Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

E leanor stared at the ground as she and her father walked towards the back of the rows of chairs. There was a rustle of fabrics as the guests rose in respect for the bride. For her. Her throat tightened, and she fought a rising wave of panic as she began to pull away from her father.

As the music for the bridal procession began, William tightened his hold on her hand, leaned closer and whispered in her ear, "You will go through with this wedding, and you will behave yourself, Eleanor. I have chosen a suitable man for you, one who both befits your station and has the kindness and patience to deal with you."

Pain blossomed deep in her chest, a mix of emotional and physical pain that threatened to bring her down to her knees. Tears blurred her gaze unbidden, and she sucked in a sharp breath, trying to hold them at bay. All this time, she had truly been nothing but a burden to her father. He said that he loved her, but he cared only about getting her down the aisle to hand her off like some property to another man. A man she didn't know and would likely not ever love or respect. Her father had finally realized that a daughter was only a burden and could be useful only to secure power, money or lineage. A quick marriage was his solution to finding himself stuck with a daughter who was no longer young enough to find herself a match at the ton's numerous social events.

Eleanor forced a smile on her face and held her head high, though she kept her gaze trained firmly on the ground. For now, she would accept her fate. There was no better choice. She could only choose between embarrassing herself before half of the ton or submitting with cold grace. And Eleanor had always been a master of cold grace. She would be unyielding and hostile with all the chill she could muster, and she would not allow her resolve to waver. To that end, she refused to look at the groom. If she would find a stranger there, it would be easy, but if she would find a man she knew, it would suddenly feel all too real. She needed the distance provided by avoiding eye contact with her husband-to-be.

The crowd and the music were nothing but a distant noise now. She could hear nothing but the pounding of her heart, feel nothing but the rough fabric of her father's coat against her forearm and the swish of her skirts around her legs. The walk down the aisle seemed to be over too quickly but dragged on for too long at the same time. It felt as if time was undulating around her, running too quickly and then too slowly. Her father said something to her, but she kept staring at the ground, head bowed, and did not acknowledge him.

Another pair of hands took hers. They were rough with work. She closed her eyes, determined not to cry in front of the guests. Her heart beat faster, and she felt as if the stays that had been comfortable only moments ago were now making it hard for her to breathe. The minister before them droned on, and she stared at her groom's polished black boots, watching the sunshine bounce off them.

The steady pressure of her husband-to-be's hand on hers kept her grounded but increased the sense of being trapped. She felt so tied down that she could not flee the fate barreling down upon her. The minister spoke, and she faintly heard the groom respond. Nothing was registering. Shock had set in, and everything was a faint roar in her ears. When was she meant to say the vows that would set society's demands upon her shoulders as this duke's bride? Had she missed them already? It didn't matter. They would go through with them without her consent. She didn't need to speak the vows or acknowledge them.

A hush fell on the dull roaring, like the calm before a storm. It seemed everything was balanced on a single inhale before it all crashed down on an exhale. The minister said something into the silence that still didn't break through the haze in her mind. But that haze was finally lifted as the first person began clapping. The words of the minister finally sank in.

You may now kiss the bride.

She had never spoken her vows, she realized, as firm hands gently turned her towards the man she had just been wedded to.

Finally, she could no longer avoid looking at him. She raised her eyes to see whom she had been sold to, and the Duke of Richmond's gentle hazel gaze met hers.

"You?" The word was a bare, harsh whisper, and she hadn't realized she said it until it hung in the air between them.

"Let us be done with it, Eleanor," he whispered back before sealing their fate with a chaste kiss.

The crowd erupted in applause all over again, and Eleanor felt the tears coming. She prayed that the assembled crowd would think they were tears of joy and that the Duke would not realize they were tears of mourning.

How could he do this to me? The man who had sat beside me and listened to me voice out my despair over Father's plans for me had been the one who would marry me all along!

Phillip took her hand, and they both turned to face the crowd as the minister announced them as the Duke and Duchess of Richmond. Eleanor didn't even know what her husband's Christian name was, but here she was, taking his title as the new lady of the house. She'd never met his family and knew only that he claimed to share her love for literature.

Had that too been a lie? Had it all been a lie?

She took a shaky breath and forcefully pasted a smile on her lips as the crowd came to speak with her.

Phillip let go of her hand and leaned closer to murmur in her ear. "I must tend to something, Eleanor. Tend to our guests and try not to let on that you are upset."

She stiffened and continued to stare at the ground lest she glares and reveals to everyone else how much she loathed him at this moment. He disappeared through the crowd, abandoning her to deal with their wedding guests.

Sarah rushed up when it was her turn and wrapped her arms around Eleanor. "Oh, Eleanor, you made such a lovely bride! Why did you not tell me your father had arranged something? To marry a duke in such a short time! You are certainly fortunate."

Eleanor felt cursed, but she kept that to herself and offered Sarah a faint smile. "I am so glad you could come, Sarah. I know it was rather short notice, but we simply could not bear to wait."

"How very romantic!"

Sarah didn't seem to notice the sheen of tears or the tightness of Eleanor's smile in all her enthusiasm, and Eleanor was glad for it. If Sarah couldn't tell she was both furious and upset, then no one else there would know. Eleanor's secret was safe between herself, her father and her husband. People continued to come by to congratulate her, and she couldn't decide if she wanted Phillip there to take the attention off her or if she wished him to stay away lest she tries to strangle him for betraying her. True, they had only spoken a handful of times at her father's house, but he could have told her the truth at any time! He did not need to pretend he was her friend or that he commiserated with her while he already had her in his grasp thanks to her father.

"You must have dazzled him, Your Grace," one of the dowagers said with a wrinkled smile. "Young love! I remember those days when my husband and I were still young before he fell ill and God took him. Enjoy them! Where is your husband, anyway?"

It hit Eleanor once again that she was alone and that she did not even know her husband's first name. She knew nothing about him. The people there knew more than she did. At that moment, she knew the tears could not be held back again. "He had something urgent to attend to. I… I am certain he will return shortly. Please, excuse me, I need a moment." Her voice fell to a bare whisper. "I simply need to refresh myself. Thank you for coming."

The guests turned their attention to the refreshment tables that were laden with food as she fled towards the house. Halfway there, she realized she had no idea where she was going and had no wish to run into the Duke in her miserable state. She couldn't bear to let the traitor see her on the verge of tears. Switching directions, she went around the side of the house, noticing a small overgrown garden a little further down. It was run down in a way that said the estate hadn't seen a proper gardener's touch in ages, but it was free of the wedding decorations on the main lawn, at least, and it offered some privacy.

Eleanor fled under the overgrown arbor in the garden, tucking herself away on a small bench hidden from view by a copse of arborvitaes that had grown entirely out of hand. Dragging her knees up to her chest, she huddled on the bench and let the tears roll down her cheeks. She could no longer deny them, and she needed this quiet moment to strengthen her resolve to be cold and distant before she had to face her husband again.

Face buried in her knees, she wept and wondered what would become of her. Most women, even in stations like hers, knew their husbands before they were wed. They spoke with their betrotheds on more than a handful of occasions, and they knew whom they were going to marry, even if something had been arranged. Most women did not discover they were brides in the moments before they reached the assembled wedding guests. Eleanor was not like most women or most brides, and this whole situation was a disaster.

Given that Phillip had hidden his intentions from her, she doubted she could believe any of the things he had said during the times he had visited her. She now knew that he had been there to assess her, not to meet with her father, and that he and her father had colluded together to keep that from her. Her father's persistent questions about how she found the Duke of Richmond suddenly made sense in an awful, sickening way.

He had been planning this from the start, likely since the day the Duke of Richmond and I first met, when the first argument over my intent to never marry had broken out.

She sniffled and tried to compose herself. If she would stay hidden in the garden for too long, people would come looking for her. As she was about to pull out a handkerchief to wipe her tear-stained face, she heard the crunch of footsteps on the gravel path that led to the back garden where she was now ensconced. It sounded as if the person was approaching from the front lawn, where the wedding had been held.

More footsteps came from the direction of the house.

William's voice drifted from somewhere nearby, and she stilled. It might be wrong to eavesdrop, but after what he had done to her today, she felt little guilt for staying hidden and listening in.

"… fulfilled the agreement as per our earlier discussions. My daughter's dowry will be more than enough to cover the debts and expenses of the estate and to get you back on your feet, Richmond."

"Do you think she will ever be happy here, Fife?" Phillip's voice filtered through the small space.

"I hope she will be, but whether she will be or not, she is safely under your protection now, and that is all I care about."

"Well, I am glad it worked out," the Duke said. "I have my expenses cared for, and you have rid yourself of your daughter. You will not have to worry about her anymore, and I will not have to worry about whether I can care for her."

Eleanor hugged her knees tighter, her tears resurfacing. Phillip sounded miserable over the arrangement, but that was no comfort. It only meant he didn't want her and had married her only for her dowry. She had been chattel in a deal they had made, unwanted by both parties but necessary to seal the deal. A part of her wanted to leap from her hiding place and storm out of there to slap Phillip for doing this. The other part wanted to creep away and die before more hurt could be piled on the pain she was already enduring.

No more of this. She could bear no more. Standing up, she slipped out of the back of the garden and headed towards the house, treading lightly on the gravel to avoid alerting both of them that someone was back there listening in on their conversation. She went into the dark, cool interior of the house, thankful for a quiet place to escape the warm summer sun. Then, she pushed open a door that led her into the bustling warmth of the manor kitchens.

When she entered, the cook and the maids stopped and gawked at her. She must have looked terrible coming in there with tear-stained cheeks, red-rimmed eyes and hair that had been disheveled by her tugging fingers as she wept. It was not a sight she wanted her guests to witness, but there was no helping the servants witnessing it. They might as well become accustomed to seeing their mistress sad and broken. She had no doubt it would become a regular occurrence in the Duke's household after everything she'd overheard in the garden. This was not a marriage that could be happy given what it was built on. Lies and bargains were not a sound basis for love or camaraderie. Regardless of her disdain for marriage, even she knew a marriage built on lies would fail.

A portly woman who seemed to be in charge of the kitchens shuffled towards Eleanor, drying her hands on an apron. "Your Grace, I am Annie Bower, head cook here at His Grace's estate. What can I help you with?"

Eleanor took a shaky breath. Even the servants knew she was to wed their master before she did. "I need a wash basin to clean my face, a maid to fix my hair and a cup of strong tea before I can go out to entertain my guests, if you please."

"Right away, Your Grace." Annie turned to the rest of the staff. "Mary, begin the tea. Put a splash of brandy in it to settle Her Grace's nerves. Isabel, you will fetch a basin of water and a wash towel. Bring it upstairs to Her Grace's bedchamber. Then, you will help Her Grace with her hair until we can arrange a proper lady's maid for her."

A dark-haired slip of a girl rushed in the direction of the stove and pantry. Another girl with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes picked up a porcelain bowl and went to the water pump by the sink to fill it with fresh water. The cook took Eleanor's arm gently and led her out of the kitchens. "There now, Your Grace. Let me show you your rooms. You look exhausted."

"It has been a trying day," Eleanor murmured.

"Wedding days are always a bit overwhelming, even in the best of circumstances." The cook eyed her as they walked through the house. "And I have it from His Grace himself that today's circumstances are not the best."

Eleanor closed her eyes for a moment, her lips trembling. "No. They are not."

"His Grace is a good man, Your Grace. It will all work out in the end." Annie patted her hand gently and then led her up the grand staircase. "I know it may not seem so right now, but it will."

"While I appreciate your confidence in him, Annie, I suspect that will not be the case. He married me for my dowry after all."

Annie frowned but said nothing. It was clear she was forcing herself to remain silent. She had something she wished to say, likely in defense of her master. The head cook seemed devoted to Phillip, and Eleanor couldn't decide if that was a good thing or not. Until she gets to know the staff better, she wouldn't know if Annie simply had a great deal of faith in her master or if there was more to it.

"His Grace was kind enough to hire my husband to handle his stables when he had recently lost his employ with another household that could no longer afford to pay him. We all know that His Grace has been pouring thousands of pounds into this estate and our upkeep."

"It must be a relief to know he's found a rich bride, then."

Annie stopped in front of a door that needed a new coat of paint. "Our chief concern is with His Grace's happiness, Your Grace. We were all eager to meet you, and we hope you will be happy with him and he with you."

Eleanor looked away and stepped into the room. The windows were open to let in the fresh air, and a pretty pink and white checkered quilt had been draped over the large canopied bed. While there were signs of wear on the paint and drapes, the room had clearly been prepared with care. Perhaps the head cook really meant it when she said that the staff had been eager for her arrival.

"You may do as you wish to change the interior. His Grace has ordered that you should have whatever you please in here. If you do not like anything, we can?—"

"It is fine, Annie. Thank you."

Isabel slipped into the room with the basin of water and washcloth. She dipped into a curtsy and set both items on the small dressing table before the mirror. "For you, Your Grace. If you will sit here, I will fix your hair while you wash your face. Mary is nearly done with your tea and will bring it up in a few moments."

"Thank you, Isabel."

Annie cleared her throat. "If you no longer need anything from me, Your Grace, I will leave you in Isabel's capable hands."

"That will be fine, Annie. Thank you."

Annie left, and Isabel set to work on Eleanor's hair while she washed away the evidence of her tears and used some of the powder on the dressing table to cover any lingering redness. Mary slipped in with the tea, and Eleanor sipped at it until Isabel was done. By the time Eleanor had finished the hot tea and brandy, Isabel had fixed her hair so that there was no sign of the damage she'd done to it in the back garden. She set aside the empty cup and rose, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly before meeting Isabel's gaze. "Thank you. Would you please show me the way to the front door so that I may go back to the celebration? Tell Annie that I will become accustomed to my rooms as I will to a great many other things and that I do not wish to change anything."

Eleanor didn't want to leave her mark on Phillip's house as if she were an inhabitant rather than a prisoner. Isabel led her to the front door and curtsied again. "It was lovely to meet you, Your Grace. We all wish many blessings upon you and His Grace."

Forcing a smile, Eleanor nodded to the girl. "Thank you for your well wishes, Isabel." Perhaps she would ask the young woman to become her lady's maid. She seemed like a sweet-tempered, kind soul, and Eleanor could use someone like that at her side, especially in the early days of accustoming herself to the pain of being wed to a man who had betrayed her and hurt her more deeply than she had imagined possible. This was what came of believing fairytales existed. Rallying her courage, she stepped outside to rejoin the wedding party.