Daisy and the Duke by Elizabeth Cole

Chapter 8

Remembering what Tristan had toldher about Jack Kemble’s illness, Daisy slipped out of the house very early the next morning to go visit Tabitha in her cottage. The old woman couldn’t have known she was coming, yet she was there in the doorway, smiling at Daisy when she walked up.

“Hurry on in, girl. Got the kettle on and some lovely mint tea in the pot for you.”

Daisy entered the dark cottage, not questioning Tabitha’s foreknowledge, only grateful for the warm beverage offered to her on such a frosty morning. She blew over the surface of the tea, saying, “Winter’s on its way.”

“Aye, cold dark times coming,” Tabitha agreed, scowling. “Going to be rough for many.”

“Are you worried about the weather?” Daisy asked. “You can always move to the Grange for the season, you know.”

“The weather? Bah! That’s no concern.” Tabitha bustled around the cottage kitchen, putting various dishes in their place. “Now tell me what’s on your mind, Daisy girl.”

“Well, if you remember that February a few years ago, when I came down with that terrible cough? You had some medicines that helped quite a lot.”

“Medicine is too fancy for what I make,” Tabitha objected. “But I do remember the simples I brewed for you and the others that winter. Why? Someone got that sickness so early in the autumn?”

“Not exactly. The duke’s friend had been suffering from an illness for a few months, and he’s got a cough that seems similar. Those drops and the syrup you made would help him.”

“Surely the duke has a high and mighty doctor at his call.”

“That he does. It’s Dr. Stelton from the village, who is very good. But every time I hear Mr. Kemble coughing, it sounds as if he’s dying!” Daisy hoped that was not the case, since Mr. Kemble was such a nice man.

“I happen to have a bottle of syrup and a batch of the drops on hand,” Tabitha announced, a bit smugly.

Daisy had little doubt of it, for Tabitha always planned ahead, and she’d be ready for the very first of the seasonal maladies that plagued the locals in the colder months. “Wonderful! May I take some today? Tell me what you’d like in return and I’ll see that it’s sent over from the Grange.”

“Well, a bottle of wine would be a treat, for that’s a thing I can’t make on my own. But as for payment, Miss Daisy, what I want from you is your word.”

“My word?” she echoed, puzzled by the cryptic request.

“Yes,” the old woman replied, pulling a small dark green bottle out of a cupboard. “I’ll give you the simples to take to this friend of the duke. But in return, you must promise me that when you flee from the Grange, you’ll come here first.”

“Flee the Grange?” Daisy asked, incredulous at the very idea. “Tabitha, what are you talking about? The Grange is my home! I’ll never leave it.”

Tabitha held the bottle close to her chest. “Promise me.”

“Very well, I promise,” Daisy said, mostly to appease the older woman. Perhaps it wasn’t so good for her to be living all alone in the woods. She was growing eccentric. Well, more eccentric.

“Promise made is a payment paid!” Tabitha said. She held out the bottle and a small paper sack that contained the sweet throat drops that tasted of mint and honey. “See to it that the poor man gets these. By my word, he’ll feel better within hours.”

“I certainly hope so.” Daisy tucked the medicines away in her bag. She finished her tea, telling Tabitha of the ordinary goings-on of the village and the Grange, scrupulously avoiding mention of the duke, since the very thought of him made her heart flutter. Riding with him had been a pleasure, and with Bella and Mr. Kemble close by, it was entirely proper and even felt…familial, which was a novelty for Daisy.

Then she hurried back to the Grange, knowing that she was late for the morning’s chores. But when she returned, the baroness was already awake, looking alert as a hawk in a very fashionable midnight-blue dressing gown.

“Where have you been, Daisy?” Lady Rutherford asked, as she entered the front foyer of the house.

“Just visiting Tabitha,” Daisy explained, putting her bag on the table as she took off her bonnet. “I wanted to get some syrup for Mr. Kemble to help with his cough.”

Lady Rutherford picked up the green bottle, curious. “Is that what this stuff is?”

“Yes, and the paper sack holds candied drops to soothe the throat.”

“Hmmm.” The baroness put the bottle back. “Interesting. But don’t you have some tasks to attend to, Daisy?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Daisy hurried to the kitchen, thinking of the breakfast to prepare.

Later, when she remembered the medicine, she couldn’t seem to find it, and she nearly tore the house apart in her search. How very vexing, to lose something you intended to give to another person!

“It’ll turn up at some point,” she told herself. “Probably someone just misplaced them.”

The next day, Bella and Daisy were invited for a picnic at Lyondale. The duke sent one of his own carriages to pick them up at Rutherford Grange. Daisy was harried, for once again she’d been looking all over the house for the medicines she got from Tabitha, intending to offer them to Kemble on arrival.

“I am so chicken-brained lately,” she huffed out, looking into a kitchen cabinet for the third time. “I swore I put them near the door so as not to forget them, and now I’ve forgot where I put them!”

“Daisy, hurry!” Bella urged, looking nervously at the carriage. “It would be very rude to keep the gentlemen waiting.”

Daisy resolved to do a more thorough search later, and until she found the items, she wouldn’t mention anything to Kemble, so he didn’t get his hopes up.

Traveling toward Lyondale, Daisy and Bella sat on the forward-facing seat, each looking surreptitiously around the opulent compartment. Bella hadn’t seen it before at all. Daisy had, since the duke had taken her home that night after dinner…but that had been in the dark, and also with the distraction of Tristan kissing her so sensuously that Daisy had nearly melted, and therefore she’d been quite unable to appreciate the conveyance itself.

The closed coach featured paneling between the sparkling glass of the windows. The seats were padded in heavy brocade, and the whole coach rode smoothly, despite the pitted road. Daisy tried to guess at the cost of the vehicle, and gave up—the amount was probably the equivalent of several tenant families’ annual incomes.

Bella looked over the coach’s interior with curiosity in her eyes. “After this, our own carriage will seem even shabbier.” It was a mere statement of fact, and Daisy had to agree.

“Well, it’s only needed to go to town and for church on Sundays,” she said. “Surely if your mother wanted a new one, she’d purchase it.”

“I’ve asked,” Bella said. “I never quite understood why Mama spends so much on some things, but not enough on others. She says that my wardrobe is the most important thing…until I’m married. But I think that she ought to put more thought into the appearance of Rutherford Grange. My suitors do call on me there, after all. A house is like a wardrobe,” she concluded. “Where a lady lives matters just as much as how she looks.”

Daisy felt the words with a sting. She had slept in the alcove of the kitchen last night since she’d dozed off while mending clothes, and woken up feeling sore and cramped, not to mention covered in the soot of the fireplace. Where a lady lived did matter…and Daisy was one step away from living in the stables.

But Bella wouldn’t have known that, and her words were probably not intended to censure Daisy. So she tried to ignore her hurt and asked, “Have you told your mother that? She does so very much want you to marry well.”

“That’s true, but she seems to think that I will soon have a proposal in hand.”

Bella didn’t add the rest of the statement, because it was obvious. The expected proposal was going to come from the duke, who, after all, just invited Bella to a picnic with Daisy in tow to chaperone her.

“Have you…have you cause to believe a proposal is imminent?” Daisy nearly squeaked out.

“I should not presume to know any gentleman’s intentions,” Bella said primly. “Though the duke certainly has been attentive since he came to the area.”

Daisy bit her lip, remembering that Tristan had been very attentive to her indeed. But only when the two found themselves alone.

Then Bella said, looking out the window, “You know, Mr. Kemble has never once told me that I am pretty.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow, though Bella wouldn’t see it. Was the girl so vain that she cataloged each time a man complimented her?

When the women arrived at the steps of Lyondale, both Lord Lyon and Mr. Kemble were ready to greet them at the front of the great house.

“We’re ready,” said Kemble. He stood next to what looked like a very large hamper of food.

“Are you expecting many other guests?” Daisy asked on seeing it.

Mr. Kemble smiled back. “No, just you two. But the kitchen staff seems to think we’re planning to picnic in Wales. We have several meals’ worth.”

Two footmen did the work of carrying the hamper down to the location by the pond, which had been chosen for its view across the water and to the fields beyond. Trees grew at the far end of the pond, their leaves shining gold as they drifted away in the breeze.

When they sat, Bella’s gown pooled around her like a perfect white cloud. Daisy felt as if she was getting tangled in her dark green wool. Still, the mood was cheerful and quite casual compared to the previous dinner party. The absence of Lady Rutherford no doubt helped this effect.

To Daisy’s surprise, the picnic was actually a very pleasant affair. Bella was skilled at guiding a conversation, hitting all the social niceties while steering away from difficult topics. It also helped that Tristan and Jack were good friends, and had many stories to tell. Bella seemed fascinated by Tristan’s younger life. In particular, she listened raptly to stories of the rougher years of his childhood, before his destiny as a duke was revealed.

Daisy liked hearing his stories too, though she could sense the elisions in his tale that Bella clearly missed, the way he didn’t mention missed meals or the prospect of not knowing if the next quarter’s rent could be paid. It was odd how her and Tristan’s lives had flipped. Daisy grew up in comfort and luxury, expecting to become a baroness in her own right. And now she lived a life closer to a servant than an heiress. Tristan’s life was just the opposite, growing up in modest surroundings, unaware of his bloodline until the truth was given to him so abruptly. And now he lived like a prince. She hoped he was happy with the change. Sometimes she got the impression that he would rather run away from it all.

After the group tested the desserts (eclairs, cream puffs, a lemon cake…the array of choices went on and on), Tristan asked Daisy about how she’d chosen a particular breed of sheep, remembering the last time when she mentioned it in passing.

Jack sighed. “If you two are going to drone on about livestock, please take a walk around the pond while you do.”

“I certainly could not contribute on that topic,” Bella said. “It is quite beyond me. But do feel free to stretch your legs. I will see that Mr. Kemble is not abandoned.”

So Daisy and Tristan walked at a sedate pace, and since they were in view of their picnic companions or the great house, the stroll was quite safe. They followed a path near the water, and Daisy was pleased to have Tristan to herself. After a few moments of conversation that ranged from sheep to corn laws, she said, “Your grace, I was actually wondering…”

“Yes?”

“Oh, never mind.”

“Tell me.”

“I don’t wish to summon any painful memories,” she said.

“Curious about what happened to me? During the war, I mean.”

“Oh, no. Mr. Kemble told me what happened.”

“He only knows what I told him,” Tristan said cryptically.

“What’s the truth?” Daisy asked.

He flexed his injured hand subconsciously. “The truth will likely disappoint you.”

“Why is that?”

“Because the truth is I don’t know what happened.” Tristan took a deep breath. “I saw something—a cannonball, a shell, I didn’t know—and I just reacted. I shoved down whoever it was standing next to me. And I shouted. Together, it gave enough warning to the others around us to scatter. The shell hit right where we’d been grouped together. But I was knocked unconscious, so I don’t know details. When I woke up, my head was ringing so badly, I felt like I’d been packed inside a cathedral bell. But the man I shoved was a general, and he remembered everything, or least he told the story like he did.” He sighed. “It wasn’t any great act of bravery on my part. Just luck.”

Daisy said nothing for a moment. Her mind was on the possibility of Tristan’s luck going the other way. The idea of his dying made her shudder.

“Not a pleasant story,” he said apologetically, mistaking her reaction.

“I liked the ending,” she said. “The part where you lived.”

His mouth twitched. “Is that so?”

As they completed their circle of the pond, they made the final turn in the path, and Daisy could again see Mr. Kemble and Bella, sitting on the blanket. She was listening to some story he was telling, and then let out a silvery peal of laughter as she heard the final line.

“Jack is looking so much better,” Tristan said then. “I think Miss Bella’s presence must have a positive effect.”

Daisy glanced at him, catching an odd light in his eyes. A little part of her despaired again. Despite the way he’d kissed her before, despite the connection she felt to him today…all it took was the appearance of the beautiful Bella Merriot to turn his attention away from Daisy. She remembered her stepmother’s plan—for Bella to dote on Mr. Kemble as a way to gain the esteem of the duke. It seemed the plan was working perfectly.

Since Tristan was expecting her to comment on Bella’s effect, Daisy began to reply, but was stopped short by a loud slamming sound echoing over the water of the pond.

“Oh!” she cried, instinctively putting her hands to her ears.

Alarmed, Daisy turned toward the great house and saw two workers standing by a pile of boards in the lawn, which had fallen from the height of the roof. Thank goodness everyone else was well away from the area.

“What happened?” she called. “Is anyone hurt?”

“No, miss!” one called back. “The rope broke and the boards fell. That’s all.”

“Please be more careful! That could have hurt someone!” she reprimanded them. She turned back to Tristan, who had gone completely still. He’d shrank from the sound, squeezing his eyes shut. A look of pain crossed his face. He was standing as if frozen in place, and something in his breathing suggested that he was far more affected by the clatter than she had been.

He shook his head as if to clear it. “What happened?” he whispered.

She hated to see him distressed. Hoping to restore his mood, she said, “Don’t worry. No one was hurt. The sound was just the boards falling from where your men are repairing that roof.”

“That sound…” he said, still looking haunted. “It’s too close…”

“Your grace? Sir?” Daisy asked. She paused and tried again. “You hate the noise, don’t you? You hate anything loud.”

He refused to look at her. “You should go, Daisy. Take your sister and get away from here.”

“But you just said that Bella was good for—”

“I said go!” he roared. “Why are you still here? Get the hell away from me!”