Eammon
Later that afternoon, Eammon sat in his chamber, casting open the window. Night had fallen, and stars sprinkled across the sky. The dark clouds had lifted just in time for him to see them. He sighed and stepped toward the door, pulling a heavy cord that would summon a servant from the hall to collect the tray.
He had found little appetite; the past few days had settled like stones in the pit of his stomach. Moreover, there remained much to accomplish. He needed to write to the barrister of Pembroke to arrange for the dowry to be delivered alongside the inheritance.
He also needed to arrange for Charity’s pony to be brought the following day; he did not want to delay the matter. She may have been unmanageable and rude toward him, but he was a man of honor and would not break a promise.
A knock at the door brought him from his reverie, and he called out, “Enter.” He was taken aback to see Mrs. Frames in his chambers rather than one of the expected footmen. It was uncustomary for the housekeeper to collect trays of food.
“Mrs. Frames,” he greeted, “how does Her Grace fare?” Surprised by his own inquiry, he recognized the unintentional concern he felt toward her, despite having not been preoccupied with thoughts of her. “Has she settled into her chamber, or has she made her dwelling in the stables?”
Mrs. Frames frowned, tipping her head slightly in confusion. He waved a hand dismissively. “A jest between her and I.”
“I see. Her Grace has indeed settled into her chamber. I made a point to attend to her. In the morning, I will sit with her to explain how the household operates and what her expected role shall be.”
“Good,” he replied, relieved. “But do keep in mind, she has never managed a household before, and she is still quite young. It is possible she is still grieving her father's loss, particularly as it has only been six months.”
“Yes, I am aware. The family has only recently exited mourning. The staff was surprised to hear she was only just out of mourning and will tend to her accordingly,” the housekeeper acknowledged, and he discerned a hint of reproach in her tone.
“I would not have willed the marriage as it occurred, but circumstance demanded it,” he replied. He was not in the habit of explaining himself to servants, but Mrs. Frames had been with his family for a long time, and thus he felt she deserved such considerations.
“You owe me no explanations, Your Grace,” she replied, and he nodded in understanding.
“Has she dined?” he inquired.
“Yes, her dinner has just been cleared away,” she affirmed.
“Good,” he said, relieved that she had not refused food. He recalled tales of his aunt Hannah's refusal to eat when she was first wed to a man of whose character she disapproved. He smiled to himself at the thought. Thomas’s parents were among the happiest couples he had ever encountered, inseparable in all things. To think they’d once disliked each other was bizarre.
“May I propose a suggestion, Your Grace?” the housekeeper ventured hesitantly.
“By all means,” he replied.
She shifted uneasily, fidgeting as she spoke. “It may not be my station to comment, yet I was surprised to note that Your Grace did not join your wife for dinner in the dining room.”
He inhaled deeply. He had indeed considered extending an invitation for her to dine with him, but given the acrimonious nature of their early conversations, he had refrained, knowing it would likely be thrust back in his face.
“I do not believe Her Grace and I shall partake of dinner together; it is not what she wishes,” he replied.
“Are you quite certain? Do you not think it…I beg your pardon; it is not my place, but I merely thought that…”
“Her Grace had no fondness for our arrangement,” he stated, aware that disclosing this would quell her inquiries. “And frankly, neither do I. It is what it is.”
“I gather as much,” she replied. “Only because the situation transpired so abruptly, and well…”
He nodded in understanding. Of course, there would be whispers regarding the haste of their marriage. Undoubtedly, tongues would wag.
“Mrs. Frames, I would appreciate it if gossip among the servants was kept to a bare minimum. None would be preferable.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” she acquiesced. “Yet in that regard, it would also help if you were seen dining with your wife. Though she may oppose the arrangement now, perhaps in time, as she becomes better acquainted with you, that will change. It will keep the gabsters at bay.”
He smiled at the consideration. There were other ways to deal with gabsters. Letting them go was one, but his parents had been the sort to always retain staff for as long as possible, and he wasn’t of a mind to break that tradition.
“I will take it under advisement,” he said, ending the conversation. As much as he admired his housekeeper, he would do what he thought was right. If the time and circumstances were ideal to dine with Charity, he would do so. But for the time being, he had to follow his own convictions.
CHAPTER14
Charity
