The incredible painting mounted above the fireplace again caught Hannah’s attention – this time it was lit differently due to the roaring fire below it. She saw different shadows and hues than she had previously and it suddenly lent itself as a viable conversation piece.
‘I do so love that beautiful painting!’ Hannah remarked as she joined her mother-in-law by the hearth.
Anne turned with an audible grunt ‘My husband chose the artwork in this house. If it were my choice, I prefer blank painted walls and wood panelling.’
Hannah noticed a look exchanged between Caleb and his sister – she appreciated the sentiment displayed in their cynicism and hoped perhaps to one day be included in their repartee.
The door swung open to reveal the Butler announcing the imminent arrival of the Fairfax family.
‘Show them through, Carterton,’ the Dowager Duchess instructed.
Emmeline enthusiastically joined Hannah and Anne at the fireplace and Caleb reluctantly took steps in that same direction, seeming weary.
The energy transformed instantly as a buxom woman swept into the room, immediately taking ownership of the space with her flowing colourful gown and almost visible cloud of dusky perfume. Her thick brown hair was piled high upon her head and blusher too liberally applied upon a face that was quite attractive, if not a little plump.
She was followed by a gregarious, thin, suited man who smiled around the room in a lively manner, taking in all people present in a brisk, efficient, friendly assessment.
Lord Edward and Lady Beatrice Fairfax - Hannah established quite promptly - came from a long line of generations of aristocratic privilege. They emanated a confidence and wealth that was innate and not cultivated.
Hannah looked to the door, expecting to see their young daughter following and felt oddly confronted to see not a small child appear, but a young lady of a similar age to Hannah herself.
Lucinda Fairfax seemed to move as if skating on ice – she was flawlessly graceful and her shining flaxen hair cascaded down her back in perfectly formed ringlets. Her face was pale yet radiant with a natural glow and the colour applied to her smiling lips accentuated her clear, bright blue eyes.
Lucinda reminded Hannah of a girl she used to know in school, by the name of Madeline. She had shone with natural beauty; just like Lucinda, she had piercing blue eyes that convinced the teachers she was innocent and honest. Her long, silky hair was practically white, it was so blonde and the sun always seemed to hit it at an angle that bounced light onto the walls around her. It seemed to Hannah that was how Madeline lived her life – in a spotlight, drawing attention wherever she went.
Hannah realised in adulthood that she must have always been staring at Madeline with admiration because she could now recall how Madeline looked in every possible mood, outfit, or scenario; her eyes must have captured those moments with fervent watching.
Hannah thought perhaps just once, how it would be gratifying to look like Madeline, but looking like her was not her fixation – she wanted to paint Madeline. The more she looked at this beautiful girl, created so perfectly, the more she imagined how she might mix the yellow and white to produce the exact colour of Madeline’s hair and wondered if she could match it precisely.
But it was not an entirely fortunate situation because Madeline was a spiteful child. She had once caught a spider and put it in Hannah’s hair. She was known to pinch the other children and blame it on some other innocent bystander. She lied, often, and because of her pure blue eyes and flawless appearance, the teachers never once suspected her of wrong-doing. Hannah’s fixation diminished once she learned how vindictive Madeline was; suddenly the girl did not look so beautiful anymore.
As Hannah watched the alluring Lady Lucinda Fairfax float into the drawing room, she wondered if this beauty, too, possessed a malevolence. That had sadly been Hannah’s experience of exquisitely attractive people and it set her on a vibe of cynicism. She hoped that Lucinda was as kind as her superficial appearance suggested – they were similar in age and perhaps might become friends.
Hannah watched as the old companions greeted one another and realised moments later that she must have been gawping at the young lady, astonished by her level of beauty. Quickly snapping herself from the reverie, Hannah looked to Caleb, quite sure he too would be staring in awe at the stunning specimen of femininity who had graced the room with her presence.
But he was not. Caleb was staring at Hannah and there was an intensity to his gaze. Caleb had seen how Hannah had been overwhelmed by the young lady and he felt fiercely protective of her at that moment – it wounded him to see her face of disappointment; knowing that she felt inferior and compared herself unfairly.
Hannah started slightly to see Caleb looking at her so intently but was summoned back into the action as Anne unexpectedly linked arms with her, pulling her closely in, and introducing her to their guests.
‘But you haven’t met my daughter-in-law! Her Grace, Hannah, Duchess of Montwood! She and my son were married just yesterday, but of course, you will have heard the news…!’
Hannah floundered – this was the first time Anne had shown any semblance of warmth or welcome. It was the only time she had referred to Hannah with any kind of title and it seemed as though she announced her with something resembling pride.
Hannah stepped forward dutifully, extending her hand and curtseying, firstly as Lord Edward Fairfax was introduced and kissed her hand, then as she met Lady Beatrice Fairfax and they exchanged curtsies and then faced with the beautiful young woman…
‘Lady Lucinda Fairfax!’ Anne sang as if she were announcing a member of royalty.
Hannah curtsied and they exchanged pleasantries regarding how lovely it was to make each others’ acquaintance.
It all suddenly made sense to Hannah – how Anne had spoken so highly of Lucinda over breakfast and how Caleb had whisked her away so she didn’t have to hear it. Lucinda was not some darling infant child – Lucinda was the lady who Anne clearly hoped would have been Caleb’s wife.
With a façade of smiles, Lucinda’s eyes roamed Hannah’s face, as if figuring out what it was there that had claimed Hannah the Duke of Montwood as her husband. Hannah dipped her eyes, knowing she would be considered inadequate. She cursed herself internally as she felt her face blushing. She felt certain that Caleb would have had romantic ideals about Lucinda – he had declared to her himself that their union was purely a formality. Here, Hannah decided, was the woman who rightfully should have been his wife.
Hannah’s mind went into fantastical prophesy – Caleb would escort Hannah with a solemn arm to a formal dance and abandon her with some stuffy business colleagues while he sneaked off to find the glorious Lucinda in some blossoming garden, where they would passionately kiss under a magnolia tree. Caleb would cradle his true love in his arms, lamenting about the torturous partnership he was obliged to uphold with Hannah – how she was a bore and so ugly in comparison to Lucinda, who dazzled him with her beauty.
Hannah wanted only to turn from the room and run to her bedchamber, but she had a role to perform and a reputation to uphold.
The old friends had much to discuss, although it seemed to Hannah all rather superficial and nothing of any great depth was discussed, but all the same, it allowed her to sit in relative silence as they ate meat and potatoes in butter sauce.
