Submitting to the Marquis by Victoria Vale

Author:Victoria Vale [Vale, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-04-30T18:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

Sophie tilted her head back and marveled at the ethereal beauty of the ceiling above her. Ornate chandeliers holding delicate crystals and glass shined rainbow prisms over her face, while the painted white clouds on a blue sky provided the perfect backdrop for the depictions of angels. She stood in the gallery which housed a collection of Fitzwilliam family portraits, but instead, found herself distracted by a ceiling, of all things.

Just a few hours after arriving at Ashton Abbey, she found herself overwhelmed by her surroundings. The lavish ancestral home sat surrounded by rolling green hills and wooded lands stretching on for acres … and beyond that, the farms cultivated by her husband’s tenants.

While her family possessed wealth and lands, they could never compare to the vastness of everything Ashton had inherited. While she felt proud to have become a part of the impressive Fitzwilliam legacy, she could not help but feel a bit intimidated. She was now the lady of the manor, and would be expected to manage it as efficiently as she might Ashton House in London.

Only, Ashton Abbey held dozens of rooms, and thrice the staff of their home in the city.

Taking in a deep breath, she decided to tackle each new challenge as it came. No one would expect her to become the consummate marchioness overnight. They had come for their honeymoon … duty could wait.

Though for Ashton, duty had taken him away from her for the afternoon. As he had not visited since before the start of the Season, he felt it imperative to ride across the lands with his man of business and ensure that everything had been running smoothly in his absence.

“It will only be for this one day,” he’d assured her once he had taken the time to introduce her to the household staff. “Unless some pressing matter arises during our stay, I will be at your disposal day and night.”

Sophie had waved him off and assured him that she could amuse herself until he returned. There was the entire manor to explore, after all.

The sound of footsteps echoing down the long gallery caught her attention, and she turned to find Mrs. Mounsey, the housekeeper, striding toward her. Her wide, black skirts swished the floor as she walked, the keys dangling from her ornate chatelaine clinking together in concert with her steps.

“My lady,” she murmured, executing a swift curtsy. “I had hoped to accompany you on your walk through the house, to help you become acquainted.”

She studied Mrs. Mounsey—a woman of advanced age with sharp features accentuated by a few wrinkles. Her greying hair lay slicked against her head, secured in a neat bun at the nape of her neck. Her garments—typical of a housekeeper—were austere and without adornment.

“I would like that, thank you,” she replied. “I was just enjoying the portraits here. Our gallery at Aelhurst isn’t nearly so large or beautifully laid out. Father isn’t fond of portraits, so he uses the gallery as a place to flaunt his art collection.

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