Though she eats breakfast alone, Alaric begins appearing at dinner more often than not. He isn't talkative during meals, but neither is he cold. Lenore grows used to his quiet nature, and it starts to become comforting. Alaric responds politely when she greets him and asks if his day has gone well, but he doesn't go out of his way to elaborate on his daily tasks. Each small, uneventful encounter with Alaric becomes a silent reassurance for Lenore.
For the first time in years, this feels like a place where she's allowed to simply exist. She doesn't need to be afraid of speaking—afraid of saying the wrong words—the way she was in her uncle's manor.
It's not intentional from Alaric. At least, not that she knows of. Instead, it's simply the kind of person he is. Quiet. Detached from the world. He fulfills his duties as a duke without a thirst for more power than he already has. No, if Lenore has to guess, she believes that he would give up his power if he had the option.
She once read that those who don't seek power often make the best leaders, and seeing Alaric helps her make sense of that, especially after the years she spent watching her uncle abuse his power to benefit himself.
Each time she encounters Alaric, the anxiety she feels from uncertainty melts away a little more, and she tentatively starts to see Barrowmere as her new home.
Her adjustment is aided by the kindness of the servants. Mary works hard to learn the ways of Barrowmere's servants, and she picks up the layout of the manor quicker than Lenore. Meanwhile, Eva brings in junior maids to help tend to her, which gives Mary the chance to have days off—a luxury that Claude hadn't provided for her.
Lily and Viola are bright girls, and Lenore learns that working at the Duke's estate is highly coveted by locals from nearby towns and villages—places close enough to the Duke's land that they struggle to grow food and need to purchase supplies from other towns to survive. If a family is able to have somebody work at the estate, then they won't need to worry about being able to buy food. Alaric is a generous employer, she's told.
It's clear that Lily and Viola want to keep their new jobs, and they go out of their way to be perfect. When Lily fights tears after making a mistake, Lenore simply places her hand on Lily's shoulder.
"It's okay," she says, keeping her voice soft. Calm. "It's natural to make mistakes."
With that, Lily and Viola become more comfortable in their roles.
As for Lenore, settling into the role of a duchess feels more complicated, and she almost wishes she could pick up the role of a maid instead, where expectations are clearer, and the weight of leadership doesn't hang over her. She spends hours in the grand library, scribbling down information from books that she keeps piled on the table around her. When Eva sets down a tray with a steaming teacup and a plate of sweet snacks, Lenore asks, "What makes a good duchess?"
"I haven't served any other duchess," Eva says. "But if I had to say what I think makes a good duchess, it would be someone who cares about the people of her territory and does her best to help them."
Lenore hums in thought. "Alaric already takes care of the people as much as he can."
Eva smiles. "Well, my lady, doesn't that mean that supporting the Duke would make you a good duchess?"
"That makes sense. Thank you, Eva."
With a shallow bow, Eva excuses herself, leaving Lenore alone in the library once again. Alaric has managed the territory on his own for centuries, so Lenore has no idea what sort of support she can give him. Instead, she stares at another empty vase—the same as every other vase in the estate. Though the blight prevents anything from growing, Alaric had ordered the servants to keep the empty vases in place.
Why? Well, that's another story that she hasn't had the chance to learn yet. What she does know is that the vases must be important to him somehow. She also knows that her handiwork is better than Alina's, considering she spent most of her time in her uncle's house working on quiet crafts as she tried to be as unnoticeable as possible, often having to embroider the handkerchiefs Alina wanted to give to a man she fancied.
She returns to her chambers with a sense of purpose, rummaging through the items she brought with her to Barrowmere, knowing that her yarn and knitting needles should be somewhere among them.
-:-
Alaric notices that something has changed, but he's unable to put his finger on what exactly is different. He sits at his desk, ready for another day spent dealing with a stack of documents that never seems to get any shorter. It's when he finishes writing a letter to one of his vassals in a nearby town who asked him for assistance and places on the tray to be sent that he glimpses a touch of color.
The vase on his desk—always empty—has been filled. Not with fresh flowers—flowers don't last on his estate with the blight draining the life from anything that dares bloom. Instead, the vase holds a set of flowers made of thread and tied to sticks. It's unexpected. He never thought of filling the vases with crafted flowers that won't wilt. The empty vases reflected his feelings towards his estate and life—a hollow place where he's trapped alone.
They're cute in their own way, endearing. Charmingly imperfect. It earns a laugh from him, a sound that hasn't been heard in his study for decades. It could only be Lenore's work. It's no coincidence that the knitted flowers appeared only after she moved into the manor, and nobody else would look at the vases and decide to find a way to fill them without real flowers.
When he leaves his study, he notices that it's not the only location where vases are no longer empty. No, Lenore has been busy, and every vase he passes now has its own assortment of her crafted flowers.
The halls feel a touch lighter, and a small smile graces Alaric's lips that refuses to fade.
Perhaps... Perhaps, unlike the others, he won't send Lenore to a distant villa after all. Rather, he's quite interested to see what she comes up with next.