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Eliza's face brightened and to Arthur's mild horror, she reached forward and gently took the housekeeper's hands before Mrs Clapton had even fully risen.

"It's lovely to meet you too, Mrs Clapton." Eliza said.

Arthur noticed several footmen exchanging the briefest of glances.

"And what is it you do here at Winworth?" she questioned.

Mrs Clapton's eyes widened and she looked instinctively towards Arthur.

"Mrs Clapton oversees the household," Arthur answered matter-of-factly, before the woman could formulate a reply. "She manages a staff of approximately sixty, from the kitchens to the stables, ensuring the house continues to function."

Eliza's lips parted, forming a small circle of understanding.

"Sixty?" she questioned and was met with a curt nod.

"Goodness. Please forgive me if it takes me a little while to learn everyone's names." Eliza said.

"I'm sure the staff will understand, Your Grace." Mrs Clapton's expression softened ever so slightly.

The housekeeper stepped aside and beckoned a younger woman forward.

She was perhaps five-and-twenty; Arthur had never seen her before, but he did instruct Mrs Clapton to employ staff for his new bride. The woman had neatly tucked her auburn hair into her cap and wore the same black uniform as Mrs Clapton.

"This is Miss Hatch," Mrs Clapton said. "She will serve as your lady's maid."

Miss Hatch curtsied.

"If Your Grace would permit, I would be delighted to show you to your apartments."

Eliza's eyes immediately found Arthur's. Again.

She looked to him for confirmation before every decision. Christ. His bride required an extraordinary amount of reassurance, but he found himself indulging; it was her first day after all. He gave the smallest nod of his head.

She smiled gratefully before slipping her arm from his.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Miss Hatch led her towards the staircase. As they reached the broad landing, divided in two, Eliza paused and turned. For reasons Arthur could not begin to fathom, she gave him the smallest, most bashful wave and then she disappeared down the eastern corridor.

Arthur remained standing in the entrance hall for several moments after she had gone. What a bizarre and puzzling woman.

He needed a drink. Immediately.

“Mrs Clapton, please ask Mr Ellis to meet me in my office.”

Without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared into the quiet solitude of his study.

Arthur almost sank into the leather chair behind his desk, its old frame groaning beneath his weight as he dropped into it with more force than he ordinarily allowed himself.

He pulled the crystal decanter towards him, removed its stopper and reached beneath the desk for his favourite whisky glass.

A generous measure splashed into the crystal, and he drank half of it in one swallow.

What a nightmare.

He had made only three requests for his bride. The requirements had been deliberately practical. Marriage was to fit around his life, not inconvenience it. Eliza was going to be anything but practical; he could sense it. In the fifteen minutes she had occupied Winworth, she had likely generated more noise than the halls had heard all year.

She smiled too readily. Talked incessantly. Touched people without hesitation.