by Aston, Alexa
“Oh, I can drink it this way,” Arthur said.
Dez doubted it but said, “Go ahead and try.”
Bravely, Arthur brought the cup to his lips and took a sip. He scrunched up his face.
“Bleech!”
“See, I told you. Coffee smells delightful but needs something to take the edge off it.” He poured milk into his cup and then spooned some sugar into it. Pushing both toward Arthur, he said, “Try some of both. It will make it quite tasty. I guarantee it,” wondering how Arthur would get out of the situation.
“No, really, Uncle, I think I prefer it black,” his nephew said shakily.
Harry stifled a giggle and scooped some eggs on his fork, stuffing them into his mouth as he watched them.
Dez stirred his coffee, knowing for the prank to succeed he needed to take at least one sip. He brought the cup to his lips, both Arthur’s and Harry’s eyes wide now, watching him anxiously. Dez tilted the cup toward him but kept his lips together. The boys wouldn’t be able to see that he didn’t drink anything and he would save himself from whatever had been placed in his cup.
He quickly lowered the cup, screwing up his face, pushing his tongue out several times as if he tried to rid himself of a foul taste.
“Oh, that’s horrible!” he exclaimed.
Harry started giggling. Arthur waited a moment and then burst out laughing.
Playing along, Dez asked, “Good lord, whatever did you put in it?”
“We didn’t put anything in your coffee,” Arthur said innocently.
“Semantics, Arthur,” he chided. “Nothing was in the coffee itself but something was in the sugar or cream.”
Arthur smiled triumphantly. “You were the one who added those in, Uncle Dez. Not us.”
“So I was,” he said thoughtfully and then began laughing.
“You aren’t mad?” asked Harry carefully.
“No. Just surprised. You got me good,” he said, smiling at his nephews. “And what will happen when your poor mama comes and tries to put cream and sugar into her tea?”
Arthur smiled knowingly. “Mama takes chocolate at breakfast. She doesn’t use cream or sugar.”
Dez nodded admiringly. “You are very clever. The both of you.”
“You really aren’t angry?” Arthur asked. “I’m sure salt in your coffee tasted terrible.” He wrinkled his nose. “Actually, coffee tastes terrible. I don’t know if I’ll ever want to drink it again.”
“No, of course I’m not mad. Your mama and I did far worse things at your age,” he confided.
“You and Mama played pranks on others?” Arthur asked, amazed.
“All the time,” Dez said. “Trouble seemed to follow us wherever we went.”
“You won’t tell on us?” Harry asked.
“Why would I?” he replied.
“Good,” the pair said in unison.
After that, both talked nonstop and he found them to be endearing boys. He would enjoy having them visit him once he settled into his routine at Torville Manor. Dalinda joined them, none the wiser, as Dez winked at them and conversed normally with his sister.
After breakfast, Dalinda walked him down to the stables and clung to him for a moment.
“I hate to let you go,” she said. “We never got to say goodbye that last time and look how many years have passed. I am afraid the same will happen again.”
He smoothed her hair. “There is no one to keep us apart now. No Father. No Ham. Let me settle into my responsibilities and see that things are being run well and I will be back for a visit. I do want the boys to come see me. I would suggest you do, as well, but I know you don’t want to leave Gilford.”
“No, I belong here with him.” Dalinda kissed his cheek. “Take care, Dez. Write to me of all that is going on.”
“I will.”
A groom brought his horse and Dez swung into the saddle. With a wave, he rode out from the yard.
And toward the estate that now was his.
Chapter Seven
Torville Manor—May
Dez finished looking over the papers Paul Lexington, his estate manager, had given him. It looked as if the May harvest would be quite productive. He set aside the last page and turned to his correspondence, answering letters to both Rhys and young Harry.
It was the first letter he had received from the battlefront from his friend since they had parted. As always with the army, everything was hurry up—then wait. Rhys said he might well die from boredom before a bullet did him in. Now that Dez was away from the military conflict, he could only hope Bonaparte would soon be squashed like a bug or that Rhys might be fortunate enough to return to England and take his place as a fellow peer.
As for Harry, his penmanship was atrocious. Dez struggled to read the writing and finally figured out what his nephew wrote about. He was touched that Harry thought to write him. It was the second letter that the boy had sent. None had come from Arthur, however. He was a cool one, most likely feigning indifference toward Dez and then pumping his brother for news of what their uncle had written about. He made a note to write Dalinda next to see when the boys might want to come for an extended stay at Torville Manor.
Dez had been in his former home for almost six weeks now. It had taken him a bit to become accustomed to his rooms, ones he remembered his father occupying and which later must have seen Ham using them. Mrs. Abbott had given him a tour upon his arrival and pointed out the items that needed to be addressed. He’d taken up her list with Lexington, going over the books of the estate in order to see where matters stood.
The very unique Mr. Capshaw had also paid a visit shortly after Dez’s return. He brought with him paperwork and ledgers and frankly made Dez’s head ache. In the end, though, he received a clear idea of his financial situation, which had been aided by the huge dowry brought by his brother’s wife. Mr. Capshaw said that in some instances, when a marriage lasted less than a year, the bride’s family might request the dowry be returned. That had not been the case this time. Dez had offered to contact her family and ask if they wished it returned but Capshaw nearly exploded at the idea, telling him he would be foolish to throw away found money. The solicitor convinced him that, as the new earl, the money was his by rights. Though he still felt guilty, he knew very little about financial affairs and decided to take the solicitor’s advice on the matter.
He stood and stretched his arms high above his head, tired of sitting behind his desk. He decided to go for a walk on the estate. He had ridden it several times and stopped at every cottage on Torrington property, meeting tenants and their wives and children. When he saw someone now, a name usually popped into his head and he delighted when he recognized the tenant and could put the right name to his face.
Instead of leaving through the main entrance, Dez merely walked through the French doors of his study and into the warm sunshine of the spring day. Though he told himself he had no destination in mind, he found his feet led him to the lake where so many happy memories had taken place. He had only come down here once since his return, with his valet, Coral. Coral knew everything that happened at Torville Manor and far beyond its boundaries. He was friendly with many people in Draymott, the nearest village and spent time in the Draymott pub every week.
Dez had come to depend upon Coral’s fount of knowledge, which was why he discussed Ham’s accidental drowning with the valet. Coral had been one of the servants who had gone to the lake when the earl and countess did not return from their boating excursion. The valet had been the one to wade into the water and retrieve Lord and Lady Torrington’s lifeless bodies and stayed with them while others brought a cart to convey her and Ham home. Coral didn’t mince words since the former earl was dead in his grave and had told Dez exactly what he thought of his lordship—none of it flattering. Fortunately, Coral believed Dez a grand step up as the new earl and they got along well.
He arrived at the lake and sat on a fallen log near the shore. He remembered bringing picnic hampers filled with food that Cook
had supplied to him and Dalinda. Anna would meet them, bringing Jessa along once she got old enough to accompany her big sister. They, too, would have treats from their kitchen. In cooler weather, he would build a fire and they would gather around it, drawing from its warmth while they told ghost stories and sang. Those were good times and he found himself thinking of them with fondness now. His memories honored Anna and were the best part of his life. He had decided to push away the sadness of her death and concentrate on those happy moments. The only thing he regretted was that Anna had not been buried in Draymott, preventing him from visiting her grave.
Finally, he rose and before returning to the house, he went to the small cottage nearby where he and Dalinda had played as children. He didn’t remember which tenant had moved out from it, only that it had stood empty for as long as he could recall. Gradually, he and Dalinda had brought various items to the tiny abode. A few chairs they’d found in the attic. A table with a broken leg that they had propped up with books. An old shelf where they placed more books and a few toys. They had invited Anna to come to the cottage once it was fixed up.
Dez opened the door and glanced around. He had asked Lexington if any tenant had been assigned to it. No one had. Once he knew no one lived here, he had instructed his housekeeper to send maids down to clean and air out the place. The broken down furniture had been removed. The floors had been washed. Dez had gone through Torville Manor and chosen a piece here and there and had footmen bring the furniture under the butler’s watchful eye. The cottage was now cozy. It had a table and two chairs for someone to eat a meal. A settee and another chair. A desk which sat next to the window, where a glimpse of the lake could be seen. In the small bedchamber, he’d placed a bed and wardrobe and had the maids bring linens. He doubted it would ever be used but it captured a time for him that he missed. He might even come here and work every now and then at the desk, enjoying being closer to nature.
Closing the door, he returned to the house, slipping back into his study. It surprised him to find Meadows, his butler, waiting for him, an anxious look upon his normally placid face.
“There you are, your lordship. We had no idea where you had gone.”
Dez smiled. “I am sorry if I worried you, Meadows. I will keep you better informed of my whereabouts in the future.”
“That would be most appreciated, my lord.” The butler cleared his throat. “In the meantime, you have callers.”
“Who?” he asked, puzzled since he had issued no invitations. He knew, sooner or later, he would need to start becoming acquainted with his neighbors but he had been so busy up to this point.
“Lord and Lady Shelton and Miss Browning.”
He froze at the words then forced his limbs to relax. Lord Shelton, Anna’s father, had died recently, according to the ever-knowing Coral. The valet said that the viscount had passed away a month before Ham had. Dez supposed this was the heir and his wife. The Miss Browning would be Jessa. Dez thought a moment, calculating how old she would be and determined she would likely be seventeen or eighteen.
“Where are they?” he asked, recovering his composure.
“I placed them in the drawing room and asked Cook to serve them tea.”
“Good thinking, Meadows. I will go to them now.”
As he ascended the stairs, he hoped that the new Lord Shelton would be nothing like his predecessor, especially since they were to be neighbors. Dez entered the drawing room as a maid left. She bobbed a curtsey to him and told him tea had just been served and that she’d brought a cup for him in case he returned in time to join his guests. He thanked her and crossed the room.
Immediately, Jessa sprang to her feet. “Dez!” she cried and came toward him.
“Hello, Jessa. It is so good to see you.” He embraced her and pulled away to study her. “My, you have certainly grown since I last saw you. And grown tall.”
Where Anna had been petite, just a few inches over five feet, Jessa was much taller. She had a willowy frame and the same sky-blue eyes her sister did, though Jessa’s hair was blond. He seemed to recall Lady Shelton having blond hair.
“I am just turned eighteen,” Jessa said. “Which makes you thirty.”
He winced. “Don’t remind me.” He glanced to the couple who smiled at him and moved toward them. “Desmond Bretton, Earl of Torrington. You must be Lord and Lady Shelton.”
The two men shook hands and his neighbor said, “We are. It is certainly good to meet you, my lord.”
He turned and greeted the viscountess, a pretty, plump girl with brown hair and brown eyes. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Shelton.”
“I would say the same, my lord.”
“Please sit. Tea is here. Would you pour out, Lady Shelton?”
She agreed and soon they all had teacups and saucers in hand.
“You have not been Viscount Shelton long, I hear,” he commented.
“No. Only a few months. Jessa’s father passed away mid-February. Since he only had daughters, I inherited the title. I was his nephew though he and my father were estranged for many years.” The new viscount paused. “I hope that you and I will have a cordial relationship, Lord Torrington. My uncle was a vindictive, spiteful man. I want to be a far different viscount than he was.”
Already, Dez liked the new Shelton. “I am in a similar situation. I inherited from my brother, who was not well liked and didn’t care much for the running of Torville Manor and our land. I am sorry not to have called upon you earlier but I have been trying to sort out the mess he left me.”
Lord Browning held up a teacup. “To good neighbors—and hopefully, good friends.”
“I will drink to that,” Dez said, laughing.
They talked a little about the neighborhood and their estates and he believed being neighbors with Lord and Lady Shelton would prove most pleasant. Then he noticed Jessa had begun to grow anxious and wondered what troubled her. She caught her cousin’s eyes and something passed between them with no words being spoken.
Immediately, the viscount said, “We have come to you on a curious matter, my lord. I need to speak to you about an invoice I received in yesterday’s post.”
“Why me?” Dez asked, puzzled. “What information might I have that could aid you regarding some bill for merchandise or a service?”
Looking uncomfortable now, Shelton said, “I have discovered through our servants that you loved my cousin, Anna. That the two of you ran away together to Gretna Green in order to wed.”
Even all these years later, hearing the words aloud hurt him to no end. “Yes,” he said brusquely, hoping to bury the flood of emotion that hearing Anna’s name brought. “Our fathers were not in favor of the match and prevented us from reaching our destination. I was shipped off to the army immediately. Anna drowned.” Frustrated, he added, “I don’t understand what this has to do with some bill.”
“That’s the thing,” Shelton said. “I don’t think Anna drowned.”
Dez grew still, afraid to move. Finally, he said, “What of her grave? Dalinda, my sister, wrote to me when Anna died. She said Lord Shelton didn’t bury her in the village churchyard but rather chose to lay Anna to rest at Shelton Park.”
“There is no grave,” Jessa said firmly. “There never was.”
“What?”
Tears welled in Jessa’s eyes. “I was so young. It is hard for me to remember clearly but I do know that Anna was taken somewhere. She was locked in her room for a time, I suppose after Father brought her back from your elopement. Then the door was unlocked and I recall Mama being with her. And the servants taking her out. I hugged her and begged her not to go but they took her away.”
“Took her away,” he echoed, his throat tightening.
“Yes. She began struggling. Screaming. I ran and watched from a window.” Tears began cascading down Jessa’s cheeks. “They tied her wrists.”
“What?” Dez roared.
“They shoved her into a carriage. Father watched them do it. He must hav
e told them to. Then I remember being with Mama and her crying for a long time. A few days later, Father came to us. I was reading with Mama. He told us both that Anna had walked into the lake on purpose, her pockets full of stones. That she’d drowned. That we would never see her again.”
Jessa stood and began pacing. “He said we were never to mention her name again. He had all traces of her removed. The servants were also warned never to bring up Anna’s name or they would lose their positions. Father said she was dead and would stay dead.”
She stopped in front of Dez. “Even as a small child, I found that turn of phrase odd. That she would stay dead.” Jessa looked to her cousin. “Tell him, Tom.”
The viscount removed a letter from his pocket. “I think this may be where Anna is.”
Though stunned, hope filled Dez. For the first time in years, he felt a burden lifting from him. Lord Shelton handed the letter to Jessa and she passed it to Dez. With trepidation, he opened it.
It contained two pages. The first was a document that resembled any he had seen for the cost of goods sold or services performed. It referred to the yearly renewal of the set contract for AB and listed an amount. The second page was a brief, handwritten note signed by a Dr. Cheshire of Gollingham Asylum. A cold lump formed in Dez’s belly.
In the note, the doctor said that no progress had been made and that he could offer Lord Shelton no encouragement. The situation regarding AB seemed hopeless and the best that could be done was to continue treatment as requested by the viscount.
Dez had heard vague rumors regarding what occurred in an asylum. One of his acquaintances at Eton had an aunt who had been carted off to one. It was said the aunt had become difficult and was judged by a physician to be mad. His friend had actually visited the aunt once and said he never would again, claiming the experience too horrific to recount.
Was Anna imprisoned in one of these madhouses?
“She is alive,” Jessa said with determination. “I know she is. You must help her, Dez. You and Cousin Tom.”