Page 57 of His Illegitimate Duchess

"She just..." Catherine said, looked up as if searching for the right words, and then shrugged. "Closes her heart."

“I will talk to Hawkins as soon as I get the chance,” he said, and Miss Williams nodded gratefully.

“Thank you.”

Talbot considered her again. She didn’t seem like one of those worldly mistresses who entered into arrangements , nor was she an actress who had become a kept woman.

She truly looked every bit a country gentleman’s young, naive daughter who had been seduced and, when she found herself with child, was (most likely reluctantly) kept as a mistress for the rest of the late Duke’s life.

Before he could say anything else, Lizzie came back in. She sat down at the small escritoire in the corner of the room, scribbled a note in a hurry, threw sand on it, and handed it to her mother.

“Please have Robert deliver this, and send my new calling cards to Louisa, Elinor, and Isabella to let them know I’ve returned.”

“I will,” Miss Williams nodded. “Are you certain you do not wish to partake in some refreshments?”

“We have to go, Ma, I will see you soon, all right?”

*

It had never crossed Elizabeth’s mind to inquire where her new husband lived during the three months since their wedding, so she decided to do so now, on the carriage ride there.

“Where is your residence?”

Colin’s smile told her that he most likely realised the same thing just now.

“St. James’s Square,” he said with a pointed look, probably expecting her to be impressed.

When she didn’t say anything, he added, “Although I’ve considered moving for a while now. The area isn’t what it used to be.”

Lizzie nodded thoughtfully. When the carriage stopped very soon after that, Elizabeth looked up at the large three-storey townhouse.

So many windows, she thought. And so large.

She imagined all the light in the mornings and already liked the idea of waking up here.

“Welcome home, Your Graces,” a footman in formal livery bowed to both of them, and Colin introduced him as Roberts.

The housekeeper was a kind-looking older woman named Mrs. White, and the butler was a Mr. White. Lizzie narrowed her eyes at Colin, remembering his comments about her maid being married, but said nothing, oddly happy that the married couple had the opportunity to work together.

“It’s wonderful to meet all of you,” she smiled at the assembled staff, “and to see you again,” she added to Mrs. Clark.

“Martha will show you to your room,” Talbot indicated one of the maids, “and I can give you a tour of the house before dinner.”

“That sounds perfect, thank you,” Elizabeth said shyly, not liking all the eyes on them.

Martha led her up the twin-curved staircase, and Lizzie held on to the solid oak handrails to steady herself as she took in her surroundings.

They passed so many doors that Lizzie began to fear she might get lost on her way to dinner afterwards.

Luckily, when they entered the dressing room that would be hers from now on, Mary was already there.

“Thank you, Martha.”

The quiet woman nodded her head and left.

“Hello, Duchess,” Mary said with an impish grin, and Lizzie laughed. “Can you believe this house?”

“It’s like something out of one of Jane’s stories. But I must confess, I’m somewhat sad to be back in the city, is that silly?”

“Not at all.” Mary shook her head. “I’ve grown quite fond of Norwich myself. Have you had a chance to see other parts of the house?”

“Not yet. Colin promised to show me before dinner. You?”

“Mrs. White showed us most of it. A lot of it is very modern.”

“What did you think of her?”

“She seemed very friendly and open, kind. All the staff did, really.”

“I’m so glad,” Lizzie exhaled in relief.

Almost two hours before dinner, Lizzie knocked on the door of her husband’s study. When she entered, she was amused to find that it was almost exactly the same as his study in Norwich.

What a peculiar man, she thought, remembering that his cook had travelled with him from house to house as well.

“Ah, Elizabeth, do come in,” the peculiar man in question said as he got up from his desk, looking like he’d been working since they’d arrived.

His valet was standing behind him like a statue.

“I was just asking Stevenson to show you the kitchens and pantry while I finish some letters, and then I shall join you for the rest of the tour, if that is all right with you?”

“Of course,” Lizzie hastened to assure him. “We can also postpone it if you’re too busy.”

“Not necessary, I shall be done very soon, I promise. Besides, I couldn’t tell you much about the kitchens. I have the feeling that Mrs. White and Mrs. Clark are already eagerly waiting downstairs to show you everything.”

“Very well,” Lizzie said with a small smile at Stevenson. “Shall we?”

“Not the pipes, Stevenson, I want to show her that,” Talbot added absent-mindedly as he sat back down, already reaching for the silver inkstand on his desk.

Stevenson merely nodded as he escorted her out of the study. Elizabeth suddenly worried what the tour would be like, since she’d never spent any time alone with the man, and he seemed terribly reserved.

“This manor was not inherited,” Stevenson started speaking without preamble.

“His Grace purchased it from the family of a school friend soon after inheriting the title. The only thing he insisted on was that it be completely empty when they left town, so that he could arrange everything to his particular taste.”

Elizabeth looked around, only now noticing the subtle differences between the Norwich interiors and this house.

“So this is entirely His Grace’s doing?”

“Every piece of furniture has been selected by him personally, Madam. Down to the pipes.”

Elizabeth thought about the tastefully decorated dressing room she had spent the afternoon in and couldn’t imagine Colin as the one behind it.

It had to have been Mrs. White... Or am I wrong? She wondered.

“What kind of pipes was he talking about?”

“His Grace is very proud of the system of water and drainage pipes he's had built into various parts of this household to facilitate its functioning.”

Lizzie frowned.

“What do the pipes do?”

“I shall let His Grace explain that, you’ve heard how insistent he sounded,” Stevenson said with a serious face, but it seemed to Lizzie like he was affectionately joking about his master.

They talked for the better part of the hour about the fine details on fireplaces, the intricate moulding on the ceilings, the symmetry of certain furniture arrangements, as well as their opinion on colour.

“But pastels are so plain, ” Elizabeth said earnestly.

“I hope Madam will forgive me for disagreeing, but a drawing room is not meant to scream at a visitor. It is supposed to be serene and peaceful, and I think that colours such as green and white and pale blue are very good at that.”

“Perhaps we can agree on a few details in bolder colours?”

“Madam, this is your home. We don’t have to agree on anything. Put as many purple items in it as you wish,” Stevenson said kindly.

“But we all live here,” Elizabeth said, suddenly uncomfortable. “I would like everyone to consider it beautiful.”

Stevenson didn’t succeed in hiding his smile this time. “I’m certain none of the staff will have problems with any of the changes you make.”

Lizzie smiled back gratefully. “Good.”

*

“And as you can see,” Stevenson said as they finished up in the large dining room, “there is space for entertaining all the guests your heart desires.”

“I don’t think there will be much need for that,” Elizabeth replied without thinking, then immediately regretted it. “How do you feel about being back in London?”

“Norwich is home,” he shrugged without acknowledging her earlier comment, which she was deeply grateful for.

“The Duke told me you two grew up together,” she said conversationally.

The valet nodded. “I grew up in Norwich, and when I returned from the war, I started working for His Grace.”

Lizzie frowned. “The war ended only five years ago. You two seem like you have worked together for decades.”

Stevenson smiled in a way she couldn’t interpret. “In a way, we have. His Grace is very loyal to those loyal to him,” he concluded.

Once again, Elizabeth was struck by how her husband had hand-picked everyone and everything in his life, and how all those individual pieces fit perfectly into the larger picture of Colin's life.

“He really has an eye for people, doesn’t he?” She smiled.

“Who does?” Her husband asked as he approached them with long strides. “Thank you, Stevenson, I shall take over now.”

The valet nodded and, with a bow to Lizzie, left. She found it interesting how he seemed to portion out his words only when absolutely necessary.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” She teased her husband. “All done with your letters?”

He ran his hand through his hair tiredly. “Finally, yes. They want to hold the vote on the anniversary of Princess Charlotte’s death. It’s utterly distasteful, but I fear they might get their way.”

“That poor woman,” Lizzie said compassionately.

“Let us not talk more of that now. What has Stevenson shown you so far?”

As they walked and talked, and her husband told her more about the rainwater collection system and the pipes and the water closets he was so inordinately proud of, Elizabeth’s mind kept going back to her husband’s hiring methods.

She realised that she had never learned any practical things about her brother’s life or their ancestral estate, nor did she know how the people working for Nicholas came to be in his employ.

I don’t know many things about Nicholas, she thought bitterly, because we never spent much time together, nor did he put any effort into getting to know me.

And there it was, the cold, hard truth.

He did provide me with a house and a dowry, she told herself quickly, hating the idea of being ungrateful. But I could have done with a little less money and a little more brother.