6. Chapter 6
T he sun set low on the western horizon, sending shadows over the craggy rocks jutting out of the moors behind Pickering Castle.
The rain had stopped and the clouds had been ushered away by the gentle breeze, allowing the damp earth to glisten under the sun.
Lush, green foliage covered the landscape, with small clumps of pink flowers in the dips and hollows.
I stood just behind Pickering Castle, longing to explore, mesmerized by the stunning view before me.
The castle stood on the highest point of the surrounding land, with one side built into the cliffs facing the sea.
Though there were trees dotting the moors, they were few and far between.
The barrenness reminded me a bit of the deserts of home.
It was both familiar and foreign, causing a strange pull inside me.
A gong sounded within the castle, indicating it was time to dress for supper. Mrs. Moore had told me she intended to start running the household as it should be run immediately. I appreciated her enthusiasm as I turned to enter the castle through the Great Hall.
I hadn’t seen Ames since he’d brought the breakfast tray but had crossed paths with both Brant and Davis that day.
They had told me he was helping a tenant farmer fix his roof and they didn’t know when or if he’d return home before supper.
It was a job that most dukes would not undertake in any circumstances, making me wonder about Ames’s motivation.
As I crossed the Great Room, Everett entered, a frown on his face as he caught sight of me. His rumpled clothing and blinking confusion suggested he’d been taking a nap.
“What was that noise?” he asked.
“Do you mean the dressing gong?”
He continued to frown. “Who rung it?”
“I imagine it was Mrs. Moore.”
“The new housekeeper?”
“Yes.” I smiled. “Have you met her?”
“Not yet.” He ran his hand over the back of his head as he yawned. “Why did she ring the gong? I was enjoying a nice nap in the library.”
“It’s time to dress for supper.” I frowned again. Surely he knew what the gong meant. Their parents had died fifteen years ago, but before that, they would have used one.
“Dress—” He paused, looking truly perplexed and fully awake. “For supper?”
I stared at him. “You don’t dress for supper?”
“Why would we?”
“Because—” It was my turn to stumble over my words. “Your brother is the Duke of Severton. You’re part of the aristocracy.”
“So?”
“It’s—well, it’s something we do. That’s all.”
“Why?”
“Because—because it just is. All well-mannered people dress for supper.”
His face softened and he grinned. “Well, then, there you have it. We’re not well-mannered.” And with a chuckle, Everett left the Great Hall, presumably to return to his nap.
I stared after him, my mouth slightly ajar. Was he serious? Even in California, before we’d moved to New York, we always dressed for supper. Everyone I knew dressed for supper. It was a sign of respectability and class, acting as the pinnacle of the social structure in a household.
He must have been teasing me.
I had no brothers, but I’d been around enough men to know that many of them liked to shock women with their joking. Everett was apparently no different.
My heart beat a nervous rhythm as I walked up the stairs and toward my room, hoping and wondering if I would run into Ames.
I had watched for him throughout the day as Aunt Eliza had taken me on a tour of the castle and we’d made a list of all the repairs that were needed.
She’d left just after luncheon, which had been an informal affair, since the new cook, Mrs. Pontipee, had not yet returned from gathering her belongings from the inn where she’d been staying.
Davis had made a shepherd’s pie, which was bland but hearty.
Mrs. Pontipee had moved in after luncheon and had promised a delicious, if simple supper. I wanted to impress Ames, if only to convince him that he’d done the right thing by entrusting me to hire a staff.
I didn’t see him as I opened my bedchamber door and entered my room.
Molly was there, my evening gown already laid out and my toilette items on the dressing table. She smiled as I entered.
“It’s so nice to see a familiar face,” I said to her, feeling my body relax for the first time that day.
“Same to you.” She clasped her hands, a bit of tension gathering between her eyes. “It’s been . . . interesting to meet the new staff.”
“Oh?” I frowned. “I thought they were all very pleasant.”
She smiled to herself as I walked across the room and turned my back to her so she could start to unbutton my day dress, while I unbuttoned the wrists.
“They are pleasant,” she assured me. “Just—not as welcoming to a lady’s maid who is both Irish and somehow American at the same time.”
“Ah.” I pressed my lips together. “I’m sorry, Molly.”
“Please don’t concern yourself. I have weathered far worse. It wasn’t easy immigrating to America from Ireland, but I managed and I’ll manage again.”
“I am inspired by your confidence. I will need to keep hold of my own if I want to make a success of this place.”
“You’ll exceed His Grace’s expectations, I’m certain.”
I hadn’t mentioned Ames’s name, so I was surprised that Molly understood my meaning.
After my day dress and corset were removed, Molly helped me into my evening corset.
It was designed for a more dramatic silhouette, which narrowed my waist even farther, lifting my bust, creating a more elegant posture.
Next came the layers of petticoats, crinolines, pads, and bustle.
The gown she’d chosen was stunning. It was made of blue silk, which would shimmer under the candlelight and highlight my blue eyes.
It was worn off the shoulders with a lower but modest décolletage.
The skirt was draped in the front and gathered over the generous bustle in back.
She restyled my hair into an elegant updo and finished it with a diamond comb tucked into my blond curls.
I wore a matching diamond necklace and finished by pulling on long, white gloves and dabbing my neck with perfume.
Standing in front of the mirror, I turned to inspect my reflection, pleased with Molly’s work.
“You look like a duchess,” she said with a smile. “His Grace will not be able to keep his eyes off you.”
My cheeks blushed, but I didn’t know why. Ames had made no indication that he was attracted to me, and I wasn’t sure a pretty dress or a little perfume would change his mind.
I left my room and slowly walked down the corridor, listening for Ames. The house was silent as I made my way back to the Cedar drawing room, where I assumed we would gather before supper.
Usually, the men would arrive in the drawing room first, since it took them less time to dress. But the drawing room was empty as I entered. A fire had been laid in the hearth, yet it was the only sign of life.
For fifteen minutes, I waited.
The dinner gong sounded again, indicating that supper would be served in five minutes.
And still no one entered the drawing room.
I stood for a long time at the window, watching the last of the sunshine fade into the western sky, then I paced in front of the fireplace, never feeling more alone in my life.
Finally, the door opened and I turned, my heart in my throat—only to find Freemont bent over his cane. A look of surprise, admiration, and then shyness came over his face as he saw me in my gown. “Mrs. Pontipee says to tell you that supper is served, Your Grace.”
He was about to leave the room when I stepped forward. “Freemont, where is the duke and the rest of the Welby brothers?”
Freemont paused. “I couldn’t say, Your Grace. Mrs. Pontipee shooed Lord Davis from the kitchen as soon as she moved into the castle this afternoon, and I believe I saw Lord Everett asleep in the library not too long ago.”
“And what of His Grace?”
“I haven’t seen him since this morning.”
Disappointment lowered my shoulders as Freemont stepped back and kept the door open for me.
I walked past him and moved toward the dining room.
The table had been set with care for six people, though time and misuse were evident in the presentation. The silver candelabra in the center was tarnished, the white tablecloth was yellowed with age, and the china was chipped and mismatched.
One of the footmen I’d hired that morning stood at attention in black livery next to a side table holding several trays of food.
“Mrs. Moore said to tell you she’s sorry,” Freemont said as he followed me into the dining room. “As soon as she’s able, she’ll polish the silver and whiten the linens. You’ll need to speak to her about the china.” It was one of the items on my list after touring the castle with Aunt Eliza.
“Yes, of course.” I nodded at him as he slowly moved around me and anchored himself with his cane as he tried to pull the chair out at the foot of the table.
He fumbled ungracefully until he nodded at the young footman to help.
After I was seated, Freemont stood as straight as he could and asked, “Shall we begin?”
“What about His Grace?” I frowned. “We can’t start without him.”
“Sometimes His Grace doesn’t come in until dark.”
“Don’t they eat as a family?”
“Sometimes. Not always.”
I took a deep breath, then pushed my chair back and stood.
“Where are you going?” Freemont asked, his eyes wide.
“To find my family.”
This would never do.
Perhaps they rarely ate dinner together before today. But now that I was here, things would change.
I didn’t hesitate but went directly to the Great Hall, where the gong was kept. I’d seen it there each time I walked through the room that day. Without a second thought, I lifted the mallet hanging by a leather cord and began to pound on the gong as hard as possible.
The sound pealed through the room as the force of my strikes reverberated up my arm.
I refused to stop until each Welby brother appeared.
They couldn’t be completely without manners.