He offered his hand. She placed hers within his, and together they turned back toward the door. They had pledged their lives to one another. Now it was time to begin that shared life. And though she could not yet be certain, she dared to wonder—might it prove as comfortable as she had begun to believe?
Chapter Five
The scent of toasted bread and orange marmalade greeted Catherine as she stepped into the breakfast room. Morning sunlight filtered through the tall windows, illuminating the polished wood floors and the quiet, ordered elegance of Penwood’s domestic life with a cool clarity.
At the far end of the table, Marcus sat surrounded by a neat arrangement of correspondence, a folded newspaper, and a silver teapot already steaming. He looked up as she entered and stood at once, setting aside his pen.
“Good morning,” he said.
Catherine gave him a polite but warm smile.
“Good morning,” she said in return.
She moved toward her place, noting that the footman had already laid a cup and saucer beside the covered dishes. Marcus motioned to a servant behind him, who stepped forward and poured tea into her cup. At her plate rested the small glass jar of plum preserves she preferred, beside a basket of warm rolls.
I specifically requested this be served at our wedding breakfast,she thought, surprised.
“You remembered,” she said softly.
Marcus shrugged.
“I observed,” he said. “It seemed a modest effort, given the number of things you must now adjust to.”
His words, plain as they were, held something more. Catherine took her seat.
“Nevertheless, I am grateful,” she said.
He shrugged again, more sheepishly, folding the morning sheet and setting it aside.
“The steward sent the revised inventory for the west orchard,” he said. “The figures for the expected yield differ from those of last autumn. I suspect a late frost has unsettled the count, though Garrett mentioned possible poaching near the north gate.”
Catherine’s brow furrowed slightly.
Would it be useful to compare last year’s weather records with this season’s estate journal?” she asked.
Marcus nodded.
“I had not thought of that,” he said. “We keep weather logs with the agricultural notes. I shall ask Garrett to bring them to the study.”
They ate in companionable quiet for several moments before Marcus returned to the topic at hand.
“As for the Society gathering, I asked Mrs Thornberry to place the visiting scholars in the north wing,” he said. “It offersdistance from the family quarters, and the view of the gardens may keep them in good humour despite the inevitable disorder of unpacking trunks full of manuscripts.”
Catherine nodded thoughtfully.
“Will any of them bring artefacts for discussion?” she asked.
Her husband returned her nod.
“Several have already sent word,” he said. “Some intend to present new findings, so I shall need the larger drawing room cleared and rearranged for the occasion.”
Catherine gave an affirmative tip of her head.
“I shall speak with the housekeeper after breakfast,” she said. “And I should like to prepare a formal tea for that afternoon, if you think it suitable.”
Marcus smiled, mimicking her gesture of approval.
“I do,” he said.
