Margaret remembered something Theodore had said in the carriage. She was permitted to change anything in the house she wanted, as long as she left his chamber and his study alone.
“I need not seek his approval.” Margaret stood taller. “I can make what changes I like to the house. He has already said as much. I intend to make it my home, Betsy, if you will help me?”
Betsy giggled joyously.
“It’s about time this house felt like a home.”
Margaret hesitated before getting into her bath as Betsy left the room.
What did she mean by that?
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Here you go, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.” Margaret smiled up at Mrs. Lancaster as a fresh pot of tea was laid on the table. The kindly lady turned away, adjusting one or two things on the table as she made her way back toward the door.
Left alone, Margaret looked around the room. Like the rest of the chambers in this house, it was both beautiful and faded. The duck egg blue wallpaper lined with damask swirls, was almost indistinct from the cream molded door frames that desperately needed a lick of paint.
Though the staff had kept the house perfectly clean, the ornaments and silver buffed to a shine, even the ornaments, much like the décor, were out of fashion and old. They gave the distinct impression of being unloved, too. Margaret could not imagine Theodore walking through this room and admiring the impersonal landscapes or cold silver plates.
Looking between the paintings, it struck Margaret that there wasn’t a single portrait in the room. There was no smiling face to look down on her, though hint of a family member who was cherished enough to reincarnate in paint on the walls.
The whole room was… impersonal.
Margaret’s eyes flicked from the walls to the head of the table. Oddly, the place hadn’t even been made up for Theodore. Instead, his chair was pushed into the table, the table left bare, with all the food placed around Margaret for breakfast.
Sighing, Margaret reached for none of it as she waited for something else to happen in this room.
Surely, Theodore will come for breakfast?
Yet he did not. The next time the door opened, it was once more Mrs. Lancaster, with Betsy and Yates behind her. The three of them carried bowls of fresh food, far too much than could be expected of Margaret to eat.
“What is all this?” Margaret whispered in astonishment as the trenchers were placed down onto the table.
“The master was unsure what you liked, Your Grace, so he was insistent we made as much as possible,” Mrs. Lancaster said with a smile.
Steaming bowls of fresh smoked fish, loaves that had just been baked, and exquisitely carved fruit were placed down in front of Margaret’s wide eyes.
“Erm… and where is the Duke?” Margaret murmured.
All three of the staff members halted. Margaret thought she saw Betsy and Yates exchange uncertain glances, but Mrs. Lancaster’s response was much smoother.
“He is taking his breakfast alone in his study.”
“In his study?” Margaret repeated, a little louder than she had intended. Betsy nearly dropped a napkin she had picked up in surprise, leaving Yates to snatch it from the air quickly. “And… did he give a reason for this?” Margaret worked hard to keep her voice quiet and at a normal level, despite the irritation bubbling away beneath the surface.
Now he is to avoid me? Am I to eat every meal alone because my husband can stand the sight of me so little?
“No, Your Grace.” Mrs. Lancaster looked dutifully pink and embarrassed. “Ring the bell if you need anything.”
“Thank you.” Margaret forced a smile, though it didn’t even last until the housekeeper reached the door, with Betsy and Yates hot on her heels.
I cannot live like this. Every meal alone? No, it shall not be born.
A sudden rage seemed to pierce through Margaret’s body. She had to change things. She had to make clear to Theodore from the off that she would not dance to his tune all the time.
“On second thoughts.” Margaret stood. The scraping of her chair was loud in the room as the staff turned back to face her. “Could you all do me a big favor please?” She picked up her plate, cutlery and napkin. “Would you help me transfer all these trenchers to my husband’s study please?”
