Regency Romances Page 26

  Sofia’s stomach constricted. She heard the stranger going to the left side of the stagecoach, shushing the spooked horses as he did.

  “Mr. Arthur Kershaw,” the scary man said, looking through the stagecoach door.

  It was rude that he didn’t use the title of Sir. Sofia was too terrified to care much, however. She crept away from her father, towards the other stagecoach door. Her heart pounded.

  “Get out here,” the man shouted. Sofia’s father looked at her desperately.

  “Sofia, make good choices,” Sofia’s father whispered. He took a deep breath and looked out the stagecoach door.

  “Get out here!” the man shouted. His voice was rough and raspy. He looked young. Sofia could see a young face and a dirty collar. A common man.

  “Mr. Kershaw, you have until the count of ten!” the man shouted.

  Sofia watched her father open the stagecoach door. After he did, she did the same. The stagecoach didn’t creak. She crept out of the door, standing on the other side of the stagecoach, hiding. She had no idea what was going on and her heart was pounding. She was ready to run. She had to know what was going on first.

  “Mr. Kershaw, you owe £500,” the scary man said. “You have five minutes to hand it over.”

  Sofia’s heart nearly burst. What was her father into? Why had he done this? She had her jewels in her bag. Should she hand them over? Sofia struggled to think with her heart bursting.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Sofia’s father sounded defiant. But his voice faltered at the end. He was always so strong. He wasn’t strong now.

  “You’re making a big mistake,” the man said. Sofia was scared. Her father should figure this out. She could see the stagecoach driver slumped over. There was a puddle of something dark, dripping from his head. Sofia felt like she was in a nightmare. But she couldn’t wake up.

  “My name is Sir. Arthur Kershaw,” her father said. “You are the one making a mistake, you will pay for this whole ordeal. You will–“

  Another bang pierced the air. Sofia ran.

  She had to empty her mind. She struggled harder. She finally freed her leg. Scrambling to her feet she started sprinting again. The brief respite from running had caused all her muscles to ache. Her adrenaline and pounding heart kept her going. She thought she could see the edge of the forest. She didn’t want to think about would happen if the man caught up with her. She finally reached the periphery without tripping over again. The moon lit up the surrounding countryside. She saw a grand house a while away. There was no tree coverage from here to there, just paddocks of grass. Once she decided to run, she’d be a sitting duck. Well, a running duck. She had worn her darkest dress, however. She didn’t want to wait around for the man to catch up, so she took the plunge.

  Sofia let go of her dress, putting her arms behind her head as she ran. Thankfully the forest ended on the edge of a hill, giving her speed as she ran. Reaching the bottom, she had to wade through a creek. Thankfully on the other side of the creek there was a line of fir trees. She pushed through them, closing her eyes as the pines scratched her face. There was a long way left to run, she didn’t look behind herself as she did.

  She made it to the back of the building, knocking impatiently on the servant’s door. She had no idea what she’d do if they didn’t let her in. A middle-aged housekeeper answered the door. It was a credit to her professionalism that she made no face as she looked Sofia up and down.

  “I’m terribly sorry, I know it is terribly late, and this is entirely unorthodox, but I was wondering if I might seek shelter here for the night.” The words ran out of Sofia’s mouth in a rush. She felt entirely uncomfortable out here in the open, conscious that the man might be looking for her still. The housekeeper’s eye’s softened.

  “Come in Miss,” the housekeeper said, standing back with the door open.

  Sofia gratefully crossed the threshold. She felt a lot better once she was inside. The housekeeper closed the door after Sofia and led the way.

  “This property is owned by His Grace the Duke of Devonshire,” the housekeeper said, “I will ask him if you may stay the night.”

  Sofia was just happy to be inside. They were in Derbyshire, she realized, suddenly. At least she had an idea of where she was in Britain. As they entered the servant’s kitchen Sofia noticed that there was a maid and a young butler playing cards.

  “Mary, can you put the kettle on and make a cup of tea for our guest?”

  The young maid jumped up and immediately ran to fulfill the housekeeper’s request. Sofia figured the woman who had answered the door was the head maid. She pulled a chair out and motioned for Sofia to sit down. Sofia did, gratefully, putting her head in her hands.

  That day she had woken up in her little house in Britain. Her father was a lovely man. Now he was dead. Sofia was scared, she had no idea what she was to do. She had few relatives. She had no one to trust. Perhaps her mother’s sister would take her in. Sofia had no idea. She was a harsh, spiteful woman. It was better than living on the streets, however. She drank her cup of tea. She put in ample cream and sugar. She tried to make herself think, but she was so fuzzy. Perhaps the sugar will wake her up.

  She noticed the young butler and the maid stand up. Florence looked up. The middle-aged housekeeper came in, leading a tall man. He wore dark snug pantaloons that matched his black tailcoat. He had dark short mutton chops and curly hair, with his dark eyes.

  “Hello,” said the tall man with a deep voice, “my name is Alexander Bannerman and I am the Duke of Devonshire.” His eyes pierced Sofia’s, she felt vulnerable.

  “Now, Miss, please tell me what happened.”

  Chapter 2

  The Duke’s Intrigue

  The Duke of Devonshire lounged in the study of his country manor. He had spent the morning hunting, managing to shoot two rabbits and a deer. The rabbits were cooked especially well by his staff. He was bored, however. He had inherited his position five years ago. His father had died, rather unfortunately, quite early. Being the duke, he had sat through meetings today about his land. His father had worked hard to impress upon Devonshire the importance of his work. Devon had found the position interesting and purposeful at the beginning, but now he was beginning to find the work tedious.

  Duke Devonshire had many suitors due to his position. He was a good match for any woman in Britain. His mother had introduced him to second cousins, the daughters of other dukes, even a Russian princess. None of these women had succeeded in impressing the duke, however. The princess was hard to understand. Lady Alice was spiteful, Lady Martha was jealous. His mother’s favorite, Lady Emma, was boring. She spent her time talking negatively of her family and fussing over her appearance. It was all rather tiresome.

  He had been reading the paper that night, looking for news of the War of 1812. It was in full swing. The events in France were frustrating, with Napoleon invading Russia and the world in economic turmoil. Devonshire had wanted to contribute towards the war efforts. His advisors had encouraged charity balls and other donation events. Those events bored him, but he knew that they were important to raise funds for the British government. He was only slightly annoyed at his reading being disrupted by his head housekeeper.

  “I’m sorry your Grace,” the head maid said, curtsying.

  “Whatever is the matter?” Alexander asked. He was usually left quite alone in the evenings, only attended by butler undressing him and serving him his evening brandy. He was surprised by what the head maid would want.

  “There’s a young, high born girl,” the maid started, “she’s disheveled and covered in pine needles, it seems something is terribly wrong.”

  The duke’s mind was racing. This was quite a surprise. It was not entirely unwelcome.

  “Take me to her,” The duke announced, standing up and following his maid. He spent little time in the servant’s quarters and once again he was surprised by how well kept it was. Despite the kitchen being busy when there were events and dinn
ers, and still there being food cooked every day it remained spotlessly scrubbed. The head maid was right. Indeed, there was a young girl sitting at the servants table. She had pine needles in her red hair, her dress was dirty at the bottom, she was missing an earring. The duke tried to get information out of her, but she spoke little. It seemed she was scared. The duke decided to question her more the following morning.

  “Set up a room for our guest,” The duke said. His mother and brother were currently occupying the countryside manor, but there were many rooms left. The head maid nodded in response. It wouldn’t take much effort to shelter the young girl. The duke noticed the girl was quite beautiful, despite her unkempt appearance. He wondered whatever could have happened for her to be so scared.

  “Have Mary attend to her while she stays,” The duke said. Mary was the youngest of the maids, he hoped she would make the strange girl feel at home, perhaps draw out of her what had happened. Devonshire tried one more time, leaning forward.

  “Whatever happened for you to end up in this situation?” he asked, incredibly curious.

  “I… I ... I’m sorry Your Grace, I can’t talk about it.”

  Her eyes were wide, her face pale. He decided to leave her be.

  He bid her goodnight. He decided he would see her tomorrow after she was properly taken care of. He brought his butler with him to his chambers to undress him.

  “What did she speak of in the servant’s hall?” Devon asked offhandedly, as Smith took Devon’s jacket off, placing it carefully away.

  Smith moved to unbutton Devon’s collar, taking it off gently.

  “Well Your Grace, I asked her what had happened for her to end up in such a state.” Smith moved to unbutton Devon’s shirt cuffs.

  “Unfortunately, she just stammered. Whatever must have happened scared her terribly.”

  Devon nodded, he figured the same. It was a mystery however, and it intrigued him. He changed to a state of undress, wearing a shirt and his dressing gown. He lay in bed, not quite tired. All he could think about was the young girl. Her accent was quite obviously well born. Was she from London? Devon wondered. What could have led to a beautiful, well bred, young girl being in this state?

  Chapter 3

  Identity Crisis

  Sofia was led to a lovely room in the country manor. It hadn’t taken Mary long to outfit the room for Sofia.

  “I’m sorry Miss, that I won’t be able to run a bath tonight,” Mary apologized, curtsying. Sofia nodded. Her maid gave her a sleeping chemise though that fitted comfortably and a bed jacket. Mary left the room for Sofia to get dressed, for curtesy. Sofia took her shawl off, which was decorated with many pine needles all the way through. She was much more comfortable in her state of undress. She knocked on the door once she was done. Mary entered the room again, gathering Sofia’s belongings. Sofia felt dirt on her feet and it was awful.

  “We’ll wash your belongings and try to make them presentable,” Mary said. That was the last thing that was on Sofia’s mind.

  She was exhausted from her wild dash through the countryside, she knew that's what it was.

  Her head was full of thoughts of her father. He was dead. Dead. Sofia didn’t know who she could trust. Which of her father’s friends knew of this? What of her suitors? What of her life? She was depressed and scared. She realized that the man was still out there. She knew that her belongings that had been taken wouldn’t amount to nearly enough to cover her father’s debts. Whatever had caused all of this?

  Sofia was scared and didn’t know what to do. She decided to sleep.

  Her maid came and woke her in the morning. She swept the curtains back.

  “How are you feeling?” Mary asked. The girl was slim, Sofia put her at the same age as herself. She had a soft voice.

  “A bit better,” Sofia said.

  “We’re going to fill you a bath in the dressing room, then His Grace has ordered food to be sent here for you,” Mary said.

  “What time is it?” Sofia asked. All she wanted was to return to bed.

  “Eight O’clock,” Mary responded. This day would be difficult, Sofia knew.

  Mary led Sofia to a room a couple of doors down from the room she had slept in. It was painted a soft blue, with a dressing table. There was a large tub in the room as well, a beautiful luxury.

  Sofia had had a maid in her British house with her father. A lovely woman named Sarah. She’d had her maid since she was a child. Here it seemed she would have to have this stranger bathe her. Sofia didn’t really mind as much as she had thought she would have.

  Two young butlers bought in pails and pails of hot water. The bath looked terribly inviting. Mary was gentle, sponging Sofia clean. The dirt came off her feet and legs in a rush. Her back ached, and the hot water was amazing. Mary pulled out pine needles of her hair, working her hardest to get Sofia cleaner.

  “I’m sorry Miss, what was your name?”

  Mary asked softly and gently.

  Sofia had imagined this scenario the night before. She couldn’t trust anyone.

  “My name is… Rebecca. Rebecca Langton,” Sofia had never been good at lying, but these words came out easily.

  “That’s a beautiful name Rebecca,” Mary said. “Are we to wash your hair?”

  Sofia considered that carefully. She had washed her hair not long ago. But Sofia was having a terrible time and always loved having her hair washed.

  “Yes, please,” Sofia said.

  Mary doused Sofia’s hair with water. The young girl’s hands were small and deft, washing Sofia’s hair carefully. Mary massaged her scalp. Sofia loved the bath and was terribly grateful.

  “His Grace is incredibly kind to have organized this,” Sofia said. When she had met him all she could think was that he was incredibly handsome. He looked in his mid-twenties. Sofia couldn’t remember reading anything negative about him in the London paper. She knew his father had died recently. She kept close tabs on all the fashionable ladies and their husbands in the paper.

  Sofia lay in the bath wondering about her father.

  “Breakfast will be served soon Rebecca,” Mary said, stepping away. Sofia’s head was swimming, thoughts about her father flew around. Sofia stood and stepped out of the bath. Mary was utterly polite, averting her eyes as she dried Sofia off. She dressed Sofia in a soft muslin undergarment, then a beautiful long blue empire waist dress. Sofia had long hair and Mary dried it all off. Sofia sat at the dressing table, feeling quite demure. Mary put drops of oil in Sofia’s hair, brushing it all out until it was soft and beautiful. Sofia had long dark locks of curly hair. She was blessed to be born with the kind of hair that curled in loops rather than curled to be frizzy.

  Mary had skilled hands and Sofia’s hair was pinned up, then Mary brushed out curls that framed Sofia’s face beautifully. She felt quite beautiful in this gown, it was hemmed with beautiful embroidery around the lace. She was given soft socks.

  “I’m sorry, your mules are still being washed by the butler,” Mary said. Sofia’s shoes must be quite filthy, after all she had waded through the river. She was bought ballet slippers which were slightly too big for her. She appreciated it never the less.

  There was a knock at the dressing room door then. Mary went out to answer it. Through the door Sofia could see an under cook. The breakfast bought in was on a plate and a tray. Although Sofia could have thought she couldn’t possibly eat, her stomach growled angrily. There was buttered toast and fruit. Despite her hunger, Sofia remembered her upbringing and ate slowly.

  “How long have you worked at the manor, Mary?” Sofia said, making conversation. She wanted to put thoughts of her father out of her mind.

  “Around three years Miss Langton,” Mary said. Mary was still fixing Sofia’s hair, making sure it was all in the right place.

  “Do you find this a nice place to work?” Sofia asked, curiously.

  “Why yes, Miss Langton. The events held are beautiful, His Grace is a wonderful man,” Mary said. There was a slight hesita
tion in her voice. Sofia knew that that there was more to this.

  “Are you quite happy?” Sofia asked gently.

  “Quite,” Mary said, her voice strong. Sofia decided that she would drop the subject.

  Finally, her hair was fixed. Mary led Sofia back to the bedroom.

  “His Grace desires to speak with you,” Mary said, “he’ll be here shortly.”

  Mary left Sofia sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. While she was bathing someone had come and stripped the linen from the bed. She heard a knock; The duke entered the room. He was dressed in dark clothing and a perfectly starched white shirt. He wore a cravat. None of this diminished his facial features. He sat down, on the unmade bed.

  “How are you feeling?” Devon asked. His voice was gentle and soft. Sofia had to express her thanks, for all he’d done.

  “Much better, thank you for all your kindness Your Grace,” Sofia smiled at him, as well as she could.

  “Are you ready to tell me what happened?” he asked, carefully. Sofia was torn. She wanted to trust this man, but she didn’t know if she could yet.

  “No, I’m terribly sorry Your Grace, I’m still quite upset,” Sofia said. This was the truth. Tears leaked into her eyes unbidden. She was lost. Her Father was dead.

  She sniffed them back. The duke looked at her. His facial expression didn’t change. Sofia knew it was rather uncouth to cry in front of someone else. She hoped he would ignore it.

  Sofia was utterly surprised by what he heard next.

  “You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d wish,” The duke said. Sofia was shocked. This man, who didn’t know her at all, was offering her hospitality. She swallowed.

  “Thank you, Your Grace. I very much appreciate it.”

  “Will you please tell me your name?” The duke asked, carefully. Sofia nodded. It was the least she could do.

  “Rebecca Langton,” Sofia said. This time, the words came out a lot easier.

  “Rebecca, could you tell me where you live?” he asked. Sofia’s stomach twisted. Where did she live now? Nowhere, she lived nowhere. She was homeless, lost and alone. She bit her bottom lip, looking at the ground.