The Fearless Miss Dinah by Laura Rollins
Chapter Ten
It had taken some time before Henry’s aunt had calmed down enough that they could all sit for dinner. Through the entire meal, hardly anyone had said a word since Aunt Beatrice had filled the room with her complaints and instructions for Dinah the entire time. Even now, as they sat in the drawing room, the elderly woman would not grant Dinah, or anyone, a bit of peace.
“Julia cannot be trusted with getting a stain out of a dress,” Aunt Beatrice said. “Leah is much better at that sort of thing, but she is terrible at polishing the silver.”
Dinah silently nodded, just as she had been all evening. Coming from someone else, the insights into how Angleside Court was run might have been helpful. But Aunt Beatrice somehow managed to make each sentence sound like she was condemning Dinah to utter failure. In her heart of hearts, the elderly woman probably did firmly believe Dinah would fail as mistress of such a grand estate. The Mulgrave family had been gossiped about enough in London that Aunt Beatrice was probably fully aware Dinah had never been raised to such a station as the one she now was in.
Still, the list of maids and manservants was beginning to feel never-ending, the condemnation coming from the woman’s eyes unrelenting. Dinah was quite certain she’d never remember half of what Aunt Beatrice was telling her.
“Now, as for the stablehands—”
Heaven help her.
“Lewis is the one to ask for if your horse is acting out of sorts. The man is quite a dab hand at figuring out what may be ailing a horse. However, when Henry’s gone for a hard ride, Neil is the one he always asks for as he is the most thorough at rubbing down the horse and seeing he is properly fed and rested from exertion. Your horse, though, won’t be tasked with anything as arduous as a bruising ride, so either Lewis or Jeffrey are fine to request.”
So many names. They were all blurring in Dinah’s mind. “I don’t have a horse,” was all she could get out amidst the barrage of servants, staff, and the constant list regarding who was best at what.
“What do you mean you don’t have a horse?” Aunt Beatrice looked personally offended that Dinah would say as such.
“I’ve never before had a need for my own horse as I could borrow Eliza’s mount, Starfire, anytime I pleased.” Or so her father had said so many times, Dinah repeated the words easily, as though they’d been her own. In truth, she’d longed for a horse of her own for ages. They’d never had the means to afford more than the two horses, Eliza’s and Father’s. Consequently, Dinah was regulated to only riding Starfire when Eliza wasn’t. Yet again, Dinah had been expected to accept someone else’s castoffs and be happy about it.
Aunt Beatrice pursed her lips as she leaned back atop the settee. “Any woman of standing should have her own horse. It is the only proper way.” She tsked. “A lady’s horse and ability to ride shows her good breeding and high standing among society.”
“I can ride,” Dinah said, trying and failing to keep most of the defensiveness out of her tone.
It wasn’t as though she couldn’t even be trusted with a horse. She simply didn’t have one she could call her own. And though she may have been raised with fewer niceties, with less frivolity than Aunt Beatrice seemed to think was necessary to prove one’s worth, Dinah was still quite confident in her own riding ability.
For the first time since Dinah had met the older woman, Aunt Beatrice fell silent. She was probably miffed to find Dinah less refined than she’d hoped. But just at the moment, Dinah couldn’t seem to care. If the woman had not wanted Henry to land himself in an arranged marriage, then she should have taught him that when a woman says she can see herself home alone, he should trust her and let her return home alone.
Speaking of the man, he was still scowling at her. Even with her back to him and he sitting with Mr. Thrup and Mr. Wilson across the room, Dinah could feel his glare pressing against her spine.
In the short reprieve from Aunt Beatrice’s constant instruction, Dinah suddenly became aware that her neck was aching, and dinner was not sitting well. Gracious, but she was exhausted. She’d not even realized how much until now. Dinah lifted a hand, pressed a few fingers against her temple, and closed her eyes. So much had happened that day. She’d gotten married, met her new family, been told by her husband that he would never love her. Never had she experienced such a full day.
Aunt Beatrice’s words came quietly and from nearer than before, though they were no less harsh. “If you wish to retire for the evening, you’ll have to give Henry a more obvious signal than that.”
Dinah opened a single eye. “Pardon me?”
“A woman does not get to be my age and not realize the coarser side of life,” Aunt Beatrice huffed, but blessedly still kept her voice soft enough as to not be overheard. “A man only agrees to marry a woman for one reason, truly.”
Dinah’s chest heated with an unexpected urge to stand up for Henry. “He agreed to marry me because he is a man of honor.”
Aunt Beatrice eyed her. “If you were not sitting there in your perfect gown, with perfectly set curls, and a perfectly young face, I might actually believe you.”
How dare she say such a thing about her own nephew, about Dinah.
It was too much.
Dinah stood abruptly. “If you will excuse me, I think I shall retire. And if Henry asks after me, if you would be so kind as to not say anything, that would be appreciated.”
Aunt Beatrice’s eyes went wide, and her mouth hung open at the insult. Dinah didn’t even bother to curtsy but turned on her heel and marched from the room. Though she never looked his way, she could feel Henry’s gaze on her as she left.
She moved into the corridor and hurried toward the stairs. Never had some time alone in her bedchamber sounded so enticing. Reaching the top of the stairs, Dinah turned toward the family wing, only to pause almost immediately.
Two beady eyes blinked in her direction.
Dinah’s stomach was instantly in her throat. Icy gooseflesh crept across her skin. Surely that wasn’t . . . it couldn’t be . . .
But her mind couldn’t seem to think clearly—her arms and legs unable to move.
It very well could be her imagination. This wouldn’t be the first she’d dreamed up a rat—the most vial and hideous creatures on earth—when in truth she was very likely just upset, and the corridor was dark. That’s all it was now, right?
Dinah forced her eyes shut, and then immediately opened them again.
Nothing. There was nothing about.
Dinah sighed in relief. It must have only been her nerves playing tricks on her, her frustration with Henry’s aunt conjuring in her mind the single thing she was most afraid of. Dinah placed a hand against the wall and breathed in deeply.
Soft voices floated down the corridor. Low, but not so low Dinah couldn’t hear.
“I know you want to believe she will be good for him,” a woman said.
The second voice was too deep to belong to anyone but a grown man. “I do believe being married will be good for Henry.”
That sounded like David. The woman was probably his wife, Emily, who’d missed dinner because of a headache.
And they were clearly talking about Dinah.
Did she make her presence known and pretend she hadn’t heard a word they’d said? Or simply retrace her steps and return downstairs? Dinah placed a hand over her stomach. She was still reeling from the imagined rat, and neither option sounded appealing.
“Then,” the woman continued, “if you are correct, I would assume Henry to have been quite affable at dinner tonight.”
David didn’t respond.
“Well? Was he?” Emily pressed.
“Actually,” David said slowly, “I’ve not seen Henry that angry in ages.”
Dinah slumped a bit against the wall. She didn’t know Henry well enough to tell for certain what was a normal amount of scowling for him, but that his own brother could not deny the many dark looks could not be a good thing.
Instead of turning haughty as Dinah half-expected, Emily’s voice when she next spoke was soft, even sad. “And you think he was angry at her? Whatever for?”
Dinah wondered the same thing. She peeked around the corner. Emily and David stood close to one another, no more than a few paces away.
“How should I know?” David replied, his head bent down. “You know how he gets. All silent and broody.”
“If he was in that state, then I’m glad I missed dinner.” Emily shook her head. “I must confess to feeling a bit sorry for his new wife. She will not be able to escape his moods so easily as you or I.”
“Do not be too quick to judge, my dear,” David said, his head coming up once more and his voice sounding hopeful. “It may be they both need some time adjusting, is all.”
Time—it’s what Charlotte had said as well.
Though Dinah was quickly losing hope that time alone would be enough to bridge the chasm between her and Henry.
David leaned in and gave his wife a kiss on the top of her head. “Come, my sweet, you don’t dislike it here all that much, surely.” His voice was soft, that special kind of soft which denoted a deep, abiding love. “Why, you tell me yourself quite frequently how much you enjoy my family. And I know you love being in Town, with all its many distractions and social functions.”
“I have come to adore the opera.”
“And we’re right in the middle of planning the ball for when your parents come to visit in a couple of months.”
“The dress I have ordered is divine.”
“You’ll look breathtaking, I’m sure.” David said something else, but his voice dropped so low, Dinah couldn’t make it out.
Emily’s response was a giggle.
Dinah pressed her lips firmly together to stop the smile that threatened to break free. It seemed Henry’s brother was in a very happy marriage. Stepping carefully, Dinah walked backward and toward the stairs yet again. She couldn’t make it to her bedchamber without walking directly past David and Emily, and right now, she wouldn’t disturb them for the world. Just because her own marriage was wholly platonic did not mean she was eager to go and ruin another’s. Indeed, seeing and hearing David and Emily and their obvious love for one another warmed Dinah’s heart.
But it also brought on a deep ache. That was the kind of marriage, the kind of life, she’d always envisioned for herself. While it was true she’d never thought she would be married to a man of the ton and she’d never envisioned she’d call such a grand house her home, she had believed that wherever she ended up, it would be a place of joy and love.
Wandering through different corridors—now seemed like as good a time as any to get to know the entire house—Dinah found a library, a music room, a parlor, and all the other rooms one expected in such a large and elegant home. All were dark, however. All were lifeless.
Had she not been that woman who turned her nose up every time she heard of an acquaintance who’d chosen money over affection? Yet, in a way, she’d done the same. In an effort to save her own name, she’d taken on the name of a man who was barely more than a stranger.
Dinah opened a door and peered inside. The room was dark, but a bit of moonlight slipped between the drawn curtains. The feel of this room was different than the others. Something about it called to Dinah and whispered she enter. The space was too dark to immediately identify its purpose. Glancing about to assure herself that no one was around, Dinah slipped into the room, shutting the door behind her. In the darkness, she slowly felt her way toward the window. The curtain was heavy, but she drew it back, allowing more starlight into the space. There was a desk to her left and bookshelves all along the walls to her right. This was an office, if she wasn’t mistaken.
And, no doubt, it was Henry’s.
She could nearly feel him in this room. His propensity to experience life fully seemed to permeate everything about her. He was here in the oversized wingbacks by the hearth. He was here in the dark wood and the deep blues. He was here in the thick curtains and the plush rug. Dinah moved toward the desk. Ink bottles and quills were lined up on one side, a few ledgers on the other. Though no one had come directly out and said as much at dinner, Dinah had been able to surmise that, for all Henry’s moods, as David had called them, he took the care of his family quite seriously.
More than the good food and elegant home he provided them all, Dinah had not missed that Mr. Thrup and Mr. Wilson had sought Henry out after dinner to speak with him. She’d not forgotten how Miles and Oliver swelled with pride at the thought that Henry had spoken of them to her. She’d noticed that Henry’s three nephews had not only taken their dinner with the family instead of in the nursery, but had done so in a manner that clearly denoted this was the norm for them, not the exception. Even David, who had just complained of his brother’s silent brooding, was also clearly concerned with Henry’s happiness. Aunt Beatrice, Dinah had yet to figure out, but part of her suspected that the elderly woman’s blunt conversation was more aimed to shock and scare Dinah than it truly was about her beliefs regarding Henry.
They all loved him because he saw to their needs. He was their friend and protector.
Knowing she’d married such a man did strange things to Dinah’s stomach.
Knowing that such a man was currently angry with her also did strange things inside her. Mostly, though, that bit of knowledge made her want to march back upstairs and demand they talk. She’d suspected Henry was upset with her, but hearing David voice the same concerns she’d had all dinner long only settled her resolve. She may not know much about being married, and she certainly didn’t know much about her new husband, but she did know that letting things fester would only lead to more trouble. Talking out any and all problems they had was the only way this relationship was going to work—platonic or otherwise.
Dinah left the office and hurried toward hers and Henry’s rooms. With any luck, David and Emily’s personal conversation would have come to an end and the corridor would be empty. Either way, she needed to speak with Henry before he retired for the night.