Lady Eleanor responded for both of them. “That will be fine. I imagine you are looking forward to beginning the renovations at Maple Hall.”
Nodding silently, Garrett went back to work on his food. He’d not spoken one word to Natalie, really. And he hadn’t even looked at her when he’d oh-so-casually mentioned his plans for an early departure.
“You are leaving?” The question slipped out before she could stop it. Foolish girl, for imagining that he might have a tendre for her. “You are leaving tomorrow?”
Garrett paused his fork for a moment, long enough to glance up. “I have a great deal of work awaiting me.” When he looked back down at his food, he frowned. “It’s best I don’t waste any more time.” With that, he stabbed his fork into a piece of sausage. He was not in the best humor this morning.
Natalie looked back down at her plate.
She was no longer hungry. Even her coffee lost its appeal.
Chapter Eighteen
Mixed feelings plagued Garrett at the thought of spending the morning with Natalie. Being near her, but unable to touch her, would be…frustrating. Staring into his coffee, he pictured Natalie as she’d been last night, sweet and trusting, leaning against the tree. Her skin beckoned him, invited him. One taste would never be enough.
So soft. So fragrant. So enticing.
When he’d first laid eyes on her, over two years ago, he’d made the judgment that she must be one of the most pampered and selfish debutantes of the season.
Ah, but he’d been wrong. She worried she had been selfish to insist upon a marriage that would meet her needs. As beautiful on the inside as the outside, she was smart and compassionate and sweet.
And yet, to even consider a future with her was impossible. Having come to this conclusion, he did not wish to listen to her laugh, or smell her hair, or touch her hand. He needed no further reminders of her feminine delights.
They had finished breakfast and were now headed upstairs.
And of course, her dress caressed and molded itself to her body while she walked in front of him.
Garrett had another reason for dreading this morning’s task. Dredging his mother’s artwork up, after all these years, gave him a somewhat sickening feeling. The reason for this eluded him.
He hadn’t looked at the paintings when he’d retrieved them from his mother’s agent. They’d been gifted to him, put into trust by her. Just after he’d come of age, a solicitor had contacted him. He’d been ordered to give the paintings to her child when he reached his majority.
As though she had known she was going to die.
For a storage fee, Garrett had left them in care of the solicitor until a few years ago, when the man himself passed away. Reluctant to store them at Maple Hall, Garrett had quickly accepted when Stone offered to keep them here, at Raven’s Park.
Since the day he’d been notified of this strange inheritance, he’d felt a dread at opening them—as though he would be opening a door to the past—a past that included his father. Was he perhaps afraid to find that his mother might have been as insane as her husband? She’d married the man, after all. She’d borne his father a son. It had been the very last thing she’d done on this earth.
Garrett dismissed his misgivings as Natalie led the way. She knew where they were stored and strode purposefully through the corridor. Garrett vaguely remembered assisting in their placement, but that had been some time ago, and he could not remember the exact location of the room. When they reached the door, he waited in the corridor while Natalie turned the knob and pushed it open. The ladies entered first. Holding a large crowbar in his right hand, Garrett followed hesitantly. Lady Ravensdale had offered to send a servant along to assist, but Garrett would open them himself.
He found it oddly comforted that he was not to do so alone.
He stepped into the room and paused as Natalie opened the thick drapes blocking the morning sunlight. Lady Eleanor removed a dust cover from a high-backed brocaded seat and perched herself on its edge. Looking at him, she nodded encouragingly.
Taking a deep breath, Garrett examined the nearest wooden crate. It was one of the larger ones but opened easily when he pried at the seams. With one corner dislodged, Garrett pulled the wood away and leaned it against the wall. He then unwound the burlap cloth that had been wrapped around the cargo so very long ago. Was his mother the last person to have touched these contents? He inhaled deeply, thinking there might be a hint of her perfume, something of her person. But all he could smell was dust and paint. What had she been thinking when she’d stored these items? Did she know she would not live to know the child she carried?
The first painting appeared to be a rendering of Hyde Park in the springtime. Abstract colors, chosen by the artist, softened the realism. Garrett’s eyes drank in the image. It was as though the woman who had been his mother could finally share this memory. Natalie walked over to the painting and knelt on the floor to get a closer look. She reached out a tentative hand and touched the frame.
“Oh, Garrett, it’s stunning.” Her voice fell to almost a whisper.
Forging ahead, Garrett moved the painting and leaned it against the wall. Natalie rose again and removed the burlap from the painting behind it.
“Oh, that is the one!” Lady Eleanor cried out. “That is the one I told you about, Natalie. Notice the life in it. I’ve always remembered how this painting made me feel. It is as though she were painting the colors of the sun itself, during autumn. You think you ought to be able to smell decaying leaves. It is so…alive.”
The large lump that formed in Garrett’s throat threatened to choke him as he uncovered the paintings. All in all, there were over twenty, each of them a great work to be appreciated. These were created by his mother. His mother! His initial reaction of a connection with his long-deceased mother was gradually replaced with a sense of awe.
She was not only an artist; she’d been a genius.
Natalie opened the last container, a trunk, and after removing a few gowns, pulled out some stacks of paper. “Oh, look, here are some drawings of people—portraits. Such talent, Garrett!”
Lady Eleanor had been staring at one of the paintings, but upon hearing Lady Natalie’s words she walked over to look through the drawings. Grasping one of them with shaking hands, she let out a soft exclamation, “Oh, Arthur!”
Natalie examined the portrait. “Do you know him, Lady Eleanor?”
The older woman blinked back tears. “My brother,” she said. “He is Arthur, my brother.”
Sifting through the papers, Natalie placed several of them atop a table near her. “There are others of him, Lady Eleanor. All of these! They are all portraits of your brother!”
Garrett peered over Natalie’s shoulder to get a better look at the drawings. They were all of a young man in several different settings, drawn from different angles.
“He was very handsome, Aunt,” Natalie said as she examined a few of them. And then she jerked back and hastily stuffed the rest of the pages into the bottom of the trunk. Lady Eleanor did not notice. She simply gazed at the first couple of pages, perhaps lost in her memories.
“My dear Arthur,” she said softly, touching the drawing as though she could caress the face of the man within it.
Garrett retrieved the stack Natalie had discarded. The portraits were of the gentleman in the nude. He smiled for the first time that day. No wonder she’d put them down so quickly.
“What happened to your brother, Lady Eleanor? Why would Lady Hawthorne make so many renderings of his likeness?” Natalie asked the questions before Garrett even considered them.
Lady Eleanor found the chair she’d uncovered earlier and sat heavily upon it. Looking at Garrett, she hesitated before speaking. “Before Lady Cordelia married Lord Hawthorne, she and my brother had formed an attachment.”
Natalie regarded one of the drawings with a perplexed frown marring her smooth forehead. “What happened, do you know?” Natalie prodded Lady Eleanor.
“Arthu
r was killed.” She stared at one of the drawings and brought one trembling hand to her mouth. “I have not seen his likeness for so many years. And it is such a wonderfully accurate likeness.”
Garrett stepped forward and crouched in front of the older lady. She was quite shaken by this discovery. He’d not realized that there had been such a connection between his mother and Lady Sheffield’s family. It made him feel closer to the elderly lady somehow. “Would you like to keep them?” He indicated the drawings. “They are of more value to you than to me.”
She reached out her hand to touch him on the cheek. “You are such a dear young man. Cordelia would have been so very proud of you.” And then, before he could feel awkward, she dropped her hand. “I would be grateful to keep a few.” She turned back to the drawings and pulled out three. “Just these, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“It is my pleasure to give them to you.” His sentiments were sincere. Lady Eleanor did not have a great deal of family left. He was glad to give her such a touching reminder of her brother.
Blinking, Natalie made a fuss of brushing the dust from the front of her dress. “I believe that is everything. Shall I send for some manservants to repack these?”
Garrett considered the room’s contents. “No, I’ll see to them myself.” In fact, he needed to spend time with the paintings alone. He reached out and grabbed Natalie’s wrist to keep her from hurrying away. “Thank you.” He wanted her to know he was glad she’d been with him today. He held her gaze and hoped she understood.
With a rueful smile, Natalie nodded slightly. “Thank you for sharing them with me, with us.” Lady Eleanor stood by the door. Natalie pointedly glanced at her wrist and, feeling reluctant, Garrett released it.
When she reached Lady Eleanor, Natalie took the older lady’s arm and then turned back to Garrett for a moment. “I will have somebody come, after a while, to see if you need any additional supplies.”
And with that, she took her leave.
After the door closed, Garrett sat on the chair vacated by Lady Eleanor. He looked around at the amazing artwork his mother had left to him and wished that instead he could have known her. The paintings, though, made her seem more real to him than ever before. His father had ordered portraits made of her so Garrett knew what she’d looked like, but these paintings, they were a part of who she was. She’d poured herself into this work. She’d loved nature and the passionate wildness it possessed. She’d seen the world in a unique light, in unique colors.
Remembering something important, Garrett turned back and held up one of the gowns which Natalie had set aside. He unfolded it so that the hem fell to the ground. The dress consisted of ivory satin and lace, with tiny pearls decorating the neckline and bodice. Was this her wedding gown?
Garrett brought the garment to his face and inhaled deeply, again hoping to catch a lingering scent of the perfume she might have worn.
It smelled of camphor and decay.
The lump in Garrett’s throat won. He sat down and allowed something to break inside him.
He wept.
Chapter Nineteen
Garrett needed time alone, and furthermore, Natalie was not ready yet to abandon Aunt Eleanor. What a shock it must have been to see the image of a brother who’d been dead for many years. How many years, she wondered.
With Aunt Eleanor leaning heavily upon her, Natalie escorted her to the chamber she always stayed in while visiting. As one of their more elaborate guestrooms, it boasted a small sitting area. Natalie assisted the suddenly frail woman to the comfortable settee. She then fetched a shawl from the dressing room, wrapped it about Aunt Eleanor’s shoulders, and finally reached for the bell pull. When one of the housemaids arrived, Natalie ordered tea and sandwiches. She did not think her godmother would be up to partaking nuncheon downstairs with company.
Content in each other’s silence, Lady Eleanor rested her eyes while Natalie drifted over to the window. Gazing out upon the landscaped gardens, she contemplated her own brothers, and how she would grieve if something tragic were to befall any of them. And she’d been blessed with four of them! As much of a blight as they might be, they were each, every one of them, so very dear.
And in what was becoming a normal occurrence these last few days, her thoughts returned to Garrett. He had been very quiet examining the paintings. But, watching him, she’d known he was greatly affected. Each time they’d revealed another painting, she’d sensed a new wave of emotion sweep over him.
He’d never known his mother. She knew his mother had died in childbirth. Garrett Castleton had lived most of his life alone in this world.
When the maid arrived with a tray of food and tea, Natalie poured cups for them both, adding liberal amounts of cream and sugar to Aunt Eleanor’s.
Leaving the sandwiches untouched, they drank quietly for several minutes.
It was Lady Eleanor who finally broke the silence.
“He died in a duel,” she said. And then, almost as an afterthought, added, “With the late Earl of Hawthorne.”
Natalie swallowed her tea and sat up straighter than normal. She could not help imagining one of her brothers being killed on the field of honor. Or her father. Or Garrett. It was every woman’s greatest fear. Honor be damned.
“The old earl killed your brother?”
With a resigned nod, Lady Sheffield leaned into the cushioned back of the settee and rehashed the great scandal of 1793.
“I am not a lady by birth,” she began. “I came by my title through marriage to my late husband. We were gentry, not nobility. My brother, Arthur, was a barrister.
“Lady Cordelia was the only child of a duke. Naturally, her family had high expectations for her. Throughout her youth, they anticipated her marrying an earl or higher. Perhaps a viscount if the title was an old one and the estate very wealthy.
“Knowing this, one would have expected her to be very high in the instep, nose in the air. But I came to know her as a lively, tenderhearted, and delightful young woman.
“My brother and Broderick, your father, befriended one another at Eton. After your father became the earl, he did not sever the connection as many others might have.
“If not for your parents, Arthur and I never would have come to know Lady Cordelia. We attended many ton events, and Lady Cordelia came to be one of my closest friends. At these same social gatherings, Arthur and Cordelia developed an attachment to one another.”
Wiping a tear from her face, Lady Eleanor went on. “I blame myself for Arthur’s death. Thinking it romantic and exciting, I made it possible for them to spend time together alone. I distracted our chaperones, and they fell in love.
“So very, very stupid. Arrogant of me to think with my help, true love would conquer all. If I’d but known what the consequence would be, I would have done everything in my power to keep them apart.”
Natalie reached out and covered the woman’s powdered dry hand with her own.
“They attempted to elope.” Lady Eleanor shook her head sadly. “Sometimes, I think it was the bravest and most wonderful thing Lady Cordelia ever did, whereas the worst decision she ever made was to tell her maid.
“Lord Hawthorne and the duke apprehended them a mere twenty miles out of the city. Arthur’s second-hand carriage and pair of old hacks were no match for the duke’s magnificent team. They were overcome a few hours after they attempted their escape.”
Natalie surmised the situation, “And the earl challenged your brother?”
“He did.” Reaching for a sandwich, Lady Eleanor took a moment to chew the fine meats and fresh baked bread. “My brother loathed the notion of fighting. But he had no choice. As the challenged, he chose the weapon.” She looked over at Natalie. “My brother was an academic his entire life. He was slim and fit; he was not brawny.”
“He chose pistols,” Natalie guessed.
“He did.” Setting the crust of her sandwich back down on a small plate, Lady Eleanor brushed some crumbs from her hands. “The irony is he drew before
Hawthorne. The first shot was his.”
“He deloped?” Natalie asked.
“Yes. Shot straight into the air. But the earl, such a horrible man—evil—aimed right at dear Arthur’s heart.” Taking another sip of her tea, from a shaking hand, Lady Eleanor came to the end of her tale. “And shortly afterwards Lady Cordelia and Lord Hawthorne married and then retreated to Maple Hall. I never saw her again. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same of Lord Hawthorne. And then what he tried to do to my very own niece, to Lilly…”
Lilly was lucky to be alive.
“I met the man on a few occasions but never came to know him in any way. I must admit, I am thankful. He sounds like the devil himself!”
“He was.”
Natalie felt utterly drained. She was shocked and exhausted by the recounting of Mr. Winter’s death. “Would you care to rest a while, Aunt Eleanor?” Natalie stood, preparing to take her leave.
Her godmother grasped her hand. “Natalie, Garrett Castleton will be a wonderful earl. He will bring honor back to his inheritance. Do not judge him by the acts of his father.”
Natalie looked into the woman’s watery eyes. “Of course.”
Walking back to her own chamber, Natalie shivered. Garrett’s own father was a murderer. He had murdered more than once. He would have killed Lilly if she hadn’t escaped first.
Were such traits hereditary? Before she could even contemplate the notion, the memory of Baby Bear licking Garrett’s hand intruded into her thoughts.
Garrett was not like his father. He was not!
Upon reaching her doorway, she nearly ran right into Marcus as he exited Garrett’s room.
“Forgive me, Natalie! My lady,” he corrected himself with a wink.
“Why are you rushing about?” At sixes and sevens, her good humor escaped her in that moment.
But Marcus was oblivious. In fact, bursting at the seams with excitement, he rushed to tell her his news. “I cannot thank you enough for suggesting to your mother that I valet for His Lordship.” A grin spread across his face. “I am to valet for him henceforth! He has asked me to travel with him to Maple Hall and take up the position permanently. We leave at first light, tomorrow.”
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