Chapter 6
“Before we arrive,” Beatrice asked as they neared their home, “might you tell me something honestly?”
Owen was curious in an instant, for she had hardly spoken during their journey.
“Indeed, I will.”
“Do you have money?”
It was certainly a question he had not expected, but then the wedding was not as extravagant as one would have anticipated, either. He chuckled, tapping her knee gently.
“Why do you ask? The wedding would have been greater had there been more time to prepare, for what it is worth.”
“I know, but… Helena has told me what you have given her and her love. It is a lot of money, and while I am so pleased that you have offered it, I wish to understand our situation as well as possible.”
Owen did not take any offence to her question. If anything, he liked that she asked him because it meant she was aware of money, which meant she was less likely to squander it.
“And if I told you that we have very little?” he asked.
“I would not care. I do not know quite how much my dowry was worth, but I shall not pretend that I come from the wealth of many others in the ton. I know what it means to be frugal, especially considering I was prepared to fend for myself. If Helena and her child are taken care of, then I do not mind living with less.”
Owen was relieved to have married someone so realistic. Most ladies that wanted dukes had ulterior motives, a determination to live a lavish lifestyle, but he could tell that she truly could not have cared less for wealth.
“In any case,” he smiled, “you shall not have to. Our estate is sizable, and even with us taking care of your friend, you will live very comfortably.”
“Our?” she echoed.
“Well, yes. You are my wife now, are you not?”
“Yes, but that does not mean that I have any claim to your–”
She stopped, seemingly realizing that she did, indeed, have a claim to his estate. It was as much her own now, and with everything happening so quickly it made sense that she had not realized that yet.
In less than two weeks, Beatrice had gone from a lowly spinster to one of the most influential ladies in London. It would take anyone a long time to come to terms with that.
“In that case,” she continued, “I am pleased to know where we stand. You should know that I am not a lady with expensive tastes, however, and so if you want me to match the estate then I will need some things.”
“Is this your way of asking for new clothes?”
He liked the way she turned red at the suggestion, the way she quickly tried to explain herself so that he did not think badly of her.
She was a sweet lady, and she certainly cared a lot about what he thought of her.
He liked that she was eager to please, but it concerned him all the same that she was so amenable.
“Can I ask you something now?” he asked, and she nodded. “Have you always been afraid to speak your mind?”
She quietened; her hands folded neatly in her lap as she looked out of the window. Owen wondered for a moment if he had said the wrong thing, for he did not want to upset her. He only wished to know more about her.
“I have,” she answered at last. “But it is not because I have no thoughts. It is because it is easier not to say anything. If I speak, the words I use are no longer mine. They are for others to use as they see fit, and to mold to suit themselves and their views. I do not want to be seen as anything that I am not, and so I do not give anyone the chance to misunderstand me.”
“But, in doing so, does that not mean that you are misunderstood regardless? You seem like a lady with a lot to say, and if you are seen as quiet, then you are misunderstood.”
“Indeed, but at least it is on my terms. I have very little control, but I have always been able to decide how I am seen this way. I know it seems foolish, but it is something.”
He wanted to tell her that he understood, but he did not.
It made very little sense to him, for when she felt strongly about something there were glimpses of the real her, and he liked that side of her.
Then again, he had not known her for very long at all, and he did not know very much about her either.
It was entirely possible that she had learned to silence herself, and if that were the case then it would take a long time for her to change.
They came to a halt outside of Everthorne Hall, and Owen knew how she would react to it.
It was an imposing feat of architecture, gray stone walls towering over whoever stood before it and stained-glass windows sparkling.
It was beautiful, but even Owen had to admit that there were times when it more closely resembled a prison than a home.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“It- it is lovely,” she stammered. “Truthfully, I did not know what to expect.”
“The housekeeper, Mrs. Forsythe, can tell you more about it during your tour of the grounds. She is very passionate about the history of the household.”
“And as for you?”
“It has been in my family for generations, and now it is mine. There is nothing more to it than that.”
He wished that he had fond memories to recount to her, or that he remembered any of the history, but there was nothing. It was a household to him, but not a home.
Not anymore.
“Come,” he instructed, “we shall introduce you to the staff, and then we will have dinner. There are some things we must discuss.”
She nodded without any argument, and they walked the steps into the household.
Owen had not realized just how many servants he had until he saw them lined up.
Each one bowed or curtseyed as they passed, smiling at Beatrice.
He watched her face as they entered the hallway, surprised and overwhelmed.
Her small lips parted, as if she were about to speak, but they promptly closed again.
“I should get ready for dinner,” she whispered.
“That would be best, yes, unless you wish to remain in your gown. I rather like it.”
She eyed him carefully, clearly looking for a sign of irony, but he was serious. She looked beautiful in white. She turned, her new lady’s maid accompanying her to her room.
“Did she not have her own lady’s maid?” Mrs. Forsythe asked. “It was no trouble to find one for her, but it is terribly strange.”
“She was a spinster,” Owen explained. “Her father did not think that she needed one anymore. He was not expecting her to marry and had her doing a lot for herself.”
“How unfortunate. Do you suppose–”
She stopped herself. Owen chuckled, knowing that his housekeeper always had thoughts, but she remembered her place more than he would have liked. She had been his father’s housekeeper for too long.
“Go on,” he prompted.
“Well, do you suppose that the decision was financial? They were all too eager to marry her off to a man they did not know, after all.”
“I would not have said so. The Jennings family are very serious, and I would say they are social climbers, but they seemed relatively well off.”
“But her gown–”
“Was all that could be made in the span of a week,” he explained, and Mrs. Forsythe gasped.
“But you had a month to prepare. I thought that the wedding gown would be the first thing that she would have planned.”
It was then that he realized that he had not made them aware of his situation.
They had been planning for the arrival of Lady Helena, not Lady Beatrice.
As far as the household, including Mrs. Forsythe, was aware, the wedding had been planned perfectly, and all was in hand.
They did not know that said wedding had been ruined, and that a second had been arranged and held a week later.
With a sigh, he took her to his study and explained everything, including the predicament that Lady Helena faced.
He could see the sorrow in her eyes as he recounted it all.
She was a sensitive lady, and he liked that about her.
He had met a few housekeepers, and they had been strict and uptight, which he could not have coped with in his own domain.
His household was cold enough without the people inside making it worse.
“You are an excellent man for helping her,” she said after a moment. “I cannot believe that you would have passed her child as your own.”
“I would have done what was necessary. I could not bear the thought of her being ruined simply because she had fallen in love. What was I to do? I could not turn her away after she had sought me out and been so honest.”
Mrs. Forsythe sighed with a smile, patting his shoulder the way she did when he was a boy.
“I am most proud of the man you have become, but please do not let yourself be taken advantage of. You make it easy to do so.”
“I do not,” he protested, but he knew it was the truth.
He wished to take care of others, no matter who they were. He wanted the people around him to be happy, and he was usually able to make it so. There was nothing he loved more than seeing the appreciation on people’s faces when he did the right thing.
But it did come at a cost, and he had been burned before. It should have turned him away from his need to please, but it had not. If anything, his past trials had only made him more determined to find someone who would accept his kindness without selfish motives.
When his wife returned in a gown of pale blue, he wondered if she could be the person who would appreciate him—and accept his gentle nature without qualms.
“I shall be with you in a moment,” he told her. “I am discussing some things with Mrs. Forsythe.”
She nodded, leaving them be. Mrs. Forsythe turned to him with surprise.
“I was not expecting a lady like her, I must say. She is terribly quiet, not to mention… short in stature.”
“She is not particularly what I expected of a wife either, but she is a sweet lady.”
“A sweet lady who ruins weddings.”
“She is a friend of Lady Helena, who just so happened to have lied about the circumstances surrounding the marriage. She had claimed that it was not what she wanted, an arrangement between fathers, and so Lady Beatrice did what she thought was right.”
“So, she is like you,” she nodded. “It will either be a perfect match, or you shall both be incapable of standing your ground.”
Had it been anyone else, he would have scolded them, but he knew her intention in saying such words. It was a reminder not to let himself be walked over, for that was the last thing a duke should allow.
They went to dinner, and Owen wondered if his wife would be able to eat anything after how grand their wedding breakfast had been.
She ate everything, though, which he was rather impressed by, and placed her knife and fork properly at the end of each course.
At least, he thought, she had manners despite what her actions might have led one to believe.
“You wished to discuss something?” she reminded him as dessert was served.
“Yes, of course. I know that this is your home, now, but as you will expect we have ways of living here that are to be respected. It helps to ensure that the household is run properly.”
“Of course. My mother and father had plenty of rules for me, so I will not find any difficulty with yours.”
“I would rather that we do not refer to them as rules. It makes me sound more like a father than a husband.”
“Very well, then I shall be more than happy to respect your ways of living.”
He chuckled at the way she took things. It was not that she was serious, but she interpreted all his words in the most literal sense, and it was rather endearing.
“For one, whatever Mrs. Forsythe says goes, even if it contradicts me.”
She was shocked at the comment, her hand raising to her lips.
“It is unconventional, I know,” he continued, “but she has been running the household for years and given that I only took this title three years ago, it is for the best that we listen to her first.”
“Very well,” she agreed. “Is that to say that I should ask her if I need anything, rather than you?”
“For the most part. As it pertains to our appearances at events, I will know more, but for anything else she should be your first port of call.”
She nodded, waiting for him to continue.
He realized, then, that the words he had planned would be harder to say in practice when she was sitting across from him.
He had expected it to be easy, for he had expected her to assume as much, but she looked at him with innocence in her eyes, and he hoped that he was not about to hurt her feelings.
“I assume you are aware that we shall live separate lives,” he said. “With the circumstances surrounding our match, I thought it might be best that we do as we please in the home and only portray the couple in love when we are out in society.”
He hated the way she looked at him.
She placed her fork on her plate and did not eat another bite.
Part of him wanted to ask if she had something else in mind, but he could not change his ways and so he did not want to make her believe that he could.
He had chosen the sensible thing, and that could not be changed either.
He was a relatively new duke, and he had to be seen as an honorable man, which would be swayed if he was viewed as a man who did whatever his wife wanted.
“That is fine,” she replied quietly. “I understand my place perfectly well, Your Grace.”
She wiped her mouth with her napkin and left without another word. Owen wanted to call after her, to explain himself, but his mouth remained closed. She needed time alone, and he understood that.
Even if he hated that she was upset.