My Bratty Wife
Chapter 208 - Two Hundred And Eight

Chapter 208: Chapter Two Hundred And Eight

Suzy leaned her head back against the cushioned seat, the rhythmic rumble of the wheels a soothing sound after the urgency and tension of the past few weeks. Relief washed over her, the simple relief of nearing the chateau, yet it was tinged with the lingering anxiety for Ryan, recuperating miles away. She was tired, a deep weariness that settled in her bones, not only from the long journey, but from the emotional weight she carried.

As the carriage rolled to a stop on the gravel forecourt, Suzy saw them waiting – a small gathering of familiar faces standing patiently on the steps. Mrs. Agnes, the head housekeeper whose presence had been a constant, comforting fixture for Ryan long before Suzy arrived, stood slightly ahead of the others. Maids in crisp grey uniforms and footmen stood respectfully behind her. They had clearly spotted the duchy crest emblazoned on the carriage door.

Before the footman could fully open the door, Noah, who had ridden alongside the carriage, was already there, offering Suzy his steady hand.

"Your Grace," he murmured.

Suzy took his hand, gathering her skirts and stepping down onto the gravel, feeling the slight stiffness in her limbs from sitting for so long.

Immediately, the assembled staff bowed their heads in unison. A soft chorus of voices greeted her, "Welcome back, Your Grace."

Suzy managed a small, tired smile. The formality felt strange after everything. "Please, raise your heads," she requested gently. Her voice was softer than usual.

Mrs. Agnes stepped forward, her kind face filled with concern, though she maintained her professional composure. "Welcome back, Your Grace. We are relieved to see you return safely." She dipped her head slightly.

Suzy reached out instinctively, placing a light hand on the older woman’s arm. "Not you too," she whispered, a touch of warmth entering her voice despite her fatigue. "Raise your head, Mrs. Agnes. Please."

A genuine smile finally broke through Mrs. Agnes’s worried expression. "Of course, my dear," she said softly, straightening up. "It is just good to have you here. We’ve prepared everything. Dinner will be ready shortly, but the Cook has set aside some fresh sponge cake and milk for you in the room while you wait. Something simple."

"Oh, thank you so much, Mrs. Agnes. That sounds wonderful," Suzy murmured, truly appreciative. She began walking towards the entrance, automatically going to the ribbons of the travelling hat she wore. She tugged the bow loose, pulling the hat from her head, her auburn hair slightly mussed from the journey which made her shake her hair loose slightly making some curls drop to her face. Next came the gloves, peeling them off finger by finger, feeling the cool air on her skin. The simple actions felt grounding, like shedding layers of travel dust and worry.

Mrs. Agnes followed closely beside her as they entered the familiar coolness of the chateau’s main hall. The scent of lingering florals filled the air. "The maids have also drawn a warm bath for you in your chambers," Mrs. Agnes continued, her tone practical but deeply caring. "With lavender salts. It should help soothe your muscles after the long carriage ride. Just let Beatrice know when you are ready."

"Thank you again, Mrs. Agnes," Suzy replied, touched by the thoughtfulness. "You always know exactly what’s needed." She turned towards the grand staircase, intending to head straight up to her room.

"He’s alright, isn’t he?"

The question, spoken softly but with an underlying tremor of deep anxiety, stopped Suzy in her tracks at the foot of the stairs. She turned slowly. Mrs. Agnes stood a few feet away, her hands clasped tightly in front of her, her earlier composure replaced by a naked vulnerability. The worry that had flickered in her eyes before was now consuming.

"The Duke... Ryan," Mrs. Agnes clarified, though it wasn’t necessary. "He has been sending letters, yes," she continued, her voice trembling slightly. "Short notes, assuring me he’s perfectly fine, attending to some important investigations these past three weeks. But... I can’t seem to believe it. It feels... too quick. Too neat."

Suzy opened her mouth to offer reassurance, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. How could she explain the terror of finding him wounded, the frantic race to get help, the days spent by his bedside waiting and praying for him to wake up , without causing this dear woman unbearable pain?

Mrs. Agnes looked down at her clasped hands, then back up at Suzy, her gaze piercing. "He has always been this way, you know. Since he was a boy. Always lying to keep others from worrying. Pretending everything was fine when it was anything but that." Her voice grew thick with remembered pain. "Back then, too... when his father..." she hesitated, the memory clearly painful, "when his father did all those horrible things to him... calling it ’training’. Training him to be the next Duke, he said. Ryan just... took it all. Like a good child should. Never cried, never complained where anyone could see."

Tears welled in Mrs. Agnes’s eyes, blurring the lines of the familiar hallway. "Even when he became a teenager, he would write letters to me, forced cheerful little notes, telling me how happy he was to be spending time with his father, how much he was learning, how he was enjoying his stay at the main estate. But I knew. I always knew it was a lie. I could feel it, here." She pressed a hand briefly to her heart. "A mother knows."

She took a hesitant step closer to Suzy, her gaze locking onto hers, pleading. "I know you wouldn’t lie to me, child. Not about this. Not about him. Tell me what truly happened. You wouldn’t have left here in such a desperate hurry, travelled all that way, if it wasn’t desperately important. Something happened to him, didn’t it? What happened to my boy?"

The directness of the question shattered Suzy’s remaining defenses. She knew she owed Mrs. Agnes the truth, or at least, part of it. She took a deep breath, her own voice low and heavy.

"He was attacked, Mrs. Agnes," Suzy said softly. "Someone tried... someone tried to assassinate him."

The words hung in the suddenly still air of the grand hallway. Mrs. Agnes gasped, her hands flying to her mouth, stifling a cry. Her eyes widened in horror, the color draining from her face. She stumbled back a step, one hand reaching out as if to steady herself against an invisible wall. The world seemed to tilt around her. For a moment, she looked as though she might faint.

Suzy quickly stepped forward, placing a steadying hand on her arm. "But he’s fine now," she added quickly, urgently. "Truly. He was injured, yes, but he is recovering. He’s strong. The danger has passed, for now. That’s why I came back, Mrs. Agnes. To let you know, and to... to manage things here while he rests. I assure you, he is doing well. He’s safe."

Mrs. Agnes leaned heavily on Suzy’s arm for a moment, her body trembling. She closed her eyes, tears now flowing freely. She clutched at her chest, taking ragged breaths. "Oh... thank the Lord," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "Thank the merciful Lord." She opened her eyes again, searching Suzy’s face, needing the reassurance. "Truly? He will be alright?"

"Yes," Suzy confirmed, nodding firmly, offering a supportive squeeze to her arm. "He will be alright. He needs rest, but he is out of danger."

Mrs Agnes swayed slightly, and Suzy instinctively holding her, putting a supportive hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright, Mrs. Agnes?" Suzy asked softly.

The older woman nodded, dabbing at her eyes with the corner of her apron. "Yes, child. Yes. Just... the shock. Oh, my poor boy. Always attracting danger." She took another deep breath, trying to compose herself.

As Mrs. Agnes slowly regained her composure, an idea sparked in Suzy’s mind. Mrs. Agnes had known Ryan his entire life. She had seen behind the facade he presented to the world, understood the burdens he carried from his past – burdens Suzy was only beginning to glimpse. What better way to truly understand the man she had married, the man who hid his pain so carefully, than through the eyes of the woman who had been like a mother to him?

"Mrs. Agnes," Suzy began gently, waiting until the older woman met her gaze again. "While we wait for dinner... perhaps after you’ve had a moment... I would be so grateful if you would tell me about him. About Ryan, when he was a child. You mentioned his father... and how he hid things. I want to know more about him. I feel... I need to understand."

A sad, knowing look entered Mrs. Agnes’s eyes. The request seemed to settle her, giving her a purpose amidst the emotional turmoil. She nodded slowly. "Of course, Your Grace," she replied, her voice regaining some of its steadiness. "It would be my honour... and perhaps, my duty... to tell you about Ryan." She managed a watery smile. "Come, let’s go to your chamber. You can have that cake, and I will tell you what I remember."