Chapter Six
Emma spent almost twenty-four hours locked in the duchess suite in an effort to avoid her husband.
The fact that he was allowing what happened to him in the war dictate the man he wished to be now had annoyance filling her chest. And it hadn’t dissipated since yesterday, especially since she’d had to avoid Poppy’s eyes when she’d come to help her retire last night.
As the midday sun filtered into her sitting room through the fine gauze curtains she remained at sixes and sevens regarding the duke.
Did he frighten her? Absolutely he did in this new persona.
Was she worried about him? Definitely, she was, for he seemed at times resigned about this state or full of anxiety.
Did she still care for him? Yes and no. While he infuriated her with this new arrogance, this dominant possessiveness, it somehow excited her in the same vein, but she refused to let him run roughshod over her as if she didn’t matter.
They were either in a partnership or they weren’t.
After dressing—Poppy never mentioned what happened yesterday afternoon—Emma wound through the manor until she reached the morning room.
It was one of her favorite places in the residence, and where she liked to take breakfast—or today, that meant the first meal of the day to break one’s fast and not necessarily breakfast type foods.
The room faced south, and she enjoyed having the morning sun on her face, but since they were well past those hours just now, it was still quite the pleasant room and view looking out into rear gardens and beyond.
The housekeeper was there ahead of her. Perhaps knowing Emma’s habits already, she had a pot of tea ready and waiting, along with a lovely spread of cold cuts, cheeses, and a bread loaf along with a tiny pot of her favorite raspberry jam, jarred and stored in the summertime.
“Thank you, Mrs. Gates. It’s so lovely to be taken care of each time I’m here.
” She appreciated the attention to detail, and as she accepted the delicate china teacup, she smiled at the older woman, who, if one squinted, vaguely resembled a cozy, domestic hedgehog in bombazine skirts and a lace-trimmed mobcap with half-moon spectacles perched on the end of her long nose.
“Well, dear, we are always happy to have you back. The manor just isn’t the same without your sunny disposition.
” No doubt the woman had made an appearance due to worry after Emma’s health and wellbeing, but Emma wisely said nothing while Mrs. Gates and one of the footmen plied her with tea and all her favorite nibbles.
If it was awkward for a few moments due to the footman being one of the men Cecil ordered out of her rooms yesterday, neither he nor the housekeeper mentioned it.
Eventually, she uttered a sigh of contentment as she sipped her tea.
It was good that someone remembered her, and it helped to soothe the ruffled feathers brought on by her husband’s monstrous behavior.
“You seem as if you have much on your mind, dear,” the housekeeper said. “Is there something I can assist you with? I don’t want to pry, of course.”
“Ah, dear Mrs. Gates. How I have missed you while in London.” Her own housekeeper was lovely, but there was something comforting about this woman. “There is much to think about just now. I’ll need to have a modiste in to order new gowns. The bulk of my recent wardrobe was left in London.”
“I suspected as much when you arrived half-frozen with no luggage.” Mrs. Gates nodded. Her eyes were kind behind the lenses of her spectacles. “I’ll make an appointment for you. Hopefully, one of the three modistes in the village will jump at the chance to outfit the Duchess of Thornton.”
“If my husband’s behavior hasn’t tarnished the name or made the seamstresses frightened of coming to the house.” She took a sip of tea. “But thank you. It’s lovely of you to do that.”
“It is the least I can do, Your Grace.” The housekeeper offered a warm smile that reminded Emma of her own mother, who had died a handful of years prior from complications of an infection of some sort.
“Additionally, we’ll need to discuss menus for the upcoming weeks that you will be in residence.
I assume you and His Grace will be here for a bit of time? ”
Despite the urge to give into hysterical laughter, Emma merely nodded.
“That is the assumption. I don’t believe my husband has any intentions of leaving for London soon.
” There were worse things than spending the remainder of winter in the country.
The fires were cozy, there were plenty of warm blankets, and she had his undivided attention as he’d said.
Then why did it feel so alarming to be alone with him?
“I am glad to have you here, though.” Mrs. Gates smiled again. “Will you throw the customary Valentine’s Day ball, then?”
The bit of bread she’d just popped into her mouth sucked up all available moisture. “I beg your pardon, but what?”
“Oh, yes.” The housekeeper nodded. “While His Grace was away in the war, it was an annual tradition to hold it in his absence. It was a lovely event that his parents used to hold each year to give the tenants and servants something to look forward to in the dark of winter.” Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Once his parents passed, in recent years, and while you were in London, his sister took up the planning and execution of the ball.”
This time Emma dropped the bit of cheese she held.
It fell unheeded onto her plate. “He has a sister? He never told me that.” Of course, there weren’t many guests at their nuptial ceremony, only a few distant cousins, and she couldn’t recall that he’d invited men from his club.
Two years ago, he was a retiring man if one prone to action.
Perhaps, however, he was merely still too shocked at what had happened to him during the war to let his true personality shine through.
Or what had become of him instead.
“Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry he’s kept secrets.
” The housekeeper patted Emma’s hand. “I’m not surprised, though, for his thoughts and actions are scattered at best. Why, it’s broken my heart to see him as he is now, so quiet and withdrawn, spending more time with his bees in the summer than entertaining friends.
” She shook her head. “Whatever occurred during the war above and beyond the incident that gave him those scars must have been horrific.”
“Does he suffer nightmares because of it?” He must, for she remembered what he’d admitted to her about nearly killing the maid.
“He does. At times, only his valet or perhaps the butler can snap him out of them.” Mrs. Gates tsked her tongue. “It is tragic.”
Why did he never tell her about all these things regarding his life, especially during the years where they’d written letters to each other? Was he ashamed? Did he not trust her? Or did he think they just didn’t matter to the life he was forced to live now?
Swallowing the bite of cheese, she asked, “Where is his sister now?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know, Your Grace.” The housekeeper shrugged.
“I haven’t seen her since he married. Perhaps she thought with you here, she was being edged out of the family traditions, and you two weren’t introduced in any event.
Mostly, when she couldn’t reach the duke through the darkness that holds him in its grip, she retired to the Lake District to spend time with her husband’s family. ”
Dear heavens, her husband had a sister who was married? “Is her husband there as well?”
“I don’t believe so. From what I’ve managed to gather, he’s been dead four years. Taken in one of the battles in the war.” Mrs. Gates shook her head. “Such a large loss the war was. Ruined so many lives.”
“Yes, it did.” And apparently still was if her husband was any indication. Then another thought occurred. “I’ll wager that is why his sister took care of things here, to help with her grief and hoped to help her brother through his.”
“Perhaps.”
Emma sighed. It was as if she were very much a newlywed again for all she didn’t know about the duke.
“Will you give me his sister’s direction?
I would like to write to her, introduce myself to her through letters, and somehow mend that bridge.
Perhaps if all goes well, she’ll come down in the late spring. ”
“I will, indeed, Your Grace.” She again patted Emma’s hand.
For a bit, silence brewed in the room. Even the footman remained as still as a statue.
Emma cleared her throat. “Is Thornton a terrible man, Mrs. Gates?” She desperately needed the counsel of someone who knew him better than she.
“He’s shut himself off from everyone he’s ever known, apparently.
” Perhaps that was out of perceived shame for how his looks had changed.
“He’s also blocked himself from the world he used to know.
It’s a wonder he even went to his club in London, but then, those men are much the same, I think, all struggling with their own demons, brought on by the war or not. ”
Mrs. Gates’ expression was guarded. “I believe His Grace is an honorable man, a good man. Did his duty to his country and the war effort. But came home changed in every way that mattered, no doubt because of what he’d seen, been forced to do.
” She paused as if considering her next words.
“The way he sees the world now is colored through those experiences and his own warped way of thinking. And his looks probably don’t help.
He’s struggling, thinks he’s failing in every aspect of life, truly believes he is worth nothing as he is. ”
How perfectly sad. And she’d had no idea he was fighting any of it. “Why did he marry me? He was disfigured at the time, and it didn’t seem to bother him then.”
“From what I understand of other men who have come back from the war, it takes time for those horrors to seep out, for such thoughts to flow and make a man realize exactly what happened to him.”
“Then he possibly won’t return to the man I used to know. The one I married.” It wasn’t a question.
“I couldn’t say, Your Grace.” Mrs. Gates shrugged.
“However, I think His Grace wants to be a better man, but what he fights against is powerful and he thinks he isn’t worthy of all that he has in this life.
” She pressed her lips together. “Plus, the dear duckie fell in love with you. That is a truth, and was a shock to all of us.”
“Why?” Learning about him was proving fascinating.
“Oh, the duke’s parents’ marriage was a dismal failure. They fought like cats and dogs. Hated each other. Mostly lived apart, he in London and she at one of the duke’s other properties.”
Which was something else Thornton struggled with. He thought he was becoming his father, and it, no doubt, grated against his soul… the soul of a gentle man who’d he’d been forced to hide the moment he stepped foot on his first battlefield.
“Do you think he can be saved? Pulled out of the darkness and encouraged to live his life without hating who he is?”
The housekeeper shrugged. “There is always a chance, a hope. Will he leave the darkness behind one hundred percent? Possibly not, but if he has someone help him fight it, I think it would make a difference.” Her eyes were kind as she held Emma’s gaze.
“Beneath his vices and his penchant for being alone, he is lonely and vulnerable, perhaps frightened of losing the battle with his fractured mind. I can’t imagine what he feels like on a daily basis, but I mourn for him and hope he finds peace. ”
So do I.
“I see.” She ate another few bites of food, washed it down with a few sips of tea.
“Might I ask you a personal question, Your Grace?”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Gates nodded. Her expression conveyed hope. “Do you still love your husband?”
Heat filled Emma’s cheeks. “I believe I do, deep down…”
The housekeeper clucked. “Or do you cling to a love you used to have? He is not that man any longer, might not ever be again. It requires a different sort of thinking.”
“Agreed.” Guarded and perhaps a bit defensive, Emma frowned. “What are you saying?”
A sigh escaped Mrs. Gates. “If you wish to remain with him, if you hope to help him through the worst of it, the best way to do that is to forget what he used to be. Try to fall in love with the man he is now. Perhaps work forward from there. Remembrances between you can be shared, of course, but he needs to be understood and loved for who he is in this moment, because he won’t do the same for himself until he is shown the way. ”
Why did his redemption depend on her? Why couldn’t she have that for herself? Wasn’t she lost and suffering as well? Why did society always assume it was the woman’s role to save the man?
I am in need of rescue too.
But she nodded. Perhaps she could save herself in the process of rescuing him.
“I will bear that in mind.” In many ways, what Mrs. Gates had said made sense.
His mind had essentially been injured, and remembering better times was like a new blow.
It would take patience to peel back the layers of protection to reach the man he was, convince him she wasn’t a threat and that he wasn’t a failure.
Do I have the strength for that?
There were no answers, but perhaps she would find the fortitude… somewhere. “Thank you, Mrs. Gates. I am more hopeful now than when I arrived here.”
Slowly, the housekeeper nodded. “I believe you are good for His Grace and that he is the same for you. The two of you together can be wonderful, just keep the faith.”
Emma allowed a small, tight smile. “I will try. In the meanwhile, please help me plan the Valentine’s Day ball and order the things we need. It’s a large undertaking, and it’s already late.”
“Don’t worry your head, Your Grace. Most of it has already been done. There are merely finishing touches and last-minute decisions on your part.” The housekeeper winked. “I wouldn’t let you fail in this or anything else.”
“You are a veritable lamb, Mrs. Gates. I knew there was a reason I adore you.” Perhaps everything else wouldn’t be as difficult as she thought either.