Chapter Four #2
“I trust that you’ve found everything satisfactory?” he asked, offering his arm.
“Very much so.” Charlotte placed her hand on his sleeve, acutely aware of his solid presence beside her. “Mrs Walden has been most thorough in explaining the household arrangements.”
They descended the stairs together, their steps falling into natural rhythm.
“Mrs Walden is an excellent housekeeper,” William said. “She helped restore order after...”
He stopped abruptly.
“After your father’s death?” Charlotte ventured gently.
His arm tensed beneath her fingers.
“Yes. She never complained about the reduced staff or limited resources. She simply found ways to maintain standards with what was available.”
They entered the dining room, where William led her to her place at the opposite end of the table from his own.
The distance felt symbolic somehow, emphasising the formal nature of their relationship, despite their newly married state.
The footmen moved silently around them, serving each course with practiced efficiency.
She couldn’t help but compare it to how things had been at Westbridge House, where cheerful conversation had been the order of the day at all but the most formal of dinners.
For a moment, she was struck by a pang of loneliness, homesickness.
“I noticed that the library is particularly fine,” she said, once the soup had been served. “Do you spend much time there?”
“Most evenings,” William replied. “The light is excellent until quite late in summer, and in winter the fireplace draws well.” He paused, then added, “You’re welcome to use it, of course. I believe you’ll find a reasonable selection of novels among the more practical volumes.”
Charlotte noted the slight emphasis on ‘practical’, but chose to smile instead of bristling.
“Thank you. Though I confess, I’m as likely to be found reading agricultural treatises as novels these days. Father encouraged me to understand estate management.”
William’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth.
“Did he indeed?”
“Yes. He said that every educated person should understand the basic principles of land management, regardless of their sex.” Charlotte kept her tone carefully light. “I found the subject quite fascinating, particularly the new methods being developed for crop rotation and soil improvement.”
Something flickered in William’s grey eyes - surprise, perhaps, or reassessment.
“Lord Westbridge has always been known for his progressive farming methods.”
“He has.” Charlotte accepted the fish course. “I understand you’ve made significant improvements to Alverton’s productivity since assuming control.”
“Out of necessity.” His tone grew clipped. “The estate had been badly neglected.”
Charlotte recognised the warning signs of withdrawal in his rigid posture. Changing tack, she spoke again.
“The gardens seem very extensive. Mrs Walden mentioned that there used to be citrus trees in the conservatory?”
“My mother’s particular passion.” His expression softened slightly at the memory. “She had oranges and lemons year-round and grew exotic flowers that filled the house even in deepest winter.”
“It must have been lovely.”
“It was.” William signalled for his wine to be refilled. “But such luxuries were among the first things we had to abandon when...”
He stopped, his expression closing again. Charlotte gathered her courage.
“Surely now, with the estate’s prosperity restored, some such pleasures might be reconsidered? Not as luxuries, but as practical additions to the household’s resources?”
William studied her across the expanse of damask and silver.
“You seem very interested in household management for one so recently arrived.”
“I am interested in everything that affects Alverton’s wellbeing,” Charlotte replied steadily. “As your Duchess, how could I be otherwise?”
The silence stretched between them, broken only by the soft sounds of the footmen’s movements. Finally, William spoke.
“You may discuss possibilities with Mrs Walden. Within reason.”
It wasn’t exactly enthusiasm, but Charlotte recognised it as permission to begin making her own mark on the household.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
“William,” he corrected quietly. “When we are private, remember?”
Colour rose in her cheeks.
“Yes... William.”
Their eyes met across the candlelit table, and for a moment Charlotte felt that strange connection again - as if they were on the verge of understanding each other, if only they could find the right words.
Then William looked away, returning his attention to his plate, and the moment was lost. Still, it gave her hope – for surely, there was some warmth there, below his frosty exterior?
The remainder of dinner passed in a strange dance of tentative conversation and careful silences. Charlotte found herself watching William surreptitiously, trying to reconcile the stern Duke with the man who had thought to have her rooms redecorated, and who still mourned his mother’s conservatory.
As the final course was cleared away, William spoke again.
“I usually retire to the library after dinner. Would you... that is, you might wish to join me? If you’re not too fatigued from travelling?”
Charlotte’s heart leapt at this unexpected invitation.
“I would like that very much.”
The library proved to be even more welcoming in the evening light, with lamps lit and a small fire taking the edge off the summer night’s coolness. William gestured her towards one of the comfortable chairs near the windows, then moved to pour them both a small glass of madeira.
“I thought that, perhaps, we might discuss your duties as Duchess,” he said, handing her a glass. “There are certain social obligations that cannot be ignored, despite my personal preferences.”
“Of course.” Charlotte accepted both the wine and the subject change gracefully. “I assume that you’ll want me to begin making calls on the local gentry soon?”
“When you’re properly settled.” William remained standing, his tall figure silhouetted against the firelight.
“Mrs Walden can advise you on the proper order of precedence. Though you should know that Sir Geoffrey Caldwell’s wife is currently in Bath for her health, so a visit would not be suitable at this time. ”
Something in his tone caught Charlotte’s attention.
“You sound relieved by that fact.”
A muscle twitched in William’s jaw.
“Let us say that Lady Caldwell can, like her husband, be... challenging. Her absence may make your initial social duties easier to navigate.”
“I see.” Charlotte sipped her wine, considering. “And what other duties did you wish to discuss?”
“The harvest festival will be held in October.” William began to pace slowly before the fire. “Traditionally, the Duchess oversees the celebrations. Nothing elaborate, you understand, but the tenants expect certain customs to be maintained.”
“Of course. Mrs Walden mentioned something about that.” Charlotte watched him move, the firelight catching the copper highlights in his dark hair. “I would be happy to oversee the arrangements.”
He paused in his pacing.
“Within reasonable limits.”
“Naturally.” Charlotte kept her tone carefully neutral. “I assume that you’ll want to approve any expenditures.”
“I...” He seemed to hear the slight edge in her voice. “That is, I trust that you’ll use good judgment. You seem to understand the importance of practical considerations.”
Even after such short acquaintance, she knew that, coming from William, this was practically effusive praise. Charlotte felt warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the madeira.
“Thank you. I hope that you’ll find that I can be an effective partner in all aspects of running Alverton.”
William turned to look at her fully, his grey eyes reflecting the lamplight. For a moment, as it had a few times before, something unexpectedly vulnerable crossed his features. Then the library door opened as a footman entered to tend the fire, and his usual reserve slipped back into place.
“It’s growing late,” William said after the footman had departed. “You must be tired from the journey.”
Charlotte recognised the dismissal in his tone, though part of her longed to stay in this peaceful room with its books and flickering firelight.
“Yes, I suppose that I am.” She rose, smoothing her skirts. “Thank you for the madeira, and for explaining my duties.”
“I’ll have a footman escort you up.”
William moved to pull the bell rope, his tall figure casting long shadows in the lamplight.
“There’s no need,” Charlotte said quickly. “I’m sure that I can find my way.”
She needed a few moments completely alone to sort through her impressions of this complex man who was now her husband. William hesitated, then nodded.
“As you wish. Good night, then.”
“Good night... William.”
His given name still felt strange on her tongue, intimate in a way that made colour rise to her cheeks. She thought that she saw something flicker in his eyes at the sound of it, but he merely bowed slightly as she left the library.
The grand staircase was lit only by moonlight now, streaming through the tall windows. Charlotte ascended slowly, her mind full of the day’s events. From nervous bride to Duchess in the space of a few hours - it seemed almost unreal.
In her chambers, she found Sarah waiting to help her prepare for bed. As the maid unlaced her gown, Charlotte caught sight of herself in the mirror. She looked different somehow - not just tired from the journey, but changed in some indefinable way.
Perhaps it was the weight of her new responsibilities already settling onto her shoulders.
Or perhaps it was the memory of William’s unexpected moments of warmth, like brief glimpses of sunshine through storm clouds.
He was not the completely cold man society painted him to be - she had seen that clearly tonight. The question was, could she find a way to bridge the careful distance he maintained between them?
Sarah helped her into her nightgown and turned down the bed, its pristine sheets welcoming after the long day.
“Will there be anything else, Your Grace?”
“No, thank you, Sarah. You may go.”
Alone at last, Charlotte moved to the window of her new bedchamber.
She was acutely aware, then, of just how completely alone she was in another way.
She had no family or friends here, only the rather distant man that she had just married, and for a moment, loneliness made her throat close as she swallowed the impulse to release a small sob.
She shook those thoughts away, and turned her eyes to what she could see outside the window.
Moonlight silvered the formal gardens below, and in the other wing of the house, she could see a light still burning in the library.
William was down there, perhaps thinking about their conversation, perhaps already absorbed in estate business again.
She turned away from the window and moved across the beautiful chamber towards the bed.
A momentary soft tapping sound at the connecting door to his adjacent chamber made her heart leap, but it was only the house settling.
Of course, he was down in the library and, anyway, he wouldn’t come to her - not yet, perhaps not for some time.
This was, after all, a marriage of convenience, in his eyes.
But as Charlotte slipped between the cool sheets, she remembered the vulnerability she’d glimpsed in his expression, the way that his voice had softened when speaking of his mother’s conservatory.
There was more to William Hawthorne than he allowed the world to see, and she was beginning to understand that uncovering those hidden depths might be the work of months or even years.