Page 39 of His Illegitimate Duchess

T he second day of their journey resembled the first – after three hours, they stopped to bait the horses, then they stopped to change the horses, and then, after one more stop, they were finally at the gates of Norwich manor.

Elizabeth was relieved, not only because two days in a carriage was a taxing ordeal, but also because conversation with her husband today had been more taxing and more unnatural than the day before.

She was excited to go over the events of the past two days with Mary, who was supposed to have already arrived that morning, together with Robert, Talbot’s cook, and his valet.

Elizabeth wondered how tired they all had to be, since they drove through the night, stopping only to bait or change horses.

Upon exiting the carriage, Elizabeth felt awed and dwarfed by the enormous house that was now her home.

She’d never seen a building as grandiose as this one, or with this many windows.

The window tax must be insupportable! Not even Ashbury can compete with this, she thought, feeling no loyalty to what was supposed to be her heritage.

Somewhere, grass had recently been cut, and the clean air combined with the pleasant smell was a shock for Elizabeth’s senses, which had been accustomed to the polluted and unpleasant London air.

She glanced at her husband, who somehow seemed to stand even taller here, his whole attitude that of the rightful heir to all this opulence.

Elizabeth was once more struck by the difference between them.

His steward was the first to greet them: a blond, charming man with a jaunty grin who was introduced to her as Mister Edward Brandon.

He shook her husband’s hand, and they patted each other on the shoulder, and Elizabeth quickly deduced that they were very good friends.

She’d never seen her husband be that jovial with anyone, or so quick to laugh.

Mr. Brandon was the one who introduced the staff to her: Mr. Baker, the butler, Mrs. Hughes, the housekeeper, and the cook, Mrs. Clark.

Elizabeth, uncomfortable with her new position and the distance she would be forced to keep from the people who cleaned her room and prepared her food, smiled at them in what she hoped was a reassuring manner.

A timid young maid who said her name was Catherine showed her up to her bedroom, where Mary was waiting for her. The two friends ran into each other’s arms like they had been separated for two months instead of two days.

“Oh my God, Lizzie, I missed you so much!”

“I missed you, too,” Lizzie replied, on the verge of tears for some reason.

The anchor of familiarity that Mary represented at this sea of her new life was priceless, Elizabeth realised as she exhaled for what felt like the first time since her wedding.

“How was your trip?”

“I was done to a cow’s thumb,” Mary exclaimed as she sat down on a chair. “But I had a chance to sleep a bit before you got here, so I’m fine now. How was your trip?”

Lizzie blushed and looked away, and Mary grinned wickedly. “I see.”

“You don’t see anything,” Lizzie said defiantly and started pulling the pins from her hair.

“I see that your mouth looks really irritated, like someone’s stubble was scraping against it,” Mary teased.

Elizabeth’s hand flew up to her mouth as she ran to the looking glass.

“You liar!” she screamed as she laughed at herself.

Mary could hardly breathe from laughter.

“Oh, you young, blushing bride, it is too much fun to tease you,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “But seriously, are you alright?” she asked soberly after a minute. “Was it awful?”

“I’m alright, Mary. It was the opposite of awful,” Elizabeth admitted bravely, although her face burned.

“I’m glad.” Mary smiled.

“What do you think of Norwich?” Elizabeth redirected the conversation towards calmer waters.

“It’s magnificent. The staff were all very welcoming. I think you shall be very happy here.”

“Both of us, I hope,” Lizzie smiled at her oldest friend.

“I’ll let you freshen up now,” Mary said after she helped Lizzie out of her travelling dress. “I’ve laid out your clothes for dinner in the dressing room,” she said and motioned towards a half-open door, “and I’ll come up after dinner to help you get ready for bed.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

When Lizzie was alone in her room, she carefully examined and touched every single thing in it - the enormous and soft bed with its cloud-like pillows, the ornate plasterwork on the walls, the intricately carved fireplace, the escritoire and the chair next to it, as well as the two armchairs separated by a small table.

There were three doors inside her bedroom: the one through which she had entered led out into the hallway, the half-open one led to the dressing room that Mary had mentioned earlier, and the last one had to be connected to her husband’s bedroom.

The very idea of him being so close at night made her shiver in anticipation.

Is it customary for young brides to feel like this? she wondered. Or is there something in my blood that makes me this wanton?

Elizabeth closed her eyes against the idea. She didn’t want to think of that possibility. She just wanted to go to dinner and then be with her husband.

*

“Is everything in your room to your satisfaction?” Talbot asked as they were being served the main course.

“Yes, it's perfect, thank you,” Elizabeth replied shyly, realising that she should have mentioned it without being prompted. “Everything I’ve seen so far is beautiful.”

“I shall show you the entire manor tomorrow in daylight,” he promised. “And we shall tour the estate bit by bit while we’re here.”

“It already feels like daylight, with all the candles burning around this house,” Elizabeth reproached him gently.

“What would you have me do, wife? Strain my eyes unnecessarily?” He asked, looking amused by her observation.

Lizzie pursed her lips against a retort that would be inappropriate in front of the staff.

“I can’t wait to see everything,” she said, leaving the discussion of his excessive use of candles for another time. “What does your day usually look like when you’re here?”

“I rise earlier than in the city, because there are no balls or similar events to keep me up at night,” he looked at her as if to ascertain whether she was disappointed by that (she wasn’t), “and I usually tend to the affairs of my estate after breakfast, alone or with Brandon. Sometimes we work in my study, sometimes repairs or disputes call for our attendance elsewhere. The afternoons are spent at my leisure, depending on the season, which can entail hunting, shooting, and fishing. The nearest neighbouring estate is 50 miles away, so unless I have guests staying with me, I eat dinner alone or with the Brandons, and I then read in my library.”

Elizabeth was surprised at Talbot’s wholesome and relaxed country life but tried not to let it show.

“Has Mister Brandon been your bailiff for long?”

“He is my steward, not my bailiff,” Talbot corrected absentmindedly, while Lizzie chastised herself for her error.

“A bailiff merely collects rents, whereas a steward manages all aspects of an estate; he oversees the harvest, keeps records and accounts, logs and oversees repairs, hires workers, settles disputes, and the like. Brandon has been my steward ever since I inherited the title ten years ago, and he is exceptional at his job. He is efficient, organised, and very sharp. Not to mention, an excellent shot.”

“How did he come to be in your employ?”

“We met at Eton when we were both young boys. He is the second son of a landed gentleman, and he was studying for a career in law. I noticed that he had a head for numbers, and during our cricket matches, he demonstrated his scrupulous record-keeping skills many times over the years. He is also honest to a fault, which, again, has been proven time and time again.”

Elizabeth tried imagining the two men she observed earlier today as young boys, and in her mind, they were soon joined by a third boy, her brother, whom she did not wish to think about.

“I imagine he must be good at dealing with different people in order to do his job well,” Elizabeth mused.

“He is,” Talbot agreed, “he somehow has the right thing to say to everyone he meets.”

“It's interesting to me that you recognised all of these qualities and the potential in him when you were so young yourself.”

Talbot just stared at his wife for a few moments.

“I’ve always keenly observed others and noticed their strengths, as well as how those strengths could be of use to me,” he admitted. “I’ve hand-picked every member of my staff, and I’m not replacing any of them until they are no longer in this world.”

“What a dark thought,” Lizzie shook her head. “Let’s not discuss death tonight.”

“Very well, wife,” Talbot smiled at her uncharacteristic unease and only chose lighter topics for the rest of the evening.

After dinner, he excused himself to go sit in the library and wished her a good night.

Elizabeth went up to her room and got ready for bed with Mary’s help. She excitedly waited for her husband to join her, but he never did, even though she heard him enter his room next door. Alone and worried, she fell asleep sometime after midnight.

*

On her first morning at Norwich manor, the new Duchess was awakened by light.

The huge mullioned windows in her room made it impossible to sleep past sunrise, and she found herself not minding that at all.

After all, those very windows treated her to a breathtaking view of the sprawling, immaculately manicured gardens that surrounded her new home.

She looked at the blooming flower beds and the neatly trimmed hedges and once again marvelled at how different it all was from London.

Thank you, Lord, for creating all this beauty and letting me witness it and enjoy it.