Chapter 21

CHAPTER 21

“ Y our Grace,” Barrow said, stepping into the drawing room. “The Duchess of Sterlin and Lady Anabelle Sutton are here.”

Peggy blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“The Duc—” before Barrow could finish, Margaret was already on her feet, her embroidery forgotten on the settee. “Lizzy! Anna!” she cried, her voice bright with excitement. Without a moment’s hesitation, she gathered her skirts and hurried out of the room, leaving Barrow to follow in bemused silence.

She reached the grand foyer in record time, her breath quickened with the rush of emotion. Standing near the entrance, framed by the soft morning light pouring through the arched windows, were Elizabeth and Anna. The sight of them, as familiar and dear as her childhood memories, brought an immediate warmth to her chest.

“Lizzy! Anna!” Peggy exclaimed again, crossing the marble floor with eager steps. She threw her arms around them, pulling them into a close embrace that left no room for decorum. “What are you doing all the way in the country during the Season?” she asked, her voice trembling with delight.

Elizabeth, poised and elegant as ever, pulled back slightly, her gloved hands resting affectionately on Peggy’s arms. “Alexander is here to inspect a property he has expressed interest in acquiring. I could not abide another day in Town’s stifling air, so I accompanied him,” she said with a serene smile.

Peggy turned her gaze to Anna, her brow lifting in silent inquiry.

Anna shrugged with an air of practiced indifference. “Lizzy mentioned she would be calling on you while in the country. Naturally, I thought it prudent to join her. Someone must ensure you are not driving yourself mad with isolation.”

Peggy’s lips quirked into a teasing smile. “So, in essence, you imposed yourself on Lizzy and her husband?”

Anna placed a hand over her chest, her mock offense almost convincing. “Is this how you welcome a concerned cousin? By accusing me of imposition?”

Peggy’s laugh was light and genuine, a sound that filled the space between them. Elizabeth soon joined in, her own smile softening the edges of her typically composed demeanor, while Anna’s grin grew wider.

“Well, I am glad you both came, whatever the reason,” Peggy said, the warmth in her voice genuine as she linked arms with them and led them toward the drawing room.

Once they were seated, Peggy rang for tea and settled opposite her visitors, her spirits lifting with each passing moment. Elizabeth studied her sister with a keen but affectionate gaze. “So, dearest, how has married life been treating you?”

Peggy exhaled deeply, the sigh heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“That is not an encouraging sound,” Anna remarked, her tone dry as her sharp eyes swept over Peggy with the same penetrating scrutiny that had unnerved her since childhood.

“Do not jump to conclusions, Anna,” Elizabeth said, her tone chastening yet gentle.

“How else would you interpret that sigh, Elizabeth?” Anna said, her tone lightly accusatory.

Elizabeth turned her attention toward Peggy, her brows knit with concern. “Is everything amiss, Peggy?”

Peggy hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around the delicate porcelain teacup she held. Dismissing their concerns would be easy, a simple nod and a hollow reassurance, but something within her resisted. The weight of her solitude had pressed heavily upon her of late, and the words tumbled from her lips before she could stop them.

“There is little life in the household,” she admitted, her voice quieter than she intended. “It feels... empty, as though the very walls sigh with discontent.”

She paused, glancing down at the pale sheen of tea rippling in her cup. “And the servants, though dutiful, are not the warmest of company. I find it difficult to bring any liveliness to such a somber place.”

Her words ended on a soft sigh, and she glanced up, only to find her sisters exchanging glances of concern. They both regarded her with an intensity that made Peggy shift in her chair, suddenly aware of how much she had revealed.

Elizabeth was the first to break the silence. “You speak as though you have taken residence in a ghostly village,” she said, a small chuckle escaping her lips, though her gaze remained gentle, searching.

“Do you still keep the salt Aunt Petunia gave you?” Anna interjected suddenly, her tone startlingly earnest.

Peggy blinked, her head tilting in confusion. “The salt?”

Elizabeth groaned softly, her exasperation evident. “Anna, truly.”

“What?” Anna replied, entirely unrepentant. “As Aunt Petunia so wisely said, it is better to be cautious than have regrets.”

“You scarcely believe in such nonsense yourself,” Elizabeth countered, her tone a mixture of amusement and reproach.

Peggy glanced between them, her lips twitching involuntarily at their bickering, though her heart remained heavy. For all the warmth and familiarity of their exchange, she could not ignore the echo of emptiness that still filled the castle.

“After hearing our dear sister’s reflections, I must confess I am beginning to form an inclination myself,” Anna said with theatrical gravity. She cast a deliberate glance around the drawing room, her gaze both expectant and cautious. “There is a peculiar heaviness in the air that I cannot seem to make sense of since our arrival.”

Peggy released a soft laugh, though the sound felt lighter than her mood. “Oh, it is likely nothing more than the dust,” she quipped, motioning vaguely to the high ceilings and ornate moldings. “The furniture is nearly as old as the castle itself, you know.”

The corners of her lips lifted in amusement as a sudden thought struck her—what would Morgan think of a renovation? The grand drawing room, while undeniably stately, bore an air of faded splendor. The drapes hung heavy and dark, the gilded frames of the paintings were dulled with time, and the once-vibrant rug beneath their feet seemed muted by years of wear. It was clear the house had not been redecorated since, well, at least Morgan’s grandmother’s time. Perhaps, she mused, a touch of modernity would breathe life into its somber halls.

“Well,” Anna replied, her voice bright though her gaze remained thoughtful, “whatever the case, I suggest you keep Aunt Petunia’s salt at hand.” She laughed lightly, but Peggy did not miss the flicker of concern in her cousin’s expression.

Peggy tilted her head, studying Anna with a touch of curiosity. Was Anna still unconvinced about Giltford? The weight of her cousin’s earlier doubts brushed against her thoughts, but Peggy chose not to dwell. Instead, she schooled her features into a semblance of cheer. “I shall keep it in my reticule, just in case the spirits of Giltford should object to my presence,” she said with an exaggeratedly serious nod.

Elizabeth, who had been quiet until now, leaned forward, her expression softening as she reached for Peggy’s hand. “Peggy, dearest, I believe I am uniquely positioned to offer you counsel in this,” she began, her voice low and steady. “Considering my own marriage was, shall we say, equally sudden.”

Peggy felt the warmth of Elizabeth’s hand over her own and found herself holding her breath as her elder sister continued. “Give it time,” Elizabeth said gently. “The servants, the household—everyone needs time to adjust to the presence of a mistress after so many years without one. But most of all, give him time.” She squeezed Peggy’s hand in a reassuring gesture. “I am certain he will warm to you.”

Peggy’s throat tightened, and she quickly blinked away the sting of tears. “Thank you, Lizzy,” she managed, her voice quieter than she intended.

“Should he fail to warm up,” Anna interjected with a mischievous glint in her eye, “you must know that I am but a missive away.”

Peggy let out a surprised laugh, while Elizabeth fixed Anna with an exasperated glare. “Anna! You might show a bit more optimism for once.”

Anna merely shrugged, a smile tugging at her lips. “What? A word of caution never goes amiss. And, rest assured, if necessary, I will see to the matter myself.”

“And what exactly would you do, Anna?” Elizabeth challenged with incredulity.

“Why, there is no husband alive who cannot be set straight with a properly worded warning,” Anna declared, her voice grandiose, though her playful grin betrayed her true intent.

“I shall have rooms prepared for you,” Peggy said warmly, her hands clasped before her as she regarded her sisters.

Elizabeth shook her head gently, her auburn curls brushing against her collar. “There is no need, Peggy. We have already made arrangements for lodgings in the village.”

“And besides,” Anna added with a mischievous smile, “we could not possibly intrude upon your honeymoon. Far too early for that yet, would you not agree?”

Elizabeth shot Anna a pointed look, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. Peggy flushed, her fingers curling tightly around the edge of her shawl.

“Well,” Peggy began, determined to redirect the conversation, “if you will not stay the night, then I insist you join us for dinner before you return to town. I shan’t take no for an answer.”

Anna’s grin widened. “How formidable you’ve become, Peggy. I suppose there is no arguing with a Duchess.”

“None whatsoever,” Elizabeth agreed, her eyes sparkling with affection. “We would be delighted.”

“Splendid,” Peggy said, feeling a flicker of excitement. The house had felt oppressively quiet since her arrival, and the prospect of a lively dinner was a welcome one. “I shall have everything prepared to perfection.”

Her sisters exchanged a knowing look, and Elizabeth took Peggy’s hand briefly. “It will be wonderful, I am sure,” she said gently.

After bidding her sisters farewell, Peggy wasted no time in seeking out Mrs. Hallewell . She found the ever-efficient housekeeper in the kitchens, her brisk movements commanding the attention of the household staff as they tended to their daily tasks.

“Mrs. Hallewell,” Peggy called, her voice carrying just enough authority to be heard without startling.

The housekeeper turned, smoothing her apron as she approached. “Your Grace,” she said with a respectful nod.

“I wish to host a dinner,” Peggy began, clasping her hands together. “My sisters will be attending, and I should like it to be... memorable.”

Mrs. Hallewell’s expression did not waver, though Peggy thought she detected a faint softening at the corners of her mouth. “Very well, Your Grace. I shall have Cook draw up a menu for your sampling and approval.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Hallewell,” Peggy said, her relief evident in the slight loosening of her posture. “I appreciate your efforts.”

The housekeeper turned to leave, her steps precise, but she paused at the doorway and glanced back. “I trust Your Grace had a restful night after the milk?”

Peggy blinked, momentarily taken aback by the unexpected question. The woman’s tone, though still formal, held a trace of genuine concern that caught Peggy entirely off guard.

“Oh,” Peggy said, recovering quickly. “Yes, thank you. It was most helpful.”

Mrs. Hallewell nodded once, a faint gleam of satisfaction in her eyes. “Very good, Your Grace.”

As she turned and disappeared through the doorway, Peggy stood still for a moment, reflecting on the brief yet startling glimpse of humanity in the otherwise stoic housekeeper. It was a small thing, perhaps, but it left her feeling unexpectedly heartened.

“I am afraid we must manage without Lady Aleshire today,” Mrs. Pattons announced, her tone brisk as she addressed the gathered ladies.

Peggy glanced up from the parchment in front of her, her brow furrowing slightly. “Without her? Is she unwell?”

Mrs. Pattons leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur. “Not unwell herself, Your Grace, but she has traveled to visit her daughter in Hertfordshire. The poor babe has taken ill.”

Peggy’s chest tightened with concern. “Her daughter’s child?” she asked softly.

“Indeed,” Mrs. Pattons confirmed with a solemn nod. “The young Viscountess delivered some months ago, and this is her first—a son, the heir. Naturally, the family is beside themselves with worry.”

“Oh, how dreadful,” Peggy murmured, her fingers curling tightly around her pen. “I do hope the little one recovers swiftly.”

Mrs. Pattons patted Peggy’s hand lightly, the gesture more maternal than Peggy had expected. “As do we all, Your Grace.”

Before Peggy could respond, Mrs. Pattons added, almost offhandedly, “Lady Aleshire did, however, make one specific request before her departure. She has asked that you take charge of today’s meeting in her stead.”

Peggy blinked, her mouth parting in surprise. “Me?”

“Yes, indeed,” Mrs. Pattons replied, her voice filled with approval. “She spoke most highly of your sharp mind and keen sense of organization.”

“Oh my,” Peggy said faintly, a blush rising to her cheeks. Yet, despite her initial hesitation, she straightened in her chair, resolved to take the responsibility in stride. “I am, of course, glad to assist in any way I can.”

The meeting continued with animated discussions about the allocation of funds and the selection of projects, Peggy diligently guiding the proceedings as best she could. She was beginning to find her rhythm, her confidence growing with each passing moment, when Mrs. Pattons leaned toward her once more, her voice low but distinctly audible.

“This is an excellent distraction for you, Your Grace,” she remarked with a smile that bordered on conspiratorial. “Lord knows, with a husband like yours, a woman would need all the diversions she could find to maintain her sanity.”

The words struck Peggy like a sudden gust of icy wind. Her hand froze mid-note, her heart giving a startled thump against her ribs. Slowly, she turned to Mrs. Pattons, her eyes wide with disbelief.

“I beg your pardon?” Peggy managed, though her voice was softer than she intended.

Mrs. Pattons, entirely oblivious to the impropriety of her comment, waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, I mean no offense, Your Grace. It’s just that the Duke’s reputation precedes him, does it not? One hears whispers, of course, but it must be quite a trial.”

Peggy’s pulse quickened, her grip tightening on the pen until her knuckles whitened. Was this truly how they saw him? Her husband, a man burdened by his own sorrows and shadows, reduced to a figure of dread and speculation?

She forced herself to exhale, setting her pen down with deliberate care. “I find your words most surprising, Mrs. Pattons,” she said evenly, though her tone carried a distinct edge. “His Grace has ever conducted himself with honor and dignity in my presence.”

Mrs. Pattons flushed, her expression faltering for the briefest moment. “Oh, of course, Your Grace. I did not mean to suggest otherwise.”

Peggy offered a tight smile, her mind swirling with questions and unease. She returned her attention to the parchment, but her thoughts remained stubbornly fixed on Mrs. Pattons’s comment.

Was this the perception she would have to combat, both for her own sake and Morgan’s? And how much of it, she wondered uneasily, was rooted in truth?

Peggy’s eyes darted around the room, her gaze searching the other ladies’ faces as though they might silently offer her an answer—or a reprieve from the moment. Instead, she found only stunned silence, their expressions mirroring her own astonishment. Wide eyes, parted lips, the slight shifting in their seats. They were as taken aback as she was. No one, however, dared to speak.

Peggy straightened her spine, forcing composure into her voice, though her heart still beat a frantic rhythm against her ribs. “Let us continue,” she said, her tone firm but quiet.

The meeting resumed, though the air between them was taut and stifling. Even the rustling of papers seemed too loud, the voices too subdued. Peggy nodded along to the discussions, contributed when required, and maintained the facade of calm, but the sting of Mrs. Pattons’s comment remained. Her mind churned restlessly, replaying the words and the insinuations they carried.

When the meeting finally concluded, Peggy exchanged polite farewells, her smile brittle, her voice devoid of its usual warmth. The other ladies offered kind regards and curtsies, their gazes lingering on her, filled with sympathy or discomfort she could not bear to decipher.

By the time she arrived home, Peggy was scarcely aware of her surroundings. She barely noticed the soft click of the front door as it closed behind her or the muted voices of the servants exchanging pleasantries in the hall. Her steps were measured, precise, as she ascended the stairs to her chambers, but her thoughts swirled like a storm.

Mrs. Pattons’s words echoed incessantly: With a husband like yours... The audacity of the comment!

Is this how the world sees him? Is this how they see me? Is there truth in what she said?