After Higgins had served another round of cold, lumpy porridge for breakfast, Birdie decided she had enough.
She pushed her spectacles up her nose and stared at the velvet purse that still lay on the table.
A plan formed in her mind.
The village. Maybe that was a place where she could get some more information.
And hire a cook.
And a maid.
And—she glanced about the room––a few girls to help clean out this place. It looked like the room hadn’t been dusted since the Middle Ages.
She would begin her role as a duchess by visiting the cottages and delivering food baskets. For this is what duchesses commonly did. Birdie liked the idea excessively.
“I need baskets, Higgins,” she told the butler as he cleared the table.
“A casket?”
“Bas-ket,” she articulated. “You know. To put things in.” She’d seen a collection of gooseberry jam jars on the shelves in the kitchen. The place certainly didn’t lack in gooseberry jam, porridge and blood sausages. She could add a batch of sugar biscuits she’d quickly made this morning, in the presence of Higgins, who’d wrung his hands in agony the entire time. She’d given him a biscuit to munch on, and then he was quiet, and a blissful smile crossed his face. She’d given him three and a plate to take up to the duke. Ever since then, she had a niggling suspicion that she’d been elevated in Higgins’ grudging respect. Suddenly, she could get anything she wanted. He’d even cleared the bookshelf away in the library—she wondered how he did it on his own. Maybe the man was stronger than he led on—and attempted some meagre dusting in the hall. Not that it had made much of a difference. She was still stuck with porridge for supper and that wouldn’t do.
The morning wasblustery and cold as Birdie marched down the path to the village. Higgins, bless his soul, had obtained two small rickety baskets from a stable somewhere. She’d cleaned them as best as she could and filled them with the food she’d got from the larder.
“If only I could add something pretty, like flowers.” But the only flowers she could see were purple thistles that grew along the stone wall. She picked several and adorned the basket with them. “It will have to do.”
She hadn’t seen Gabriel since their meeting in the library yesterday. She wondered what he did all day. What about his duties and obligations? So far, she hadn’t seen him fulfilling any ducal duties at all.
The man was deeply wounded––and not just externally. But was that a reason to wall oneself up in this stone tower? He was a duke, not Rapunzel. Though, if he kept growing that hair, he could compete with Rapunzel for sure.
Soon, Birdie reached the quaint village and stopped outside a thatched hut. A group of children were playing in the muddy street. They stopped when she approached, looking at her curiously.
“Hello there. Are your mothers at home?” Birdie asked them.
A little urchin in bare feet, with mud on her face, stuck her thumb into her mouth and nodded.
“Where does she live, my dear?”
The girl pointed to another hut further down the dirt street.
Excellent.
Birdie rapped on the door in joyful anticipation of finally being able to execute her duty as a duchess.
The door opened, and a little boy stood in front of her. He had a shock of unruly red curls, tremendous eyes and was bare-footed. He had only one arm. The sleeve of his right arm was knotted together and dangled down at his side.
Birdie beamed at him. “Hello there. Who are you?”
“Tommy.”
“Hello, Tommy. Is your mother here, perhaps?”
A woman came to the door and protectively planted her hands on the boy’s shoulders.
“Good day. I’m Roberta Tal–I mean, I’m the new duchess. I married the duke yesterday. I wanted to introduce myself.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “Aye. They’ve read the banns in kirk the last three Sundays.” The woman looked her up and down. She didn’t look particularly friendly.
“And who might you be?” Birdie asked brightly.
