Clementine

Chapter 30: Spreading the News

In the morning many things were clearer to Julian in retrospect. The beach would indeed have been sandy, for instance. After lying still for a while looking at her he feared he would wake Clementine by touching her, so he slipped out of bed and looked out of the window. Perhaps the day had already been underway for a long while. That would not surprise him. They had not gone to sleep straight away.

He knew he had done right. He could only feel happiness with regard to his situation. To be thoroughly appreciated was always agreeable.

"I am tempted to think it a very nice view indeed," Clementine said lazily at some point. She had woken and found him gone. Soon enough she had seen him at the window and she had waited to speak for a few moments, revelling in the knowledge that he was hers.

He turned. "How can you see it from there?"

"Oh are you talking about the view outside?" She got out of bed and joined him.

He raised his eyebrows at this move, but only briefly. He put his arm around her and they stared at the sea until the presence of people on the promenade below reminded them that they had best not appear too near a window in such a state.

"I am cold," she said in a small but teasing voice. He was curious and he was playful -- he would certainly react.

"In that case..." He lifted her up and carried her back to the bed.

"Should I be more demure?" Clementine wondered over their late breakfast. It was quite late already. "I thought that perhaps ... well, I distracted you from a timely breakfast."

"Oh, not at all," Julian said with a reassuring grin. "I now know exactly how you feel. Besides, do you really think I could be distracted if I preferred to do something else?"

She gave him a brilliant smile. "Thank you. And how do you rate sailing today?"

He pretended to think. "Perhaps higher. It is harder to learn, is it not?"

They had decided they would travel home the same day, since there was not much left for them to do here. It had begun to rain and even Julia would not like the beach in that kind of weather. There was plenty to do at home, on the other hand. Clementine's possessions would have to be moved once again and she would have to settle in at the manor.

"Everybody will at least know that you married me for Julia," Clementine said with some relief as they were on their way back home. Now that the future was secured, she could devote some thought to the reception of the news. They were taking one hurdle at a time.

"Indeed," said her new husband. Julia was sleeping in his arms. "It is a very acceptable reason to wed. The villagers cannot be too surprised."

"Are we going to stay in the country?" Nobody could shun a duke in the country. That could only happen among equals in town. People in the country might talk initially, but they would have to accept the fact that the situation was not going to change. Clementine did not think her behaviour would give rise to further gossip. She would continue to be a good mother and she would only add being a good wife to her qualities. It was not going to cost her much effort.

"Unless you would rather not," answered Julian. "But I have no very wide acquaintance, least of all in town." He reconsidered his answer after he had spoken. He did know a great many people, all connected to Navy circles naturally, but he was not in the habit of keeping in close contact with them. Sometimes they met frequently, sometimes they did not.

"I would rather stay in the country. I know some people in town who should forget me first." She knew what the talk would be and none of it would be close to the truth at all.

"I am tempted to think that out of sight is out of mind in the fashionable circles. Besides, if those people have a daughter and you have a son, they will welcome you with open arms to prey on him. I may not want to do that to him."

It was already known in the village that Mrs. Rigby had gone away to the coast with Miss Julia and although this trip had given rise to much speculation, nobody had known anything definitively. Mrs. Rigby's servants had not been out much and whenever they were questioned, they had only answered that they did not know either why the seaside was attractive out of season, or whether their mistress was to meet particular people there.

By now it was also common knowledge that His Grace had travelled in another direction, not south but east. He had left earlier, so he could not have anything to do with the fact that the duchess had lent Mrs. Rigby her old carriage.

But the carriage had come back empty, people had seen, so they wondered what this meant. Perhaps it would be sent to the coast next week to collect her?

Upon their return the duke made the carriage stop in the middle of High Street and he went into Mr Potter's shop without answering any queries from his ladies with more than a wink. He knew what he was doing, but it would take too long to explain. Besides, he derived some amusement from not telling.

"Your Grace," Mr Potter said respectfully. "It is good to see you have returned. How may I be of assistance to you?"

It was interesting to hear his absence had been noted. He had not expected otherwise. "That stationery you procure for me in town, Mr Potter, could you order a female version of it? Not for my aunt, but for my wife, Her Grace the Duchess of Muncester?"

Mr Potter stared. "Wife," he said dumbly.

The duke was already on his way out. "With the family crest, to be sure -- but on more elegant paper?" he called over his shoulder, trying not to laugh. Surely this revelation would spread like a fire. It would be all over the village in a matter of minutes. The duke has a wife.

"I -- I am not sure she likes elegant paper, Your Grace."

Julian now knew why he had come to Mr Potter's shop in particular and he grinned, glad his trust in the man's perception had been justified. "She must get used to it."

"Why are you amused?" Clementine asked suspiciously when Julian came back into the carriage. "What did you tell Mr Potter? You told him something. I can tell."

Julian's eyes sparkled. "I ordered stationery for my wife."

She gasped. "What did he say to that?"

"His curiosity and quickness of mind ensured that he realised very quickly what I was implying."

She leant forward. "Me? But did he approve?"

He had not stayed to find that out. Perhaps that was why he had left so quickly, he wondered. "He is not to approve; he is to accept. He will."

"Well," she said thoughtfully. "He does seem to like me, but that does not mean he thinks me a suitable duchess."

"Oh, what does he know about suitable duchesses? He is not a duke. I am and I say you are."

"His Grace was away to be married!" Mr Potter informed Mrs. Tompkins when she had entered his shop for no errand in particular. He assumed the duke's brief visit was something of a licence to spread the news.

"Married!" she replied, feeling she had been used terribly ill for not having been informed before. "Married?"

"That is what I deduced," said the shopkeeper, proud of his deduction. "He came in here to order stationery for his wife."

"But who did he marry?"

"Mrs. Rigby, of course!" There could be no doubt about that. The empty carriage -- he was certain they had come back together. "She was away too, as you know, Mrs. Tompkins."

"I have always said it would be so!" Mrs. Tompkins cried, adjusting herself to these new facts with amazing speed. "Did I not tell you the moment she took the house?"

"You did." He refrained from mentioning that she had said the same thing with regard to Lady Iris.

"I said it to Mr Tompkins as soon as she took possession of the house. Mark my words, Mr Tompkins, there is a wedding in the air! She is far too pretty. I knew there was a previous acquaintance. Mr Potter, what do you make of the child being called Julia?" She approached his counter with an air of secrecy and scandal.

"What should I make of it?" he asked with a wary expression.

"Julia! Like the duchess! And the duke!" She wondered why he did not see the obvious.

He did, but it was a different sort of obvious. "And a great many other people, like Mrs. Potter's mother."

"Yes, but she could be his natural child." She found it hard to pronounce those words normally.

This was not the first time that such a speculation occurred. Mr Potter was even aware of Mrs. Rigby's reaction to it -- apparently she had remained calm and polite, yet determined to dispel such a notion. "I heard from Mrs. Fox that the duke was at sea at the time of conception."

"How does Mrs. Fox know?"

"She applied some arithmetic. I know you would like a certain reading, but look at the facts. Children and fools speak the truth. He is not Papa, said Julia."

"There is Mr Newman across the street!" Mrs. Tompkins hobbled towards the door. "Mr Newman! Mr Newman! Come in here, if you please!"

He obliged her. There might be something serious, after all. "Did Mr Potter faint that you need my presence in the shop, Mrs. Tompkins?" he inquired.

She ushered him inside. "Mr Newman, the duke got married!"

"I am happy to hear it."

"Do you not want to know to whom?" she cried, appalled at his flat tone. He was the duke's steward. He ought to be interested.

"I doubt that the answer would surprise me."

She insisted on telling him regardless. "To Mrs. Rigby!"

"That does indeed not surprise me."

"Why not? Why did he go off east and she to the seaside, Mr Newman? Did he tell you?"

"Of course, but I do not make a habit of divulging his confidences to the entire village, Mrs. Tompkins." He had never done that.

"Is Miss Julia his natural daughter?"

Mr Newman was taken aback by the question. "Mrs. Rigby might not be pleased to hear you ask such a thing."

"But what do you think?"

"I think nothing and you should not either."

Mr Potter gave a slight shrug. "Mrs. Tompkins, I told you what Mrs. Fox said. He was at sea and she was not. I have never heard of a man so accomplished!"

Mrs. Tompkins ignored that. It did not suit her at this moment. "But of course you think nothing, Mr Newman! You have peculiar notions about these matters."

"You must be referring to Mrs. Newman," he responded.

"Before she was Mrs. Newman!" Before they had married, he had dallied with his nanny, she was sure of it, and they had been forced to marry. It had not been the child, though. The second child had come too late for that.

"You must be quite pleased to have so many depraved men within your community," he said sharply. "They afford you no end of intrigue." He did not see what could be so wrong about marriage and procreation. That was man's main task.

She felt she was nearing dangerous territory and she backed away a little. "But you did not behave as expected either!"

"That all depends on whom one is asking. Mrs. Newman will say I behaved entirely as she expected."

She gasped. "Are you saying she knew what you were planning?" She had always considered Mrs. Newman to be a victim.

Mr Newman looked a little exasperated. "I was so kind as to tell her that there was a Mrs. Tompkins in the village who would think all manner of wicked things of me if I hired a pretty young girl to take care of my son, so that if I was sensible I should not hire her." He was not even inventing that completely.

Mrs. Tompkins gasped again and Mr Potter snorted.

Mr Newman was secure in his employment, more secure than under his previous employer. The current duke was steady and less prone to follies. He would certainly not commit the error of dismissing his steward before he had acquired the ability to judge who would be a good replacement. Since Mr Newman also rejoiced in a happy domestic situation and a clear conscience as to how that had come about, he was not perturbed by the trifles of gossip himself.

He had, after all, been very considerate of his lady, discussing all the implications with her beforehand. Anne's shyness had hidden a keen understanding and warm sensibilities, which had become apparent when he had interviewed her for the position and which had made him alter his plans then and there.

Although she had been mortified at having applied for a position with someone who upon arrival turned out to be a widower -- which had made him wonder about the urgency with which she had replied to advertisements, as well as about the urgency with which he had composed his advertisement -- they had soon agreed that Thomas needed a friendly face to take care of him.

She was the first friendly face Thomas had seen and when confronted with this realisation, Mr Newman could not help but conclude that in actual fact that was what Thomas and he needed. He loved his son and he would like for him to be loved by whoever took care of him. Until he had seen his candidates in action, this thought had not occurred to him. He had not known there could be so many differences in approaching an infant.

He had furthermore revealed his wish to provide Thomas with a new mother at some point, something that had occurred to him only during the interview. "I might like you," he had said, but she had not seemed worried. He had promised her good behaviour and the utmost circumspection, which had resulted in his immediately telling the gossips that of course he planned to marry his son's governess eventually.

Mrs. Newman had not always liked the gossip, but they had both come to realise that there would be talk no matter what they did. His Grace the Duke of Muncester was about to find out the same. Mr Newman first went home to discuss this with his spouse and then he might see about going to the manor.

Chapter 31: Congratulations

"Do we lend some support, Anne?" Mr Newman asking as he was pacing the room with his baby son on his arm. "I do not know if he cares." He had just informed his wife of the conversation in Mr Potter's shop, notably of Mrs. Tompkins' wild speculations.

"She will," Mrs. Newman said quietly. "And she has more to be concerned about." Her husband had acquainted her with Clementine's history as soon as the duke had written about it to him. She had been pleasantly surprised when she had met the other woman, although one never knew which circumstances had led to such a situation.

Mrs. Newman was very familiar with the desperate situation a young lady might find herself in when she had no money. She had come out of it, only because of Mr Newman's assistance. Apparently the previous duke had considered himself to be doing the same, yet he had been less proper. She should not think about it if she did not know how it had gone, although her husband had offered his speculations. Her own interaction with the previous duke had been limited and she had not known him well enough to form a decent opinion. Her husband had said, however, that he was not a very steady young man, one who was not yet grown up.

She had expected a similar sort of woman then, but instead her husband had reported that the woman was much older in manners, although not in years. Mrs. Newman had dared to come for a visit after she had been invited, because her husband had said that apparently Mrs. Rigby was in favour of wives reading their husbands' correspondence.

"I think I shall walk over to offer my congratulations," Mr Newman decided. "And I may take little Charles with me." A visit would appear less serious if he brought the child. It would seem more friendly and less nosy.

"Well, you may, but he will not like it." Mrs. Newman watched as he gently bounced Charles on his arm. She was fairly certain about this.

"Why not?"

"He likes his feeding time. If you take him, His Grace may regret instantly that he has committed himself to such a future." She smiled, because she believed it would take more than a crying baby to accomplish that, perhaps not even a whole room of crying babies. He was only just married.

"Then you must come, Anne. I cannot delay it -- soon they will dress for dinner."

"What good will it do if I am to be locked away in another room during our visit?" asked Mrs. Newman, but she was already gathering the necessary objects.

Arriving at the manor, the duke and the new duchess faced the ignorance of the guests. George was supposed to have left, but Lady Iris and her mother should still be here. First, however, they would inform the servants. Julian prepared Clementine for the revelations, saying all she would have to do was stand beside him and smile. He would take care of everything. That relieved her.

"I did the same only recently," he assured her. He had had to meet all of the servants as well. "I shall simply do what my aunt did."

After an introduction to the upper servants and any others that were available, Julian took Clementine to his aunt. He kissed her before they went into the room. "Was it bad?" he whispered.

She shook her head. "Not really." She had not yet had to reprimand them for mistakes. She hoped she never would. There were so many of them here and with such a history and experience that they might resent a newcomer's censure.

"Is it done?" Aunt Julia asked when they came in.

"It?" the duke wondered. He had expected another sort of greeting.

"It," his aunt said with an affirmative nod.

"I do not know to which specific matter you are referring," he said uncertainly. "But unless I overlooked something, I believe I handled everything." He had even got rings.

"Yes, I am sure you did, but are you married?"

He frowned, now wondering if she was perhaps teasing him. She knew he had set out to do so. "We are."

Aunt Julia offered them both congratulations and hugs that were surprisingly warm, considering her cool interrogation. The duke looked impatient with all of that. He wished to continue with a discussion of their guests.

Clementine was more pleased with the welcome. She wanted to feel accepted by the immediate family. It would make life so much more agreeable to be on good terms with the duchess. She would still have to look towards the older woman for advice. Her husband was not always a good source, certainly not on feminine topics.

"Did George leave, Aunt Julia?" Julian finally managed to ask.

"He did. I told him not to forget that he was leaving and he drew his own conclusions." She chuckled. "Perhaps he did not want to be humiliated in front of the guests."

He was glad for that. "Speaking of them, what do you propose I tell your guests?" He did not know whether any preparatory work had been done. Perhaps Aunt Julia had already been implying things to Lady Carson and Lady Iris. That would make it easier for him.

"That you were married?" The truth was simple.

"Perhaps I would rather not. They might both die of shock."

At this his aunt chuckled again. "You do not like congratulations and you do not like people dying. What do you like? Make it concise and simple, so that they understand immediately. I am sure you could decide for yourself whether you think apologies are in order. Could I have a word in private with your wife?"

Clementine felt worried, but her concerns were unfounded.

"Julian will turn out very well with some guidance," promised the duchess. Some female guidance was exactly what he needed.

"So will I, I hope."

"Do you need guidance?"

"I have needed some already. I was told to be more trusting. I would also need guidance on how to be a duchess." She wondered if it was impertinent or humble to say so.

"You must find your own style there, since you are not me, but I would, of course, assist you." It was a good sign that the girl was willing to be assisted. She would not take on airs.

"Thank you. That is very kind."

"Well, I must keep myself occupied, do I not?" the duchess said cheerfully. "My previous projects have all been completed."

Clementine was curious, but she dared not ask what those had been.

Nobody could have anything to say about his marriage, Julian told himself. His ability to accept Mrs. Black's warm congratulations without feeling embarrassed strengthened him and he approached Lady Carson and Lady Iris with more courage. "I hope you have been well in my absence," he said perfunctorily as some sort of introduction.

They assured him most profusely that they had, although it had been quite boring with him and Mr Lenton both gone.

"I was away to be married," he announced, as if this business had been akin to buying a new set of clothes.

"Married," Lady Iris echoed, realising with an acute pang his marriage could not have been to her because she had never been away.

"To Clementine," he said, avoiding the Miss or Mrs. issue. He supposed they would know who Clementine was. His other option was to say she was the mother of Julia.

"Married," Lady Iris said again. She was too surprised to manage any other sort of reaction. Her mother was equally dumbfounded and both stared up at him with uncomprehending expressions, as if this was the last thing they had ever expected to happen to him.

"Indeed," he said, finding the conversation grinding to a halt. He had never thought they could be as obtuse as this, for all of their transparent motives. "She is now the Duchess of Muncester." There, he had rubbed that in firmly.

Lady Carson was quicker than her daughter to realise what he was saying, but she also realised that she was in no position to question the duke about his choices. A few more moments separated her from offering her congratulations, however.

Lady Iris used these moments to catch up. "There is now a duchess," she remarked in wonder, forgetting about the old duchess.

"May I offer you my congratulations, Your Grace?" asked Lady Carson a bit sourly. "A very unexpected development."

"Thank you," was all he said. He had no wish to defend the unexpectedness or comment on it in any way.

"Er, yes," Iris said, belatedly finding her manners. "I wish you much happiness."

"Thank you," he said again and was off before they could question him.

"They were shocked," Julian said to his wife, who was changing Julia's clothes in the nursery. His aunt was surprisingly watching all of this.

"Perhaps they will soon leave then," Clementine murmured.

"They did not ask to pay their respects to the new duchess," he remarked, catching Julia. She had been running around naked, not wanting to sit on the pot for some reason.

"I doubt that they would want to do it here." She watched as he sat Julia on the pot and sat down on the floor in front of it. This was fascinating enough for Julia to remain seated -- for a few seconds. Then she hid under the bed.

Julian sighed. "Let her. Just a moment." He ran towards his own room and returned with his own pot. "Perhaps you can find something to do downstairs, ladies?" He perceived that Julia was still under the bed, peering out with chuckles and knowing full well she was not being a good girl.

"She thinks that an ugly pot. Why would she sit on it?" Clementine wondered what he was planning.

"Ugly pot!" Julia cried from under the bed.

"Ladies?" He wanted them out.

"You want to do this on your own, I see," said his aunt.

"Aunt Julia, you do not want to see this," he warned. "Go."

The ladies left as requested and they heard something heavy being placed in front of the door. "What ... ?" asked Clementine, half turning. It did not sound as if he was throwing Julia about, but it drew her attention nonetheless.

"A chair? A table?" Aunt Julia tried to imagine what furniture had been in the room. How difficult that was! It was always overlooked.

"Why?"

"I suppose he does not want anybody to come in. Now, let us do some business. Are your servants packing?" None of Clementine's possessions had been brought to the house in her absence. Aunt Julia supposed she was in need of them anyway, so they had best start arranging this now that the marriage was official.

"I do not think so."

"Then we must get them to start," the duchess decided. She rang the bell as soon as they reached the study.

"Julia..." Julian said, lying in front of the bed on his stomach. "What are you doing there? You have no clothes on."

She laughed at him. "I hide."

"Come out. I have a Papa for you."

Julia looked doubtful at this communication. "For me?" Anything for her was good.

"Do you want it?"

"Want!" What a stupid question. She wanted everything she could have.

"But you must come out. Come to me." He slid backwards, still on his stomach, hoping it would draw her out.

If there was a possible reward, Julia did not want to stay. She crawled out and sat up. "Give!" She stretched out her hands imperatively.

"I know you can speak better than that, Julia. Say: please give me a Papa?"

"No. Give!"

"No. Not if you do not speak like a big girl."

She considered his order. "I want it."

"I will be your Papa if you do what I say."

She considered that too. "Papa sleeps in my house."

"Well, this is your house now and my house as well, so I think that is right. You must always do what Papa says. If Papa says, sit on the pot, Julia sits on the pot."

Julia thought that was extremely funny. She laughed.

"You must not only laugh, but you must do it. Do you want to be a big girl? Do you want a kiss?"

She stood up and jumped towards him.

He held her at arms' length. "No. First you go on the pot." Julia was not interested in that, only in walking after him. Julian had thought that perhaps she would be more motivated to copy than to obey, which was why he had collected another chamber pot. He had tried the obeying option first, but it did not work yet. With a sigh he began to remove his clothes.

Julia had watched in fascination. "You have no clothes on," she observed shrewdly. "You sit on the ugly pot."

"That is fun," Julian said with all the enthusiasm he could feign. He cast a glance towards the door he had barricaded with a table. People should not come in while he was sitting here. That would be very undesirable indeed. "All big girls and big boys sit on pots."

She stepped forward and pointed her finger at one of his scratches on his side. "What is that?"

"I was hurt once."

Julia bent closer and kissed the spot. "Better! Stop crying."

He gave her a bemused look, since he was not crying. He supposed she was always soothed with those words, however, and in her mind they were connected very closely to being hurt. "Yes, thank you. Now sit on your pot."

She tried to wipe the small scar off him and frowned when it did not work. "Not better! More kisses."

"Julia!" he said warningly. "It will not go away. Sit on the pot. It is fun. It is for big girls."

She looked at him hesitantly, moved towards the pot and partly squatted over it, as if to test his patience. Very slowly she sunk down.

"You are indeed a little minx," Julian said under his breath. As small as she was, the art of playing games was something she seemed to have mastered already.

"You begin," she challenged him.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked in astonishment.

Chapter 32: Enjoying the Family

Julian was so proud of himself that he could not stop grinning. He took all the dirtier duties in stride. His plan had worked. After some games on Julia's side, she had assumed the right attitude and copied everything he did with very conspiratorial looks. She even tried to dress herself, but he still had to help her with that. It was good that he remembered what she was supposed to be wearing.

"You are a big girl," he praised. Her shoes proved a bit of a problem, because he could not get the laces tied on another person's foot, especially not a very small foot with a very small shoe. "No shoes. Come downstairs with me like this."

"I want my shoes," she insisted. "I am a big girl."

"True." He had told her that himself. "Shall I carry them and ask Mama to put them on?"

"Yes. Kiss me."

Julian lifted her up and kissed her. "Did you know, Julia, that only a Papa may do that? You must not ask other men for kisses."

"Papa is a kissy man."

"Only Papa. Do you understand?" He continued when he received a blank and innocent look. "And if I say something, Julia says yes, Papa or no, Papa."

"No, Papa."

"Very good, but then the other one." They went downstairs together. Julian was still grinning at his success. He did not mind very much that he was being contradicted.

"For some reason I think you succeeded," Aunt Julia commented, seeing his expression. She noticed that Julia looked dressed well enough to pass muster.

"I did, I did," he said with enormous satisfaction, setting Julia on the floor. "I know how to make people do what I want. But you must do Julia's shoes, Clementine. I am afraid I have not got that skill mastered yet."

"I am a big girl. I want my shoes," Julia agreed.

"There is not a team of cleaners at work in the nursery now, Julian?" asked his aunt.

"Hmph," he commented, watching Julia's shoes being put on and her clothing checked. "You must be underestimating me. I am rather good, I would say, but I shall not share my secrets."

"No need," said Clementine, straightening his neck cloth and fastening a button. She might be able to guess.

Soon after, they were informed that Mr and Mrs. Newman had come to see them. They were shown into the room with their two boys. Julia watched them in fascination, but she did not dare to approach them instantly.

"I came to see how much of the village gossip was true," said the steward.

"We are married," the duke answered. "I told you I was going to do that."

Mr Newman offered his congratulations and Mrs. Newman followed suit.

"But what else did they say in the village?" asked Clementine fearfully. "If they understood your cryptic message about the stationery at all, I am sure things were added."

"Indeed," Mr Newman said with a bow in her direction. "I came to tell you that there were."

"What were they?" She wrung her hands.

"Surely you do not care, Clementine?" her husband asked with a frown.

"I do not know yet. It depends on what it is -- and Mr Newman would never come all the way over here if it was nothing more than a good laugh."

"Some of it is worthy of a good laugh nevertheless. While Mr Potter has temporarily dispelled Mrs. Tompkins' notion that His Grace is accomplished enough to have managed to impregnate a woman ashore while being on a ship himself..." said Mr Newman.

"Oh," said His Grace involuntarily. "That seems quite complicated indeed. Perhaps only if the ship lay docked..." He lost himself in contemplation of that.

"It will only be a matter of time before Mrs. Tompkins' imagination places you on that ship with him," Mr Newman said to Clementine.

"No harm done," Julian responded. "I am certain I could outwit stupid inventions."

"How?" Clementine asked.

"I could have married you abroad in some marriage-like ceremony that would not suffice here. Two dances around a fire and we were wed." He liked that idea.

She looked astonished.

"But naturally one does not like to admit to having danced around a fire," he continued. "So that is why we were silent about it."

"Did you ever do this?" she wondered. He had invented that with such ease that perhaps he had witnessed such a scene at some point.

"I would have lived in sin rather than danced around a fire," he remarked. "And you know what I think of the former."

"And Julia? Where did she come from?"

He shrugged. "People cannot check what we did abroad."

"Julian..." Such a story was not going to work.

"Should you be inventing stories in our presence, Your Grace?" Mr Newman inquired, although he was rather amused at the imagination the duke was displaying.

"You already know the truth, Newman. I do not much care if you know the invention."

"I am not in favour of inventions," Clementine stressed. "Curious people will question me about the rituals of this tribe. And where it was!"

"But surely you only had eyes for your husband, Madam?" Mr Newman suggested. "You would not have noticed where you were."

She smiled. Perhaps she would have failed to notice anything else indeed. "But then they will ask him!"

"And he only had eyes for you."

"Indeed. I could not begin to remember what precisely I agreed to when I officially married you," the duke said with a nod. "I shall invent something more to my liking."

Clementine gave a sigh. She did not know whether inventing anything was a good plan. It sounded very bad to her, unless people were very simple and gullible. It could only make matters worse.

"I never implied I would really say this," he said reassuringly. He was only playing with the possibilities.

"It is the village. People have nothing better to do," said Mr Newman. "Until the next victim comes along. But you should be glad they never travel." He did not think gossip would travel very far beyond the village.

"I do not plan to travel either," said his employer. "Not for the next few years." He would stay at home and enjoy the company of his new family.

"It is very inconvenient with small children," Mr Newman agreed, supposing there might be a few more. As if on command, his youngest son began to whimper. "There you have it. They are always hungry."

Clementine accompanied Mrs. Newman to a room where she could sit in private with her baby. They left Julia and Thomas with the men. "I hope you are not too concerned about gossip," said Mrs. Newman. Although it had not always been pleasant, she had survived as well.

"As the duke said, we shall probably not travel. I have no friends elsewhere. I have not kept up any correspondence with anybody I used to know." She had often wondered if she should. "What could I have written? I prefer silence to a lie and they would not have understood the truth."

"His Grace prefers silence too," said Mrs. Newman. "I do not think he would ever talk to anybody in such a way as to put you at risk. My husband, on the other hand, hired me and directly went to the village to tell everybody what he had done and what he would be doing, assuming that if he said it first, people would not believe it." There was a faint smile, indicating that she did not resent her husband for that at all.

"But Mr Newman had been married before and he had knowledge of things that might occur if you lived in the same house. Julian..." Unfortunately Julian had not had much of a clue about talking to ladies in his dressing room.

"...is married now too, Your Grace."

"Clementine!" she said hurriedly. "You must call me that. But you are right. He is married too now and he is already wiser about such things. I am sure he could imagine some of what people might assume. But how did you know? When you lived in Mr Newman's house, I mean."

"He went over the situations with me," Mrs. Newman said with a snort. "Did I mention we had a very long interview? I only knew it would not be very proper to work for a widower, but I did not know why. I really needed a position, so I was willing to hear him out."

Clementine was fascinated. "He explained it to you?"

Mrs. Newman nodded. "He explained what wicked employers might do and why widowers were thought to be more at risk. He also explained why he believed widowers were in fact less dangerous."

"Less dangerous! But they would have no scruples! They have no wife!"

"Exactly! He said they were marriageable. If they start out by saying that, they cannot be so very bad, now can they? The only wicked thing about him is his sense of humour, Clementine. He explained it all honestly and left me the choice. Well, he gave me a day to recover from the shock..."

"I should think so!" Clementine uttered. "And after that day you decided to risk it? You did not think ill of him because he explained it, but you risked it?"

"I did. The worst things that might happen did not sound so very bad to me. That was," Mrs. Newman said, "the worst things that might have happened in Mr Newman's household, which he stressed would not be quite as bad as somewhere else."

"Did they happen? How could you believe him?"

"Nothing bad happened," Mrs. Newman said with an evasive smile, not saying why she had believed Mr Newman. "He talked to me. Sometimes I talked back."

"But not in his dressing room?" She wondered if she should have been able to avoid that herself. The Newmans might have managed. Perhaps she was not so very good.

"He does not have one. At some point I was granted access to any room at any time if I was in pursuit of Thomas, because suppose his father did not see Thomas and something happened because I remained outside with my eyes closed...and then after two times he thought it was quite useful to have me there to hear my opinion on something or other ... and then he asked if I minded giving it and I said no ... and then he said he would like to be able to ask me things also if Thomas was asleep ... but that his conscience forbade him right now because he had promised to me that he would not..."

"He sounds very honourable so far," Clementine had to admit. "And then you said..."

"...nothing, but he did not accept that. He said he would save me from silence, quite dramatically, so I had to smile. He asked if I would talk more if he was not my employer."

"Oh..." Clementine began to have her suspicions as to what Mr Newman had been talking about. Not her employer! But her husband?

"I said if he was a stranger I would talk less."

"I am sure he did not mean he was desperate for conversation, Anne." She frowned. "I mean, I am sure he was, but only for your conversation and more importantly, your opinions."

"I felt I was in no position to think such a thing. Then he began to talk about appointing me as an equal in the household, asking me how much I would talk then."

"You did not understand him here either?" she cried. The more honourable way of convincing a lady kept leading to misunderstandings, she noticed, because of all the shocking honesty that had to be avoided to spare the lady's delicate feelings. She compared it to Daniel's method and could not decide between the two. She supposed Mr Newman's initial explanations must have been rather honest as well and they had worked for Anne then. Communication was an odd thing. Perhaps she would not have understood it either and did she only understand it now because Anne was smiling at herself.

"Not yet. I said housekeepers would still have to take his orders, but perhaps they might be more impertinent than the governess. Then he asked me if I was ever unhappy, tired or sick of Thomas and I said no. And did I have any motherly feelings for him?"

"For Thomas?"

"Not for himself, no," Anne smiled. "I said I did not know how that felt, but then he asked if I would like it if another woman came into the house and mothered Thomas. I said I would simply have to accept such a thing, but he said there would never be such a woman. And then I ran away."

Chapter 33: Indirect Teasing

"You ran away," Clementine echoed. She had not expected such a twist, but perhaps the situation had not been as clear to her friend as it was to her now. "Pray tell me he came after you." Yet when she spoke the words, she could not visualise Mr Newman doing that. It seemed at odds with his indirectness and gentle persuasion somehow.

Mrs. Newman did not give an answer straight away. "Did His Grace come after you or did you not run?"

There had been two of them and she reviewed and compared their strategies. "His First Grace put the dishonourable suggestion before me in an honourable manner and I did not run. His Second Grace did the reverse."

"A dishonourable manner?"

"He was in a bed with nothing on. I suppose; I did not check under the covers. Perfection does not exist -- in proposals, not in men," Clementine clarified. "I would say he is pretty much a perfect man otherwise. Did Mr Newman come after you?"

"He did not."

"He did not?" she cried. "Why not?" Perhaps he had indeed persisted in indirectness.

"He waited for me to...say something."

"But of all things and of all people! You were not in the habit of speaking, least of all on such a subject, to your employer."

"Oh, indeed. After some reflection on either side, that was exactly what we concluded as well and I decided to talk and he decided to come after me..." Mrs. Newman smiled. "And we met in the middle. He did not want to force me to say yes when perhaps I would rather not."

"And it was sorted..."

"Indeed, but it takes a while to grow in and out of particular roles, so I would not say that shortly after we were wed I was already the same as I am now. I was perhaps still more like I was before then. For instance, I would still avoid going to the village, even though people could have less to say than before."

"Did you ever hear what they said?" Clementine asked.

"Yes, but not directly. I do not enjoy meeting new people, so I rarely went to the village. Perhaps this contributed to gossip as well. They did not know me. They know you. Perhaps that helps."

"Papa!" said Julia, wanting some attention. She pulled at his trousers.

Mr Newman looked much surprised at the appellation. "Am I to think you were so accomplished after all, Your Grace?"

Julian laughed. "I am quite accomplished, but not in that area! No, I have taught her to say this -- I think. One can never be certain whether she has listened or whether she is operating with an agenda of her own." He turned to Julia. "Yes, Julia? What do you want?"

"He must play with me." She pointed at Thomas.

"Well, go up to him and ask." He gave her a little pat on the back. "You are impertinent enough to handle your own business."

She took one step forward and spoke to the boy. "Play with me."

Mr Newman watched in fascination as they disappeared under a table. "I hope you do not object to such a friendship," he said.

"Certainly not if he plans to join the Navy, Newman."

"There would not be much time to sustain that friendship in that case. He would always be away and he would be corrupted on foreign shores."

"As I was," Julian nodded with a sarcastic grin.

"You were?"

"I mean I was not. If one wants to be corrupted, it could also happen at home. I am sure you plan to raise him well."

When little Charles had been fed, the Newmans returned home. The ladies had spoken about gossip and how to prevent it, but the gentlemen cared far less whether they were discussed by villagers and they had talked only about the estate and sport, interrupted by the occasional admonition to their children.

"Mother, I do not wish to stay here," Lady Iris complained. "It will be dreadfully tedious now and I would say it is an affront to have to pay our respects to the new duchess." The woman had been a nobody before and now she was suddenly a duchess. It was not at all to Iris' liking, even less so because she had succeeded with the duke where Iris had failed.

Lady Carson agreed, but she was more circumspect and would not readily admit such a thing outright. "Do you wish to return home then, Iris?" If that was her daughter's desire, all she could do was to accommodate it.

"Please, Mama. I do not want to stay." The duke's marriage had reduced her to a mere guest. She felt she had been more than that before. She was too good to be a mere guest.

"But my cousin..." Lady Carson tried to find a good reason to leave, not knowing their reasons would be abundantly clear.

"Please, Mama. You can think of something. I am sure of it. Shall I have my trunks packed?"

"But of course I understand," Aunt Julia murmured benevolently. "There is no need to excuse yourself, my dear cousin. I understand how Iris must be missing her dear friends terribly. Yes, you should go. We shall not be offended in the least."

"How convenient is that, Lavinia?" she asked when Lady Carson had gone to pack her trunks. They would not have to suffer those two guests another day. That was excellent. Their tempers would not have improved now that Julian was off the market. Why indeed should they still try to please their hostess?

"It does not come as much of a surprise," said Mrs. Black. "There is such a shocking lack of gentlemen in the house."

"I beg your pardon, Madam?" said Julian, who was just coming into the room. He overheard her last words and had no problems understanding to what they referred -- or to whom. He chose to misinterpret them, however. "I did not know you valued their company so highly. Should I invite a few to amuse you? You have only to ask me, you know."

Mrs. Black blushed at his question. "Not yet. You must wait until the guests have left, or else they will change their minds and stay!"

"But after that, do you have any particular wishes with regard to age, occupation and interests?" Both ladies were widows and he teased them a little. He was in a good mood and he had just received his mail.

"You will do no such thing!" Aunt Julia cried. "Lavinia! Stop it. He might take you seriously and invite a whole shipload."

"They would be too young for you on the whole," Julian remarked. "Some admirals might do, do you not think? They tend to be a little older."

"Julian!"

"Yes, Aunt Julia?"

She realised she could not stop him from inviting people, if he indeed wished to do so. She could, however, let him know which types she would avoid. "Pray do not turn this house into a club for retired sailors who smoke pipes."

"Aye aye! Only for those who do not smoke pipes. I understand." He bowed and walked out quickly.

"Something happened to him, Lavinia," said his aunt, shaking her head. "What a difference from when he first set foot ashore!"

Julian found Clementine in his dressing room. "You have not told me where I am to...dress," she said, getting up from the chair on which she had been sitting. "The clothes I had with me were taken in here, because the trunks bear your initials. I searched for them and found them here."

He smiled at her. "I suppose that gives you your answer. You could have your own wing, if you insist. The house is large enough. Where do people put their wives? I have no idea." It was something he had not given any thought. There had not been time for it to occur to him so far.

She observed him as he began to undress. "You do not seem to think I will insist." Indeed, he appeared to think she would stay here.

"You may want some space, but not an entire wing, I should think." He opened a door to their right. "Here, perhaps. I never understood what it was for."

"It is a sitting room." They had sat there during their first private conversation in his quarters.

"Yes, but why? There is a table in the bedroom as well. If I must retire and set myself apart, why should I have three rooms to choose from? Two would suffice."

"Perhaps if we argue and want to see as little of each other as possible..." Clementine did not know whether they might.

"Argue?" Julian tossed his coat onto the chair. He looked at Jones just coming into the room. "Jones! Have you already acquainted yourself with my wife's personal maid? You will be sharing this space with her."

"Sharing?" Jones looked rather panicky. "Do you mean to say we will have three females underfoot in here, Your Grace? How could I do my work adequately? And does Her Grace mean to dress here as well?"

"I have nowhere else to go," Her Grace said a little unhappily.

"Jones, you are not to care where Her Grace dresses," his master instructed. "However, I shall probably have the room next door fitted out to be a lady's dressing room."

Jones was relieved. "Indeed, Your Grace. All those gowns." And women, he added silently.

"But she will still come in here, Jones. I think shouting at each other is very ill-mannered. I find ladies are not at all frightening and you will find the same. Argue, indeed!" he added with a glance at Clementine. "If you dare, I shall toss you over the --" He stopped, realising that perhaps this was ill-mannered.

"I shall look forward to the experience," she said with a sweet smile, not knowing over what she would be tossed. "You will be gentle, will you not?"

"If it happens it will be most enjoyable, I assure you. Unfortunately I doubt that it will happen."

"Why?"

"I see no reason to argue with you."

Jones coughed when his master performed some duties of a lady's maid. It did not befit a duke to be thus employed. "Your Grace, did you not mention Her Grace had a personal maid?"

"You saw her at the seaside."

"Indeed, but do you not think she should work for her wages?"

"Admiral Henson wants to come over for a few days on his way to his married daughter," Julian said when he was escorting his wife down the stairs for dinner.

"An admiral? The one from London? One of my neighbours?" Clementine was a little taken aback by the idea. How would the admiral look upon her? He would have known what she was. He could not now come and visit and pretend he had never known.

"Yes, that one. You need not worry about him. He thought you were a very respectable young lady."

It was all relative and he would have been comparing her to ladies in similar positions, not to duchesses. "Not all of those may be elevated to duchess and still retain respect."

"He called you the shadow duchess." Julian believed the admiral was no fool. He would have noticed she was different from other such women in the neighbourhood. He did not know any himself, but perhaps the admiral might.

"The shadows will suit me just fine, I think..." She was not looking forward to stepping out.

"You did not always hide."

"But that is why they suit me now. What if someone sees I am the same woman as the one they sometimes saw at the theatre..."

"Would they know I am not the same duke?" he asked. "Perhaps not." After the long absence from town he had planned, people might no longer be certain of his looks. There was the matter of those deuced books that kept track of who ascended to which title, but he did not want to bother her with such concerns before he had investigated them.

"I realise you did not say the admiral was coming, but that he wants to come," Clementine said cautiously. "Does that mean he has not yet received an answer?"

"I am waiting for yours."

She was surprised and grateful for his kindness. "But he is an acquaintance of yours you could probably not slight."

"Oh," Julian said with a confident look. "I could slight any acquaintance for your sake."

Tears sprang into her eyes. "Then it shall be my pleasure to receive him here."

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