Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

" A letter for you, Your Grace." The middle-aged butler gave her a small bow as he presented the object on a silver tray.

Perplexed but excited, Arabella took it from him. "Thank you."

As the man turned, ready to leave her to her reading, Arabella stood. "I – Mr. Rogers, I fear we have not yet been properly introduced."

The butler paused, turning back to Arabella with a slightly quizzical expression. He had a kind face, Arabella realized. The wear and tear of the years had begun to have its effect upon him, but she could also spy the deeper wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. Mr. Rogers was evidently a man who liked to smile, and smile often. She took some comfort in that fact.

But, when the butler looked at her, clearly puzzled, Arabella's confidence wavered. "I beg your pardon, my Lady?"

Arabella bit her lip. She was unused to such situations. Back at home, her family was quite casual with their employees, speaking freely with their servants and even exchanging jests with one another from time to time.

But it was very clear that the Duke's household was run very differently. She had been brought around and introduced formally to all the staff on her first full day at the manor, of course. But since then, she had hardly spoken with any of them. And none of the staff seemed eager to speak to her.

Though this might be how the Duke preferred things, Arabella could not bear the idea of being served by people she hardly knew. She wished to get to know them better. After all, they would be spending a lot of time together from now on. Would it not make everyone's lives a little more bearable if they could speak freely with one another?

"How long have you been working for His Grace?" Arabella tried.

As the man before her thought for a moment, she realized, briefly, that he reminded her of her father. The butler was still a good ten or fifteen years younger than the earl, but some of his mannerisms reminded Arabella of Peter.

This sent a pang of longing through her chest. How she missed her family. She wondered if she might be allowed to visit them soon.

"Almost twenty years, my Lady," Mr. Rogers replied.

"Indeed? That is commendable. It may be the ignorance of youth, but I cannot imagine doing anything for twenty years," Arabella admitted.

At this, the man's mouth twitched. "With time, you may yet understand. The years can slip by faster than you may expect."

"I am sure you speak the truth." Arabella offered him a pleasant smile. "Have you a family, Mr. Rogers? Children?"

"I have. A wife and two little ones."

"What are their names?"

"My wife is called Elizabeth. And the children are Samuel and Ruth."

"How old are your children?"

"Eight and five." At this, the man finally smiled, a look of pride crossing his features. "Yet they seem to grow each day. I fear I shall blink and find them married and out of the house."

Arabella nodded, wondering if that was how it felt to be a parent. To worry after your children as they grew, but to also worry about what life would be like without them. She supposed she would never know.

As angry tears threatened, Arabella's smile faltered. "You must be very proud."

Mr. Rogers hesitated. He raised a hand slightly, as if preparing to step forward and comfort her. Then, remembering himself, his hand fell limply at his side. "I - begging your pardon, my Lady, but is everything all right?"

"It is. I suddenly find myself a little tired," Arabella lied. "I think I shall go up to my rooms."

The man nodded and turned to go. Arabella followed after him, pausing at the foot of the stairs. "Thank you for our talk," she added, mustering up another smile. "Do keep me informed as to how your family is doing. Especially little Samuel and Ruth. And let me know if they have need of anything; I should like to be of help to them."

Though he looked surprised, Mr. Rogers nodded. "I will, my Lady."

Arabella carried her letter up the stairs, fighting back tears. She was still surprised at how easily they came. It was a testament to the strength of her dreams – just how much she had wanted a family. She hadn't known how dearly she wished for it until the possibility of children had been taken away from her.

Inside her bedroom, Arabella crossed to the window and took a seat. Opening the letter, her spirits lifted to see Catherine's delicate, lilting handwriting on the parchment before her. Eagerly, she read:

Dearest Arabella,

I hope married life has found you well. Thank you for your letter. I was grateful to hear that you are settling into life on the Duke's estate. In time, I hope we may see one another. Though, at present, I find myself quite busy. Still, rest assured that I think of you often, and hope for the best for my dear friend.

Sincerely,

Lady Catherine

Stunned, Arabella read the letter again. Then she read it a third time. But no matter how many times she read it, Arabella could not seem to comprehend the contents of her friend's letter.

It was a nice enough letter. From a stranger's perspective, it was a perfectly thoughtful and polite correspondence. However, Arabella knew better. She also knew that this letter in no way matched the letter which Arabella had sent to her friend, prompting this exchange.

A few days after her wedding, Arabella had written to Charlotte. In her correspondence she had poured out all the fears and sadness that she felt she could share with no one else. She didn't dare write of such things to her parents or siblings – they would only feel worse for Arabella and her situation. Or, perhaps, they would believe themselves guilty of pushing her into a marriage with such a cold, unrelenting man.

Charlotte, Arabella had believed, would be able to understand her friend's situation. As a yet unmarried woman, Charlotte would understand both the pressure to find a match, and the fears of marrying a man only to find that he was not at all what she had expected.

All her grief over being denied children had gone into Arabella's letter. And she had hoped that her friend might be able to, if not offer council, comfort her in her sadness.

But this letter…it was as if Charlotte had never even read Arabella's words. Or, even worse, that she refused to acknowledge them in the first place.

Arabella could not begin to explain the hurt of Charlotte's actions. Nor could she explain this sudden change in her behavior. The two had been the best of friends for years. They shared everything with one another. Charlotte was always the first to offer a shoulder for Arabella to cry on, and Arabella had been by her friend's side all throughout her mother's illness and following death.

As Arabella lifted the parchment closer to her face - thinking that it would be more understandable that a stranger had copied Charlotte's hand and written to her, than Charlotte actually authoring such a cold, uncaring message – Arabella spied something even more confounding.

If she was not mistaken, there, at the corner of the letter, was the stain of a teardrop. It was hardly noticeable, a slight discoloration of the parchment, but Arabella had become accustomed to looking for such marks. When Charlotte's mother had passed, the poor girl's letters had been covered with such stains, sometimes even blurring the ink with her tears.

Charlotte had been crying when she wrote to me. The knowledge was just as confusing as it was worrying.

Crossing to her desk, Arabella lost no time in making her friend a reply:

Dearest Charlotte,

I find myself distressed at your reply. I fear that something is amiss between us. If I have offended in some way, pray, disclose such offense to me and I shall make reparations as quickly as I may.

The contents of my last letter were from the depths of my heart. I must confess that I find myself wounded that you have neither addressed them nor made an effort to offer condolences for my dismal situation. In your silence I fear that you have judged me unfairly. Do suppose that I complain without reason? Or, worse, that I exaggerate my circumstances? I assure you that this is not so. I find myself missing my family and friends deeply. I mourn the loss of my future children with renewed grief. I had supposed that you might understand my situation as we have dreamed of our future families together often.

Please write to me with some explanation as to your strange silence. If you are in trouble, I beseech you, entrust me with your troubles. I shall, as ever, endeavor to be worthy of your friendship.

Sincerely,

Arabella

Like her friend, Arabella found herself in tears as she wrote. Her heart broke to think that her friend might be angry with her for some reason. But she reminded herself that there was nothing to be done but to ask for clarification and, if necessary, give apology. She could not make amends if she did not know what she had done.

Still, despite her concern, Arabella found herself equally offended. She had been by Charlotte's side through thick and thin. Now, when Arabella needed her, Charlotte was distant and cold. Even if Arabella had offended her in some way, surely she did not deserve such silence.

Making her way out of the bedroom and into the hall, Arabella set out to find Mr. Rogers once more. The sooner she sent off this letter, the sooner she might have a reply.

As she started down the stairs, however, she found herself face to face with someone else entirely.

"Your Grace." Arabella hesitated, dropping her hands to her side and hiding her letter amidst the folds of her dress. She did not know why she did it. Perhaps she expected the duke to question her about it. Was he the sort of man to examine his wife's letters to ensure that she was speaking to only the right people about the right things?

As Jasper's eyes followed her hand, Arabella inwardly groaned. "I, I have written to my friend," she offered quietly.

To her great surprise, Jasper merely nodded. "Mr. Robins will see that it is taken care of."

"Thank you."

As Arabella made as if to move past him, Jasper took a step to the side, cutting her off. When she looked back up at him, he was studying her carefully.

"Are you quite well, Duchess?" he asked gently.

Swallowing, Arabella opened her mouth, but could not think of what to say. Had her tear-stained eyes given her away? But even if they had, why should the duke care? Had he not been the one to remind her to keep her distance?

"I, I am well," she said after a moment.

Jasper's eyes continued to search hers as if he did not quite believe her. "If you have need of anything –"

"I shall inform my maid," she finished quietly. "I know." She offered him a small smile. "Thank you for your concern."

She hoped this would be the end of the conversation. Indeed, as Jasper began to climb the stairs, she let out a small sigh of relief. But, passing her, the duke paused once more.

"The stable hands have been informed that they should keep a horse ready for you," Jasper said. "Unladylike though it may seem, you are free to ride whenever you feel so inclined."

"After all," he added, continuing his journey up the stairs, his back to her, "you must be allowed to practice if you intend to beat me in a race."

Arabella stared at his retreating figure in astonishment. She opened her mouth but not a sound came out. Was he making a joke?

This man made no sense. She could not figure him out. Once moment he was furious with her, scolding her for a mere touch on the arm. The next he was opening up his stables to her and going above and beyond to ensure that she had everything she needed.

Shaking her head, Arabella found herself wishing that he would pick one pattern of behavior. If he was a cold, unfeeling man and nothing more, then she could eventually make her peace with that. But these glimpses of something else – a caring, thoughtful man beneath this brusque, bristling exterior – was making it difficult to read him. It was making it difficult to completely dismiss him as a mean, distant husband.

As Arabella reached the bottom of the stairs, she was suddenly overwhelmed with an embarrassing memory. Her cheeks burned as she thought back to their wedding day.

When she had first seen him, Arabella had had a scandalous thought. He had been dressed so handsomely, his coat and tails somehow making his deep green eyes even more hauntingly vivid. Those broad shoulders, that square jaw… She was not entirely unaware of what was to transpire between a husband and wife in the dark of the night. Arabella had thought that, if she had to share her bed with a man, she might not mind sharing it with him. Jasper might be an annoying, arrogant man, but he certainly was easy on the eyes.

With a jolt, Arabella realized that she had felt a similarly indecent attraction to him the other day, in the stables. When they had teased one another and Jasper had finally smiled at her for the first time, Arabella had been surprised by her eagerness to get closer to him.

However, they both knew how that had ended.

Irritated with herself, Arabella shook her head, trying to push such unhelpful thoughts form her mind.

She did not understand Jasper. But, from what she could see, she never would. Not if he did not want to open up to her.

The best she could do now would be to make the best of this situation. She would ride as often as she liked, thankfully. And she would continue to make an effort to get to know the manor's staff. Perhaps, soon enough, she would be lucky enough to invite Charlotte to tea here. Once the matter of her strange behavior was settled, of course.

Arabella sighed. "Things might seem dismal," she murmured to herself, repeating words that her mother had said to her time and time again, "but there is always a silver lining to be found in a darkened raincloud."

I need to look a little harder to find it, she told herself. It would be there. It always was; a blessing in the midst of disappointment.

A little renewed, Arabella straightened her shoulders. She was just about to set off to track down Mr. Rogers when, to her surprise, he came to find her. Or, rather, he came to answer the door.

A knock sounded and suddenly the butler was murmuring an apology and slipping past her to answer the door.

What little of Arabella's spirits that had lifted at the memory of her mother's words came crashing back to the ground when she heard the newcomer's voice.

"I have come to see Their Graces."

Arabella winced, wondering if it was too late to run and hide. But if he had come to see the both of them then there was no doubt that he would stay until he accomplished just that.

"Of course, Lord Barrington," replied the butler. "Right this way."