Violet had only her father’s small study for reference. He spent hours in that room, leaning over papers and consulting legal texts. Her father was a poor man with a family to support, though, and not the Duke of Farnham, doubtlessly the wealthiest man in Essex.
“He works in there,” Emma said, although there was a strange catch in her voice. Violet sensed that the lady’s maid was uncomfortable with the question. “I am afraid that I know little more than that, Your Grace. Before your arrival, I was the parlor maid, so His Grace and I often did not see one another.”
“Oh.”
“Mrs. Gunderson is the best person to ask about his mood and habits,” Emma added. “She knows him better than anyone.”
“I see,” Violet replied.
It was strange. While living in the hunting lodge, she had felt like she knew nothing about the Duke of Farnham. Now, she felt as if she somehow knew even less about the man, despite living on his own estate.
Violet chewed thoughtfully on the eggs. Her fingers ached to do something. If she had not wed His Grace, she would be preparing breakfast for her mother and father. Then, she would have washed her mother. After that, Violet would have wandered into the village to trade or find work. Sometimes, she did mending for the villagers, or she sold the apothecary roots she had dug up by the riverbank.
Her mornings were filled with walking through the forests, with searching the woods, and speaking with the villagers. It seemed strange to spend the morning eating breakfast in such a beautiful room, rather than hastily eating a chunk of bread as she walked to the village or the river.
“How long have you worked for His Grace?” Violet asked.
“A few years,” Emma replied.
“You would have arrived during his absence,” Violet said, hesitant because she could notquiterecall when the Duke of Farnham had decided to retreat to his country estate in Essex.
“Yes,” Emma said. “I was hired by Mrs. Gunderson. Upon occasion, Lady Priscilla would pay visits to Groveswood.”
“Lady Priscilla?”
“She is the lady who owns the estate beside His Grace’s,” Emma explained.
“Oh!”
Violet had not known the lady’s name, but she did knowofher. The estate beside Groveswood belonged to a widowed noblewoman whose husband had died of consumption when the lady was young. She spent most of her days in London, but on the rare occasions when she came to Essex, the lady could be seen riding in the countryside. She was said to be generous and beautiful.
“I have never met her,” Violet said.
“After the late duchess’s death, I am told that Lady Priscilla seldom came to her country estate,” Emma said.
Violet shivered and took another sip of her tea, as if she could force away the chill which came when she remembered that her husband was accused of murder. Emma would not have met the late Duchess of Farnham. Like Violet, she would have only heard rumors about the woman.
“Where else…I feel as though I should do something,” Violet said.
Emma hummed. “I believe it is customary for the Duchess of Farnham to answer the correspondence in the mornings. You do not have any yet, Your Grace, but I am certain you shall.”
Was she? Violet could not imagine that any of the ton would be eager to meet her. She was too common, and she lived too far away from London. Even she knew that most of the aristocracy would be in London for the Season. Violet ate a plump slice of apple, savoring the sweetness on her tongue.
“Perhaps,” Emma said, “I could show you the rooms in the manor or around the estate. I do not believe Mrs. Gunderson has shown you everything yet, has she?”
“She has not.” Violet paused. “Is that allowed?”
Emma furrowed her brow. “Why would it not be, Your Grace? You are the Duchess of Farnham.”
Because I am afraid it might displease my husband,Violet privately thought. She hid her fears with a small laugh. “I am still becoming accustomed to being here. Everything in Groveswood seems larger than anything I have ever seen before.”
Emma’s face softened. “It is strange. I am certain that it shall become less so in time, Your Grace.”
Violet nodded. She felt as though Emma was far more confident about the situation than she was, though. After all, Emma had not married a man whom she had never met, a man whom—it seemed—had no inclination to speak with Violet since marrying her.
If His Grace would not even deign to be in the same room with her, Violet would never know if the rumors about his murder of the late duchess were true. Worse, Violet could not decide if she would rather know the truth or not. If the truth was that the Duke of Farnham had murdered his late wife, would it be better or worse knowing that she had married a man who might—at any moment—do the same to her?
Chapter 15
