Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Charlotte returned to her room, barely able to contain her anger. She had a few choice words to share with her husband, but like a good wife, she had kept them to herself. She didn't know how much longer she could do that, though. Charlotte was accustomed to speaking her mind, but respectfully so.

"Is something the matter, Your Grace?" Templeton asked, looking up from shifting a dresser.

She was organizing Charlotte's possessions in the room to resemble her bedroom at home. Templeton believed it might help her settle in better.

"He refuses to show me the house and grounds," Charlotte complained, falling onto her bed.

She rolled onto her back and violently kicked off her shoes. Templeton didn't bat an eyelash as she picked up the shoes and put them with the others on a shelf. She was accustomed to Charlotte's tumultuous emotions. It wasn't odd for her to go through several emotions within a day. It just depended on the occasion.

Her mother often said she needed to learn to be more temperate in all things, especially her emotions, but she found it challenging. Charlotte liked to experience things to the fullest, be it happiness, sadness, anger, or excitement. Life seemed dull if one had to be so careful of everything .

"Since this is your home, we can go exploring together," said Templeton. "You have always liked architecture like this, and there is much to see."

Charlotte jolted up. "You have a point there," she said. "I do not need William to give me a tour, but I would have liked my husband to show more interest in his wife. Is that so much to ask?"

He wouldn't speak to her during their carriage ride, and he'd been quiet during their wedding feast and for the rest of the day; she'd also noted his absence at breakfast. Considering they had just married, he should have been more interested in her. Something was very wrong when one's husband would rather be in his study than with his beautiful wife.

"Shall we begin our exploration?" Templeton asked. "It should take us a day to get through the house and grounds."

"I suppose now is a good time to begin," said Charlotte. "My shoes, please."

Templeton nodded, fetching the same shoes and placing them at her feet. Charlotte slid into them and stood up, determined not to let William ruin her first full day at Russell Manor. This was her home now, and she needed to make the best of her situation. Her mother would expect nothing less of her.

"The last floor is likely the servants' quarters, so there's no need to go there," she said. "Perhaps we can begin with the lower level. I'm interested to see their kitchen. The wedding feast and breakfast this morning tells me it's efficient and likely has many rooms dedicated to different foods."

Their kitchen at home had been divided into three rooms—cooking, baking, and the scullery. Russell Manor was bigger than her family house, so she imagined the kitchen was the same.

"I do not know if the servants will like that, Your Grace," said Templeton. "Perhaps we should speak to the housekeeper and have her show us the service areas like the kitchen."

Charlotte arched an eyebrow. "I am the mistress of this home," she pointed out. "Mama said that one must establish a relationship between mistress and servant. They need to know that they should obey me without question."

Templeton lowered her head. "Yes, Your Grace."

Charlotte frowned. "You do not agree with me?"

Her lady's maid's head shot up quickly. "No, Your Grace," she said. "I have no argument against what you said. Far be it from me to question you."

Charlotte pursed her lips. Templeton was lying but would never admit it. "You do not think I am capable of running this house, do you?"

"You are the most capable person I know, Your Grace," said Templeton. "You can do whatever you set your mind to."

"You're placating me," Charlotte accused. "But that doesn't matter. We should go to the kitchen and continue with the rest of the house."

"Yes, Your Grace," Templeton replied, opening the door and standing back to let her through.

They made their way down, chatting about how she would decorate her private parlor. It was something to look forward to and keep her busy, and with her generous pin money, she could buy everything she wanted without bothering William.

"The wall-hangings might be expensive," she commented. "I want the Chinese ones and not the boring English ones most people have with monotonous patterns. I want my room to tell a story. I think I should ask Papa to speak to his merchant friend."

"Very good, Your Grace," said Templeton, nodding. "Perhaps you can make the room Oriental? You have always loved the exotic."

Charlotte turned to her lady's maid excitedly. "That is a wonderful thought, Templeton!" she exclaimed. "Mama refused to let me do it at home, but I'm confident no one will mind here. Papa's merchant friend has many things from the Orient."

Her mind was running with ideas for the room, so much so that she didn't realize they had reached the kitchen until she could smell the unmistakable scent of slowly roasting meat.

The kitchen was abuzz with activity, and no one immediately took notice of Charlotte until she walked further inside the large room. Animated conversation came to an abrupt halt as everyone turned to her, their eyes filled with shock, curiosity, and annoyance. The last reaction shocked her the most because she expected them to be friendly or at least respectful as servants should be.

"Was there something you needed, Your Grace?" the housekeeper asked, rising from her seat. "You can just send a servant. There is no need to come all the way here."

Charlotte did not like how the woman spoke to her. She made Charlotte sound like a nuisance, and the others undoubtedly agreed with her as their expressions became a tad hostile. All she had done was walk into the kitchen!

One would think she had canceled their wages and day of rest. Charlotte couldn't allow the servants to believe she was just a silly young girl who needed to be put in her place. She was the mistress of the house, and they needed to understand that.

"I wanted to see the kitchen," said Charlotte, raising her nose slightly. "Is there a problem with that, Mrs. Clarkson?"

The housekeeper stiffened a little, drawing herself up to her full height. Charlotte didn't care. She needed to ensure the housekeeper understood her role as a servant in the house. She may have been there before Charlotte, but that didn't change the hierarchy. Even if William barely acknowledged her as his wife, she was still the Duchess of Richmond—that meant something.

"No, it is no problem at all, Your Grace," Mrs. Clarkson replied. "It is only rather busy in the kitchen and dangerous for you. We would hate for you to get hurt."

"This is not my first time in the kitchen," said Charlotte.

"It certainly is a first for us to have our duchess in the kitchen," said Mrs. Clarkson, smiling.

The smile was polite but mocking. Templeton stepped closer to Charlotte, lightly touching her arm.

"Her Grace wished to explore the house," she said, her voice barely concealing her anger. "She takes a great interest in every aspect of the household, including the kitchen. She had enjoyed her meals and wanted to see where they were created. Since she is clearly at risk of being hurt despite being in the presence of her servants, we shall leave. Your Grace?"

Templeton was always calm. Always . Seeing her so riled up and coming to her defense was surprising and entertaining.

"Agreed, Templeton," she replied. "There is still much to see."

Charlotte turned away, waiting until they were out of earshot, when she paused and doubled up in laughter.

"I have never seen you so angry," she said, wiping tears from her eyes.

Templeton smiled, two spots of color appearing on her cheeks. "Forgive me, Your Grace," she said. "I should not have been so bold. I was just so angry with their rude and dismissive behavior. You are the mistress of this house, and they should treat you with respect."

"Agreed, but they seem to think differently," said Charlotte. "Perhaps they would treat me better if His Grace showed any interest. But I do not wish to dwell on everything wrong with my new life. Shall we have ourselves an adventure?"

"I shall follow your lead, You Grace," she said.

"Well, I think some fresh air to calm us would be good," said Charlotte. "I haven't seen much of the garden, so we can begin there."

"I would like to get your parasol, Your Grace," said Templeton. "The sunlight is rather strong."

"A little sun will not hurt me, Templeton," Charlotte told her.

"But your delicate skin—"

"Will be fine," Charlotte insisted. "Come, the garden awaits us."

Charlotte took her lady's maid's arm and moved toward the closest exit to the garden. She was all smiles, but her heart wasn't in it. She might have made a mistake by marrying a man she had never met before. While handsome, he was distant and cold toward her. This wasn't what Charlotte wanted, but it seemed too late to do anything about it.

***

Hermione's visit later that afternoon was a wonderful surprise. Charlotte couldn't stop smiling. It was just what she needed to distract herself from her marital challenges.

"This is a beautiful home," Hermione commented.

"It certainly is," Charlotte agreed. "I explored the gardens and half the house today. I plan to explore the rest tomorrow and begin the process of redecorating my private parlor. Perhaps the next time you come to see me, we can have tea in there."

"That sounds lovely," said Hermione, stirring sugar into her tea. "I imagine you have ideas about what you'd like? You always have such interesting thoughts."

Charlotte was tempted to kick her shoes off and put her feet on the settee while enjoying her tea with her friend, but she didn't know if it would be something her new family frowned upon.

"I do," Charlotte said, removing her shoes and digging her toes into the carpet. "I have always liked the Orient, so I think I will focus on that theme."

"Oh, that's wonderful!" Hermione exclaimed, flicking a bit of tea in the air with her teaspoon. "I would love to be part of the redecoration. May I help with something? Perhaps selecting the scatter cushions or curtains. I could paint something! May I paint something?"

Charlotte chuckled. "I cannot explain how wonderful it is to have you here," she said. "Besides Templeton, you're the only one who has truly smiled at me in this house."

Hermione put her cup and saucer down, frowning. "What do you mean?" she asked. "Is something wrong? Are they not treating you well? I told Alistair that I would steal you away and hide you in our home if they did not treat you well. He agreed with me."

Charlotte considered begging her friend to do just that, but she imagined the consequences and shook the thought away.

"I would love that, I truly would, but this is only my first day," she said. "I should give myself more time to grow acquainted with the people here."

If only they would give her as much effort. No one seemed concerned about her, not her husband or the servants. Her mother-in-law was too busy to care, and Lord Henry was never around during the day. If not for Templeton, Charlotte would essentially be alone.

"There is always an adjusting time," said Hermione. "Although I must admit that it was rather easy for me. Alistair prepared everything for me, even personally introducing me to the head servants and giving me a tour around our home. Has His Grace not done this for you?"

Charlotte's hands involuntarily clenched in her lap. Hearing Hermione reveal how wonderful and accommodating her husband had been made William's behavior seem far worse. He had nearly brought her to tears this morning, all because she wanted him to give her a tour of their home. William should have set time aside for her—at least a week!

"His Grace has been busy," said Charlotte, reaching for a piece of fruit. "I can explore the house alone and meet the servants along the way. I've met a few already."

"Oh, I see," said Hermione, her face clouding with confusion. "Perhaps he is trying to work now to set time aside for your lune de miel . I imagine it will be any day now. When do you plan to go?"

The thought of a honeymoon hadn't even occurred to Charlotte, but now that it was in her head, she wanted to cry. She wasn't going to get one—William had made that abundantly clear by his lack of interest.

"We will not have a honeymoon," she managed to say, picking up her cup. She needed to do something with her hands. "His Grace is too busy."

Too busy to talk to her, too busy to smile at her, too busy to spend time with her...Too busy to be a husband. Charlotte didn't mean to; she really didn't, but she couldn't help the tears that gathered in her eyes and steadily flowed down her cheeks and into her tea.