Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

" H ere we are," Anthony muttered as the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Redfern Castle, Eliza's breath caught.

The castle loomed before her, its grand structure nestled among sprawling gardens and ancient trees. She barely had time to take in the sight of her new home before the door swung open and a chill of tension settled back over her.

Anthony exited the carriage first, and Eliza followed, her eyes lingering on the imposing stone walls and intricately designed windows, but the hope that briefly flickered inside her was quickly dampened by the memory of their argument during the journey.

The towering oak doors of the castle creaked open, revealing a line of servants standing at attention in the courtyard. Their faces, though warm and welcoming, could not chase away the knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach.

A woman with a kind smile stepped forward, her hands folded neatly in front of her.

"Welcome to Redfern Castle, Your Grace," the woman said with a deep curtsy. "We are honored to have you here. I am Mrs. Hayes, your housekeeper."

Eliza returned the smile, grateful for the warmth in the housekeeper's eyes. "Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. I appreciate your kind welcome."

Anthony, standing beside her, gave a brief nod to the staff, his expression cold and distant. "Make sure the Duchess is shown around and made comfortable," he instructed curtly. "I will be in my study. And I am not to be disturbed."

Without waiting for a response, Anthony turned on his heel and strode toward the castle, leaving Eliza standing awkwardly in the courtyard.

The staff exchanged uneasy glances, clearly aware of the tension but too polite to comment.

Mrs. Hayes stepped closer to Eliza, her voice soft but professional. "Would you like to see your chambers first, Your Grace, or would you prefer a quick tour of the castle?"

Eliza hesitated, glancing back at Anthony's retreating figure before forcing a smile. "A tour, I think. I'd like to get a sense of the place."

"Of course, Your Grace," Mrs. Hayes replied, motioning for the other servants to disperse.

She led Eliza through the grand entrance and into the castle, pointing out the various rooms and their purposes as they went.

"This is the drawing room, where you might entertain guests, and over here is the library, filled with volumes dating back centuries."

Eliza nodded politely, but her mind was elsewhere. Every step she took deepened the sense of isolation that had crept in since they arrived. Anthony's coldness stung, and the vastness of the castle made her feel more like a stranger than the mistress of the house.

As they continued the tour, Mrs. Hayes's voice broke through her thoughts. "And here is the dining room, where meals will be served. If there's anything specific you would like or need, please do not hesitate to let me know."

Eliza paused in the doorway of the dining room, taking in the long, polished table and the high-backed chairs that surrounded it.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hayes," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I will keep that in mind."

Mrs. Hayes hesitated, then cleared her throat gently. "If I may, Your Grace, I know this transition can be overwhelming. The castle is large, and there are many responsibilities, but you have the full support of the staff. We are here to assist you in any way you require."

Eliza looked at Mrs. Hayes, feeling a pang of uncertainty. "I appreciate that, truly. It's just… all of this is new to me. I want to do things right, but I am afraid of making mistakes."

Mrs. Hayes offered a reassuring smile. "Every new mistress feels that way, Your Grace. It's perfectly natural. You will find your footing soon enough, and we'll be here to help you along the way."

Eliza nodded, but the anxiety still gnawed at her. Her aunt's words echoed in her mind—how she would never be capable of managing a household, how she would be doomed to failure without guidance.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hayes," she said again though her voice was tinged with doubt.

The housekeeper seemed to sense her unease. "Would you like to see your chambers now, Your Grace? It might help you feel more settled."

"Yes, please," Eliza agreed, eager to escape the oppressive thoughts that had taken root.

Mrs. Hayes led her to a luxurious suite of rooms that had been meticulously prepared. The bed was draped in rich fabrics, and fresh flowers filled the air with a delicate fragrance. Yet, despite the beauty, the chambers felt cold and empty.

As Eliza stood in the center of the room, trying to process everything, Mrs. Hayes hesitated at the door. "If there's anything more you need, Your Grace, just ring for me."

Eliza nodded, offering a weak smile. Mrs. Hayes turned to leave, but then hesitated.

"Your Grace, may I speak freely?" Mrs. Hayes began, her tone carefully measured. "I wanted to ensure everything is to your liking. This is your home now, and it's important that you feel comfortable here."

Eliza managed a small smile, grateful for the woman's attentiveness. "Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. Everything is lovely, truly. It's just…"

She hesitated, unsure of how much she should reveal. It wasn't proper to burden a staff member with her personal concerns, but the anxiety gnawing at her was difficult to suppress.

Mrs. Hayes, noticing her hesitation, took a step closer.

"If I may, Your Grace," Mrs. Hayes said, her voice gentle but formal, "it is natural to feel a bit overwhelmed at first. The staff and I are here to assist you in every way we can."

Eliza took a deep breath, trying to absorb the housekeeper's words. "I suppose I just worry. What if I make mistakes? What if I am not… enough?"

Mrs. Hayes hesitated, clearly wanting to choose her words carefully. "With your permission, Your Grace, I would say that mistakes are part of life for everyone, regardless of rank. What matters is how you approach those moments."

Eliza nodded though the anxiety still gnawed at her. The thought of giving orders, making decisions, and overseeing such a vast estate was daunting.

"Thank you, Mrs. Hayes. I will take things one step at a time."

Mrs. Hayes smiled softly. "That is all anyone can do, Your Grace. If I may suggest, would you like the staff to prepare something special for dinner tonight? Perhaps something that would help you feel more at home?"

Eliza considered the offer, realizing she wasn't even sure what would bring her comfort anymore. "That is very kind of you, Mrs. Hayes. Perhaps something simple… something familiar."

Mrs. Hayes nodded respectfully. "Of course, Your Grace. I will see to it."

Anthony sat at his desk, papers spread out before him in neat stack as he reviewed the estate accounts. Numbers and figures occupied his thoughts, providing a welcome distraction from the turmoil that had plagued him since his marriage to Eliza. The clear-cut logic of finances and estate management was comforting, a realm where he could maintain control—unlike the chaos of his personal life.

He was immersed in calculations when a soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He frowned slightly, irritated by the intrusion.

He glanced at the clock on the mantel—dinner time already. He had no appetite and certainly no desire to engage in awkward conversation with Eliza.

"Enter," he called out, his tone clipped.

The door opened, and the butler, Mr. Thornton, stepped inside with his usual air of quiet professionalism.

He bowed slightly before speaking, "Your Grace, I apologize for disturbing you. Dinner is served in the dining room."

Anthony's gaze flickered to the papers on his desk then back to Mr. Thornton with a sigh.

He wasn't in the mood for a formal meal, especially not one where he'd be expected to make polite conversation with Eliza. He could not face her, not now they were alone in his house, now they were husband and wife. She held far too much power over him, and he had no desire to face the tension that would undoubtedly fill the dining room.

"Tell the Duchess I will not be joining her," Anthony said curtly, returning his attention to the ledger before him. "I have matters to attend to."

Mr. Thornton hesitated for a brief moment, his professional mask slipping just enough to reveal a hint of concern. "As you wish, Your Grace. Shall I convey any particular message to the Duchess?"

Anthony's jaw tightened. The last thing he wanted was for his absence to be analyzed or discussed.

"No message is necessary. Just inform her that I am preoccupied."

"Very well, Your Grace," Mr. Thornton replied, bowing again before he left the room, quietly closing the door behind him.

Anthony exhaled, running a hand through his hair as he tried to refocus on the numbers in front of him. But the irritation gnawed at him.

He could not shake the image of Eliza's face, the hurt in her eyes when he'd told her their marriage was merely formal. He despised the idea of being trapped in a situation he never wanted, especially with her, of all women. Yet, the guilt lingered, making it difficult to concentrate.

Minutes ticked by, and Anthony tried to immerse himself in the ledgers once more, but the numbers blurred on the page. His mind kept drifting back to Eliza.

As if summoning her, he heard a soft knock, and the door creaked open. Anthony looked up in surprise as Eliza entered the room, her cheeks flushed with emotion.

"Anthony," she began, her voice edged with frustration, "I was informed you wouldn't be coming to dinner. Aren't you hungry?

He frowned, the irritation bubbling up again. "I told Mr. Thornton I am busy. I have important matters to deal with."

Eliza stepped closer, her eyes flashing with anger. "By important matters you mean the estate accounts, right? Still, you could spare some time to eat something? It would help with your focus."

Her words were careful, gentle. So gentle that they sent tingles down the back of his neck, and it reminded him how softly she ran her hands through his hair…

Damn it, Redfern, get your act together .

"I do not have time for this," Anthony muttered, "There are pressing issues to address, and I cannot drop them for a dinner."

"I understand you have a lot on your plate. But it is important to take care of yourself too," she replied.

"Eliza, I am a grown man. I can take care of myself."

"I did not imply you couldn't. I simply thought you could use some food to get you through the night," she spoke genuinely.

He sighed. He hated being coddled, but when it came from her lips, a warmth like no other would rise within him.

He had to make it stop some way.

"I shall send for something to be sent to me here. Satisfied?"

"Actually, I thought our conversation would take this route. So, I have already taken the liberty of doing so," Eliza responded and opened the door, "Come in."

A footman entered with a silver tray, "Your Grace," he bowed at Eliza and then at him, "Good evening, Your Grace. Where shall I place this for you?"

Anthony blinked.

"Um, just on that corner of the desk, thank you," he told the staff member, nodding towards the tidier side of his desk.

"At once, Your Grace," the man said and left the tray gently on the mahogany table.

"Will you need anything else from me, Your Grace?" the man asked.

Anthony shook his head, "No, you may go. Thank you."

After bowing again at both him and the Duchess, the footman left the room, and Anthony glanced at the tray; there was an assortment of sandwiches and tea.

"I thought you'd want something will minimal spillage," Eliza spoke and he lifted his head back up.

He gulped, trying to shove away the warm tingles again.

"Thank you. It was very considerate of you," he said as coolly as he could muster.

"You are welcome," she gave him a small smile.

"I should return to my work," he said, for the longer she stood there, the more he felt like he'd lose his mind.

"Oh. Of course," she nodded awkwardly.

"You should know that I am leaving for London in the morning," he blurted out and stopped at the doorway.

"Oh," she said with disappointment, and she slowly turned to face him. "When will you be back?"

"I do not know," he replied flatly.

"All right. Goodnight, then. And have a safe trip."

"Thank you. Goodnight."

The door closed softly behind her, and Anthony stared at the papers in front of him, the numbers now completely meaningless.

He had driven her away, just as he intended, but the victory felt hollow.

The silence in the room grew oppressive, but he forced himself to focus on the work at hand, even as the words of their argument echoed in his mind.

For the rest of the night, he sat at his desk, pretending to work, even as the gnawing emptiness consumed him.