Page 38 of Six Nights to Marry a Marquess

“Thank you, Mrs. Davis.” He turned to Agnes with a stiff smile. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Lady Gillingham.”

Her new title sounded odd to her ears, but she quickly dismissed the thought and offered the housekeeper a smile, inclining her head gracefully as the woman curtsied.

“It’s a pleasure, My Lady,” she said. Despite the polite words, Agnes couldn’t help the feeling that the warmth she had initially observed in Mrs. Davis’s eyes had cooled considerably upon their introduction.

“Come,” Theodore said, taking her hand and leading her up the steps and into a spacious vestibule.

Agnes noted its emptiness with a sense of foreboding. Two chairs in front of the large fireplace, and a lone table that stood against the opposite wall were the only furnishings in the place. She had anticipated a welcome from several servants, yet they were greeted only by the housekeeper.

“You will find all the guidance you need in Mrs. Davis,” Theodore said. “I must leave you now to attend to some estate matters that cannot be delayed.”

“Of course,” she murmured.

As she watched his retreating form, a lump formed in her throat, her heart constricting with a sense of abandonment she hadn’t anticipated. She had married him, not Mrs. Davis, and yet, here she was, feeling left behind before their new life had even begun.

“This way, My Lady,” Mrs. Davis’s voice, devoid of warmth, pulled Agnes from her reverie.

Silently, Agnes trailed behind the housekeeper, her footsteps echoing through the vast hallways of the estate. They ascended the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last.

“The Marchioness’s bedchambers,” announced Mrs. Davis, pushing open a large mahogany door to reveal the room intended for Agnes. Stepping inside, Agnes noted the meticulous arrangement of the furnishings and soft tones of rose and cream.

“I have prepared everything to ensure comfort. I hope it meets Her Ladyship’s approval,” Mrs. Davis stated, a hint of pride in her otherwise flat voice suggesting a personal hand in the room’s preparation. This detail piqued Agnes’s curiosity.

“Over here is the dressing room. And that door there leads to the Marquess’s chambers,” the housekeeper continued.

“Should you require anything at all, you can always ring for me,” Mrs. Davis concluded.

“Thank you, Mrs. Davis.” Agnes walked to a window that overlooked the gardens as the housekeeper took her leave. Thegrounds were neat, but there were only green hedges and no flowers.

Perhaps I could occupy myself by introducing colors to the garden. I should do it.

Agnes turned to the door the housekeeper had mentioned led to Theodore’s chambers. Slowly, she approached it, and opening the door, she stepped into a large bedchamber, decorated in tones of deep blue and mahogany.

What am I doing here? She retreated quickly and shut the door. Then, after a moment’s thought, she turned the key in the lock. The door would have no use in their life, after all.

With some time to spare before dinner, Agnes decided to familiarize herself further with the place that was now her home. The mansion was undeniably elegant, yet she couldn’t overlook the signs of neglect. As she trailed her fingers over the fabric of a drape, the frayed threads suggested a lack of attention, unlike the meticulous upkeep of her family’s estate in Cornwall.

This observation led her to ponder the absence of life within these walls, and the pervasive silence added to the growing sense of isolation she felt… Eerily so.

The knowledge that his sisters remained in London, with plans to join them shortly, offered little comfort. Their delayed arrival seemed unnecessary, particularly under the pretense of affording the newlyweds privacy for a honeymoon that was anything but.

Wandering through the silent halls, Agnes felt an emerging sense of responsibility. The notion that she was to breathe life into these halls was daunting. As she moved through the manor, taking note of its beauty and its shortcomings alike, Agnes resolved to make the best of her circumstances.

She found a door at the end of one of the halls and opened it, stepping into a large library that was surprisingly well stocked. For the first time, a small genuine smile touched her lips.

“Would you care for some tea, My Lady?” Mrs. Davis materialized seemingly out of nowhere, her presence startling Agnes as she was reaching for a book from one of the top shelves.

Caught off guard by the silent approach of the housekeeper, Agnes couldn’t help but liken her to a wraith. “You appear somewhat agitated, My Lady. Might I suggest something to soothe your nerves?” Mrs. Davis proposed, her tone both gentle and probing.

Agnes, interpreting this as a subtle hint to settle down, gratefully accepted the offer, if only to have a momentary diversion. “Yes, please.”

The housekeeper herself returned with the tea, reinforcing the peculiar absence of other servants. “Is the Marquess...” Agnes attempted to inquire about Theodore’s whereabouts.

“Engaged in his study, yes,” Mrs. Davis cut in smoothly. “Is there anything else you require, My Lady?” she inquired, her demeanor impeccable yet somehow imposing.

“No, thank you,” Agnes replied, her response more timidly than intended. There was an intangible air about Mrs. Davis that Agnes found disconcerting, a feeling of constraint that lingered long after the housekeeper had departed.

Resigned to her solitude, Agnes sipped her tea alone, the silence of the mansion her only companion as the afternoon waned into evening. It was the distant sound of voices and movement that eventually broke through her reverie, sparking a glimmer of anticipation for the arrival of fresh company.

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