Page 11 of A Deal with an Artistic Lady (Marriage Deals #2)

Over there by the window would be quite perfect, I think!’ Hannah pointed toward the brightest wall of the parlour room and Lucy carried the easel over to the directed spot to set it down.

‘Yes! Although I may just angle it slightly this way…’ Hannah adjusted the easel to benefit most effectively from the way the sunlight filtered in the window.

‘It’s perfect!’ Hannah clapped her hands together in joy, smiling gratefully at Lucy.

‘Now where did we pack the oils?’

‘Just here, Your Grace…’ Lucy reached into a canvas bag that housed a myriad of drawing and painting paraphernalia.

‘Pass that here, Lucy and I shall display all the materials to best suit my activities. Mayhap you could roll out the other canvases over on the other side?’

‘Directly, Your Grace,’ Lucy bobbed and went to do as her mistress bid her.

Hannah began to hum a pretty tune under her breath as the two of them sorted the newly prescribed art studio in companionable quiet. It was the happiest Hannah had felt since the day before her debut evening. The week had been fraught with emotional upheaval but at breakfast that morning, the Duke had announced he was meeting with Albert at a coffee room and Hannah instantly knew the best way to spend her morning. In truth, she had been mentally planning it since Caleb had shown her the room the previous day.

After several hours, Hannah artistically displayed her favourite brushes in a pretty ceramic pot Lucy had enquired about in the kitchen and stood back to assess the transformation of the parlour room. It was a morning well spent – she and Lucy beamed at each other across the space.

There were easels dotted about with blank canvases set ready for any moment Hannah’s artistic instincts should take hold and each station was accompanied by a small console table holding various pastels, paints and implements. Hannah had arranged it so that if she entered the room desiring a large, bold painting session, she would know the best location was the canvas in the far corner; alternatively, if she were in an introverted or focused mood, she should sit directly by the window to create something intricate and detailed in the full daylight. Never before had she had a space that afforded her such creative freedom.

Back home at the Haworth residence, Hannah had made her own spaces for her creativity – multiple sketches in her bedchamber; an easel erected in the parlour room, and another in the drawing room. If her mother entered, there would be a display of chiding from her mother and protests from Hannah. It was the only thing they bickered over but it caused Hannah to conceal her painting activities from her parents for the most part. She would find a quiet corner of the house and have Lucy help her set up the easel and canvas, lining the floor with anything she could find to protect any carpet, wooden slab, or marble tile. This would often afford her a couple of hours of creating before she would be found and instructed to pack it all away. It was a well-practised dance and Hannah felt grateful to her loyal maid Lucy who was very happy to assist in her covert enterprise. Evelyn never admonished Lucy for her involvement in Hannah’s mendacity, for she knew a good lady’s maid would abide by the requests of her mistress and Lucy was therefore inculpable.

Artistry was hence a surreptitious endeavour throughout Hannah’s life in her childhood home. Owning a space that could be exclusively reserved for painting and drawing was a dream come true and Hannah felt so grateful to Caleb for making it available to her. She had gone from the soul-destroying possibility that the Montwoods would entirely disallow any engagement in the arts, to being liberated and provided with the ideal environment for her creativity to thrive. Hannah couldn’t stop smiling, with the excitement that she could soon begin to utilise this room, unfettered and free.

Lucy interrupted her thoughts ‘Your Grace; your completed paintings from the Haworth residence; should we hang them upon the walls?’

‘Oh no Lucy,’ Hannah shook her head. She didn’t feel ready for that. Should anybody from the main house enter – which, of course, they were accorded to do at any chosen time – they would instantly be confronted by the inner workings of Hannah’s creative mind. Whilst she was not ashamed of her creations, she knew that they would not be held in positive regard by many members of the household and to display her work would only make her extremely vulnerable to criticism.

‘No, we shall pile them up over by that wall…’ Hannah helped Lucy to carry the existing works over to a blank wall and lean them carefully there. As she did so, she wondered what she kept them for and whether they would ever be really seen.

‘Thank you for your help, Lucy. Now – let us refuel on some food and this afternoon, I simply cannot wait to get started!’ Hannah felt abundant with the joy she always felt at the prospect of creating her art.

***

‘So, how goes it?’ Albert asked as he and Caleb took their seats in the bustling coffee room. In truth, Caleb would have preferred a more private space in which to talk with his friend, but he noted that – despite the many bodies in the relatively intimate room – the tables were well-spaced and groups at each table spoke in low, hushed voices. They too, it seemed, were there for conversation in confidence and so, once their steaming coffees had arrived, the Duke shuffled his chair further forward and leaned his elbows upon the table.

‘Her Grace – my wife…’

‘I’m quite sure she’d be comfortable with her husband referring to her as Hannah ,’ Albert laughed.

‘I am as yet unaccustomed with how to refer to her…’ Caleb laughed at himself.

‘Hannah,’ Caleb continued ‘is a resilient woman.’

Albert raised his eyebrow, interested in where this topic may lead.

‘My mother has not been entirely hospitable…’ Caleb implied.

‘Why, that doesn’t sound like your mother!’ Albert mocked, his voice laced with sarcasm. ‘The same Dowager Duchess who wrote to my mother reporting my terrible behaviour upon my first visit to Montwood as a schoolboy? What was it I had done? Told a charming story at the dinner table about a frog I had found in the garden!’

‘In later versions, she claimed you presented a frog at the dinner table!’ Caleb added sardonically.

‘I did nothing of the sort!’ Albert protested through an astonished laugh.

‘Quite.’ Caleb raised an eyebrow and sighed, exasperated, as ever, by his mother’s impractical overreactions.

‘Hannah has my most full and empathetic compassion. You must verily possess the flexibility of a contortionist to gratify your mother – and I daresay, you would still find yourself labelled as inadequate!’ Albert shook his head, reminiscing about his numerous encounters with the Dowager Duchess.

‘I would not blame Hannah should she cry each night in her bedchambers and should she have run from the room on various occasions since she began her life with us.’ Caleb shook his head, recoiling as he remembered Anne’s humiliation of Hannah on her arrival at the Montwood town-house; introducing her to the staff and promptly asserted that she was still to be considered the head of the household.

He thought to the evening with the Fairfax family, when his mother had blatantly placed Hannah in a situation where she had to publicly declare her lack of musical talent. He knew Anne had carefully orchestrated the evening to demonstrate Lucinda in a favourable light and make Hannah feel incompetent. Poor Hannah – he would not blame her at all if she refused to attend their meals on the basis that she was being consistently victimised.

‘But she has been stoic in her reception to my mother’s biting and has demonstrated notable fortitude,’ Caleb elaborated.

Albert tilted his head in interest.

‘She has impressed you!’

‘She is an impressive woman,’ Caleb acquiesced.

‘Have you had time to spend together, to learn about one another?’ Albert blew on his coffee to prepare its temperature for consumption.

‘Only fleetingly. There have been visitors and disruptions over these few days since our nuptials.’

‘And avoidance on your part, I’ll wager?’ Albert was the only friend who could banter with such brutality when it came to the Duke.

Caleb’s mouth twitched, vaguely amused by his friend’s brazenness.

‘I admit perhaps some avoidance. I was not interested in a wife, Albert, as well you know.’

‘And now?’

‘A friend. Perhaps it should be civil to be friends, as we will be navigating the decades toward oldage shoulder-to-shoulder.’

‘What a romantic perception!’ Albert jostled.

The Duke took a gulp of coffee without having blown on it, trusting that the curling steam would not feel as fearsome as it looked. He appeared unscathed and so Albert copied him, finding that the liquid burnt his tongue. He swallowed it down hastily with a cringing expression to reflect the pain he felt.

‘How do you take your coffee so hot?’ Albert spluttered.

‘I worry about her,’ Caleb mused, seemingly oblivious to his friend’s discomfort.

‘Your mother?’

‘Hannah. She is quite isolated and an oppressor can cause irremediable damage should the antagonism be permitted with no intervention…’

‘Then intervene, good man!’ Albert lifted his coffee cup as if raising a toast.

‘I shall. However, it is not without its complexities. My mother is extremely protective of her role within the household and defensive of her status within the family. She is clearly threatened by Hannah’s presence and I know that she can be vicious when she feels vulnerable.’

‘Hannah is your wife, Caleb. She must be your priority now,’ Albert leaned forward, imparting this knowledge to Caleb as if he were a novice.

‘And she is my priority,’ the Duke confirmed, nodding.

Albert stilled and sat slowly back in his chair, interlacing his fingers. With a smile, he repeated ‘She is? This woman who is virtually a stranger to you – she has come into your home, mysterious and surprisingly resilient. You barely know her, yet already she is your priority?’

The Duke blinked as Albert regaled him with his own story.

‘I admit she is. Partly because it is what my father wanted. Partly because – taking her as my Duchess, it is my responsibility to prioritise her. But there is another aspect – some care in me that is entangled with her. I confess she has me quite confused.’

Albert’s mouth had fallen open in happy astonishment.

‘She was only a business arrangement, Albert. I assure you, she was,’ Caleb told him sternly.

‘I am happy to witness your evolution, my friend,’ Albert teased, watching Caleb proudly.

***

Hannah had just taken a seat at her easel – often she stood, but following the morning’s pursuits of shifting furniture around with Lucy, she decided to relax into her creativity that afternoon. She lifted her paintbrush with a contented sigh, feeling as though she were coming home when the parlour door swung open. Hannah looked casually over, expecting to see Lucy but was thrown into rigidity as she saw the Dowager Duchess standing firm in the doorway, her hands on either side of the door frame, her flinty eyes roaming over the entire room and her mouth falling open in utter disbelief.

‘What in heaven and earth is happening in here?!’ she shrieked.

Hannah stood quickly as if by taking a physical stance, she could protect her sacred studio space.

‘Good afternoon, Your Grace – when Caleb provided a tour of the house, he specified that this room could be mine, to do whatever I should wish with it…’

Anne narrowed her eyes spitefully at Hannah as though she didn’t believe her.

‘This very morning, my maid Lucy helped me to convert the parlour into an art studio…’ Hannah continued and then took a deep breath before confessing ‘for Art is my true love and my passion. In particular, I love to paint…’ Hannah gestured around at the various canvases laid out ready for her inspiration.

‘Caleb told you this room could be yours?’ Anne queried.

‘He did,’ Hannah nodded and stood her ground.

‘This room.’ Anne looked about. Hannah wasn’t sure if it was a question, but remained quiet to allow the Duchess the opportunity to say her piece.

‘I sometimes use this room when ladies come to afternoon tea,’ Anne scowled at Hannah.

‘Do you? Perhaps then, I might suggest that Caleb was unaware of such activity. I very much doubt he would have offered it to me if he had considered it might impede your social gatherings…’

‘Whether or not he knew it, it is a truth,’ Anne raised her voice with antagonism.

‘I see. It is fortunate then, that the house has four other parlour rooms in which you could entertain…’ Hannah knew it was a bold suggestion and steeled herself for the response.

Anne inhaled sharply, clearly considering Hannah’s reply impertinent. Hannah – always eager to please – promptly found another solution.

‘If you have a particular preference for this parlour room, Your Grace, I could engage Lucy to assist me in relocating my art studio. If you would be so kind as to advise which of the rooms you would be happy for me to inhabit with my materials?’

Anne simply frowned at her and Hannah sensed the issue was not the precise room.

‘When Caleb offered you the room, did he not specify that you may use it for reading, music, or sewing?’

‘No, he did not. His exact words I believe were; This room is yours. To do with as you please… ’

Anne scoffed and began walking very slowly around the room, taking in each carefully set station with disdain. Her intimidating footsteps echoed on the wooden floor.

‘You are a naive girl. What he meant is that you may use the room for any activity considered appropriate for a Duchess.’

‘With respect, Your Grace, it is my belief that Caleb is aware of my passion for painting and that he gifted me this room with the intention I should make it my art studio.’

‘Well, you are WRONG!’ Anne turned sharply and bellowed at Hannah, making her startle. Anne’s temper flared like that of a toddler who had been refused a second biscuit. Hannah was quite alarmed by the sudden shift.

Hannah had not been brought up in a household of yelling and, as a result, this sudden aggressive mood assaulted her senses as impactful as a fist to the head might. Her mother might scold and her father could be rather self-important, yet they seldom raised their voices. When they did – which was rare - it was usually between the two of them, normally when her mother had perhaps overindulged with her father’s money at the shops. When she was small, her governess would be instructed to whisk her away whilst they ‘talked’. In later years, she respectfully departed to allow them privacy. It had never been an issue to her and certainly, never been directed at her.

Here now was this woman – who Hannah hardly knew and whom she had treated only with due respect and deferential will – screeching into Hannah’s face accusations that Hannah felt were unjust and unwarranted. She tried her hardest not to cry. She would not allow this persecutor to believe she was weak.

‘I do not understand how my son could possibly believe that a girl such as you could be a decent or respectable Duchess.’ Anne was ranting and all her pent-up frustrations came flooding out.

‘You cannot dance; as you demonstrated the other evening at your debut. You confess you do not play the piano, nor do you sing. And when provided with a room in which to sew, you utterly misunderstand the generous offer and convert a perfectly grand parlour room into a filthy warehouse!’

Hannah was beginning to tremble as each of Anne’s vitriolic words assaulted her. The worst of it was that she knew everything she said was true.

‘I am sorry you are not happy with Caleb’s choice of bride, Your Grace…’ Hannah began.

‘He did not CHOOSE you! His father did and he hadn’t even met you – he based his decision on his business relations with your father. If he had met you I am quite sure he would never have arranged such a shambolic match! My husband was a fool. Caleb would be so much better off with a Duchess such as Lady Lucinda Fairfax.’

Hannah swallowed down a sob.

‘I did not ask for this union,…’ Hannah attempted to defend herself.

‘And now you dare to be ungrateful? This is a most fortunate arrangement for you! You have gained the title of Duchess and are charmed to live in this most splendid of abodes!’

‘I did not mean…’ Hannah stepped forward, extending her hand in offering, trying any method of placating the raging woman before her.

Emmeline appeared in the doorway very suddenly, looking alarmed and staring at her mother with accusation.

‘Mother, what is happening here?’

‘And well you might ask! Look at the state of the room! Hannah, here, has taken it upon herself to scandalize our beautiful home by introducing an art gallery to our parlour…!’ Anne screeched.

Emmeline’s eyes ran a quick assessment of the room and landed back on her mother.

‘I didn’t mean that…I meant to ask why you are yelling at the Duchess?’

Anne received this like a punch to the stomach.

‘I am not yelling!’ she yelled.

Emmeline took a long, slow breath in and looked away from her mother, stepping inside the room to survey all of the equipment Hannah had meticulously laid out.

Hannah and Anne remained quiet and still, watching her move gracefully around the room.

Emmeline’s presence introduced a calmness into the room and Hannah thought how brave she was, to interrupt this barbaric conflict with a composed harmony, taking her time. Hannah would have considered that Emmeline was oblivious to the tension that fizzed toxically in the air, but she knew that she was being tactical and she appreciated her methodical intervention.

‘Do you prefer to use oils, Hannah?’ Emmeline turned, smiling at her sister-in-law.

Hannah was too stunned by Emmeline’s kind gesture to respond and simply stood, her mouth open, watching Anne’s reaction to her daughter essentially siding with Hannah.

Anne huffed indignantly, stamped one foot loudly and promptly stomped out of the parlour room.

Hannah released a breath and sat herself weakly down on the nearest stool.

‘I should love to see some of your art…’ Emmeline smiled sweetly, then noticing how deflated Hannah was following the altercation, added ‘but perhaps another day?’

Hannah looked at Emmeline, trying to articulate her gratitude but no words would come to her. Anne had utterly wilted her enthusiasm and short-lived belief that perhaps she could make a happy home in the Montwood residence.

‘Do not be defeated, Hannah,’ Emmeline nodded with a sad smile and slowly left, closing the door behind her.

Usually, when Hannah felt conflicted, painting was her therapy, but following the unprecedented clash with her mother-in-law, her hands shook too much to even try.

***

Caleb peered over at Hannah as he cut into his beef, which the chef had cooked to perfection.

‘How was your day, Hannah?’

She looked up at him in surprise – it was rare that he addressed her directly at the dinner table. He noted that her eyes looked wide and wet, as though she were a little frightened. He surmised there may be a shyness within Hannah that he had not been fully aware of before.

‘It…’ she looked quickly over to Anne, ‘it was very good, thank you,’ she replied stiffly and returned her attention quickly to her plate.

‘How did you spend your time?’

‘Oh…I…’ this time, she looked to Emmeline seemingly for reassurance ‘I sorted through some of my things. Lucy helped me to get settled and unpack a little more.’

‘Very good,’ Caleb concluded as he took the steak into his mouth and chewed it. He noticed that Hannah pushed the potatoes around her plate and it appeared as though her hand was shaking. He frowned, watching it, and felt a fierce protectiveness of her. He needed to continue to engage her in order to coax her out of her shell and help her feel comfortable – she should not have to feel ill at ease in her own home.

‘Have you started to read the book you selected from the library?’

Hannah looked up at him and he saw the spark return to her eye at the idea of the book.

‘I have. I do so love to sit in the window seat and read.’

‘My favourite place to sit and read as a boy!’ Caleb smiled encouragingly. ‘Wasn’t it, mother?’

‘Hmph,’ Anne did not meet his eye. A frown bothered Caleb’s brow at her reaction, but he swiftly moved on from it.

‘And how are you finding the book?’

‘Oh, it’s terribly interesting. I am learning many techniques that I was not previously cognizant of. It will be awfully useful to me,’ Hannah nodded her gratitude but had been careful not to mention the subject of the book – it felt too raw and she was certain the Dowager Duchess would jump upon the topic again if she should even mention Art.

‘I am very pleased to hear it. Perhaps you will select another book, at your leisure?’

‘I am excited to peruse your collection. Thank you, Caleb.’

He smiled warmly at her then and Hannah felt strange about it – whilst it was consoling to bathe in the light of his approval, she felt as though his attention was applied with a touch of pity and she did not want his charity. However, she would take any affection she was offered in this current seclusion, so she smiled back at him and took her first mouthful.

‘I met Albert at a lovely coffee house this morning,’ Caleb told the table and Hannah thought that he was talking more that evening than she had ever witnessed. She looked to Anne and Emmeline to see what their reaction was; whether this was usual for Caleb and she was only now beginning to see his true nature, or if he was indeed excessively enthusiastic that evening in particular. It was difficult to determine – Anne had her head sulkily over her plate and Emmeline looked as charmed by her big brother as she habitually did.

‘Are you fond of coffee, Hannah?’

‘I am. I visited a quaint coffee house on Mount Street just recently with Sophia, in fact.’

‘Why the very same I attended today!’ Caleb placed his fork on the table in a mark of exclamation.

‘Then you did indeed endure a treat!’ Hannah smiled, enjoying their mutual exchange.

‘I do believe Albert may have burnt his mouth, so eager he was to partake!’ Caleb jested.

‘I say, you must try to eat a little chocolate with your coffee,’ Hannah suggested.

Caleb looked at her questioningly.

‘It may sound a little strange, but Sophia had chocolates from her aunt when last we took coffee together and when one was tasted after the other, the flavour combination was quite exquisite!’

Caleb smiled warmly ‘I shall certainly try it.’

When the meal was done, Hannah politely excused herself.

‘I will retire early this evening; I am quite exhausted,’ she smiled at Caleb and Emmeline but avoided her mother-in-law’s eye.

Hannah scurried up the stairs as they exited the dining room and Emmeline placed a hand on Caleb’s arm to halt him. She paused, watching her mother disappear into an adjacent parlour room, and then pulled him back into the dining room.

‘Brother; a word please…’

Emmeline closed the door behind them, much to Caleb’s confusion.

Emmeline released a sigh, running a hand down her face, and pulled up a chair to perch upon.

‘Whatever is the matter, sister?’ Caleb queried, still hovering by the door.

A myriad of possibilities crossed his mind – perhaps his sister was sick or she had heard rumour from the staff that they were unhappy with some aspect of the new addition to their residential situation. On occasion, Emmeline would experience acute bouts of grief regarding the loss of their father and he would comfort her through it; he worried that she was enduring bereavement intensely and needed his support.

‘I am quite concerned,’ Emmeline shook her head regretfully. ‘Dear Hannah is being utterly tormented by our intolerable mother…’

It seemed obvious to him now. Of course, this should be the issue his sister would bring to him. Hannah had been on edge and nervous at dinner, needing more drawing out than usual to raise a smile. It did not come as a surprise to Caleb that his mother should be the one responsible for her trepidation.

Caleb stepped forward. ‘Has something happened?’

Emmeline nodded ‘Yes. Today whilst you were at the coffee house; a most unpleasant row broke out.’

‘A row ?’ Caleb couldn’t imagine Hannah participating in an argument.

‘A rather one-sided altercation, in truth. Mother confronted Hannah.’

‘Regarding what?’

‘Initially, I believe it was regarding the parlour room that Hannah has converted into her art studio, but mother’s hostility grew until she was spewing all her repressed contempt at the poor woman…’

Caleb paced furiously. ‘And how did Hannah react?’

‘She was strong in the face of it – she did not weep nor run from the room. In fact, she ventured a defensive statement or two, but it was no match for mother’s malevolence.’

Caleb took the seat opposite his sister, with a heavy sigh.

‘Did you say that Hannah converted the parlour room into an Art Studio?’

‘I did.’

Caleb smiled, enjoying this nugget of information. ‘Good for her!’

‘Was that not your intention, brother?’

He had not taken on a wife to rule her and he wanted Hannah to be able to express herself creatively if that was the way in which she navigated life happily. He was not going to ask her what the room was being used for, not was he going to enter the room to check – he had felt that he’d stolen her privacy and autonomy by uprooting her from her family home and bringing her to his house on a business arrangement. It was only right that he should provide her with some private space to make her own and he had no authority to question what she chose to do with that space. If she had volunteered the information, he would have been happy but it was not in his nature to encroach upon that privacy. He felt outraged that his mother had taken liberty in this department.

‘Indeed I thought perhaps she might make the room an art studio, but I would not be so presumptuous. I offered the room for whatever she chose to do with it – I anticipated, of course, that she would choose to utilise the space for her artwork, for I hear she has a talent for it. I am impressed by how promptly she did so, though it has not allowed me time to speak to Mother – that is my failing; I should certainly have informed Mother of the potential that the room would be repurposed. Her shock at the discovery would not have been so turbulent, perhaps.’

‘Do not blame yourself, Caleb – it is my belief mother would have been as angry as she was, even if she had been informed in advance. It is less an issue regarding the room and more related to the fact that Mother was not granted her own way…’

‘Her own way?’ Caleb looked quizzically at his sister.

‘That you did not marry Lady Lucinda Fairfax, silly! And that she now has to share you with a woman who was not of her own choosing. And that there is another Duchess – a new Lady of the house. She does not wish to be replaced. In short, I believe there is a great deal of jealousy and Mother would have reacted with this tantrum at some point. It is simply the Art Studio was the ideal catalyst… And of course, she does not consider a Duchess should be painting.’

Caleb nodded sadly, accepting this was likely the case.

‘How smart of you, Emmeline. To see it so clearly.’

‘It is easier to take a clarified perspective when you are a neutral onlooker. But she really was very nasty to Hannah, Caleb. You must not underestimate her level of virulence.’

‘What did she say?’ Caleb did not want to know the details but thought it wise to be informed.

Emmeline looked down, shamefully.

‘She compared Hannah to Lady Lucinda – insinuating Hannah was little more than an oaf when she danced and that she could not sing nor engage musically…’

Caleb experienced this as if somebody was insulting him, personally. This was a new exposure for him – to feel as defensive and angered on the behalf of another person as he would be for himself.

‘She told Hannah that she was not fit to be Duchess and that father would never have chosen her as a suitable match for you, had he met her…’ Emmeline continued.

Caleb stood abruptly, unable to hear this sitting down. He began to pace the room; his pent-up frustrations finding no outlet.

‘Did you just stand and listen to her spit these offensive remarks, sister?’ Even as he asked, he knew it was unfair to place any blame on loyal Emmeline.

‘No, Caleb. You must not think that I did! I was outside in the corridor…. I had heard shouting begin as I passed through the hallway and was intrigued to hear what had sent Mother into such fury. I had to listen a moment before entering, in order to deduce the best way for me to intervene. I was utterly shocked to hear what was being said and interrupted the moment I knew the most effective method of intervention.’

Caleb’s shoulders sank.

‘Forgive me, Emmeline. I should not have accused you. I am simply so angry at Mother. Tell me, how did you reconcile?’

‘I confronted Mother; asking why she was yelling at Hannah. She had foolishly assumed I would side with her and when I did not, she walked out.’

‘This is why she was silent and morose at dinner this evening?’ Caleb checked.

‘It is. She should be entirely ashamed of herself but only sees her own pain. She cannot fathom that she is causing such agony to sweet Hannah.’

‘You don’t think she is aware how much disruption her manner causes?’ Caleb was perplexed by this summation.

‘I believe Mother is a selfish being who is blind to how her actions and words can injure others. I would like to believe that she is not purposely callous.’

Caleb shrugged, indicating that he did not know either way.

‘The consequence is sadly the same. I should check on Hannah…’ Caleb made to move toward the door.

‘If I may be so bold, brother-’ Emmeline interrupted his stride. ‘I would suggest you let her be. Allow her to cry and grieve this evening. Tomorrow, I know, she is due to attend an art gallery which is her most cherished pastime. Permit her a replenishing sleep and some freedom from this household tomorrow will revive her spirits.’

Caleb considered this a moment and then nodded.

‘Thank you for your support, Emmeline,’ he crossed to his sister and kissed her upon the crown of her head.

‘Always,’ Emmeline whispered and smiled sadly at him.

The Duke left the room and headed for his office, locking the door so that he would not have to see or speak to his reprehensible mother.