Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction! All OC names are random, created with a name generator. Downton Abbey is not my creation, so all credits go to Julian Fellowes and any others who deserve them. The italicized words represent a novel a character is reading; they ARE my own creation, solely to add to this fanfiction. The title, "The Duke and I", is a parody title on the Bridgerton novel (just as a reference; nothing else is taken from that novel).
Anyway, I hope you enjoy "The Duke and I", the sequel to "101 Romances"! :)
Note: My word goal for each chapter is around 3500.
Had she known then what I'd known, she might've saved herself from many troubles, particularly in the sense that John was watching her day in and day out. I saw him by the pond often; he fed the ducks, pretending they were his sole focus, when I knew he was watching Eliza tend to Master Thomas. Such was his love for her, that, on her birthday, he believed he had the authority to approach me, asking for help with planning her party. Such a man I never knew; but, then again, I had not known many men at the time.
I agreed to help John, with one request: he wouldn't be allowed to hurt Eliza. I didn't know it at the time, but the promise I had made would turn out to matter a great deal more than I ever thought it would. Eliza was so pleased the morning of the party that I did not think to consider the fact that John would ever go back on his word, and court yet another woman. Now, thinking back, I wonder what would've happened had I listened to Margaret that day and decided to abort my mission; I wonder if I might have avoided the scandal that Eliza and her lover brought down upon our heads, upon our family.
-o-o-o-
The sound of the bedroom door closing caused Rosamund Painswick to look up. Her eyes rested on a handsome face, gently lined with age, and sparkling olive green eyes. The man's dark hair was greying just a bit, but overall didn't look a day over fifty, when in reality he was approaching sixty-one.
James Myers quickly shrugged off his overcoat; Rosamund admired the muscles bulging beneath his shirt. She longed for him to hold her, to feel the heat of his body pressed against her own, to rest her head in the crook of his arm and fall asleep that way. She'd have to wait, she knew. But she'd wait as long as she had to.
James crossed the bedroom, and caught her lips with his own, kissing her slowly. His lips tasted like honey- whereas Marmaduke had always tasted of the tea he drank last- and he smelled of a flower Rosamund couldn't quite place. Sitting in bed like she was, Rosamund had to push herself up with her hands to deepen the kiss, but she did so without complaint of the strain it was putting on her wrists.
James continued to kiss her, bending over her while her head tilted up. Both of them needed to breathe, but they held the kiss for as long as they could, before James straightened. He grinned at her, his eyes found the book sprawled open on her lap.
"What book is this?" he asked, snatching it up to read the title. "The Female Affair," he read outloud. He handed it back to Rosamund, who slipped a bookmark in and set it on a small, round table beside her bedside. "What is it about, pray? A story of love and scandal?" James' voice dipped dramatically. "Or, perhaps, a story of heartbreak and tragedy?"
Rosamund laughed, and patted the bed beside her, inviting James to climb in. "It's a story about a young girl who witnesses her elder sister partaking in an affair. It's quite interesting."
"Who's it by?"
"Helen Harper."
"Ah." James made his way to the other side of the bed, and, having changed into night clothes, slid in with Rosamund. No one knew they were sharing a bed, as it would be considered improper. It was their little secret.
"By the way, I got a call from your brother this morning."
Rosamund turned on her side to look at him. "Oh? What about?"
"He's invited us to Downton for a week or two. Sybil's birthday is coming up in a few days, but he also just wants to spend time with us. He misses you."
"I wouldn't expect any less. Tell him we'll go."
James smiled sheepishly. "I might've already said yes," he said, his voice taking a sort of impish tone.
Rosamund laughed. "Really, darling, you should confer with me first."
"Do you forgive me?"
"Kiss me again and I'll forgive you everything."
"With pleasure."
Rosamund woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through her window, and found herself cradled against James' chest. The warmth of his body was always nice to wake up to, and she would risk everything the Crawley name held just to continue sleeping with him. She nudged him with her elbow. "Wake up, darling. We have a train to catch."
He yawned and separated himself from her, getting up to get dressed. He always surprised Rosamund with just how quickly he could wake himself and get ready for the day, a skill that came in handy during the first few nights he spent with her, and he had to get up and leave quickly before Rosamund's maid came in. Now of course the servants all had caught on, but they were good enough not to say anything.
The train station was surprisingly crowded for nine o'clock in the morning, but Rosamund reminded herself that it was the start of summer, after all. Everything was always busy and crowded in June.
Their train pulled up at nine-thirty, and James helped Rosamund onboard. James, being a duke, was offered the biggest and most luxurious car; they were treated so well one would think royalty was inside.
One of the things Rosamund had to get used to, being James' lover, was the constant gossip. She, as no more than the daughter of a deceased earl and the sister of a current one, was much below the status of a duke, and wasn't what most dukes were expected to go for. Elizabeth Myers, James' first wife, was even further down the line in social ranks: she was merely the daughter of a respected businessman. She'd met James at a party, attending as the sister of a baroness. So, although Rosamund held a perfectly good title, there was always talk of how she "bewitched" the Duke of Brighton into falling in love with her. When Rosamund's mama had learned of such rumors, she'd merely rolled her eyes, saying, "Oh for heaven's sake, it's the twentieth century. I mean, who still believes in witches?"
"Some people, apparently," Rosamund had replied. Her mother just scoffed.
"Here we are," James said, heaving their luggage into the overhead compartment. He snapped it shut, then he sat down on the bench beside Rosamund. "Now, do we think your brother will greet us personally, or send one of the girls to do it instead?"
Rosamund chuckled and shook her head. "You never know with Robert. Do you know, he once brought an elephant to Downton? My father had just gotten back from a trip; Robert was young and wanted to surprise him. He got the entire staff to help out, plus myself."
"How did that turn out?"
"Not well." Rosamund grinned, recalling the memory. "Papa was furious, Mama even more so. To make matters worse, the rope Robert had tethered the elephant with broke, and it got loose. We spent the rest of the afternoon running around the grounds, trying to round it up."
James laughed, doubling over in his mirth. He swung his arm around Rosamund's shoulders, pulling her into him. The train whistle sounded, and they were off.
After the train pulled up, Rosamund and James stepped out onto the platform. It was much less crowded than the London one had been- no surprise there. The only luggage that needed to be carried on one's person was Rosamund's handbag, the rest was given to the chauffeur to bring separately. It was Robert's chauffeur, a man Rosamund believed was called Starke (it wasn't her business to know the names of servants she rarely had to speak to). He was tall, thin, and relatively quiet. The sole thing he said to either Rosamund or James was a mere "M'lady" as he opened the car door for Rosamund. He seemed quite terrified of her, actually. Rosamund couldn't help but giggle at the thought of the man having to drive her mama around, even for just an hour.
"What's so funny?" James asked, as the car lurched forward.
"I'll tell you tonight," promised Rosamund.
Rosamund rested her head on James' shoulder for the duration of the ride, with his arm around her shoulders. At one point, the car ran over a bump in the road, causing the car to jolt suddenly. Rosamund's head flew up and smacked James' chin, and she hurriedly asked if he was alright. James reassured her he was, and they tried their best to conceal the laughter that followed from Starke, who seemed anxious enough to be done driving them to begin with.
As they neared Downton Abbey, Rosamund could see the top of the house through the trees. She could also see quite plainly her brother and his wife standing in front of their home, waiting to welcome them.
Starke opened the car door, and Rosamund climbed out. James slid out after her; she took his arm. Robert grinned when they walked up to him and Cora. He was dressed the same type of way James was: grey day suit. Cora, on the other hand, was much more done up, in a dress of deep blue and gloved hands.
"Welcome home," Robert greeted his sister. He kissed her cheek, before clapping James on the back. "Still taking good care of my little sister?" he asked playfully. James laughed.
"I'm doing as much taking care of her as I can. She has the strength and wit of the Dowager Lady Grantham, and as much common sense as one could hope for. Rosamund is the one keeping me in line, if anything."
"I wouldn't go by that," Robert teased. "Did she tell you that she caused the Elliot Scandal?"
James turned to the redhead and raised an eyebrow. She flushed.
"I didn't think… Charlotte wanted to go so badly and I thought a trip to France would do her good," she stammered. She looked up from the ground to see Cora gaping at her.
"You convinced her to run away?" The incredulous tone of her voice was not missed. Rosamund sighed.
"Can we change the topic?" The others just bit their lip or kicked the gravel beneath their feet to keep from laughing at her apparent disdain for the discussion.
"Let's go in. You must be tired," Cora said sweetly. Rosamund slipped her arm out from James' and into Cora's; the two women started walking toward the front door.
"Not terribly. The ride here was long…" Rosamund almost giggled at the memory of Starke, and smacking James with her head, but she didn't feel like explaining the cause for her giggles to Cora. "Anyway, how are you all?" Rosamund lifted her foot to step over the threshold. The minute she entered her old home she could practically feel herself relax, welcoming the calming sensation of being home.
"Auntie Ros!" exclaimed a young girl. Her hair, dirty blonde, seemed to have gained more curls since the last time Rosamund saw her. Her mother followed close behind as the toddler flung herself across the Great Hall and wrapped her arms around her grandaunt's middle.
"Hello, my darling." Rosamund retracted her arm from Cora's and crouched down so she could embrace Marigold properly. She couldn't help noticing that the girl's hair smelled like lavender.
"She wanted to be here to greet you," Edith explained. "We came up this morning."
Rosamund rose to her feet, feeling Marigold's hand slip into hers. She looked at the girl's mother, her niece. "How are things?"
"Just lovely," Edith replied. Rosamund sensed James coming up behind her; the sensation was confirmed when she felt his hand on her right shoulder, while Marigold was still on her other side. "The children have been playing nicely all day, while Sybil, Mary, and I took a walk around the grounds. The weather is perfect."
Rosamund smiled, thinking of her nieces taking a walk together. Mary and Edith were known to not always get along, so any chance they had to bond was perfect. Rosamund suspected Sybil was behind it, as she was usually the peacemaker in the family. She was actually taking after Isobel, proceeding in her quest to become a nurse. Rose and Sybil were quite a lot like each other, too; they both enjoyed shocking their parents, that was for sure. Mary had told Rosamund all about Rose's little adventure with the black jazz singer that'd sung at Downton. Rosamund found it surprising that her frankly snobbish niece hadn't told Susan, or at least Shrimpie. Maybe Mary was changing her ways, for better or for worse.
Cora announced that there would be a quick luncheon, if Rosamund and James wanted it. They happily agreed, leaving Cora and Robert to lead them into the dining room, where Rosamund was pleased to find light still streaming through the windows. Her entire childhood, and still to that day, Rosamund found the dining room rather dark and dreary when there was only the candlelight to see by. Now, of course, there was electric lighting, but it still didn't help much.
An array of food had been laid out on the table: tarts, pastries, a light soup, and other things like that. The table was set for ten- Cora, Robert, Edith, Mary, Sybil, Henry, Bertie, James, Rosamund, and Tom- so Rosamund presumed both Violet and Isobel wouldn't be joining them for some time. That was just as well, because Violet would only ask imprudent questions.
"Aunt Rosamund," Sybil said as they sat down at their respective place settings, "I have rather a surprise to share with you."
"Oh?" Rosamund noted that her youngest niece was practically glowing. That meant good news. As James sat down beside the redhead, Sybil continued.
"Tom and I are looking into a place of our own. You know, to raise Sybbie- and possibly other children."
"What's this about other children?" Robert asked, his brow furrowed. Sybil giggled.
"I just meant theoretically, Papa. I do want more children, as Tom knows very well." She gave her husband a wry and knowing glance. "Sybbie is just such a dear, and anyone who doesn't have at least two children is viewed as cold- you know, disliking children- in society."
"Really?" Rosamund snapped, her good mood gone suddenly. "What if, pray, the woman in question can't have a child? What then?"
"Rosamund, I don't think she-" Robert started, but Rosamund cut him off by rising to her feet so suddenly the table shook. She threw her napkin down on top of the table, causing a soft plop sound.
"I didn't think you could be so insensitive, Sybil," she said icily. She turned on her heel and fled the room.
"Oh God, what have I done?" Sybil rose shakily to her feet, placing her fingertips on the table. Tom came to stand next to her, silently placing a hand on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry. I don't know why she reacted like that." James looked from Sybil and Tom to the door Rosamund had angrily stormed out through. He sighed. "I should go after her."
Just as he was about to leave, Robert called out to him. "No. I'll go. She's my sister."
"Papa," Sybil said, her voice cracking, tears threatening to spill from her eyes at any moment. "I'm so sorry."
Robert glared at her, but the glare quickly softened into more of a stern look. Sybil didn't mean it, and Robert knew she wasn't thinking. She was probably over excited about her upcoming birthday, proud about how well Sybbie was growing, and overall her happy, cheerful self. She didn't pause to consider her words more carefully. It was an honest mistake.
"Just think next time, before you say something." Robert held his half-glare a moment longer before turning and going off to seek his sister.
"Ros?" Robert knocked gently on the door of his sister's old bedroom. "It's Robert."
"Please just leave me be," Rosamund's voice called from within the room. Robert hesitated a moment before speaking next, unsure if he wanted to press his sister further.
"Sybil feels awful."
"As she should."
"Don't sound so unforgiving."
The door flew open to reveal his sister, fuming. Robert couldn't help seeing his mama in her face, in every feature. Like mother like daughter, he thought grimly.
"Oh, so now I'm cold and unforgiving?" she sneered irritably. She made to slam the door again, but Robert stuck his foot out to stop the door. Bad move. Rosamund just opened the door wider, making Robert think for a brief second that either she would let him in or come out into the hallway, when instead she slammed it with as much force as she could muster back on his foot. He swore and wrenched his foot out of the doorframe; it was all he could do not to howl in pain. It was worth it, though, because Robert caught a brief smile play on his sister's lips when she reopened the door to admire her handiwork.
"You can come in now." Robert noticed Rosamund didn't seem as angry as she was before she squashed his foot. He scrunched up his face at the thought that watching him suffer could possibly lighten her mood.
"Thank you," he muttered, stepping inside the room.
His sister's old room was exactly as he remembered it. After Rosamund had moved to London with Marmaduke, Patrick had insisted it stay exactly as she left it, in case she ever came to visit. After he'd passed, Robert expected his mama to turn it into a guest bedroom, but Violet surprised him by not changing a single thing. So, the room was still painted a light creamy color, with the same cream-colored canopy bed against the back wall. Two armchairs sat in one corner; Rosamund took one, and Robert the other.
After a few minutes of silence, it became clear to Robert that his sister wasn't going to speak. At least, not first. He cleared his throat, in hopes that she'd turn to look at him, but she kept her head turned and her eyes averted.
"Ros," he started carefully, not wanting to upset her further, "what happened back there?"
Rosamund took a deep breath before explaining herself. "I suppose it was a trigger. That's all. I know Sybil didn't mean it to be."
"No," Robert agreed. "She didn't."
"It shouldn't bother me so much, not anymore." Rosamund gave a shaky laugh. "I'll be sixty next year, so I'll hardly be able to have children now." Robert nodded, prompting a small smile from the redhead. Then she sighed. "Let's go back. Heaven knows Sybil is too sweet to have meant that on purpose."
After returning to the dining room looking for Sybil, Tom told Rosamund that she'd gone upstairs to her own bedroom. That's how Rosamund came to be standing outside her youngest niece's door, gently turning the knob, and stepping inside.
"Papa, if you've come to lecture me, you should know that I am already more sorry than I have ever been in my life. I know I was stupid, I know I was so utterly foolish."
"It's not your papa." Rosamund lingered in the entrance way, and by Sybil's question, she knew Sybil couldn't see her.
"Mama, then? Has Papa sent you, so that he might spare me a beating?" Rosamund could see plainly an olive-skinned, dark-haired woman sitting on her bed with her back to the door. Her hair, which had been so perfectly done up when Rosamund and James had arrived, was slightly frizzy from being rubbed around, presumably in Sybil throwing herself on the bed. Rosamund felt a sharp pang of emotion when she realized that, all around Sybil's room, were letters from various family and friends, not to mention the few photos Sybil had managed to collect. Years worth of memorabilia, scattered, all over her room.
"One, I don't think Robert would beat you." Rosamund saw Sybil's posture visibly break. "Two, I just wanted to tell you it was alright. I know you didn't mean to…" She trailed off, unsure of how to finish the sentence. "To be fair, Sybil, I overreacted and I'm sorry for it."
Sybil turned around, but her expression didn't change when she recognized the speaker. Her cheeks were wet, meaning she'd been crying. Decisively, Sybil moved over on her bed just enough so that Rosamund might sit down. She did.
"You were trying to tell me about the home you and Tom plan to move to," Rosamund began cautiously. "Would you like to enlighten me on the details?"
Sybil glanced up at her, finding only uneasiness in her aunt's eyes. She doesn't know how to approach the conversation, Sybil noticed. "Well…" she started, "It's much smaller than Downton…"