Chapter 8 #2
Sadly, it only raised more questions in her head rather than providing answers. The duke was clearly a man who ruled his estate with practicality but kept the world at a distance.
“Has there ever been a ball here?” Rachel asked. “Since he took his title?”
Agnes shook her head. “No, Your Grace.”
“I see,” Rachel noted. “Well, I do not wish to keep you from your work for much longer. I just wished to come here and give my greetings.”
Agnes nodded furiously. “Yes, thank you, Your Grace,” she said, curtsying once more.
The day was finally coming to a close. She had decided in her head that she would avoid the duke, but she had expected to see him at least once.
However, it appeared that he was not even home.
Where was he?
She could not help but conjure all manner of scenarios in her mind. If he was not at home, perhaps he was in the company of another person.
Was it possible that he was with another woman?
The thought had appeared out of nowhere, and she surprised herself. Even if he was, would he ever tell her?
She could not help but wonder if this was what he had truly meant when he said ‘freedom.’ Was it the freedom to see other women? Surely, he was not like that?
Still, the question had firmly planted itself in her mind now, and it was hard not to ponder over it. She moved towards the window, hoping to catch sight of him returning home, but he was nowhere to be seen.
Another thought occurred to her, this one even more dangerous than the last. He must be spending his nights with someone else. That must be the reason why he did not wish to spend them with her.
Her knees almost buckled at the thought alone, and she could feel a sinking feeling in her chest. She had no reason to think such a thing. He had never given her a reason, other than his rules, his distance, his refusal to let her in.
She shook her head, frustrated with herself. “Stop this.”
But the doubt lingered, and Rachel knew she would drive herself crazy thinking over it alone in her room.
So she ventured outside. It was not yet that late that all of the staff would be asleep. Perhaps she could find some company.
That is when she ran into Agnes in the corridor.
Good. Just the person that she could speak to.
“Agnes,” Rachel approached cautiously, “have you a moment?”
“Of course, Your Grace,” Agnes said immediately. “How may I be of help?”
“I was just wondering, is it normal for His Grace to return home so late?” Or perhaps not at all.
She did not dare voice the second part, only for the reason that it made her angry beyond belief.
“His Grace might be busy with work. I am afraid that I am not privy to his usual schedule as he is quite discreet about when he comes and goes.” Agnes offered with a small smile, perhaps knowing herself that it was not so useful.
“Ah, I see,” Rachel sighed. “And, one more thing. Do you know… well, do you know what is kept in the attic? Old trunks? Documents?”
Agnes froze for a split second, slightly red in the face now. “I’m afraid I don’t know, Your Grace.”
Rachel frowned. “Surely the staff goes up there from time to time. It must need tending to like the rest of the house.”
Agnes shook her head, avoiding Rachel’s gaze. “His Grace gave strict orders that no one was ever to enter the attic. He’s the only one allowed.”
“But why? What could be so important that even the staff is forbidden?” It was more of a question to herself than to Agnes.
“I couldn’t say,” Agnes replied, carefully. “None of us has ever been up there. His Grace… well, he has his reasons, I’m sure.”
Rachel studied the maid, noting the tension in her shoulders and the way she avoided meeting her eyes. There was more to this than Agnes was letting on, but Rachel knew better than to press her further. Whatever was in the attic, it was clear the staff had been sworn to silence.
Or that they did not know themselves, which would make the situation all the more strange.
“There is one thing I can tell you,” Agnes spoke again, though her voice was now a hushed whisper, “but I am not sure if it is really my place—”
“Please, I would like to know,” Rachel pressed.
“Well,” Agnes started, looking around her as though she was scared that someone might hear. “I have noticed that… whenever His Grace does go up there, he seems to return angrier than before.”
“Angrier?” Rachel asked. Why? That made little sense.
“It is just what I have observed,” the maid noted.
Rachel paused for a moment, wondering if she should press for more questions, but then she realized that this was likely the only information that the maid had, so it was best to dismiss her.
“Thank you, Agnes,” Rachel said finally, forcing a smile. “It is late. I shall leave you now. Good night.”
What could he possibly keep there? And why was he so insistent that no one—not even his wife—was allowed to enter?
Maybe I could see for myself.
She lingered around the entrance, wondering if she was willing to break the duke’s rules. But before she could make any decision, she was interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps echoing down the hall.
She turned sharply to see Simon striding towards her. When he noticed her standing there, he hastened his pace.
“What are you doing here? I have told you the attic is off limits,” he said, anger dripping from his voice.
“I was just—” she paused, glancing at the attic door before returning her gaze to him. “I was curious.”
Best not to lie when she had been caught like this.
Simon’s lips thinned, his eyes narrowing.
“Curiosity—if left unchecked—can be a very dangerous thing, Duchess,” he said. “Haven’t I made myself clear about the attic?”
Rachel bristled at his tone. “You’ve made plenty of things clear, Simon. But what you haven’t done is explain. How am I supposed to abide by your rules when you won’t even tell me why they exist?”
He stepped closer. “We have gone over this conversation. It seems that the lack of sleep has eroded your memory,” he remarked snarkily. “It would be best for you to go to sleep, Duchess. And not poke your nose into matters that do not concern you.”
With that, he simply left her standing there, flaring with anger and confusion, not to mention frustration.
And then, something more.
One thing was for certain. Whatever it was in that attic could make him angrier than she had ever seen him. So one could safely surmise that whatever was in there was a secret due to its importance.
A secret that her husband was keeping from her. She had always thought that there were to be no secrets between a husband and a wife, but her own experience was shaping up to be different.
And it could only make her wonder, were there more secrets? Even as she tried to find out everything she could about her husband, he was ultimately the only one who could give her the truth that she required.