Chapter 5

In the days that followed, William threw himself into the task of familiarizing himself with the estate, determined to understand its workings and ensure that everything ran smoothly in his absence.

That and avoid speaking to her.

With the assistance of Grayson, the butler who had served the family since before William was even born, he took a tour of the household and looked at all of the changes that had happened in one short year.

Their first stop was the kitchens, where Grayson introduced William to the head cook, Mrs. Jenkins.

It was strange how lovely the kitchens smelled. As a child, his parents, or rather, the late duke, saw food as something to eat out of necessity, but never to be enjoyed. Thus, sweet smelling cakes and fresh fruit were things he did not notice the smell of until he moved into his own lodgings. In fact, he hadn't truly tasted such a thing until he visited Stephen for the first time.

"It was a brilliant idea on her part, wasn't it?" Grayson asked, "It was as though she arrived and the kitchen staff were happy to cook for the first time."

"Yes, it is a miracle what a good head cook can do."

"Oh, this wasn't my idea, Your Grace," Mrs. Jenkins laughed gently.

His mother's then, he decided.

As they moved through the kitchens, Grayson explained the meticulous planning that went into preparing meals for the household. William listened bewildered, as again this was not something that the household had ever cared to do.

Next, they visited the servants" quarters, where Grayson introduced William to the new help that had been hired. In spite of the fact that he had questioned the need for so many people, it appeared that each one had a role and it was something they all took extremely seriously.

By the time the sun began to set, William felt as though he had gained a newfound appreciation for the changes his mother had made. Each seemed reasonable enough, and some of them were things that even he would not have thought of, and they were undoubtedly what were best for the household.

"I've always been so sure, you know," he sighed, "I thought that I knew what was best, yet my mother was never given a say in anything and she has been handling things far better than I ever could have."

"You"re doing splendidly, Your Grace, I assure you," Grayson promised, "You have time to perfect everything, but in the meantime you are handling everything far better than even your father did. It is nothing short of a miracle."

Suddenly, he saw the girl again, standing beside one of the maids, assisting her with folding linens with a gentle smile on her face. The maid seemed grateful for Olivia"s help, at least.

However, William"s expression darkened at the sight.

"She is not useless after all, then," he muttered under his breath, "Just as well. She should know her place."

"Ah, Your Grace, Olivia"s assistance is greatly appreciated by the staff," he remarked, "She has shown herself to be a compassionate and helpful presence in the household, and it was your mother's finest idea of late to have her stay with us."

William bristled at Grayson"s defense of her. Once again, it was as though those around him were seeing something that he simply could not, and he did not know what to do with that.

"I fail to see how a woman of her station could be of any use to us," he replied coldly.

He did not mean it; he would never speak of servants that way, but he simply wanted to make his feelings towards her known.

"Well, you see, Olivia"s actions speak for themselves," he countered, "She may not have been born into privilege, but she possesses qualities that would make you believe she was, all whilst remaining kind and humble. It is quite strange."

"Grayson, I couldn"t help but notice that you refer to her by her first name," William remarked, "She really ought to be addressed with a more formal title, given her position in the household. I would have thought you of all people would know that."

"I do know that, Your Grace, but it is simply a force of habit," he explained, "While it is customary to use formal titles when addressing members of the household staff, Miss Staunton has expressed a preference for a more informal approach. Well, I say expressed but she practically begged us to. ‘There is no need for airs and graces,' she said, and I simply could not refuse. None of us could."

"Is that so?" He nodded, "And why is it that she is so set on it?"

Grayson hesitated for a moment before responding.

"Miss Staunton believes that titles and formalities can sometimes create unnecessary barriers between people," he replied, his tone thoughtful, "She prefers to be seen as an equal, rather than as someone beneath notice."

"Well, she would wish to be seen as an equal rather than a servant."

"I think you are misunderstanding, Your Grace. She is not here as a servant. She helps with work, but she is under no obligation to."

William considered Grayson"s words carefully. No obligation to work. It was no wonder that she was smiling.

"Very well," he replied, "If Miss Staunton wishes to be addressed as Olivia, then so be it. But that doesn"t change the fact that she is still a guest in this household, and she will be expected to adhere to our standards of behavior."

Grayson nodded in understanding, and as they continued their journey through the halls, William wondered just how much his butler truly agreed with him.

As William continued to acquaint himself with the estate, he couldn"t help but notice even more changes that had taken place in his absence. For the first time in his life, the household seemed alive.

The gardens seemed as perfect as always, and given the fact that his mother now had free reign to do as she pleased with it, this was no surprise, but as he turned a corner he saw something that made him freeze.

A flower bed filled with tulips. They formed a perfectly shaped heart, the very same sort that he had made himself years ago.

He had been gone so long, and yet…

"She has a keen eye, doesn't she?" Grayson asked, "Your mother talked about it all the time. She would tell us all about her wonderful son and the wonderful gift he had made for her as a boy, and Olivia was completely inspired. She wanted a piece of you here in your absence, something to make your mother think of you, and it was the perfect idea."

As William reflected on Grayson"s words, a sense of appreciation washed over him. He was unsure whether to chastise her for copying his idea and thanking her profusely for guarding something that had once been so special. She wouldn't have known how short lived his gift to his mother had been, she couldn't have, but that hadn't mattered.

As he continued to explore the estate, William couldn"t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected gift she had bestowed upon them all. In her own way, Olivia had seemingly breathed new life into Bolton Manor, as well as those that inhabited it.

Her presence was everywhere. Each time their paths crossed, he couldn"t ignore the look in her eyes. She disliked him, that much was clear, but she was never cruel in the way she looked at him. It was far worse, as far as William was concerned. It was indifference, as if he was not there at all.

One afternoon, he saw her engaged in work with the gardeners, tending to the same flowers he had admired whilst talking to them and laughing brightly as they worked.

But then she saw him, and the laughter faded. She didn't hate him, he could see that, and he wondered if that could be the problem. She clearly wanted to, and given how he treated her he could hardly blame her for that, but she couldn't seem to.

It was just as well, as far as he was concerned, as he was the reason she had a place to stay in the first place. Nevertheless, she was staying there and he knew it would be better for the both of them if they could at least be civil.

Summoning Olivia to his study, William felt a sense of unease as he prepared to confront her. In truth, besides three unpleasant encounters she had not done anything wrong, but he still did not like her. If anything, he needed to talk to her in the hopes of finding out just why that was.

As she entered the room, he couldn"t help but notice the tension in her posture, as if she was keeping herself guarded.

"Olivia," he began, his voice measured as he gestured for her to take a seat, "I believe it"s time we had a conversation."

"I haven't broken any of your rules, if that is what this is about."

"No, no not at all," he replied quickly, "I only wish to talk."

"Very well, Your Grace," she nodded, taking a seat, "What is that you wish to talk about?"

"I can"t help but wonder, Olivia, what brought you here in the first place." he began.

"Your mother asked me to stay. I thought you knew that."

"I did, but I mean more so why she asked you to."

"She was alone," she said bluntly, and judging by the way she looked him in the eye as she did so he knew what she meant by that.

"Do you have family in the area?"

"No, Your Grace."

"A place you could call home, then?"

"No, Your Grace," she replied, her voice steady. "I have no family to speak of, and nowhere else to go."

William studied her carefully, searching for any hint of deception in her words.

"No family at all?" He pressed.

"No, Your Grace," she repeated, and he was rather surprised that it wasn't accompanied by a deep sigh.

He had been expecting her to laugh at him, to not take his questioning seriously, or to be cold and biting in her responses. He had not, however, expected her to answer in the way she thought he might want her to.

"Well, if you do not mind me asking-"

"They are dead, if that is what you wished to hear."

He certainly hadn't expected that.

"My apologies," he said quietly.

"It isn't nice to hear, is it?" She asked, "If you do not wish to hear such tragic stories, perhaps refrain from prying into people's lives in future."

"I do not mean to pry. I only wish to know more about you if we are to live here together."

"You specifically instructed me to avoid you, Your Grace. There is no need for us to ever be in the same room, if it is what you wish. There is no need to try and make peace with me."

"If you must know, this is for my mother."

In those few simple words, it was as though he brought out another side of her entirely. She relaxed in an instant, her shoulders dropping and her gaze softening.

"Very well, if it is for Virginia," she sighed, "What is it that you wish to know?"

"If it is not too much trouble, I wish to know your age."

"Why?"

"I would like to know whether my mum has taken in a lady that is at least of age."

"I am two and twenty, Your Grace. Most certainly of age."

"In which case, you should be married by now. Is there any particular reason why you are not?"

It was not something he asked with the intention of angering her, but he knew it likely would. Not only that, but it was quite hypocritical of him to ask. He was seven and twenty, and had no personal desire to marry either. Instead of appearing offended or flustered, however, she let out a laugh, as bright as it had been with others.

"Married, Your Grace?" She replied, "And who, pray tell, would be foolish enough to take me as a bride?"

"There are plenty of eligible suitors who would be willing to have you as their wife," he countered, "Yet you seem content to waste away here as a spinster, tending to the gardens and rearranging furniture. Do you not want more from life?"

"And what would you have me do, Your Grace?" She asked, "Marry the first man who comes along and abandon the only good life I"ve ever known?"

"Were you not happy before?"

"I had nothing before, and I do not like that you are so desperate for me to be miserable. You are not married, and yet you are content with that. Why do you find it impossible that I have the same feelings on the matter?"

He fell silent, and he saw how her face changed from concerned, to angry, to complacent.

"There you go," she sighed, "You successfully made me speak out of turn. I have now become bothersome, thus breaking a rule of yours. A grand success. You may now have me leave."

"No," he said quickly.

"No?"

"No, that was never my aim," he explained, "I hadn't wanted to do that, I assure you."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I… I do not know."

Silence fell once more. He wanted to know exactly why he cared so much, but he couldn't figure it out. What he did know was that their discussion was unpleasant and he needed to navigate to safer ground.

"I must say, the estate looks different," he remarked.

"Yes, Your Grace, I"ve made a few adjustments here and there."

"And what exactly have you changed? All I have truly seen is that everything is slightly different. I haven't seen anything specific."

"Well, the wallpapers, for one," she explained, "They were in a pretty bad state, so I took the liberty of replacing them with something a bit more tasteful, but don"t worry, Your Grace. I"ve kept the old wallpapers and such stored away."

"Why?"

"I decided that if you returned and disliked it, we could put them back. Although, I must say, they were in quite a sorry state."

"And what about my mother?" He asked, his tone cautious, "Did she have any say in these adjustments?"

"Your mother had the final say in everything I did. I would never have it any other way."

"Speaking of my mother," he said suddenly, "How is it that you met?"

"Has she not told you?"

"I have not asked her. I am asking you."

"Very well, Your Grace," she nodded, "I will tell you."