Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

T he following morning, Arabella found herself entirely disoriented. The chamber in which she had awakened was nothing like the one she had known for the last eighteen years.

The bed felt so large, as though it sought to swallow her whole when she moved. The mattress was soft beneath her back, and when she attempted to swing her legs over the bed, expecting them to land directly on a hardwood floor, she found herself dangling half a foot above the ground.

She blinked, looking around. But before she could properly situate herself, a knock sounded at the door, which swung open a moment later without her having called for the person to enter.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” a woman said.

Arabella blinked, racking her brain for the woman’s name before it came to her—Mabel, her new lady’s maid.

“Good morning, Mabel,” Arabella replied, attempting to slide off the bed, but her nightgown rode up, exposing part of her leg.

The older woman quickly shuffled forward, her head bobbing as she did so. “Do not trouble yourself, Your Grace. The bed is quite high. Here, let me fetch the steps.”

With a grunt, Mabel bent down and extracted a set of mahogany steps that had been tucked beneath the bed the evening before. Tentatively, Arabella put her feet on it, and Mabel resolutely took her hand, assisting her down.

“I take it your bed at home was not so high?” Mabel asked with a chuckle.

“No, not at all. In fact, nothing here is as it was back home. This chamber… it is overwhelming.”

Arabella glanced around. The bed loomed enormously with its large four posters and the canopy that hung down, depicting strange hunting scenes. Two armoires stood at the end of the chamber, white and adorned with golden accents that matched the chinoiserie wallpaper. The floors were polished to a gleam, and the fireplace was made of white marble.

“It is too much. Is there not a simpler chamber?” she asked.

Mabel raised her eyebrows. “But these are Your Grace’s chambers—also the late Duchess’s. His Grace was very clear that you should have only the best.”

“Right, the best,” Arabella murmured, recalling what Harry had promised her. He would look after her, ensure she had everything she needed—everything but love.

“You will grow accustomed to it soon enough. Let me know if there is anything I can assist you with. We can change the decor if you like. The wallpaper, perhaps? What colors do you prefer? What design?”

Arabella blinked, her heart beating faster as the anxiety of decision-making washed over her. “I do not know… I… Pray, why was I unable to bring my own lady’s maid from Hayward Manor?” she asked, immediately realizing her tone was more resolute than she had intended.

“I do not know,” Mabel replied, looking away. “It was His Grace’s order. I believe he thought it easier for you to have someone already accustomed to the ways of this household. But if you are dissatisfied with my service?—”

“No, no, not at all. You have been wonderful. It is just that I thought it customary for a lady’s maid to accompany her mistress. I fear it may have hurt her feelings.”

Mabel’s smile returned. “I see. Well, we mustn’t worry too much. Such is the way of things. She will adjust. But if you wish, I can speak to Mrs. Blomquist about finding her a place here.”

Arabella shook her head. “No, I think Viola will, in time, become accustomed to being my sister Emma’s lady’s maid. Emma is rather less… demanding than I am. I hope that does not alarm you.”

“Not in the least. I thrive on being needed,” Mabel assured her with a smile. “Now, shall we get you ready?” She walked over to the armoire on the right and opened it, revealing a wardrobe filled with gowns.

Arabella followed her, wrapping her arms around herself as she gazed at the row of dresses. She spotted at least three different redingotes for winter, a number of pelisses, dresses for promenading, dresses for lounging in the house, a riding habit, and a selection of other dresses. Bonnets lined the top shelf, along with boxes of ribbons and gemstones, and boxes of hair accessories lined the bottom.

“If it pleases you, we can look here,” Mabel suggested, opening the second armoire. “More dresses for formal occasions, but I had to place a few here, as they would not fit in the other one. Do not worry, your dressing room will be ready soon.”

“Dressing room?” Arabella asked.

She had a dressing room in Hayward Manor, but she had shared it with her sisters. They each had one wall for their gowns and accessories, and they had shared one looking glass.

“Yes, yes,” Mabel said, pulling open a door to the right.

Arabella peered inside and saw a large room with worn-down wallpaper. It was nearly as big as her bedroom at Hayward Manor.

“Once the renovations are finished, we will move the armoires in here, and we can hang the ballgowns over here. I think we should put all your bonnets and hats along this wall.” Mabel waved her arms, indicating where things should go.

“Indeed,” Arabella murmured. “But for now, perhaps we should…”

“You look rather pale,” Mabel noted. “Come, let us get you dressed. Pray, how often do you like to bathe? His Grace likes to bathe at least twice per week.”

“Twice per week?” Arabella repeated, finding this unusual.

She had always felt bad about asking the servants to prepare her bath, knowing they had to carry buckets of hot water from the servants’ quarters for her enjoyment.

“I do not know…”

“No matter. It will all come together in due time. Now, after breakfast, Mrs. Blomquist will wish to meet with you to go over the menu. She will want to know what you enjoy eating, and you will help her plan the week’s meals. His Grace usually dines around six in the evening.”

“Noted.”

“If you like, I can show you around the estate later. We could take one of the carriages, and I can?—”

Arabella raised her hand. “Oh, that will not be necessary. His Grace has promised to show me around the estate. I am sure we will make plans at breakfast.”

She noticed the unsettled look that crossed her lady’s maid’s face as her eyes narrowed and her lips thinned.

“I do not believe His Grace will be having breakfast with you this morning.”

“Oh,” Arabella murmured, her stomach sinking.

It wasn’t that she had particularly looked forward to breakfasting with Harry, but they were married now, and this was their first full day as husband and wife. She had assumed he would at least want to spend it with her. After all, what would it look like if a newlywed couple did not even have breakfast together on the morning after their wedding?

Especially after they had spent their wedding night apart. Would everyone in this household pity her for being the outcast, unwanted bride?

But perhaps Mabel was mistaken.

The next hour was spent preparing for the day and attending to her toilette. In the end, she selected a peach-colored gown that looked rather lovely against her pale skin. She could still hardly believe she owned so many gowns.

Her measurements had been taken shortly after the final arrangements had been made for the wedding, but she hadn’t expected such a wardrobe, even though Harry had said she would need gowns befitting her new title.

In truth, she had paid little attention when he spoke to her at all, as she had been in a state of shock about her impending nuptials. Now, she realized she had to emerge from that state of shock because this was her life now, and she had to make the best of it.

She followed Mabel downstairs to the dining room, where an elaborate breakfast had been laid out. Mrs. Blomquist, the Swedish housekeeper, was there and greeted her with a smile.

“Your Grace, I hope you do not mind, but I took the liberty of preparing a rather generous spread, since we were uncertain as to your preferences.”

Indeed, the table before her was laden with everything from porridge to rolls, an assortment of spreads, fresh fruits, meats, and cheeses. The truth was, Arabella wasn’t even hungry. In fact, she didn’t think she could manage a single bite, but she knew it would disappoint the housekeeper if she refused.

“Porridge is wonderful,” she said, sitting down and spreading a silk napkin over her lap before folding her hands in her lap.

“Is something the matter?” Mrs. Blomquist asked, glancing at Mabel with concern.

“Her Grace was under the impression that His Grace would be having breakfast with her and then showing her around the estate.”

Mrs. Blomquist’s lips formed a small ‘O.’

“I am afraid he won’t be joining you this morning—Mabel was quite right. He has taken the carriage and gone into town.”

“He has gone into town?” Arabella asked, her heart sinking.

So, Mabel had been correct. Harry meant to abandon her on her very first day in her new home.

She wet her lips and sat straighter. “I see. When can I expect him back? What are his habits?”

The women exchanged looks.

“Well,” Mrs. Blomquist began. “He typically goes into town several days a week, and when he does, he takes dinner at his club. Sometimes he dines with Sir Richard at his home, or Sir Richard comes here, but I imagine that will change now that you are here.”

“Right,” Arabella said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Well, I am sure my husband will return this afternoon, as he told me we would be viewing the estate together. Pray, would you be able to prepare flummery? I know His Grace enjoys it, and the cook was unable to make it yesterday due to the short notice, but I was informed that the maids were going to the market?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Blomquist replied. “I will have it prepared, but I am uncertain if His Grace will dine at home tonight. As I mentioned, it is his habit to dine out.”

“I am certain my husband will be here this evening. We were unable to dine together yesterday because I was very fatigued,” Arabella said, “but we agreed we would dine together tonight. So, the flummery?”

She felt the need to assert herself in her new role as Duchess.

“Of course, Your Grace,” Mrs. Blomquist replied, and then made for the door, followed by Mabel.

Arabella remained seated, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the untouched porridge before her. She heard the women walking away, but then their footsteps stopped suddenly. She frowned, wondering what had caused them to pause. She rose and moved to the door, peering out through the gap between it and the frame.

Indeed, the two women had stopped.

“The poor dear,” Mabel murmured. “I do not understand what is wrong with His Grace.”

“I imagine he wants to assert himself with her,” Mrs. Blomquist replied. “You know what has been said. They married only for convenience because the old Earl tricked the poor dear into marrying His Grace. How dreadful! She seems like a nice young lady.”

“Indeed. What some parents will do for a prestigious title… I wish I could have a word with His Grace. It is all well and good that it is a marriage of convenience, but he should at least do as he said and spend the day with her.”

Mrs. Blomquist sighed. “Yes, well, I hate to say it, but I think the chances of him coming home at all at a reasonable hour today are very slim. He’s gone to visit…” She lowered her voice so much that Arabella could not make out what was being said, no matter how hard she strained her ears.

Mabel said, “He certainly will not be back by dinner, then. What a waste—all that flummery will have to be thrown away.”

At this, Mrs. Blomquist chuckled. “I think not. The servants will have a nice dessert tonight, but the poor Duchess… I fear she will dine alone, whether she wishes to believe it or not.”

Arabella returned to her seat, her appetite now fully gone.

Who was Harry visiting? Why had he lied to her about spending the day together, and why did everyone in this house seem to pity her already?