Mr Arnold went straight to Jessie’s side and bent down towards her, whispering something in her ear. Diana felt the horrible curl of jealousy in her stomach at Jessie being the one so fortunate enough to be so close to Mr Arnold. The whisper could have almost been something intimate, with his head bent down towards her.
He is not mine; he never was, you fool.Her admonishment did little use, though, for the jealousy would not be stopped.
Jessie stood to her feet and walked past Diana, heading for the door. Diana felt a tap to the back of her chair as if the brass bucket Jessie was carrying clattered with the seat. Diana reared forward, jolted by it, then looked around. Before she could call after Jessie and ask what she was doing, Gilbert spoke up.
“Maybe in the summer,” he said hurriedly. “Hmm? Would that work?”
Diana was aware of how keenly he was talking as if he was trying his very best to stop her from looking out of the room to follow where Jessie had walked.
“Yes, that would be nice,” Diana said, not expecting him to hold true to his promise. His eyes followed Jessie’s own path out of the dining room before he looked down to his paper again.
Diana saw the look. There was something in it, and it was certainly not one of a reprimand.
Oh my … is Jessie the one warming his bed at night?
A tap of brass on wood echoed through the house. Diana tore her gaze away from Gilbert, realising it was the front door as Mr Arnold hurried out of the dining room to answer it. While he was gone, Diana returned her stare to Gilbert, feeling anger swell in her stomach.
It seemed her new husband was willing to humiliate her and take another woman to bed. She was filled with warring emotions, anger that he could embarrass her so, and relief that he wouldn’t come to her seeking such things for a while.
“Your Grace, a Mr Alfred Potts to see you,” Mr Arnold said as he stepped into the dining room again. Gilbert’s head darted up from the newspaper as a gentleman followed Mr Arnold into the dining room.
He was rather lanky, as though his entire body had been stretched out, having the effect of hollowing out his stubbled cheeks. His black hair was tied behind his head, and he was still wearing his winter frock coat, dusted with snow on the shoulders.
“Mr Potts? You are early today,” Gilbert said, moving to his feet.
“I come bearing news, Your Grace.” Mr Potts’ voice was one Diana recognised instantly – he had been the one in the library she had overheard looking at the paperwork with her husband. “I have secured a buyer for the land in Melksham.”
“You have?” Gilbert said, glancing towards Diana just once. The simple look made her eyebrows rise in surprise. “Let us talk in private.” He pointed towards the door and urged Mr Potts to follow him out.
“I think you will be pleased. Haymarket Field has garnered much interest …” The words faded away as Mr Potts followed Gilbert out the door.
Diana was aware of Mr Arnold moving to her side to top up her tea, but she couldn’t quite gather her thoughts to turn her attention to him, not yet.
“Haymarket Field … where have I heard that before?” she murmured.
“It was whispered between maids last week, Your Grace,” Mr Arnold said, keeping his voice as formal as possible. She stiffened at the formality in the tone. It was so unlike the way he had been with her when they were playing cards. “There was a fire at the tenants’ houses in Melksham.”
“Oh?” she gasped in surprise, remembering what she had overheard between Gilbert and Mr Potts, then she shook herself. The conversation she had heard was after the fire; they clearly could not be talking about this particular incident. “Was anyone hurt?”
“No, Your Grace. Fortunately, the fire was spotted early, I believe, and people were brought out of the houses. The buildings themselves, though, could not be saved.” Mr Arnold lowered the teapot back down to the table and turned to look at her for the first time. Those cinnamon-coloured eyes softened things between them, just for a minute.
It was such an intimate look that Diana had to take the opportunity, knowing they were alone.
“Can we speak again?” she asked in a whisper. He snapped his gaze away and returned to pulling the milk and cream jugs forward, giving her the option of which to use in her tea.
“Your Grace,” he whispered, deepening his voice, “you know as well as I that it is for the best that we do not.” With his task done, he circled the table and attended to tidying away Gilbert’s dishes.
Diana’s breath hitched, holding back tears that were threatening to come, when she was aware of something moving out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head to the side, so certain that someone had been standing in the dining room doorway, but it was now empty. She maintained staring at it for some time until she saw another movement, the flap of a maid’s skirt and apron.
Diana pushed her chair out abruptly, scraping it along the floor and striding forward, the better to see who was hiding there. It caused sudden movement, and the maid ran. Diana hurried to the doorway, able to see the maid scurry off.
It was Jessie. She hovered in the doorway that led to the servants’ stairwell and glanced back at Diana, with so much malice in the stare that Diana felt the threat of tears again.
“Is everything all right, Your Grace?” Mr Arnold’s question stung.
Diana whipped her head back round, blinking madly in the hope that he wouldn’t see the tears.
“No, Mr Arnold. Nothing is right at this moment.” With no more interest in breakfast, she tossed the napkin that had been scrunched in her hand back onto the table and strode out of the dining room, heading towards the staircase. With each step she took, she found more purpose growing within her, a certainty that she could not stay in this moment.
