5. Chapter 5 #2
“Good. And when we’re done with the interviews, I will show you around the castle and answer all your questions. I’m certain you have many, and knowing my nephew, he has been tightlipped about everything.”
I let out a feeble laugh.
“I also have some ideas about how you can bring this place back to life,” she added, taking off her gloves and setting them on a nearby table. “It’s about time someone did.”
I already liked Aunt Eliza. Very much.
We interviewed ten applicants and by the end of the afternoon, I had hired a competent housekeeper, Mrs. Moore, a cook, Mrs. Pontipee, two house maids, a kitchen maid, and two footmen.
We would need dozens more, but this was enough for Mrs. Moore to get started, and she and Freemont could hire the rest of the staff as they saw fit.
All of them would move into the castle that afternoon and get right to work.
Eliza assured me that the servant’s quarters were livable, though they would need work, like every other room in the castle.
“You really must talk to Ames about Freemont,” Aunt Eliza said as we walked through the castle after the interviews had finished.
She’d brought me to the state rooms, or public spaces that had previously been used to entertain royalty and notable guests.
“The butler is the most important servant in an English household, and Freemont is no longer capable of doing the job properly. I know he has been loyal, and Ames feels obligated to keep him on, but it’s almost cruel to let him continue.
I’m certain Freemont would be happy retiring to a comfortable cottage on the property and doing odd jobs to pass the time. ”
“I will speak to him about it.”
“You want your staff to start off on a good foot, especially if you are going to restore Pickering Castle’s reputation. Now,” Aunt Eliza said as she pushed open a door, leading into an ancient chapel, “let us continue our tour here.”
The chapel was magnificent, with brown-and-white-checkered marble floors, several rows of wooden pews, three tall, stained-glass windows on one side, facing the courtyard, and an intricate altar with a large stained-glass window behind it.
The coffered ceiling rose high above and had a series of painted shields in each square.
“There has been a chapel on this site since the twelfth century,” Aunt Eliza said, “but this one was built around 1600. Each of those shields represents the noble families who have lived at Pickering Castle, including ours.” She ran her gloved finger over the back of a pew and inspected the dust. “It has not been used as a public place of worship for over a hundred years, but as children, I grew up attending weekly prayers here with my family.”
“And now?”
“I’m not certain what Ames uses it for. Perhaps he still comes here to pray.”
“It is a lovely space.” The room was so peaceful and quiet, I was certain it would be my favorite place to petition God and offer up my prayers and worship.
“Tell me how you and Ames met,” Aunt Eliza said as I walked around the chapel to inspect it.
“How he convinced you to marry him. I was surprised when I learned he’d gone to London for the season, and even more surprised when I heard he’d met and married an American so quickly.
I’m certain there is a fascinating tale to tell. ”
I appreciated her candor, though I was almost embarrassed to admit the truth.
“It is not a love match, if that is what you mean.”
“It rarely is . . . in the beginning. But I have a few ideas about that, too.”
My cheeks warmed. “I’m under no false hope that it will turn into one.”
She only smiled.
“He chose me for my money,” I said quickly. “And nothing else.”
“Were there no other heiresses?”
“Yes, of course. There were several.”
“Something had to have drawn him to you. It wasn’t just your money.”
I blinked, thinking about what he had said to me at Lady Sheffield’s ball a few weeks ago. “Well”—I walked to the altar and paused—“he told me that I didn’t look through him.”
She frowned just slightly.
“He said the others only saw his title and the prestige of his position in society but didn’t see him.”
“Which made you different from all the rest.”
“I would like to think so, but—”
“No.” She smiled. “You are.”
Aunt Eliza motioned for me to follow her out of the chapel and into the wide hallway.
“For years, I’ve wanted nothing more than to see Pickering Castle—and those who live in it—thrive again.
I know Ames desires that, as well. I’m certain that he saw within you a duchess who could make that happen.
Not just because of your wealth, but because of your spirit and outlook on life. ”
“I—” I hesitated, following her down the corridor, not knowing how much I should share with her. She was nearly a stranger, after all, and I didn’t know what kind of relationship she had with Ames. Yet how much could the truth hurt? “I wasn’t his first choice.”
“He still saw something within you that assured him his family legacy would be safe in your hands. Obviously, Ames’s first choice was a mistake, and God had a different plan.”
“I hope you’re right.” I wanted to change the subject. “Speaking of the castle’s inhabitants, I have a few questions.”
Sadness marred the dowager’s dark eyes as she opened another door. The room we entered was another drawing room, more elaborate than the Cedar drawing room. “Ames’s parents?”
I nodded.
“No one likes to talk about what happened to my brother and his wife, but it’s been my experience that the only way to heal the past is to bring it into the light. I don’t know as much as Ames does, but I know enough to help you understand. If anyone can understand a thing like this.”
“And what of the other dukes and duchesses?” A strange kind of fear wrapped around my heart as I asked my question. The rumors suddenly felt very personal and important. “I heard so many things about them. I’d love to know what is true and what is not.”
“Ah.” She pressed her lips together as we walked to a window facing the misty moors. “Unfortunately, I only know the rumors I’ve been told since childhood. They’re probably the same ones you heard. Or a variation of them.”
“I heard that the last three dukes have all been killed by their wives. Ames said something about his great-grandfather falling down the stairwell.”
For the first time since her arrival, Aunt Eliza seemed hesitant. “It’s true. Ames’s great-grandfather did die from a fall down the steps. And his grandfather, my father, died falling off his horse, though he was an excellent horseman.”
“And what of the Wailing Duchess, as she’s called?”
“Ames’s great-great-grandmother. She fell while walking along the cliffside, just beyond the castle walls.”
“Each died from a questionable fall?”
“Yes, and their spouses were blamed, though there was never enough proof to convict them. The only one who did not die from falling was Ames’s father. He was shot by Jane, his wife, in front of Ames.” She shook her head as she looked down at her hands.
“He was there?” I could hardly believe it. “He saw it happen?”
“He harbors guilt about that day—a guilt that has kept him locked away in the castle ever since.” She leaned forward.
“Which is why I have hope again, Lily. It might have been desperation that drove him to London to look for a wife, but he did it. And if he was willing to get married, I pray he is willing to do whatever it takes to restore Pickering Castle and the Welby name. He has a responsibility to his brothers, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“All of them have lived like recluses since their parents’ tragic deaths.
” She motioned to the drawing room. “They’ve let this home fall to ruins and have let no one in.
They have not learned all the social graces they need to forge their own paths in life, to find wives.
That’s another reason I’m so happy you’re here.
” She faced me, her brown eyes alight with expectation.
“If you could teach them what they need to know, then they might have a chance at finding good wives. Women who will help the Welby name now and in the future.”
“What could I possibly teach them?”
“How to dance and court and flirt.” Her gaze warmed with an idea.
“If you could invite some of your friends to attend a summer house party—some of your American friends—my nephews might learn what they need to know. American women are so much better at flirting and conversation and drawing a man out.”
“A house party?” It was my turn to get excited—but reality sobered me. “Ames made it clear that he doesn’t want guests at Pickering Castle.”
“All the more reason to invite them. This is your home now, too. He cannot expect you to live like a recluse with him.” She let out a sigh.
“When the weather is nicer, I want to take you to the tenant farmers’ homes, and the village of Ravenscar.
When the castle and its duke are suffering, so too is the community surrounding them.
This place used to be so colorful and full of life.
We need it to become that way again, and it starts with the Welby family. ”
“And you think a simple house party, with a few American girls, will bring this place back to life?”
“It will be a start. A good start. And”—she smiled—“if you hold the house party in July, that will give you a month to make improvements on the necessary rooms of the castle before your guests arrive. Once this place is comfortable again, Ames can stop using that as an excuse to keep people away.”
“So soon?”
“The sooner, the better. Almost all of society leaves London during the summer. There will be nothing to keep them in the city in July. I think a house party is just the thing. And I will personally help you plan and execute it.”
The idea was starting to grow on me—but I had a book to complete by the first of August, and I was only half finished. Could I manage to remodel the castle and then host a house party while completing my story?
“First,” I said, “we must convince Ames.”
Her smile was quick. “I have a feeling you could convince him to do practically anything. With the right approach.”
My cheeks warmed at her innuendo. I wasn’t so sure she was right.
“Now,” she said, “let’s take notes about what needs to be fixed and updated before your house party. You are now the duchess of Pickering Castle, with your own money to use. You can make this home whatever you wish and hire as many people as necessary to make the changes as quickly as possible.”
I knew what I wanted most of all.
For my husband to be pleased that he’d chosen me to be his wife. If I could restore a good reputation to Pickering Castle and help launch his brothers into society with suitable brides, perhaps he would acknowledge that I was the right choice.
I was ready to do whatever was necessary to accomplish that goal.