Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

M argaret smiled at her sisters. Evelina and Louisa were smiling somewhat nervously, their hands waving slowly, as Alexandra and Penelope waved with a much more eager manner.

Then the carriage door was slammed shut.

Margaret looked through the window and the white lace curtains which had been drawn nearly shut. As the carriage jerked forward, the church began to disappear, as did the sight of her sisters stood waving on the top step.

I shall no longer wake up every day to spend time with my sisters.

Swallowing around a sudden lump in her throat, Margaret turned away from the window to face the man sat opposite her.

The Duke of Thornfield was as quiet and as cold as ever. It struck her that it was rather like sitting in a carriage with a statue made of alabaster, for he moved so little. Sat on the opposite bench to her, he stared through her, not really looking at her at all, his eyes not blinking and barely breathing.

“Ahem.” She cleared her throat in the hope of catching his attention. Though he didn’t show any sign of having heard her. Venturing to speak, she tried to again to get his attention as the carriage rocked them back and forth on the journey. “Your Grace, you mentioned there were to be rules?”

“That is the first rule.” He was rather quiet as he looked up, no longer looking in her vague direction at all, but out of the window. “If we are to be accepted as a married couple, with no sense of scandal or a rushed marriage between us, then you must address me by my Christian name. You must call me Theodore.”

Margaret shifted in her seat in surprise. It was a strangely intimate thing, to call him by his first name.

“Theodore,” she softened her voice, trying it out for size. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his own throat and adjusting his tailcoat. He even knocked the boutonniere out of his lapel, though he made no effort to pick it up again.

Margaret watched it fall, wondering how symbolic those fallen petals were.

“Are there other rules?” she muttered tightly.

“Yes. We are married in the name of the law. We are both agreed on that.”

“Am I to be an ornament in your house? Just a name?” Margaret whispered, feeling a tightness constrict her chest.

“No.” He looked at her sharply. “It is your home. Do to it what you wish. Make it what you wish it to be. Yet I have two rooms in that house that is mine, and mine alone.”

“Another rule?”

“Yes.” His voice hardened as he leaned forward. “My chamber is mine and not to be disturbed. My study too is also mine.”

Margaret frowned. She knew little of what happened between a husband and a wife on wedding night, beyond what Louisa had come across in the biology books she liked to read and the occasional hints that Evelina had dropped.

All she knew was that it happened in a bedchamber, and it was something physical. It involved clothes being taken off, an intimacy taking place, and something which could lead to children.

Evelina hinted it was something… pleasurable.

Of that, Margaret knew no more, but how was she supposed to discover what this thing was exactly unless she was allowed in his bedchamber?

“Am I never to be allowed in your bedchamber?”

“No.” His voice was harsh. “There is an interconnecting door, but you shall not use it to access my room.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered miserably. “Tell me, is another rule to follow your orders?”

He frowned, but he didn’t answer her. He sat straight, moving onto other things.

“As the duchess, it will be your task to run the household. I have things set in a certain way, but you can change them. Within reason.” At his request, she quirked her eyebrows. She had a feeling asking what within reason meant could open an argument, or even harsher and colder looks. “If anyone ever asks you about me, you are not to tell them anything.”

“I beg your pardon?” She leaned forward in her seat. “What if my sisters were to ask what my new husband is like? Am I to sit there tightlipped and not tell them of my life?”

“Someone other than your sisters.” He frowned deeply. “My life is mine, it is personal, it is not for casual gossip and sharing around others. Do you understand?”

His voice had now become flinty, as if he could cut her with his tone. Feeling rather sick, she swallowed around the bile that had risen in her throat.

“I understand. I understand the world will not know you.”

“Good.” As the carriage turned, he moved his focus beyond the window again. Clearly, she was not enough to hold his attention.

It was a reminder that though this wedding was her escape from the life she didn’t want, but this was very much a nightmare the Duke of Thornfield did not welcome.

“Will I know you? Will I be allowed to know you?” she said after some minutes of silence.

“There is nothing to know.” He kept his gaze far from her.

Staring at his stoic and quiet figure, Margaret sat there with her jaw dropped. There had been a time when she wondered if the newspapers had exaggerated their stories and suspicions about him, but now, she thought that they were perhaps far more accurate than even they had realized.

The man before her was as cold as stone, in manners, conversation, and looks.

The softness he had showed when he had kissed her hand seemed a great distance away, as if it was something she had imagined once in a dream that had disappeared like vapor.

“We are here.” His voice announced their arrival.

The carriage barely halted as he opened the door and stepped down. He didn’t wait to help her down, but in his heartless way, strode toward the house, leaving Margaret staring after him.

Like a man made of shadow, he fled up the steps of his house. As he disappeared inside, her eyes landed on the house, and she gasped.

She’d heard her sisters talking about the grandness of the Duke of Thornfield’s house the last few days. They had read the gossip in the scandal sheets, but Margaret had been too apprehensive about the wedding to dwell too much on what her new home would be like in material value.

Before her was a very tall building made of yellow stone, with mock turrets on either side of the house, so that it looked like some Tudor man’s idea of a castle. Great windows sparkled in the vast sunlight of the day, each long pane glistening like an elongated cat’s eye. Vines and ivy trailed up the walls as flanked on either side of the house were high walls, leading to the formal gardens.

Judging by the sweet scents that wafted her way, those gardens were full of flowers, having had the same wealth spent on them as had been spent on the house.

“My goodness, it’s beautiful,” Margaret whispered.

A footman stepped forward and offered his hand to help her descend. She smiled her thanks, noticing the way the footman stared after his master.

“And what is your name?” Margaret said, quite determined to get to know her new staff. If this was to be her new home, then she would embrace it as much as she could, even if Theodore had made the decision to keep her at arms’ length.

“Yates, Your Grace,” the footman said with a bow.

It was the first time Margaret had been addressed with her new title. She flinched at the sound of it.

“Welcome to your new home.” He smiled broadly. “The master, he…” He trailed off, clearly struggling to explain why the Duke had run away so quickly.

“Is preoccupied?” she offered up.

“Yes, just so. I hope you enjoyed your wedding, Your Grace.” The footman gestured toward the house. “I understand the housekeeper has gathered the staff in the entrance hall ready to meet you.”

“Oh. Thank you.” Margaret felt nerves spike in her stomach, but she thrust them down and stepped forward.

She was vaguely aware that behind her, another smaller cart had arrived, carrying her cases and portmanteaus from her house. She tried not to think of how frayed and broken some of those cases were compared to the grandeur of this house. Her new staff would know within minutes of her stepping into this place that she came from a different part of society to Theodore.

Slowly, Margaret walked up the steps that led the way to the front door. On either side of the door were glistening panes of golden stained glass. The large mahogany door was open wide, beckoning her inside.

As she stepped in, she hoped, well, prayed that Theodore was waiting there for her. That he would at least do his duty of introducing her to the staff. The sight that did meet her gaze though left her with a knotted stomach and cheeks she could feel reddening in embarrassment.

Theodore’s tailcoat ends were seen flapping around the nearest door as he disappeared. Maids whispered in one another’s ear, pulling at each other’s coifs the better to hear each other, and pointing after him. The housekeeper was looking at the doorway through which Theodore had left with a scandalized expression.

The moment she noticed Margaret’s arrival, she put a smile on her face and turned to greet her. She was clearly in charge of the staff in her demure black dress, high-collared and stiff, with a chatelain at her hip, and the most expensively embroidered coif of the staff.

“Your Grace.” She stepped forward and curtsied. Despite her stiff attire, she had a friendly countenance. “Please allow me to welcome you to your new home. We are delighted to have you here.”

“Thank you. That is very kind.” Margeret fixed as false a smile in place as the housekeeper wore. “I think… my new husband has much on his mind at present.” She cleared her throat, trying not to look affected by his cold manner and his determination to run away from her. “Would you be so kind as to show me the house, Ms.…?”

“Mrs. Lancaster.” The housekeeper smiled genuinely now. “I’d love to show you around. First, let me introduce you to your new staff. This is Betsy, she shall be your lady’s maid.”

She turned to introduce a red-haired girl with very pink cheeks who curtsied so deeply she was in danger of falling over.

“Then we have Isabella, Cicely, and Maria. They are the maids for the household.” They all then curtsied in turn, too.

Mrs. Lancaster went on to introduce a whole household of staff that had gathered to greet her, including groundskeepers, gardeners, cooks and the Duke’s valet. By the time they were done, Margaret’s cheeks hurt from the effort she put into maintaining her false smile.

“Fear not, Your Grace, the names will come in time,” Mrs. Lancaster said reassuringly.

“Oh, let me try now. For I am determined to get it right.” With the whole hallway’s attention on her, Margaret began to go through them all. “Here is Betsy, Isabella, Maria and Cicely…” Then she went on, doing all the groundskeepers, gardeners, and cooks too. By the time she was done, everyone looked dutifully impressed and smiling.

“Well done, Your Grace.” Mrs. Lancaster gestured for Margaret to follow her. “You have even remembered names the master sometimes struggles to remember,” she whispered playfully.

Margaret found her smile relaxing a little. Perhaps there was a way to make this place her home, with people that she could care for, even if Theodore was going to imprison himself in silence in some remote room.

“Now, shall I give you a tour, Your Grace?”

“Yes, please. I’d like that very much.”

Margaret unthreaded the veil from the back of her head and set down the bouquet she had carried with her throughout the tour. Placing them down together in the parlor, she looked around the room, taking in the sights.

Mrs. Lancaster and Betsy were bringing in a tray of tea and biscuits, with Betsy elbowing Mrs. Lancaster to get her attention.

“Ask her yourself, child,” Mrs. Lancaster said with an indulgent child.

Sensing she was being spoken of, Margaret tore her gaze away from the fading grandeur of the room and looked at Betsy.

“Can I help?” she offered, stepping forward to assist with the tray and placing it down on a table. Both Betsy and Mrs. Lancaster stared at her wide-eyed, Betsy breaking into a beaming smile when Margaret poured her own tea. “Now, was there something you wished to ask me, Betsy?”

“Yes please, Your Grace, if it would not be impertinent to speak.” She curtsied deeply once again, so low to the ground that Margaret feared she would fall.

“You may ask me anything you like,” Margaret reassured softly. “As long as we desist with such deep curtsies. I will not have you falling and injuring yourself for something so silly as a curtsy. A nod will do just as well.”

These words made Betsy beam every more.

“Do you mind me asking, what the wedding was like?” Betsy said excitedly. “The other maids and I were so excited about it. We saw the master go off this morning in the carriage, dressed all finely. Was it very beautiful?”

Mrs. Lancaster looked as if she wished she had not indulged Betsy so far. She paled and gripped her temple behind Betsy’s back.

Margaret suspected Mrs. Lancaster would have clawed the words back out of the air if she could.

It was plain as day to Margaret from this simple view of the staff that though Mrs. Lancaster may have known or at least suspected the truth behind the hasty marriage, the lower staff did not. As Margaret looked at Besty, she was reminded of her sisters, particularly of Alexandra and Penelope.

Though Louisa was older and of a more practical mind, her younger sisters indulged in romantic fantasies.

As did I.

The thought made Margaret hesitate, but for the world she would not have destroyed young Betsy’s hopes of a beautiful wedding.

“It was very beautiful indeed,” Margaret assured her. “The church was decked beautifully in flowers, all our friends and family were gathered, and the Duke was very solicitous indeed.”

Satisfied, Betsy offered to serve up biscuits, as behind her, Mrs. Lancaster released her temple and stared across the room.

Margaret followed her gaze toward another door that was firmly shut. Margaret knew from her tour that this was one of the two doors in the house leading to Theodore’s chamber. Judging from Mrs. Lancaster’s fearful look, that was exactly where Theodore was hiding now.

“Does the Duke often spend his hours in that chamber?” Margaret asked Mrs. Lancaster as Betsy hurried off, taking the bouquet away to place it in water.

“Many hours,” Mrs. Lancaster murmured rather sadly. “He always has done. Ever since he was made Duke and his mother…” She broke off, her cheeks pinkening. “I mean, yes, for many years now. I’ll leave you to your tea.”

As the housekeeper left, Margaret stared at the study door. She had a feeling that there had been more to Mrs. Lancaster’s words, a secret, that she had stopped herself from telling.