Page 15 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

Chapter Four

Late July 1817

Alverton Grange emerged from the summer haze like something from a Gothic novel, its Tudor foundations rising to later Georgian additions that sprawled confidently across the ascending ground. Charlotte leaned forward in the carriage, taking in her first glimpse of her new home as they passed through the gates. Ancient oaks lined the long drive, their shadows dappling the gravel path that wound upward towards the house.

William stirred from his apparent absorption in his papers.

“The original house dates from Henry VIII’s time,” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence that had fallen between them. “Though my grandfather added the east wing and renovated much of the interior.”

“It’s beautiful,” Charlotte breathed, watching the afternoon sun catch the mullioned windows.

The house possessed a solid dignity that spoke of generations of careful stewardship - at least until William’s father had nearly brought it to ruin. As their carriage approached the main entrance, Charlotte could see a line of servants arranged on the steps, ready to welcome their new Duchess.

Her heart began to race.

This was the moment that she had both anticipated and dreaded - her first appearance as mistress of Alverton Grange. If the servants accepted her well, it would make her life far easier from here on – but what if they didn’t?

The carriage came to a stop, and William descended first, turning to offer her his hand. Charlotte placed her fingers in his, noticing, even distracted as she was by what was before her, how warm and strong his grip felt as she stepped down. The summer breeze caught at her travelling dress, and she was grateful that she’d had Morton change her out of her wedding gown before leaving London.

A tall, commanding woman with iron-grey hair stepped forward and executed a perfect curtsey.

“Welcome to Alverton Grange, Your Grace. I am Mrs Walden, the housekeeper.”

“Thank you, Mrs Walden.” Charlotte smiled, determined to project the confidence expected of a Duchess, despite her inner trembling. “I look forward to working with you.”

William’s hand settled at the small of her back, a barely-there touch that nevertheless sent unexpected warmth through her.

“Mrs Walden has served Alverton for nearly thirty years. She’ll help you familiarise yourself with the household.”

Charlotte acknowledged each servant as they were presented - the butler, Mr Phillips, whose dignity rivalled William’s; the cook, Mrs Thackeray, whose assessing gaze suggested that she was already planning menus to tempt her new mistress’ appetite; the first footman, Peters, whose name she carefully committed to memory. Each face held a mix of curiosity and reserve as they took her measure.

The entrance hall soared above them, its oak panelling gleaming with generations of care. A massive staircase curved upward, while family portraits watched from the walls with painted eyes that seemed to judge their latest addition.

Charlotte felt the weight of their regard as William led her forward.

“Mrs Walden will show you to your chambers,” William said, his hand falling away from her back. “I have some estate matters requiring my immediate attention. We’ll dine at eight.”

Charlotte masked her disappointment at his abrupt departure. She had to expect such things, given the very transactional nature of their marriage. Still… surely she could hope for some small touches of warmth?

“Of course, Your Grace.”

He paused, as if about to say something more, then simply nodded and strode away towards what she presumed was his study. The sound of his boots on the polished floor echoed in the vast space.

“If you’ll follow me, Your Grace,” Mrs Walden said, already moving towards the stairs. “I’ve had your rooms prepared in the family wing.”

The Duchess’ suite proved to be a series of elegantly appointed chambers overlooking the formal gardens. The sitting room featured fresh blue silk wallpaper and delicate French furniture that must have been installed for her arrival. Through one door, Charlotte glimpsed a bedchamber done in cream and gold, a massive four-poster bed dominating the space. Another door led to a dressing room where her new lady’s maid, who Mrs Walden introduced as Sarah, was already unpacking her trunks.

“I hope that everything meets with your approval, Your Grace,” Mrs Walden said, watching Charlotte’s face carefully. “His Grace ordered the rooms completely refurbished for your arrival.”

Charlotte touched the silk wallpaper, moved by this evidence that William had considered her comfort, even as she forced her thoughts to things more practical.

“Everything is lovely, Mrs Walden. Though I confess, I’m more interested in learning about the household itself. Might we discuss the daily operations while Sarah unpacks?”

Something like approval flickered in the housekeeper’s eyes.

“Of course, Your Grace. Shall we begin with the household accounts?”

For the next hour, Charlotte immersed herself in learning Alverton’s complex domestic machinery. Mrs Walden proved to be a clear instructor, explaining everything from the current staff arrangements to the particular challenges of managing such a large establishment.