Chapter Six #2
“It’s difficult to say, Your Grace. Our people are proud – they don’t like to complain.” Mrs Walden’s tone held years of experience with tenant matters. “But I’ve heard whispers of at least six families with sick children.”
Charlotte paused, watching a group of labourers in a distant field. Even at this distance, she could see that their movements lacked the usual vigour she had observed on her previous outings.
“And the adults?”
“Some are beginning to show symptoms. Nothing severe yet, but...”
“But influenza spreads quickly, especially among those already weakened by poor conditions.”
Charlotte completed the thought, her mind already leaping ahead to implications that she knew William could not ignore.
Harvest time approached – if too many workers fell ill, the estate’s carefully planned recovery might be threatened.
Yet even as she considered these practical concerns – the ones most likely to sway William’s opinion – Charlotte could not forget the sight of Mary Fletcher’s feverish infant, or the dairymaid’s trembling hands.
These were not merely workers whose health affected the estate’s productivity – they were people under her care, looking to their Duke and Duchess for protection and support.
The weight of that responsibility pressed against her chest, making her next words come out softly.
“His Grace should be informed.”
Mrs Walden’s careful response held volumes of understanding.
“Yes, Your Grace. Though perhaps...”
“Perhaps we should have all the facts clearly arranged before approaching him,” Charlotte finished, managing a small smile.
Their brief marriage had already taught her much about William’s preference for precise information over emotional appeals.
They completed their circuit as the sun climbed towards noon.
Charlotte’s practical walking boots were dusty, her dress hem slightly muddied, but her mind was clear.
She had obligations beyond maintaining social niceties, whatever William’s views on the proper role of a Duchess might be.
More importantly, she had begun to understand that her position offered opportunities to help that went beyond mere charity.
“Mrs Walden,” Charlotte said as they approached the house, her thoughts crystallising into purpose, “please have Sarah bring tea to my sitting room. And then... I believe we have much to discuss about our duties of care.”
The housekeeper’s usually stern features softened with approval.
“Indeed we do, Your Grace. Indeed we do.”
In her sitting room, Charlotte removed her bonnet and gloves with careful movements that belied her inner turmoil.
The estate’s prosperity rested on complex foundations – not just financial stability, but the health and welfare of every soul who called Alverton home.
William’s careful management had restored the estate’s material fortune, but perhaps he had been so focused on financial recovery that he’d overlooked other essential elements.
The thought of William brought a familiar sensation to her stomach.
Even in his stubbornness, she could not deny his dedication to Alverton’s welfare.
If only she could make him see that true prosperity encompassed more than merely balanced ledgers!
His grey eyes held such intelligence when he spoke of estate matters – surely he could be made to understand this broader view of their responsibilities?
A quiet tap heralded Sarah with the tea tray, followed by Mrs Walden.
As the maid arranged the china with practiced efficiency, Charlotte gathered her thoughts, remembering her mother’s lessons about the proper management of household matters.
Lady Westbridge had always emphasised the importance of approaching difficult subjects with both heart and head engaged.
“Tell me,” she said once they were alone, warming her hands on her teacup, “in your experience, how has His Grace typically responded to illness among the tenants?”
Mrs Walden considered while pouring her own tea, her movements precise and thoughtful.
“His Grace ensures that Physician Morton is available when needed, and that basic care is provided. But...”
She hesitated, and Charlotte was conscious of the careful way that she chose her next words.
“But?”
“The late Duke’s extravagance left deep scars, Your Grace. His Grace is... cautious about any expenditure that might be seen as unnecessary.” The Housekeeper’s tone held years of observation and carefully guarded opinions. “Even when his heart might wish to do more.”
That last quiet addition caught Charlotte’s attention.
“You believe that he struggles with such decisions?”
“I have served at Alverton since before His Grace’s birth,” Mrs Walden said slowly. “I remember when he was a boy, before his father’s... difficulties became apparent. He had such a generous nature then. The current strictness – it comes from duty, not inclination.”
Charlotte stirred her tea thoughtfully, this new insight adding layers to her understanding of her husband.
“And what constitutes ‘necessary’ expenditure, in His Grace’s view?”
“Anything that directly affects the estate’s productivity.” Mrs Walden’s tone held no judgment, only years of careful observation. “His Grace has worked tirelessly to restore Alverton’s fortunes. Perhaps sometimes he forgets that true prosperity requires more than just fiscal prudence.”
“Yet surely preventing an influenza outbreak from spreading would protect productivity?”
“Yes.”
Charlotte set her cup down with careful precision, her mind full of possibilities.
“We must consider not just the immediate cost of care, but the potential loss if illness keeps workers from the harvest.”
“A logical argument, Your Grace.” Mrs Walden’s approval was evident. “His Grace responds well to such practical considerations.”
Charlotte rose to pace the room, her mind yet again racing with plans even as her heart ached with the memory of Mary Fletcher’s feverish infant. The soft swish of her skirts against the carpet provided a rhythm for her thoughts as she moved from window to writing desk and back again.
“We need more information before approaching His Grace,” she said finally, turning back to Mrs Walden. “Can you discover exactly how many families are affected? And Physician Morton should be consulted about likely progression and necessary precautions.”
“And the expense of such measures?” Mrs Walden asked carefully.
“I will need precise figures.” Charlotte’s chin lifted with determination, though her hands clasped tightly together betrayed her inner tension. “His Grace cannot dismiss this as mere sentiment if we present him with clear evidence of both need and cost.”
“Very good, Your Grace.” Mrs Walden rose, and Charlotte did not miss the approval in her eyes. “Shall I begin making enquiries?”
“Please do.” Charlotte moved to her writing desk, drawing out fresh paper. “I shall make notes of our observations today while they’re fresh in my mind. We must be thorough in our preparation.”
As Mrs Walden departed, Charlotte went to the small escritoire near the room’s large window, to take advantage of the light, and began writing with steady purpose, trying to capture every detail that might prove relevant to their case.
She would approach William with carefully reasoned arguments, not emotional appeals.
Yet even as she recorded practical details about numbers of sick children and affected households, her mind returned to Mary Fletcher’s infant, to the dairymaid’s trembling hands, to all the signs of suffering she could not ignore.
A sudden movement in the courtyard below caught Charlotte’s attention, drawing her to turn to the window.
William was returning from his morning ride, his tall figure straight and commanding in the saddle.
Despite her preoccupation with estate matters, her heart quickened at the sight of him.
Even after their recent discord, she could not deny the effect that his presence had on her.
His greatcoat was fitted to his broad shoulders perfectly, and she could not help but notice the way that the morning sun caught the auburn highlights in his dark hair, and the strong lines of his handsome profile.
More telling was the way that the stable boys rushed to attend him – not from fear, she had learned, but from genuine respect.
Whatever his faults, William inspired loyalty in those who served him.
As he dismounted with practiced grace, he paused to speak with his head groom.
Charlotte couldn’t hear their words, but she recognised the careful attention he gave to the man’s report.
This was the side of William that fascinated her most – the devoted master of Alverton who truly cared for his responsibilities, even if his methods sometimes differed from her own expectations.
“Your Grace?”
Charlotte turned to find Sarah at the door, another stack of household records in her arms.
“Yes?”
“Mrs Walden asked me to bring these. They’re the medical expense ledgers from the past three years.”
“Thank you, Sarah.”
Charlotte returned to her escritoire, though not without a final glance at the courtyard below. William had disappeared into the house, likely going to his study, where he spent most mornings.
The ledgers provided invaluable information about previous illness outbreaks and their costs, but Charlotte found her thoughts straying repeatedly to the coming confrontation with her husband.
They might clash again over this issue, but she would not shy away from the challenge.
Too much depended on them finding a way to work together – not just the estate’s prosperity, but the welfare of every soul who called Alverton home.
And, she quietly admitted to herself, her own future happiness.
She did not wish to live in perpetual discord…
Her quill moved steadily across the paper as she compiled her notes, organising arguments and evidence with the same care that her father had taught her to apply to estate management.
The Earl of Westbridge had always emphasised the importance of thorough preparation when presenting difficult cases.
‘Start with the facts’, he would say, ‘then proceed to implications, and only then to suggest solutions. Never let emotion override reason, but never forget that true reason takes all factors into account – including human ones’.
A knock at her door interrupted her work.
“Come in,” she called, expecting Mrs Walden with more information about the sick tenants.
Instead, William’s sister Margaret entered, her dark hair slightly dishevelled from the morning breeze. Margaret had only returned to Alverton from London yesterday, and Charlotte hadn’t expected her to be out and about much today – but it seemed that she had been wrong in that idea.
“Charlotte! I’ve just returned from visiting the Murdocks, and I believe there’s something you should know...”
Charlotte set down her quill, her heart racing. The Murdocks were tenant farmers on the estate’s northern boundary. If the illness had spread to there as well...
“Tell me everything,” she said, gesturing Margaret to a chair.
Another piece of the puzzle, another detail to add to her growing case. She would need all of them if she hoped to convince William that action was necessary.
As Margaret began speaking, Charlotte reached for fresh paper. They would solve this crisis, one careful step at a time. And perhaps, in working together to protect their people, she and William might find a way to bridge the distance between them as well.
Assuming, of course, that she could convince William to listen… She only hoped that they had enough time for her to achieve that, before the situation grew worse.