Chapter 8
Eight
It was funny to think that Thalia had initially been nervous about introducing Olivia to the duke.
Worried that Olivia might fear him, that she would withdraw inside herself and beg for Thalia not to do as she had done.
Terrified that the duke would spurn the little girl and might even change his mind because nothing about him suggested he cared for children or ever would.
Now, Olivia’s presence was a blessing and was the only reason that Thalia was able to picture this marriage as being anything other than a most tragic arrangement in which no sense of happiness or comfort would be found.
That’s not to say that I expect anything more from this than what it is. Just that with Olivia here, it will at least be bearable.
“What’s that?” Olivia asked, pointing out of the window of the carriage toward… honestly, Thalia had no idea. “And that?” She pointed at something else.
“Olivia…” Thalia tried to pull the little girl onto her lap.
“And that!” She pointed directly at Ronan’s face, his scar, and Thalia gasped.
“Olivia!”
“What?” Olivia asked, wide-eyed and curious. “I want to know. What is it? Why don’t you have one?”
It had been this way since they left the church, their destination Westvale Estate a good two hours from where they married.
There was to be no post-ceremony breakfast as was tradition, no time wasted speaking with those who had come to see them wed, pretending that this marriage was one to be celebrated.
As soon as the duke returned from changing his pants, he directed Thalia to the carriage because it was time for them to return home.
She dreaded the trip like nothing else.
Indeed, as she climbed into the carriage after the duke, it felt as if she was willingly walking into a cave where a bear was known to be waiting. The curtains were drawn, he sat in the darkness of the corner, a hulking mass of shadows and scowls that was the opposite of inviting.
What would they talk about? What would he say to her? And if she could not survive a two-hour carriage ride, how was she to survive a lifetime of marriage?
As it turned out, she had little to fear because Olivia did not worry about such things as she might, and as soon as the carriage doors closed and the journey began she was a trove of energy and excitement and questions.
“Will I have my own room?” she asked excitedly.
“Is it true you live out of the city?” she questioned, eyes wide and disbelieving. “Without another house for miles!”
“Why do you wear so much black? Do you not like color?”
The duke responded with a series of grunts and growls, never giving a proper answer, fidgeting awkwardly the entire time as his scowl turned from Thalia to the little girl and back to the window. It almost looked as if he was considering throwing himself from it and walking the rest of the way.
But Olivia did not seem to care. She fired question after question at him, no end to them, climbing over the carriage seats the whole time, unwilling and unable to sit still.
As she did, Thalia kept an eye on her husband, waiting for him to snap. But he did no such thing. He did not smile. He did not appear to find it amusing. But that he accepted it all without chastisement was a good sign or so she decided to read it.
“Why are we slowing down?” Olivia cried suddenly as she scampered toward the window.
Thalia felt her stomach turn. Here we are then… no going back now.
She looked across the carriage and caught the duke’s eyes. There was a hint of a smile behind them, perhaps relief found because the journey was over. At least this part of it was.
“Olivia…” Thalia shuffled across the carriage and pulled her daughter into her lap as she leaned forward to look out the window. “This is our new home. What do you think?”
For the first time in two hours, Olivia fell silent. And Thalia could not blame her.
Westvale Estate was little known to Thalia, save for its location on the western shores of England, buffeted on one side by the ocean, the other by flat farmland and sweeping meadows that stretched endlessly in all directions.
It was a cloudy day, the sun refusing to break through the gloom, darkness falling earlier than it should have been as if it too knew the mood of this moment and wanted to act accordingly.
The manor was an old castle of gray and black stone.
It stood tall and imposing, large towers and steep walls, dark windows that swallowed the light.
It seemed to exist in shadow, growing from the earth like a hollowed-out tree of burnt wood, screaming at all who came near to turn back and run for their lives. No happiness would be found here.
Thalia’s mouth hung open as she took in her new home. Olivia’s eyes were wide, and she could feel the girl trembling in her arms.
Across from them, the duke watched the two, the slightest smile on his lips as if he was expecting this reaction. As if he enjoyed it.
“Westvale Estate,” he growled, the first words said in two hours. “Your new home.”
“Home…” Olivia swallowed the word, her previous eagerness gone.
The carriage approached the castle in silence. And when it came to a steady halt by the entrance, the silence grew heavy. Olivia was perfectly still, withdrawing into Thalia so she held the girl tight as if in protection.
Once they climbed from the carriage too, Olivia clung to Thalia’s hand and refused to let go. She looked up, craning back her neck to take in the tallness of the towers, her mouth opening wide and her eyes wider still.
“It’s not so bad,” Thalia said bravely. “I am sure when the sun is out, it is even quite pretty.” She looked at her husband who watched them both without comment. “Olivia, what do you think?”
Again, the girl said nothing.
“This way.” The duke led them toward the entrance, a door that stood twelve feet high and was made of dark wood. It swung open as they approached, creaking and groaning, and beyond was nothing but darkness.
“Mo—Mommy…” Olivia croaked. “I don’t… I… do we have to?”
Thalia held her hand tightly, watching the duke walk ahead and vanishing inside the home. “There is nothing to be afraid of, Olivia. This is our new home. Trust me, this is… this is a good thing.”
I wish that I could believe that.
For close to four years, Thalia and Olivia had existed in a state of near poverty.
They had lived on a small farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, their lives little better than common farmers.
Money was hard to come by. Food, just as much.
But they had been happy, free to do as they pleased, and in the face of this new world which awaited them, Thalia could not help but wonder if leaving that behind was as good an idea as she had thought at the time.
It would be, she told herself. Once they got used to… whatever this was. All they had to do was be brave.
Her body was shaking but she stilled it the best she could as she led her daughter up the steps and inside the castle.
Inside was exactly what she expected. A foyer the size of her aunt’s townhouse greeted them: high ceilings, a marble floor, and a winding staircase that led from the center of the foyer up and up and up.
The decor was sparse and old, the walls shook from the wind which battered the outside, and despite the light from the ancient chandelier hanging high above, shadows stretched and grew from every corner.
The duke stood by the base of the staircase, waiting for them. Behind him were ten butlers and maids, all dressed in black, all old and surprisingly kindly. They were even smiling.
“And who is this?” From the staff, an elderly man waddled forward. He was as thin as a rake with a bent back and a nose that was as long as a beak. But his smile was genuine, and his blue eyes glimmered with that same smile. “Which of you two is Her Grace?” he asked.
“This is Albert,” the duke explained, staying where he was. “The Head of Staff.”
Albert crouched down before Olivia, his smile growing. “And you must be Her Grace?”
Olivia giggled. “No… silly. I am…” She looked to Thalia for permission. Thalia nodded at her to speak. “My name is Olivia.”
“Ah, of course!” Albert slapped his head. “You just look so much like your mother, I confused you both.”
“No we don’t,” Olivia said, laughing again. “She is old.”
“Not so old as some,” he said with a wink.
Thalia found herself smiling at the interaction. Another small moment, but it told her again that the duke was not nearly as awful as he wanted people to think. How could he be, if his staff were this friendly?
Furthermore, she realized too that Albert assumed Olivia to be her natural daughter, meaning he had not told his staff the truth. Thalia found the duke’s eyes and smiled her thanks, to which he nodded once in understanding.
“If there is anything you need, Albert is the one to see about it,” the duke explained. He spoke softly but his voice echoed across the foyer as if he had shouted. “Albert, I assume the arrangements have been made?”
“They have, Your Grace.” He groaned as he stood up again and turned. “As requested, of course.”
“Good,” the duke said. “That will be all for now.”
“As you say.” Albert bowed once and gestured to the staff to get back to their business. They each bowed for Thalia, smiling as they did. And then, they hurried away, once again leaving the three alone.
Silence fell upon them once more.
Outside, the winds howled, and the walls shook. Olivia was still holding Thalia’s hand tight, and she stepped in close, her visage terrified as she looked up and around the imposing foyer.
“This way.” The duke turned suddenly and started up the steps.
Thalia looked down at Olivia whose eyes were wide and nervous still. She smiled, trying to instill a sense of bravery and excitement in her.
“Come on then…”
Together, the two followed the duke up the steps.