Hunters

X. Home

X. Home

The travelling had been broken up by bouts of riding in the mornings, stopping for tea shortly after noon, and resting in the carriage until suitable accommodations could be found. It had been about a week’s worth of travel from London; Martis was just coming into view, or, at least, the walled property line was.

What Lecia had seen of the duchy was quite impressive. Everything was maintained well and the people had looked on their procession with pride and admiration. It appeared to her that Vaughan really was a generous lord who had earned enormous respect from his people. She suddenly felt reassured that he would follow through with her request to become more charitable, though she hadn’t realized that there had been any lingering apprehension about it.

It was midday as they rode through the gates. The actual estate was fenced with dry stone and hidden by the growth of trees along the walls. They trotted down the palace road, carefully planted pines lining the way until the cobbled path widened and split to allow extensive traffic. With the trees gone, the vast green fields and pastures came into view. At the center of the roundabout was an ornate fountain that seemed to be turned off, though the golden fish living in it were very much alive. There was so much to see and Lecia wasn’t sure where to look, but the growing palace was becoming impossible to ignore.

Martis was the most impressive thing she had ever seen. Buckingham and Windsor were both remarkable structures, but Martis’ sheer size and inescapable beauty—perhaps enhanced by the natural splendor surrounding it—were so breathtaking Lecia had to pull Wick to a halt. They were still at least half a mile away from the entrance, but she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Not only was she in awe of the architecture, even from the distance, but also she was suddenly incredulous that this would be her home.

“We haven’t even arrived yet,” Vaughan said after a moment of stillness. “Come on,” he called as he rode off.

Lecia marched forward, taking in the quiet landscape of the park, and then preparing herself to see the palace up close. When they finally reached the wrought iron front gate, it was already open; it was nestled in the center of shrubbery fencing that sectioned off the great court of the palace from the rest of the property. She briefly wondered why the roundabout was necessary since the space could easily accommodate a large number of guests’ carriages. As they rode through the center, she viewed craftsmen in the right court and bustling maids in the left; the left wing of the palace was to lodge the staff, and the right wing was for the livestock. In the center, though, was the heart of the palace.

When they stopped and dismounted, grooms were immediately prepared to take their horses. Behind great, white columns, a two-story door was opened and a line of servants filed out and down the steps to welcome their master home. Lecia stood, captivated by the pageant, with Vaughan’s arm tucked into hers. As their carriage pulled in behind them, some maids rushed to unload the luggage while the rest formed a track for their Duke and his new wife to pass through. Vaughan led Lecia forward and she curiously peered at some of the people on staff; their heads were bowed, but she would learn their faces some day.

An older man and a middle-aged woman waited at the top of the steps. Vaughan stopped Lecia and smiled at the two strangers.

“My dear,” he said to Lecia, “this is Bartholomew Grosschalk, our Steward, and Orpha McManus, the Housekeeper. If you’re ever in need of something, don’t hesitate to call either of them and they’ll be sure to take care of it for you. Bart, Orpha, this is Lecia, our new Duchess.”

She was met with a “Your Grace” and a bow from each of them. When she was upright again, Orpha called for one of the girls in line and she came quickly to join them.