The golden light of late afternoon slanted through the tall arched windows of Wycliffe Manor as the carriage rumbled up the gravel drive. Evelyn leaned back in her seat, her bonnet in her lap and a faint smile still playing at the corners of her lips. Juliana sat across from her, humming a tune and fanning herself lazily, the shopping boxes at their feet stacked haphazardly.
"Admit it," Juliana said as the horses slowed to a stop, "you enjoyed yourself."
Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "You're dangerous."
"And yet you like me."
They both laughed softly. As the footman opened the door, Evelyn stepped out, holding up the hem of her skirts and brushing dust from the soft blue fabric.
"Back to the gilded cage," she murmured.
Juliana gave her a look. "Darling, you're the duchess. You don't live in a cage, you own it."
They parted ways in the grand entry hall, Juliana vanishing up the stairs in a flutter of skirts, still chattering about something she wanted to show Evelyn in the drawing room later.
Evelyn turned toward her chambers, her feet already aching from the cobblestones of the village. The silence of the manor had returned like a breath held too long, the echo of her steps swallowed by velvet carpets and heavy tapestries.
But when she opened her chamber doors, she stopped short.
There, standing just inside with her hands clutched tightly together, was Cora.
Her chestnut hair was pinned in its usual messy bun, a few strands escaping as always. Her round face was flushed from travel, her eyes red-rimmed from emotion but unmistakably glowing.
"My lady," she said, her voice breaking. "You look... you look like royalty."
Evelyn's breath caught. Her throat tightened, and before she could stop herself, she crossed the room and pulled Cora into a tight embrace.
"You're here," Evelyn whispered, voice cracking. "He actually brought you here."
Cora sniffled against her shoulder. "His Grace sent a carriage. I...I didn't believe it until I saw the crest on the door."
They broke apart, both smiling, both wiping at their eyes with the back of their sleeves like children caught in the rain.
"I thought I'd never see you again," Cora said, brushing a wrinkle from Evelyn's sleeve. "I've been worrying myself sick every day, wondering if you were all right...if they were treating you well...if..."
"I'm fine," Evelyn said quickly, though her voice wavered. "And now you're here. I don't have to be alone anymore."
Cora's eyes widened. "Alone? In this massive palace of a house?"
Evelyn gave a soft laugh, though her gaze drifted toward the empty hearth. "It's not the house that makes you lonely."
"Then we'll fill it with warmth," Cora said briskly, wiping her eyes. "And gossip. And tea. And I'll keep you so busy you won't have time to think about anything but what dress to wear next."
Evelyn gave her a grateful smile. "I've missed you, Cora. So much more than I can say."
"And I you, my lady. You've no idea."
The warmth in Evelyn's chest was real now. Solid. She helped Cora unpack the modest trunk the staff had delivered to the room. They spoke of home, of the familiar faces Cora had left behind, of the quiet town where Evelyn once dreamt of something more and now found herself craving the simplicity of.
As Cora folded the last of her aprons into the small wardrobe set aside for her, Evelyn paused.
"Do you know why he did it?" she asked softly. "Why he sent for you?"
Cora looked up. "Because you asked, didn't you?"
"I did."
"Then that's why," Cora said simply. "He listened."
Evelyn didn't respond right away. But something shifted in her then, like the weight of his silence wasn't as complete as she thought. Maybe he'd heard her, truly heard her even if he didn't say so.
As the evening shadows lengthened and a fire was lit in the hearth, Evelyn sat at her dressing table while Cora brushed her hair like she used to, murmuring softly about how the manor gave her the chills and how Lady Rosalind looked like a duchess carved from marble.
For the first time since arriving, Evelyn didn't feel like a stranger in her own room.
Later that evening- Evelyn's Chambers.
The evening moonlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting soft glow lines across the velvet chaise where Evelyn lay in her dressing robe, face-down, hair gathered loosely to one side. A gentle fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth blending with the lavender-scented oil Cora had warmed in a small porcelain dish beside her.
"You always did like this scent," Cora murmured as she poured a small amount into her hands and rubbed them together, then began kneading Evelyn's shoulders.
Evelyn let out a sigh, her muscles gradually releasing the tension they'd clung to since arriving at Wycliffe Manor. "Heavens, I needed this."
"I could tell." Cora's thumbs worked into the knots beneath Evelyn's shoulder blades. "You're as tight as piano wire."
"It's the silence," Evelyn murmured. "This house is always so quiet. Even when people are talking, it feels like... like no one's really saying anything."
"Well," Cora said, pressing gently along the line of her spine, "that's nobility for you. All silk gloves and secrets. At least now you've got me back to tell you what people are actually thinking."
Evelyn smiled into the pillow beneath her cheek. "Yes, please. Start with you. What's happened since I left Ashcombe House?"
Cora didn't hesitate. "Your mother has taken to reading novels, bad ones. She says she's educating herself to be more 'elevated.'."
Evelyn let out a sleepy chuckle. "Of course she is."
"And the Lord's business...well, it hasn't collapsed, and it's certainly sailing smooth. He seemed more happy now."
"That's great " Evelyn smiled.
Cora worked lower, kneading gently down her back, voice lowering. "Miss Honora stopped by the house a few times after your wedding. Always with that smug look. She asked where you'd gone and pretended she didn't already know. She's up to something, I'm sure of it."
"Always is," Evelyn muttered. "She never could resist twisting the knife."
Cora gave a little scoff and resumed working at Evelyn's waist, her fingers nimble and skilled. "She's been seen with young Sir Roman, too. Around town. Whispers say they're becoming close, if you take my meaning."
Evelyn stilled for a breath. "Roman?"
"Mhm. Though he always looks miserable when she talks to him. Poor man's heart is still in your pocket, I'd wager."
He was a suitor who had once courted her relentlessly but she had turned him down.
Evelyn didn't reply, but her fingers curled slightly in the fabric beneath her.
Cora sensed the shift but didn't push. "Anyhow...," she went on, lightening her tone, "you wouldn't believe how fast word of your marriage spread. The whole city acted like they'd been struck by lightning. The butcher's wife swears she saw you step into the duke's carriage in a gown that cost more than her cottage."
Evelyn laughed, tension melting as Cora's hands worked up to her neck. "It was probably less."
"Doesn't matter. You were radiant. And now look at you, wife of a duke, living in a manor that's big enough to get lost in."
"I do get lost," Evelyn murmured. "Emotionally, at least."
Cora paused, then softened her hands to a gentle stroke. "Are you... happy here, my lady?"
Evelyn didn't answer right away. The massage had soothed her muscles, but not the ache beneath her breastbone. "I'm not unhappy," she said carefully. "It's just... different. Quiet. Lonely."
"But the Lord treats you well, right?"
Evelyn hesitated. "He treats me... like someone he respects. Not always someone he understands."
"Then maybe he's still figuring out how," Cora offered. "Lady Ashcombe said Men like him don't always speak the language of affection. They use silence like armor."
"Like a prison," Evelyn whispered.
Cora pressed a hand to her back, warm and grounding. "Then let's decorate the cell, shall we? Fill it with laughter and scandal and lavender oil. Make it yours."
Evelyn smiled faintly. "I've missed you, Cora."
"And I've missed you, too. Now hush. Let me finish before your next audience."
Evelyn closed her eyes and let her thoughts drift as Cora returned to her work, her familiar presence like balm on old wounds. Outside, the wind rustled the ivy climbing the manor walls, but within her chambers, Evelyn finally felt just a little more at home.
And when she finally lay down that night, Cora snoring softly in the small adjoining chamber, Evelyn let herself sleep easily, wrapped not in silks or titles or the Duke's absent arms, but in the comfort of someone who knew her.