My Captive Duchess (The Reeves of Reeves Hall #1)

Chapter 31

Jane

I set down my knife and fork, replete after my fine meal. Broek is on his feet, about to assist me to mine, when the dining room door is wrenched open forcefully and a red-faced Wolkan rushes in, garbled words pouring forth from his mouth.

Sadly, I have yet to learn the Uvonian language, though I promise myself that I shall set to that task at the first opportunity, for in this instant, I very much wish that I could understand what is being said. Everyone in the room freezes in shock, followed by urgent action as they hurry out of the room. Broek answers my befuddled stare with a quickly thrown remark, “A communication has come from Uvon.” Then he too is heading out of the room. Determined not to miss out on whatever news this brings, I follow at his heels, not an easy task with the differences in our gaits. I arrive in the family parlour, huffing slightly at the exertion.

As I enter the room, I remember briefly the passionate happenings that occurred here a day ago, but this memory is soon dispelled as I take in nearly the entire household gathered tensely in anticipation of reading this communication. I wait for a letter to be proffered and for Broek to read it out loud to his flock. But that is not what happens. Of course, I should have known that the Uvonians, with their superior scientific knowledge, disdain the paper missive in favour of vision and sound on the screen.

Soon after our arrival, the large screen on the wall comes alive, and I see a lady address us in their language. She is dressed peculiarly, in a bodice that dips deep into her cleavage. The satiny fabric of her gown, a rusty shade of bronze, flares loosely down her hips to gather at the ankles, almost like billowing pantalettes. She is not young, though her creamy skin is flawless and free of any wrinkles. It is the eyes that betray her age, beautiful but knowing eyes of deep sea green fringed with long lashes. Her hair, a burnished golden red, is gathered in an intricate knot over her head, flowing wisps artfully set free from that knot. Her voice, as she begins to speak, is mellifluous and hauntingly compelling. I am captivated by her. Who could this lady be?

My eyes fly to Broek, and I see him stand to stiff attention, fists balled tightly at his side. Could it be? No! But it must be. The frozen grimace on his face is explanation enough. Yes, it is her. Tarla. I turn back to the screen and listen to her speak, not understanding the words but aware of their import. Her speech over, the screen dims and all of a sudden, there is commotion, voices speaking one over the other in their tongue, and the palpable sense of something momentous taking place. Gav’ox, one of the guards here, has his hands clasped together in febrile excitement. What is this news that Tarla has just imparted?

Through it all, my eyes stay fixed on Broek, who has not moved nor said a word. I want to go to him, but the rigidity of his stance does not invite my touch. Then, before my eyes, I see him take charge of the situation. In a booming voice, he silences the crowd, addressing them with short, sharp words. A moment later, he stalks out of the room, a pandemonium of voices breaking out at his departure. People talk excitedly among themselves. Some are embracing, tears of emotion running down their cheeks. Nobody notices me nor cares to enlighten me as to what has happened.

Finally, I see Liora, a look of awe on her countenance, begin to make her way to the door. I go to her quick and touch her arm. “Tell me please,” I beg. “What is it?”

She casts me a surprised glance, as if only now recalling my presence. Her voice tight with emotion, she murmurs, “An official pardon has been granted to us all. We may return to Uvon should we wish. The ship arrives for us tomorrow.” With this, she nods mistily at me and leaves the room. Others follow suit, a loudly chattering exodus. I am left alone in the parlour to gather my thoughts. So, the Reeves clan will be returning to their homeland on a ship that arrives tomorrow. I wonder how it has sent a communication to us here when it is still out at sea, then I wonder no more. If Broek has nanoprobes that can fly to all parts of the world, then surely the advanced civilisation of Uvon has its own speedy methods of communication too.

Will this ship dock at Newquay? Not if it wishes to keep its presence a secret. Most probably it will keep its distance out at sea, perhaps sending a contingent here in small boats in the darkness of night like smugglers do. Soon after, the people here will want to leave Reeves Hall and return at long last to their true home. I am sure they are already busy packing their belongings. And as for me? I look down at my hands to find that they are shaking. What can this mean for me? I do not know. Will Broek take me with him to his homeland as his bride or will he leave me behind in the knowledge that our two worlds cannot meet? Would I even have the courage to leave these shores to live in a faraway land among a people whose way of life is so very different to mine and who speak in a tongue I cannot fathom? It is too much to contemplate.

I bury my face in my hands and try to calm my anxious heart. I pray for patience and fortitude. All will be revealed in due course. I am sure Broek will find me once he knows his mind. He has a great many things to occupy him at present, and I must wait patiently. I must also prepare myself for the worst. Should he decide it is best to break our engagement and leave without me to return to his homeland, then I shall not cry nor burden him with my heartbreak. I am pulled back once more to that feeling of old, the one where I am alone and not assured of my place. The sense of belonging I felt earlier with Broek was merely a fanciful delusion. I know it now, and I am also familiar with what to do when I find myself in troubled waters. I make the best of things. I swim in the direction of the shore with resolution in every stroke.

With this last thought, I get to my feet briskly and take a deep breath. There is no point now in journeying to Newquay to purchase a wedding gown for a ceremony that may not take place. Instead, I seek out Chloe. I find her with Betsy.

“Have you heard the news, Your Grace?” she asks unable to suppress her excitement. When I nod, she continues animatedly, “Velnas has told me all about Uvon. It is a wonderful place full of scientific contraptions even better than the ones here at Reeves Hall.” She clasps her heart, happiness shining from her eyes. “Velnas wants to take me there. He says we can seal our union and have it blessed the Uvonian way—it is their form of marriage!”

No doubts there as to her future, I think sourly. I am envious. Velnas was quick to clear up any uncertainty she may have felt. Together they will go. As for me—limbo awaits until Broek deigns to remember my presence.

As I try to distract and calm my excitable daughter who has sensed the frenzy in the air and is fairly bursting with it, I decide to go and find him. He must be in his subterranean room. Leaving Chloe in Betsy’s capable hands, I take the stairs down to the basement and present my face to the red beam that alerts Broek to my presence. Then I wait, and wait some more. The door does not open. Reluctantly, I step back and retrace my steps upstairs. Broek, it seems, is not ready to speak to me.

In my chamber, I pace back and forth in frustration and worry. I decide there is nothing for it but to go for a ride until my mind is clearer. I am free to do so now, after all. And they will not want me here. I take my cloak and charge back down the stairs, then without waiting for a guard or for any permission whatsoever, I step outside the house in the direction of the stable. It is deserted, apart from the horses quietly shuffling in their stalls. Quickly, I set about releasing Daisy and attaching a saddle to her back. It is not an easy task, but I am a resourceful person. Soon, I have her ready. I lead her to the mounting block and hop up into the saddle. Then, I guide her out towards the front gate.

There, I am met with a young guard whose name I do not recall. He casts a wary glance at me then taps the communicating device on his ring. I hear him speak in his tongue and Broek’s curt reply. A moment later, the young man nods and opens the gates for me. Broek has kept to his word, and I am free to go. I leave the gates of Reeves Hall and set towards the village of Penhale, gathering speed and letting the wind whip at my cheeks a I lead Daisy into a gallop. I have no clear objective for this journey other than to ride free and rid myself of the nervous tension in my being. Much better this than waiting anxiously in my chamber for Broek’s pronouncement. The longer his silence, the more I suspect he is preparing to leave me.

I soon reach the village and slow down to a decorous trot. Though I have money in my reticule, there is not anything I require from the few shops here. My material needs are more than adequately met at Reeves Hall—though for how much longer I do not care to think. Despite my continued nerves, I consider going back. Perhaps Broek will speak to me now. It is then my eyes land on the spire of the village church. If there were any time when spiritual guidance was needed, then that time is now. With a gentle pull of the reins, I guide Daisy towards the church and dismount, securing her to a nearby post beside a water trough. Then, I walk inside.

It has been over a month since I was last here. As I enter, my nose catches the faint scent of incense. The large hall is empty and silent, a candle burning at the altar. I step forward softly. In the quietude of this space I sense an almost tangible peacefulness. Tears prick at my eyes.

I go to a pew and kneel, pressing my hands together in prayer. Head bowed, I silently pray. Oh Great Lord, what am I to do? If Broek deserts me, where am I to go? What is the path that will lead to a secure and content existence? And if Broek desires me to accompany him to Uvon, should I go? Great Lord, give me the strength to do what is right for all of us .

So many supplications pour forth from my splintered soul. I do not know how long I stay thus, but finally, when my prayers are exhausted, I rise to my feet. As I begin to walk up the aisle, I notice a man sitting at a pew a few rows behind, observing me. It is Reverend Edmund Horton. He stands as I approach. “Your Grace,” he says gently. “It has been many weeks since we last saw you in Penhale. I was told you had returned to Somerset.”

“Yes, I had plans to do so,” I say, my mind working quickly to formulate an appropriate response.

He raises an enquiring brow. “And yet here you have remained. At Penhale Manor?”

I shake my head and decide to give a version as close to the truth as possible. “My daughter had an accident and I was obliged to stay with her at Reeves Hall. As you may know, Mr Harry Reeves has a great skill in healing. He has been tending to her.”

The reverend’s face falls. “Your Grace, I did not know. How dreadful! Is your daughter recovered?”

I give a small smile. “Yes, she is well now, Lord be thanked.”

“Indeed, Lord be thanked. And will Your Grace be leaving once more for Somerset?” enquires the reverend.

“I—I do not believe so.” At his frown, I elucidate. “The cottage I had hoped to purchase in the town of Frome has gone to another buyer, due to the delay in my arrival. In the meantime, Mr Brook Reeves has kindly agreed to let me have the tenancy of Penhale Manor. As you can see, reverend, the kindness and generosity of the Reeves family abounds.”

He smiles sagely. “I do not know the family well, for they keep to themselves, but what I have seen of them chimes with what Your Grace says.” He pauses. “Please forgive me, but was there something else, some other trouble, that brought you here today? If so, perhaps you may wish to speak of it with me.” He smiles kindly as he says this.

Of course, the perspicacious vicar has observed my distress, but I cannot tell him all. I look down at the polished floor. “I have been left in difficult circumstances, reverend,” I murmur. “Not only am I a widow with a young child to care for, but I am also an orphan, and the only family I have left—an uncle and aunt—have been less than kind towards me. I am fortunate to have sufficient funds to live comfortably, and for that I am immensely grateful, yet my future lies uncertain.”

Reverend Horton nods thoughtfully. “These are difficult circumstances, Your Grace, and you were right to seek sustenance from the good Lord. It is at those times when we feel forsaken and alone that we must remember Jesus’s eternal love shines for us bright and strong. Keep with the prayers, Your Grace, and trust that in time, the future you fear will become less uncertain. And of course, I am here, should you wish a sympathetic ear.”

“Thank you, reverend. It is very kind.”

“Not at all, Your Grace. It is what I am here for.”

I nod and make a curtsy. “Good day, reverend.”

“Good day, Your Grace.”

In a calmer mood, though anxiety still gnaws at me, I return to my horse and set on my journey back to Reeves Hall. I am let through the gates and ride towards the stable. There, I am met by Galok, who assists me to dismount and takes Daisy in to rub her down. As I walk to the house, my stomach gurgles and it is only now I realise that I have missed luncheon—though perhaps, with the great commotion of packing for the upcoming journey, there was not time for anyone to stop for a meal. I let myself in through the servants’ entrance at the back of the house and look in on the kitchen, hoping to forage for something to eat.

There, I find Velnas, stirring a pot of meat stew. A delicious smelling pie bakes in the glass oven, firing up my hunger. He turns to me and exclaims, “Ah, you are back! Dinner will not be served for a few hours, but perhaps I can cut Your Grace a slice of meat pie?”

I shake my head. “No, Velnas. I simply need something I can take to my chamber.”

He quickly goes to do my bidding, handing me slices of bread and cheese wrapped in a linen napkin. I thank him and take myself up to my chamber, where I wolf down the snack and refresh myself in the washroom. I look in on Broek’s chamber, but it is deserted. With a sigh, I head back down the stairs in search of Chloe, who I find in the play room with Betsy and the other two young children she has befriended. I stay with them until it is teatime for Chloe, all the while telling myself that I have the faith and fortitude to face whatever lies before me. Why won’t Broek talk to me? Is it because he is preparing to leave me, and won’t say it to my face?

I leave Chloe with Betsy to eat her meal and return to my chamber. There is still an hour to go until dinner, and there is one thing that always seems to melt away my cares—a hot bath. I start filling the tub and undress. A short time later, I lower my body into the fragrant heat of the water and sigh with relief. Whatever happens, I shall be strong. My heart can take this, even though it will feel pain. For here, in the solitude of the washroom, I can confess to myself the truth. I have fallen in love with Broek Reeves.

I close my eyes, then open them again as the man that has captured my heart walks into the washroom. Grim-faced, Broek stares at me for an eternity, then gruffly declares, “Jane, we need to talk.”