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Eliza had planned to explore the woodlands on foot in a week or two, but at present every time she approached the outdoors, the staff grew visibly anxious, as if they feared she would have another foolish idea and injure herself again.

All she wanted to do was explore the woods and check that John was alright.

But that was it. Eat. Dance. Explore. Repeat. She had not been alone with Arthur since their conversation in her bedchamber, and she suspected that had been entirely by his design.

She had thought he would have sought her out by now to consummate the marriage. But he had not darkened her door in the slightest. In fact, aside from a few pleasantries over breakfast and dinner, she had barely spoken to him, and she did not know what to make of this silence.

She recalled the last time she saw him: an afternoon after the orchestra had packed away their instruments and the ballroom had once again fallen quiet. Eliza wandered into the great foyer.

The afternoon sun streamed through the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, eager to reclaim the ballroom after so many hours of banishment, bathing the marble beneath her bare feet in golden light. The musicians had long since departed, yet she could still hear the symphony playing in her mind.

Humming softly to herself, she counted beneath her breath.

"One... two... three..."

Gathering the white tulle of her skirts, she twirled.

Again.

This time her feet found the steps with far greater confidence than they had only days before, and her footing only faltered once.

"Oh!" she laughed quietly. "That was almost graceful." The sound echoed through the entrance hall as movement above caught her attention.

Arthur.

He was crossing the gallery with a leather portfolio tucked beneath one arm, Mr Ellis following faithfully behind.

Without thinking, she lifted a hand.

"Good afternoon, Arthur!"

He stopped. Only briefly.

Looking down over the balustrade, he inclined his head.

"Good afternoon, Duchess."

Then he continued on his way. Mr Ellis followed without a word.

Eliza's hand slowly fell back to her side, and she considered that a win, as it was more than she had received previously. He may not have stopped to discuss the weather, but it was a start.

Taking a steadying breath, she returned to the centre of the foyer.

"One... two... three..."

She danced until the music in her head finally faded.

The days slipped by in much the same fashion.

Each morning she danced. Each afternoon she explored another corner of Winworth.

She learned which staircases creaked beneath the third step, where the afternoon sun lingered longest, and which members of staff always seemed to have a story ready if she paused long enough to ask. Mrs Clapton had reluctantly accepted that the Duchess was determined to know every servant by name. The footmen had begun smiling when they saw her coming.

Even Cook had taken to slipping her an extra sweet bun after luncheon when she passed the kitchens on her adventures.

A week ago, whilst she and Vinnie were exploring the picture gallery, two enormous trunks were carried into her bedchamber. She hardly gave them a second glance until Vinnie let out a delighted squeal that echoed down the corridor.

"Your Grace!" she gasped. "Come quickly!"