by Abigail Agar
“Would it be within reason for me to travel home?” Jules did not wish to offend his host, but he needed to be back on his investigation. There were things to do, and he wished to visit the alley before any clues were lost. Likely he would never be able to trace where Lord Portland had gone in that alley, but he had to try.
Doctor Jones contemplated for a moment before he said, “I would advise against horse riding, but a gentle carriage should be safe enough.”
“Thank you,” Jules said. Now all he had to do was convince his hosts that he did not need to stay the night. Which by what Lord Winchester had said, would be pretty impossible.
The doctor was already gathering up his bag when Jules looked back to him. “Get some rest, Your Grace, and if you do change your residence merely let me know so that I can call on you.”
“Of course, Doctor,” Jules said. He watched the man leave the room before sitting up slightly. He winced, but it was not as bad as it could have been, Jules guessed. He looked at the tray of food beside him. His host would be more apt to let him go his way if Jules could show he was on the mend, but he simply could not bring himself to eat anything off the tray.
Jules groaned at the thought of eating with the Lord and Lady Winchester. Their daughter seemed to have a good head on her shoulders but then perhaps Jules’ appreciation of her had more to do with how lovely she was. He hated to even admit it, but it had been a long three months. The funeral and revenge had isolated him so thoroughly that it was not really all that unexpected that he should be enamoured with the clever, young woman.
She had certainly seen Jules clearer than even he saw himself, but she did not know what all helping him would entail. That really was for the best. She should not help him, and Jules should not encourage it at all. Though Lady Withersfield hardly seemed like she needed his encouragement, and she certainly did not need his permission to do as she pleased.
Jules smiled in amusement as he thought of the way the young woman had stood up to her own father. Jules, himself, would never have been so bold as that at her age. How old was the young woman? Jules wagered she was eighteen or nineteen. Jules was older, of course, but hardly wiser.
At the beginning of his twenty-fourth year on this earth, he had scarcely bothered to think of life without his parents. Jules assumed he would be older by far when his father retired and gave the titles and duties over to him.
Lord Portland had said that no one had profited quite as much as Jules, and in a way, he supposed that he was right. Although, the Duchy was never something that Jules craved. Being an only son, he was guaranteed to inherit it, and he had never been in a hurry for that day. Having the title meant taking a seat in the House of Lords. It meant having a duty that expanded further than family. Jules had never longed for that.
He was, however, prepared for it. Jules’ father had insisted that Jules know every bit of the family business, properties, and duties inside and out. He had spent long days working alongside his father, only to fail him at the man’s death. Jules had been so grief-stricken he had let Lord Portland steal away a profitable contract. Jules knew that his father would have been furious with him if he had known.
Jules mourned until he could mourn no more, then he took up the mantle of Duke. He swore he would find his parents’ killers. Jules felt his blood boil with the echoed fury that still pumped in his veins.
“I won’t fail them now,” Jules promised. “How can I when I have come so far? No. I will not be sidetracked and delayed. I will leave here before I am seduced by this maddening loneliness.”
There was a knock on the door. “Come in,” Jules called.
The servant from earlier that morning came in. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” the woman asked. “I was sent to see if you were through with your meal, but it appears you have not touched it.”
Jules glanced over at the tray. How long had he been sitting there lost in thought? “I am afraid that I am not very hungry. The doctor said it was normal that I would not be at this time and assures me that my appetite will return.” Jules added the last part so that if any question was brought up as to why Jules did not eat, the servant could at least answer.
She nodded her head and came over to scoop up the tray. Jules asked, “Your name is Gretchen, is that right?”
Her eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yes, Your Grace,” she said as if she were truly honoured that he had remembered her name.
“You know the young mistress pretty well, do you not?” Jules truly had no idea why he was bothering to ask, but he just could not stop the words.
Gretchen nodded. “Oh yes, Your Grace,” Gretchen said with a nod. “I have worked with the family for years.”
“Does she often help strange men who have been stabbed?” Jules found it amusing when the woman’s eyes widened at his question. He laughed. “I am only just entertaining myself,” Jules said to make her relax.
She laughed at his words, but it was a nervous laugh. Jules knew that laugh. He had heard it before at parties and dinners, and he gave the servant a smile. “I really did not mean to make you uncomfortable. You seem to have great loyalty to the Winchester family.”
There was a moment, just a moment when the woman’s face lay open before she covered it with a smile. At that moment, Jules saw not loyalty but more fear. Jules let the servant’s smile stand without him calling out what he had seen.
Jules had seen how the woman had reacted when she thought she might get caught in the hallway while he talked with Lady Withersfield. There was no need to lay more worry about her. Jules gave her a friendly smile. “Thank you,” Jules said as she turned towards the door.
She stammered, “Y-you are most welcome, Your Grace.”
Jules watched her leave and sighed. Alone again, he looked at the square of sunlight that covered the foot of his bed. There was little he could do but follow the doctor’s orders and rest even if doing so made him feel as if he were neglecting his duty to his parents. He laid back and closed his eyes.
The fear that he would be in the forest again swept over him. Jules pushed the thought away lest it open the door to that place. He thought of rest and comfort as he let the fatigue drag him under into a deep dreamless sleep.
***
The manservant who helped Jules get ready was older than he was, but not by that many years. Jules was stiff and sore. The world still tilted at odd times, and he was weaker than he would have liked.
“What is your name?” Jules asked to fill the space as the manservant seemed content to work on laying out Jules’ clothes in silence.
The man’s hair was brown, but it had a hint of red in its depths. He kept his hair short and neatly combed. Likely his master would accept nothing else if the man wished to keep his employment status.
After a moment the manservant said, “My name is Scott.” There was a touch of an accent that Jules found vaguely familiar.
“I would say that it was a pleasure to meet you,” Jules jested, “But I do wish we had never found our way to this particular room.”
Scott, the manservant, chuckled. “I can understand that, Your Grace.”
“I warn you that the ground tilts at odd times so I may lose my balance,” Jules told Scott as he motioned for Jules to stand up so that his trousers could be lifted into place.
Scott assured Jules, “I shall brace you, Your Grace.”
With a slight shake in his muscles, Jules used Scott’s shoulder to steady himself while Scott secured his trousers. When Jules finally sat back down, it was with a sigh of relief. “I do say, getting down the stairs might be a feat.”
“We shall make it, Your Grace,” Scott said as he held out Jules’ shirt to him. Jules took the soft shirt and looked at the new stitching in the seam of one of the sleeves. Scott noticed Jules’ attention to the seam and said, “We had to mend them in places. You tore it during the incident last night at some point, Your Grace.”
Jules nodded and pulled the shirt on his left arm with little effort
, but when he went to put his right arm in, he was halted by the pain. There was a pulling sensation in his side. As he sucked in a breath through his teeth, Scott was over to him quickly. “Let me make sure you didn’t pull your stitches,” Scott said with no time for adding honorifics onto his words. Jules did not mind the oversight at all. It grew rather tiresome that everyone adorned every sentence with words such as “your grace.”
“They look fine,” the man said with obvious relief. “Let’s try putting the right arm in first,” Scott suggested as he slipped the shirt off of Jules’ left arm.
Jules had to admit that it was considerably easier to put the right arm in first. Then all Scott had to do was pull the shirt around so that Jules could slip his left arm in. With the shirt in place, Scott buttoned it and then repeated the process for putting on Jules’ waistcoat. Jules noted where the fabric of both the shirt and waistcoat had been mended and remembered the blade that had stabbed through the fabrics into his ribs.
The blue tailcoat was something that Jules was thankful to see. He had felt lost when he had seen it gone, and of all his possessions, it was the thing that brought him the most comfort to have returned. Scott laid the tailcoat over the bed to be put on last.
After a long ordeal of dressing, Jules was so tired that he would almost have opted to stay in the room and forgo the meal. However, that meant he would have to take off all of the clothing he had just put on, and he did not think he could stand that any better. Scott, at last, helped him slip on his tailcoat, and Jules steeled himself for the trip down the stairs.
The journey down the stairs was easier by far than Jules had imagined. The ease of it made Jules long to leave and be back to his investigation. The longer he stayed here, the colder the trail would be. There was nothing to be done about it at present, but he should take his leave as soon as possible.
“Do you know if your master or mistress contacted my household to inform them of where I am?” Jules asked as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
Scott shook his head. “I do not know, Your Grace.”
“I suppose I shall find out soon enough,” Jules said. Once on the smooth and thankfully unmoving floors at the base of the stairs, Jules had a much easier time trying to maintain his balance.
Scott said, “Just a moment, Your Grace.” The man was swiftly over to a tin by the door as he retrieved a walking stick from several that were awaiting use. “Try this, Your Grace. I think it might help a bit and give you a bit more dignity than me pulling on you.”
“Thank you,” Jules said with gratitude for the man’s thoughtful gesture. The cane sat in his hand very well, and it was a nice height too. “Yes, I think this shall help greatly,” Jules said with confidence.
Now if only Jules could just skip the evening meal altogether, he would be in a much better mood. Alas, he was sure that his host would notice if he simply disappeared. Jules had to admit that he did owe the family for their kindness as Scott fell into step beside him. The man did not interfere with Jules, but he kept a watchful eye out for things that Jules might need help with.
As they approached the dining hall, Jules took a breath and pushed aside thoughts of his quest. He needed to put on a good face as a guest. His mother would roll over in her grave to know that Jules was doing disrespect to their family name by acting ungrateful in the face of such a kind act.
Scott stepped ahead and pulled the heavy dining hall door open for Jules who gave him a nod of thanks. As he stepped through the door, he noted that it was some sort of oak stained dark and at least two inches thick. He supposed that if anyone wanted to leave the dining hall, they should have a good set of muscles to do so.
Lord and Lady Winchester turned from where they were having a conversation quietly. Lord Winchester walked down the length of the long dining table that was set out with flowers of the season and candles to light their meal. “Your Grace,” Lord Winchester gushed, his voice echoing around the dining hall, “It is wonderful to see you up and about as you are.”
“I have always had a good constitution,” Jules said with a smile as he took the hand that the man offered him.
After a firm shake, Lord Winchester released Jules’ hand and said with a smile, “I suppose that you have already met my wife, Lady Winchester. I did not know if you remembered us from our dealings with your father some years ago.”
“I am afraid that I do only vaguely recall that you and my father had arrangements,” Jules said with an apologetic smile. He turned his eyes on Lady Winchester who eyed him with what Jules might have thought was a vague distrust. “I also regret that I do not recall much about our meeting last night.”
Lady Winchester smiled, but with a tightness that Jules took as discomfort. “I would be surprised if you remembered much, Your Grace. It was a frightening ordeal, and you were injured.”
“Yes,” Jules said quietly as his finger flexed around the top of the cane. “Shall we be seated? I do not mean to push, I merely wish to rest after taking on the stairs.”
Lord Winchester said, “Of course. How horribly inconsiderate of us.” The man ushered Jules towards a chair. “Please, sit down and make yourself comfortable. We want you to think of this as your home and to rest.”
“Speaking of my home,” Jules said as the man went around the table and took a seat at his own chair at the head of the table, “has anyone sent word to my household of my whereabouts? I imagine that they were quite worried when I did not return home.”
Lord Winchester frowned. “I am not certain—”
“We sent correspondence to your home to let them know that you were safe and recovering here,” Lady Winchester said as she took her seat.
Jules nodded. “Thank you for doing so. Some of my staff has been with my family for generations, and they liken themselves to being as much my family as any blood,” Jules said with a chuckle.
“And you stand for that?” Lord Winchester asked as if in amazement.
Jules gave a one-sided shrug with his good shoulder. “I do not mind their affections. It makes them loyal to the family and trustworthy. Do you not find those useful traits?”
Lord Winchester frowned. “I can see where they would come in handy,” he said as if the idea had really just occurred to him.
Lady Winchester eyed her husband with an odd expression that Jules could not place. He gave up trying as the door to the dining hall opened again. Out of habit, Jules stood up upon hearing the swish of a dress. Lord Winchester followed Jules’ lead and stood up as well as Penelope came through the door that Scott held open for her.
“Thank you, Scott,” Penelope said with a smile at the man.
Scott bobbed his head, “Aye, Miss.”
Jules realised where he had heard Scott’s accent before. His family had a maid a few years back from Ireland, and she had the same soft accent in her words. Jules gave Scott a nod of his head which the man returned.
“Lady Withersfield,” Jules said with a smile that he could not help. The woman’s emerald dress set off the golden tresses that hung against her shoulder in a braid. Jules’ mother had always been fond of braids and often said that a woman with a braid was a woman who took her time.
Lady Withersfield returned his smile. “Good evening, Your Grace,” she said with a soft rush of breath that sounded to Jules like the wind sighing.
Lord Winchester cleared his throat. “Do sit down, Penelope,” he said impatiently. Lady Winchester gave her husband a disapproving look but kept silent.
Lady Withersfield looked at her father with a touch of annoyance in her eyes. “Oh, Father, no one is as hungry as you claim you are all the time.”