Page 53 of The Phantom Duke
Damien looked from one to the other silently. Maria looked down at Gilbert and nodded. Gilbert took a deep breath, his eyes darting anxiously to Damien’s face.
“Thank you, Your Grace, for saving the orphanage. All the boys and girls…” he hesitated, trying to remember the lines he and Maria had practiced in the carriage.
“Will sleep soundly…” Maria gently prompted.
Gilbert nodded. “Will sleep soundly knowing that their home is safe.”
“And thank you from me,” Maria said, clasping her hands before her. “It is a matter that is closer to my heart than anything. I did not expect it.”
“You expected only cruelty?” His voice was flat, revealing nothing.
“I…” she trailed off, uncertain what to say. Something like indignation burned inside her.
Perhaps, she had not anticipated cruelty, not exactly, but certainly notkindness.Maria might have anticipated some tender feelings if her husband had been at least a little forthcoming.
“Not cruelty,” she said. “Just not that you would care as I do.”
“You judge me.”
“I try not to. You do not make it easy.”
“I suppose I do not. I will think on it… Farewell, good knight,” Damien said, addressing Gilbert and bowing.
Gilbert bowed in return, and Maria caught the twitch of Damien’s lips before he turned away. Her spirits lifted a little, for the encounter seemed as though it had gone well. That was more than she had dared hope for! It seemed as if even the stern Damien could not resist the charms of a small child.
The rest of the day was bliss for Maria. She showed her wandering charge around the house, marveling at his awe at the smallest of details. Of course, he had no experience of a true home, much less one of such grandeur, only the austere conditions of the orphanage.
To have a bedroom to himself seemed to be a decadent luxury. To have a room of his very own left him dumbstruck for a moment, and Maria’s chest ached. Despite the encouraging encounter with Damien, her husband had not yet agreed to allow Gilbert to live with them.
Then Gilbert could not stop talking about all the things he would like to have in this room of his very own. Maria told herself thatshe would simply have to persuade Damien to agree. If he truly wished for her to believe that he was not cruel, he would.
They explored the gardens, avoiding the woods, which Maria convinced Gilbert was home to bears and wolves. They would need to address the lethal nature of the woods before Gilbert came to stay.
As he got older and more intrepid, he would inevitably want to explore further afield, and Maria had to concede that the image of herself wandering through the forests with the other ladies of the Corset Chronicles was a rather appealing one.
Here I am imagining our future in which Gilbert is growing up in this house. I must rein myself in somewhat. Does Damien intend this marriage to last for any length of time? Or will he seek release when he has gotten what he wants from it? I might only be Damien’s wife for a matter of weeks.
Finally, as the sun was setting, the time came for Gilbert to return to the orphanage. He yawned and rested his head on Maria’s breast as they rode in Damien’s carriage back to Willow Street.
“I will see you again very soon,” she promised as the sleepy boy was handed into Rosie’s care.
Maria found herself tearful as she rode away. She should have been happy, but could not help but be afraid of what the future held. For all the changes that she could see in Damien, there was still a long way to go. And he might, at any moment, pull the rugfrom beneath her feet and decide that the marriage had served its purpose. She scrubbed at her eyes angrily.
He does not have the right to toy with my emotions like this. I will ask him outright what his intentions are the moment I get back to the house. I will demand he make it clear to me. Then I will know, one way or the other!
But when Maria returned to the house, Damien was nowhere to be found. She asked Mrs. Whitby to carry a message, but no response was returned. Maria went to the library, the drawing and sitting rooms and even the dining room. All were dark and cold. Finally, she found herself at the staircase which led up to the suite of rooms that were his personal quarters.
Out of bounds. Forbidden. Is he up there? He must be. There is nowhere else in this house he can be, and he does not go out.
It took an effort of will to place her foot on the first step. It creaked loudly, almost prompting her to hurriedly step away. Angry at her own timidity, she ascended quickly, trying not to wince at every sound made by the antique staircase. She passed brooding suits of armor and swords whose blades were notched and dented, a chilling sign of their heavy use.
At the top of the staircase, she found herself in a corridor very like her own. There was a set of doors to her right and another at the far end of the hall. Thick curtains shrouded the windows, and the walls were thick with paintings of landscapes. Taking a breath, she walked the length of the hallway and stood before the door at the end. Before knocking, she listened.
There was no discernible sound from within. No snoring of a sleeping man. No conversation or sounds of movement. Not even the crack of a fire. She knocked. It sounded unbearably loud in the silent hallway. At any moment, she expected Damien to snatch open the door or appear at the far end, striding angrily to demand an explanation for her presence where she had been told she could not be.
I have a right to ask, for my sake and Gilbert’s. I have a right to know what my future holds so that I may plan.
“You cannot offer marriage, even half a marriage and then expect all of your previous isolation to continue,” she muttered, externalizing her thoughts simply to give the stygian hallway a human quality.
