The cook had asked her opinion on the soup that evening—an offer Ariadne was now realizing was only a polite concession, not a true request—and after tasting, had offered a few ingredients to enhance the soup.
The staff had been aghast at that, and a flustered footman quickly escorted her out.
That evening, Mrs. Tully pulled her to the side and said. “I know you have the best of intentions, Your Grace, and I see that you are not one of the ladies who look on servants as only existing to serve them, but what you are doing is actually upsetting the staff.”
Naïvely, she asked, “How?”
“It feels as if you are making it look as if they were not doing their jobs properly,” Mrs. Tully said kindly.
Horrified, Ariadne had stopped the lifelong habit of making her own bed. She allowed her maid to help her bathe and dress, and she never offered to help the cook with meals again.
Everyone had a useful station while she sat in her drawing room, sorting out invitation cards while waiting for these days to pass.
In the days that followed, she hollowed a shallow niche for herself but remained vigilant if Cedric or Emily decided to speak to her again.
With the seventh day passing in quiet and an unnatural home, she began fretting about trying to consummate the marriage again. As much as she tried to shove that kiss with Cedric to the back of her mind, it flared up at the most inopportune times.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Tully knocked on the door. “The stationery you ordered is here. May we enter?”
“Yes, please,” Ariadne replied, desperate for a distraction.
Two footmen came in and rested both boxes on her table, then bowed and retreated. Listlessly, she lifted a stack of cards from the top and noted the seal of the house on the back and her name printed on the bottom, the term Duchess still alien to her, especially since she did not know if Cedric would ever consummate their marriage.
“Your Grace,” Mrs. Tully asked carefully. “Are you alright? Forgive me for overstepping if I am, but you look upset.”
Dropping the card, Ariadne sighed, “I feel strange asking about this, not because you are the housekeeper but because it… it's something I think is best discussed with my mother…”
“I see,” Mrs. Tully nodded. “I will recuse myself then?—”
“No, please,” Ariadne stopped her. “I—I would appreciate any advice you can give me, as even though I said I’d like to speak to my mother about this… I do not think a conversation with her will help.”
“Why not, Your Grace?”
Reddening, she admitted, “It’s about the bedroom. Er… between a man and his wife.”
Mrs. Tully’s lips quirked, “I’ve been married for twenty-seven years, Your Grace, I do get your meaning. My husband is the chief of the gardeners for all His Grace’s properties. My eldest daughter is about your age and married as well. She is a governess now.”
Swallowing, Ariadne confessed, “I suppose my situation is special and unexpected, but we have not consummated the marriage, and that is something that was pressed upon me as a lady’s duty. He had said we would not be divorced, but… I just feel tossed out at sea.”
“I understand, Your Grace, that is a troubling matter, but consider it from his point of view,” Lady Tully replied. “He wasnot going to marry again, and it seems you two are strangers to each other. I think you should give it time for the dust to settle.”
Nodding, Ariadne replied, “It’s just… he said that I am not prepared for what I asked him for.”
Frowning, Mrs. Tully asked, “Your Grace, how did you plan on spending the night?”
This time, her face flamed. “Years ago, my mother gave me precise instructions that only women of the night act on these baser urges; that ladies of our stratum should prepare but not…engage.
“Mother advised to close your eyes, and pretend I was elsewhere, doing something I love in my mind, while my husband… performs. She envisioned finding silks and, after shopping, would take the trimmed scraps with her to make a lovely blanket.
“That the most important thing is to lie still as I can be and have restraint with a ladylike demeanor until the dreadful business is over and I have done my duty.”
Mrs. Tully muttered, “Good gracious alive.”
Ariadne pretended she had not heard it. “I…I do not feel this is right.”
“May I speak freely, Your Grace?”
“Of course.”
