodded.
“I believe she is outside in the kitchen garden. She enjoys tending to the plants.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Wells.”
Violet once again surprised the kitchen staff by walking through on her way to the back garden. She spotted the older lady across the rows of peas. She stepped carefully over young spring plants as she headed over to greet her. “Good morning, ma’am.”
The woman turned and smiled at her. “Good morning, Lady Sommerset. What brings you out to my garden?”
“I hoped to speak with you. Can we have a visit?”
“Certainly. Shall we sit? There is a lovely bench over yonder. I spend many an early morning sitting there, enjoying the peace of the garden. And keeping an eye out for rabbits.”
Violet chuckled. “That sounds lovely.” She weaved an arm through the older woman’s, and they slowly walked over to the bench that lay at the north end of the garden.
Once they settled, Violet turned to ask her a question.
“Yesterday you were telling me a little bit about Lady Lilly, and I wondered if you would tell me more of her story?”
“Oh yes, Lady Lilly. She was a lovely girl. And beautiful to boot. Blonde hair, like you, which is why I was so confused yesterday.” She frowned.
“But you have dark eyes, and Lady Lilly had blue eyes, clear as a summer sky. She never put on airs with the staff. She was just bright and friendly. You see, she had been an actress in London. Everyone was quite surprised when the duke married her, but it was obvious that he adored her. She balanced his dark side, I think.” Her eyes grew unfocused.
“But their happiness didn’t last. She discovered too late that he could be controlling and cruel.
We tried to protect her as best as we could. ”
Violet’s heart squeezed. The story was so familiar to hers. Her staff had done the same, stepping in to distract Stuart when his temper lashed out. “What happened? You said she fled?”
The older woman nodded, her gaze unfocused as though her thoughts were back in time. “Lady Lilly asked me for help. She needed to get away. He had beaten her badly, and she feared for the babe in her belly.”
“Where did she go?” Violet asked.
“My husband took her to Ashford in the middle of the night. From there, she planned to take the first coach. Where she was going, she wouldn’t tell us. She said it was best if we didn’t know. She had money and all her jewelry sewn into her underclothes. We never saw her again.”
Violet let out a long breath. What a tale. “Her death is recorded in the church register.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, the duke searched for her for months. He came back in early summer and said he’d found her, but she had died in childbirth. The babe too.” She twisted to face Violet. “Would you like to see what she looked like?”
“Yes, very much. Mrs.—oh dear, I am embarrassed to admit I do not know your name.”
“It’s all right, dear. It’s Mrs. Seaton.”
Violet’s breath caught. Seaton?
“Follow me.” Mrs. Seaton led her back into the house and through to the east wing, which was the oldest part of the manse.
“The tower was traditionally the domain of the ducal suites. But Lady Margaret did not care for the drafts and had rooms in the west wing renovated to suit her and the duke.” They climbed a stone staircase to the second floor.
Mrs. Seaton opened a door to the right. “This was her chamber. He has kept it the same all these years.”
They walked inside, and Violet gasped. The room was feminine and pretty, with everything decorated in shades of blue, from the rich dark blue of the velvet drapes to the sky blue of the faded canopy.
All she could think about was Rhys telling her his mother’s favorite color was blue. Violet stepped farther inside.
On the right side of the room, on the marble mantel of a cold fireplace, a portrait in a gilt frame held the place of honor. Drawn to it, she moved across the room to stand in front of the small oil painting of a beautiful blonde woman who gazed out at the room with clear blue eyes.
Rhys looked exactly like his mother.
“That is Lady Lilly. Isn’t she beautiful?”
“Yes, very much so.” Dear God. Lady Lilly had fled her husband and ended up raising her son in a brothel. Had she regretted her decision? Had she found the safety she was seeking? Violet turned from the portrait.
On the opposite side of the room, a delicate rolltop desk sat against the wall.
Above it hung several framed articles and drawings.
She peered more closely at one; it was a flyer advertising a performance.
The Fortune’s Herald Theatre presents Lillian Kelley, London’s renowned soprano.
“Come listen to the angelic melodies of Fortune’s very own Blue Angel!
” Underneath the headline was a beautifully drawn caricature of a lady in a frothy costume, sitting on an oversized swing on a grand stage.
Large gossamer wings were drawn rising up from behind her.
At the bottom of the flyer were the performance dates, all in March of 1798.
Violet reached out a finger and traced over the picture.
How sad. The lady obviously held so much promise.
Rhys had told her that his mother had been the mistress of the old Duke of Hartwick and that he was their child.
Who knows why Lady Lilly had told her son the lie?
Perhaps she hoped to hide his true parentage to keep them hidden from Lavensham.
And she had taken the name of the couple that had helped her escape in a further effort to hide who she was.
How had she eluded the duke when he had clearly been searching for her?
Good Lord. The ramifications of the shocking revelation that Rhys’s mother was the Duke of Lavensham’s first wife hit her, and she sucked in sharp breath. As the oldest living son, Rhys was the true heir to the Duke of Lavensham.
“What are you doing in here?” the duke’s gruff voice rang out across the room.
Both ladies swung around to find the duke, face full of fury, looming in the doorway.
Violet opened her mouth but could not think of anything to say.
Luckily, Mrs. Seaton seemed nonplussed. “Your Grace, I was just showing your daughter-in-law the portrait of Lady Lilly. She looks so similar to her that yesterday I mistook her for the ghost of your first wife.”
The duke scowled. “This room is off-limits. A fact you are well aware of, Mrs. Seaton.”
Mrs. Seaton curtsied deeply. “So sorry, Your Grace.” She scooted past him, head down, and disappeared down the hallway.
“What are you doing in here, Violet?” the duke demanded.
She placed her hands on her belly and lifted her chin to look up at him. “Realizing that my baby will never be the next Duke of Lavensham.”
“What are you talking about?”
“This babe cannot be your heir when your true heir lives. Lady Lilly had a son. He is the man you saw me with on the street.”
“The criminal who worked for Fleming? Impossible!”
“His mother told him that his father was the Duke of Hartwick. But she was lying, wasn’t she? She was so desperate to hide the truth because she was hiding from you.”
The duke shook his head. “No, she died. I was told she died in childbirth.”
“Then why were you still looking for her, even after you had her declared dead and you were married to another?”
“I needed to move on. I needed an heir.” He walked over to stare at the portrait of Lillian Kelley.
“But I never could give up the idea that she was out there somewhere. She left me, but she was still mine.” He turned back to Violet.
“I don’t believe you. You are simply trying to torture me.
” His face mottled red. “Get out! Get out of her room.”
The violence in his voice had Violet speeding out the door and down the stairs as fast as her feet would carry her.
She missed a step and barely grabbed hold of the railing with both hands before she fell.
Sucking in a deep breath around the panic that raced through her veins, she continued down more carefully.
At the bottom, she picked up her pace again and raced down the corridor to the main hall and up the main stairs.
Once she was safe in her suite, she leaned against the door and tried to calm her breathing.
Her dash to get away from the duke was so eerily similar to her recurring dream that she had half expected his hand to reach out like a specter and take her by the throat.
She closed her eyes. Blast it, she had to pee.
She crossed to the bathing room and closed the door.
When she returned ten minutes later after relieving her bladder and splashing some cool water on her face, she felt much improved.
She walked to the window to watch the sun as it began to sink toward the horizon.
Rhys, where are you? I need you more than ever.
A light knock came at the door. “My lady, it’s Ginny.”
“Come in,” she called out.
Ginny entered and carefully closed the door behind her. “There sure is a lot of yelling coming from down on the main level. The duke is in a real temper. I came to warn you to stay in your room this evening.”
“Thank you, Ginny.” Violet sighed. “I have a fair sense of what has upset him. Namely, me. I will plan to stay out of his way.”
An hour later, Mrs. Wells appeared at her door with a maid who carried a covered tray.
“Good evening, Lady Sommerset. I have been instructed to bring your dinner up. And the duke has set new rules for your visit. You are not to leave the grounds of the manse. There will be a man stationed outside your room during the day, waiting to escort you to wherever you might want to go within the manse or immediate park. And at night, you will be locked into your suite.”
“Pardon me? Did you say I would be locked in at night?”
Mrs. Wells would not meet her eyes. Instead, she stared down at her hands, where she gripped her chatelaine. “Sorry, my lady. But that is what’s been decreed by His Grace.” She motioned for the maid to set down the tray at the table. Then the girl hurried back to exit the room with Mrs. Wells.
“Mrs. Wells!” Violet called out.
But the door shut, and she heard the scrape of the key in the lock. She stood rooted to the spot in shock. Ginny came out from the dressing room with a gown across her arms. “What is happening?”
“Mrs. Wells just locked us in for the night on orders from the duke.”
“What? What about dinner? Are they planning to starve you and the babe?”
Violet gestured at the tray over on the table. “Let’s hope they thought to bring enough for two.”