Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
“ A re you feeling all right, Your Grace?”
Eleanor blinked at Roger Trew, her gardener, and nodded quickly.
"Yes! Yes, I — I am quite fine. Perfect even. Why… why do you ask?"
The old man smiled at her softly and pointed at her hands.
“You just planted a daffodil among your lavender sprouts.”
Eleanor looked down, noticing her mistake almost immediately.
“Oh. Oh, no. I am so sorry.” She huffed, gently retrieving the plant that had been placed in the wrong spot.
"Do not fret, Your Grace. Thankfully we noticed in time, but I'm sure a single, small mishap wouldn't have caused too much trouble." Roger told her kindly, collecting the sprout from her and planting it in the right place.
Eleanor sat back momentarily to watch him work, her mind wandering to the very problem that had consumed her every thought.
Her husband.
With a house as big as they had, she expected that it would be much easier to go about her days, living her life as she had been without a care towards him.
Oh, how sorely mistaken she had been.
All of a sudden, it seemed there were an insufficient amount of rooms and hallways in the manor. Every time she rounded a corner, there he was, coming from the other side. When she wished to relax in a drawing room, that would be the very same one she would find him seated in, studying the books on a shelf.
He was always everywhere, all the time and it was driving her insane because she wasn’t keen on being anywhere near him.
If he noticed, Frederick had chosen not to say anything about it, almost as though he wished to see how long she could keep up this game of chicken.
“Does this have anything to do with the Duke’s sudden return?” Roger asked suddenly with a mischievous look in his eyes.
“What? No. No, that’s — no.” she sputtered, turning away to pretend to busy herself with some plants.
Only to realize moments later that they were weeds.
"Are you sure? Because I, likely more than anyone else, am aware of your ever-growing love for this garden. But, Your Grace, it seems that lately, you are always here. Even more than I am. And I'm the gardener. If I did not know any better, I would have assumed you were trying to usurp my duties." He teased.
Eleanor frowned and sighed.
“I wish it were that simple. I am just… unsure of what to do, now that he is here. I am not sure what he wants from me either — if anything at all.”
Her husband confused her greatly.
For a long time, she hated him. Hated him for abandoning her, hated him for giving into her mother’s games and proposing to her when he did not want a wife.
But now that he was within the same space as she was, all the things she had said she would say to him if she ever saw him again seemed to fade out of existence. Now, her thoughts strayed to him constantly, worrying for his well-being.
Which frustrated her greatly because how dare he claim a space in her head, when she had other duties that required his attention?
"I know that you are a brilliant young woman, Your Grace. And I believe that as you have overcome other problems in the past, you will make your way through this and emerge from the other side unscathed. From what I have learned in this life, marriage requires the equal efforts of both husband and wife. I am sure that you and His Grace shall find a means of navigating your relationship Seamlessly." The gardener assured.
Eleanor smiled at him, feeling her heart settle momentarily.
“See, now why would I want to be anywhere else on this property when I know I will be favored with your wonderful company here?” she questioned coyly.
“Flattery is not needed to get into my good graces, Your Grace. But by all means, do keep going.” Roger chuckled.
She laughed along with him.
“I really do not know what I am to do without you. What did the physician say during your visit last week?”
His smile dimmed slightly.
“I was told that my problems had stemmed from my age. I am no longer a spring chicken and as a result, I would need to let my body have more time to recover.” Roger sighed with a shake of his head as though he had been discussing a great inconvenience, as opposed to his health.
He had been feeling rather unwell recently and it took a lot of pleading from Eleanor before he was convinced to see a physician.
“Oh dear. Please, take as much time off as you would like then.” Eleanor urged immediately.
“But we have so much to do as the season settles upon us. What if you decide to host a party at the manor? The gardenias will be blooming soon.” He frowned pitifully.
His reaction might have been comical to most, but Eleanor understood the slight pain and reluctance in his eyes. She knew that he loved this garden just as much as she, and being away for too long was as good as a punishment.
“None of those things matter more to me than your health, Roger. Please, rest. And if you need anything else — if there is anything more I can do for you, do not hesitate to let me know.” She told him gently.
He beamed at her gratefully. “You are too kind. Thank you, Your Grace. I would also suggest that you begin to search for my replacement, in the meantime. I wish I could offer a recommendation, but… I’m afraid no one does as good a job as I do. Aside from yourself, of course, duchess.”
“Of course,” Eleanor grinned. “I will let Mr. Bradley know as soon as?—”
“Your Grace!” a shrill cry pierced the calm air and Eleanor turned to see a maid running towards her.
“What—”
“He’s gone! We’ve checked every nook and cranny — we've been searching for hours but he has simply vanished. What do we do —”
“Celia, slow down. Who is missing?” Eleanor questioned, confused.
“The Duke, Your Grace!”
Eleanor felt her heart sink.
“He was in his study — going through the house ledger, as he has told us he would do earlier this morning. But then when I went to bring him some refreshments, he was gone. I thought he had stepped out for a little bit, however an hour passed and he did not return to the study. I alerted the other servants and together we have searched the whole estate and we’ve seen no sign of him! With his condition, we know he needs a lot of rest and if he wandered off the property or worse — an intruder were to gain access to the estate, he wouldn't know that there posed a danger to him?—”
“Keep looking. Search the manor from top to bottom. I’ll search the gardens.” She ordered, rising to her feet and grabbing her skirts, not caring about the dirt on her hands.
“But, Your Grace —”
“Just go!” Eleanor snapped urgently, already moving to search the east side of the gardens.
The grounds were quite vast and it was likely he was wandered off.
The issue was that for someone without any memories, he could easily get lost and something bad could happen. Especially if he ended up by the —
She came to a stop suddenly.
“The lake,” she muttered to herself, turning around and heading in the opposite direction.
It only took her a handful of minutes before she arrived at the lake, relieved when she found him swimming in the water, oblivious to the tears that were being shed in his estate over his sudden disappearance.
For a moment, the severity of the situation faded as she watched him wade through the water, his toned arms tensing with each powerful stoke. It was when he noticed her and stopped swimming, choosing to float with a grin that she recalled she had been on a mission.
“Your Grace, please return to the estate. You should have informed a member of the staff before you left the property. It is dangerous for you to move about without alerting us beforehand.” she said, doing her best to be as calm as possible.
He did not respond, simply moving about in the water with a raised eyebrow, as though he was daring her to come in after him.
“Your Grace,” she called after him, feeling her patience run thin.
“Would you like to join me? I trust that you will enjoy a quick swim on such a hot day,” he offered instead, his gaze raking over her form.
Something about the look in his eyes filled her with embarrassment and she folded her arms over her chest with red cheeks.
“Absolutely not.”
He rolled his eyes and swam to the shore, speaking as he drew closer.
“I was not aware that I needed the permission of anyone to leave my house or explore my property.” He stated.
His tone was nothing short of condescending, and her retort was easily rolling off her tongue.
“You do not, but in your condition — what on earth are you doing?” she shrieked as he suddenly rose out of the water and she realized he had been in there without a shirt.
Eleanor turned away quickly, cringing when she heard the sound of his footfalls approaching her.
“My body should not be a strange sight to you, wife. So why are you acting like a young maiden?” Frederick queried, confidently standing before her.
The teasing lilt in his voice set fire to the humiliation that had begun to burn in her chest at his insult and she snapped,
"Regardless of how familiar we are with one another, it is greatly inappropriate to be in such a state of undress publicly. You are a Duke. I understand that you might not remember much about your roles, but you would do well to learn how to behave within the lines of proprietary."
He stared at her for a moment and then he said,
“I cannot help but wonder how I came to marry you. You and I… we seem to be vastly different people. You are quite pleasing to look at, I will give you that. Very nice to gaze upon, actually. And you do seem to be a competent duchess. But you don’t appear to think much of me, seeing as you have no problem scolding me — your husband and a Duke, so publicly. Is this why I did not wish to stay home? Because you were such an insufferable scold?”
Eleanor laughed humorlessly.
"How ironic, you choose to blame me rather than to reflect inwardly. I do not know why you did not want to stay home. But I do know that right now, your behavior is very wrong and frankly, quite like a brute."
It was infuriating, how easily he affected her. Infuriating and unfair. It was also humiliating that it stemmed from the fact that she had never been kissed or touched before — until him.
And he believed they had done all that and more because they were married.
Her eyes darted down to his naked torso and she swallowed, rendered dizzy by the sudden rush of heat to her cheeks. She averted her gaze.
Frederick smiled mischievously and he leaned forward, whispering lowly into her ear.
“And yet, you seem to be greatly affected by a brute.”
Her breath hitched in her throat and all she could do was stare at him as he put his shirt on with a smirk.
Her mouth ran dry as he leaned towards her again, standing so close she could see every drop of water that dripped out of his hair. There was an ache to brush back the curl the messy curls they hung over his forehead, to taste the droplets on his lips.
Touch me, she nearly asked. But then, he walked away without another word.
When he was out of sight, Eleanor crumbled to her knees with a gasp, her ears ringing with her thundering heartbeat.
“Oh my,” she sighed tiredly. “That man is determined to be the end of me.”
Frederick had learned rather quickly that he and his wife had a rather odd relationship.
The separate bedrooms were definitely an indicator that things were not as he believed them to be, but her actions confused him.
The slightest move to tease her left her flustered and nearly keening over, as though she had never been approached by a man.
The whole thing was so puzzling, that he had summoned Christopher and asked,
“Was I… rather chaste and perhaps… proper when I dealt with women? Before I married, of course.”
His valet had stared at him, looking as though he had the answers Frederick sought, but would rather not say, not at the expense of his life.
“Out with it, man.” He had snapped impatiently.
“N-No, Your Grace. You were… always confident. With your conquests. Erm…”
“You must have some stories, then. Do tell.” Frederick prompted.
Poor Christopher looked as though death had knocked at his door.
“I simply couldn't. Your… escapades were far too… scandalous to relay back to you.” The valet stuttered.
“I will not be angry at what you choose to tell me. After all, I asked.”
Christopher shook his head. “Even still, Your Grace. I wouldn't dare.”
He took pity on the man and sent him off, not quite satisfied with what he had heard.
So basically, he might have been quite adventurous with his conquests.
This begged the question — why was it that his wife seemed to not have experienced that side of him before?
Mealtimes were the only opportunities Frederick had to see Eleanor without her rushing off in the other direction and he welcomed the chance to study her closely. Particularly because he asked that the table be arranged so they could sit closer together.
The housekeeper had blanched and turned to the duchess who faced her husband reluctantly after he brought it up.
“But it’s always been this way.”
"Has it?" he questioned plainly, not really concerned to hear anything other than an acceptance of his order. "Well, there's no time like the present to change it. I am not going to let there be what looks like an ocean of distance stay between my wife and me while we eat. It's bad enough she seems to like running from me."
With rosy cheeks, Eleanor had conceded to his decision.
And while she was still about two feet away — still too far, in his opinion — she was now close enough that he could try to count the pretty dusting of freckles over the bridge of her nose.
It was so easy, to get lost in the lines of her face, to imagine how soft her skin would feel beneath his fingers. It was frustrating, that she would only let him stay so close to her when they had their meals and would flee otherwise.
But more than that, it was irritating that he knew nothing about her, about them and their relationship, because his mind now mostly consisted of blank pages.
Especially when it seemed he had also forgotten simple things his body should know.
After dinner, the chef had made a delicious-looking blueberry pie for dessert and the duchess' face had lit up as it was brought into the dining room.
So that is her favorite dessert, Frederick mused to himself, tucking the information away for later as he was served a slice.
It did look appetizing, and while he felt as though he wasn’t particularly fond of sweets, he picked up a fork and a knife to try the pie anyway.
"Not those," Eleanor said suddenly.
He stared up at her, confused.
“I beg your pardon?”
Her eyes met Frederick’s for a moment before they dropped to his hands as they held his cutlery, poised to cut into his slice of pie.
“Those aren’t for desserts,” she informed him, holding up the small fork and spoon in her own hands. “These are.”
He dropped his gaze to the cutlery clutched between his fingers and almost immediately, he sensed the wrongness in how they felt to his touch.
With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the cutlery onto the table.
“It is so irritating that I have to be so stiff, even at dinner.” He rolled his eyes, picking up his glass of wine.
After downing its contents, he was immediately struck by a desire for something stronger.
“You have always been stiff, regardless of the time and place. That is just who you are.”
“At least I am nowhere near as dedicated to such airs as you are. Tell me, wife, how do you manage to handle all your other duties when your carry so much regal graces on your shoulders?”
It was obvious his words had bothered her because she lifted her gaze to the ceiling and closed her eyes for a moment before facing him once more.
“Still, my mannerisms allow some indulgencies, as opposed to your usual strict character that leaves much to be desired. Our marriage is not the standard relationship you believe it to be. We were wed out of a scandal that you believe I orchestrated and because you did not wish for my existence as your wife to interrupt your life, you left. That is all about our marriage, all there is.”
“I find that hard to believe that I would easily walk away from a woman with your looks. If what I have come to learn about myself holds any weight, then it is highly unlikely that I would’ve brought such a stiff attitude along during the nights we spent together.”
Eleanor sighed deeply and long-suffering.
"I should have done this much, much sooner," she muttered, pushing her plate away slightly as she turned towards him and said, louder. "I just told you the truth. You seem to have some… notions, about the nature of our marriage. And at first, I thought it best to leave things as they were, because I believed your memories would return before long. But perhaps the truth might be better, for us both."
She paused, as though she were waiting for his consent to proceed. Frederick nodded, urging her on and she inhaled deeply.
“I wasn’t having a favorable season, and in a bid to secure a husband for me, my mother trapped us in a scandal. That was the only reason why you married me. On our wedding day, barely two hours after we were wed, you brought me here and abandoned me. I haven’t seen you since then. Not until your return days ago.”
Eleanor stopped them, her pretty green eyes flickering over his face in search of an indication of what he thought or felt. Whatever she found was not rewarding, because the corner of her lips dipped downward and he frowned at the sight.
“Say something,” she urged quietly, looking nervous.
At her prompt, he blurted out.
“I had some idea ours was an unconventional marriage.”