Chapter 24

When Penelope woke up the following morning, everything seemed right. Her heart swelled with anticipation, for each of the previous three days, James had a surprise planned out for them. She smiled as she noticed another bouquet of fresh flowers adorning her bedside table, their colors as vibrant as ever. With a flutter of excitement, she wondered what other treasures the day might hold.

She called for Charlotte and got dressed quickly with their usual cheerful chatter as the welcome of a new day. She rushed down the stairs, right into the dining hall, where Grandfather was already seated with his usual morning, fortified tea.

"Ah, Penelope, my dear, you are here," he greeted, getting up ad walking over to her to kiss her hand reverently.

There was, of course, no need for that as they lived under the same roof, but he had taken it upon himself to do each and every morning, and it had become a sweet little routine they shared which brought them even closer together.

"Grandfather, good morning," she chirped back at him, gazing at the table, already prepared with breakfast delights. "What shall we partake in this morning?"

"Toast and jam, of course!" he giggled.

"Toast and jam it is," she smiled back, taking a seat.

As they continued talking about irrelevant things which, nonetheless, made her smile and be merry, she kept glancing at the door, waiting for James to appear, although she knew of his morning ritual. Somehow, she hoped that things had changed and that, as a result, some of his habits might change as well. She tried not to dwell on it for too long and instead, focused on her conversation with Grandfather. However, at that moment, the door opened and James appeared, much to everyone surprise. Even more surprisingly, he seemed moody on first glance.

"Good morning," he told them both without looking at anyone in particular.

He then took a seat by Penelope's side. She expected him to talk, to say something, but instead, he leaned to his right and grabbed the morning newspaper which he then proceeded to read in silence, as if he were alone in the entire dining hall.

"Uhm, James?" his grandfather was the first one to speak.

James lowered the newspaper only so far as for them to see his eyes which darted from his grandfather to Penelope then back at his grandfather.

"Yes?" James wondered.

"Perhaps you'd like to leave the newspaper for later," Grandfather suggested. "I always believed that mealtimes were when family got together."

"Yes, sorry, Grandfather," James agreed, folding the newspaper and focusing on the two people around him.

"Lovely," Grandfather beamed. "Now, I must say that it is surprising to see you at the breakfast table. You are usually exercising outside."

"Yes, I am," he murmured, obviously without any desire to explain.

His grandfather lifted an eyebrow. "Did something happen?"

James shrugged. "I just feel a bit tired, so I decided to have breakfast and then focus on some work afterwards."

"Yes, rest is always a good idea," Grandfather acknowledged wisely. "As is breakfast with the family. Would you like some toast?"

"Yes, please," James nodded, accepting a basket of toast offered to him and picking out a slice. "Jam?"

"Here you go," Penelope offered, wanting to ask him if they had any plans for the day, but something prevented her from doing so. Fortunately, that same something did not prevent Grandfather from doing the same thing.

"What about your plans for the day, James?" Grandfather inquired curiously. "I see that Penelope has yet another lovely gown on."

Of course, Grandfather was hinting at another surprise, but it seemed that even James was surprised to see her dressed up which she in all honesty was. There was no reason for her to believe that the shower of lovely surprises on behalf of her husband would end. In fact, she never wanted it to end.

"Yes, Penelope is indeed lovely as she always is," James agreed, as if he were commenting on the newest version of a carriage and not a woman made of flesh and blood and emotions. "However, I am afraid that I am far too busy today to be going anywhere. Unless she perhaps has made plans of her own."

"I have not," she was quick to clarify. "I… was under the impression that we would do something today... together… as we did the previous days."

"I made no such plans for today, Penelope. I am sorry if that is a disappointment to you," he said in a way he had not spoken to her before.

She wondered if she had somehow offended him. She tried to remember what they had been doing and all the things they were discussing, but nothing came to mind. They were having fun. They were enjoying each other's company. Nothing happened which could have been seen as a cause of this sudden change in his behavior. Still, it was obvious that something had happened, only she had no idea what.

"I really have to focus on work," James said gravely. Then, he got up and continued to speak. "In fact, I shall have start immediately and have my breakfast in my study instead. Please, Grandfather, have them send some toast and jam with a cup of tea to my study."

"Yes, my boy," his grandfather nodded.

Without a single word, Grandfather and Penelope watched James leave, closing the door behind himself. The moment they were left alone, they locked gazes.

"Did I say something?" Penelope wondered aloud, hoping that this wise old man might shed some light on this mystery.

"No, no, my dear," he assured her kindly.

"I don't understand," she mused, still wondering what had happened to make him act that way.

"It is probably just some business affairs that need urgent handling. He must be anxious about them," Grandfather tried to explain.

"Oh," Penelope accepted, but she wasn't reassured. Still, she appreciated the man's effort. "Well, that leaves you and me, Grandfather."

"And that is just the way I like it, my dear," he laughed quietly. "Say, why don't we both pick a book and read to each other on the veranda with a nice cup of fortified tea in our hands?"

"Regular tea for me, please," she chuckled, liking the idea.

"As you wish, my dear," he laughed. "As you wish."

* * *

James didn't come for dinner either. She did not see him all day.

Penelope knew that she was supposed to just let it go. She should have marched up to her bed chamber, and she should have gone to sleep. But no. Instead of doing what she was supposed to, she was standing in front of James' study, readying herself to knock.

Concern kept gnawing at her all day as she wondered what the reason behind this withdrawal could be. Had something happened to upset him? Was he facing troubles he couldn't bring himself to share? With each passing moment, her worry deepened until she could no longer bear the uncertainty.

She was now standing here, summoning her courage. She paused outside his door, her hand hovering over the polished wood for a moment before she gathered her resolve and knocked gently.

"James?" she called out, her voice soft, but tinged with concern. "May I come in?"

There was a moment of silence, broken only by the faint rustle of papers from within the study. Then, after what felt like an eternity, she heard her husband's voice, muffled but unmistakably weary.

"Come in," he said, his tone lacking its usual warmth and vigor.

With a heavy heart, she pushed open the door and stepped into the dimly lit room. Her husband sat behind his desk, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion, his features drawn and fatigued.

"Penelope," he said upon seeing her, "is something the matter?"

"Actually, I've come to ask you that very same question," she confessed, closing the door behind her. She then crossed the room to stand beside him. "You haven't been yourself all day. Please, talk to me."

He sighed heavily, his gaze fixed on the papers scattered before him. "I'm sorry, Penelope, but I've been preoccupied with business matters, and I fear I've let it affect my demeanor. It is nothing for you to concern yourself with."

But she could see through the fa?ade, could feel the weight of his burdens pressing down upon him like a lead cloak. With a gentle touch, she reached out to take his hand in hers, offering him the comfort and support that he so desperately needed. He allowed her touch, but a moment later, he withdrew from her.

"I can see that something is troubling you," she pleaded softly, her voice tinged with desperation.

Her husband's gaze softened at her words, a flicker of vulnerability shining through the mask of indifference he wore. For a moment, it seemed as though he might relent, might allow her to glimpse the depths of his heartache. But then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the moment passed, and his features hardened once more, his walls rising up to shield him from her reach.

"I told you it's nothing," he said, his voice a hollow echo of its former warmth. "There is just too much I have to handle."

But she refused to be deterred, refused to let him retreat into the isolation of his own thoughts. With a determined resolve, she reached out to touch his cheek, her fingertips tracing the lines of his face with gentle insistence.

"Maybe I could help you somehow?" she asked.

For a moment, his resolve wavered, his eyes betraying a flicker of longing that mirrored her own. But then, with a heavy sigh, he pulled away, his expression closing off once more as he turned his gaze to the papers scattered before him.

"I appreciate your concern," he said. "But these are things I must handle alone. Please, don't worry yourself over me. Everything is fine."

And with that, he withdrew into himself, leaving the lady standing alone in the silence of the study, her heart heavy with worry and uncertainty. She could tell immediately that she would not be drawing any new answers out of him. He had already told her what he had to say. If she pushed him for anything more, she would just be pushing him away from herself, and that was the last thing she wanted to do.

"Well, all right then," she said with a heavy sigh. "Good night."

"Good night," he replied hastily, as if he could not wait to get her out of his study.

Later, she was in her chamber with Charlotte busily undoing her hair and gown. As always, she sought solace in Charlotte's comforting presence. With a heavy heart, she confided in her trusted companion, sharing her concerns and fears in a desperate bid for understanding.

"Lottie, do you know if something has happened in the household?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "The duke has not been himself all day, and I can't shake this feeling that something is terribly wrong."

"I'm afraid that I haven't heard anything, Your Grace," Charlotte replied, her voice soft with sympathy as she brushed Penelope's hair, readying her for bed. "But I'll keep my ears open and let you know if I do."

Penelope nodded in gratitude. As the night wore on, she found herself tossing and turning restlessly in her bed, her mind consumed by worry and uncertainty. Despite her best efforts to find solace in sleep, her thoughts continued to circle back to her husband, their weight pressing down upon her like a suffocating blanket.

Try as she might, she could not banish the image of her husband's troubled face from her mind nor shake the gnawing sense of dread that gripped her heart like a vice.

What could be troubling him so deeply? And why did he refuse to confide in her, to share the burden that weighed so heavily upon his soul?