The Duchess Bride

Church bells were striking midnight by the time the horses were close to the estate. The Duchess had been kept waiting at the toll road for more than half-an-hour, or so she had complained to the gatekeeper. He had refused to let her through without paying the fee, and when she said, that she was the Duchess of Garston, he had laughed, and said that there was no such lady.
“She’s dead.” He said. “She’s been dead for years.” He had kept his hand on the gate, and for a moment, Emma feared that her mistress would jump the tollgate, skirts and all. Then she looked back at her servants, and paid the fee. The keeper had snatched it from her hands, and she had backed away as his hands touched hers. With the man’s laughter ringing in their ears, the little group pressed on towards the Hall.