“Father,” Arabella took the hand that her father offered.
“I cannot believe that my sweet little girl is married.”
Arabella wanted to scream that his sweet little girl could not believe she was married either, but there was no point in burdening her father. This was her problem, and she would be the one to solve it.
“I would like to have a talk with you, my dear girl,” her father said.
“Of course. What is it?”
“You are now a woman. A married woman,” her father said.
Arabella did not know why her father seemed so agitated in stating the obvious, but she decided to let him express himself before she judged.
“And as a married woman,” he continued, “you have some duties that… what I mean to say is that your husband may have certain expectations…”
Arabella’s eyes widened in shock. Her father was trying to explain to her marital duties, and the idea alone was equally hilarious and awkward, to say the least.
“You see, every husband and wife…”
Oh no. Arabella was not ready to have this talk with her father. Not now, not ever. And luckily for her, her father seemed equally reluctant to have it either. So, to spare them both the embarrassment, she cut him off.
“Father, do not worry. Perhaps it is better to discuss such a matter with Winnie. She has assured me that she is well informed on this and can enlighten me adequately.”
The sigh of relief that her father let out was audible. His body relaxed, and he patted her hands.
“Oh, my dear Arabella,” he said sorrowfully. “This is a discussion a bride has with her mother. I wish she were here to see you in this moment, to guide you and advise you. I tried my best all these years to…”
“You have done your best, father,” she reassured. “And that is more than anyone was expecting from you. Thank you.”
Her father was sincerely touched and hugged his daughter lightly. Arabella made her way to the rose garden. She found Bridget alone, caressing one of the white, delicate flowers.
“You know, Bridget,” she said, “you can visit me anytime you want. In fact, I hope you do.”
Her sister looked back, and for the first time, Arabella felt seen. Bridget was there when the Duke first came, demanding that one of the Marriott sisters would become his bride. She was there when she planned to push the Duke away with silly antics. She was there when Arabella offered herself instead of Bridget.
She was the only one who did not look at her with fake happiness, nor did she wish her a happy life. Bridget knew what Arabella had sacrificed for their family. That was why, in her eyes, there was only gratitude.
“The garden looks lovely,” was all Bridget said.
“I am sure I will find more lovely locations in this estate,” Arabella responded, knowing well the double meaning of her sister’s words.
Hard as it might be, Arabella could find some happiness in her new situation. Though as she looked upon the Duke waiting forher to go inside the house, with his cold demeanor and icy look, she could not help but wonder how long her sunshine would last.
CHAPTER 13
Welcoming Home
Arabella was still watching as the last of the few guests made their way to their carriages, with the last one being the vicar, who wished them both a happy marriage and healthy offspring.
And suddenly it was just them. The Duke, her, and Winnie further back. Arabella felt… transitioned. This morning, when she entered the estate, she came as her father’s daughter. And just like that, she was simply relocated to a new household, a home she didn’t really know, and was asked to not only live there but also manage it.
“Let us go inside,” the Duke said coldly. “It looks as if it might rain.”
He offered his arm. Arabella was surprised that he initiated even this appropriate touch, but she decided to go along with it andwrapped her arm around his. The walk from the church to the main house was not very long, but still it felt like a passage.
Arabella could hear the gravel under her wedding slippers while her gaze was fixated on the house looming in the distance. It was, by all means, a very beautiful and elegant house. It was perfectly symmetrical at every angle, and its honey-coloured stone façade still held that sweetness even under the grey sky. If it were in any other circumstance, Arabella would have joyously examined the delicate architecture.
They went up the marble steps, the house now looming over them. The high sash windows felt like eyes that were watching her, judging the new mistress of the house. Arabella decided to ignore that annoying feeling that told her she was undertaking a task too hard to fulfil.
