Page 58 of The Scandal of the Deceived Duchess
“Rubbish. He is a traitor. He fights for them…for the Americans against the British,” said Mother, stubborn to the last. “How could you ever want to be with such a man? And an American?”
It was no use. Amelia knew that her mother had absolutely no idea what was happening in the world. Whenever Father mentioned current affairs at the breakfast, lunch or dinner table, she would immediately reprimand him for speaking of such uncouth things during mealtimes. It was just her way. All that mattered to her was high society and what happened between the main players therein. Lord Templeton French had been her key to the highest echelons of that exalted creed and now that avenue of advancement was gone.
“Mother let’s change the subject. All you need to know is that I love Jonathan. He could be a Red Indian tribesman for all I care…”
Mother was no longer listening. “Tis the Duchess of Waverly…oh, how lovely. We had the most delightful conversation the other week about what flowers to put on the dinner table so that one might add an autumn note to the evening’s banquet. She had some fascinating ideas concerning the use of leaves that had already changed their color and how to arrange them so that they look pretty.”
Lady Felicity’s entire demeanor morphed from the glum into a state that bordered on rapture. The change was miraculous. The complexion on her face lit up in conjuncture with the change in her disposition. If it weren’t for the laws of physics, she would launch into flight and never come down.
Amelia followed her mother’s vulturine gaze that would’ve been better suited for some gluttonous birdie. It was wholly reserved for an elegant lady dressed in the most radiant maroon walking dress with a matching coat and corresponding fur neckline. She glided toward them with a coterie of other ladies attired in equally splendid garments. The main lady was in mid-conversation with one of her toadies. She did not notice Amelia and her mother standing by the wayside of the park lane, looking at them.
“Oh, how lovely to see you, your Grace. I was just telling my daughter about the marvelous ideas you had concerning the decoration of an autumn table.” Amelia’s mother flitted forward happily. She behaved as if she was about to greet her closest friend.
The Duchess of Waverly looked up briefly. However, her gaze swayed in mid-air, not once meeting Amelia’s mother’s regard, it remained there for a moment until she looked away – it was as if Amelia and her mother were invisible to the eye. The duchess’s naturally sharp features and penetrating blue eyes projected her conceited demeanor all the more. She whispered a few words to the gaggle of women in her presence and they quickly flitted past without looking in Amelia’s or her mother’s direction. The gaggle of geese couldn’t get away quick enough.
It was a ‘cut direct’ if there ever was one. It was a deliberate act on the duchess’s part, signaling the cutting of all bonds of relationship between the two parties involved. It was a highly risky thing to do, especially when done in public. Generally, it was frowned upon and was very embarrassing for those present to witness such a thing. However, in this case, the duchess was with her close confidants from whom she would most certainly receive full support, no matter how uncomfortable the situation had been.
It was what Amelia and her mother had dreaded all along. The cat was out of the bag. Lord Templeton French had been gossiping at balls, at his club or anywhere else where polite society coalesced. By now, Amelia would be considered a breaker of oaths and a harlot for having accepted another man’s proposal of marriage and breaking the one already in place with the duke’s son. It was considered the most dishonorable thing to do.
“Amelia, let us go home. I have never been so humiliated in my life,” said Mother, looking at least ten years older. “I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive you for putting me in this position. I have lost everything that I have worked so hard for.”
Anna and Amelia exchanged glances. Anna could’ve killed Lady Felicity Carlyle, 1st Baronet of Windom, for treating her daughter so. In essence, it was Amelia with the bad name, but the ship sank with all souls aboard – her family would go down with her. Amelia patted Anna on the shoulder. “Don’t be too harsh on her; this could very well be the worst day of her life,” whispered Amelia. Anna rolled her eyes disbelievingly. It always astounded her how understanding Amelia could be.
Amelia looked at her mother who was on the verge of tears. It would not be long before they came pouring out and started streaming down her cheeks. “Mother, we best get you home as soon as possible.”
Mother nodded meekly. Amelia had never seen her like this before. But, in a way, she could understand her. Contrary to Amelia, she placed so much emphasis on social standing. It was her life. Everything was ruined now. The duchess was one thing, but the other women in the group constituted the pinnacle of society. Naturally, there were more women of note, but those aforementioned ladies decided almost everything in terms of who would be invited to events, who was worth keeping an eye on, and ultimately who would be discarded as disreputable.
As it turned out, the Carlyle family was finished. Well, at least until one of the noble bunch needed a loan from Papa. This was something that occurred rather often because of the near addictive gambling habits of the upper classes. They had no choice as working was frowned upon. That only left them with gambling, hunting, frequenting clubs, drunken debauchery and the other useless pastimes that brought no intrinsic happiness to many of them.
Anna and Amelia rushed Mother through the park in the direction of the West End and home as if she were an invalid. As if the clouds sensed her sadness, the various strands of cumulus in the sky had in the meantime become as one. The first drop of rain landed on the ground the moment the trio reached the front door. It would be a rainy night, thought Amelia.
Chapter 29
The Surprise Rendezvous
London, England, October 1814
“So, how wasyerday, old friend?” asked Jake, entering the drawing room. His mood was chipper. Ever since his reunion with Anna, it had been soaring. Nothing could bring him down.
Jonathan looked up from the paper he was reading. He shrugged. “The same as usual. I got some shooting practice done and did a little work.”
“Work! What kind of work?” asked Jake, intrigued.
“Well, I was looking at ways to improve the profitability of the plantation.” Jonathan was still studying the paper where he had made some notes.
“And didyehave any brilliant ideas?” Jake lowered himself down in the armchair where he usually sat.
Jonathan seemed very pleased with himself. Despite the fact that the duel was in two days time, his mood was good. “As you know growing tobacco is very heavy on the soil. We’re lucky to get up to five cycles of growth from any one field. It’s labor intensive as well. If we keep harvesting tobacco, it won’t be that long until the fields go barren and we won’t be able to grow anything there anymore. It would be the end of Fair Weather Heaths’ as we know it.”
Jake nodded. “I see.Yehave a point.” It amazed him that his friend could be worrying about such things when in two days time his life would be on the line. However, at the same time, he also recognized theTritoncaptain in him: fearless and resolute when it came to his goals. “What doyehave in mind?”
“Well, as far as I see it we have two options. We do what we know and stick to the sea…”
“Yemean rejoin the navy when we get back?” Jake looked worried.
Jonathan laughed. His humor had improved a great deal since he could correspond with Amelia. “Don’t worry; I wouldn’t ask you to travel by sea for months on end with me.”
“Yeknow I’d go withyethough…to the ends of the earth if need be.”
