Emma stood quietly, her eyes following them until they were out of sight. There was something peculiar about the interaction. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but there was an undercurrent of something deeper—something unsaid.
The stable yard fell into an uneasy silence, broken only by the distant sound of horses shifting in their stalls and the occasional rustle of hay. Emma wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the coolness of the evening settling in. What could Mr. Hatfield want after all these years?
Emma returned to the manor with her thoughts still swirling around Mr. Hatfield and the peculiar tension she had witnessed. Determined to learn more, she made her way to the sitting room where Mrs. Havisham, the housekeeper, was arranging fresh flowers in a vase.
“Mrs. Havisham,” Emma began, her voice soft yet inquisitive, “may I ask you something about Mr. Hatfield?”
The housekeeper looked up from her work, her brow lifting slightly in curiosity. “Of course, Your Grace. Is something the matter? I heard he was here.”
“I just met him outside, and I was curious. Evan—His Grace—mentioned that Mr. Hatfield was once the stable master. Did you know him?”
Mrs. Havisham’s expression grew thoughtful as she set the flowers down. “Ah, William Hatfield. He’s been part of the estate for a long time. He started as a groom when His Grace’s father was the duke and eventually became the stable master over time. A good man. Quiet, dependable. But…” She hesitated.
Emma tilted her head. “But what?”
Mrs. Havisham sighed, lowering her voice. “The old duke—His Grace’s father—didn’t care for him. In fact, he didn’t care for any of the younger male staff.”
Emma frowned. “Why not?”
“His Grace was a... possessive man,” Mrs. Havisham explained carefully, her words measured. “He didn’t like any young men around his wife. He was convinced they might… take liberties or distract her. It was ridiculous, of course, but none of the male servants were allowed to talk to her, at least not the ones insidethe house. She was permitted to converse with the gardeners, some of the stable staff, and a few others but that was it. And only if they were of a specific age group. The only men he would allow around Her Grace were those he considered too young to pose a ‘threat’ or those he thought were too old.”
“Those who were too old?” She thought back to Hatfield. He did indeed appear older for someone who’d been stable master not twenty years ago. She’d thought him in his sixth decade at least.
“Yes, older or younger, of ages His Grace felt were of no interest to Her Grace. It was silly of course, the poor woman dreaded her husband and never would have done anything to displease him. For a while, His Grace even restricted the number of female servants that were allowed to be around his wife. It was rather awful.”
“The female servants?” Emma asked. Evan had never told her much detail about his father’s actions, only that he was cruel.
“Yes, he did not wish for her to have friends, especially after his son was born. He wanted her focus solely on their child. He would not allow for a governess, only a nurse. He’d allow maids. It was…unpleasant to say the least.”
Emma absorbed this revelation with a sense of unease. “But Mr. Hatfield was allowed to stay? My husband told me he used to take him for rides.”
Mrs. Havisham nodded. “Yes, Mr. Hatfield was twenty years Her Grace’s senior and he served in a more fatherly fashion, whichHis Grace did not mind. At least for a time. He would allow them to go riding, so that his son could experience it and gain skill. Her Grace would accompany them when she was permitted. As I recall, those were some of the happiest times for His Grace. His mother adored riding, and Mr. Hatfield treated them both with great kindness and respect. There was a peacefulness in those moments—when the old duke wasn’t around.”
Emma felt a pang of sympathy for Evan. No wonder he held such fond memories of those rides. They had been an escape from the oppressive presence of his father. Emma nodded, her mind racing. There was clearly more to this story than she had initially realized, and now she wondered what Mr. Hatfield had wanted to discuss with Evan. Whatever it was, it felt like the past was stirring again, and Emma couldn’t shake the feeling that something important was about to unfold.
“Thank you, Mrs. Havisham,” she said and excused herself. Emma entered the hall leading to the main staircase, her mind swirling with questions. Evan had been acting strangely since their return from the monastery, his easy demeanor shadowed by something unsaid.
As she passed the study, she heard voices spilling out – first an unknown one and then Evans though the words were obscured by the sound of the door.
She knew Hatfield was meeting with him in the study. It was enough to stir a sense of unease she couldn’t shake. She paced the hall outside Evan's study, her shoes muffled against the plush carpet as she debated with herself.
Should I listen in?
No. They were in a different place now, she and Evan. Their relationship had grown, deepened. They trusted each other. There was no need to revert to the habits of suspicion and doubt.
But the unease remained.
Emma turned on her heel, determined to walk away, only to find herself drawn back to the door. Her feet carried her there before she had consciously decided, and as she approached, faint voices reached her ears, confirming her suspicion.
She paused at the threshold, feeling both shame and a compelling curiosity. It isn’t wrong to make sure everything is fine, she told herself, trying to justify her actions. But even as she thought it, she knew it was an excuse. It was what she heard next that froze her in place.
“You need to speak to her,” Mr. Hatfield’s voice said, calm but insistent.
Emma’s breath caught. Speak to her? Who? Was he referring to her? She edged closer, her hand braced lightly on the doorframe as she strained to hear.
“I already have,” Evan replied, his tone quiet but firm. “There’s nothing more I can do. She’s stubborn. She won’t listen.”
Hatfield let out a low chuckle. “That’s rich, coming from you. Stubbornness is a trait you know well. It makes you quite a pair, I’d say.”
