Chapter 5

The journey back to Lourne Estate, nestled in the heart of Hillsfolk, unfolded in silence. Marianne and Lady Hillsfolk each retreated into their own thoughts, the rhythmic clatter of the carriage wheels echoing against the cobblestones a backdrop to their inner tumult. The events of the evening at the ball, with its whirlwind announcement and the myriad reactions it sparked, replayed in Marianne's mind, her mother's complex response chief among her concerns.

As they stepped through the familiar doorway of their townhouse, the warmth and light from within seemed to offer a gentle embrace, a contrast to the storm of emotions brewing within Marianne. Yet, before they could fully savor the comfort of home, Lady Hillsfolk's demeanor shifted dramatically from the composed matriarch she had been in public into a whirlwind of ecstatic energy.

"Marianne, my dear, to think you would keep such a secret!" Lady Hillsfolk's voice, filled with a mix of disapproval and delight, filled the drawing room as they shed their outerwear. "Andrew Scriven! A duke! This is monumental news!"

Marianne watched, a mix of amusement and wariness taking hold as her mother seemed to become the embodiment of excited curiosity. "Mother, everything happened so fast," she tried to explain, her words a calm island in the sea of her mother's excitement. "There was barely a moment to think, let alone share news."

But Lady Hillsfolk was undeterred, her eyes shining with the thrill of the engagement. "But the details, Marianne! How did it happen? Was it romantic? Oh, the stories this will stir in Society!"

She urged Marianne to sit, positioning herself across from her with an expectant look, her earlier misgivings submerged beneath a tide of maternal excitement.

"Oh Mother, I cannot share such matters right now," she feigned embarrassment to avoid actually answering.

"If you cannot share it with your mother, who will you share it with?"

"No one!"

"But Marianne! All of Society will be dieing to know how this happened, you cannot disappoint in that manner."

"I can and I will. At least for now. The scrutiny is already too much for me, I cannot have the details of it talked about here and there. Let them calm down first, to digest the match?— "

"And what a match it is." Her mother's face softened. "Marianne, I want to thank you," she said, her voice now tempered with genuine affection and a hint of gravity, "for understanding the importance of making a good match and for listening to my concerns over the years."

It was a rare moment of vulnerability from Lady Hillsfolk, acknowledging the weight of expectations she had placed on Marianne's shoulders.

Marianne felt a surge of warmth towards her mother, understanding the fears and hopes that lay behind her earlier push for an advantageous marriage.

"Mother, it's all right," she responded, reaching out to hold her mother's hands.

Lady Hillsfolk gave a small, relieved smile, squeezing Marianne's hands in return.

They rose, the conversation turning to lighter topics, but the newfound understanding between them lingered, a silent agreement to navigate the future with caution and care. The engagement, while born of necessity, had woven a new layer into their relationship, one marked by shared resolve and a deeper appreciation of each other's strengths and vulnerabilities.

In the quiet of the estate, with the drama of the day behind them, Marianne felt fortified by her mother's support.

* * *

Later that day, Marianne made her way to the chamber she shared with her younger sister, Peggy. She was hoping that she would be asleep, but she had no such luck.

"Tell. Me. Everything!" Peggy's shriek was surely heard through the house.

"Peggy please be more quiet. It is late already. Think of the staff."

"Oh, they will forgive me some excitement, I am sure. My sister is secretly betrothed to a duke after all!"

"It is not a secret."

"Not anymore, but it was! I must reiterate, dear sister. Tell me everything!"

"I have nothing to tell and you have to sleep."

"You are very misguided if you think that will work."

"What do you want me to tell you, Peggy? It is not a grand love story for the ages or anything. We have known each other through Harriet and our relationship just…changed, over time," somehow it felt even worse to lie in front of her sister"s earnest enthusiasm.

She loosened the ribbons of her gown, letting the fabric fall away, replaced by the comfortable simplicity of her nightdress. Her movements were mechanical, her mind scarcely on the task as the events of the day replayed in her mind like a well-worn scroll. She brushed her hair with steady strokes, watching the strands catch the candlelight, as Peggy continued.

"Oh, fine, keep your secrets. But I have to admit, I did not know you had such a dramatic streak to you, Marianne. What a grant announcement, the secrecy, all of it is so romantic. Not to mention the duke himself!"

"He is rather dashing, but the announcement was not planned. That was all His Grace's doing, and I have to say, it caught me by surprise as well." An understatement to say the least.

"Oh, how I long for my fairy tale romance… A handsome gentleman, a secret courtship, a carriage chase, maybe a threat to our lives…"

"You read way too many novels, dear sister, and not the kind mother would approve of," Marianne chuckled.

"Maybe I am exaggerating a little, but I truly cannot wait for my debut. It will be magical!"

"I am sure it will. In just two short years. So keep strong and patient."

"I will focus on your wedding for now, to satiate my romantic heart."

"You do that. But first, sleep. I am exhausted."

"Oh fine. But you still owe me a tale of love."

" Good night, Peggy," Marianne said with as much patience a she could.

"Good night."

As she slipped into bed, the cool sheets a welcome relief against her skin, Marianne found herself staring up at the canopy, her thoughts adrift. The day had been a whirlwind, one that had started as any other and ended with her betrothed to a duke.

The weight of her family's expectations, always present, felt heavier now, more tangible. And her father was not yet even aware, as much as she knew.

And then there was her grandmother, the matriarch of their family, and the primary reason she agreed in the first place. The thought brought both comfort and a sharp pang of guilt.

Lying in the dark, the quiet of the room punctuated by Peggy's soft breaths, Marianne felt her decision pressing down on her. This ruse was not just about securing her future—it was about bringing happiness to her family, about fulfilling her grandmother's final wish.

With that realization, a resolve settled over Marianne, firm and unyielding. She would play her part to perfection, would wear the mask of the besotted fiancée as convincingly as she wore her gowns.

And in the quiet of the night, with the soft sound of Peggy's breaths as her only company, Marianne made a silent vow. She would find happiness, not just for her family but for herself.

She had to.

* * *

The following morning dawned crisp and clear, the kind of day that hinted at the promise of spring with the sun casting a soft, golden light over Lourne Estate.

Marianne found herself in the sitting room, a book open in her lap, though her thoughts were far from the words on the page. The events of the previous evening felt both like a distant dream and a pressing reality, a duality that left her restless.

Lady Hillsfolk sat across from her, embroidery in hand, the steady pull of the thread through the fabric a comforting rhythm in the quiet of the room. Their calm, however, was soon disrupted by the announcement of a visitor.

"My Lady, the Duke of Stayton is here to see you," the butler intoned, his voice carrying the weight of the social expectations that accompanied such a visit.

Lady Hillsfolk's needle paused mid-stitch, her eyes meeting Marianne's with an unreadable expression. "Well, my dear, it seems you must play the part of the affianced lady sooner than anticipated."

Marianne set her book aside, her heart fluttering . She rose, smoothing the fabric of her dress, a simple yet elegant morning gown that suddenly seemed inadequate for the occasion.

Andrew was shown into the room, his appearance as impeccable as ever, his demeanor calm yet carrying an undercurrent of tension that matched Marianne's own.

"Good morning, Lady Hillsfolk, Lady Marianne."

"Good morning, Your Grace," came Lady Hillsfolk's reply before Marianne had time to even open her mouth.

As Andrew bowed to her, she could see the slight amusement in his eyes.

"And how are you faring this fine morning, my lady?" he asked over her hand. She curtsied, feeling the annoyance rise inside her. He pinned her with his playful gaze.

The formalities of their greeting, observed under the watchful eyes of Lady Hillsfolk, still held a tension Marianne could hardly stand.

"Please sit, Your Grace, I will have tea sent up immediately," her mother said and hurried to the rope at the corner of the room.

Marianne sat down and Andrew sat directly across from her.

"Your mother seems happy," he commented, stealing a glance at the overeager Countess.

"Please don't make fun of my mother, Your Grace," she chided, no humor in her voice.

To his credit, Andrew looked genuinely taken aback. "I wouldn't dream of it, my lady. If my tone seems humorous is more because I find it sweet. She cares about you deeply."

Shaking her surprise, Marianne decided to not back down. "And yet she is happy for our betrothal. Curious."

"You have always been quick-witted. And quick to anger too. I suppose it is what makes you so fun to tease."

Her annoyance flared, but she forced it down. "That explains a lot about your character. Enjoying others' discomfort does not paint you in the best light."

"It may be so, although I have to say I am hurt. I was always under the impression you enjoyed this back and forth as well."

"Who enjoys being goaded?"

"I thought you did. Why ever else would you remain in my company?"

"I will answer that," she said sweetly as her mother came to sit in a chair on her right, "at another time, Your Grace."

"Marianne, don't be coy," her mother chided. "Please forgive her Your Grace, but ladies her age think mystery is the biggest alure."

"Do not fret, Lady Hillsfolk," he said turning and smiling at Marianne in that almost rakish way of his. "I do enjoy a good mystery."

She could not look away, and that shiver ran through her again. Silence fell in the room, for just a moment, but Marianne did not notice. She only noticed how his eyes were the most peculiar shade of hazel…

"Perhaps, Your Grace, you would like to take a turn about the garden with Marianne? The blooms are particularly lovely at this time of year."

Andrew's eyes met Marianne's, a silent question passing between them, before Marianne nodded her assent. "Yes, I believe a walk would be most refreshing."

With Lady Hillsfolk's approval, they made their way to the garden, the open doors leading to a vista of vibrant colors and the fresh, sweet scent of blooming flowers. The garden of Lourne Estate was a thing of beauty, carefully tended and lovingly maintained, a testament to the family's pride and joy in their home.

As they strolled down the gravel paths, flanked by beds of flowers that nodded gently in the soft breeze, the presence of Lady Hillsfolk at the window a constant reminder of the propriety they must maintain, Marianne and Andrew found themselves alone for the second time since their engagement had been announced.

"I must apologize for the abruptness of my visit," Andrew began, his voice low so as not to carry back to the house. "But I felt it imperative that we speak without delay."

Marianne glanced up at him, appreciating the sincerity in his eyes. "I understand. There is much we need to discuss, and there are plans to be made."

They reached a secluded part of the garden where tall hedges offered a sense of privacy, and the murmur of a nearby fountain provided a soothing backdrop to their conversation.

"Firstly," Andrew continued, stopping to face her, "I wish to express my gratitude for your willingness to go along with this… arrangement. I am fully aware of the sacrifices you are making."

Marianne met his gaze, the gravity of their situation pressing upon her. "It is a sacrifice on both our parts, Your Grace, but I am committed to seeing this through for the sake of our families."

A moment of silence passed between them, filled only by the sound of birdsong and the gentle rustle of leaves.

"I have given much thought to how we might present a united front, to make our engagement believable to the ton," Andrew said, breaking the silence. "We must be seen together often—at social events, in the park… And we must learn to know each other, to ensure our interactions carry the weight of genuine affection."

Marianne nodded, her mind racing with the implications of his words. "Yes, I agree. And we must also consider the end of our ruse. We cannot afford to leave our futures, or our reputations, to chance."

Andrew's expression hardened with determination. "Indeed. I have already begun to lay the groundwork for a narrative that will explain our eventual parting as a mutual decision, one made with the deepest respect for each other."

"We also need a convincing enough story about how all this came to be. My mother will not be kept much longer, I am afraid."

"Did you tell her something?"

"No, I managed to delay her curiosity. For now."

"And how did you do that, my lady?"

She glared at him, seeing the same sly grin on his face.

"I would rather not say."

"Oh, but you have to. So I know how to comport myself."

"I pretended to be embarrassed," she admitted, blushing.

"Like you are right now?" he teased.

"I am not embarrassed, I am simply… flushed from the sun."

"Although it is not that sunny, my lady, I will concede to you," he said with that playful smirk that made her feel annoyed and a feeling she could not quite place.

"But it is still a problem," he continued. "What should we tell them?"

"I do have an idea about that."

They resumed their walk, the path winding through the garden, leading them back towards the house, while they debated over the details.

Marianne paused, her gaze drifting over the garden, taking in the beauty that surrounded them, a stark contrast to the complexity of their situation.

"I also wanted to rediscuss some issues, Your Grace. We are doing this lying to everyone, but I must insist on certain conditions."

"I thought that was already clear between us, was it not?"

"In the heat of the moment, I fear I might have been misunderstood or simply forgotten something. And I would like to be as clear as possible about all this."

Andrew's posture stiffened slightly, an indication of his attention. "Of course," he said, his tone earnest. "Your concerns are paramount. What conditions do you have in mind?"

Marianne took a deep breath, her decision made, her resolve clear. "First," she began, meeting his gaze directly, "this arrangement between us must remain a secret. No one aside from the two of us can know of the true nature of our engagement."

Andrew nodded, understanding the necessity of discretion. "I agree. Our success depends on the world believing in the sincerity of our relationship. What else?"

"Second," Marianne continued, her voice gaining confidence as she outlined her terms, "I insist that we visit my family in the North. They must be made aware of this engagement firsthand, and I wish to ensure that we have their blessing and support."

A look of approval flashed across Andrew's face. "A sound idea. It will lend credence to our engagement and provide us an opportunity to strengthen our story."

"And third," Marianne said, her final condition hanging in the air between them, "I request a long engagement. Not indefinitely, but enough to give us time. Time to prepare, to ensure that we are not rushing into an ending without proper consideration for the future."

After outlining her conditions, a pensive silence fell on her. Andrew studied her for a moment, the implications of her words not lost on him. And, was that a blush? It couldn't, could it?

The vibrant hues of the garden around them seemed to dim as she broached a subject close to her heart.

"There's one more thing, Your Grace," she continued, her voice a mere whisper against the rustling of the leaves. Her usual composure wavered, revealing the depth of emotion she held beneath. "My grandmother… she's not well. The physicians… they say she doesn't have much longer."

Andrew watched as she fought to steady her voice, her determination shining through the vulnerability. "It's her dearest wish to see me married, to know I am looked after," she admitted, the weight of her family's expectations momentarily bending her shoulders.

A shared silence enveloped them, the kind that spoke volumes. Andrew, too, was familiar with the shadow of loss, having faced the cruel sting of death at a tender age. His parents' passing had left a void no title or wealth could fill, granting him an understanding of the pain and longing death leaves in its wake.

Marianne took a deep breath, steeling herself as she met his gaze once more. "I… We may need to maintain this ruse for years, until… until she is no longer with us."

The final words seemed to catch in her throat, a testament to the depth of her love and the pain of the impending loss.

Andrew's initial concern was for her reputation. The societal repercussions of breaking off an engagement after such a length of time could be severe, potentially casting a shadow over her chance for a genuine match in the future. Yet, as he watched her, her strength and resolve in the face of personal anguish moved him deeply.

He understood then the sacrifice she was prepared to make, the lengths to which she would go to bring even a moment of joy to her grandmother's final days. It was a selflessness that spoke to her character, her compassion, and her love for her family.

"Marianne," Andrew finally said, his voice firm with resolve, "I understand the importance of family, of fulfilling those final wishes that bring comfort in the end. I agree to your terms."

His own experiences with loss lent weight to his words, a shared understanding of the pain and the need to cling to those precious, final moments.

Marianne looked at him, a mix of relief and gratitude in her eyes. "Thank you, Your Grace," she said, her voice steadier now. "Your support in this means more than I can say."

As they made their way back to the house, the initial awkwardness that had accompanied their departure had dissipated, replaced by a sense of purpose.