Chapter 10

10

B y rights, Grace could have demanded Mrs Yardley come to her room. However, she decided she would be better off extending an olive branch instead. She asked Elsie for a recommendation.

“When is Mrs Yardley most likely to be free of her duties? Late morning?”

Elsie wrinkled her nose. “She’ll be run off her feet until luncheon, my lady, given how many housemaids there are to keep watch over during morning duties. If you want her to be able to sit down and have a proper natter, I’d say to ask her for a meeting in the early afternoon.”

Elsie’s suggestion had merit, but risked the housekeeper spending the morning wondering what Grace wanted. Grace did not want to tip her hand. The time of day worked, but she needed an excuse for her request. She glanced around her room, searching for inspiration, but found nothing unusual. After all, Grace had passed much time in her quarters since her arrival.

And therein lay the solution. Grace sent Elsie belowstairs with a request for Mrs Yardley to show her around the rest of the castle. She spent the remainder of her morning thinking of ways to tell Roland her news. Their news , she reminded herself. She still did not want to add to his worries, but Elsie had convinced her to speak up, lest Roland do something rash.

Step one was to find out as much as she could about the Breaker’s health. If his condition required them to remain in Alnwick for an extended stay, the news of her pregnancy would be a blessing in disguise. After all, she and Roland had always planned to have a family, whenever the time was right. Though right now was not part of their discussions, it did otherwise fit their thoughts on the subject. The impending arrival of a child would be a welcome distraction from dealing with the Breaker. It might even bring the Breaker some joy in his last days.

Heartened by that thought, Grace rested her hands on her abdomen and whispered her first words to her unborn child. “You are wanted, my darling baby.” The faint flutter in reply sent her heart soaring.

Grace enjoyed her lunch meal with a newfound appetite and was ready and waiting when Mrs Yardley rapped on her bedroom door.

She entered at Grace’s command and bobbed a respectfully half-curtsey. “Elsie said you wanted to see me, my lady?”

“I would like to review the rooms of the castle. Lord Percy and I may wish to entertain, and I realised I am not familiar with the disposition of the guest chambers, nor of their current state. Can you spare time to accompany me?”

“Of course, my lady. Elsie indicated your plans and I have cleared my schedule accordingly. Where would you like to begin?”

Roland's quarters were, of course, adjoining Grace's suite. Thorne should have been, by rights, in the same wing as the rest of the family. However, that would have put him near the Duke, a situation neither wanted. Instead, he had a room one floor up in the rooms set aside for guests.

As Grace hadn’t entered the other family rooms yet, she suggested they start there. Mrs. Yardley moved briskly to the one on the other side of the hall.

Like Roland's, this room was draped in masculine shades, with white cloths hiding the furniture beneath. Grace, feeling a tad curious, lifted the edge of one. Beneath it? Nothing but a barren side table. Hardly worth noting.

She meandered further into the room, her eyes landing on what appeared to be a small desk by the window. More light, she decided. After drawing back the curtain, she set her hand to lift the sheet covering the desk.

Something tickled her fingers.

Grace recoiled, shaking her hand like she’d been struck by lightning. “No, no, no!” she muttered under her breath, quickly inspecting her palm. She saw nothing but smooth skin, much to her relief.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she spotted it. Something dark, something terrible, something with far too many legs. The creature scuttled across her sleeve, moving as if it had all the time in the world.

And, of course, it was a spider.

Grace’s mind flashed back to that day with her brother, the one who had thought slipping a spider into her bed was the height of humour. The way Nanny had dismissed her terror. The horde of baby spiders weeks later that had come spilling from behind the wardrobe. It was all too much.

It was the memory of that nightmare of legs and eyes that made her squeak—a sharp, piercing sound that sent Mrs. Yardley spinning on her heel.

“Good heavens, my lady!” Mrs. Yardley dashed across the room with surprising speed, her arms swinging like she might tackle Grace to the ground. Instead, she swatted at Grace’s back, her hands moving with the vigour of a woman trying to rid herself of a dozen wasps. Finally, with a triumphant stomp, she put an end to the spider’s reign of terror.

Grace stood frozen for a beat, still horrified by the sensation of spider legs trailing down her back. Mrs. Yardley, however, was the picture of professionalism. Or she was, until she caught Grace’s eye.

“My lady, I...” Mrs. Yardley’s voice cracked. She bit her lip. The corners of her mouth quivered. She sucked in a breath, fighting with everything in her to hold her composure, but then?—

A snort. A tiny, betraying snort of laughter escaped.

Grace blinked at her, startled. Mrs. Yardley’s eyes went wide with horror as she clamped a hand over her mouth, but it was no use. She was losing the battle. Another giggle bubbled up, followed by a full, helpless laugh.

Grace stared in stunned silence for a moment. Then, all at once, the ridiculousness of the situation hit her.

Her bark of laughter echoed in the room.

“Oh, do stop!” she gasped, holding onto her abdomen, “or I’ll never recover!” But neither could stop. They laughed until tears welled up, until Grace had to grip the back of a chair for support.

Finally, wiping at her eyes, Grace looked at Mrs. Yardley, who was catching her breath. “You’ve saved me from a fate worse than death.”

Mrs. Yardley grinned. “It was my pleasure, my lady.”

The two women, for all their differences in station, shared a look of pure camaraderie. Something unspoken passed between them—something human.

The awkwardness that had previously hung between them melted away, leaving behind a shared moment of hilarity and a newfound common ground.

Mrs Yardley pointed at the door. “If my lady is ready to move on, we may proceed to the duchess suite.”

“Yes, please, if we will not disturb the duke.”

Mrs Yardley assured her the Breaker would be none the wiser. She pulled a key from the chain at her waist to unlock the door, but when she inserted it into the lock, she found the door was open.

Inside the room, a single lit candle in a simple brass candlestick sat atop a sheet covered table. The flame flickered at the wind coming through the open door and nearly guttered out. The wick was burned down nearly to the bottom, casting barely enough light to illuminate the space around it.

Mrs Yardley hurried over to retrieve the item, exclaiming over the drips of wax staining the sheet.

“Has someone else been in here?” Grace asked. “A maid or a footman?”

Mrs Yardley lifted the candlestick and hurried over to the window. She pulled the curtains open wide enough to allow sunlight to brighten the space and then she blew the candle out. “We tidy these rooms once a fortnight. They are not due to be cleaned for another week.”

Grace entered the room and took the candle from Mrs Yardley. It smelled of beeswax, much like the candles in Grace’s room. Based on the diameter of the remaining bit, Grace determined it was one of the larger ones designed to last until the wee hours of the morning. For it to still be burning now, burnt down as it was, it must have been lit well before dawn.

When the household would have been sleeping.

—-------

From Mrs Yardley’s worried expression, Grace presumed the woman had made the same calculations. The housekeeper met Grace’s eyes.

“The duke keeps unusual hours. Some nights he barely sleeps, instead walking the halls like a ghost in his white nightshirt,” she confessed.

Grace recalled how unsteady the duke’s gait had been the day before. No matter her feelings for him, she did not like the idea of him wandering in the dark. Alone.

“Perhaps Withers could assign a footman to keep watch?—”

Mrs Yardley gave a firm shake of her head. “The duke was very adamant on that point, my lady.”

Grace’s gaze slipped to the candle and then to the white sheet. “We are lucky that spilled wax is our only damage. Had it caught fire…” She stopped there, her throat growing tight with fear.

Grace’s plans to ease into the conversation with Mrs Yardley blew away with the last hint of smoke from the candle. She put the candlestick back down where they had found it and then turned to block Mrs Yardley from leaving the room.

“We have barely crossed paths with the duke since our arrival last week. When we ventured to the church for Sunday service, Reverend Shepherd commented on how long it had been since he had last seen the duke. Is there something Lord Percy should know?”

Mrs Yardley shifted around, turning her back on Grace while she pretended to brush dust off the back of a wooden chair. “Some days are better than others for His Grace.”

“How long has he been this way?”

The housekeeper shrugged her shoulders, her arms brushing against the ring of keys tied at her waist. “He does not travel much anymore, my lady. The trip south took much out of him. I am sure he will recover in good time. He always has.”

Had Mrs Yardley been able to meet Grace’s gaze even once, her statement might have gone some way toward alleviating Grace’s concerns. But the woman was steadfast in her attempts to look anywhere else. She leapt into the silence with a suggestion they move upstairs.

“Would you like to see the nursery?” she asked. “There are some old toys and books in storage in the rooms nearby.”

Grace was familiar enough with the nursery rooms, as she made her way to them at least twice a day to visit the twins. Yet, she feared she would do more damage to the burgeoning camaraderie with Mrs Yardley if she continued to question her. Thus, she agreed to the housekeeper’s suggestion. “Miss Fenton will likely welcome a respite from her duties overseeing the children. We can invite them to come along to look with us.”

The women exited the room, pausing long enough for Mrs Yardley to secure the lock on the suite’s door. Then, the housekeeper stepped aside to allow Grace to lead the way up the stairs. Grace took care not to slip on the smooth wooden boards. When she reached the landing, she stopped to wait for Mrs Yardley to catch up. The woman moved with ease, her steps sure in her practical leather half-boots. Her stern expression gave no hint of her discomfort around Grace.

The part of Grace which fought hardest against society’s senseless regulations wanted to crack the housekeeper’s composure.

“Mrs Yardley, do we have a Hannah on staff?”

Mrs Yardley’s forehead pinched in confusion. “No, my lady. Did someone introduce themselves as such?”

“What about Anna? Or Annie?” Grace persisted.

Mrs Yardley paused on the stairs. “There was an Annie, Annie Meadows. She was a scullery maid, my lady. She left two years ago to marry a local farmer.”

Grace laid that information over the duke’s strange behaviour. Would he know the name of a scullery maid? Would he expect to see her in the library in the middle of the day? Mrs Yardley was equally mystified by Grace’s seemingly random questions.

Grace took some amount of satisfaction in leaving the housekeeper wondering what was amiss. She pivoted and strode down the corridor to the doorway to the nursery. Before she reached it, she heard the children’s voices raised in anger. The part she could half hear suggested the children were squabbling over what game to play next.

Grace twisted the handle and swung open the door without giving any warning. Wes and Willa were both on their feet, facing off against one another with matching determined expressions. Miss Fenton sighed in relief at seeing the cavalry arrive, and then flushed as the implications of Grace’s arrival hit her.

“I’m sae sorry, my lady. The children have been cooped up indoors for tae long today. I’ll take them straight outside tae get some air.”

“There’s no need,” Grace hurried to reassure her. “Mrs Yardley and I are here to ask the Sprouts for help with an exploration.”

“An exploration of what?” Wes asked, eyeing Grace in suspicion. “It ain’t of the baths or laundry, is it?”

Grace bit back a laugh. “There is no cleaning involved, I promise. Mrs Yardley has informed me there are some old toys and books stored away. Would you two like to accompany us as we go to see what is there and what condition things are in? There might be something left from when Lord Percy was a child.”

“Cor!” Willa sighed. “What do you think his toys were made out of? Gold? Silver?”

Grace imagined they were made of wood or some other sturdy material, just as her own toys had been, but she would let Willa and Wes see for themselves. “Does that mean you wish to come?”

The twins dropped their argument and nearly knocked Grace over in their hurry to exit to the hallway. Mrs Yardley gave them a tight-lipped, narrow gaze and hushed them before leading them to a door at the other end of the hall. Grace told Miss Fenton to enjoy a cup of tea and a rest before returning to her post.

Grace was the last to enter the room Mrs Yardley had unlocked. Unlike the rooms below, this one was far from ready to host anyone. What must have once been a child’s bedroom had been turned into a storeroom of sorts. Large trunks and stacks of wooden crates filled much of the space.

Mrs Yardley moved around with a certain familiarity, ignoring the crates in favour of the trunks. She pulled the ring of keys from her waist and set to unlocking each one in turn. Wes screwed up his face into a grimace when he saw that all it contained were folded clothes.

“I thought you said we’d find some games,” he grumbled. “What about that one over there? You forgot to unlock it.”

“I don’t have the key for that one,” Mrs Yardley explained, earning a sullen stare from Wes. She took pity on him and accompanied him to the next trunk in line, this time finding dozens of oddly shaped wrapped items. He lifted one without waiting for permission and shucked the wrap free with no care for saving it. He gave a small cheer when the item revealed itself to be a wooden toy soldier. “Can I keep it?”

Mrs Yardley opened her mouth to reply but then thought better of it. She looked to Grace as lady of the house to give an answer.

“See what else is in there. When Lord Percy returns, you may ask him which of the items you can borrow during our stay.” Grace glanced at Mrs Yardley and was pleased to see the woman give a nod of approval at Grace’s response.

Willa tugged on Grace’s skirt until she had her attention. “I’m sick of playing soldiers all the time, miss. Do you think there’s anything else in here? Even a ball would be a welcome change.”

“If there is not a ball, I will ask Miss Fenton to procure you one from the village. In the meantime, let us look through here and see if there is anything stored beneath all these clothes.”

Much like the old wrap Grace wore to keep warm, the cotton baby clothes smelled of lavender with a hint of old mustiness. Willa was just as entranced as Grace at the tiny shirts and woollen leggings sized for a newborn child. Grace held one up in the light, already imagining she was pulling it out for her own child.

“What’s that?’ Willa asked, pulling Grace from her reverie. She pointed at a faded pink ribbon poking up from underneath.

Grace pulled up the edges of the baby clothes, taking care not to rip anything. Willa threaded her small hand into the gap and tugged free a painted figurine in a pink gown. She lifted it up and stared at it in awe.

“She’s beautiful,” Willa cooed, turning the doll left and right as she admired it. She fingered the curls poking out from underneath the bonnet. “She’s got real hair! And look at her cheeks! Her eyes almost look real!”

Grace held out her hand for the doll. Willa relinquished it, but not without a sigh of disappointment. Had Willa had a doll before her parents died, leaving her and her brother orphans? Grace had got so accustomed to thinking of the girl in unison with her brother that she had not stopped to consider whether she might like some more feminine toys of her own.

Grace studied the doll, taking note of its condition. The glass eyes seemed firmly fixed. The bonnet and gown were still in good condition, barring the faded colour. Perhaps Willa would be interested in learning to sew if she could make more clothing for the doll. With that in mind, Grace flipped it over to see if the dress could be removed. The buttons slid free with the ease borne of hours of youthful play, revealing a line of letters inked onto the doll’s torso.

Grace let out a gasp of her own. “Hannah!”

“Who’s Hannah?” Willa asked, shoving in to get a closer look. “Do you think that’s the doll’s name, miss?”

“I have no idea,” Grace replied, her mind awhirl with thoughts. Who was Hannah and how was she connected with the duke? Did Roland have an aunt somewhere? Or had the Breaker lost yet another child before adulthood?

Grace longed to carry the doll back to her room, but one glance at the covetous expression on Willa’s face had her second-guessing her thoughts. “Would you like to keep her?”

Willa’s eyes grew round as porcelain saucers. She nodded, too surprised to form words of thanks. Grace knew somewhat of how she felt. While Willa now had a doll, Grace had her first real clue into who the mysterious Hannah might be.

A cough from the doorway drew her attention. Grace laid the doll on Willa’s outstretched hands and turned to acknowledge the footman waiting in the doorway.

“Pardon me, my lady, but Reverend Shepherd is asking to see you.”

Grace wrinkled her brow, but could not recall any requests for a visit. Why was the rector showing up unexpectedly, and asking to see her, of all people.

Roland! Grace’s vision dimmed as her worst fears reared to the surface. She had waited too long to tell him her secret. And now, the reverend was here to deliver bad news.