“The rumours started again when he came back?”
Hester nodded her pretty blonde head enthusiastically. She was shorter than Madalene and curvier where Madalene had inherited her mother’s slim figure and curly hair.
“The servants at Wrotham talk to some of the servants at other estates and say that they think the manor is haunted. Years ago, there was talk of a young woman wandering the grounds while the current Earl was away at Eton.”
Hester continued. “But she disappeared suddenly and was never seen again. They say it is her ghost that haunts the estate.”
Madalene shivered.
“Because he murdered her,” a female voice said behind them, making both Madalene and Hester jump. “The former Earl, not the current one.”
A young woman stood looking at Hester and her new friend with her hands on her hips and a self-righteous expression on her pretty face. She had bright blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair, and Madalene could tell from a single glance that she had rich parents, likely with pedigrees that could run from one end of the village to the other.
“The Earl is cursed,” the newcomer continued. “The current Earl, not the former one.” She flashed them a snide smile. “Although the late Earl was probably also cursed.”
Madalene didn’t miss the sharp intake of breath from Hester. With a sigh, Hester gave a slight bow to the new arrival and made the introduction.
“This is Isabelle Newton, daughter of Baron Newton,” Hester said with a hint of exasperation. “This is my friend Madalene Montclair. She just moved to the village with her mother.”
Recognition lit the new woman’s eyes.
“Your mother was the one who ran off with the French winemaker, wasn’t she?”
Madalene’s cheeks heated. Her father was so much more than that, but her mother had warned her that the village gossips had reduced her parent’s love story into a more sordid affair than it was. In truth, both her mother and father were from noble families. But that wouldn’t fit the gossip’s narrative, so her father had been reduced to a poor, uneducated vineyard worker. But Madalene was smart enough to know that standing there and trying to educate them on the truth would only mean wasted breath.
“Charming to meet you,” Madalene said as she spun on her heel and began walking the other way, unable to avoid hearing the woman’s harsh laughter.
“I’m sorry about her,” Hester said as she caught up. “If I’d known Isabelle Newton was going to be here, I would have suggested hiding in the broken bell tower. She’s deplorable.”
“A local?” Madalene asked and Hester nodded.
“Yes, one of the worst,” her friend continued. “We don’t have much in the way of higher nobility, so families like the Newton’s take what little prestige they have and try to build little social empires with them. Last year, the Earl of Wrotham’s mother expressed interest in her son courting Isabelle and was refused by Baron Newton. The Baron’s family has far more money than anyone in the county and he claimed that the only reason that the Countess wanted the Earl to marry his daughter was for money. But Isabelle told everyone it was because she could never marry such a dour and sinister man whose family had committed horrible crimes. It was a major social slight and triggered speculation about the Earl again.”
A tiny pang of electricity rang through her chest and Madalene frowned. Was that… was that a bit of jealousy at the thought of the Earl trying to marry Isabelle Newton? Surely, she was mistaken. It was probably a bit of indigestion.
“Do you think that the woman who disappeared was a paramour of the late Earl?” Madalene asked the question before she could stop herself. Hester merely shrugged.
“I don’t think so. Some say that the ghost of the late Earl’s wife – the current Earl’s real mother – haunts the estate because she was angry when the Earl remarried so soon after her death. But I’m hardly an expert on the Wrotham family,” she added. “I only know that the late Earl was a bit of a monster and not a kind man. For all his quirks, the new Earl seems much nicer and treats his tenant farmers and their families much, much better. But he has never denied any of the rumours, nor explained any of the unusual occurrences at the estate.”
Well, at least Madalene had gleaned some background about her hosts today. Gabriel Hatcher was a complex and interesting man, a puzzle waiting to be solved. Surely there was a library somewhere in Warfield Manor with a genealogy or family history.
And surely if she should happen to find her way into said library under the guise of looking for poetry to read, she’d be able to look at whatever documents and histories happened to be lying about, to learn what she could about the family.
After church, Hester walked with Madalene to the carriages and threw her arms around Madalene’s neck in a fierce hug that caught her by surprise.
“You have no idea how happy I am that you’ve come to Warfield,” she said. “I hope to see you again soon — but you’ll have to come visit me at our house. Papa would never let me visit Warfield.”
With that on her mind as she entered the carriage with her mother, Madalene returned to the manor.
Chapter Four
“Will you be joining us today, Madalene?”
The Countess had finished her last bit of toast with jam and nodded to the maid to pour another cup of tea. She lifted it to her lips and blew delicately before taking a sip.
Elizabeth and Pamela had fallen into a ritual of visiting one of the other local ladies each morning, so that Pamela could be respectably reintroduced to the upper-class townsfolk after so many years away. Little did Elizabeth care that her own standing in society was somewhat precarious with the constant rumours and speculation about her deceased husband, and now her son.
Before she had married the Earl, Elizabeth was considered the most sought-after debutante of the Season, with several suitors showing an interest in marrying her. Her father, Pamela’s uncle, was a respected Duke who could choose from among any of the bachelors to become his daughter’s husband. At the time, Elizabeth was friendly with the Earl’s first wife, Henrietta, and would spend hours in her company, walking the gardens with her and their little boy, Gabriel.
The Duke and Duchess were concerned that Elizabeth showed more interest in spending time with an older, married woman than going to dances to find herself a husband, but Elizabeth was a shy, bookish girl, uncomfortable in social situations, so they let it pass.
The Duke had planned to select Elizabeth’s husband from among the many suitors without worrying her with the need to captivate a young man into marriage. Any of the potential suitors would jump at the chance to marry the daughter of the Duke.
When Henrietta died suddenly in childbirth, Elizabeth was inconsolable. Her dearest friend was gone and the toddler Gabriel would sit in her lap for hours, wailing for his mother. Long before an appropriate mourning period had passed, the Earl asked Elizabeth to marry him. She was not certain how she felt about the Earl, but she loved Gabriel and knew that she wanted to adopt him as her own, not only for his sake, but for her dearly departed friend.
The Duke was adamant that the widower was not an appropriate husband for his only daughter. He was many years older than her and he was not known to be the kindest among the ton to his tenants. There was even speculation that he had somehow caused Henrietta’s death by not summoning the midwife when her labor started early. But Elizabeth was stubborn and enlisted her mother’s help, refusing to consider any other husband. Coaxed by his wife, the Duke finally relented and allowed his daughter to marry the Earl, against his better judgment. He regretted his decision almost immediately, when the villagers shared rumours, learned mostly from the servants, about Elizabeth’s barrenness and how she often wept for no apparent reason. Her only joy seemed to come from her constant devotion to Gabriel, while her husband remained aloof and unreachable.
“Madalene?” her mother nudged her to answer Elizabeth’s question.
She did not wish to offend the Countess, but Madalene really
wanted to explore the manor more thoroughly in peace and quiet, hoping to find the library where she could investigate the history of this mysterious family. Other than the morning that they had called on the vicar’s wife, when Madalene had been able to talk to Hester, she found the visits to the other matrons of society rather tiresome, and boring, as few of them had daughters of Madalene’s age.
“If it would be alright, my Lady,” she said, “I am a bit under the weather and hoped that you would not mind if I stayed at home this morning. Might I have access to the library where I can sit quietly and read?”
Madalene caught a nearly imperceptible glance from the Earl to his mother. He had been quiet throughout breakfast, as he was most mornings, before departing for the day, returning just in time for supper each evening. Madalene sensed that she had hit a nerve with the mention of staying home on her own today. Or was it the mention of the library?
The Countess recovered after a slight pause and responded with a sympathetic smile.
“I’m sorry to hear you are feeling poorly, dear. I shall have Gemma bring a wrapped hot brick to your room along with some tea.” She turned to her son. “Gabriel, why don’t you select an appropriate book or two from the library and give them to Gemma to deliver to our dear Madalene’s room.”
Gabriel nodded, and with that, the conversation was closed. It was obvious to Madalene that there would be no further discussion of the matter.
“Well, then, Pamela,” the Countess said, pushing back her chair as the footman held it for her and prepared to escort the two women outside to the carriage. “Shall we?”
Madalene sat a moment longer at the table, unsure of whether to address the Earl directly about her wish to visit the library. She studied his face as he read the morning paper, a ritual he repeated each morning. He was exceptionally handsome, in a rugged way, and she was a bit unnerved that he had practically ignored her since they had arrived. Since the first night when he had caught her in her dressing gown and with uncombed hair, she had made sure that she was well put together whenever she was in his presence, her hair up and curled with ribbons, a bit of rouge on her cheeks and a light airy dress that enhanced her slim figure. Yet he barely seemed to notice her.
The silence at the table since the Countess and her mother had left was becoming awkward. As if he sensed her gaze, Gabriel looked up, his dark eyes meeting hers and she noticed a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Her cheeks flamed instantly and she looked down. She didn’t have much experience being around handsome men.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained, thought Madalene.
“My lord, you do not have to go to the trouble of selecting books for me. I would be quite happy to browse the book shelves at my leisure.”
Gabriel’s eyes locked onto her face and he held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary. Then the Earl gave her a wry smile, took another bite of his breakfast, swallowed, wiped his mouth with the napkin and set it on the table.
“No trouble at all, Miss Montclair.” He lifted his cup of tea to his lips and took a healthy dose of the warm liquid. “The library is quite chilly this time of year and you did say you were unwell. The Countess would never forgive me if your health were to worsen.” He smiled genuinely.
“Actually, it was rather the constant carriage travel to the other estates that has been causing a queasy stomach. Nothing that would prevent me from sitting quietly in the library to read.” Madalene was aware that she was pushing her luck. But if the Earl intended to prevent her from exploring the library, there must be a reason, and she was not going to let him off the hook so easily. She was rather enjoying this verbal sparring match and wanted to see how uncomfortable she could make this for him.
“So you are not unwell.” It was a statement rather than a question, as Gabriel stood up and dropped his napkin on the breakfast table. “Good. I have been planning to show you the estate and it is unseasonably warm today. I trust you can ride?”
~~~~~
Madalene was enjoying herself more than she had anticipated. The air was crisp and cool but the sun had made an appearance and it warmed her face as she lifted it upwards. One of the grooms from the stable, a boy named Maxwell, had joined her and Gabriel on the outing as a chaperone, but he stayed an acceptable distance behind them to avoid intruding on their conversation.
It had been ages since she’d last ridden and it had been her father who had taken her. Her expression must have been wistful when Gabriel first suggested it and he wondered if his invitation had been too bold, causing him immediate regret at his impulsiveness.
“Please do not feel obligated, if you prefer not to go,” he had said in a rush. “It was only a suggestion. I fear I have not been the best host since your arrival.”
His face had been both hopeful and anguished at the same time and it made Madalene smile.
“No, I love riding,” she explained. “It just made me think of my father. We used to ride together often, so it was just a moment of passing grief at the memory.”
Now that she was riding the copper-colored thoroughbred beside the Earl, breathing in the fresh air and the variety of scents from the changing landscape, she felt more relaxed than she had in months. She had surprised him when she met him outside the manor in her riding habit and expertly mounted, settling into the side-saddle without hesitation, and without requiring assistance from the groom. They rode to the far perimeter of his land and she thanked Gabriel sincerely for sharing the experience with her, reliving some of her favorite memories of the rides with her father, her voice catching from time to time.
“It is difficult for you to speak of him - I can hear you are still grieving,” he said as she nodded and wiped away a single tear. Gabriel continued, “I was not close to my father in the least. In fact, you could say I hardly knew the man at all, despite living in his household for almost twenty years.”
Madalene remembered the rumours about what a harsh, cruel man Gabriel’s father had been — a stark contrast to the peaceful, pleasant man her father, Bertram Montclair, had been.
“It is difficult, yes,” she admitted. “Though it gets easier each day. And I try to remember that the last thing Papa would want would be for my mother and I to mourn for very long. He was very much about living each moment to the fullest, and pulling from it as much joy as possible. The thought of me being morose on a perfectly lovely day, having been extended this generous invitation by your Lordship, would not have gone over very well with him.” She pulled herself back to the present and looked directly at Gabriel.
The smile on his face was soft and genuine. “He sounds like a wonderful man. I would have liked to meet him.”
Madalene returned the smile and cleared her throat.
With a mischievous sideways glance at her riding companion, Madalene nudged her horse to a trot and Gabriel followed. Within moments, she had urged the horse to a steady canter and her hair blew about her face as it came loose in the wind. She was having too much fun to care and promised herself that she’d have Gemma fix it as soon as she returned to the manor.
She stole a glance at Gabriel as they rode, matching each other stride for stride, and told herself that, despite the secrets he might or might not be hiding, he seemed a kind man. She found herself forced to admit that she admired him, and thought more highly of him as their time together passed.
A small voice in the back of her mind niggled at her to use caution with the man — that they still had answers to find in that spooky manor before she could truly open her heart up to the Earl of Wrotham. And he had yet to signal any romantic interest in her whatsoever.
Still, they were off to a very fine start, she mused, as she glanced over her shoulder and saw Gabriel laughing as he rode. For one who was always so serious, with so many responsibilities on his shoulders, he seemed to be enjoying himself.
That was good, she reasoned. He was far too young to act as old and burdened as he did.
Soon Gabriel rode up beside her and they eased their horse
s to a walk.
“I had the kitchen staff pack a lunch.” He guided her to a stop near a small clearing of flat grass next to a small brook. There was a large enough hole in the leaf canopy above them to let large streams of light through.
“Perfect,” she said, not knowing whether she meant the moment, the ride, or the man. It didn’t really matter to Madalene at that point, actually. She was having a wonderful time.
Maxwell dismounted and took the reins of all their horses, tactfully informing the Earl that he would walk them around the bend to a watering spot and eat his own packed lunch while the horses grazed.
The Earl should whistle when they were ready to resume their ride, and Maxwell would return with the horses. While the message was subtle, Madalene understood that she and Gabriel would be out of sight of the groom and she felt her stomach tingle with excitement. Was this appropriate? She supposed so. Technically, they were still with a chaperone.
Gabriel had spread a blanket on the grass in the sunshine, but was careful to place Madalene seated with the warm sun to her back so that her fair skin would not burn. They lunched on crusty baguette with brie that reminded Madalene of her home in France, some ripe olives and chunks of chilled roast chicken. They drank lemonade and fell into an easy conversation about the differences between French vineyards and crops grown in the north of England. The afternoon flew by and both Madalene and Gabriel found themselves relaxed and natural in each other’s company. Madalene spoke of her beloved France and the friends that she missed. He told her about his years studying at Eton, and about some of his travels afterwards. She was surprised that none of Gabriel’s reminiscences included tales of the estate nor of his parents.
When the air became a bit chilly, causing Madalene to shiver, Gabriel stood and suggested that they start back to the manor. He held his hand out, reaching to help her stand from her position on the blanket. His hand was warm and dry as he gently grasped hers, and as he lifted her to her feet, she wobbled slightly off-balance and stumbled forward towards him, reaching out her free hand to catch herself against his chest.
Love in the Moonlight: A Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Collection: 7 Delightful Regency Romance All Hallows' Eve Stories (Regency Collections Book 6) Page 18