“Do you suspect him of wrongdoing? Is he not the one that guards your mother even now?”
“No, he is not responsible for what has befallen the Duchess, but he has shown an interest in a dear friend of mine, and I wish to know the measure of him. He is the cook’s nephew. Perhaps you could begin your inquiries in the kitchen.”
“Of course, Your Lordship. I will do so immediately.” The lieutenant bowed and moved to do as promised.
Frederick stayed and watched the horses for a time, attempting to sort through the last day’s events, until he saw the doctor riding up the drive to the house. Frederick walked over to greet the physician and inform him of his concerns for both Josephine and the Duchess. When the doctor went in to see Josephine, Frederick paced back and forth anxiously awaiting his word. The sound of terrible body racking coughs filtered through the walls causing him to cringe in empathy.
Poor sweet Josephine. Were it I could spare you such agony.
At the other end of the hall the footman, Greeves, bore an equally concerned expression as he stood guard outside of the Duchess’ door. If the sound of her cough was any indication, she had worsened greatly in the short period of time since he had left her. The last time he had heard such a terrible bone-jarring rattle, the ailing servant had died. He could not bear the idea of her loss, and so he prayed as he paced. When the doctor emerged, Frederick nearly charged at him in his need to know the diagnosis.
“Pneumonia,” the doctor’s solemn face told of his grave concern.
“She will recover,” Frederick more demanded than asked.
“It is uncertain, My Lord, but I will do all I can to see that she does. It would have been best had I been called before now, but it is too late for such thoughts.”
“Please, Doctor. Do whatever you must to cure her. I will pay you well for time and services.”
“I will do all I can, My Lord, but only God can be sure of the outcome.”
Frederick pushed past the doctor into the guest room and knelt by Josephine’s side. “I gave her a sleeping draught to allow her to rest and ease her pain,” the doctor’s voice explained from behind him. “She should sleep until the morn. I will leave what medicinals I have that might be of aid when she awakens and return upon the morrow to ensure that she improves. I will go and see to the Duchess now, with your permission, My Lord.”
Frederick nodded his approval and waved his hand in agreement for the doctor to go. He stayed beside Josephine’s bed and held her hand in his, praying all the while. “Will she recover?” Greeves’ voice asked from the open doorway.
“Are you not my mother’s guard?” Frederick chastised rising to face his errant servant.
“I have been relieved by another. The doctor is with Her Grace as we speak. I simply wished to inquire as to Josephine’s wellbeing.” Greeves stepped forward and looked down into her face. “She is beautiful even now,” he whispered brushing a strand of hair from her face.
“You are entirely too familiar, Greeves. I suggest you turn your attentions elsewhere. Miss Merton is meant for better than you,” Frederick angrily informed him. “Now leave us.”
Greeves opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. “My Lord,” he bowed stiffly then turned and left the room, his back ramrod straight, muscles tensed in anger.
Frederick stayed by Josephine’s side cooling her brow as needed until Mr. Johnson entered beckoning him to follow out into the hall. Frederick arose and did so, only to find the butler awaiting him quite agitated. “The Duchess has received another missive, My Lord. I recognized the handwriting and thought it best to bring it to you first so as not to cause Her Grace any further distress. Please forgive me if I have overstepped my place, Your Lordship.”
“Not at all, Mr. Johnson. I am grateful for your forethought and compassion. It was most wise of you to consider the Duchess’ well-being in this way. You may expect a handsome reward for your kindness.”
“No such reward is needed, My Lord. I serve at the pleasure of the Duke and Duchess. Their well-being is my primary concern, as is yours, My Lord.”
“You are a good man, Mr. Johnson. You have my gratitude.”
The butler bowed and left to give Frederick some privacy to face what lay beneath the missive’s seal. Frederick examined the outside of the letter and found it to be as nondescript as the others that had come before it.To the Duchess of Chescrown.He broke the seal and opened the folds to reveal the now familiar scrawl.Tell him the truth or I will. Defy my orders and you will rue the day you were born, for I will take all from you as you took all from me.
Frederick clutched the letter in anger, crinkling the crisp surface of the paper.
Who dares to threaten my mother in such a way?
His hands shook with fury. He fought the urge to storm into his mother’s room and demand answers. The only thing that held him back was that he did not wish to cause her any further pain. She was already beside herself with fear. His father retreated into himself more and more with each passing day. Frederick suspected that the Duke, like himself, doubted the truthfulness of the Duchess’ denials.
In need of counsel, Frederick went in search of Devon Tatham. He wished to keep the number of people who knew of the scandalous letters to a minimum, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to do so and obtain answers. He needed a wiser, calmer head to aid him. “Mr. Tatham,” he called out once reaching the stables.
“Yes, My Lord?” Tatham emerged wiping his hands on a cloth. “How may I be of service?”
“I have a matter of great import to discuss with you pertaining to the threats on Mother’s life. I seek your counsel.” Frederick explained what had happened with the poachers and then showed him the latest note. “I have not shown it to either the Duke or the Duchess, for I fear it might be the end of Mother. I have attempted to ascertain the truth of the matter and met resistance. I fear I am forced to resort to less private methods of inquiry.”
“Does the Duchess not have the right to know when her life is being threatened? Should she not be allowed the opportunity to address what lies within these pages?” Mr. Tatham gently prodded handing him back the notes. “I urge you toward inquiry, but with caution, My Lord.”
“I plan to press the poachers further for an answer to their claims. I will also be questioning the staff at Pentford.”
