Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

T he bright sunlight was certainly unexpected, and Diana turned sharply to the side.

"Arabella, it is much too early for that," she mumbled, trying to hide her face.

But the voice that responded was not Arabella's.

"It's a beautiful day. I think the green muslin today, don't you? It looks so lovely in the spring with all the flowers. And I have always thought you look good in it."

Startled, she sat up straight, looking over at Margaret.

Her lady's maid gave her a sympathetic smile and then turned back to what she had been doing, getting Diana's clothes ready for the day.

"It has been long enough that you've been moping about in this room. Today, we shall venture about the house and see what we can find."

Margaret seemed quite firm on that, and within a short period of time, Diana found herself out of bed, dressed and ready to begin her day.

"Are you satisfied with me now, Margaret?" she asked, glancing at herself in the looking glass.

She looked presentable, she thought. Though perhaps not as fresh as usual.

"You shall do just fine, Your Grace. We shall not make any calls today, but if you receive any, you should look every bit the duchess that you are."

"Very well," Diana relented, though she did not care much for the idea of receiving visitors in her new home anyway.

"This house is quite lovely. What I have seen of it," Margaret told her. "Of course, that's not the entirety of the place, as I have only been in the rooms that you have." She gave her a reproachful look. "And the servants' quarters, of course."

"I'm not interested in traveling about," Diana mumbled.

The idea that her husband—it was still strange to even think that word—was somewhere in this house as well was even more unpleasant.

"It is not ‘traveling about,' Your Grace. It is merely moving about your own home."

"My own home," Diana scoffed. "As if he even wishes for me to think of it as such."

"It is your home, whatever he or you may think. And as such, you should spend some time getting to know the place. You will be here every Season, after all."

The very thought of that… that every Season from now on would be spent here, with Matthew…

"I cannot even imagine it," Diana replied, her tone haughty, but she couldn't hide the catch in her voice. Not from Margaret, who knew her better than anyone. Perhaps even her sisters.

"It is a sorry state of things that you are wed and your new husband is not about," Margaret admitted. "But we shall make the best of it. You have free run of the house and no demands on your time. So come, have some breakfast, and we can see what this house is about."

"Why should I go down to that room for breakfast? It is a large hall for only myself to eat in."

"Would you prefer that I have breakfast brought up to your room?"

"Perhaps I shall not eat at all," Diana huffed, knowing that she sounded petulant, but she did not care.

"You shall not waste away under my care, Your Grace," Margaret asserted. "I shall go and fetch you some breakfast, but for lunch, you shall go down to the dining room, whether you eat alone or not."

"Bring your own breakfast as well!" Diana called after her.

If she was going to be forced to eat something, she might as well not do it entirely alone. That was allowed up here, after all.

With that, Margaret strode out of the room, returning not long after with a light breakfast for each of them on a small tray.

"There now, doesn't that look lovely?" She set both trays on the small table in the sitting room and settled into her own chair. "Come now, Your Grace, it is time for us to eat."

Reluctantly, Diana sat down at the table and began to eat. Though as soon as she did, she felt slightly better. Because the food was actually quite good.

"It's not our cook's poached eggs, but it is still a satisfactory breakfast," Margaret announced.

Diana couldn't help but smile. "That is true enough," she agreed.

"Now then, what shall we do with this lovely day?" Margaret asked.

"There is nothing to do. My husband has made that very clear. I am not to do anything."

"He has given you run of the place."

"But not the ability to actually do anything. He wants me to merely sit about and be idle. And he has instructed his housekeeper to ensure that I do."

"Has he now?" Margaret's eyes narrowed in concern. "And what makes you think that?"

"She is everywhere I go."

"It is not a large house, Your Grace," Margaret cautioned.

Diana shook her head. "It is not. However, whatever room I go to, I always find her there. She will wander past within moments, straightening flowers or dusting shelves. Do you know a housekeeper who does such things? Our own certainly did not."

"Indeed, that is true." Margaret looked uncertain at that but then shook her head. "But it is no matter. What shall she say to him? That you are doing exactly as he has told you to do? That you are moving about your own home? There is nothing wrong about what you do, Your Grace. And we shall ensure that she knows you are not ashamed of being seen going about your own business."

"I am not ashamed. However, I do not like to be watched as though I were a child. And to think that she then reports back to the Duke about my movements… it is exactly that."

"What have you seen of His Grace since you moved here?"

Diana scoffed at that and pushed her plate away. "Very little. I have seen him at supper only once, and that time, he sat at the end of the table and never even looked in my direction, his face buried in his papers. I am not sure he even ate the food placed before him, let alone anything else."

"Ah, Your Grace, you need something to occupy your time," Margaret told her. "We can set up a nice corner here by the window for you to paint."

"You know I never had a hand for watercolors," Diana replied.

"That may be so, but you need something to amuse you, and perhaps it would be good. Or perhaps your embroidery."

"None have been amusements of mine in the past, merely ways of passing the time. And now that I am wed, there is no need to devote my time to them."

"Reading then, perhaps. Or riding."

"I have been riding nearly every day since I arrived," Diana pointed out, beginning to feel cross, though it was no fault of Margaret's that she was feeling lonely and bored.

With a frustrated sigh she stood and began straightening the already perfectly arranged flowers and paintings. She'd painstakingly arranged them her first morning, determined that this room at least should look beautiful. But now nothing seemed right.

"Something must be done, Your Grace. You cannot mope around your chambers and putter about the house like a ghost. It will not do," Margaret insisted.

"It is my house. If I choose to putter about it, then that's what I'll do," Diana grumbled.

Margaret merely shook her head and followed after her straightening the room again as Diana mussed everything in her frustration, finally falling silent.

But it was a conversation that they revisited the following day when, again, Margaret woke her up by throwing open the curtains.

"Another beautiful day, Your Grace," she announced.

Diana grumbled again, and Margaret tsked and shook her head.

"None of that today, Your Grace. I will not allow your moods to ruin this beautiful day."

"One beautiful day or another, what is the difference? Each day is exactly the same," Diana retorted.

Margaret fixed her with a piercing stare.

"All I do is sit in this room by myself or wander about the house. The best part of my day is when I have the opportunity to go riding. I know this house better than I ever cared to, and yet what else is there?"

Margaret shot her a shrewd look again, bringing over her gown to begin dressing her. "You are expecting His Grace to change and to make your life better, Your Grace. And yet there is no reason for him to do so. No reason for him to change in the ways that you would prefer."

"Then why should I even bother to do anything at all? Wouldn't he rather I just retreat into my rooms and remain there?"

"If you wish for things to change, then you must be the one to initiate the change, Your Grace. Nothing will change if nothing changes."

"I do not need you to speak in riddles, Margaret," Diana shot back as Margaret began to fasten the buttons on her gown.

"If you continue to mope about the house, His Grace will not change the rules. He will not change the limitations that he has placed on you. The two of you will only continue to clash each time you meet. You will be frustrated, and he will be confused, and you will both react poorly."

"And what would you have me do instead?"

"How did you go about making the changes you wished for in Waterburry House?"

"I introduced them slowly so that Mother and Father barely noticed."

"Indeed. And that subtle approach may have allowed you to gain more of what you wished for, but it also nearly led to Marigold being married off to a man not well suited for her."

"The very man that I now find myself married to," Diana muttered wryly.

"Indeed, Your Grace. But the subtle attempt that you are making now will also lead to similar misfortune."

"Then what would you have me do?"

She was curious now. If Margaret was not telling her to keep the peace, then what was she saying?

"You will need to disturb the waters a bit, Your Grace."

"You wish me to… go against my husband's wishes?"

That was even more shocking. And certainly not something she would have expected Margaret to say.

"Indeed, Your Grace. This is your home. And you have no need to ask for permission to do the things that you feel necessary to care for it."

Diana stared at her lady's maid for a long moment. This was certainly not the Margaret that she was used to. But then perhaps she was right.

"Perhaps I shall," Diana replied slowly, her mind suddenly whirling as she tried to determine just what she would do first.

"Your Grace?"

"Yes, Miss Jenkins?" Matthew asked, looking up briefly as the housekeeper brought in a tray with treats and a teapot. The same one that his mother had always used. Miss Jenkins had continued to use it to serve him tea, despite it being more suited for Diana, without saying a word about it.

He had never noticed it before. But now…

"Your tea, Your Grace. I thought you might like to know that Her Grace has decided to take a ride today. She took out one of the horses this morning after breakfast and has not yet returned."

"Very well. Thank you, Miss Jenkins."

"Also, it seems there is more artwork throughout the house. It started with half a dozen small pieces, and yet… it seems there are considerably more now."

Matthew was not entirely sure that Miss Jenkins approved of the artwork. Though he was confused that more had been added. He had specifically told Diana that she could put up her sisters' watercolors. Surely she was not going behind his back to purchase anything new.

He had not thought to give her any money or any access to his accounts, but his name and marriage were, of course, well known. It was possible that the local shopkeepers sold her artwork on credit. But then he should have received some form of bill.

Rather than enjoy his tea, he stood up and strode through the house, taking in the different rooms and halls and each of the pieces that had been placed around. Yes, there was certainly a great deal more of them than there had been not so long ago.

"Diana," he called out as she suddenly appeared at the end of the hall.

"Yes, Duke?"

"What is the meaning of this?"

"The meaning of what?" she asked, her head held high and her eyes narrowed as she stared back at him.

"These paintings. There are a great number of them throughout the house."

"Indeed, there are," she agreed.

"I allowed you to put your sisters' watercolors on the walls. Nothing more."

"These are my sisters' watercolors," she pointed out.

"Then how come there are so many, when you had only brought a few with you?"

"When you made the concession, I wrote to my sisters and asked them to send me any of the pieces that they had available. And they have obliged. As such, I have decorated the house with their watercolors, and I will continue to do so as they continue to send me new pieces."

The ingenuity of her plan did not escape him. A part of him wanted to laugh outright at her quick thinking. While another part of him was furious at her for making a fool of him.

"Very well."

He turned and stalked away. After all, there was nothing he could do about the fact that she had outsmarted him. And that thought, more than anything, made him more curious about her.

But that was only the beginning of the changes she made.

He sat bolt upright in his bed, his eyes darting around, trying to determine just what it was that had woken him so abruptly from a restful sleep.

The second thump made it clear.

Within moments, he was out of bed, immediately calling for Henry, his valet to assist him.

"What the blazes is happening here?" he asked the man as soon as he entered the room.

Henry looked away and then down at the floorboard.

"Something is going on out there. What is it?" Matthew snapped.

Although Henry was always upfront with him, he was silent now, helping him get dressed and then quickly stepping out of the way as Matthew barged into the hallway.

But what he found was not at all what he had expected.

There were men in the house.

A great number of them.

Moving things around.

Bringing in new furniture.

"Miss Jenkins!" he called out.

The housekeeper hurried over immediately, looking startled and perhaps a little fearful.

"I tried to stop her, Your Grace. I told them to take those things out, but they said that the Mistress had ordered them and that they would deliver the furniture regardless of what I say."

"The Mistress, then?" Matthew practically growled.

Miss Jenkins nodded frantically. "Yes, Your Grace."

Of course, it would have to be Diana. No one else could have ordered such things and had them added to his accounts.

For now… well, he needed to put a stop to this before she decided she could do that whenever she wished. And so he strode purposefully toward Diana's rooms to confront her.

Yet, she was not there.

And so he stalked through the house to find her. But what he found along the way was more furniture. New pieces he had not commissioned in nearly every room of the house.

Not all of the furniture was being removed, but at least something in each room. And then there were the rugs. And the artworks.

"What have you done?" he snapped as he finally strode into the room he found her in.

Diana turned, calmly, from where she was directing two workmen on where to place a chair so that she could face him.

"Ah, Matthew, how nice to see you."

Her tone certainly did not sound conciliatory. Nor even the least bit concerned. Rather, she looked steadfast. Defiant.

"What have you done?" he repeated, his eyes blazing as he stared around the room.

"I have made a few changes in the house. Things that needed updating and such. Not to worry, I've told them to put everything that is being removed into the spare room at the back of the house. If there is anything that is of importance to you, that is where you will find it, and it can be moved to the country estate."

All of that, she said with that same calm tone, while Matthew could feel his blood beginning to boil. Still, he waited as the two workmen quickly hurried out of the room before he continued.

It was not that anything held special significance. In fact, his father had always taught him not to put value in items like that. But the very idea of her moving things about…

"I informed you that you would need to get permission from Miss Jenkins or myself before making any changes to my house. Miss Jenkins is beside herself with these changes, which means she did not authorize them. And you certainly did not speak to me."

"And how could I, when you are never about?" Diana asked mildly. "You are never available for me to ask anything of you. And as this is my house too, I felt it prudent to make the changes that needed to be made. If you are going to host here, whether for business or pleasure, as the Duke, you must have an elegant home."

"My home is precisely what it needs to be," he retorted. "You were requested to leave things as they were."

"You cannot actually expect me to simply sit back and do nothing within my own home. When there are things that need doing," Diana scoffed. "And you cannot expect me to blindly obey your rules when they are nonsensical. You will not always get your way, Matthew."

"This is ridiculous," he told her, his anger still simmering as he thought of everything that she had changed in so short a time. And when he explicitly told her not to do so.

"That it is," she agreed. "And yet I have listened to your request. You did not care to make the house impractical, and so I have ensured that everything in the house is just as practical as ever. The artwork does not detract from that. And the new furniture is as functional as the old but more in fashion."

That defiant streak in her… it was infuriating him beyond belief. And yet there was nothing that he could really say because her argument was valid. At least, on that point.

"You are my wife. You are to do what I tell you to do."

"I am your wife. But I am not your servant. And I will not be treated as such," she retorted, and he scowled in response. "It will not do for us to continue on this way."

"In what way?" he snapped back.

Although he had seen many others quake with fear at his sharp tone, it elicited no reaction from her.

"With both of us griping and sniping at one another. It will only continue to cause us both headaches moving forward. And is this really what you wish for, for the rest of your life?"

It was not. Not at all.

And yet… what would it mean to acquiesce and find some form of compromise with this woman?

"And just what solution did you have in mind?" he managed to get out, his jaw still somewhat clenched, but at least he was feeling less angry.

"Perhaps we should start with you treating me as an equal instead of as a servant."

Little as he wanted to admit it, he had stripped her of her authority in this house. Just after he had told her that it was her home and she should enjoy the place.

It was a contradiction of the worst order.

"And give you free rein to terrorize the rest of the place?" he couldn't resist shooting back, and she scowled in response.

"It is my home as well, Your Grace , and I should be able to ‘terrorize it' as I see fit. If I believe that the house needs new drapes or new sofas, I should be able to do as I please to see that they are replaced. I should not have to get permission from anyone to do so. Would your own mother have done such a thing?"

Matthew stilled at the mention of his mother, his breathing shallow as he remembered her. Though there was not a great deal of memories there. Just a few glimpses… a few feelings.

"No, Diana. My mother would not have done such a thing," he replied softly.

Diana seemed almost startled by his response. Or perhaps it was his tone.

"Well…" Her own tone softened immediately. Instead of the heat and fire from a moment ago, there was… a wariness, but perhaps a bit of calm alongside it. "I wish only the same, Matthew. The opportunity to improve the house that I live in."

"I see." He paused for a moment and glanced around the room with fresh eyes.

There truly was nothing he valued in the old furniture. And the new furniture… well, it was not so bad.

But he had given enough in this exchange, and he was uncomfortable with the direction in which everything was going.

"As you were," he stated firmly, turning and striding back out of the room before he could say anything else. Or give anything else away.

There was a reason he did not speak of his mother. Because of what he did remember of his mother… it was impossible to be cold and detached the way his father had always wanted him to be.

And comparing her to Diana… well, he dearly wished that his mother was alive so she would see the headstrong, stubborn young lady now replacing their old furniture with whatever she wished, in direct opposition to his rules.

It seemed like the kind of thing his mother would like.

With a sigh, he made his way down the hall to his study, grateful to find that nothing in this room at least had been touched.

With that, the next few days passed quickly enough, though he did not see Diana. Rather, he did see changes within the house.

The furniture seemed to have been replaced to her satisfaction, and with the exception of an old high back chair he had sent to the country estate, the rest was disposed of without concern.

But his admiration for his new wife… that was certainly a concern. One that he was not entirely sure he liked.