Chapter 2: Lady Rathcliffe.

There was a soft but deliberate knock at my door.

I had barely slept.

The unfamiliar ceiling, the vastness of the bed, the silence that felt too heavy for comfort. It had all pressed down on me like a weight through the night.

“Good morning, Lady Rathcliffe.”

The voice was gentle, careful.

I sat up slowly, pushing the covers back as pale morning light filtered through the tall windows. For a moment, I did not remember where I was.

Then it all came rushing back.

The manor.

The study.

William’s cold dismissive expression at dinner except when looking at Katherine and David.

The word bride echoing in my ears reminding me of Lord Rathcliffe's declaration in his study.

“Come in,” I said, my voice still thick with exhaustion.

The door opened and an elderly woman stepped inside, closing it quietly behind her. She bowed her head respectfully. Her hair was neatly pinned beneath a modest cap, her brown eyes observant but kind.

“I am Emma, ma'am. I will be attending to you.”

I groaned softly and pressed a hand to my forehead.

“No, please,” I said gently. “Call me Belle.”

She blinked, startled by the informality.

“That would not be proper, ma'am.”

“Then let it be improper,” I replied, offering a faint smile. “I would much prefer Belle.”

A warm smile tugged at her lips despite her effort to remain composed.

“As you wish… Belle.”

The way she said it felt like a small victory.

“The children are awake and asking for you,” she continued.

My heart softened immediately.

“Asking for me?” I asked.

“Yes. Miss Katherine insisted on waiting near the stairs in case you descended early.”

Something inside my chest tightened.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and stood, taking in the room properly in daylight. The bed was draped in heavy cream linens. The wardrobe stood tall against the wall, polished and imposing.

Mr. Rathcliffe had indeed gifted me a new wardrobe.

I had spent nearly an hour last night simply opening and closing the wardrobe doors in disbelief. Dresses in fine fabrics I had never dared to touch before. Silk. Satin. Velvet. Shades of emerald, sapphire, deep burgundy.

It felt less like generosity and more like inventory.

“You must allow me to help you dress,” Emma said gently, stepping toward the wardrobe.

I hesitated.

“I have dressed myself for fifteen years.”

“And now,” she replied carefully, selecting a pale blue morning gown, “you are the lady of the manor. It would cause comment if you descended without proper presentation.”

Comment.

Already I was learning that this house thrived on observation.

I allowed her to assist me.

Her hands were efficient but not unkind as she laced the back of my gown. The corset tightened around my ribs, forcing me upright.

I stared at my skinny figure due to those nights without supper. My face was pale as if I'd been haunted these last few years. My eyes were sunken due to the lack of sleep since my decision to marry Lord Rathcliffe.

My sisters Aubrey, Alice and Edith cried when my father told them the news. Edith my youngest sister did not leave my side until I got into my carriage to come here.

Aubrey was enraged. She was a year younger than me. My confidante. She understood that this was not a love match but a deal that could save all of them. She promised not to forgive me but I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself if they went hungry one more night because of me.

I had already missed all of them.

The feeling of the last breaths being involuntarily drawn from my lungs got me to snap out of it. “You need not pull so tightly,” I murmured. When I realized Emma was still tightening the strings at my dress.

“My apologies. The previous lady preferred it so.”

The previous lady.

I caught her eye in the mirror.

“What was she like?” I asked quietly.

Emma paused for only a fraction of a second.

“She was… very quiet.” There was something unspoken in the way she said it.

“Was she happy?” I pressed.

Emma’s fingers stilled completely now.

“I believe so. Lord Rathcliffe used to be different in his younger days.”

She seemed uncomfortable and I didn't want to press any further.

Once dressed, I took a steadying breath and descended the grand staircase. Just as I reached the bottom, William appeared at the foot of the stairs, ascending toward me.

He moved with effortless confidence, one hand lightly brushing the banister. His white shirt was fitted and crisp, sleeves rolled slightly at the forearms. His dark hair was still faintly damp, as though he had washed in haste.

He did not look at me at first.

“Good morning, William,” I said politely.

He walked past me.

No pause.

No acknowledgment.

Perhaps he had not heard me.

Or perhaps he had.

The faint scent of soap and something sharper lingered in the air after he passed.

I exhaled slowly and continued toward the dining room.

“Belle!” Katherine and David called in unison the moment I stepped inside.

Their enthusiasm was startlingly sincere.

“Good morning, little ones,” I replied, smiling despite the heaviness in my chest.

Lord Rathcliffe sat at the head of the table, newspaper open before him like a shield.

He did not look up.

I took my seat quietly.

The footman began serving breakfast with mechanical precision. The clinking of cutlery filled the silence. “Belle,” Katherine said eagerly, leaning slightly toward me, “perhaps you and I could explore the gardens after breakfast?”

Her eyes shone with hope.

“That sounds lovely,” I said warmly.

Before I could say more, the newspaper snapped sharply as it hit the table.

“You will do no such thing.” Lord Rathcliffe’s voice cut through the room like winter wind.

“Katherine, your embroidery could use considerable improvement. Your tutor has described your work as subpar at best.” Katherine’s face flushed crimson.

I frowned faintly. She had shown me the small handkerchief she had embroidered yesterday at dinner. It was delicate and surprisingly neat for her age.

“Belle is proficient in embroidery,” he continued without looking at me. “She will oversee your practice.”

“Yes, Papa,” Katherine said quietly.

She rose from her seat and handed me a small metal container.

I opened it carefully.

Inside were threads of various colors, needles, scraps of fabric and small treasures tucked between them. A carved wooden horse. A ribbon. A smooth pebble.

And beneath it all, a small portrait. A woman with soft eyes and dark hair pinned elegantly at her nape.

Katherine looked strikingly like her.

“Sorry,” Katherine said quickly, reaching for it. “I forgot I left that in there.”

“She was beautiful,” I said softly. "Just like you." Katherine smiled shyly.

“Yes. She sang to us every night.”

“Katherine.”Lord Rathcliffe’s voice was sharp.“David. Prepare yourselves for lessons.”They left the table immediately.

The room felt colder without them.

“Why were you late this morning?” Lord Rathcliffe demanded without preamble.

I blinked.

“I apologize, Lord Rathcliffe. I did not sleep

well. The house is… unfamiliar.”

“Then familiarize yourself,” he said evenly. “and do it fast. If you are late again, there will be consequences. You are the lady of this house. I expect you to act like it.”

“I am sorry.”

“And another thing.” His gaze lifted to mine.

“Refrain from mentioning my late wife in front of my children.”

“I meant no disrespect," I stuttered.

“I do not care what you meant,” he replied coolly. “Keep your opinions to yourself.”

He stood abruptly and left the dining room.

Silence settled heavily once more.

Moments later, William entered. He grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl without sparing me a glance.Was he deliberately ignoring me?

“Good morning, William,” I tried again.

Silence.

He looked up at me slowly. His lips parted, teeth sinking into the apple without breaking eye contact. The sharp sound of the bite felt deliberate, provocative. Juice glistened briefly at the corner of his mouth as he chewed, unhurried, watching me like he was measuring my reaction. The simple gesture felt like a challenge.

Like he was reminding me that he could crush me if he chose to.

My stomach tightened.

The door opened and his gaze flickered away. Emma entered, carrying a pastry tray.

"Good morning, Mr. Rathcliffe."

"Good morning, Emma." He smiled warmly at her. He gave me one last glare as he left the room.

I let out a breath. "Emma,” I called gently.

“Yes, Belle?”

She set the pastries aside and approached.“Would you perhaps teach me how to navigate the structure of this household?” I asked.

Her lips twitched slightly.

“That is a dangerous request.”

“How so?”

“Because once you know how it functions, you will see how rigid it truly is.”

I leaned back in my chair.

“Tell me anyway.”She glanced toward the doorway to ensure we were alone.

“Lord Rathcliffe values punctuality above warmth,” she began. “Breakfast at eight precisely. Lessons begin at nine. Luncheon at one. Supper at seven.”

“And William?” his name fell from my lips without thought and Emma hesitated.

“Mr. William keeps his own schedule."

“It's not what I'm asking," I said quickly.

"Then what are you asking?" She asked carefully. There was a moment of silence and Emma studied me for that moment. “May I speak freely?

“Please.”

“You must not expect kindness from Lord Rathcliffe. But neither should you expect cruelty. So long as you remain within the boundaries he has set.”

“And if I do not?”

Her expression grew serious.

“He will remind you.”

A chill ran through me.

“You seem to have the children's favor," she said in a warmer tone.

"Not all," I said under my breath. Emma’s expression softened. “William was very devoted to his mother you can't blame the lad for feeling like his father replaced her.”

“I do not wish to replace anyone.”

“I know,” she said quietly. “But he does not.”

I stared down at the embroidery box still resting in my lap.

“Do you think he hates me?”

Emma considered her answer. “He does not know you yet,” she said carefully. “Hatred requires understanding.”

That offered little comfort.

“What do the servants think?” I asked.

Emma gave a small huff of amusement.

“They are curious. Some believe you came for comfort. Others believe you were sold.”

I flinched at the bluntness.

“And you?” I asked softly.Emma met my eyes.

“I think you look like a girl trying very hard not to cry.”

My throat tightened unexpectedly.

“I cannot afford to cry.”

“No,” she agreed gently. “But you may afford to breathe.”

For the first time since arriving, I felt something loosen inside me.

“Thank you, Emma.”

She smiled.

“You will learn quickly, Belle."

“Yes,” I whispered. “I don't have any other choice."

From somewhere upstairs, I heard Katherine’s laughter drift faintly down the corridor. For a moment, the manor felt less like a prison. But as I rose from my seat, a chill crept up my spine. Somewhere within its cold walls, I knew Blue eyes were watching.

And waiting.

Waiting to sink into me like I was nothing more than a defenseless apple.