Page 25 of The Duke’s Christmas Redemption

“Is all well with your family, Mrs Bennett?” Charlotte enquired gently, trying to strike the right balance between concern and authority.

The dairymaid’s obvious distress worried her, but she must be careful not to seem like she was prying.

“Yes, Your Grace. Though...” Mrs Bennett hesitated, her hands twisting in her apron. The gesture reminded Charlotte painfully of her own nervous habits when facing William’s stern disapproval. “My youngest has been feeling poorly these past few days. Nothing serious, I’m sure.”

Charlotte exchanged a glance with Mrs Walden, reading similar concern in the housekeeper’s expression.

“Perhaps Physician Morton should look in on the child?”

“Oh, no, Your Grace!” The dairymaid’s protest came quickly, tinged with both pride and fear. “We couldn’t possibly trouble His Grace’s physician for a simple childhood fever.”

“Nonsense,” Charlotte said firmly, channelling her mother’s gentle authority. “The health of Alverton’s people is very much our concern. Mrs Walden, please make a note to send word to Physician Morton this afternoon.”

As they continued their rounds, visiting the home farm and several outlying cottages, Charlotte’s initial concerns deepened into genuine alarm. At each stop, she observed similar signs of illness – pale faces, lingering coughs, children confined to bed. The pattern was too consistent to ignore, and each new case added to the weight pressing against her heart. Most troubling was their visit to the Morris cottage, where Tom and Mary Fletcher lived with Mary’s mother, Widow Morris. The roof’s condition had worsened since Charlotte’s first ride past, and now she could see how the damp affected the family’s health. Mary Fletcher’s infant daughter fussed in her cradle, her small face flushed with fever, while her mother hovered anxiously nearby.

Charlotte’s chest tightened at the sight. The baby’s crying held that peculiar weakness she remembered from the year that influenza had swept through their village at home. That outbreak had claimed three lives, including the baker’s wife, despite her father’s prompt action in summoning physicians and providing care.

“How many others are ill?”

As she walked between cottages with Mrs Walden, her mind raced with calculations of what might be needed. The estate’s carefully managed finances could surely stretch to cover medical care, but would William see the necessity?

“It’s difficult to say, Your Grace. Our people are proud – they don’t like to complain.” Mrs Walden’s tone held years of experience with tenant matters. “But I’ve heard whispers of at least six families with sick children.”

Charlotte paused, watching a group of labourers in a distant field. Even at this distance, she could see that their movements lacked the usual vigour she had observed on her previous outings.

“And the adults?”

“Some are beginning to show symptoms. Nothing severe yet, but...”

“But influenza spreads quickly, especially among those already weakened by poor conditions.”

Charlotte completed the thought, her mind already leaping ahead to implications that she knew William could not ignore. Harvest time approached – if too many workers fell ill, the estate’s carefully planned recovery might be threatened. Yet even as she considered these practical concerns – the ones most likely to sway William’s opinion – Charlotte could not forget the sight of Mary Fletcher’s feverish infant, or the dairymaid’s trembling hands. These were not merely workers whose health affected the estate’s productivity – they were people under her care, looking to their Duke and Duchess for protection and support.

The weight of that responsibility pressed against her chest, making her next words come out softly.

“His Grace should be informed.”

Mrs Walden’s careful response held volumes of understanding.

“Yes, Your Grace. Though perhaps...”

“Perhaps we should have all the facts clearly arranged before approaching him,” Charlotte finished, managing a small smile.

Their brief marriage had already taught her much about William’s preference for precise information over emotional appeals. They completed their circuit as the sun climbed towards noon. Charlotte’s practical walking boots were dusty, her dress hem slightly muddied, but her mind was clear. She had obligations beyond maintaining social niceties, whatever William’s views on the proper role of a Duchess might be.

More importantly, she had begun to understand that her position offered opportunities to help that went beyond mere charity.

“Mrs Walden,” Charlotte said as they approached the house, her thoughts crystallising into purpose, “please have Sarah bring tea to my sitting room. And then... I believe we have much to discuss about our duties of care.”

The housekeeper’s usually stern features softened with approval.

“Indeed we do, Your Grace. Indeed we do.”

In her sitting room, Charlotte removed her bonnet and gloves with careful movements that belied her inner turmoil. The estate’s prosperity rested on complex foundations – not just financial stability, but the health and welfare of every soul who called Alverton home. William’s careful management had restored the estate’s material fortune, but perhaps he had been so focused on financial recovery that he’d overlooked other essential elements. The thought of William brought a familiar sensation to her stomach. Even in his stubbornness, she could not deny his dedication to Alverton’s welfare. If only she could make him see that true prosperity encompassed more than merely balanced ledgers! His grey eyes held such intelligence when he spoke of estate matters – surely he could be made to understand this broader view of their responsibilities?

A quiet tap heralded Sarah with the tea tray, followed by Mrs Walden. As the maid arranged the china with practiced efficiency, Charlotte gathered her thoughts, remembering her mother’s lessons about the proper management of household matters. Lady Westbridge had always emphasised the importance of approaching difficult subjects with both heart and head engaged.

“Tell me,” she said once they were alone, warming her hands on her teacup, “in your experience, how has His Grace typically responded to illness among the tenants?”