Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

“ O ne week. One week, Gabriel, she has been in that house, and you will not believe the changes she has enacted.” Theodore practically threw himself off the horse.

Drenched to the bone, for the rain had surprised them on their horse ride back to his house, Theodore shook the water off his hair and flapped his frock coat to get rid of the excess droplets.

A deep chuckle sounded far behind him, and he turned around to see Gabriel stepping down from his own horse in a much more controlled manner.

“You said yourself you had given her permission to change the house.”

“I had to,” Theodore grumbled. “What kind of jailer would I have been to take a bride, sentence her to isolation in the house, then tell her she couldn’t change a single cushion cover? I’m not such a monster.”

One of Gabriel’s hooked eyebrows raised higher, in silent question.

“I’m not,” Theodore insisted. He walked away toward the stable door but was reluctant to step out again into the rain.

The nearest door into his house was across the courtyard, only the cobbled ground of the yard was now awash with puddles. One stable boy ran past so quickly to hide inside, that he nearly slipped. Fortunately, he narrowly avoided falling flat on his back and made it safely into the house.

Gabriel reached Theodore’s side, still with that amused smile in his expression.

“What has she changed then?” Gabriel asked, his voice more patient than his expression suggested.

“The parlor has changed completely.” Theodore shook his head. “She has made the walls a dusky sort of pink. Pink , Gabriel. The furniture is now all dark mahogany. The bill landed on my desk yesterday.”

“Was it so bad?”

“Not as bad as it could have been, no,” Theodore muttered, though he wished he could be irritated this as well.

The longer Margaret was in his home, the more irritated he found himself becoming on a daily basis. It wasn’t just this enforced, shared breakfast with her, but the knowledge that around whichever corner he turned, she could be there.

In one week, all the staff seemed to be her best friends. Even when Yates came to give Theodore his tea or assisted him with the carriage, he sang Margaret’s praises. It was very annoying.

It didn’t help matters that whenever Theodore saw Margaret, she was smiling.

She really does have a very pretty smile. It’s incredibly irritating.

“There’s also the dining room. She has taken down all the landscape paintings in that room and has asked if we can commission a portrait of her sisters to go up instead.”

“What is so wrong with that?” Gabriel asked, now also peering out at the rain in an uncertain way. “That room has always been so impersonal. It would be a way to give the room a deeper meaning. Are the walls being changed, too?”

“Yes, they are. She’s asked for the damask walls to go and for it to be painted cream. She lined up the ornaments over breakfast the other day and asked me to point out all the ones that I liked. We’d keep those and she’d get rid of the rest. There is barely anything left in the room!”

“It sounds to me as if she gave you the choice to keep anything you wanted.” Gabriel elbowed him, trying to get him on side, but Theodore refused to be cheered.

“It’s too much,” Theodore said sharply. “It’s my house.”

“It’s hers, too.” Gabriel lost his smile. “Maybe it is just a marriage in name and nothing more, Theodore, to you, but in the eyes of the law, Margaret has nothing but you. She has no home but yours. How else would you have the poor woman live?”

“You’re just protective of her because she’s your sister-in-law,” Theodore muttered uneasily.

“Perhaps so, but you should be more protective of her as she’s your wife.”

Theodore rather felt as if he had been kicked in the stomach. Angered that Gabriel was reminding him of his duties, he huffed, rather like one of the horses in the stable, then strode out into the rain and across the cobbled courtyard, with Gabriel close behind on his heel.

They said nothing as they entered the house. They both shed coats which were quickly taken by Yates, who seemed to be holding onto a small smile as he struggled to lift his gaze to meet Theodore’s. Now recognizing the mischievous look that Yates had been holding onto every day for the last week, Theodore sighed.

“What has she done now?” he addressed Yates.

“Nothing much. It’s just a small change.”

“What change?” Theodore grunted.

“Erm…” Yates didn’t need to answer though.

Some distance back in the corridor, Margaret walked through, heading for their drawing room. Behind her was a draper, who carried such sublime white curtains on his shoulder, Theodore feared how much they would cost.

He watched, his jaw dropped as Margaret led the draper into the drawing room.

“Curtains?” Theodore asked. “She’s changing the curtains?”

“Just one set of curtains.” Yates held up a single finger. “Did you wish to object, Your Grace? I can pass on a message if you like?”

“Ahem.” Gabriel cleared his throat.

Already finding his anger near boiling point, Theodore turned to look at his friend.

“What?” he muttered, knowing it was Gabriel’s way of saying he wished to speak.

“You surely would not use your staff to pass on messages to talk to your wife when you could talk to her yourself?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t do that,” Theodore snapped under his breath. He stepped forward, intent on going into the drawing room and asking exactly how much more Margaret did intend on changing in this house. He moved so far before he realized such a conversation would mean talking to her.

I’d have to talk to her outside of our usual breakfast conference.

He’d become accustomed to managing their breakfasts together throughout the week now. They were often spent quietly, with him reading the newspaper and Margaret reading a book. Once or twice, they talked about the news of the day or what she read, but that was about it.

He had avoided any sort of heated discussion or disagreement with her, well aware that the one morning she had become impassioned when she spoke, the day she had breakfasted in his study, he had been incredibly distracted. With Margaret’s bold behavior, her pinkened cheeks and the way she looked at him with challenge, she could be a much bigger distraction than he had banked on.

Turning on his heel, Theodore walked back past Yates and Gabriel.

“Changed your mind?” Gabriel said with a knowing smile.

“Yates, we’ll have tea in my study,” Theodore pleaded. “And you can stop with that mischievous smile.”

Such a task seemed so impossible for Yates to accomplish that he actually covered his mouth up.

“This is ridiculous,” Margaret muttered as she put down another of Louisa’s letters.

A week and a half she had been at the house, and she had written most days to invite her sisters to come to tea. Come what may though, there was always some excuse, some reason they were not coming.

Finally, in this last letter from Louisa, she had revealed a little more as to why they kept turning down the offer.

“… father thinks it important we do not disturb your honeymoon period just yet. We shall visit soon, in time…”

Margaret folded up the letter and discarded it as she poured herself a cup of tea and looked out of the garden room at the blooming flowers beyond the windows, bearing with the heavy rain. It seemed that her father was controlling her sisters’ answers, refusing to allow them to visit just yet.

Just how much use can I be to my sisters if he will not let them come?

A figure walking through the garden. They moved so suddenly that, in surprise, Margaret dropped the teacup.

“Ouch,” she muttered at the heat spreading down her lap, though distracted, she watched the figure.

It was Theodore. He seemed to notice her looking through the window. As he went off on another of his walks, as he seemed to do most days through the estate, he looked at her for a long time. In fact, the connection of their gazes stretched so long that it was more than a little… odd.

Then he was gone. Disappearing between hedges and flowers, Theodore vanished, and Margaret was much more acutely aware of the burning pain on her leg now. She dabbed at it with a handkerchief when Mrs. Lancaster appeared in the doorway.

“Your Grace, an accident? I’ll have Betsy arrange for a new dress for you.”

“That will not be necessary.” Margaret smiled, but didn’t want to put Betsy to such trouble. She also knew that she was running out of dresses.

Though Betsy and the other maids were quick with the laundry, Margaret had seen more than once how some of the maids pointed at her fraying gowns. Rather reluctant to ask Theodore for money for new clothes, she had decided to carry on as she was for now.

Besides, am I not spending enough money on the house and making it a home?

She would just have to go through all the fraying dresses she had.

“Mrs. Lancaster, where does the master go walking every day?” Margaret gestured beyond the window as she topped up her teacup, hoping this time to drink it instead of throw it down herself.

“I believe he takes different routes across the estate, but to go walking in all this rain.” Mrs. Lancaster shuddered, clearly in fear of the cold and damp. “He must be quite determined.”

“Yes, determined to escape the house,” Margaret muttered quietly. “Or me,” she muttered even quieter still, so only she could hear her own words. “Are there any rooms in this house he particularly likes? Apart from his study of course.”

“Likes?” Mrs. Lancaster looked around sharply. “I am not convinced he likes his study that much, Your Grace. It is somewhere he retreats to.” She pinkened, as if she had rather thought she revealed a secret, then hurried forward to clear away the tea-stained napkin that Margaret had discarded on the tray.

“Is there anywhere in this house he likes?” Margaret asked curiously. She stood, dabbing at the wet gown as she moved to the window, trying to catch another glimpse of Theodore in the garden.

She could just about see his head moving through the flower borders. Far from escaping deep into the estate, he was walking around the house, keeping to the gardens.

“It is not my place to say, Your Grace,” Mrs. Lancaster said dutifully.

“Mrs. Lancaster.” Margaret sighed and turned to face her. “Your loyalty to him and his secrecy does you credit, but I only ask so I can know him better. That is all.” She shrugged, feeling rather helpless.

Mrs. Lancaster’s manner softened at once.

“I believe he has a fondness for the library, my lady.” She coupled this with a curtsy and left the room swiftly.

Sensing an opportunity, Margaret took another sip of her tea then left it behind, taking off in the direction of the library. As she entered, she found this side of the house even grayer than the garden room. With so much rain and gray skies outside, barely any light seemed to filter in at all.

Reaching for candles, Margaret lit them hurriedly and placed three candles around the room so she could take in the view.

With mahogany wood so dark it was almost black, the stacked shelves of books gave a moody feeling to the room. Yet the books themselves were a contrast. Not only were the dark leather-bound books, but brightly colored fabric covers, too.

On a table nearby, there were books piled neatly. Every single shelf was aligned so that the titles were listed alphabetically. Even a nearby writing bureau was well stocked with quill pens and ink, all lined up in a row. There were peacock feathers and falcon feather quills, all protruding from a stand.

The room was not only subject to Theodore’s excessive neatness, but a testament to his love of the place. It was the only room that had felt remotely personal.

A door shut.

At the sudden sound, Margaret whipped around.

A glass door which led straight out onto the terrace garden had been opened and closed. Standing on a door mat, dripping onto the floor, was Theodore. He was halfway shrugging his wet tailcoat off when he noticed her and froze.

“I’m surprised.” She gestured to his tailcoat. “I would have thought you too neat to bring the rain into such a fine room.”

He didn’t answer her, but folded the coat up as neatly as was humanly possible then laid it across the back of a wooden chair. He didn’t move off the door mat, leading her to wonder if he was struggling to choose between leaving muddy footprints across the floor or taking his shoes off in front of her.

His neat and ordered mind must hate the idea of both options.

“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” She gestured to him in the room. Just as usual, he had brought with him the cold and silent air he dragged into every room.

I do not think I am welcome in here anymore than I am his study.

“I’ll leave you to your peace.”

“Were you intending on changing this room as you have done the rest?” His voice was strangely piqued.

Slowly, Margaret turned back to face him. Her eyes widened as she took in his pinkened expression.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You have changed so much in the space of a week and a half.” He shook his head jerkily. “Will you change it all? Will nothing be left?”

“Oh, I see.” She faced him fully. “Have I irritated you, Theodore?” He stared blankly at her, his eyes narrowing. “Come, come, why the silence when you clearly have so much that you’d like to say. Have I annoyed you?”