Chapter Nineteen
They arrived at the sprawling Tobey farm at twilight, and Augusta was greatly relieved to be off the snow-covered road.
The farmer and his family could not have been more accommodating.
After a hearty meal of carrot-and-onion soup, mutton, potatoes, beets, cheese, and blackberry suet pudding, she and Duncan retired to the large guestroom.
A fire already blazed in the hearth. Duncan looked weary as he sat before it.
Augusta laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you well? Is your shoulder aching? Any headaches?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.
“A slight headache. I am rather exhausted. It has been quite the adventure.”
Augusta leaned in and kissed his cheek, then sat across from him. “I daresay it will be one we remember for years to come, Duncan.”
“Hmm?”
“Before the roof collapsed, you said you quite adored me.”
He gave her a half grin. “Did I?”
“You don’t remember?”
His expression softened. “I remember everything. Allow me to be more succinct. I am falling in love with you, Augusta. There. I will endeavor to always tell you how I feel. My life, what is left of it, is yours. Do with it as you will. You fill my senses, my heart, and my very soul.”
Augusta’s lower lip trembled at his emotional words.
“I never expected this. I never dared hope. I thought achieving friendship would be a desired outcome. But I am falling in love with you, Duncan. A deep, abiding love that will grow with each day we are together. I know it. I feel it, here.” She placed her hand over her heart.
“Ah, my love,” Duncan replied. “To see past this scarred visage and love me for who I am, damaged as I may be, is more than I could hope for.”
Augusta smiled. “You are not that flawed. I am nearly done with my courses, by the way. The night after tomorrow should be fine, if you are well enough.”
“To make love to you? I am well enough now,” Duncan said, his voice husky.
Augusta chuckled. “We are going to have such fun. I know it, in bed and out of it.”
“Bold. I do like that,” Duncan murmured.
“Good. Tonight, however, we should rest. For the journey, and for what lies ahead.”
“I concur.”
A knock sounded at the door. “Your Grace? I have Lady.”
Duncan stood and opened the door. Ellery passed the rope to him. “Lady has been bathed, fed, and taken for a walk.”
“I appreciate it. Thank you for everything.”
Ellery touched his forelock and retreated toward the staircase. Duncan closed the door and removed the rope, and Lady bounded toward Augusta, her tongue lolling. Augusta ruffled the animal’s soft fur and kissed her head, then watched as Lady settled by the fire.
“We are truly indebted to Mr. Tobey and his employees,” Augusta stated.
Duncan sat. “I will leave Ellery and Grimsley a gratuity before we leave. Mr. Tobey informed me that he will take the chickens; it is the only thank-you he wishes for. He said to assure you they will be laying hens only.” Augusta laughed.
“I told him that if he is ever near Essex and Bamford Park, he is more than welcome to visit.”
“I rather liked Mr. and Mrs. Tobey and their three children. We should invite them, perhaps this summer, to stay a few days. It wouldn’t hurt to get his opinion on agricultural matters. He has quite a large and successful operation here.”
“Very wise. They also did not scream or recoil when they saw my face. Patrick told me earlier he had prepared them by describing my war injuries in detail. Although the youngest, Anna, could not stop staring, she was not impolite. They are good people, I agree. I will give them an invitation before we depart.”
“See? We have made new friends. This adventure has had its advantages.”
“You are right again, my love.” Duncan stood and held out his hand. “Come to bed.”
After heartfelt goodbyes and promises of a summer visit, they departed for Stoneheath at dawn, with Grimsley and Ellery driving the sleighs.
After securing the coffin, they climbed into the hired carriage with Lady, and Patrick rode alongside on Midnight.
Mrs. Tobey had made them sandwiches, and they settled in for the journey.
Augusta sat next to Duncan, curled against his uninjured shoulder.
Now that Bamford Park was barely fifteen miles away, she felt a jolt of apprehension.
Duchess of a manor? Servants, everywhere she turned?
Dozens upon dozens of rooms? How would she manage?
It would be quite a change for Reese and Prisilla as well, going from an eleven-room residence to an estate house.
“Duncan, perhaps I should make the journey to collect Reese and Priscilla. To prepare them for the change our lives are about to take.”
“Do you think it is necessary? I am sending Patrick and a few men to load the wagon and carriage. In essence, there will not be room. The journey will include an overnight stay at an inn. I would have thought you had had enough of traveling.” Duncan paused. “Do you mean prepare them for me?”
“To an extent. I know you will be wearing a mask at first, but I would like to explain to Reese.”
Duncan kissed her forehead. “If you wish to go, I will not refuse. But I had hoped you would want to oversee the preparations for Reese and Miss Barry’s accommodations—the nursery, schoolroom, and bedchambers.”
“Good heavens, I hadn’t thought of that. I would like that very much.”
“Patrick can explain it as he did with the Tobeys. He had become quite skilled at it. The nursery and schoolroom haven’t been used since Jon was a small boy. But everything is in storage, awaiting your deft hand.”
Augusta nestled in closer. “Then I will stay. And you have the right of it. I am done with carriage journeys for a time.”
Duncan laughed. “Let’s try to rest.”
Augusta pointed at the window. “Look, there is less snow here. We were caught in the worst of the storm.” She sighed contentedly and closed her eyes.
In what seemed like only a few minutes, Duncan gently shook her awake. “We are here.”
Augusta sat upright, eyes blinking. “Where is the manor house?”
“It is a few miles away as yet.”
Augusta stared at the rolling hills and the dense forest of leafless trees. “This is all yours?”
“Miles and miles of it. Over that hill lie some of the tenant farms. There are thirty-five in total.”
“T-t-thirty-five? Good heavens. I never dreamed. My parents’ country home has twelve small farms, but then, my father is only a viscount. Listen to me, acting the duchess already.”
“Watch as we round this corner of the forest.”
Augusta stared out the window. Then it appeared.
A gray brick manor house sat majestically on a hill, with a large, still lake below that reflected the residence perfectly.
Formal gardens surrounded the property, though dormant because of the cold late-autumn air.
Two red deer were drinking from the lake.
The scene could have been a pastoral painting hung above a fireplace.
“Do you like it?” Duncan asked softly.
“I like it very much, indeed,” Augusta replied. “It is beautiful.”
“Wait until summer, and even early autumn. Beautiful does not even begin to describe it. I should tell you, I do not have a full staff, but we will rectify that as soon as possible.” They turned onto the tree-lined road toward the residence. “You look a little nervous.”
“I am rather, especially to meet your stepmother.”
“Laura is honest, forthright, and generously warmhearted. You are very much alike and will get on well. Of that, I have no doubt. She will adore you. How could she not?”
Augusta could see servants gathering by the front entrance. Not a full staff? There were quite a few standing about. The carriage came to a stop, and someone opened the door. Duncan stepped outside, then held his hand to assist her.
“Welcome home, Your Grace,” an older man said.
“Thank you, Turner.” Augusta took Duncan’s hand. “This is the Duchess of Allenby. Turner, our venerable butler.”
Augusta was introduced to the servants, and the names passed in a blur. Housekeeper, maids, cook, footmen. Well, she would learn the names eventually.
“I have an announcement,” Duncan said gravely. “We ran into a rather vicious snowstorm, and there was an accident. Briggs was killed.”
Shocked gasps rose from the servants as their gazes swung toward the rear of the carriage, where the coffin was secured. The cook, Mrs. Dorsett, pulled a handkerchief from her apron and dabbed her eyes. “The poor lad,” she said, sniffling.
“It was Briggs’s skill as a coachman and his abundance of courage that saved our lives,” Duncan continued.
“We would all have perished without his quick thinking. Many of you have known him since my uncle brought him to Bamford Park to work at age eleven. The only family Jonas Briggs has known is all of us here. We will see him properly buried in the family cemetery. May God speed him on his final journey.”
There was open weeping now, and Augusta felt a lump rise in her throat. How tragic. Mr. Briggs was well-loved and respected.
Duncan motioned for the butler. “Yes, Your Grace?”
“See that the coffin remains closed,” Duncan murmured. “You can imagine why.”
“I will see to it, Your Grace.”
More loudly, Duncan said, “Patrick McGloin is now the steward of the Allenby dukedom, effective immediately. Turner, between you and Mr. McGloin, see that the casket is taken to the chapel and then arrange for Reverend Joudrey to be here tomorrow afternoon to oversee the funeral and burial.”
“At once, Your Grace.”
“The duchess and I are heartily sorry for your loss—our loss, as well,” Duncan said to the staff.
“Briggs was a good man who did not deserve to have his life taken so soon. His bravery will not be forgotten.” Duncan motioned to Mr. McGloin.
“We will need gravediggers,” he said in a low voice, audible only to Augusta.
“Join us for dinner tomorrow night. You will leave for Essex the next day.”
McGloin’s eyebrows shot upward. “Dinner?”
“You are no longer a servant, Patrick. It is perfectly proper for a steward to have dinner with the family. Even if it weren’t, you are my friend. My brother. You are part of this family. Also, you will take over the gatehouse.”
Mr. McGloin chuckled. “Dinner and my own residence. Imagine.”
“You will be much more than a glorified rent collector. We will work side by side to run this estate, inside and out. I will be involved in the day-to-day management of this dukedom. I’ve put off my responsibility long enough.”
“I am pleased to hear it. Then I shall get to work at once. Turner! With me!”
As the servants dispersed, Duncan escorted her into a parlor, and a woman ran across the room and threw herself at Duncan.
“I was so worried, you are days late! Oh, heavens! You’re injured!” She stepped back.
“Laura, this is Augusta, my wife. Augusta, my stepmother, Laura.”
Augusta curtsied as did Laura. Then Laura took her hands and squeezed them warmly. “Welcome to Bamford Park.”
“Thank you,” Augusta smiled warmly.
“I take it you were caught in a storm?” Laura asked, looking back and forth between them.
“My dear, we have quite the tale to tell you,” Duncan sighed.
“Frederick, bring a tea tray if you please,” Laura said to the footman standing by the door. The young man bowed and exited. “Well, here I am still acting the duchess,” Laura laughed as they took their seats.
“Please do,” Augusta replied. “I have to get settled and learn the doings of the house and the servants’ names. I do not remember everyone; the introductions were over before they began.”
“Then I shall endeavor to assist in any way I can,” Laura said. “I remember when I first came here. It was quite overwhelming. Honestly, it still is at times. I’ve already instructed Mrs. Reynolds—our housekeeper—to prepare the dower house for me.”
“Do you want to move there?” Duncan asked. “Because I would prefer you keep your suite of rooms here in the main house. Augusta will need your assistance for a while. Also, her son and companion will be here in a matter of days.”
“You have a son? How wonderful!” Laura cried happily.
“Oh, do stay,” Augusta said. And she meant it. Already, she liked Laura. “I would value your help.” She turned to Duncan. “Is the dower house larger than the gatehouse?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then allow Mr. McGloin to live in the larger residence. When you hire a head gamekeeper, he can have the gatehouse.”
Duncan smiled, his look admiring. “Already thinking as a duchess. I will see it done.”
“McGloin?” Laura asked.
“I made him steward of the dukedom,” Duncan replied.
“Well done, and well deserved. I agree with Augusta. Give him the dower house. Mr. McGloin may marry someday. He should live nearer the manor, not out in the woods. Ah, here’s the tea. Thank you, Frederick. We’ll ring if we need anything else. Will you pour, my dear?”
Augusta sat forward. It had been a long time since she presided over a tea tray.
“Now we are alone, tell me of your perilous journey,” Laura said as Augusta passed her a cup and saucer.
“Where to begin?” Duncan sighed. “We left the Jemison Inn a little after the noon clock.”
As Duncan told the tale, Augusta couldn’t believe they had come through such a perilous episode relatively unscathed.
But the time they spent huddled together in the ramshackle cabin had forged a strong bond between them.
Unbreakable. Unshakeable. Created in mutual respect, friendship, and now a growing love.
A solid foundation on which to build a new, contented life.
It was more than Augusta could have ever hoped for.