"I was twenty years old when the Duke hired me to care for his wife," Polly began slowly, her brow furrowed as she recalled the story that had begun many years ago. "I first met his Grace in Bristol, where he kindly employed me in the offices of his shipping company --I was in charge of paying the wages and the like to the sailors. A rough lot some of them were."
"I didn't think this was a retelling of your life story Polly," Olive snapped, trying to quell the guilt she felt at her rude behaviour. She tried to remind herself that Polly had lied to her, and had been paid to spy on her by her husband, and for a moment her rudeness felt justified.
"No need for that, your Grace," Polly replied mildly, unperturbed by Olive's uncharacteristically bad-tempered behaviour. "I was merely trying to illustrate why his Grace chose me as his wife's companion -- it was on account of the fact that I had experience dealing with hot-headed males on a day to day basis. The late Duchess had gone through a dozen companions before I came along."
Olive remained silent as she considered this; surely Catherine Ashford hadn't been so greatly disturbed that the Duke couldn't have found a proper lady to cope with her behaviour?
"When I arrived at Pemberton Hall," Polly continued, ignoring Olive's foot which was tapping with impatience, "Her Grace was in a bad way. Her Lady's maids had all left, due to all the violent outbursts, and I dare say she hadn't bathed in weeks. She was hard to deal with, screaming and raging one minute then as meek as a baby the next, but I persevered. I was used to difficult behaviour, what with looking after Emily all my life."
"Emily?"
Olive hadn't wanted to ask any questions, or protract their conversation any longer than was necessary, but her interest was piqued.
"My sister," Polly eyed her defiantly, "She is not, as some might say, the full shilling. Though that's all that some would get to say, if they spoke ill of her around me."
Polly wore an expression that Liv thought might be similar to the one a tigress might display if anybody threatened her cubs. The fierce love and protectiveness that Polly felt for her sister was evident, and Olive felt a stab of envy; she had always wanted a sister, and she wondered what it would be like to have someone as strong as Polly always there to protect her.
"Where was I?" Polly ran a distracted hand through her hair, as though to push away the feelings for her sister while she concentrated on her tale. "Oh yes; the late Duchess was in quite a state when I first arrived, but after a few weeks of tough-love, she was much better --and remained that way for quite some time, until Charles Birmingham returned."
Charles Birmingham, Liv knew, was the man that the Duke of Everleigh had killed in a duel, the man who had been his late wife's lover.
"Oh, he was a bad 'un," Polly scowled darkly, as she recalled the deceased man. "And her Grace, the moment she saw him, seemed to forget all the bad things that he had done to her before, and fell under his spell like that."
Polly clicked her fingers, to indicated just how quickly the late Duchess had been bewitched by Birmingham, but Liv ignored her, for something else had caught her attention.
"What do you mean, all the things he had done before?" she asked slowly.
Polly flushed, evidently that was part of the tale that she hadn't intended to mention. Seeing Liv's look of determination, however, she heaved a great sigh.
"I don't wish to speak ill of my late mistress," she whispered, glancing at the door to make sure that it was shut. "But Birmingham had seduced her and abandoned her, years ago, leaving her in a very difficult situation. It was why the Duke married her in the first place -- to save her reputation."
Liv gasped; she had not known this, and she couldn't imagine why a man of Everleigh's title and status would feel obliged to marry a woman pregnant with a child that was not his.
"He loved her," as though reading her thoughts, Polly spoke again. "Not love like romantic love in the poems, but in the way that I love Emily. They had been friends for all their childhood, and when she wrote to him to explain what had happened he arrived in St. Jarvis a few days after he'd received the letter, and they were married the next day. He simply wanted to protect her."
Protect her by giving her his name, Olive thought, shocked by the selflessness her husband had displayed. He had not cared for lineage or social gossip, he had simply wanted to save his friend from ridicule and scorn. This image of Ruan as a man who would give up everything to protect the people he loved was hard to marry with the obnoxious Duke she had wed, just a few short weeks ago.
"And the baby?"
"Born an angel," Polly whispered, "The Duke said that after she lost the little girl, Catherine spiraled into a complete depression, that only ended when I arrived. Can you imagine how hard it must have been for him, for I didn't land on the doorstep of Pemberton Hall until two years later."
Liv shook her head; she could not picture what Everleigh had done for those years, caring for a woman who was mad with grief. Other families, she knew, sent relatives to asylums --swept them under the carpet like they did not exist-- but Ruan had kept Catherine safely at home.
"Where was I?" Polly shook her head, attempting to focus for they had both deviated from the original plot of the tale. "Oh, yes. Mr Birmingham arrived back in St Jarvis, and almost overnight, her Grace was back to suffering violent mood swings. I did not know what was wrong with her for many months, and the Duke was away at sea. Then things began to disappear, her Grace's jewels, some of the silverware; small things at first, then gradually even the other servants began to comment on it, and I knew that I was not imagining things."
"Was it Birmingham?"
"Of course, who else? But for a while I think people suspected it was I, until Mrs Hogg, the housekeeper saw him sneaking in one evening."
"What happened then?" Liv asked curiously.
"Oh, all hell broke loose," Polly frowned, "I could not forbid her from seeing him, it wasn't my place, I was just a paid companion and she was a Duchess. Now that he had been spotted, he would call whenever he felt like it. For weeks and weeks he plagued her, writing love letters one day then initiating blazing rows the next. He held the threat of leaving again above her head like a guillotine. The poor woman was shaking from the moment she woke, to when she fell asleep. Then his Grace returned, and I informed him of what was happening..."
Polly trailed off, looking rather uncomfortable at the memory.
"And what happened then?" Liv prompted softly.
"Oh her Grace soon found out who had snitched on her," Polly was pale, her eyes focused on the wall and not Olive as she recalled what had happened. "She lunged at me, and began to choke me. I could not push her off, her fury was so great. If the Duke had not heard my screams, I would be dead. He pulled her off me, but even he struggled with her, and he's a big man, as you well know. Her Grace was sobbing, hysterical -- and then she confessed that she had given Birmingham a vast sum of money, for him to purchase a home for the pair of them, but he had disappeared again. Imagine, the poor thing believed the lying swine, even after all he'd done to her."
Olive saw genuine pity for her mistress in Polly's eyes, despite the woman having nearly killed her. The rest of the story Liv half knew already; the Duke had found Birmingham in a tavern in Bristol, and challenged him to a duel. The ton had all thought it was because Everleigh was jealous of the man, but it had all been revenge for what he had done to his wife.
"News reached Pemberton Hall, that the Duke had shot Birmingham dead," Polly continued, "And I cannot say that I was sorry. I tried to keep it from her Grace, but somehow she found out. It must have been from a stable boy, or one of the lower maids, for they were nervous of her position and didn't understand that she was to be lied to if necessary."
"And how did her Grace take the news?" Olive asked, already knowing the answer to her question.
"Not well, not well at all."
Polly stood up, and began pacing the length of the drawing room. She was visibly agitated and as she glanced at Liv, her eyes were misty with tears.
"I must ask you to promise that you will take this next piece of information to your grave," Polly said solemnly, and wide-eyed Olive nodded her agreement.
"Her Grace did not take the news well, as you can imagine. She wept and raged the whole day long, finally she fell asleep, but I was so worried for her that I slept in her bedchamber on a chair. I must have dozed off, for the next thing I knew I was woken by the sound of the door slamming shut. I raced after her, but I was too late. I rushed out into the hallway, and she was climbing over the banisters on the landing, but I was too far away to pull her back. I saw her jump, Olive, it was an awful sight to witness."
Olive paled; she could well imagine the horror that had filled poor Polly as she watched her mistress jump to her death.
"She landed on the marble tiles of the entrance hall," Polly winced, as though remembering the sound. "I knew that she was dead the moment that I reached her. Mrs Hogg, who had been closing up the house for the night, witnessed the whole thing too. We were in an awful state, we didn't know what to do and then the Duke arrived home, just moments after she had leapt."
"But he said he was there?" Olive interrupted, her brow furrowed with thought. "I read it in the papers, he said that he saw his wife trip and fall down the stairs."
"No one would question the word of a Duke," Polly shrugged, "That was what he told us. He wanted to give Catherine a proper burial in a graveyard; he wanted to protect her from cruel gossip even in death."
Olive was silent as she absorbed this. Ruan had not been present when his wife had died, and yet had claimed to be so in order to preserve her honour; the Church would not bury a suicide on Holy ground. He must have known that after the incident with Birmingham that people might suspect him of having a hand in Catherine's death, and yet he had gone ahead with his plan. The Duke of Ruin had ruined his own reputation, to preserve Catherine Ashford's. The irony was not lost on Olive, who gave Polly a wan smile.
"I can see that I was wrong about his Grace," she said, and the other woman's shoulders visibly sagged with relief. "I shall not tell a soul what you have told me Polly, I swear it."
"Not even the Duke?"
"Would he not want me to know?"
Polly snorted with amusement; "His Grace is a good man, but even I'd be the first to admit that he's pig-headed and stubborn about letting people know he's got a soft side."
"Even his wife?" Olive wondered aloud.
"Is that what you are?"
Olive let the loaded question linger in the air unanswered. After what she had heard, she knew that the Duke of Everleigh was not a bad man --but did that mean that she wanted to be his Duchess?