Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

M r. Livingston, stout and pinch-faced, set three more letters enclosed with a waxed stamp on the duke’s desk. “More messages, Your Grace,” the butler said, “from the House of Lords. It seems this new Season of Parliament is in need of your expertise.”

Matthew sighed, leaning back in the chair that creaked with age. After spending the day in London, returning to Garvey that morning, he was only left with more work to be done. “I don’t have time for Parliament.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they made you more time, Your Grace.”

“Very funny, Mr. Livingston.” Matthew leaned back forward, looking over the paperwork in preparation for the upcoming tax collection. “Was that all to arrive?”

“No, Your Grace,” the butler replied, setting a few more envelopes down on the desk. “Lady Tollock has sent another letter, as well as some lords from the clubs they respectively sponsor.”

Matthew groaned.

“You are quite popular this Season, Your Grace.”

“That’s what happens when you get a wife,” he snapped.

“Would you like me to fetch the duchess for you?” Mr. Livingston asked. “It is still early in the day. I’m sure the ladies still sit at breakfast.”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Matthew grumbled. “The messages will just have to wait. Not that I have any urgency to attend another one of Lady Tollock’s frivolous balls or spend my money in a decrepit saloon.”

“And why must the House of Lords wait, Your Grace?” the butler asked, thoroughly amused.

Matthew stood from his desk, unaware of Mr. Livingston’s teasing. “Well, they’re foolish enough to think I agree with anything they’d say. Now, to get in my pockets they’d… ” his words trailed off as he looked at the butler’s expression. “You were just mocking me, weren’t you?”

Mr. Livingston cleared his throat. “I meant no disrespect, Your Grace.”

“I know,” Matthew scoffed. “Poke all you want. Won’t change the fact you’ve been at my side since before I was even born.”

A hearty laugh came from the older man. “Haven’t heard that humor of yours in quite some time.”

Matthew frowned, collecting his papers. “Lucy’s home?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Mr. Livingston said with a sigh.

“And now I have a wife,” Matthew continued.

“Nothing has to change until you are ready for it to,” Mr. Livingston interjected. “You are the duke, the lord of this house. Not only that, but there are tenants and villages to look after. Lucy’s return gives the duchess someone to teach and guide.” The butler smiled at Matthew. “Do not force yourself to do anything if you do not want to.”

Matthew raised an eyebrow at the butler. “What on earth does that mean?”

Mr. Livingston chuckled to himself, shaking his head. “Never mind that, Your Grace.” He gestured towards the study door. “Mr. Dixon will be arriving within the hour for tax collection.”

Startled, Matthew looked up at the clock sitting on the mantel below the stern portrait of his father. In the gaze of the old duke, he suddenly felt ridiculed and small, as though everything he did business-wise at that desk was wrong. He sighed.

“Prepare my carriage, Mr. Livingston.”

The butler bowed his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”

As Mr. Livingston left the study, Matthew grabbed his coat and followed, papers held beneath his arm. Though his stomach grumbled for a larger breakfast, he walked by the smallest dining room in the manor, where voices and laughter were carried down the hall. Matthew kept his pace as he marched by, only catching a glimpse of a trio of women sitting alongside each other and eating.

Matthew paused in the foyer to button his coat when he heard light footsteps approach from behind him.

“Your Grace.”

He turned, bowing his head at his wife, Alicia. “Your Grace,” he stiffly said.

“Might I have your attention for a moment?”

Matthew sighed, looking over his shoulder toward the front doors. “It is rent collection day, and I cannot be late.”

“Don’t you leave with your advisor?” Alicia asked. “I haven’t seen him arrive yet.”

He looked back over to her. “How could you possibly know that?”

“I pay attention, Your Grace,” she said, a glint in her eyes that showed she took offense to his attitude. “As he is not yet here, might I have a word?”

“Yes, of course,” Matthew replied through clenched teeth.

“Ever since you told me to learn about my duties as the Duchess of Garvey,” she began, talking with a practiced confidence, “I have spent time every day with Ms. Crawford, learning the functions of the household.”

“I’m glad.”

“And I believe I know enough to plan and prepare a ball at the townhouse in Mayfair. We have gone over finances and the labor, and discussing ideas with your skilled cook. I would like to go into the city and have a new dress tailored for Lucy, as I have already confided in her about?—”

“You what ?”

Alicia froze and her face flushed into a porcelain pale. When she spoke again, it was slow and methodical. “I spoke with Lucy?—”

“Without my inclusion?”

She furrowed her brow at him. “Are you saying I need your permission to talk to her?”

“No!” Matthew angrily snapped, feeling the pressure rise in his throat. “You need permission to hold a ball. You need permission to discuss such matters with my sister. You need permission to decide something that affects me. You need permission?—”

“I understand, Your Grace!”

“You clearly don’t,” Matthew barked as he took a step closer to her till he looked directly down upon her. “What gave you the idea to hold a ball?”

Alicia refused to meet his gaze. “Lucy struggles to adapt to societal life without actually seeing it.”

“That is why she has a governess.”

“Miss Ayles is not?—”

“Do you now want to have a say in who I hire?”

She scoffed at him. “No, Your Grace, but I am here.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“How can you possibly know what good that governess does if you don’t put in any effort to talk to Lucy? To see what she is learning?”

Matthew glared down at her. “If I remember correctly,” he snarled through clenched teeth, “you were talking of a ball , not how I treat my sister.”

Alicia exhaled deeply, closing her eyes as if to contain herself. “Your Grace,” she said, her voice still and calm, “I wish you might consider having a ball at the townhouse. There is no need for anything lavish, anything like what Lady Tollock might offer in London. What I ask is for an evening to show the ton that I am the Duchess of Garvey; for Lucy to have something to look forward to, to work towards!”

“Lucy spends enough time at the Mayfair townhouse to see all London has to offer,” Matthew said.

“Not London, Your Grace,” she argued. “The ton.”

“Why does it matter? She will have her debut when she is ready.”

“You know her better than me,” Alicia said, “but even in my limited time alongside Lucy, I know how hard it will be for her to be entered into society.”

“Why,” he sneered, “because of your feral sister? Do your fears of your sister’s debut now taint the future of my sister?”

She stepped back. “Feral?”

“With her hounds and such,” he said with a shrug.

Alicia shut her eyes once more. “That was unkind, Your Grace.”

Matthew did not need her to say it for him to know. He lashed out with his venom tongue to get her to stop, to turn away from him and give up. “You do not need to press your fears of your sister upon my own. If it worries you so much, go to Egerton and arrange a ball for Lady Penelope.”

“That is not what I meant at all, Your Grace,” she whispered, looking exhausted.

“Is it wrong for me to not want the ton in my home?” he snapped.

Alicia met his gaze. “Are you against it so much just for that reason?”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“The only one who holds this wall up between the world and Garvey is you, Your Grace,” she said. “It does not have to be this way. Ghosts and memories and secrets do not need to haunt your halls. They do not need to haunt you.”

“Do not try and romanticize my decisions,,” Matthew sternly said. “If I do not want a ball, there will not be a ball. This is a private home, and as the duchess, you should do well to respect that.”

Before Alicia could say anything else, the doors to Garvey swung open, and a tall, slender man wearing a neat suit was invited inside. He tipped his hat towards the duke.

“Ah, Mr. Dixon,” Matthew called out.

“Do you need a few more minutes, Your Grace?” Mr. Dixon politely asked. He tipped his hat toward Alicia this time. “A pleasure, Your Grace.”

Alicia nodded her head to him, but did not speak.

“Not at all, Mr. Dixon,” he said. “There are taxes to be collected.” He looked at Alicia once more, but she did not meet his gaze — not that he expected her to. “I will be back this evening.”

Matthew marched toward the door with his advisor in tow, and willed himself not to look back at his wife before shutting the manor doors behind him.

In the evening, as the sun began to set and money was counted, Alicia slowly made her way to the duke’s study. Dinner was being prepared, and would be ready within the hour, but a tug within her told her to speak with Matthew before, when they could be alone. Despite her racing heart, Alicia rapped her knuckles against his door, pushing it open when he gave a short sound.

Matthew abruptly stood from behind the large desk when she entered, his white sleeves bunched up at his elbows. “Alicia,” he said, surprised, before clearing his throat and standing up straight. He dug a hand through his hair, smoothing it down. “Your Grace,” he said, calmly this time, “I will be at dinner.”

“I–I know, Your Grace,” Alicia replied. She took a few steps into the room, closing the study door gently behind her. It smelled of wood and fire. “Was this your father’s study?”

“It was,” he said quietly.

Alicia knew she caught him off guard, coming in when he was clearly distracted. Perhaps it could work in her favor. When she looked back at him, all she could see was an exhaustion that weighed him down. “Are you well, Your Grace?”

“Of course. It was merely a long day in the villages.”

“Right,” she said. “Did it all go well?”

“Are you—” Matthew paused, raising his eyebrows, “—discussing finances with me?”

Alicia crossed her arms. “Would that be an issue, Your Grace?”

“It is nothing for you to concern yourself with. The collection went well; it is why Mr. Dixon accompanies me. There is nothing of it that should be of importance to you as the Duchess of Garvey.”

She laughed to herself. “I admit I did not come to ask you of the finances, Your Grace. I only wished we could put aside our previous grievances with a young lady around.”

Matthew frowned. “Do you mean your insistence of a ball?”

“I mean your argumentative nature of it,” she said. “I don’t understand why every conversation we have turns into something of a fight.”

“I don’t think it turns into a fight.”

“And there,” she said with a disbelieving laugh, “you wish to argue with me once more!”

“Duchess… ”

“I only want for things to be civil between us,” she interrupted. “For us to have a companionship that is built on a friendship, where we can rely on one another. That if you need to talk?—”

“Why must I always talk?”

“I–I don’t understand what you mean, Your Grace.”

Matthew straightened his vest, walking around the desk till he stood directly in front of her. “Why is it that you insist I talk to you about everything and anything? Do you not like to be left out? Or is it because you think I am wounded, something you can heal or put back together?” He laughed to himself. “I do not need friendship. If there is nothing else I might assist you with, I’ll see you at dinner.”

Alicia watched as he bowed his head, and walked back toward his desk, taking a seat behind it and looking back over his work. She stood there, silently, just staring at him till she realized he was not going to pay her any more attention. Alicia sighed, not feeling the fire within her to keep trying that evening.

As Alicia left the study and walked back to her room to get ready for dinner, she thought about her mother’s words from so long ago, on the day of her wedding.

“It is up to you to make this into something that feels like going home.”

When Alicia entered her room, Juliet was already waiting for her, brush in hand. Alicia sat in front of a mirror as the lady’s maid pinned and twisted her long hair up for dinner.

“Juliet,” Alicia began, “what do you remember of the duke’s temper?”

“Temper?”

“His anger. Have you seen it before?”

“No, Your Grace,” Juliet replied. “The duke is respectful, always.”

“And the duke before him?”

“I have told you before, Your Grace,” she said, “I never knew them before I was hired.”

“But there was nothing you heard?”

Juliet sighed. “It does not feel right to say such a thing about the dead, Your Grace.”

An uneasy silence filled Alicia’s room. She kept herself quiet as she prepared for dinner, and watched as her lady’s maid left with a silent bow. Alicia made her way to the dining room not too soon after, wondering how long it would take for her to no longer be a stranger in Garvey’s halls.

As Alicia got closer to the dining room, animated voices echoed down the hallway.

In the room, dimly lit by candles, Matthew and Lucy stood near the threshold, and they talked as though they were reunited long-lost siblings. Alicia waited up the hall, watching as her husband looked the most lively she had ever seen him in their short time of knowing each other.

“Haven’t you ever seen a hound, Lu?” Matthew was asking.

Lucy laughed, covering her face in embarrassment. “I thought I had! What do they look like?”

“They’re large beasts, with long ears,” he paused to pinch her earlobe, pulling a series of giggles out from behind her hands. “And spots, like your freckles.” As she spread her fingers to take a peek at him, Matthew poked some of the brown spots that decorated her nose and cheeks. “And their snouts sag,” he added, frowning obnoxiously to look as though he had a long face.

Lucy dropped her hands and laughed boisterously. “Like the cook!”

“Yes,” he laughed with her. “Like Mrs. Barker.”

Alicia leaned against the wall, astounded at the interaction. Behind them, she caught a glimpse of Miss Ayles in the dining room, watching them with a wary and cold eye.

“Alicia said we could arrange a meeting with Lady Penelope,” Lucy said once her laughter subsided. “Might I meet her hounds then?”

“If the duchess said it to be so,” he replied.

Alicia felt a blush climb up her neck.

“Have you met them?”

“Briefly,” he said with a laugh. “I believe one is named Titus.”

“Titus!” Lucy repeated in a deep voice, her hands on her hips. “A strong name!” She held her chin up high, and furrowed her brow. “Titus,” she said again. A burst of laughter shot out from her mouth.

“A hunting dog needs a strong name.”

“What do they hunt?”

Matthew shrugged. “Rabbits, or deer probably.”

“I hope they don’t hunt,” Lucy whined. She suddenly reached for Matthew, grabbing his wrist with both hands. “Do you remember when Father went out hunting, and we would go scavenge for acorn hats left by the squirrels? And when we had a whole slew of them, mother would?—”

“That’s enough, Lucy,” Matthew suddenly snapped, his voice raised.

The girl shrunk backward till her back pressed against the wall, eyes lowered. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Matthew huffed. “You get too excited.”

She cowered even more.

Alicia stepped forward, reaching out with her hand towards Lucy without even thinking.

With barely a second passing, Matthew’s head turned in her direction, and as his eyes adjusted to the shadows, he glared. “Don’t you have better things to do than eavesdrop, Your Grace?”

Before she could reply, Matthew looked back at Lucy and the governess waiting for them in the dining room. He bowed. “Forgive me,” he said through clenched teeth, “but I will not be joining you for dinner this evening.”

Alicia scoffed. “Your Grace.”

“Goodnight,” he snapped before storming off past Alicia and into the darkness of Garvey’s halls.

Lucy sulked into the dining room, taking her seat beside the governess as Alicia sat across from them. The meal began quietly, with food being served and Miss Ayles eating without a care in the world. Alicia poked and prodded with her meal, glancing every now and then at Lucy.

The young girl’s face slowly changed as the minutes went by, till soon it seemed as though nothing could have ever happened.

“Might we have our lessons outside tomorrow?” Lucy asked her governess.

“As long as there is no rain,” she replied.

Lucy groaned. “It would be better in the rain!”

Miss Ayles eyed the girl before rolling her eyes and looking back at her plate.

“Lucy,” Alicia began, “is it normal for you and the duke to be like that with each other?”

“Like what?”

“Happy siblings one minute,” she paused, tilting her head, “angry and sad the next.”

Lucy stiffened under her gaze. “You have siblings, don’t you?”

Alicia nodded.

“Then how is it any different?”

“It’s a lot different, Lucy,” Alicia said with a sad smile. “It can be different. If you could just talk to me?—”

“I believe,” Miss Ayles interjected, “dinner is a time for eating, not talking.”

Alicia looked at the governess with a frown. “It is also a time of togetherness, and if,” she looked back at Lucy, “your brother was here, you’d understand that.”

“There’s nothing for you to fix, Your Grace,” Lucy said with a shrug.

“I told you to call me Alicia,” she whispered.

The young girl pushed her food around, not paying attention. “I don’t think it’s smart to come into Garvey Manor and think you can fix things.”

“I just want to understand,” Alicia said.

Lucy looked up at her. “There’s nothing to understand,” she quietly replied. “Matthew is distant, it’s just how he is.”

Alicia sighed and pulled her gaze away. Lucy was already changing the conversation, asking the governess to tell her about the lesson plan for the next day. Alicia remained then, in the present, thinking about everything she still had yet to know about her new family.