“No need to make any elaborate preparations for dinner,” Giltford said suddenly, his tone as brisk as ever. “I shan’t be joining you. Your meal will be brought up to your chambers once it’s time.”
Before Margaret could muster a response, he gestured to a severe-looking woman standing at the end of the line. “Mrs. Hallewell will show you to your chambers.”
The housekeeper stepped forward, her movements precise but devoid of any warmth or grace. Her grey hair was pulled back into a severe bun, and her pale complexion, devoid of any color, made her appear as lifeless as the rest of the castle.
“This way, Your Grace,” Mrs. Hallewell said, her voice clipped and monotone. It was the first—and only—sentence she spoke as they began their procession through the darkened hallways.
The hallways stretched endlessly, the flickering candlelight casting long, ominous shadows against the cold stone walls. Margaret felt each step weigh heavier, her apprehension growing with every turn. The housekeeper’s footsteps echoed dully, and her silence was so absolute it seemed to swallow any attempt Margaret might have made at conversation.
The journey felt like an eternity before they finally reached her chambers. Mrs. Hallewell opened the heavy wooden door, revealing a room as somber as the rest of the castle. The curtains were drawn tightly shut, blocking out what little light the evening might have offered. The furniture was dark, ornate, and oppressive, and the chill in the air made Margaret shiver.
“As you do not seem in possession of a lady’s maid, shall I inquire for someone suitable to fill the position?” Mrs. Hallewell’s voice broke the silence at last, though her words felt more like a pronouncement than a genuine question.
Margaret nodded numbly, her attention still fixed on the dreary surroundings. “Thank you,” she managed.
“In the meantime, I shall help you settle in for the night,” the housekeeper added, leaving no room for Margaret to politely decline.
Margaret felt a twinge of unease but said nothing as Mrs. Hallewell moved efficiently about the room, lighting candles and pulling out the essentials for the evening. Every motion felt mechanical, lacking the warmth or care Margaret had known in her uncle’s household. The atmosphere grew more stifling with every moment, the silence so oppressive Margaret thought she might choke on it.
When her meal arrived, it was grand—roasted pheasant, buttered vegetables, and a decadent tart—but it only served to highlight her solitude. The table was set impeccably, yetMargaret ate alone, her appetite failing her despite the rich fare. The grandeur of the meal felt almost mocking in the silence.
She tried to distract herself, imagining the lively banter that might have filled the room in another life, perhaps in her uncle’s household. Peggy recalled one evening, days before she married Morgan:
“Peggy, dear, you’ve barely touched your food. You’ll waste away if you keep this up,” Petunia said with exasperation in her tone. “And no Duchess worth her salt can lead without a proper meal.”
Margaret smiled, recalling how Petunia always balanced practicality with genuine care. “I was simply saving room for dessert,” she teased.
“Dessert!” Anna interjected, a sly grin spreading across her face. “Is that what we’re calling it now? Or are you just practicing the art of subtlety for your new role?”
Margaret huffed in mock indignation. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Oh, you do,” Anna replied with a laugh. “Soon you’ll be so poised and composed that we’ll hardly recognize you. Won’t we, Uncle Sebastian?”
Sebastian, always quick to defuse their playful sparring, chuckled as he reached for another slice of bread. “I doubteven a Duchess’s title can strip Margaret of her charm—or her tendency to arrange dinner plates into castles.” His eyes twinkled with amusement. “Do you remember that, Peggy? Your elaborate fortresses made of gravy boats and soup tureens?”
“Uncle!” Margaret exclaimed, feigning outrage, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her affection. “I was a child!”
“Yes, but even then, you were determined to command your little kingdom,” he said with a wink. “Good practice, I’d say.”
Petunia leaned back, her expression softening as she observed Margaret. “You’ll manage, Peggy, I’m sure of it,” she said, her tone a mixture of encouragement and pragmatism. “Though a Duchess is expected to do much more than merely grace a table.”
“And what does that mean, Aunt?” Margaret asked, though her voice was light, her curiosity genuine.
“It means,” Petunia said, gesturing slightly with her fork, “that you’ll need to find your footing quickly. A household is not unlike a small kingdom, and its success depends entirely on its ruler.”
Anna snorted, breaking the momentary seriousness. “Well, if that’s the case, Margaret had better eat something. You can’t rule a kingdom on an empty stomach.”
Laughter rippled around the table, andPeggy joined in, warmth spreading through her chest as she looked at the faces of her family.
The memory dissolved, and here, there were no voices to fill the void, no teasing remarks or shared smiles. There was only silence.
How I miss them,Margaret thought, her chest tightening as she forced herself to take another bite. The food, though exquisitely prepared, felt heavy and tasteless on her tongue, as though it too bore the weight of the castle’s gloom.
Eventually, Mrs. Hallewell removed the all but untouched dishes with an almost imperceptible glance of disapproval and left Margaret to her own devices. Margaret climbed into the vast, empty bed, her fingers clutching the thick coverlet as she stared at the ceiling.
The question lingered in her mind, heavy and unspoken. Would Giltford join her?
She lay in silence, waiting, her thoughts a storm of uncertainty and unease as the cold walls of the castle seemed to close in around her. Her thoughts were a tangled mess, and no amount of turning on the pillow seemed to bring her closer to comfort. The oppressive silence of the castle pressed heavily upon her, and the cold sheets only amplified the emptiness she felt. After what seemed an eternity of torment, she could bear it no longer.
