Chapter 13
" F rancine, do you believe in ghosts?"
It had been a difficult night's sleep once more.
After her encounter with Morgan, Dorothy had hoped to sleep well and wake late in the morning, but she was out of bed just after dawn.
Francine had arrived to prepare her for the day, but Dorothy could not think of much other than the dream she had had.
The house was groaning, a girl's voice echoing through the halls.
It called out to Dorothy, begging her to help her and growing more and more desperate.
Dorothy ran through the household trying to rescue her, trying to follow her pleas, but each time she saw the slight figure and reached out, she could not quite get to her.
At last, the girl turned to her, but her face contorted a hundred different ways, and then she screamed.
It had been the reason why Dorothy was awake so early. She was covered in sweat and breathing heavily, and she wanted to change her clothes so that she could forget about it.
"What an odd question," Francine noted, brushing Dorothy's hair. "Why do you ask?"
"Curiosity, I suppose."
"Well, no, I do not. My aunt did, though. She was positive that she saw something in the garden once, but my uncle says it was him."
"I see," she replied, dejected.
She had been hoping that her lady's maid believed in them, so that she could tell her what she saw in the west wing of the household when she was out in the garden.
It had been a strange situation, but she tried to forget about it.
It had been the heat and nothing more, she was positive.
Ghosts were not real, and she knew that.
"Do you believe in them, Your Grace?"
"Of course not. Well… Suppose I did think I saw one. Would I be sent away to Bedlam?"
"Not by me, no. Why, did you see one?"
"I may have. It must have been my mind playing tricks on me, though. It was when I was out in the garden. I thought I saw a little girl."
"There are no little girls here."
"No, which is why I believe I made it up. I must have been tired, and hot, and not thinking properly. I ought to take better care of myself."
Francine looked at her as if in thought, and Dorothy wondered what she was thinking.
She pictured an older woman that looked like her, positive that phantoms were real and that she had truly seen one.
She tried to think back to what she had seen, but she could not picture the little girl a second time other than her perfect golden curls.
"It has been a difficult time," Francine reasoned. "A lot has changed, and it is no surprise that you are so tired. Perhaps you should rest a while?"
"I should, but there is far too much to do. I wish to see the garden, as His Grace has told me I can change some things, and I must try and help Mrs. Herrington. Against all odds, I will make her accept me."
Francine bit her lip, uncertain of that.
Dorothy felt quite the same, but she wanted to try.
If there was any chance that she could mend things with Mrs. Herrington, she would have to make the effort to become the right sort of duchess, and in spite of what her husband had promised her she wanted to be good enough.
When she was ready, she went down to breakfast. Morgan was not there, which seemed odd to her but as it had been a late night she tried not to think about it.
There was a chance he was still asleep, as he had no reason to have nightmares and awaken too soon.
It was strange to eat in silence again, but she did not mind it.
It gave her time to think of all of the ways she could be better as a duchess, so that she would please her housekeeper.
After breakfast, she found Mrs. Herrington in the linen room, making strange huffing noises. She joined her, and at once saw what the issue was. The linens were strewn about, which struck her as very bizarre indeed.
"What has happened?" she asked.
"Johnson brought the new supplies in," she grunted. "He did not pile them correctly, and they have fallen."
"Oh! Allow me to help you."
"Absolutely not," she snapped. "That is not for you to do."
"Perhaps not, but the sooner this is fixed the sooner we can tackle something else."
She heard her make a few noises in objection, but she ignored them. Instead, she took a tablecloth that had fallen and folded it neatly, placing it in the correct part. She then took a bed linen and did the same thing. Mrs. Herrington watched her do so with wide eyes.
"Where did you learn to do this?" she asked. "A duchess should not know how to fold like that."
"I was clumsy as a girl. I dropped no end of things, so I learned how to fix them afterward. I also spent some time with the servants in my parents' house, as when my sister left I did not have anyone to speak to."
The housekeeper did not respond, instead shrugging and taking another linen and folding it. They both continued until all of it was done, and then Mrs Herrington turned to leave without her. Dorothy followed behind.
"Your Grace, there is no need for you to assist me. I know what I am doing."
"I know, and that is precisely why I wish to follow you. I want to learn, and I want to be helpful."
"It would be most helpful if you left me alone."
"Mrs. Herrington, I know that you do not like me, and that you are suspicious of my intentions, but I promise you that I only want what is best for the family.
I intend to be a good duchess, and I would like more than anything for you to help me with that.
I know it is a lot to ask, but you would have my gratitude for it. "
She tutted, but she then gestured for Dorothy to follow her.
"Come along, then. We must order supplies."
They met with the steward in the servants' quarters, and Mrs. Herrington pulled a list out of a pocket and handed it to him. He read it over and then looked to Dorothy.
"Is there anything else you would like to add?" he asked. "His Grace informed me that you wished to make some changes to your room."
"Oh! Well, I– I shall need to think about that first. Is that all right?"
"Of course. It is entirely your own choice, you know."
He was smiling at her, and Dorothy could not help but do the same. It was as Morgan had promised her; they would be patient with her, and she had time to learn everything.
When they were done with the steward, they went to the drawing room and Mrs. Herrington looked at her with curiosity.
"I was not made aware that you wished to make changes."
"It has only just been decided. I was going to tell you myself, but I do not even know what it is that I wish to do as yet."
"Well, what do you wish to change?"
All of it, she thought, though she did not wish to say it that way.
"I would like it to be brighter," she explained. "For the most part. When it comes to my own rooms, I would prefer the colors to be a little less bright."
"I see. I have often thought that it was quite dark here, but it was what the late Duke wanted, and so nobody questioned him. When His Grace did not change it, I assumed that I was simply wrong."
"No, you were correct, as you are about most things. The Duke agrees, too, but he has not thought to change it. I do not think we need to change very much, only the walls and some of the furniture. What do you think?"
Mrs. Herrington nodded, and they agreed to take a look at some of the rooms and discuss what needed to change.
It was a pleasant encounter, Dorothy thought, and her housekeeper was nicer than ever to her.
It was good to be treated like someone she respected, rather than someone she wanted to be rid of.
As time passed, she realized that they actually agreed on more things than she had expected.
Eventually, they came to her room, and when they entered, she saw Mrs. Herrington's grimace.
"This is… the late Duchess certainly had particular tastes."
Dorothy laughed gently.
"His Grace told me that it had not been her decision. The late Duke wanted to have her rooms be bright, but she never felt the same."
"Nor would I have. What would you like to have instead?"
"Green. A light green, with perhaps some floral wallpaper?"
"Yes, that would be much nicer. His Grace's father tried to be good to his family, but sometimes there was just no changing his mind. Fortunately, his son is more inclined to accept other opinions."
"I am pleased about that. I do understand and appreciate tradition, but sometimes they have to be broken."
"Is that to say that you break other rules?"
Dorothy looked at her kindly, not wanting to ruin the good time that they had had together but also not wanting to pretend that some things had not taken place.
"Mrs. Herrington, I know that you have been telling the Duke all of the things you dislike about me, including my pitfalls."
She reddened slightly, and Dorothy pitied her.
"I want you to know," she continued, "that I understand. I know that you have been doing extraordinarily well with the household, and that my arrival was sudden and possibly unplanned for you."
"It certainly was. I knew that he would one day take a wife, but I had at least thought that I would have time to prepare.
It is not your fault, Your Grace, and I must apologize for my behavior.
I have been the only one running the household for years, as there has not been a lady in the household since the death of the late Duchess. "
"I understand. I know that you like being in charge of all of this, and I cannot say that I blame you for being angry that I have such little knowledge, but I would so like to be good at this, so that I might be a help to you, rather than a hindrance."
The housekeeper smiled, which Dorothy could hardly believe, and then nodded.
"This household is all that I have. I never had children, or a home of my own, and so this has always been the one thing that I could take care of. I was like you, and I wanted to do it perfectly."
"And you do. I want to learn everything you know, so that I can be as good as you one day."
At last, it truly felt like they had come to an understanding. It felt good to be needed, even better to be useful, and Dorothy knew that it was only the beginning, and that they would do a lot of good together, which would begin with the changes she wished to make to the decorations.
"I ought to speak with my husband about all of the work I plan to do," she considered. "Might you know where he is? I have not seen him all day."
Mrs. Herrington looked away, biting her lip.
"The Duke will be away for a short while," she explained. "He has to go to London."
Dorothy furrowed her brow, remembering what he had told her. When they were married, he never planned on leaving the household. They would not attend events, and she had accepted that, but if that was what he wanted then why had he been so quick to leave?
"It is for business purposes," Mrs. Herrington continued. "I thought he had told you."
"He did not. I do not understand."
"It has nothing to do with you, I assure you. He is not avoiding you, if that is what you are thinking."
"No, it is not that. He told me that we would not be leaving the manor, and I had assumed that would be the case for both of us."
"It typically is, believe me, but this has been unavoidable. If he did not have to be away, he would not be."
But there was something in her eye, and Dorothy saw it. She was hiding something, and Dorothy knew that no matter what she said, she would not find out what that was.
"Very well," she replied softly, "I understand."
It was a lie, but she had to protect the bond that she had made. It was upsetting to know that she was not truly considered part of the household, but that was something she would have to be used to.
In the meantime, as she would not be able to leave and see her friends, there was no reason why she could not bring her friends to her.
She left for her room, and sat at her desk with her stationery scattered around her.
She wrote three identical letters, and had them sent off with a request that the recipients had them as quickly as possible.
She had plans for the household, and she needed all of the help that she could get, even if one of the three ladies she had invited could not do very much in the condition that she was in.
Having done all that she could for the moment in terms of finding support, she made a list of all of the things she would need. It was long, and extensive, and there was every chance that time would be needed to find all of the necessary things.
Fortunately, with her husband's absence, she would have the time for that.