Before you come out with pitchforks and knives for not updating, let me just say that the last month had been a complete nightmare for me. They say misery never comes alone and in my case, it arrived with food poisoning then chicken pox and now the sodding flu. My nose is stuffed, I am sneezing so violently that I feel like my nose is gonna fall off, my face is peppered with spots that don't look like they are going to go away soon, and I can't even write a word properly to save my life. So, there it is.
Let me know how you all feel about this one. Love you all, and special love to my beta, Ray, she is amazing!
"Don't lean too far, my lady, or, you will fall into the rosebushes. And I'm sure I need not remind you what occurred yesterday," Peggy said with trepidation as her hands moved instinctively to stitch a chain of daisies in the hem of her nightgown.
With a grimace from the reprimand, Hermione Malfoy, the eleventh duchess of the Wiltshire, pulled herself from the window from where she was leaning out precariously. She could clearly remember the debacle following the episode of her falling into the said rosebushes and the mortification that ensued after. An honest mistake. She had all but misjudged the distance from the path the bushes. It had never been her intention to nose dive into them.
Feeling suffocated from being cooped up in the same room she had thought of taking an invigorating stroll around the garden, but who knew three petticoats, a hoop skirt, and a feline on the healthier side with a complete disregard for her walking space would be so difficult to manage. And the next thing she knew she had taken a head-first dive into the dowager duchess's prized rosebushes, legs up in the air, skirts askew for the whole world to see her unmentionables and the poor bonnet crushed somewhere underneath her. Fortunately, Winston had been present there and like a godsend he had picked her up before the help could get an eyeful of their new duchess, a blush had stained her cheeks then as vigorously as it was now from just recalling the horror . So, yes that was yesterday. Hermione didn't even want to think about the valuable vase she had nearly knocked, or the poor unsuspecting footman she had stepped onto who in turn had fallen on two scullery maids, or the time she had knocked the wine glass painting the tablecloth red. It really wasn't her fault. It was a new place to learn to navigate, one with significantly more breakables and polished floors. And yet, it was, even the maids had begun to be wary around her.
She was never this clumsy before. Yes, sure she knocked into chairs and slipped on seemingly flat surfaces but never of this frequency and never causing as much damage as this.
Coming back to the present Hermione sighed and plopped herself on the bed as its softness swallowed her and realized something, she was bored, completely and utterly bored out of her mind. Back at home, she had hundred and one things to do before the sun went down. Every day a mountain of errands was waiting to be done before she could even sit down and enjoy a cup of tea, but here no one even allowed her to even raise her finger. Before she could even put forth a request the things were done. Truth to be told this much indolence was wrecking a havoc to her constitution. And she hadn't even completed a week of her new and which was slowly turning into a rather protracted married life.
Hermione turned to her side and eyed the books laying on the table and the one currently open with its pages waving lazily from the slight draft coming from the open window with a slight disgust as it described the plethora of fungi dotting the far and wide land of Scotland.
Don't get her wrong, Hermione loved books, loved the ways they opened up a whole new world for her to explore. She loved the crispness of pages under her fingers, their weight in her hands, and the memories they brought with them. She loved to read, right from Greek odysseys to poems by some tipsy Italian men adoring women; about arithmetics to science and its unbelievable vagaries. She even loved to read those grisly medical volumes from far off lands like China and India while waiting up for Mr. Snape, their village potioneer, to whip the potion for John's joint pains. But fungus, Hermione would like to draw a line at reading about fungus.
She could always go up to the cavernous library that the manor boasted and read up to her heart's content but like the coward she was, her feet and heart both had seized up when Winston had dutifully shown her the library during the perfunctory tour of the manor. As her eyes fell upon the rows and rows of books lined till the ceiling and as the familiar slightly musty smell of book hit her nose, her head dragged up other smells from her memories. The pungency of gunpowder, the metallic smell of freshly spilled blood, and burnt flesh. Embracing the weakling she was she had sputtered some nonsense about sewing and ran like her life depended on it, leaving a flabbergasted Winston in her wake and the funny thing was she didn't even sew.
She had later sent her lady's maid, Peggy to procure some books and the poor dear had returned with the one about fungi. Then next day it had been about cows and so on. The sweet girl who didn't know how to read had grabbed the ones whose cover had looked good to her and Hermione didn't have in her heart to say no to her earnest and ecstatic face. So until she taught Peggy her letters she would have to do with such books.
A slight scratch at the door made her sit up in attention. Peggy kept aside the dress she was sewing and opened the door for Winston to enter. With a bow that Hermione wasn't yet comfortable to accept the old man forwarded an ornate plate with a letter atop it.
The parchment was heavy and smooth in her hand, Hermione looked up to see Winston was waiting for an answer. With a slight comprehension, she opened the wax seal depicting an intricately designed 'M' and nestled inside the envelope was a letter with just two lines.
Esteemed Duchess of Wiltshire
I would like to request upon your company during today's luncheon.
Do attire properly for the event and kindly send your agreement through Winston.
Draco Malfoy,
Eleventh Duke of Wiltshire.
Now he wishes to have lunch with her!
Hermione had this sudden urge to chuck the darn letter through the windows into those appalling rosebushes. The last time she had seen the esteemed Duke was during the dinner on their first night. With a wince, she remembered how fear and apprehension regarding the first night had made her drink more than what she could handle. She wasn't sloshed, maybe perhaps a bit tipsy.
From what she had gathered from hushed whispers amidst giggles and coy looks was that men particularly don't care much about the women regarding the marriage bed. They take what was there's. She had prepared herself that the duke would do the deed and be done with it so that she wouldn't have to see him till her monthlies came. She had waited that night with an anxiousness that was completely foreign to her, but the wine and fatigue from the day had been too much for her, for she had fallen asleep. The next day she woke up in her bed with no idea how she came there to be, thinking perhaps she had made the switch from the chair to bed amidst the sluggishness of sleep during the night.
For some time the weight weighing her down had lightened as it dawned on her that the duke hadn't taken advantage of her tipsiness. And mayhap the one month in the manor wouldn't be as dire as she had imagined. She had waited with restlessness the next night, her eyes repeatedly going to the knob of the connecting door, waiting for a wiggle or a push. But nothing happened and nothing happened the next night and the one after that.
Hermione had always prided herself on being primed before undertaking a task. Accordingly she had made up her mind and strengthened her heart regarding the wedding night, a duty she would have to perform for the sake of her home. But as the days passed and no knock sounded on the door her resolve started to crumble. She hated feeling antsy and unprepared as if she was waiting perpetually for the other shoe to drop.
Was the duke playing some kind of game? Was he waiting till she fell into a false sense of security before he laughs at her face and proclaims the marriage to be a farce?
Hermione was naïve but no that naïve to not know that no consummation means no marriage. And no marriage means no Rose Villa.
What was the duke playing at?
What was the meaning of asking her to join for lunch when she had seen neither a hair nor a hide of the duke in the past four days?
Well, she would know now anyway. And she would call upon all the courage she could muster and settle this stupid first-night business once and for all. At least then she could have a good night's sleep without keeping an ear open waiting for the duke's footsteps. Before she could answer a loud bang sounded from the foyer followed by a slightly lyrical and accented voice.
"Malfoy? Draco! Come out, come out wherever you are. You sneaky little arse-" and the rest of the words were cut off with the thud of a door closing.
With a gasp, Winston mumbled something under his breath, something that sounded much like oh dear lord, to Hermione's ears.
"My lady, if you maybe kind to answer His Grace's letter then I shall be on my way to see the welfare of the visitor," Winston said hurriedly, his tone changing faintly at the term visitor.
"Yes, of course, Winston. I shall be honored to join His Grace," Hermione answered in a daze.
With a swift nod, the butler exited her room. Hermione turned to grill Peggy who in the devil's name was the visitor only to find her chamber completely empty, frowning she stepped out of her room only to find Peggy tilting perilously over the banister searching for someone.
"Don't lean too far, Peggy, or you will fall right in the middle of the foyer," Hermione said recalling Peggy's earlier remark. The said girl turned to look at her with a flush reddening her cheeks. "And from the redness of your cheeks and the precarious position on the banister, I assume you know of this visitor?" Hermione asked with a smile, it was endearing to watch the girl blushing.
"Oh, yes, My Lady, he is imaginably the most handsome man to grace the Queen's land," Peggy said in a dreamy voice.
Hermione simply raised her eyebrow in answer waiting for Peggy to continue.
"It is Mr. Zabini, one of the dearest friend of His Grace, apart from Lord Nott. He must have returned from his journey from Italy," Peggy said with a sigh, clasping her hands to her chest.
"If I am not wrong to assume, Winston isn't too fond of this Mr. Zabini?" Hermione asked, certainly intrigued by the strange utterances of Peggy who seemed to be fanning herself.
"Oh, think nothing of it, my lady. It's just that Mr. Zabini is a terrible flirt and he pays us maids a compliment or two from time to time. Even the stern housekeeper is a putty in front of him, she serves him extra dessert whenever he stays for dinner." She said it slightly too quickly to assume that she, herself was not alone in harbouring this strange little obsession for the womaniser downstairs.
Hermione snorted to herself, of course, the duke's dear friend was a reprobate, the birds of a feather flock together and all that.
"Dear Lord! Now that Mr. Zabini is here you, my lady should look extra special for your luncheon. Come along, we have no to time to tarry. The forest green gown with the beige slippers shall shine on you, my lady. And I should try one of those intricate hairdos the ladies are sporting nowadays," Peggy murmured to herself. And with that in a whirlwind of layers of skirts and excitement, Peggy ushered Hermione inside her chamber and started rifling through her meager wardrobe for the dress that was supposed to make her shine.
Hermione sat in front of the gilded mirror allowing Peggy's capable hands to do the magic and exhaled in relief as the darn book about fungi lay all but forgotten on the table with its pages still fluttering from the occasional draft stealing in through the open window.
.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'
"Malfoy? Draco! Come out, come out wherever you are. You sneaky little arsehole!"
Draco Malfoy scowled as the too familiar voice of his other best friend filtered through the solid door of his study. He embraced the last threads of peace before his hurricane of a friend could barge in and wreak havoc to his sanity. And as he had known, with a resounding crash the door flew open and Blaise Zabini in all his tanned glory swaggered in as if he owned the whole damn place. With a smirk that could rival his, Blaise sprawled without a care on the chair in front of him.
"What? No 'how are you' for the dear old friend?" Draco drawled slowly.
Blaise smirked and replied. "Oh, you are one to talk, Blondie! There I was soaking up the sun, drinking fine wine, and playing up the ladies in good old Italy. Only to be rudely interrupted and informed that Draco Bloody Malfoy seemed to be married. And not only that, I heard it from no other than Lady Parkinson herself who also thinks that I am the pinnacle of rippling manhood, not that I mind. Isn't that a rather rude thing to do to your closest friend. Not even a word, leave alone a wedding invitation.
Mate, I knew Theo was a gone case what with being betrothed and all that malarkey but I thought that at least you would be one to give me company in our devoted journey of drunken debauchery and squandering.
So, what happened? Did someone catch you with your hands up some debutante's skirt? I told you to diddle with them with caution. One moment these misses are screaming your name in ecstasy behinfld the fountain and the next moment their fathers are standing with a gun pointed at your head sputtering indignantly to match a duel. Or did you beget some poor gentry' woman with the next Malfoy spawn?" Blaise ranted breathlessly.
"Oh please, Blaise, you know me better than that. Nothing of that sort happened, it's even more hopeless than that," Draco said with a trace of bitterness lacing his tone. Feeling that he would need something stronger than the now cooling tea to rehash the whole incident, Draco stood and grabbed the whiskey. Ignoring the Blaise's raised eyebrow he poured a generous amount in two tumbles. "Drink up, Blaise. You are going to need it by the time I am through with you."
Before he could take a much-needed sip a slight knock interrupted him. He knew it was Winston from the knock and then he remembered that he was waiting for her answer, not that he left any choice for her anyway.
"Enter, Winston."
"My Lord, Mr. Zabini," and with that Winston bowed respectfully and well, a little less respectfully to Blaise. For some reason, Winston hasn't been too keen on Blaise from the start of their unusual friendship and Draco had disregarded that owing it to the harmless flirtation Blaise sometimes indulged in with the help. Some years ago this man had saved him from making a disastrous business deal with a shady character. Draco obviously didn't know the dealer's background that well and the timely intervention from Blaise had prevented him from a great loss. And thus a friendship was forged and later Theo had joined too making it a trio.
Winston sniffed as he eyed the tumbler full whiskey on his table and said in a dull voice, "Her Grace had replied that she would be honored to join you for luncheon today. And I don't assume, His Grace and his visitor would like anything for refreshment."
"Oh, perk up, dear Winston, I see you still aren't too fond of me are you?" Blaise drawled.
"Pardon me, Mr. Zabini but I don't suppose my considerations are of any importance in this regard," Winston said.
"Winston, Winston, Winston! I don't know what I did to procure your hatred, it's keeping me awake at lonely nights and breaking my poor old heart. Is it because I am not a fruit from the loins of the respectable gentry. Come on, we can't all be Dukes and Lords, can we. Someone has to play the role of the common gentleman. Now do me a favour and set an extra place in that ginormous dining table of yours. I shall dine here today in the dazzling presence of your new duchess," Blaise said with an easy booming laugh.
Draco tired of the to and fro parrying in between his best friend and butler, for god's sake replied, "Okay, that's enough for today. Both of you. And Winston we will be present there in time," with that Draco nodded for Winston to leave them alone. "What is it with you and Winston, and would you stop joshing around with him," Draco chided.
"But it's so much fun, Draco dear," Blaise replied gaily. "Now tell me everything that happened to drag your feet to the altar."
Another round of whiskey, some of the choicest swear words that would have forced the priest to cross himself and take the name of the lord, and one hour later, both the friends lay spread-eagled on the settee.
"What a bastard!" Blaise grumbled.
"Yes that he is."
"So you really married this harpy you had just met once? And" Blaise questioned.
"She is not a harpy," Draco replied a little too fast, then calming his expression he carried on blandly. "It's a mutually beneficial arrangement. I get what I want and so does she. And moreover, I did not have enough time to jump through the hoops that normally curtail a blue-blooded marriage."
"So, how is she in the bed? Most often these society misses are too stuffy to even bring you any kind of pleasure but what with her being from the countryside, they are supposed to be more … earthy. Aren't they?" Blaise said with a devious wiggle of his eyes.
"Do not talk in such fashion, it's unbecoming-" Draco sputtered.
"Oh, the pox on your delicate English sensibilities, you sod. I specifically remember you doing the dirty with more than one woman and that too at the same time on the same bed. So get off your high horse, will you?" Blaise added jovially.
"Well … that's different. I haven't yet-"
"My lord, are you implying that you still haven't done the consummation, have you?"
"Will you let me get me in a word otherwise?" Draco said irritably as Blaise rolled his eyes and gestured him to continue. "No, I haven't done the consummation as of yet. But does it matter? For the rest of the world, we are married as one can be and moreover it's not like I am interested in her anyway."
Blaise scoffed. "We are men, Draco, we are always interested. Well, I will still say you got the better end of the deal, mate. Besides, your inheritance is secure now."
Draco snorted. "Far from it. I already sent three missives stating the completion of my marriage but I am yet to receive any kind of acknowledgment from my father's solicitors."
"Did you make your marriage announcement in the newspaper?" Blaise asked pointedly.
"Well, no. I didn't want a bunch of people that I don't care about, calling upon me congratulating or some drivel like that," Draco replied.
"Did you take your dear duchess out, to plays, or musical, or even a ball?"Blaise said, a smirk gracing his lips.
"I … uh ... No. I just didn't have the time."
"Draco, my mate, you need to be seen around. These solicitors are snarky old devils they just won't take your word for it. A marriage certificate can be bribed or faked with the help of a pretty penny. What they need is public proof. Damn, I only came to know because Lady Pansy is a horrid gossip and even she wasn't that sure about the rumour.
Take your duchess out shopping in the Park Street, twirl her around in the next Parkinson Ball, and make a bloody statement or something."
Draco nodded absent minded. "Yes, I should probably do that."
Draco turned to look at Blaise and didn't know what to make of the peculiar looks that he kept throwing at him. With an odd smile playing on his lips, Blaise stood and pulled Draco up. "Come on, it's time to meet this not-a-harpy of a woman that you have married."
They talked business the rest of the way to the dining hall only to find it empty. Draco turned towards the rows of windows facing the rows and rows of flowers in full bloom, swaying almost lazily in the slight wind. His attention was pulled when Blaise let out a small appreciative whistle.
"Oh, now I know why you couldn't wait to get married," Blaise said cheekily.
Draco turned back in a flash.
Hermione stood elegantly draped in a green gown with pale slippers peeking from under the hem, smiling courteously at Winston. When usually her hair was pulled back with a ribbon but not today. Today half of it was artfully piled on top of her head and the rest burst around her in soft ringlets. A couple of fat curls had escaped their confinement and bounced around her cheeks. Draco frowned thinking that she looked a bit different today from all the other times he had looked at her from afar. It took him a minute but it dawned on him that the gown hugged her figure a little too faithfully. Before he could say anything, Blaise elbowed him in the stomach.
''Draco close your mouth and do introduce me with the vision standing in front of me," Blaise said the last half loud enough to garner her attention.
With a deep curtsy directed at him, she waited patiently for him to do the introductions, as was the norm of elite society.
"Lady Malfoy, this rouge here is a very dear friend of mine, Mr. Blaise Zabini and Blaise, I present to you the eleventh duchess of Wiltshire, Lady Hermione Malfoy."
Draco watched as Blaise took Hermione's gloved in his and place a fleeting kiss before bowing gracefully. Hermione returned the bow with a curtsy that would have even made the queen proud but nonetheless Draco sidled nearer to her afraid she would knock the vase placed beside her elbow. Oh yes, just because he hadn't seen her face to face other than the first night doesn't mean he didn't know all about the shenanigans she had unleashed upon the manor. He knew the dive in the bushes and the trampling of the poor footmen and of course the vase. After all, he was the lord of the manor he knew about all the going-ins, or, who he was jesting, it was bloody Thomas who took great pain upon himself in recounting the duchess' day every night before turning in.
"I don't think Draco did a justification in describing your beauty, my lady. And shall I be daring enough to compliment that you look a revelation in that gown." Draco scowled as he heard Blaise's tone deepening and his words getting more accented, a trick he usually played when he was trying to sweet talk someone.
"Your reputation preceding you certainly does you justice, Mr. Zabini. You, sir, are a trifler. I shouldn't put much stock into the revelation thing but I shall receive your compliment with utmost thanks," Hermione said with a soft smile as a blush spread across her cheeks.
Draco's eyes widened as he took in the woman smiling serenely at Blaise and who for a better word was looking gobsmacked. Before he could caution her to how to talk in a proper way, Blaise burst out in a belly-full laugh.
"Io non credo che il mio cuore potrebbe prendere queste dure parole, mia signora," Blaise said in a mock-hurt tone.
Draco tamped down the urge to roll his eyes at the Italian, Blaise was spouting off. This was Blaise's modus operandi whenever he was trying to flirt. And often the poor girl unknown to the language would titter prettily. Hell, apart from the occasional word here and there Draco even didn't know Italian, it had been French that had grabbed his attention. Blaise had once joked that he had recited the name of fruits in Italian and the fool woman had all but melted at his feet. Before he could open his mouth and prevent Hermione from embarrassing herself further, to his astonishment she replied in a perfectly fluent and accented Italian.
"Oh, io sono sicuro che il tuo cuore libertino può prendere qualche colpi , Signor Zabini, o no possono?" she smirked.
Now laughing in earnest Blaise turned to Draco and he noted that Blaise was genuinely smiling and not one of those duplicitous ones that he threw around willy-nilly. Lord, even Blaise had fallen under her spell.
"How sodding lucky are you, Draco Malfoy, you without a trial managed to grab one of the good ones out there." Blaise then turned back to Hermione and smiled softly. "You, my lady, are as feisty as they come. And I am absolutely honored to make your gracious acquaintance."
"So am I, good sir," Hermione replied with a smile.
And before Draco could fathom what in the name of lord had happened in the past few minutes, Blaise winged his elbow and just like that she placed her hand lightly on his as he ushered her towards the dining table.
"Have you ever visited la mia bella Italia, my lady?"
"No, I haven't. But I have read about it many a book. I hope I will be able to see it once in my lifetime."
"Then I implore that Draco bring you to Italy for a visit and I shall show you around my beautiful city-"
Not to feel like a fool that has been left behind he growled softly and followed them, glaring furtively at them as they became so engrossed in conversation that they switched to Italian and he could no longer understand a damn word of it.
It would suffice to say that it was one of the most tasteless lunches Draco had ever had.
Sorry, I should have included the translation earlier. I am not sure about these translation but this is what Google translate said anyway.
"Io non credo che il mio cuore potrebbe prendere queste dure parole, mia signora- "I do not think my heart could take these harsh words, my lady.
"Oh, io sono sicuro che il tuo cuore libertino può prendere qualche colpi , Signor Zabini, o no possono?" - Oh, I am sure your rakish heart can take few more blows, Mr. Zabini, or can't they?
