The Duke Is Deceived Read online

  “It will indeed, my Lady,” Dawson said, “and Miss Ursa finds it dull with the Master away.”

  “I know she does,” Penelope said. “Anyway, look after everything as you always have and Miss Ursa will be back before my father returns.”

  She swept out through the front door as she spoke and then climbed into the closed carriage where Ursa was already sitting.

  A footman dressed in the Brackley livery and wearing a cockaded hat closed the door.

  As soon as he had jumped up beside the coachman, they drove off.

  As they passed down the drive and out into the road that led through the village, Ursa said,

  “I can hardly – believe this is – happening. Oh, Penelope, I am so afraid I shall let – you down! Supposing your mother-in-law is – suspicious?”

  “I have already told you that she is as blind as a bat,” Penelope replied, “and I was calculating on my way here that she has seen me only four times in her life.”

  Ursa looked at her sister in astonishment.

  “Is that – really true?”

  “Of course it is,” Penelope answered. “She did not come to the wedding because, being blind, she does not like travelling to London or anywhere else for that matter.”

  She spoke scathingly and went on,

  “Arthur and I went once to Brackley Park before we were married and I drove over once with Papa, when you were still at school. Since then I have been there twice when Arthur insisted on my accompanying him.”

  Ursa did not speak and her sister continued,

  “I can assure you, it was deadly dull and I was thankful to get away.”

  “Suppose,” Ursa said hesitatingly, “she asks me questions I cannot answer?”

  “Oh, just improvise,” Penelope retorted. “You are supposed to be the clever one of the family! It cannot be past your capability to answer the questions of a blind woman.”

  “I-I will do my – best,” Ursa said humbly, “but you must not be – angry with me, Penelope, if I make a – mess of it.”

  “I shall be very angry! But really the only thing that matters is that Arthur should think I am safely ensconced with his boring old mother! There will be no reason for him to imagine I am – elsewhere.”

  “And when he – returns?” Ursa asked.

  “I shall be waiting for him in London with my arms outstretched, telling him how much I have missed him!” Penelope answered. “The most important thing you will learn as you grow older is that men believe what they want to believe and most of them are so conceited that they cannot believe you do not love them as much as they love you!”

  They drove a little way in silence and then Ursa said,

  “I always – hoped, Penelope, that you would be very – happy when you – married.”

  “I am happy,” Penelope insisted positively. “It is just a pity that I did not meet Vernon three years ago.”

  There was a yearning in her voice and then she laughed.

  “Not that he would have looked at me then, if we had! He has no use for debutantes, even though they pursue him madly.”

  “Then you do not – think he would – have married – you?” Ursa asked.

  “Pigs might fly,” Penelope replied. “Men in London and Vernon is very much a man-about- town, like women to be sophisticated, amusing and, of course, beautiful.”

  As she spoke, she turned to look at her sister.

  “When I see the difference in you, I cannot imagine how you can sit in the country amongst the turnips and not insist upon Papa taking you to London.”

  Ursa could not help thinking that if Penelope thought she should go to London, she might have invited her to come and stay with her.

  But she only replied quietly,

  “I am very happy to be with Papa. You know how interested I am in his work and I find it fascinating when he is sent or finds ancient documents to add to his library.”

  “I have always thought it all extremely dull and stuffy,” Penelope sighed, “but then, as you know, I was never any good at foreign languages.”

  Ursa knew that this was true.

  Penelope had found it extremely difficult to acquire even a smattering of French.

  They drove on.

  When Ursa thought they must be nearing the end of their journey, she asked quickly,

  “I am sure there are more things you should have told me about your mother-in-law. Who was she before she married?”

  “Oh, no one of any particular importance,” Penelope replied. “Arthur claims that she was exceedingly pretty, which is why she attracted his father. But I have no time to ask a lot of questions about someone I never see.”

  As she finished speaking, Penelope bent forward to add,

  “Here we are at last!”

  Ursa looked surprised.

  She found that they were outside a large Posting inn and not, as she had expected, at Brackley Park.

  She was about to ask the question when Penelope said,

  “This is where I leave you. Now remember from this moment on you are me – not yourself. And for Heaven’s sake, suck up to the old woman so that she tells Arthur how charming I have been to her.”

  The carriage had come to a standstill and the footman was opening the door.

  Without saying any more, Penelope climbed out and hurried through the main door of the Posting inn.

  Marie, who had been sitting on the box squeezed between the coachman and the footman, jumped down.

  She got into the carriage to sit on the narrow seat with her back to the horses.

  The footman closed the door and the horses moved off.

  It all happened very quickly.

  As they drove away, Ursa thought that Penelope might have prepared her for what had just happened.

  She should have told her that Vernon, whoever he was, would be waiting for her at the Posting inn.

  She thought now that she had seen a magnificent looking carriage drawn by four horses in the courtyard.

  It was only a passing glimpse, but she felt it must have been waiting for her sister.

  Now that she was alone with Marie, she talked to her in French and the maid was delighted.

  “You speak my language like a Parisian, m’mselle,” she said. “How can you be so fluent, when her Ladyship is, Mon Dieu! so bad?”

  “My father was very insistent that I should speak a number of languages,” Ursa explained, “so that I could help him with his work”

  Marie then talked about her home and the glamour of Paris.

  As she chatted on it, struck Ursa that she was homesick.

  She was living in a house where nobody spoke her language and she found it very lonely.

  Ursa drew her out.

  When she had heard all about Marie’s family, she asked about her life in London.

  “I come to London,” Marie explained, “because her Ladyship give me very good money, but I miss my home and, of course, the man I am engaged to.”

  “You are engaged to be married?” Ursa exclaimed. “But surely it is very sad for you to be so far away from him?”

  “We both work hard and save, m’mselle,” Marie said. “When I go back to France, I have large dowry and Jacques is also saving so we have leetle house in Paris and everything we want.”

  It sounded an ideal aim and Ursa was interested.

  They were still talking about Marie’s future when they turned in at the gates of a drive.

  “We are here,” Ursa exclaimed. “Oh, Marie, help me not to make any mistakes. Her Ladyship will be very angry – if I am exposed as – an imposter.”

  Marie laughed.

  “You are quite safe, m’mselle,” she said. “You look now very like her Ladyship and in your own way très très belle!”

  Ursa smiled.

  “Thank you, Marie, and you must keep me looking très très belle, until I can go home.”

  “I will do that, my Lady!” she promised.

  She emphasised the last two words.r />
  Ursa knew that from this moment she must not only look like her sister but also think like her.

  *

  Brackley Park was an early Victorian house and, Ursa thought, not particularly attractive.

  It was, however, impressively large and solidly built.

  The garden, she saw, was pleasantly laid out and well-tended.

  The carriage drew up with a flourish outside the front door.

  A footman ran down the steps on which there was a red carpet.

  He opened the carriage door and Ursa stepped out.

  Feeling shy she walked into the hall where she was received by a butler with white hair.

  “Welcome, my Lady,” he began politely. “Her Ladyship’s looking forward to your arrival and is in the drawing room.”

  He went ahead to lead the way and Ursa followed him.

  She thought that the hall was somewhat austere and lacked charm.

  The butler opened a door and announced,

  “Her Ladyship, my Lady!”

  Feeling as if a dozen butterflies were fluttering in her breast, Ursa went inside.

  Sitting in a chair by the fireplace at the far end of the room was a woman with white hair.

  As she drew nearer to her, Ursa realised that she was still beautiful and had a kind expression.

  She was dressed in black with five rows of pearls at her neck.

  The hand that was held out towards hers glittered with several diamond rings.

  “Penelope, my dear,” she said in a soft voice, “it is delightful to have you here. I was so pleased when I received Arthur’s letter.”

  Ursa bent and, taking the Dowager’s hand, kissed her cheek.

  “He has gone to Tangier,” she said, “he wanted me to stay with you while he is away.”

  “That is what he said in his letter,” the Dowager answered. “As you can imagine, I am delighted to have you with me, although I am afraid that you will miss the gaiety that you enjoy in London.”

  “It’s nice to have a change,” Ursa said.

  “Do sit down, dear child,” the Dowager suggested. “Johnson will be bringing us some tea and I am sure you need it after your long drive.”

  “That would be delightful,” Ursa replied.

  Looking at the Dowager, she realised that she was in fact completely blind.

  It reassured her that she was in no danger of being denounced on sight as an imposter.

  She managed to talk about the countryside and how much she had enjoyed the drive until the butler and two footmen came in with the tea.

  “I am afraid that you will have to pour out for me,” the Dowager explained when Johnson said it was ready.

  “Yes, of course,” Ursa agreed, “and you must tell me if you take milk and sugar.”

  She handed the cup, when she had filled it, to the Dowager and asked what she would like to eat.

  “I am not hungry,” Lady Brackley replied, “but I am sure you must be, unless of course, like so many other ladies today, you are worrying about having a tiny waist.”

  “Mine has never been very large,” Ursa answered.

  The Dowager laughed.

  “I remember Arthur telling me, when he described you to me, that your waist was so small that he could encompass it with his two hands!”

  Ursa did not know what to say to this and she was silent.

  The Dowager went on,

  “You have made my son very happy, my dear. When he told me he was going to marry you, I was worried about the difference in your ages.”

  She paused as if she was calculating and then said,

  “After all, Arthur is now forty-five and I thought he would have been happier with an older woman, but I was mistaken.”

  “I am – glad I have made him – happy,” Ursa murmured.

  She could not help thinking that it was wrong to deceive this charming old lady.

  But there was nothing she could do about it now and the Dowager continued,

  “I have prayed that you and Arthur would have a son, but, of course, you are still very young and I am sure that God will be kind and send you a baby soon.”

  “I-I am sure – your prayers will – be heard,” Ursa stammered.

  “If I am making you feel embarrassed, you must forgive me, my dear, but I am so much alone that when I do talk to people I tend to express the feelings that perhaps I should keep to myself.”

  “I hope that you can say anything you want to say to me,” Ursa replied, “and, while I am here, you must allow me to read to you.”

  The Dowager raised her eyebrows.

  “I remember when you stayed here a year ago,” she answered, “you told me that you hated reading aloud.”

  Ursa realised that she had made a mistake and replied quickly,

  “I expect that was because I felt nervous in case I disappointed you. But this time, I would love to read you anything you would like me to.”

  She thought how often she had read aloud to her father.

  She also thought it was very selfish of Penelope not to have read to her mother-in-law when she was blind.

  “You must go to the library and choose a book that you think will interest us both,” the Dowager suggested. “I am afraid that there are not many up to date novels, but I am sure that you will find something we can both enjoy.”

  “I am sure I shall,” Ursa said, “and tomorrow we will start enjoying perhaps a visit to some distant country.”

  The Dowager laughed.

  “That sounds delightful. And now, if you have finished your tea, I am sure you would like to go upstairs and rest a little before dinner. It is something I always do and I expect you are tired after your long journey.”

  “Y-yes – of course,” Ursa agreed, remembering that Penelope was supposed to have come all the way from London.

  The Dowager rang a little gold bell that stood beside her chair.

  The door was opened almost immediately by Johnson.

  “Take her Ladyship upstairs, Johnson,” she said, “and ask Martha to come and take me up so that I can rest before dinner.”

  “Martha’s here, my Lady,” Johnson replied.

  An elderly maid came into the room and walked towards the Dowager’s chair.

  “We are both going to lie down, Martha,” the Dowager said.

  She turned her head in the direction of Ursa and said,

  “Penelope, dear, you remember Martha? She has been with me for thirty years and I could not do without her.”

  Ursa held out her hand.

  As she did so, she was afraid that Martha might exclaim that she was not his Lordship’s wife.

  But Martha only dropped a small curtsey as she said,

  “It’s been a long time, my Lady. I thought you’d forgotten us.”

  “No, of course not,” Ursa replied quickly. “It is just that his Lordship is so busy that we have not had a chance to get away from London or Windsor.”

  “Arthur told me in his last letter how much the Queen relies on him,” the Dowager said with pride.

  Manna helped her out of her chair and was now guiding her across the room towards the door.

  “That is true” Ursa agreed, “and he is always being asked to Windsor Castle.”

  “I only wish that I could see him more often,” the Dowager said wistfully, “but I must not be selfish when he is doing so much for the country.’“

  Following them up the stairs, Ursa thought that she had taken two jumps without falling.

  First Johnson might have realised that she was not Penelope and now Martha.

  However she was quite certain now that they had no suspicions.

  As she followed her sister’s mother-in-law along the corridor, she felt a feeling of relief.

  She realised that when she arrived she had in fact been very frightened.

  ‘Now everything is all right,’ she thought, ‘and I will just make this dear old lady happy while I am here. It must never enter her head that Penelope is behaving in
such an improper manner.’

  Because she did not wish to criticise her sister, she tried to thrust the thought away.

  Yet at the back of her mind she knew that however hard she tried, her sister’s infidelity to her husband shocked her.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Marie took a great deal of trouble in arranging Ursa’s hair and making her face up with cosmetics.

  “It’s very kind of you,” Ursa said, “and it’s just a pity that no one can see me.”

  She gave a little laugh as she spoke.

  Marie replied seriously in French,

  “There are always the servants, my Lady, and they talk!”

  Ursa knew that this was true.

  In a very different tone she asked anxiously,

  “Do many of the servants here – know my sister – by sight?”

  Marie nodded.

  “Oui, my Lady, but the housekeeper said how young you were looking and even more beautiful than when she last saw you!”

  Ursa had a little throb of fear in case the housekeeper was suspicious.

  “Don’t you worry, my Lady,” Marie said, “everything’s all right and they are not very bright.”

  She spoke scathingly and Ursa could not help smiling.

  Parisians always thought themselves clever and quicker-brained than people from other parts of the world and even from any other part of France.

  Ursa was quite sure that she would show off her intelligence to the other staff.

  When her hair was finished, Marie went to the wardrobe.

  “Not the best gown tonight. I think, my Lady,” she said, but very smart and you must remember that you are La Belle de Londres!”

  Ursa laughed.

  “I wish that were true! But, of course, when I read the newspapers, I find my sister is always described as being ‘splendidly gowned’.”

  “I see to that,” Marie crowed proudly.

  Ursa thanked her and went slowly down the stairs. The Dowager liked to dine early and the sun was still shining outside.

  Ursa’s skirts rustled silkily as she moved.

  The sunlight glittered on her diamond earrings and she thought that she might just as well be acting in a play.

  Then she gave a little shiver.

  ‘At least it’s not a tragedy!’ she said to herself.

  As she entered the drawing room, it was to find that the Dowager was already there.