Page 48

By the time Eliza reached the room, both trunks sat at the foot of her bed, polished brass catches glinting in the afternoon sun. She rushed straight towards the trunks.

"They've arrived!" Vinnie exclaimed.

"They've... arrived?" She paused and questioned Vinnie, who was already unclasping the first trunk.

"His Grace's order," Vinnie continued, as if it were obvious, and Eliza had to think whether she had missed a conversation.

"The Duke ordered... trunks?" she questioned again.

"For you!"

Eliza blinked. "For me?"

She stepped closer just as Vinnie threw open the lid.

"Oh..." Eliza gasped as rows upon rows of gowns met her eyes. Silks. Muslins. Velvets. Day dresses. Tea dresses. Walking dresses. It seemed as though someone had stuffed half a dressmaker's shop into two trunks.

Vinnie had probably been more excited than she was.

"Oh, look at this one!... And this one!" Her ladies' maid had burrowed her head in the trunk.

"Oh, Your Grace, you simply must wear this for dinner!" she heard through the muffle of fabric.

She only just had time to admire one gown before another was being measured against her.

Eliza laughed.

"I think you're enjoying this rather more than I am."

"I absolutely am," Vinnie said, not even sparing a glance at Eliza. For the better part of an hour, they unpacked every last garment, laying them carefully across the bed for inspection before hanging them in the wardrobe.

One dress in particular caught Eliza's eye. Its fitted emerald bodice flowed into a white linen-and-tulle skirt that looked as though it had been made for dancing. Unable to resist, she slipped it on with Vinnie's help.

She turned before the looking glass, and the skirt blossomed around her in a cloud of white tulle. Before she realised it, she was spinning once more. On the surface, the gift of a new wardrobe appeared to be a sweet gesture, but she refused to let herself believe it. Arthur was, above all else, a logical man. He had noticed that she had spent her first few days at Winworth wearing the same dress and drawn the obvious conclusion: she had arrived with but two dresses to her name.

Naturally, he had rectified the matter before she embarrassed him by appearing at the dinner for a full week dressed the same each evening. Or perhaps it simply came down to duty.

Still...

She found herself wondering how on earth he had managed her measurements. Then the thought of Arthur looking at her closely enough to commission an entire wardrobe seemed almost unfathomable. It almost brought a heat to her cheeks.

That emerald gown quickly became her favourite. She remembered dancing until she was almost dizzy with delight, and more than once she was certain Arthur was watching her from the gallery above. Yet every time she lifted her gaze, there was no one there.

Perhaps she had imagined it. She no longer trusted her own senses, not since that mortifying conversation in her bedchamber after her accident.

When she found Arthur later that evening to thank him sincerely for the gifts, he did little more than nod.

"They were necessary," was all he said.

Apparently, even kindness came dressed as duty where the Duke of Buckingham was concerned. Yet with each passing day, his silence grated upon her a little more. Since their conversation, silence was all she had received from him. Only Laurence seemed capable of filling it, his easy conversation flowing as freely as her own whenever their paths happened to cross, though he was just as often tucked away with Arthur.

She had no responses from James, Cecily or Richard, though she wrote to each of them faithfully at least four times since her wedding day. Eliza gave Richard the benefit of the doubt since he was at sea, after all, and she had heard from him only two months before, but the silence from the remaining siblings pained her.

Even the children's letters had begun to slow. It had only been a fortnight, but she knew, realistically, that Mr and Mrs Didley would be occupied with the expansion of the orphanage and the care of four lively little souls.

She missed her family terribly. The quiet of Winworth, which should by all accounts feel peaceful, began to settle around her like a weight, and she found herself increasingly at a loss as to how to occupy her days. She intended to ask Vinnie about arranging painting lessons soon, but she could not help wondering how many new skills she could acquire before even they lost their novelty.

Something else was gnawing at her mind. She had an arrangement to uphold now as the Duchess of Buckingham. The Duke had made it abundantly clear that was her purpose.