“He does this,” Charlotte explained, her eyes trained on him in a solemn, quiet manner. “He must be nearing the end.”
“Go back to bed. I will wait up with him.”
They left the room, but Charlotte returned moments later with a chair from our bedchamber. She placed it beside mine and sat, pulling my hand into her own and squeezing. It was a show of support and solidarity that placed her beyond her seventeen years. I would have mourned for her loss of innocence if I had not also been mourning for my own self.
We sat together in the quiet, listening to Noah’s horrid breathing. She broke the silence, her hoarse whisper a testament of the tears that I could not see in the dim light. “What are we to do, Elsie? Where are we to go?”
I cleared my throat, sitting as tall as I could as though my fine posture would infuse me with strength. I could not mention the house party yet, nor my lack of engagement. “The cottage is not entailed,” I said. “We will have to wait and see what is written in Noah’s will.”
If there was one, I added silently to myself. I knew that Noah dealt with the same man of business in London as my father had, but I could not imagine there was anything left to pass on. If there was, I could only hope he had found a way to pass it to Charlotte.
My eyelids grew heavy, my body too exhausted to force them open. My head drooped onto my shoulder a few times and I jerked awake, but the specter of sleep was far too powerful and I soon found myself fast asleep.
Waking up to a bright stream of sunlight in my eye, I felt foreboding heavy in my body. Drawing a deep breath, I rose on stiff limbs and approached the bed. The lack of movement beneath Noah’s blanket was fortelling, yet I found my breath catch as my gaze rested on his pale, tranquil face. The still form of my lifeless brother was not a picture I imagined I would forget in my entire life. I squeezed my eyes closed, blocking his figure and the guilt I felt, for a certain degree of strain had lifted itself from my person and I did not pretend for a moment that it was not a relief to be rid of Noah’s stifling, angry presence.
He was a slave to drink in this life, yet he was now free from the binding dependence of his craving.
I leaned forward to pull the sheet over Noah’s face before Charlotte could awaken and forever have the pale, cold image burned into her brain.
I shuddered, the shadows that had lined his face telling a dark story I did not feel inclined to closely examine.
I sat in the still quiet of the room, the wear of the furniture evident in the light of morning. A rustling beside me alerted me to Charlotte’s awakening and I put my arm around her to pull her into an embrace.
“Is he gone?” she asked.
I nodded. “He is dead.”
We held one another for a few minutes before I let out a breath of air and relaxed my shoulders.
“Let us go. I will find Finn.”
Chapter 24
The church yard was full of pitying glances and sorrowful gazes. Not many people knew Noah, but Charlotte and I had been welcomed into Linshire’s polite society openly when we moved here and had gained a decent following of supportive friends. The funeral had been well-attended, considering Noah’s lack of connection, and Charlotte and I had felt supported by our small community. A fortnight later, the looks of support remained numerous, but the questioning faces were more in abundance. It seemed the people of Linshire were prodigiously curious about our state of affairs.
None of them could wish to know more than I did how things would come about. I could only hope they never discovered the scandal that erupted upon my leaving of Bancroft Hill. That felt an impossible wish the way gossip traveled among society, but I did hope that Charlotte and I were able to settle our affairs before the truth of the house party reached my small country parish.
I looked down at the front of my gown. Perhaps I was wrong entirely and the stares had nothing to do with Noah’s death and everything to do with our black gowns. Made from older gowns, I had dyed them black and thrown them together with such haste, I was sure we looked a fright. No, Charlotte would look beautiful in anything. There was nothing frightening about her appearance. She simply had that talent. I, on the other hand, looked as pale as the ghost we were mourning.
“Miss Hurst approached me earlier to say that we are welcome at Corden Hall if we desire the company,” Charlotte said as we stepped from the churchyard toward our home. “She does not want to impose upon our grief, but she has plenty of room and urged me to convince you that it would be a good idea to go and stay with her.”
If there was any woman who could comprehend the fear of my situation, it was Miss Hurst. She had recently suffered a scandal of her own when the news was spread about Linshire that she was the illegitimate child of her father’s false marriage. He had previously wed another woman in France and it was not discovered until Miss Hurst’s debut Season in London.
I could not trust Charlotte with the information of my broken engagement, for she was sure to panic unnecessarily and she needn’t manage her grief and my troubles as well. That I had successfully put off any conversations about the house party was a feat in itself. But I might find an ally in Miss Hurst. And I did long to talk of my experience with another.
“It would be good to remove ourselves from our brother’s house,” I agreed, shocking my sister. “I will direct Finn to start packing our belongings.” What few belonging we had, anyway. There was precious little left in the house.
We turned on the road past the High Street, following the trail of doors until we reached our own cottage. We had no known relatives left besides Aunt Mary, and I was going to do my utmost to remain far away from her oppressive home.
“Shall I write to Miss Hurst and accept?”
“Right away,” I said, leaving Charlotte, that I might hide away in our shared bedchamber. Neither of us had the spirit to claim Noah’s bedchamber quite yet.
I sat upon the edge of our bed, pulling a folded letter from my waistband and running my finger over the ridged wax seal. I didn’t need to read it again. I had read its contents five or six times already, the sting worsening with each read. Mr. Bancroft had cited my dishonesty as his cause for terminating our engagement. Of course, we’d had no written agreement, for my brother could not be called upon to agree to a dowry, and therefore no legal action could be taken on my part.
I was not surprised, really. I had fully expected this course of events.
That did not make them easier to bear.
Though I would be lying if I did not admit, at least to myself, that I was relieved to be excused from the engagement. How I was going to tell Charlotte that I had let her down, however, was another story.
I had already written to my father’s man of business in London and inquired about Noah’s business dealings, but had yet to receive a reply. If it was only myself at stake, I would be content to wait patiently and determine my course of action as it came. As it was, Charlotte had approached the proper age of come out and had nothing to say for it. She deserved a proper chance among Society. For her sake, the waiting was difficult to bear.
I squeezed my eyes shut. When had life become such a jumble of difficult situations?
“I’ve sent Jimmy with a note to Corden Hall,” Charlotte said, letting herself into the bedroom and dropping onto the bed beside me. “I suppose we ought to have Emma begin packing. I anticipate an invitation to arrive by tomorrow.”
I nodded. “Miss Hurst is kind. I am grateful for her consideration, but we must be certain that we do not take advantage of her compassion.”
“Of course we will not take advantage of her. Only, I cannot help but think that it does not bother her. She never seemed put out by my presence while you attended the house party.”
I stilled. It was the first time she had mentioned the party. I moved on, hoping she would not inquire further. “There are many who act polite but secretly feel put out, Lottie.”
Her nose scrunched up. “I feel that Miss Hurst is not playacting, though.”
I sighed, grateful. She had not asked about Mr. Bancroft. “I am inclined to agree.”
Miss Hurst was indeed hasteful in her request that we join her in her home. She offered use of her carriage, but we declined, for we could still, for the present at least, claim ownership of our own. Thus we packed our things and removed to Corden Hall the following day. I requested that any letters were to be sent to me directly, and Finn seemed to understand the urgency of my wish.
We arrived at Corden Hall with the sun peeking out between wispy white clouds. It was the first blue sky I had seen since arriving home to Shropshire. Could it mean that there was hope to be had for our future? I would like to think so, but the realistic part of me panicked very much for Charlotte.
“I am glad you’ve come,” Miss Hurst said, welcoming us into the foyer of Corden Hall. “Allow Mrs. Lewis to show you to your rooms and then I shall meet you in the Morning Room for tea.”
We followed the short, white-haired housekeeper up the stairs and to the right. A cat ran past my feet that we’d frightened from the shadows and I swallowed a screech. I recalled Charlotte’s description of Miss Hurst’s animals. It would take some growing used to, to be sure.
“We have placed you in the same room,” Mrs. Lewis said to Charlotte, directing her to a bedchamber done over in rose silk and tasteful furniture.
“Mrs. Wheeler, if you would follow me,” Mrs. Lewis said, “we have prepared a room for you further down the hall.”
We passed two doors before coming to a stop near an open bedchamber. It was as simple and lovely as the room Charlotte inhabited, only in a pale blue that I quite liked. Emma was already inside unpacking my trunk, and I thanked Mrs. Lewis before moving to join my maid.
The window revealed a beautiful view of the surrounding countryside, the stables to the side and a clear view of the paddock used for training the horses. Mr. Bryce, engaged to marry Miss Hurst and employed as her steward, operated a business breeding and training horses. He was in the paddock now, leading along a beautiful mare.
“You have the better view,” Charlotte said, bounding into my room and settling herself on my bed. “But I believe I can claim the more comfortable bed. I received the better end of the deal, to be sure.”
I leaned on the windowsill, looking past Mr. Bryce at the bustling stables and the rich, green hills beyond. Corden Hall was a home teeming with life and joy. Without the knowledge, one would not even know of Miss Hurst’s scandals or the shame that clung to her family and caused stuffy older people to turn up their noses at her in the churchyard on Sundays. She was absolutely an example that I wanted to pattern myself after and I needed to obtain a private conference with her if I was going to ask for advice.
“How did you fill your days when I was gone?” I questioned, turning from the window.
Charlotte shrugged. “In the normal ways. We made some calls. But mostly Miss Hurst, Mrs. Overton and I found ways to entertain ourselves. They have a beautiful garden and a stable full of absolutely brilliant horses. Mr. Bryce allowed me use of several of them. Can you credit it?”
“I can well believe that he quickly became your favorite person.”
Her grin broadened and my heart leaped. I had yet to see such unabashed joy on her face since my return home. It did my soul good to see her happiness.
Emma completed my unpacking and excused herself to see to Charlotte’s room.
“Shall we join Miss Hurst downstairs now?” Charlotte asked, eager. I would have found myself jealous if I had not felt similarly anxious.
“Yes, let us go down.”
Chapter 25
We remained at Corden Hall for a week before Jimmy, our errand boy, delivered a thick letter that had arrived at Noah’s cottage addressed to me.
Excusing myself from Charlotte, Miss Hurst, and Mrs. Overton, I removed to the drawing room and closed the door securely behind me. Lowering myself into a chair near the window, I tore open the seal and devoured the contents of the letter quickly.
It was from Mr. Lynch, Noah’s solicitor. He began by apologizing profusely for the delay, but he had run into a snag and had to do some research into the contents of Noah’s will before he could take further action. He explained that he would be arriving in Linshire in a week’s time to read and execute the will, and both myself and Charlotte were invited to be present.
I dropped the letter in my lap, directing my gaze to the front drive and the bustle of servants there. A carriage was being directed to the rear of the house and I watched Mr. Bryce walk with a stable hand, leading a horse toward the stables behind the carriage. At this rate they would need to build more stalls. The place was near to bursting as it was.
Glancing down at the letter, I read the contents again. What could it mean? The implications were clear. If Mr. Lynch needed to come and speak to us about the will then that implied there was something worth saying. If there was nothing to inherit, he would have simply informed me of our eviction date and been done with the matter.
Hope sprung in my chest. Could it be? If there was a way to inherit the cottage and enough of an income to perhaps remain there, then Charlotte and I were not destitute. We could remain in Linshire and the home we had grown used to.
A smile spread over my lips as I glanced back out the window. The blue sky spread over Corden Hall with felicitations and I stood, prepared to walk about the gardens and soak in the warm sunshine. I would grasp onto this hope with every shred of strength I possessed.
“I have missed that smile something fierce these last few weeks.”
I turned abruptly, my voice cracking under my shock. “Lord Stallsbury!”
His grin was wide, his dark eyes searching mine from the drawing room door. His attire was wrinkled and his hair a mess. His luscious, dark hair. My heart pounded in my chest and my hands trembled. When had he ever had such an effect on me?
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “How did you know where to find me?”
He stepped closer, but then paused as though remembering our scandal. He cleared his throat, glancing to the window behind me. “It was easy to deduce from the village. I have brought you your horse, Mrs. Wheeler.”
I shook my head slowly. “After all that occurred, surely you must have realized I would not hold you to our bargain.”
“We made an agreement, Mrs. Wheeler. And I am a man of my word.”
I looked into his chocolate eyes as I said the words to him I had yet to admit aloud to anyone else. “Mr. Bancroft cancelled our engagement, my lord. The agreement is void.”
No surprise crossed his features and I felt a heavy weight fall upon my shoulders. The letter aside, part of me had hoped that Mr. Bancroft would find it within himself to void the cancellation. A small piece of me had still wanted to become mistress of Bancroft Hill, though I knew in the deepest recesses of my heart that a larger part had cheered when the marriage was cancelled and I was free from Mr. Bancroft’s sudden mood alterations.
“You do not seem overly depressed,” Lord Stallsbury said, stepping closer. He was within an arm’s reach now and my hand itched to stretch forth and graze his own, if only to confirm that he was real. I glanced behind him but the hall remained empty.
I clasped my hands together before me. It wouldn’t be right to touch him, though the urge to do so was almost overwhelming.
“And yet,” he added, “you wear black.”
He had not heard of Noah’s death, then. “My brother,” I explained.
He nodded, his head tilting in sorrow. The string of understanding that connected us pulled taut. “I had assumed as much,” he said. “I am sorry for your loss. Though I know he struggled, I cannot imagine this is an easy time for you.”
With the unknowns, it was difficult indeed. I shook my head. “Indeed, it would not be so bad if I had only myself to worry for.”
“Will you accept my condolences, Mrs. Wheeler?”
He inched forward and my breath grew shallow. Could this man sense my increased heart
rate? Was it apparent? I stepped back and my leg hit the chair. I was trapped. After the trouble at Bancroft Hill, I was surprised that he would place me in so compromising a position.
“My lord,” I said quietly. “Please, allow me to introduce you to my sister and my hostess. I believe if we are caught alone it can do nothing but harm my reputation further and I fear for the recompense.”
His eyes hardened and his mouth drew into a firm line. “Have the rumors reached Shropshire then?”
I shook my head. “But they will eventually, and this could only make matters worse.”
He took a large step back. The space allowed me room to breathe, and I filled my lungs. I stepped around him, gingerly holding my breath the moment I passed his strong form. “Follow me.”
He did so obediently and I took him to the Morning Room where the women still sat around the sofa in pleasant chatter, with various forms of needlework to occupy them. Charlotte noticed our presence first.
“Eleanor!” she exclaimed. Her eyes widened as they ran up Lord Stallsbury’s length.
“Lord Stallsbury,” I enunciated clearly, to Miss Hurst’s apparent shock, “allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Charlotte Clarke, our hostess, Miss Hurst, and her companion, Mrs. Overton.”
He bowed to each of the women, coming to stop on Miss Hurst. “We are acquainted,” he said. “How do you do, madam?”
“I am well,” she responded. “Though it has been years, my lord. I’ve recently had the pleasure of Rosalynn and Lord Cameron’s company, however.”
He nodded. “And they were well, I assume?”
“Quite well. Rosalynn brought her horde of children with her.”
His smile was lopsided, the first of which I’d seen from him. It was endearing, and genuine. “Rambunctious lot.”
Miss Hurst grinned. “I quite agree.” She stood, facing him with her hands clasping her needlework. “Can I tempt you to stay, Lord Stallsbury, or do you go to London now?”
Love at the House Party: A Regency Romance (Women of Worth Book 3) Page 16