The Wicked Wager Read online

  ***

  The earl had not been this happy or excited since the time he had been a student. The social whirlwind irked him, and the last few years of the same old rigmarole had been unbearable.

  He did like people and enjoyed being friendly, but it was the rules of the ton that chafed at him.

  He threw himself into creating the perfect image of a gardener. The head gardener could not be a young man, so his excellent valet had procured a number of beards and moustaches of all shades and sizes. The earl eagerly tried one after the other.

  His clothes had to be appropriate; he wondered if adding a walking stick and a clay pipe was too much. He decided to keep the clay pipe.

  He was not a good actor, his honest face showing more than he liked. Hence the need for a prop; he could puff away when he wanted to avoid answering a question or pretend to fill it to buy time.

  Except his valet, no one would be aware of his real identity. This was his chance to be free and do as he pleased. As an earl with a large, flourishing estate, he had to be responsible and project a certain image.

  He could not afford to have his workers find him in his cups, dancing au naturel in the streets. He could no longer cavort with the local wenches or try and spike his great aunt Agatha’s drink just to hear her croon bawdy songs in the village church. Those days were long gone.

  Yet now was his chance to throw off his aristocratic mantle and once more live life as he wanted.

  Four long weeks of sheer pleasure and freedom awaited him.

  Smiling, he ordered his valet to carefully pack his bags and add nothing of value, not even his expensive tobacco. The scent could alert anyone, and the earl wanted to do things right.

  His persona would be perfect, from the top of his powdered hair to the dirt artfully added under his toe nails.

  ***

  Over the next few days, Emma tried to convince the earl to give up the entire foolish escapade. This was not a play but real life, where if things went wrong, the result could be disastrous.

  The earl assumed Emma had no faith in his skills or his intelligence; hence, his need to prove her wrong grew stronger day by day, and soon whatever iota of doubt that had remained in him vanished in response to Emma’s scepticism.

  “We leave at eight in the morning tomorrow,” Emma said grudgingly.

  “Tell me, who is accompanying you?” the earl asked.

  “My maid Bessie, a few male servants for our safety,” she paused, and added slyly, “and my mother … who will stay with us for an entire week.”

  “You never mentioned your mother’s stay before?”

  Emma noted that the earl did not look agitated at the news. He had been expecting something of the sort.

  “I may have pushed her a little bit. After all, I will not have much time to spend with her once I am married,” she said defensively.

  “In order to discourage me and foil our plans before we even start,” the earl remarked shrewdly.

  “Did it work?” she asked hopefully.

  “On the contrary, my dear, it will allow me to travel in leisure and see to decent accommodations for my valet, as he will be staying in the village nearby. You have been most unhelpful in answering my queries regarding the duke except to say he is wonderful. It will give me a chance to investigate a little. Servants at times know a lot more, and they talk.”

  “He will be suspicious as to your identity if you arrive after us. He may decide to investigate. I mean, he is a cautious man, and he couldn’t be sure that you are not an imposter who has done away with the real gardener to steal the family jewels. Once he finds you have no history except my father to recommend you, he will ferret you out before you even start work.”

  “My dear, I will not be found out. He can investigate to his heart’s content. My head gardener retired a year ago, and I have adopted his complete persona. If the duke does try and investigate, then he will write to me to clarify as his previous employer. I will give the man a glowing recommendation, since he was a truly excellent gardener. My valet will keep me up to date about letters and such. The gardener now lives in a remote village, and except for me and my valet, no one has bothered to learn of his whereabouts. I will also confirm, should the duke ask, that I had recommended the man to your father, since he wanted to live in the country. The London air was depressing the man, and I could not see a faithful employee suffer so.”

  “How can he know that you recommended him to father? Father is unaware of our charade, remember?” she said triumphantly.

  “That is where you come in. You will steal all the letters the duke writes to your father and reply to them if needed. You can reply to the letter and say that I recommended the gardener.”

  Emma glared at him. ”I will do no such thing. What of my poor delicate nerves? They would never be able to handle the suspense.”

  The earl laughed outright at that.

  Emma left him spluttering in mirth while she made her way home. She had a lot to finish before the day was over, and she had done her duty in warning him.

  He could behave like a child and play games if he wanted to. She was washing her hands of the entire affair. Feeling calmer once the decision was made, she went about her day in a much better mood.

  ***

  The earl had all his gardeners lined up in a row.

  They watched him nervously. The last time the earl had requested their presence had been to conduct an experiment.

  He had just begun studying medicine at university, and botany happened to be an important part of his studies. He had requested the gardeners to provide him with certain varieties of herbs.

  He had then pounded, poured, strained, and mixed together various tinctures. The gardeners had been bid to drink the various multihued liquids.

  The poor fellows drank the proffered concoctions and gave their names to be written on the labels of bottles that they had partaken of.

  The results were duly noted by the earl and were the following:

  Gardener one - Excessive gas – Was thrown out of bed by his wife for three days straight.

  Gardener two - Skin turned an unsightly orange – May have a remedy, though the deuced man runs every time he sees me.

  Gardener three – His face seems to have taken on a queer visage. It looks like tiny fish with extremely sharp teeth have made a feast of him.

  Gardener four – Has not yet emerged from the privy.

  Gardener five – Could have given the man the pox.

  … and on the list went. Twenty gardeners had avoided the earl for the next five years. This was the first time they had been called to his presence once more. As he was the earl now, they had no choice but to comply.

  The earl was sympathetic, as their nervousness was understandable.

  “Now, I have not asked you here to conduct any sort of experimentation,” he said soothingly.

  They did not look convinced and eyed him warily.

  “I simply need a list of your duties and a few hours of your time. I want to learn a little bit about what you do.”

  The faces changed to alarm. Did the earl doubt their expertise? Was he planning to let some of them go? Was he in some sort of financial trouble?

  “The reason I want to know a bit about the sort of work you do is because I intend to have a patch of my own. I find myself drawn to the magic of plants. I want to see them grow and nurture them as they bear fruits. It is a beautiful hobby to have, and I request your help.”

  The gardeners eyed him sceptically.

  They had heard of ladies tending to flower patches. The head gardener had a devil of a job sneaking to the chosen garden plot and fixing the disaster that had been unleashed upon the plants.

  The ladies, in turn, believed the health of their beautiful blooms lay fully in their own green hands. While they boasted to fellow ladies of their accomplishments in their latest hobby, the poor gardener sweated and toiled to keep up such appearances.

  If his interests were encouraged, the ea
rl would be a terror. Silently, the men vowed to deter the earl from choosing any such leisure activity.

  In the end they gave him a highly exaggerated account of all that was involved.

  The earl dismissed the men and sat down to think. He, as the head gardener, would be required to tend to the most sensitive plants. He had to inspect the entire estate for plant diseases, destructive insects, weeds, and fruit eating birds.

  He was also responsible for under-gardeners numbering twenty to forty, depending on the size of the estate. He had to resolve petty disputes, provide the kitchens, keep account of fruits and vegetables, and ensure the flowers bloomed when they should and not a minute sooner. It was a daunting task, to say the least, and he wanted to give up there and then.

  A vision of Emma rose before his eyes, bringing his negative thoughts to a screeching halt.

  He was no coward, and a few sprigs of grass would not keep him away from attempting this charade. He could always delegate; after all, everyone under him knew what to do. He may not know as much as a gardener would about soil and seeds, but he did know something of politics.

  Chapter 4

  “You any good with ’em plants? The duke doesn’t hire riff raffs, mind you.”

  “Some say, I am a doctor of plants. My roses are the finest and the fruits I grow, the sweetest.”

  “Hear this lads, he says he is the doctor of plants. You take ’em and put their broken branches up in slings and dose ’em with some Laudanum, eh?”

  “Mayhap you sing the wee ones some lullaby!”

  The pub roared with laughter while the earl scowled through his beard.

  He had expected the dirty mugs and the flea infested bed, but he had not expected to become the butt of all jokes.

  It had all started with choosing the wrong sort of name. He should have chosen some other gardener to impersonate, but his own retired man had seemed so perfect. He was conveniently far away with no one aware of his whereabouts.

  He had often wondered at the fierce expression on his gardener’s face every time he had encountered him. Lord or lowly servant would be all treated to that same angry expression. He scared the maids and terrified the housekeeper.

  Had he not been such a wonderful gardener the earl would have let him go. Instead, he had worked for him until the ripe old age of sixty.

  The earl felt a twinge of sympathy for the old man. He no longer blamed the man for his severe visage, since he was doing a darned good imitation of it at that moment.

  His plan had worked beautifully up until the time they had taken up lodgings at the inn nearby the duke’s residence.

  Every time he was introduced, the game of lets pull the new gardener’s leg began. He could hardly hold a decent conversation for more than a minute before striding out in anger.

  His valet had proved to be a treasure, since his own investigations were coming to naught. Burns, with his perfectly respectable name, had gone out to glean what information he could.

  “Why are we packing, Burns?”

  “Sir, we are going back to London.”

  The earl took out his snow white handkerchief and placed it on a chair. He then perched his bottom carefully on the cloth. Once done, he turned back to his valet, whose countenance resembled the peeling yellow walls.

  “And why are we going back?”

  “Sir, that man, the duke, is a terror. The last time he caught a man trying to cheat him he made him wear his housekeeper’s skirts, sat him upon a donkey, and took him for a ride around the village.”

  “Hmm”

  “My Lord, they … the little girls … they threw flowers at him.”

  “Stop trembling in emotion. He wouldn’t dare do that to an earl.”

  “The man who cheated him had been a baron.”

  The earl gulped. The valet resumed packing.

  “This is the test of true love, Burns. The duke is my personal dragon, standing in the way of my claiming the beautiful princess. I will not allow him to kidnap my beautiful Emma, even if it means facing my death.”

  “Sir, didn’t she go to him on her own?”

  “Dash it, you fail to see the romance of it all.”

  “After ten years of being married to my missus, forgive me for forgetting what romance is like,” Burns retorted.

  This entire business of telling Burns to treat him as an equal was simply not working out. He had wanted to get into character and had threatened and cajoled his valet to speak his mind. Now that Burns was getting into the spirit of things, the earl was not feeling particularly happy.

  “We are not leaving before the month is over, and that is the end of it. Unpack the bags,” he ordered.

  Burns stood looking torn. His full red cheeks puffed in agitation. He finally sighed and did as he was told.

  The earl gave a sharp nod, and after checking his appearance in the dirty, cracked mirror nailed to the wall, he proceeded to the duke’s estate.

  ***

  “It is difficult to decide what to do?”

  The earl stared at Mrs Purcell nervously. She had to hire him; he couldn’t have it otherwise. The woman standing before him was tall and thin faced, just the type he would have imagined the duke to hire - capable and cold.

  “What may be the problem, miss? Is something out of order?”

  “I received instructions from the duke, and you come highly recommended. You seem to know your plants.”

  The earl certainly hoped so. With his years spent studying botany amongst other subjects at Oxford, he had better know his roots from his shoots.

  Not to mention the entire day he had spent toiling in his own field being instructed by ten terribly boisterous and contradictory gardeners.

  “It is your name. How am I supposed to call out to you? It will not do for a lady to utter such a name. Even writing it down in the books would be mortifying, especially since the accountant goes over them.”

  A prude as well thought the earl agitatedly.

  “It is a common enough name, I assure you, miss.”

  “Yes, well, that may be so, but I don’t have people with such names in my employ.”

  The earl remained silent, cursing his beard and his filthy clothes. Getting people to do what he wanted had always been easy for him. He simply charmed them with his looks. Being without his title was suddenly making him realise how vulnerable he truly was.

  He wondered how people managed daily without any assets. Every day would be a struggle if one always had to depend on one’s wit rather than one’s looks or name.

  “We have been waiting for over two months for a head gardener. I have been searching high and low. There is such a dearth of reliable servants these days. I cannot have the gardens neglected much longer. The under-gardeners are decent lads who know their job, but they have been constantly bickering with one another. Each one is trying to vie for the position of the head gardener and wanting to do their own thing. I cannot have roses growing in the patch of daisies, and I do not have the time to deal with petty rivalries. I am at my wits end, so to speak, and as I have no choice at the moment, I will take you on. Mind you, it will be a temporary position until I find someone to replace you … unless you intend to change your name?” Mrs Purcell asked hopefully.

  “I have borne this name for over sixty years, madam. Why, my father and his grandfather and his grandfather had all been named thus. It is the matter of my roots, and each one of us has succeeded in creating the most magnificent gardens. My ancestor was an under-gardener to the English King’s head gardener himself. I do not like to boast, but …”.

  “Yes, yes, that is enough,” said Mrs Purcell hurriedly. She realised he was one of those long winded types. The older a man got the more wordy he seemed to get.

  “Is that all, Mrs Purcell? May I start work in the morning?”

  “Yes, you can come to the kitchens at nine, and you will be shown your accommodations and things.”

  The earl waited, knowing she would have to say it.

 
; “Thank you … err … Mr … err … Shufflebottom.”

  The earl left, still chuckling into his sleeve.

  ***

  It had been over a week, and Emma was wondering where the earl had got to. He had not even written to her.

  She did not like feeling worried, and it was an odd sensation worrying about someone’s safety other than one’s own immediate family. She already missed him terribly.

  Maybe he had decided to stay in London and give up the whole foolish charade. Curiously that made her feel disappointed. In spite of all her arguments, she had looked forward to the grand scheme.

  She glanced back at her maid and her cousin strolling slowly behind her. Emma enjoyed a good brisk walk, while her abigail was too fat to keep up. Her slim cousin liked to amble leisurely, most of the time her head was lost in some book or the other that she was reading.

  It was difficult to force her cousin outdoors, and she worried about her coming out next year … her reverie was interrupted by a hiss.

  “Psst”

  Emma started. She peered at the apple trees. The sound had been loud, but she could not see anyone close by.

  “This way”

  Emma turned to her right and made her way towards the bit where the trees grew closer together. As soon as she was hidden from the main path, she felt a hand clasp around her mouth.

  “Hush, don’t scream. It is me, Richard.”

  Emma nodded, her eyes wide. The moment he took his hands off her, she dissolved into giggles.

  The earl, who had once been the epitome of high fashion, bordering on being a fop, was now clad in a set of dirty shirt and trousers. He wore a long, full beard with a moustache to rival, and his hair was powdered white. To complete the look he had blackened a few of his teeth and reeked of some cheap tobacco.

  “I don’t think I want to kiss you, My Lord.”

  The earl smiled ruefully, “I did not think so. Now, listen quickly before your maid catches up with you. I have procured the post of the head gardener, and I am now living in the servants’ quarters. I need to see you again. We have to find a way of meeting occasionally without anyone being around. I cannot come to you or send a message, so you will have to plan the means.”