Page 12 of An Accidental Bride for the Duke
Last evening, her husband came to her and apologized. In a moment of pure surprise, he had made it appear as if he regretted what had occurred and was determined to try and make the most of this most unexpected situation. And dammit, Iris had believed him.
What she now understood was that Philip did not care so much for her as he did for peace and harmony. He might have wished for them not to fight, but in that he clearly preferred if they did not talk at all. A most peaceful marriage it would be so long as he was able to pretend that she did not exist.
And so it was that the precedent was set and Iris, not willing to see her husband rise to anger once again, could do nothing but play along.
They spent the remainder of the day in silence. The two of them, together in the small carriage, inches apart, and not a single word was spoken. Worse than that, Philip seemed determined to not so much as look in Iris’ direction. The entire trip was spent by her husband staring out the window, his body turned away from her. She was happy to watch him, wanting him to see her out the corner of his eyes scowling. But it did little good.
Those hours were spent in a state of slow unravelling. Any vague hope that Iris had clung to, the dimness of possibility that her life wasn’t over completely fading into the darkness. By the time they reached Iris’ new home she decided that her husband wasexactly the man she had first suspected. And this was in no way a good thing.
“Is that…” Iris began, breaking the silence by accident when her new home appeared on the horizon. The sun was just beginning to set, perhaps an hour of daylight left, and her heart began to beat quickly with trepidation and fear because the sight of her new home felt like a nail in the coffin.
As if there was a chance this might not be real, now there can be no doubt.
“Crayford Estate.” It was the first thing that Philip had said all day… it was also the last.
Crayford Estate was a modest dwelling, at least when considering who it was that lived there. By no means a manor of grotesque proportions like Iris was used to, it was large but also homely, possibly even cozy. Sitting on vast acres of farmland, two stories but squat rather than sprawling, it was made of two large wings clinging to a rotunda-shaped center.
There was no gate around the property either, merely a long driveway which wound gently through the farms and toward the front door. No lavish garden either. The door wasn’t bracketed by columns. There were no stairs leading up to it. A most modest dwelling indeed.
What on earth is the duke doing living in a place like this?Iris studied the duke once more, wondering as she had so often thesepast two days who this man was that she had married… and if she would ever find out.
As the carriage approached the front door, the household staff were quick to exit and line themselves up for the duke’s arrival. There were ten of them in total, a relatively small number. Once the carriage stopped, Philip exited and made his way toward them, leaving Iris to climb down from the carriage on her own.
She approached cautiously, noting the oldest of the staff members whom Philip spoke with personally. This, she learned, was the Head of Staff, Mr. Tibbitt.
“If you need anything at all, Mr. Tibbitt will be happy to help.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace.” Mr. Tibbitt was short and stocky, completely bald, with bushy white eyebrows that touched just above his nose. But he had a kind face and a kinder smile and for that, Iris was grateful.
“It is lovely to meet you,” she told him. “I take it that you are who I ask concerning a bath?” she laughed softly. “Two days on the road and…” She trailed off when she looked up to find the duke already gone.
“A bath, of course, Your Grace,” Mr. Tibbitt said. “I will have one drawn at once. And might I enquire about your eating habits? I will happily have the kitchen staff prepare whatever you desire. A favorite meal, perhaps?”
She wasn’t listening.
Her eyes were for the front doorway, just now swinging closed behind her husband who had fled inside as if he was leaving a crime scene. He did not bother checking if she had everything. He did not waste time pretending that he cared how she was feeling about her new home. For all intents and purposes, she did not exist.
Typically, the rest of the evening played out in predictably morose circumstances.
Iris bathed once she was led inside, a welcome distraction, but it did little to heal the internal wounds of sorrow that were creeping up. She then ate alone, sitting at the large dining table, wondering if her husband might appear suddenly, unsurprised that he did not bother. It was to her room next; her things had been sent for, sure to arrive in a day or two, leaving her with the basics to wear for sleeping, and not much else.
She had no books to read. No entertainment to help pass the time. And nobody to talk to. So, with nothing else for it, she went to bed early, not tired at all, but unable to think of how else she might spend the time.
This is my life… and it will be much the same from now until forever.
Not getting her happily ever after was one thing. But this? An ending that was not just loneliness but as depressing acircumstance as she might imagine? It was more than she could bear.
For that reason, despite her best efforts, as Iris drifted off to sleep on that first night, she allowed the tears to flow freely. Overwhelmed. As lonely as she had ever been. And terrified of what was to come.
Iris woke the following morning determined not to let the same depressed mood that had nearly destroyed her last night do the same to her again today. She had been rightly upset. Angry at her situation. But crying would not change that.
Perhaps things will not be as awful as I thought. Maybe if I try and make the best of this… good might come.
It was just on sunrise when she opened her eyes. And although she wanted to lie in bed and try for a few more hours, she knew at the same time that sleep would not come.
She was slow in getting ready, but it was still early when she arrived at the breakfast room to eat. A small part of her had wondered if maybe her husband would be there, or if he would join her. Surely, he heard that she was awake? And surely, he needed to eat? Apparently not.
Iris ate on her own that morning. And all the while, she continued in her feigned positively, not wanting to let the grim reality of her new life get to her.
