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“Please inform Mrs. Smith and the other senior members of the staff that I wish to see them early tomorrow after breakfast. That is urgent, and I wish to speak with them.”

Mr. Graves hesitated for only a moment. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

Violet stood alone for a moment after he left, gathering her confidence. You are the Duchess, she reminded herself. You must act like one.

So bright and early after breakfast the next morning, it was finally time to put her skills to the test. The room filled with the muted sounds of footsteps and murmurs as the staff gathered. Violet noticed the way they avoided her gaze, or perhaps they weren’t sure whether to meet it at all.

Mrs. Smith, in particular, seemed to regard her with that same inscrutable look that Violet had come to expect—a mixture of skepticism and patient disapproval.

The murmurs quieted as Violet took a breath and turned to face them. Her pulse quickened, but she reminded herself not to get too nervous.

She had to act like a duchess, even if she did not feel like one yet.

“Thank you all for coming this morning,” she began, her voice carrying through the room. “I have asked you here because now that I am settled, I intend to take a more active role in managing the estate.”

Mrs. Smith’s brow lifted ever so slightly, her mouth pressing into a thin line. Of course, she has an issue with it. Violet thought, but she refused to be cowed. Not this time.

“There are certain matters I wish to address,” Violet continued, holding her ground.

“It has not escaped my notice that some aspects of Bernight Estate remain unchanged for many years. However, as the Duchess, I believe that some adjustments are necessary for the improvement of both the household and the estate.”

Silence.

Mrs. Smith stepped forward, her hands folded neatly in front of her. “Your Grace,” she began, her tone measured, “I have worked at this estate for over thirty years. Things have run smoothly in that time, and I daresay it would be unwise to disrupt what has already proven to be successful.”

Violet had expected this. She’d prepared for it. She met Mrs. Smith’s steady gaze.

“And I appreciate your dedication to the estate,” Violet said firmly. “Your knowledge of this house is invaluable to me. But times are changing, Mrs. Smith. We must accommodate them.”

The faintest twitch of surprise crossed Mrs. Smith’s expression before she concealed it again.

“What sort of changes do you mean, Your Grace?”

Violet glanced at the notes in her hand. She had prepared them earlier that morning.

“For a start,” she said, “I intend to have the west wing reopened and restored. It has been left unused for far too long, and it could be a benefit to the household. Additional guest rooms, perhaps an expansion of the library?—”

“The west wing?” Mrs. Smith interrupted, her voice carefully polite. “It has been closed for years. It would take considerable effort to prepare it again.”

“And considerable effort is what I am asking for,” Violet replied, her tone unwavering. “This estate is my responsibility now. I intend to make the best use of its spaces.”

There was a pause, just long enough for Violet to wonder, Have I gone too far? Perhaps I am pushing them too much.

Mrs. Smith’s expression remained unreadable, but she said nothing. Instead, she glanced at Mr. Graves, who remained neutral and inscrutable as ever, before nodding slightly.

“Very well, Your Grace,” Mrs. Smith said at last. “If you believe it will serve the estate, we shall see to it.”

Violet’s breath released slowly though she kept her composure intact.

Thank heavens.

“Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” she said with an inclination of her head.

“Additionally, I would like to revisit some of the staff schedules. I have noticed there are periods when some of the junior staff are overworked while others have idle hours. I’d like you to help me draft a schedule that ensures fairness and efficiency. ”

Mrs. Smith blinked. For a moment, Violet thought she might argue again, but then she inclined her head. “As you wish, Your Grace.”

“Thank you,” Violet said again, her confidence growing with every word. This seems to be actually working. “Lastly, I will begin meeting regularly with the groundskeeper to review the grounds and the tenant’s needs. I believe improvements can be made there as well.”

The head groundskeeper, who had been standing silently to the side, looked up at this. “I’d be glad to work with you on that, Your Grace,” he said, a hint of approval in his gruff tone.

Violet offered him a small smile, grateful for his agreement. “I look forward to it.”

She turned back to the group, her shoulders square, her voice steady. “I know that these changes may seem sudden, but I believe they are necessary. I do not intend to disrupt what works, only to build upon it. This estate is not just my home—it is my duty, and I take that duty seriously.”

For a moment, no one spoke. The silence stretched on, but it no longer felt intimidating.

Finally, Mrs. Smith gave a short nod, her gaze softer now though still reserved. “Very well, Your Grace. We shall see to your wishes.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the room, and as the staff began to disperse, Violet felt something shift.

The butler offered her a small bow before leaving, and even Mrs. Smith lingered just a moment longer, her expression thoughtful, before following suit.

As the door clicked shut, Violet released a slow, steady breath. Her hands were trembling slightly, but for the first time, she felt it— she had done it.

She had taken control. And in that moment, she could swear the air in the room was different, as though the house itself had recognized her.

She was finally acting like a duchess.

Outside, a soft knock startled her. The groundskeeper stood behind it, his cap in hand.

“Beg pardon, Your Grace,” he said, “but I wanted to say… the west wing’s been quiet too long. You’re right to open it.”

Violet smiled at him, warmth spreading in her chest. “Thank you.”

As he left, Violet turned toward the window, her gaze drifting to the estate beyond. The staff had listened. Even Mrs. Smith— as stubborn and set in her ways as she was—had complied. They had seen her.

And that was a victory. Perhaps her first one in this estate.

A week later, Violet was happy to see that the changes were coming along swimmingly . The staff—now that they seemed to actually respect her—were giving her regular updates on how everything was going.

Bit by bit, her confidence was developing. They had already begun to venture into the west wing of the estate, but there was one room in particular that she had saved for last.

The library.

It had always felt… intimidating . Perhaps because it was the one place in the house she held the most interest in or perhaps because of the extensive collection that was housed within it.

But today, with her confidence growing and the house itself beginning to feel less foreign, Violet felt ready. Today is the day.

She inhaled deeply and pushed open the doors, her breath catching as she stepped inside.

Oh heavens. It is even better than I expected.

Floor-to-ceiling shelves lined every wall. Rows upon rows of books stretched on endlessly, interrupted only by two arched windows. A towering ladder leaned casually against one shelf, a silent invitation to explore what was in the upper reaches of the tall shelves.

Violet moved forward, her fingers brushing against the spines of the nearest books.

She tilted her head up, completely captivated.

There were works of philosophy, history, and poetry, and she spotted a section dedicated entirely to foreign languages.

She felt as though she was in her own personal heaven.

“This might take me a lifetime,” she muttered to herself with a small, delighted smile.

If Violet had known such treasures existed before then, she would have spent all of her waking hours ensconced inside the walls of this very room.

The estate had been in the family for over three hundred years, and the collection was clearly a testament to that.

The library had obviously been cultivated over generations.

How very, very delightful.

As she ventured toward the corner, something on a lower shelf caught her eye—a small stack of books, unmarked but clearly well-worn. Curious, Violet crouched down and pulled one of them free.

The moment she opened it, her face flushed crimson, and her hand flew to cover her mouth. She closed back the book just as quickly.

It was… risque.

The words on the page were not those of polite poetry or scholarly musings. No, rather it was filled with things no lady ought to read. Certainly, it was not literature that was available in libraries that she’d had access to before.

And yet somehow, it only added to her growing curiosity. Slowly, she reopened the book again.

Violet’s eyes widened, but her gaze remained firmly fixed on the lines before her. The descriptions were vivid.

“ Oh, ” she breathed, her cheeks heating.

Her fingers lingered on the edge of the page. Who on earth keeps such things in the library? she thought, scandalized.

Hesitantly, she flipped the page, her heart hammering in her chest.

“What are you doing, Violet?”