Chapter Six
The door closed behind him and Bea looked around her in awe, running her fingers over the polished wood of the cabinets. With a bubble of excitement, she raced over to the bed and threw herself on top of it, kicking her legs in disbelief.
She might not be able to read, but when she had been a little girl her mother had often told her the bedtime tale of Cendrillon.
She had loved the story of the young woman who had tried on the glass slipper.
When it fit, the handsome prince had chosen her to be his bride and she had been transformed into a princess.
She looked around her in disbelief and felt as if somehow, after years of being overlooked and overworked, that very miracle had happened to her.
But there was one huge difference. Edward might have told her he was choosing his own path, but they both knew he had felt obliged to marry her, to make Thomas his legitimate heir.
And there was no fairy godmother with a magic wand who could turn her into a duchess.
She would have to work hard if she wanted to be seen as one of the ladies of the ton.
She caught a look at herself in one of the gilded mirrors and sat up, trying to gather her thoughts. She barely recognised herself in these fine silk clothes and her hair fastened into a beautiful chignon, ringlets framing her face. Who was the woman staring back at her?
It was the wake-up call she needed that she must not get carried away.
This was merely a situation of convenience for all involved and it would only work while it suited Edward.
She must not forget he could cast her aside; send her away at any point if he so wished, if she didn’t live up to his standards.
Although she was starting to believe he was a decent man.
He wasn’t cruel. In fact, he had been more than fair.
Far too generous. Most importantly, he seemed to genuinely care about Thomas.
But that didn’t mean he cared about her.
Thomas…
Bea got up and went in search of Martha, heading back down the corridor the way Edward had brought her.
She wondered which was her husband’s room and what he was doing right now.
She must remember he married her to protect his reputation and that of his child, nothing else.
She should never let down her guard. She must not allow her head to be turned by the vast riches—or by him.
She peeked into the nursery, but there was no sign of her son, so she descended the grand staircase, feeling mightily out of place.
Martha and Thomas weren’t in the drawing room or the morning room either.
Popping her head round the door to the dining room, which, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, she saw was being elegantly laid out for dinner for two, she then carried on along the corridor.
She was excruciatingly aware that this was her wedding night.
The fact that she and Edward had separate chambers offered her little reassurance—might he still expect her to join him in his?
She tried to push the thought out of her mind as she continued to search for her boy.
She didn’t know how she would react if Edward tried to seduce her again.
She knew he had told her she wasn’t to go down into the servants’ quarters, but when she wasn’t able to find Martha, or even Mrs Potter, in this vast place, she began to panic about her son’s whereabouts.
She decided to ignore the rules. She pushed open the door and made her way down the steam-filled passageway and into the bustling kitchen.
It was alive with chatter and heat, delicious smells making her taste-buds tingle.
It was like being back in the kitchen at the inn, only on a far grander scale.
When a young cook saw her, her mouth fell open and she nudged the person next to her. Whispers rippled around the room until everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to stare.
Bea felt her face heat at the scrutiny. ‘I’m looking for Mrs Potter.’ Bea said, speaking loudly to be heard.
The girl who had spotted her pointed silently in the direction of the doorway, which led out to the kitchen garden. Bea thanked her and looked back at all the faces of the people watching on in awe. There was no need. As far as she was concerned, there was no difference between them and her.
‘How do you do?’ she said, flustered, before giving a little curtsey and retreating out the door, glad of the cool air hitting her heated face.
She wandered through the herbs and spices and up the steps into grassier grounds.
‘Lady Edward Harrington!’ Mrs Potter screeched, horrified to see her coming from the kitchens.
‘Ah, Mrs Potter. I’m looking for Martha and Thomas. Have you seen them?’
‘You should have rung the bell!’ the woman fretted. ‘You should not be out here. What will Lord Harrington think of this? He will be most displeased. I shall never hear the end of it.’
Still, the older woman bustled her round the corner onto a small terrace, where Bea finally caught sight of Martha and her son, sitting in the shade.
Her hand came up across her chest, relieved to see them both, and she rushed forward to retrieve Thomas from the woman’s arms. They had only been apart for a short amount of time, but she had missed him.
‘How has he been? Thank you for taking care of him,’ she said, expressing her gratitude as she lowered herself down onto the bench.
‘He’s all right, my lady, but I couldn’t persuade him to take his rest—no matter how much I rocked him, walked with him and sang to him.
Eventually, we thought the scent of the lavender in the garden here might soothe him.
I’ve been trying to keep him diverted. It is your wedding day, after all.
I knew better than to disturb you. He did have a little bread soaked in milk earlier—he seemed to enjoy it. ’
They had started to wean him on milk puddings and mashed vegetables, and Thomas had been sleeping well, but Bea had wondered if this was the beginning of her losing him, little by little, to a world she didn’t belong in.
Now others could feed him and comfort him, not just her.
Yet it was also liberating to have some freedom again—and she was extremely glad of the help.
The moment she took Thomas in her arms, her son drifted off.
It reassured her that perhaps she was still needed.
She sat and conversed with the two women for a while, their easy exchange marked by the familiarity of having worked in similar positions.
She wondered what they thought about her and Edward’s union, but she knew better than to allow her thoughts to take a tour down that path.
What purpose could it serve, to dwell on their judgement?
No benefit could come of it. Instead, she asked about Martha’s previous household and discovered Mrs Potter had been here at Longwood for almost thirty years.
She imagined the woman had many stories she could share about Edward and his brother growing up, and Bea longed to hear them.
She forced herself to be restrained, telling herself she had time to learn it all.
She was glad of their companionship and support—she wasn’t sure she would have survived her first few days here without these women.
When Thomas grew heavy in her arms, Martha offered to take him back to the nursery and Mrs Potter urged Bea to return upstairs to dress for dinner, insisting she went through the garden to the main entrance, not the way she came—below stairs.
Bea took her time, strolling through the landscaped grounds, admiring the ornamental pond and the tinkling sound of water cascading from the fountain.
She soaked in the scent of the beautiful flowers, bursting into bloom.
But as she rounded the corner towards the house, she collided with something solid, something warm.
Edward.
‘There you are!’
His deep voice startled her, as did the impact of her body crashing into his broad chest. His hands came up to steady her, his vivid blue eyes darkening as they stared down at her, and she felt a responsive heat ignite deep in her belly.
She pulled back.
‘I wondered where you were, when you were not in your room.’
He’d been back to her chamber—why? Her stomach tightened. She had thought they were meeting in the dining room.
He had changed out of his morning suit and into a striking black tailcoat, crisp white shirt and navy cravat.
‘I came to find you for dinner, thinking you must be hungry. I imagine your trip downstairs took it out of you.’ He delivered the disapproving line with a single raised eyebrow and her breath halted.
‘Were you following me?’
‘I am surprised at your total lack of regard for the rules. Mrs Potter should also know better.’
‘It wasn’t her fault!’
He sent her a look. ‘No, I gathered that. I thought I told you not to go down there.’
She bit her lip. Was he cross with her already?
‘You promised to honour and obey me today. The new lady of the household should not be spending time in the servants’ quarters, especially not on her wedding day.
You are lucky it was me who discovered you had been down there and not the Duke.
’ He raked a hand through his hair. ‘Bea, you have been here less than an hour. Are you trying to provoke him—or me? You could at least try to remember his pride knows no bounds.’
She ran a hand over her brow. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Is my company that distasteful to you that you feel you need to seek conversation elsewhere?’
‘Of course not.’ She bit her lip. ‘I just…panicked when I couldn’t find Thomas. I’m not used to being separated from him—others looking after him instead of me.’