Jemma’s Version
Maybe it’s not really that boring. Considering Lance, the other staff and the horses, I could say that there’s intelligent life at Denby Hall.
I was so bored before that I spent most of my time in my room, watching cooking programmes and tv series reruns.
If nothing else, I had a lovely ride today, and I found something to do in the future. When anyone, either Delphina or Ashford, bores me to death, I’ll go to the stables, take a horse and disappear into the woods for a few hours.
However, I’m not happy. My parents are totally bonkers and live in a limbo between the seventies and the eighties, but they are the best and most generous people in the world, and I miss them so much.
Delphina is as motherly as a praying mantis, and Ashford avoids her like the plague, except on the not-so-rare occasions when he throws her at me as a battering ram just to annoy me.
Riding Poppy reminded me of when, as a little girl, I followed my parents in all their crazy activities. They were my heroes. Animal therapists, can you imagine that?
Strange people like me, who grow up even more strangely, struggle to find friends; over the years, all my friends came and went rather quickly and almost nobody left a mark. Not least, Sarah. For as long as we worked together at the theatre, we were inseparable, but since she left for New York, it’s as if she has vanished. I phoned her a few times at first, but she was always in a hurry, she said she would call me back but she never did. All in all, I have many acquaintances in London, but no true friends. This is the price you pay when you’re strange, as Jim Morrison said in People Are Strange. Here, behind the thick stone walls of Denby, I miss my crazy parents very much.
I curl up on an upholstered bench in the bay window to admire the view and try to banish my melancholy.
When I hear knocking on the door, my discomfort increases: I don’t want to be scolded by Ashford, or judged by Delphina. Reluctantly, I give permission to enter.
Thank God, it’s Lance.
“I have come to ask if the duchess has any particular requests for dinner.”
“She’s not here. She must be in the conservatory torturing her begonias,” I reply.
Lance clears his throat and approaches me. “Would you allow me to say something?”
“Sure.”
“When the staff and I mention the duchess, we are referring to you,” he says, indicating me.
I raise an eyebrow sceptically.
“To clarify: the Duchess of Burlingham is the woman who is married to the Duke of Burlingham. Lady Delphina was married to the late Lord Henry Parker and, when he died, his only child, Ashford Parker, inherited the title and became the new Duke of Burlingham. Therefore, as his wife, you are Your Grace the duchess, Lady Jemma. The one and only, I dare say.”
“One and only? What about Delphina?” I ask, incredulously.
“As Lord Henry is no longer with us, she’s merely Lady Delphina Parker or, more formally, the widowed duchess.”
“So,” I ask for further confirmation, “I’m the one and only Duchess of Burlingham, am I?”
“Exactly.”
“And I’m the fully fledged owner of this house?”
“It comes with it, yes.”
I stop Lance before he can leave the room. “Lance, it’s obvious that you didn’t come to have dinner requests from me. Why did you come here?”
“Your Grace, the ambiguity that lingers in this house must end. The staff are under a great deal of stress, and don’t know whether to answer to Lady Delphina or to the new duchess, who, evidently, has not been informed of the importance of her position. It’s a matter of order and, as the butler, it is my duty to maintain it.”
So saying, he bows and goes out.
I am the duchess. The one and only. Delphina is merely a widowed duchess. Very well, I’m starting to have some ideas.