The Duchess (Montgomery/Taggert 16)

She was aware of the profound silence in the room as every one of the strangers as well as the servants turned to look at her. Her mother never rose before noon so she wasn’t at the table, but her father was happily seated halfway down the opposite side.

Harry looked up at Claire in puzzlement, as though he didn’t understand what her complaint was. “Everyone is seated by rank, and you are an American.”

Claire could only look at him.

Harry, not seeming to know what she didn’t understand, attempted to explain. “After we’re married and you’re the duchess, you may sit at the foot of the table.”

“Oh,” was all Claire could say. She tried to keep her chin up as she made her way to near the end of the table—the end where untitled Americans were seated. Even after they were married, she would still not be allowed to dine next to her husband.

Once she was seated and the first course of fried sausages was served, she decided to make the best of it all. She turned to the man next to her. “Lovely day outside, isn’t it?” she said.

All motion at the table stopped. There were no more sounds of eating and everyone paused to stare at her. She leaned forward to look at Harry. He made a little gesture of shaking his head to let her know she wasn’t supposed to talk.

She looked down at her food and began to eat in silence. By the second course of more fried food, a liveried footman came by and handed the men newspapers and they began to read. Claire thought that if she weren’t allowed to talk, then she too would read. She took a newspaper from the tray when it was offered to the man on her left.

Once again there was that silence. Now what have I done wrong? she thought. She looked around her and saw that none of the women were reading newspapers, just the men. While trying to hide her disgust at the absurdity of this, but not really succeeding, she tossed the unread paper back onto the footman’s tray.

She looked about at the silent people, all of them concentrating on their food or their papers. But down the long length of the table was one woman who was looking at her. She was a plain-faced woman, but Claire couldn’t help thinking that with a more fashionable dress and just a touch of cosmetics, she could be made to look a great deal better than she did. The woman smiled at Claire and Claire smiled back. The woman was sitting near Harry so she must have a very high “rank,” Claire thought.

After the long meal Claire practically ran to reach Harry before he disappeared into the bowels of the house. “Could I speak to you?”

He frowned a bit but recovered himself and led the way into a small drawing room. He turned to her, trying to conceal his impatience. By now his horse was saddled and waiting for him.

“Could you explain to me about breakfast?”

“What about it?” he asked, glancing at the clock on the mantel.

“Why does no one talk?”

“Mother believes that the most important meal of the day is breakfast and that people can’t digest their food properly if they’re talking.”

She frowned, for he sounded as though he were chanting something he’d memorized. “Then why not have silence when your mother is present at the table and let people converse when s

he isn’t? It would make for a much more pleasant meal if people could talk.”

He smiled indulgently at her. “But Mother is the duchess.”

Claire did not say, but you are the duke. “I see. And she rules the house even when she isn’t there.”

“Of course. Now I really must go. Your father and I are going to look at some horses today.”

“But what about the newspapers?”

For a moment, Harry looked puzzled. “Oh, I see. Mother doesn’t think women ought to read newspapers.”

“What does Her Grace think women ought to read?” Claire’s voice was heavy with sarcasm, but Harry didn’t seem to notice.

“Actually, she doesn’t think women should read very much at all. She says it makes them discontent. Now, darling, I must go.” He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and started for the door.

“Harry! May I go with you?”

Harry, his back to her, rolled his eyes skyward. When he turned back to her, he was smiling. “Darling, I would love to take you with me, but you’d be bored to death. Besides, we’re going on horseback, and the doctor said you’re not to use your arm for anything heavy, and that includes pulling on a horse’s reins. You just stay here and enjoy yourself.”

Claire tried to hide her disappointment. “May I explore the house?”

“Of course you may,” he said in a put-upon-male voice. “You’re free to do whatever you want. But the east wing of the house is full of people’s rooms so perhaps you shouldn’t disturb them, and the west wing is falling apart. Rotten timbers and all that, so you’d better stay out of there. I really must go now. See you at dinner.” With that he left the room before she could ask any more questions or request anything else of him.

“I may do anything I want except talk, read, ride, or look at the house that will be mine someday,” she said to herself, but then made herself stop being pessimistic.