“Gracie, I know this looks terrible but I have a very good reason for doing what I am doing. Do you remember the questions I was asking you earlier?”
Gracie nodded, biting her lip and looking worried.
“I wanted to know if the Duke had replaced all of the household staff when he inherited…and why. Gracie, I was very close to Arthur Roy from when we were children. I used to spend my summers with my grandmother in Folkington and grew up with Arthur. Then we were lovers. He was my first love and I, his.”
Gracie blushed and looked away. Selina knew that she was sharing very personal information, but now that she had begun on this road, she had to go on. If not, Gracie would feel duty-bound to report what she had seen to Mr. Beveridge, who would promptly inform Arthur. Perhaps that would result in the marriage being called off? Would Arthur be able to trust her again? But, she had a feeling that she could trust Gracie, that there was a bond between them. She took a deep breath.
“I am not convinced that the man calling himself Arthur Roy is who he says he is,” she said in a rush.
Gracie gaped, half raising her hand to her mouth.
“You’re not serious!” she gasped.
“I am. And since Beveridge has been with him since childhood and you mentioned how meticulous he is at keeping records…”
“That you would have a good old snoop around and see what you could find out!” Gracie exclaimed.
Then she burst out laughing. Before she remembered where they both sat and clamped a hand over her mouth, eyes going wide. Selina smiled.
“I grew up with Arthur. I do not remember a loyal manservant following him everywhere. The problem is that I trust him. I want to trust him…No, I do trust him. I think he is a good man and he cares for me…”
Selina trailed off as her mind filled with Arthur. He did care for her and, she believed, he cared deeply. After all, he was prepared to marry her to protect her.
And to protect himself. Do not forget that as you are looking out at the world through your rose-tinted spectacles.
“I agree. He is a frightening man at times. Very dark and brooding sort of thing. But, very kind, I think. Very much…for his own people. If you see what I mean. We all think that. We all think he would walk over coals barefoot for us,” Gracie said.
Selina smiled and impulsively reached across the table to take Gracie’s hands. “I think you’re right. He is a good man. But I just want to know the truth. I am putting my life in his hands and…I am not sure that I know who he is! Is that completely mad?”
“No, Selina,” Gracie said earnestly, “not at all. Does it matter that you don’t know who he is? If he is a good man and if he does what he says he will…does it really matter all that much what his past has been?”
Selina wanted to say that of course it did, but she stopped with her mouth open.
Does it matter? If he is not Arthur but he is as good a man as Arthur was. A good master to his servants and a good husband to me. And, if I am honest with myself, isn’t part of the problem that Arthur never inspired such passion in me before. I loved him, but it was a pale candle compared to the fire that he now sets ablaze within me.
CHAPTER20
Selina had scandalized Mr. Beveridge by asking for a pair of breeches if one could be spared by any of the male servants. He seemed torn between obedience to the woman who was soon to be Duchess and complying with such an outrageous command. He had completed his mission and had shown no sign that he had found anything amiss in his office. A pair of servant’s breeches had duly been delivered which Gracie was able to modify to fit Selina. The urge to ride out into the expanse of the South Downs had become overwhelming for Selina. All night she had worried at the problem of the cryptic lines she had found in Mr. Beveridge’s journal, the evidence of a journey from the far north of England, the abbreviations of names. Sleep had come only in fits and starts. By the morning, she had no appetite for breakfast, but the sight of the cloud-spotted blue sky above the purple hills set in her a desire to be free.
By midday, she had taken Wind out of the stables and set her to a gallop towards those hills. With a breeze combing through her hair and the feel of the horse beneath her, Selina felt for a while as though she had outrun her worries. She knew that they were all still there, behind her. But, the cool, crisp air of the downs sluiced them from the forefront of her mind. Part of her desire to ride was a hope that she would see Dai again. Though he was a stranger, his candor was appealing. Instinctively, she felt that she could trust him. At least he had no agenda which was contrary to her interests. No agenda at all. He seemed a simple man who had found himself a comfortable niche in the world. Such a man could surely be trusted to give honest opinions. Then there was his view of Arthur. Dai had told her that the Duke was a good man. As had Gracie.
She clung to that view.
Arthur is a good man. Even if he is not Arthur…he is still a good man and will have his reasons for the deception.
Heather and long grass passed smoothly beneath her as she allowed Wind to a trot along a grassy track that wound across the hillside. There had been no sign of Dai. Frustratingly, she couldn’t remember how to find the secret dell that she and Arthur had spent so much time together in. It made her feel that she had imagined it, or dreamed it, which was a disturbing notion. Selina took a deep breath, filling her lungs with clear, hillside air. To her right, there was a narrow valley, a bustling stream making its busy way along the bottom. To her left was a sea of rolling hills, stretching into a hazy distance. On an impulse, as she approached a crossing in the track she followed, she turned Wind to the left. Presently the track wound down the hillside and over a stone, humpbacked bridge.
I remember the bridge. I have been here before.
Encouraged, she continued to descend, taking another turn with what felt like an entirely random choice. A grove of oaks appeared beside the track which was now composed of bare earth. Again, Selina felt a tang of familiarity.
Another sign from my past. Perhaps I was not choosing this path at random but according to the whims of memories I did not even know I had.
The trail leveled off, hills looming to either side, and curved around the oaks, from which a wide, shallow stream emerged. Another bridge carried her across the stream and past a farmhouse whose chimney emitted a spire of twisting smoke. Selina couldn’t remember the name of the farm but she could picture its owner. Becoming excited that perhaps she was on the trail of the magical dell that she and Arthur had made their own, she urged Wind to a canter. The landscape swam by as the horse stretched its legs. She let her run, going to a full gallop. The way was clear ahead, flat, and with no dangers that she could see. They reached a pass, with hills to either side, opening out to a patchwork of fields and meadows. In the distance was a cluster of buildings, centered around a church steeple.
A road of hard-packed clay intersected the trail, running between high hedges and dry stone walls. She brought Wind to a halt. They were higher than the village in the distance, at the mouth of the hill valley that she had crossed into from the high downs.
That is surely Folkington. My, I have got myself turned around. I did not know that I had come in this direction. In my mind, I was heading into the Downs, losing myself in wilderness.
