Ashes of Roses

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “…cannot imagine why it is imperative we speak right this moment,” Lady Carlisle said rather irritably. “There are guests to attend to, or perhaps you’ve forgotten.”

  “Not at all,” Monsieur Delacroix replied smoothly. “This won’t take long.”

  There was the rattle of a key, then a moment of silence.

  “Was it not locked?” Delacroix asked innocently.

  “Of course it was locked,” Lady Carlisle snapped, as the door to her office swung open with a soft creak.

  “How convenient, that you left the lights on,” he remarked, and I squeezed Miles’ hand twice. Monsieur Delacroix was the one who left them on.

  There was silence for a moment, then the tap of heels as Lady Carlisle stepped inside, and the thump of Delacroix’s, as he followed. Both were suddenly muffled, probably by a floor rug.

  “What is it that cannot wait?” she asked curtly.

  “I would prefer a bit more privacy than this,” Delacroix said.

  I squeezed Miles’ hand twice.

  “Sit down,” Lady Carlisle replied icily. “This will do.”

  The dull thud of footsteps ceased. There was a moment’s hesitation, then rustling, and the squeak of a chair.

  “If you would prefer it,” Delacroix said, as if it mattered not to him. “I supposed as your office was left open, you would wish to ensure your most private sanctum was undisturbed.”

  Wow. Subtle, this guy was not.

  “You needn’t concern yourself with my affairs,” Lady Carlisle retorted. “Now what is it, that cannot wait?”

  “Very well then,” Delacroix reluctantly honored the change in subject. “The wedding, of course.”

  “The wedding,” Lady Carlisle repeated, as if perhaps she did not hear right.

  “Of course, the wedding,” Delacroix came close to snapping. “Now that the matter is settled, I should like to see Ava is happily married, as soon as possible.”

  Oh my goodness! That was so not the truth! I wanted to go over that blast of enlightenment more thoroughly, but satisfied myself with squeezing Miles’ hand repeatedly, because those two weren’t through talking.

  “Happily?” Lady Carlisle practically snorted. “That does seem overly optimistic. The Countess does not appear even to know she is engaged.”

  “Most certainly she knows,” Delacroix laughed as though Lady Carlisle was joking. He also lied. He had no idea if she knew, or not.

  “She has said as much?” Lady Carlisle questioned pointedly.

  “Yes, of course,” Delacroix lied.

  “Then she does speak,” Lady Carlisle said with more than a touch of sarcasm. “I was beginning to doubt it.”

  “Of course she speaks,” Delacroix snapped. “Ava merely suffers from a touch of social anxiety. She’s rather more shy than she used to be.”

  “Her outlandish mode of dress is rather contradictory for one so shy as to be struck dumb by the presence of others,” Lady Carlisle retorted.

  “On the contrary, it ensures the focus is on her attire, rather than on herself,” Delacroix declared.

  Not that he had any idea what she was thinking, or why she seldom spoke and appeared oblivious to those around her, or what motivated her to dress that way.

  “See here,” Delacroix said sternly. “We’re rather off topic.”

  “I disagree,” Lady Carlisle countered. “To discuss wedding arrangements is rather premature, when the fitness of the bride is in question.”

  “The—the fitness of the bride?” Delacroix snapped incredulously. “If it is a contest, then, Ava is hardly the one lacking!”

  Except in the language and fashion departments.

  “Yes, certainly her talent in the areas of conversation and fashion far exceed that of others,” Lady Carlisle shot back, and I slapped my hand over my mouth. I didn’t dare look at Miles. A single glance at this point could set us both off.

  “Ava is titled, or have you forgotten,” Delacroix replied cuttingly. “Perhaps you have also forgotten that the title of countess exceeds that of baronette.”

  “Certainly, if the title is British,” Lady Carlisle retorted with exaggerated patience. “But then as a Frenchman, what could you possibly know of titles and precedence.”

  Wow, this was turning into a real smack-down!

  “You’re rather more sure of yourself than is wise, if you dare offend the Countess by mocking her title! That is hardly all she has to offer. Her fortune far exceeds anything your son can bring to the table. Perhaps it is the groom who is lacking in fitness, after all,” Delacroix replied scathingly.

  “Then it should not trouble you to find Sir Edmund would choose a life on the streets, over marriage to the Countess,” Lady Carlisle countered.

  “You can not be serious,” Delacroix snapped.

  “I am. Quite,” Lady Carlisle replied. “He said it himself, just this afternoon.”

  “Well then,” Delacroix said ominously. “If that is what he prefers, it can certainly be arranged!”

  Lady Carlisle laughed shortly.

  “You overstep your limits significantly, if you believe you have any say in the matter.”

  “Your son has nothing to offer Countess Grieve,” Delacroix retorted. “Title aside, he can ill afford to lose the fortune which comes with it.”

  “The Carlisle fortune is hardly exhausted, despite the regrettable changes in investment,” she said pointedly.

  “You lost no more than I,” Delacroix replied placatingly. “It is all the more reason to accept the opportunity to recover those losses, and so much more.”

  “The Countess’ is not the only fortune in existence,” Lady Carlisle said dismissively.

  “I suppose you mean the American cousins,” Delacroix bristled. “If you expect salvation from that angle, you’re set for disappointment.”

  “Salvation,” Lady Carlisle repeated. I could practically hear her eyes narrow.

  “What do you know of these people, really?” Delacroix questioned scornfully. “How thoroughly did you look into their claims, before welcoming them right in as long lost family?”

  “This is preposterous,” Lady Carlisle said, with equal scorn.

  “That’s just what it is!” Delacroix pounced. “You’re being robbed, or don’t you realize? Are you unaware they possess the seeds to the manor’s exclusive roses?”

  “I cannot imagine what business it is of yours, if they do,” Lady Carlisle replied shortly.

  “Of course it’s my business!” he snapped. “It’s got to be someone’s, no more serious than you seem to be about protecting this estate from those who would rob you blind, yes, and the charity proceeds as well, no doubt! Do you think it coincidence that Finn handed over his prize seeds, then promptly disappeared? And don’t forget the dead bodies they’ve a knack for turning up! How do you suppose they know just where to look, hmm? Take care, Lucinda, you could be next! Yes, and your son! Take my advice, and rescind your welcome, while you still have the chance!”

  “You’re making a spectacle of yourself,” Lady Carlisle said disapprovingly. “I believe you must be intoxicated.”

  “On the contrary, I am the only one present with a clear head!”

  That wasn’t the truth, he drank more than he should at dinner, and knew it. As he celebrated the success he believed to be imminent, he had no idea Lady Carlisle would prove to be so difficult to manage.

  There was the sudden spring of—well—springs, and the purposeful thump of footsteps moving further into the room.

  “Whatever do you think you’re doing?” Lady Carlisle exclaimed.

  “Those would-be usurpers are no doubt hiding, waiting to make their getaway!” Delacroix declared, with the sound of a door flying open, and the thud of a knob as it hit the wall.

  “Get out at once!” Lady Carlisle seethed. “At once, I say!”

  “They’ve no doubt concocted an excuse, a forged note perhaps, should they be discovered,” Delacroix went right on going. “Do not believe it
, Lucinda!”

  “Get out of that closet—what on earth are you doing under the desk?” she spluttered.

  “They’re here, I’m certain of it!” he panted.

  “Leave immediately, or I shall have you removed by force!” Lady Carlisle practically shouted.

  “They escaped out the window most likely,” Delacroix declared, with the heavy swish of a curtain.

  “Out! At once!” Lady Carlisle roared.

  “It is of your welfare for which I am concerned,” he lied, then there was a thud, and he grunted.

  “At once!” Lady Carlisle demanded again, and there was another thud, then another, accompanied by more grunts of complaint.

  “You must know, I am on your side!” Delacroix managed to assert.

  “You best be on the other side of this door, and be quick about it!” Lady Carlisle retorted curtly.

  In a flash Miles had me off the couch, out of the sitting room, into the hall, and several steps down. My head spun along with the rest of me as he turned, then guided me at a leisurely pace back down the hall we so recently and rapidly traversed.

  Delacroix came stumbling through the doorway, and almost fell flat. Lady Carlisle was right behind him. She wielded a heavy book in her hands.

  “Go to your room at once, and stay there until you’ve sobered!” she ordered.

  “Is everything quite alright?” Miles asked with polite concern.

  Lady Carlisle and Delacroix both glanced up sharply, in response.

  “You!” Delacroix snapped. Lady Carlisle silenced him with a scathing look.

  “So long as Monsieur Delacroix proceeds directly to his suite, for the night,” she said in response to Miles’ question, and with another warning look at Delacroix.

  He clenched his teeth, then addressed her with exaggerated politeness.

  “Of course. It has been rather a trying day.”

  “Then yes,” Lady Carlisle said to Miles, more calmly this time. “It’s quite alright.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Miles replied. “We shall wish you a good evening, then.”

  Lady Carlisle acknowledged his words with a gracious nod of her head, then turned back to her office.

  Delacroix glared coldly at Miles as he straightened his crooked spine, and prepared to retreat with his crooked plans.

  Miles looked back at him evenly, then slowly spun the envelope in his fingers, and tucked it inside his jacket.

  Delacroix’s eyes widened, then bulged, as his face flushed blotchily, and his whole body shook with rage. He moved forward a step.

  Miles did not appear concerned. At all. He raised an eyebrow.

  The steady look in his hazel eyes unnerved Delacroix, who cut short his next step. He narrowed his eyes uncertainly as he stood there, watching Miles.

  And then… Delacroix’s self-preservation kicked in. Rather than proceed with his less than brilliant plan to take Miles on in a fight, he chose to glare some more.

  “This is not over,” he hissed on his way past.

  “For your sake, it had better be,” Miles warned. Or promised. It was the truth, anyway!

  Delacroix turned several new shades of purple, then tilted his chin in the air, and made his escape.

  We watched him disappear around a corner, then listened as his footsteps faded.

  “Well. That was interesting,” I commented.

  “I’m sure,” Miles replied. “I can hardly wait to hear all about it.”

  “Good,” I said, as we resumed our journey back to our room. “Neither can I. It all came so rapid fire, it was too much to process. But I got it, it’s there.”

  “I do love that about your ability,” Miles smiled.

  “No kidding!” I laughed.

  We reached our room without further incident, and traded our formal attire for casual.

  “Shall I contact Trix for a ride, or would you prefer to go over what you learned, first?” Miles asked, as he helped me on with my heavy sweater.

  “Our friends are so behind at this point, it would take at least an hour to catch them up,” I considered.

  “You’re right, so we’ll put that off for tomorrow,” Miles said. “We’ll also spare them hopeless confusion and ourselves having to explain absolutely everything we say, and discuss tonight’s truths right here, and now. So… begin.”

  “Alright,” I agreed, as we piled pillows, and settled on the bed to talk. “Lady Carlisle and Monsieur Delacroix jumped around a lot, so… I’ll try and deliver in a more orderly fashion. That brings the Countess to mind.”

  “You discovered why she dresses the way she does?” Miles asked.

  “No. Delacroix also has no idea what she’s thinking, or why she seldom speaks—which tells us she does, at least—or why she appears oblivious to those around her. She isn’t as oblivious as she seems, though. That’s not a truth I heard, it’s something I remembered. She looked slightly interested when you set Lady Carlisle straight about who would escort me to dinner, and everywhere else. It was brief, but it was there. I don’t know what to make of it, but here’s what I learned. Castle Grieve is part of the Grieve estate, which was willed to the Countess upon her father’s death. Not her mother, but her, his nearest blood relative. It has to be, that’s how it’s always been. If the Countess wasn’t here to inherit, then a search would be on for the next nearest blood relative.”

  “So Delacroix would be out of the running,” Miles commented.

  “Yes, so we needn’t be concerned he’ll try to get her out of the way. Whether or not he has any real affection and concern for her, I don’t know, but he definitely wants her alive. His generous monthly salary depends on it. That salary will continue until she turns twenty-five, and comes into her full inheritance. Unless she marries, first.”

  “And if she does?” Miles questioned.

  “Then her guardian-turned-advisor has the responsibility of vetting her husband, and deciding if and when it’s prudent to turn over control of the estate, in its entirety. If the guardian-turned-advisor has reservations, not only does the salary continue, but he or she also assumes dual control. Only if his or her mind is changed, will the Countess have full control.”

  Miles’ eyebrows knit, as he puzzled that over.

  “Her father must’ve been drunk, to come up with that.”

  “I know, we see the possible ramifications here, but he probably figured that if he outlived his wife, she’d go on living, and the responsibility would be hers. There was also an elderly aunt on his side of the family, but by the time his wife died, the aunt was in a nursing home with dementia. I doubt he even considered Delacroix could end up in that role.”

  “Well… that’s nice to know, at least. So then, this explains Delacroix’s determination to see that the Countess is married off before she turns twenty-five. That would give him at least partial control of the estate.”

  “He couldn’t sell it, but he doesn’t want to,” I agreed. “He wants to turn it into a travel destination. He would benefit from the profit it would bring in, and the clientele would provide opportunities for new investments.”

  “Why not approach the Countess about this directly?” Miles wondered.

  “Well, neither of them have control right now,” I pointed out. “If she’s still single when she turns twenty-five, Delacroix never will. The only way he’ll benefit, is if she’s married first.”

  “Then it’s safe to conclude the statement she’s making in her choice of clothing is not his idea,” Miles said with certainty, and I laughed.

  “So… if I was dressed similarly when you first saw me, are you saying things would’ve turned out differently?” I teased.

  “Are you kidding? Just because I was semi-transparent, doesn’t mean my eyesight was impervious to the light of a thousand suns. One glimpse would’ve been as much as I could manage.”

  I laughed again, then got back on topic.

  “Well, you’re right. Her fashion is not his idea. Marrying Sir Edmund, is. As long as
they marry before she turns twenty-five.”

  “Because thereby, Delacroix will gain partial control of Grieve Castle,” Miles ticked off.

  “And keep his salary as advisor,” I interjected.

  “That, too. He assumed he would somehow gain control over the manor as well, and pedal Finn’s hybrids to the highest bidding grower. Is that about right?”

  “Yes,” I confirmed. “He also wants to do the same thing to the manor, that he does Grieve Castle. He didn’t lose money on the investments he recommended to Lady Carlisle, despite what he said.”

  “Then are you suggesting he intentionally misled her, in order to negatively impact their finances? Or was that a truth that was revealed to you?”

  “It’s a reasonable conclusion. If she’s hurting for money because of the damage to the manor, then by bailing them out, Lady Carlisle would be indebted to Delacroix. He does have money of his own, and if the Countess was married to Sir Edmund, there would be a lot of pressure to accept his help. It makes sense, that’s why he was trying to discredit us; he’s afraid she’ll come to us for a loan, or that we’ll offer. Then she won’t need him, so no indebtedness. No clout, no leverage, even if the Countess does marry Sir Edmund.”

  “You’re saying Delacroix caused the damage to the manor, somehow?” Miles asked.

  “Wait, did I?” I tried to remember. “I don’t know, but… it fits, right?”

  We both thought that over for several seconds.

  “If he’s willing and able to cover the repairs, then it fits,” Miles concluded. “His usually assigned room was first to be remodeled, so the damage would be most obvious there. He shows up early, and discovers there’s a problem. That gives Lady Carlisle time to figure out how bad it is, and to be overwhelmed by the cost to repair. Having already sustained loss due to the bad investment advice Delacroix strategically meted out, she would be particularly vulnerable, to the point she went ballistic when Edmund told her he was in a relationship with Ashley.”

  “It was one surprise too many,” I said. “Her response makes more sense, now. She’s used to being the one in control. She was probably in a panic over the manor and how to save it, so she overreacted. It made her feel in control to give Sir Edmund an ultimatum, and take her frustration out on Ashley. The Countess’ fortune was a definite factor, but it was also about the need to control, or the desire to, anyway.”