“I just wish to take some time to understand things,” she offered diplomatically. “And you know that I turn to you as you are one of the oldest staff members here.”
The head maid nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“Tell me, how did you manage to secure a position at the estate?”
“I started as a scullery maid when I first arrived, but His Grace promoted me to the main house staff last year.”
Yes, finally. She had mentioned Evan herself.
“And why did he do that?”
She bit her lip, as if debating whether she should answer honestly. Then, after a pause, she exhaled.
“He found out that my younger brother was injured in a factory accident,” she admitted. “I could barely afford his medicine, and I suppose His Grace… noticed.”
Isadora blinked, surprised. She had expected a regular answer—that he was appreciative of her skills. “He offered you a higher position due to the circumstances that you were in?”
Mrs. Wilson nodded quickly. “He said if I was going to spend all my time worrying, I might as well make better wages while I did it.”
“Ah. That… sounds like him,” Isadora muttered.
Abrupt. Practical. And still somehow considerate.
“What else do you know about him?” she asked. It was a blunt question this time.
“His Grace does not like people prying into his business.” Mrs. Wilson hesitated for a moment.
“I am his wife,” Isadora said firmly. “It’s hardly prying if I am simply trying to understand him better.”
“I can only reiterate to you what we have already discussed. He is not like other lords,” she said softly. “He does not expect to be bowed and scraped to. If anything, he seems… uncomfortable with overly deferential behavior sometimes.”
“Uncomfortable?”
Mrs. Wilson nodded. “I’ve seen him in the morning, sometimes, when the footmen move too quickly to assist him. He waves them off, like he doesn’t need the help.”
The story made a lot more sense now that Evan had admitted what he had about his upbringing. About how kindness had been a luxury for him, rather than something that was given freely.
It would make sense that someone with that background would be uneasy accepting the kind of help that was available for a duke. A man who had spent his life fighting for his place in the world would not want to be waited on like a helpless aristocrat.
The head maid shifted hesitantly, glancing at her again. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace… but may I ask you something?”
“You may.”
“Why is it that you ask so many questions about His Grace?” she said softly. “While I do not mind them per se, it appears that I am only a limited trove of information. The best source is the man himself. Surely you could talk to him directly, being married to him.”
Isadora stiffened slightly, taken off guard. It was a simple question. A fair one. But she did not know how to answer.
“That is easier said than done,” she replied finally. “I do not know him fully yet.”
Mrs. Wilson studied her then gave a knowing smile. “You’re learning, though.”
Isadora blinked, startled.
Mrs. Wilson dipped into a curtsy. “If you’ll excuse me, Your Grace, I should return to my work.”
Isadora nodded absently, her mind still turning as she watched her walk away.
Shewaslearning slowly, but her patience was beginning to wear thin.
