“I think I would like to live with you,” Dorothea said eventually. “It would be unseemly for a wife not to live with her husband, do you think?”
Rowden could not help the small pulse of happiness in his chest, but it was gone as soon as it came. He was fulfilling a promise—nothing more. Dorothea did not want him anymore than he wanted her. “That would be fine.”
Chapter 4
Acclimatization
Dorothea was pleasantly surprised with Rowden.
He was not the most attentive of husbands and he often left her to her own devices much of the day, but she was happy enough in his home. It was as modest as she had expected, slightly larger than the one she had shared with George, and sparsely decorated. If she had been a casual observer rather than part of the home, she may have assumed nobody really lived within it. Rather, it was a part-time residence.
Though there was nothing wrong with Rowden’s house itself, Dorothea still found herself reluctant to change things, or to move any belongings without Rowden’s prior approval. He often told her that she was allowed to do such things, to treat the house as her home, but it was difficult. She was not comfortable, but she dared say nothing to Rowden lest he think her ungrateful.
She was pondering on the best thing to cook for dinner one evening when Rowden came into the room, frowning down at a letter he was holding in his hands.
“Rowden?” Dorothea leaned against one of the chairs. “Is everything alright?”
There was a moment before Rowden looked up, but when he did, his brow was furrowed into a frown. “I have received a letter from my cousin.”
“Oh?” Dorothea had known Rowden had a cousin—he had informed her one would not be coming to the wedding—but she knew little about him. Rowden was reluctant to pass on any information about his family and though she understood his reluctance, it still hurt to know he did not yet trust her with that information.
“He passed away the night before last.” There was no emotion in Rowden’s voice, but Dorothea did not know if that was because he felt no emotion, or if he was choosing not to show it in front of her. It galled that she did not know which.
Dorothea wanted to approach, but she curled her hands around the chair in front of her and gave him a sympathetic look. “You have my condolences. Were you close?”
“Not particularly,” Rowden said dismissively. “However, there is a factor that will impact us greatly.”
Heart skipping a little, Dorothea’s throat tightened slightly, and she swallowed past the lump in his throat. Thankfully she did not have to wait long for an answer. In lieu of speaking, Rowden handed her the letter which she took with a hand that was so obviously shaking. There was still no discernible expression on Rowden’s face and Dorothea read over the letter quickly and then, upon realizing its contents, read it again.
As she pressed the letter to the chair, almost crumpling it, she stared at Rowden in shock. “You are to be an earl.”
“Indeed,” Rowden said, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “It seems I have inherited a title and an estate.”
There was a small bubble of happiness bursting in Dorothea’s chest, drowning out the apprehension and fear of change. Every young girl dreamed of being swept off her feet by a duke or an earl, and she had been no exception. It had been wishful thinking at seven, but even more so after her accident. Perhaps she wasn’t getting there the way she had always envisioned, but she was a married woman and was about to become a lady.
Lady Dorothea Rowden.
It was certainly not an unfavorable outcome. When she looked up at her husband once more, he was not smiling. He was frowning down at the paper she was crumpling, and she immediately smoothed it out, looking apprehensive.
“My apologies.”
Rowden startled, meeting her gaze and then waving of her off with a hand. “It is no matter to me the state of the letter. It is the contents that leave me with a bad taste.”
Dorothea ran her fingers over the letter. “You do not wish to be an earl?”
“I have never wished to be anything other than that which I am.” It was a profound statement and Dorothea couldn’t help her pity at the expression on Rowden’s face. Perhaps wishing for something more was not everyone’s dream. “Can you not refuse?”
Rowden looked at her as if he was seeing her for the first time. His lips quirked up, and she was surprised at the smile though it was gone almost as soon as it had arrived. “It is a long and complicated process. I do not wish this for myself but though we were not close, Jacob has other family members he could leave the earldom to. The fact that he chose me means something.”
“Of course.” Dorothea stared back into the kitchen, at the dinner she was currently cooking. “Perhaps a decision does not have to be made right now. Dinner is almost ready, and I think you could use a distraction.”
There was something about Rowden’s expression that she couldn’t put her finger on, but he acquiesced with a nod of his head. “It is not as if we must travel to Durham immediately.”
Durham.
Dorothea turned away from Rowden and disappeared into the kitchen, in part to check on the dinner, but also to collect herself. She had moved in with Rowden and now the two of them were set to move again. She had no doubt that it would be smooth—things usually were within society—but it was another upheaval for which Dorothea was not prepared.
Thankfully, Rowden seemed just as disconcerted about the move as she. He was a soldier, she thought as she served dinner, he should have been used to moving and uprooting his life regularly. Though a home was never supposed to change so much.
“I will of course,” Dorothea started, as she slipped into her seat, unable to meet Rowden’s eyes, “support whatever decision you choose to make.”
Rowden was silent for a long moment, and she could feel his gaze on her face, but she was startled by the kindness in his voice when he said, “Thank you.”
When she lifted her head to meet his eyes, he was smiling once again. Small and uncertain, but definitely a smile.
Chapter 5
Society
Rowden was not pleased with the new development.
Having to uproot his life and move everything he owned to Durham was already a complication he did not need, but the closer they arrived to having to leave his house, the quieter Dorothea was becoming. She had never particularly been a verbose person but there were subtle differences in her countenance that he couldn’t help but notice.
“Are you not happy to be moving to Durham?”
Dorothea was currently reading in the library. Rowden’s library was not particularly extensive, but it was enough for one person. Dorothea could often be found in the armchair when she was not taking care of affairs around the house.
Startled, Dorothea almost let her book slide from her lap. She caught it in time, cradling it in her hands and pressing her lips into a thin line. “I am not unhappy,” she told him seriously, and he believed her. “It is an upheaval that I find I am not prepared for.”
It was a fair point to make and Rowden inclined his head, hands clasped at the base of his spine. “If you do not wish to leave–”
“That is not the case,” Dorothea said immediately. She flushed, looking down at her knees. “Forgive the interruption. I will go wherever it is you need to go. I am just concerned that I will not be what society is expecting.”
It was a fair point. Rowden himself was uncomfortable with the thought of having to involve himself in society. It had never been something he aspired to, never been something he had ever had to teach himself. It would be a culture shock for them both and though he wasn’t particularly attuned to Dorothea’s moods—she had her own life after all—it still made him apprehensive to think that she had reservations. He had promised George that he would care for her, not thrust her into a life she did not appreciate.
“I find that I do not care to conform to society’s standards,” Rowden said.
Dorothea smiled, so h
e had the feeling that she heard what he was saying and appreciated it, but there was still an air about her that he could not place.
There was not much time for either of them to adjust to their situation before they were on the journey to Durham. The horse and carriage that arrived for them was decadent and out of place in the small town. Rowden had never liked to be the center of attention, and he was uncomfortable with the looks and whispers as he helped Dorothea into the carriage.
A few of those whispers were for her, he noticed, and though she had not lived long with him, it was hard not to know what the whispers were about. From the way Dorothea shrunk back into the safety of the carriage, her eyes dropping almost immediately to the floor, he could tell she was aware of it herself.
“We will be rid of here soon,” he said firmly, hoping to reassure her.
There was the briefest of smiles on Dorothea’s face before her hands curled into fists and she allowed herself to look out of the window of the carriage as they were swept out of the city and onto the road to Durham.
The country often reminded Rowden too much of his time fighting, and his injury always gave a twinge of sympathy. It was an inconvenience, but one that seemed to increase the closer they came to the estate. It was a sprawling house jutting above the horizon and Rowden did not know what he was to do with such a place. It seemed uneconomical to have such a big place when it was just Dorothea and himself. Jacob had never married, of course, but he had many friends and acquaintances, most of whom seemed to be staying at Durham Estate more often than they were at home.
Neither he nor Dorothea had friends enough to fill the house—indeed, they did not have many friends at all—and though there was a generous staff, Rowden did not know why it would be so big. Dorothea was never going to bear children and though he felt a brief pang at that, he had never wanted children but sometimes it was a necessity, he shrugged it off just as quickly.
Dorothea was no doubt going to be reminded of that herself soon enough and he was kind enough, and had heard enough from George, to be tactful and not mention it.
There were a couple of men waiting on the steps of the estate when the carriage came to a stop. The younger of the two stepped forward to open the door, holding it for them to get out. Rowden carefully climbed down, ignoring the ache in his leg and holding out a hand for Dorothea. She was slow in coming out, apprehension on her face, but she had a tight grip on his hand as she stepped down.
“This is vast,” she whispered, still holding on to Rowden’s hand. He thought briefly about letting go, but Dorothea seemed awed and apprehensive. It was not a hardship to keep holding her hand, and he was content to do so.
“My Lord,” the elder of the two men said, bowing respectfully. He gave Dorothea just as respectful a greeting. “My Lady. My name is Lewis Granger and I am the household butler.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Granger,” Dorothea said immediately, and gave Granger a small smile.
Startled by the polite address, Granger raised his eyebrows, but he was smiling gently as he returned her greeting. “May I introduce you both to the staff and the house?”
“That would be helpful,” Rowden said, and stared at Dorothea when she squeezed his hand. “Thank you,” he added, almost as an afterthought. Dorothea smiled, and even Granger seemed politely impressed with the thanks.
As Granger and the footman led the way, propriety gave way to Rowden’s irritation about this whole situation and he looped Dorothea’s hand through his arm. “Is there a reason you are so keen for me to address them politely?”
“If it were me,” Dorothea said, staring at their linked arms with quiet happiness, “I would want to be treated with respect. Besides, they are to be as much our guides in this world as staff, are they not?”
Rowden had to concede the point.
Dorothea was staring around them as they climbed the steps towards the main doors. It had a beautiful façade with thick white columns adorned with flora. It was not something that Rowden would have chosen for himself, but Dorothea seemed enamored with it.
“Do you like it?”
“It’s intimidating,” Dorothea said immediately, but her smile was soft. “But definitely beautiful.”
Something about the way she spoke, about the way she clung to his arm as they walked through the entrance hall, had Rowden’s throat dry and his chest tight. He pushed it aside, not sure where the thoughts had come from, but kept a hold of Dorothea’s arm as they continued their tour.
Chapter 6
A New Life
“My Lady?”
Dorothea looked up from her dressing table to see the young maid, Greta, standing in the doorway. She was Dorothea’s personal maid, something it was still taking Dorothea a while to come to terms with, and though she was young, she was attentive and kind.
“Come in, Greta.”
“I apologize for being late.” Greta kept her head bowed as she approached, taking the brush that Dorothea offered her.
Dorothea smiled, catching Greta’s eyes in the mirror. “It is of no consequence. I am still getting used to having a maid.”
A quick expression of surprise crossed Greta’s face until she seemed to remember herself.
“Say what you wish,” Dorothea prompted. “You will find I am less inclined to propriety than others.”
Greta didn’t say anything for a long time, just started to brush her hair slowly, tagging care with knots. Dorothea was still unused to having someone be here to help her dress and sort her appearance. Greta was attentive and careful. “You were not born into society?”
Dorothea resisted the urge to shake her head, not wanting Greta to catch her hair. “No. I am afraid that marriage and gentry are all new to me. It is definitely difficult to become accustomed to.”
The smile on Greta’s face was small but genuine and Dorothea mirrored it in kind. They lapsed into another silence, this one comfortable, and by the time Dorothea was dressed and ready to go down for breakfast, Greta had loosened up enough to chat amiably about her family.
“Thank you, Greta,” Dorothea said, smoothing down her skirts. Even the clothes were a vast difference to everything Dorothea had before. “Do you know if my husband will appear for breakfast?”
Greta’s face shifted into apologetic. “I do not think so, my Lady. There were lawyers arriving this morning to finalize the new estate paperwork and to introduce him to the interim estate manager.”
Dorothea had no idea what that meant though she suspected Rowden would now have to take over the estate in full and she wondered what that would mean for them. “Thank you. I think I will require you after lunch but that is all for this morning.”
Bowing again before she darted out of the room, Greta disappeared out the door, and Dorothea took a deep breath. It had been foolish, perhaps, to expect Rowden to be around on their first day in the new estate. They were not sharing a room, Rowden had offered her one of her own and she had accepted more out of surprise than out of any desire to be alone.
Dorothea had been alone for far too long.
The house seemed eerie and silent around her, for all the staff that she knew were working behind the scenes. She had met only a fraction and though she would never know all of their names, they weren’t enough to cover all the rooms.
This was the kind of estate where families raised children, and Dorothea pressed a hand to her stomach unconsciously. It seemed as if she had been thinking about her condition more often as of late when it had been so long since the last time she’d done so. It was a situation out of her control but that didn’t stop it hurting.
When she arrived in the dining room, there was already a maid waiting at the door. She curtseyed quickly and then darted through the door, presumably to call for breakfast. Dorothea smoothed down her skirts, feeling awkward in the empty room. Everything felt too large and overwhelming and while panic settled uncomfortably on her breast, she tried to ignore it.
Breakfast came out with a couple of the maids and
though it all felt too quiet, Dorothea tried to eat as if she were in her own home. It was difficult given her surroundings, but if she imagined herself in the old cottage kitchen, she could almost believe it to be true.
Unfortunately, reality hit quickly, and she was broken out of her memory by the shutting of the dining-room door. Granger inclined his head as he approached the table.
“Lord Durham wishes to inform you that he will not be around until dinner.” Granger looked a little apologetic. “I hope this is acceptable.”
Dorothea nodded quickly. She did not have a choice either way but that was not Granger’s fault. “Thank you for informing me. I think I will take to exploring the areas of the house I didn’t get to experience last night.”
“Very good, my Lady,” Granger said.
As soon as she was done with breakfast, Dorothea retreated to the sitting room first. It was a lavish affair, unsurprising given the state of the house, but homely. There was a small fireplace set into one wall and Dorothea could see herself enjoying it on occasion. Passing through the sitting room, she entered the library.
Though she had enjoyed Rowden’s library, this was a much larger library with books she had never read. Sucking in a breath, her hands trembled as she ran her fingers lightly over the spines. There were so many here that she would never tire of reading. So much knowledge to be gleaned and given the affairs of an estate, she supposed she would be on her own much of the time.
She pulled one of the books from the shelf, what looked like an old journal, and sat on one of the couches. She settled in amongst the cushions, opening the front cover, startled to realize that it was empty. She turned some other pages, finding the rest as blank as the first page. It was a surprise to find a blank journal but perhaps nobody would mind if she used it for herself.
Though it was hard to accept at times, she was Lady Durham and thus had a claim on things in the house. Perhaps not as much of a claim as Rowden, but it was enough to satisfy her. One journal would not go amiss. She called for one of the maids while she chose another book from the shelf, a geographical study of the island, and Dorothea opened it gently, the smell and the creak of the book indicating it's hardly used quality.
Regency Romances for the Ages Page 7