Saving Marilee

by Annette K. Larsen

  I sat at a little desk in my bright room with the drapes thrown wide and the door open, scratching my heart out onto the parchment.

  Beatrice stepped inside. "Good day, Mistress."

  "Good day, Beatrice." I set down my quill.

  "There's a gentleman here to see you."

  I stood. "Is it Mr. Sutton?" I asked, surprised that I almost hoped it was.

  "No, Mistress. He says he's a solicitor. Says he worked for Master Rockwell and was sent from Winberg castle."

  I sucked in a breath, my body tensing in an instant. I had cast out any and all who had been loyal to my husband, and I had no desire to welcome any such back into my home. "What do you suppose he wants?"

  "Perhaps to discuss the will?" she suggested.

  I wanted nothing more than to toss him out, but I had to take responsibility for my life and surroundings, and to do that I needed to know my position with regards to the house, the estate, the income. Perhaps he could answer those questions.

  I stood, tamping down my trepidation. "Would you ask Mr. Tennsworth to join us?"

  "He's already taken up a post outside the drawing room door."

  A smile tugged at my mouth and I sucked in a breath of courage. "Very good." I traversed the corridor and descended the stairs with Rogue at my side, smiling at Mr. Tennsworth's gruff look and cautiously stepping into the drawing room. A man sat with a leather folio on his lap, his leg bouncing up and down. His fingers drummed on the leather as he craned his neck to look out the window. He didn't notice my entrance.

  "Good day, sir."

  He jumped up at the sound of my voice, barely keeping a hold of the folio as he bowed and fumbled. "Good day, Your Highness."

  Not Lady Mary or Lady Rockwell? That was a good start.

  "My name is Warren Nutley. I was your husband's solicitor. Now that he has passed on, we have a good deal to discuss."

  "Very well. Will you sit?" I asked as I sank into my own chair.

  "Yes, thank you." He shot a nervous glance at Rogue.

  Rogue, on the other hand, seemed not at all concerned by Mr. Nutley's presence, sitting calmly beside my chair.

  "You came from Winberg castle?"

  He was taken off guard by my question, but seemed to shake it off and pull his professional manner about him. "Yes, but I was only there to speak with the duke about your husband's death and see what arrangements needed to be made. I have maintained a residence in the village since your husband took over the running of this house. I've managed his affairs."

  "Why did you need to speak with the duke first?"

  "Your husband always kept his father and brother apprised of his business interests. There were also a few legal questions I felt it best to work out before I burdened you with these matters."

  I wanted to respond in some intelligent manner, but I hadn't a clue where to start.

  "Firstly." He opened his folio and pulled out a thin stack of papers. "Your husband's will is fairly straightforward. You will be given ownership and responsibility for the house, grounds, and business investments according to the standard laws of inheritance. Your husband was an adventurous business man, but a successful one. I have all of the ledgers and information gathered for you." He pointed to a corner of the room where two small crates sat.

  For the next hour, Mr. Nutley gave me what he said was a brief overview of the property and investments I had inherited.

  "So, I now own this house and grounds?"

  "Not entirely. Legal matters take time if we want them done right."

  "Do you expect any problems?"

  "No. And if there are any unforeseen issues, I imagine they could be worked out without much difficulty. Your husband was, after all, the son of a duke, and I expect that once your..." he gestured toward me with an awkward wave of his hand, "circumstances are known, things will move along quickly."

  I nodded, noting his hesitance at mentioning my circumstances and wondering how much he knew, while at the same time, trying to remember everything he had told me.

  "I have to ask, Your Highness..."

  I looked at him expectantly.

  "I managed your husband's affairs while he was living, and I'm happy to continue in that role, but that is your decision."

  As I looked him over, he seemed like a genuine, hardworking fellow—initially nervous and bumbling, but a good sort of man. However, I couldn't trust him, not when Damian had trusted him. It was unfair, but if I hired him, I would always wonder where his loyalty lay.

  "Mr. Nutley, I appreciate the time you've taken to come and explain these matters to me. You've been a great help. However, I find myself needing to be surrounded by an entirely new set of people." It was as honest as I could be without slandering Damian's name. "I thank you for your time, but I will be seeking a different solicitor from now on. I hope that does not offend you." I let out a breath as I waited for his response.

  He didn't seem angry, or even surprised, just took my words in stride and nodded his head. "Very well, Highness. Was there anything else I might assist you with?"

  "No. Thank you."

  "Then I shall bid you farewell." He stood. "If ever I can be of assistance, please do not hesitate to call on me." He bowed, retrieving his now empty folio, and quit the room.

  His lack of anger or drama left me profoundly relieved. Thank heaven for small miracles.

  ***

  My hair was a disaster, but that was no surprise considering the number of times I had fisted my hands in it. Since yesterday afternoon, I had been trying to sort through the ledgers and papers left to me by Mr. Nutley. For each portion of Damian's business records I managed to decipher, there were three more that were incomprehensible. I would have to admit defeat. I wanted to do the responsible thing, to be responsible, but this was beyond my abilities. Running a household I could manage; but there was simply no way for me to take over the running of the estate without help.

  I would have to hire someone, yet there was no one whom I trusted, no one but Mr. Tennsworth, and he was a man of the outdoors, certainly not a businessman. Yet, I knew no one else.

  But as I thought back on my father's letter, the answer to my dilemma was obvious. Despite my battered pride, I would have to ask him for help.

  I pushed the estate records aside and penned a letter to my father, giving him a more detailed account of my situation and asking specifically that he assist me in acquiring a trustworthy contingent of guards, as well as a man of business. If I knew my father—and I did—he would show up at my door with all I had asked and more. The idea of seeing any portion of my family again filled me with both elation and dread. But I swallowed my misgivings and sent the letter.

  Chapter Seven

  THE MORNING WAS chilly, the air fresh. Instead of turning toward the gardens to walk among my flowers as I had nearly every morning since my wedding, I turned toward the stables. It was time for a little exploration.

  I stepped into the dim interior, searching the shadows until I found Mr. Tennsworth. He looked up with a smile. "Miss Marilee. What might I do for you?"

  "Would you be willing to go for a ride with me? I'd go on my own, but I doubt that's a good idea."

  "Right you are on that account. And I'd be happy to take a canter with you." He went to retrieve a saddle. "I do what I can to exercise the poor beasts, but there's only so much these old bones can take. You'll be doing me a favor."

  "Do we need to sell some of them?" I studied the stalls. There appeared to be two stallions and two mares.

  "I'd hate to see any of them go. They're good stock, but it's not too practical to keep them all on."

  I considered that as he saddled two horses. I wasn't attached to any of the horses, since my own had been sold off months ago. I didn't want the horses to suffer because of neglect, so they may very well be better off somewhere else. Still. I hated to give up even more than I already had.

  Mr. Tennsworth gave me a leg up into the saddle and we set off at a walk down the drive, Rogue
following behind us, sniffing and exploring.

  "Where would you like to go, Miss Marilee?" he asked, entirely at ease.

  My eyes found the hill just above my gardens. A place so close to my home, yet unexplored. "I'd like to see the view from the top of that hill."

  He nodded. "The trail starts just up yonder."

  I nudged my horse ahead and was just about to turn onto the trail when the sound of an approaching horse caught my attention. James Sutton was trotting down the hill, his eyes bright and focused on my face as he negotiated the last turn and pulled to a stop in front of me.

  He doffed his hat and bent his head. "Highness."

  "Marilee, please."

  "Marilee," he corrected with a smile. "How do you fare this morn?"

  "I am well. And you, sir?"

  "Better now that I face the prospect of riding with you. Might I join you?"

  His obvious eagerness made me breathless, though I didn't know why. "Of course, but it looks like you've just come from where I was destined."

  He glanced behind him. "The hill?"

  "Yes."

  His smile widened. "It's my favorite ride. I'm happy to make it again."

  We set off side by side, climbing at a leisurely pace, with Mr. Tennsworth following at a discreet distance.

  "That's a fine horse you've got there." He nodded toward my mount.

  "Thank you. I would return the compliment, but I really have no idea if your horse is a fine one or not."

  He laughed out loud and the sound echoed off the hillside, bouncing back and allowing me to enjoy it a second time. It was the sound of pure joy, a sound I hadn't heard in far too long. It sparked a light in my soul.

  "My horse is, indeed, a fine one. I have a passion for horses, thus those in my stables are always of a higher caliber."

  "Horses are your passion?"

  He cut his eyes over to me, taking a moment to answer. "One of them."

  "Mr. Sutton—"

  "James."

  "Yes, James. Would you have any interest in taking on some of my horses?" It seemed a perfect solution. I knew I could trust him to care for them.

  "You're selling them?"

  "It would be selfish of me to keep them. I can't give them the proper care or exercise."

  He considered for a moment. "I would be happy to take on one or two, and I know several gentry in the area who might be interested in a horse."

  I nodded in approval.

  "Will you forgive an impertinent question?" he asked.

  My brow furrowed. "I don't know. You'll have to ask and see."

  He looked down to hide his smile and I wondered why, but he schooled his features, looking apologetic as he asked, "Are you lacking funds? Is there not money enough to hire a couple of grooms? Is that why you let most of your staff go?"

  Of course that would be the conclusion everyone came to. What other reason could I possibly have for living with so few servants to do my bidding? I tried to order my thoughts as he swayed in his saddle, no doubt worried he had offended me.

  I braced myself for another round of honesty. "In truth, my decision to let the staff go had nothing at all to do with money."

  He waited for me to explain, but saying the words took a great deal of effort, so I tried to approach it a different way. "You yourself confirmed my suspicions that Damian had created a reputation for me outside my home. Those inside my home believed even worse, and because of my status as a mad woman, they all helped to keep me under control, as Damian called it. I had no wish to continue employing people who had been poisoned against me."

  "Why did you not replace the staff?"

  I gave a helpless shrug. "I have no way of knowing whom I can trust. I have already proven that I am a terrible judge of character." I fixed my eyes on the line of trees to our left, sorting through my reasons, grasping for my own logic. "I don't need more servants." I stated the realization out loud, then lost myself in thought again.

  Only the plodding of the horses filled the air and I turned to see why James had fallen silent. His gaze was fixed on me, his brow furrowed.

  "What?" I asked.

  "For someone who grew up in a palace, with more servants than anyone in the country, that is quite shocking."

  "It's amazing how your views can change when you've had the selfishness ripped out of you." I swallowed, but the bitterness remained.

  His jaw tensed. "And who was it that forced it out of you?"

  "Is that an honest question?" I couldn't help the bite in my words. He knew the answer.

  "I remember the way you were when you first came to Bridgefield."

  I pulled my chin in, wondering at the change in topic. "You mean during the one party Damian allowed me to host? I barely held myself together during that fiasco."

  "Before that."

  I scrunched my brows together. "That was the only time we could have met."

  "Look." He pointed with his chin and I looked out at the view. We had crested the hill, which afforded us a grand view of the Bridgefield gardens spreading out below us.

  The house and grounds looked charming from this vantage point, but I turned back to him. "What about it?"

  "I ride along this trail every morning at the same time. I have for years. I knew the day that Sir Damian had returned with his bride because I watched as a great number of trunks were unloaded from two carriages that sat out front. I didn't think much of it, but as I passed by two days later, admiring Bridgefield's gardens as I always do, I saw two people strolling in the garden."

  My chest tightened. I remembered it well.

  "I discovered that you and your husband seemed to be as punctual about your outing as I was, because I saw you both each morning, for thirteen days."

  My eyes burned as I recalled the disappointment of the fourteenth day.

  "The next day you were alone. I didn't think much of it, but then you continued to walk the gardens alone almost every day after that. Each day you walked slower, your movement less sure. It felt like I was watching the life slowly drain out of you."

  I pulled my gaze away and realized I was rubbing my hand over my scar again. I clenched my fist to make it stop.

  "It was a sad thing to watch, but it made me ill when I rode by about a week after that one party, and saw you in your new wardrobe."

  He fell silent and all I could hear was my pathetic attempts to breathe normally. I felt his gaze on my face, but I just stared down at the gardens of Bridgefield. I had tried to understand when Damian quit our walks. It had hurt when he called me demanding, but I had tried to be better.

  It was never enough. He hadn't wanted my exuberance, nor my cheerful demeanor.

  I dared to look back at James. His lips pressed together as he shook his head. He forced a sigh before turning to me. "I never understood how you could have married him, and now that I've spent a little time with you, now that I know you just a little, I am even more baffled."

  It felt like a reprimand and I straightened my spine. So, he thought he knew me.

  "You had a choice, didn't you?"

  I nodded, ready to let him know just a little more of what I was. "I did have a choice. And I chose him." I tried to harden my gaze. "Because I'm self-centered and shallow. Because he was handsome and charming and titled. Because I'm silly and ridiculous and can't see beyond my own vanity."

  "I didn't mean to suggest—"

  "I'm just giving you an honest answer. That's who I am."

  "The way you describe yourself...that's not what I've seen in you."

  "I've been transformed?" Crushed, molded, and left to dry in the sun.

  "You said just a moment ago, that you have had the selfishness ripped out of you. Do you believe that after the life you have lived, you could be the same person you were before?"

  My eyes stung and I turned away. How could I explain how much I longed to be that girl? Yes, I had been selfish and vain, but I had been joyful. I had loved life. And I wanted desperately to fall in love with life
again.

  "Thus, my answer is yes," he continued. "I believe you've been transformed, and I believe you are better for it."

  My muscles seized up. So that is what drew Mr. Sutton to me. I had started to think his interest lay in coming to know me. I had been wrong. "Better for it?" It was more of a hiss than a whisper. "I have become what all men wish for? A soft, malleable, unassuming wife?" I yanked on the reins, turning my mount in the other direction. "Thank you for your observation, Mr. Sutton."

  I heeled my mount into a gallop, breezing past Mr. Tennsworth. Rogue gave a single bark before bounding after me. I didn't stop until I had reached my own stables. Why was I surprised? Had I really let myself believe that Mr. Sutton might care for the cast off, mad widow of Damian Rockwell?

  I was just leading my horse into a stall when Mr. Tennsworth galloped into the yard. He slid from his saddle and fixed me with a curious stare as he pulled the reins over the horse's head and started toward me. I averted my eyes and closed the stall door.

  "You want to let me know why you just rode away from that man as if the devil himself were chasing after you?"

  I considered walking away without an explanation, but had too much affection for the old man to be so rude. "I've finally come to understand why Mr. Sutton has befriended me."

  "Have you now?"

  "I'm sure it's very convenient for him to meet a woman who has already been broken. It means less work on his part."

  A short "Hm," was his only reaction.

  My heart dropped. I hadn't realized until that moment that I had been hoping I was wrong, that I'd overreacted, misunderstood. His words could have meant something else. I shoved my hurt aside.

  "Did you know that I've known James Sutton since he was a young one?"

  I shook my head, hoping he would just make his point.

  "He was a playmate for the Rockwell children for many years."

  My chest quivered, disgust writhing within me. He had been their friend? He had known, and liked and befriended my husband? How had I let him slip past my defenses?

  "Course, as they got older, James and the boys became more rivals than friends." He guided his horse into the stall as he talked. "Damian and Edmund were always trying to impress their father. Damian caused a lot of damage that way, and James was usually there to pick up the pieces. He looks out for people."