by Abby Ayles
“You think them bound to return?” Amy asked.
Mr. Beauregard turned to her. “Oh, I am quite certain. Without a doubt, we have not seen the end of it.”
Judith was inclined to believe Mr. Beauregard was right. The terrain was terrible enough that they could not travel. If the downpour continued, they would have to remain at Dunham for a while to come.
Of course, she kept this thought to herself.
“Thank you, Mr. Beauregard. I shall have the letters ready before nightfall.”
“Then, if the calm remains, I shall have them sent at dawn.”
He turned as he finished speaking. Judith knew that meant he would not be further delayed by any discussions.
They visited the library next.
It was just as everything else in the house; very large. The shelves reached up to the high ceiling. There seemed to Judith that there was no less than a hundred of them, each filled with all kinds of books.
She took it all in, knowing that she would return later. Even then, her hands itched to feel all the books, to see what wonders lay inside them.
“Well, that will be all for today, ladies. I must take my leave. Please be reminded that this tour is simply so you may both find your way about easily. There are parts of this manor that are shut and out of bounds. I would beg that you not let your curiosity get the better of you and wander into those parts.”
Again, he had passed on a message swiftly, yet very firmly.
“We understand,” Judith replied, nodding.
He appeared to be pleased by this.
“I am glad. So, is there anywhere else the ladies would like to visit?”
Judith was about to say no, but a sudden thought came to mind. Her eyes brightening, she smiled at Mr. Beauregard.
“There is one place.”
***
The walk to the kitchen was long but, eventually, they arrived. As they did, Judith was greeted with an assortment of aromas.
She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply, so they would fill her senses, leaving her mesmerized.
“I have never smelled anything so heavenly,” she said as her eyes opened.
“Sarah is always cooking. There is often more than enough to go around several times. She has a gift for it, but she also has passion.”
An elderly woman appeared before them. She was tall, with wide hips and a pronounced waist that seemed fitting for her body. Her bosom was large. All in all, she was quite a beauty.
There was such a charming smile on her face, Judith could not help but fall in love with her immediately.
“Ye must be the lady the master has accepted as his guest.”
It was a statement rather than a question, but Judith nodded anyway.
“Ah … nice to finally meet ya, milady. Ye have no idea how much it thrills me to have more someones to cook fer. His Grace,” she shook her head pitifully, her lips downturned in disapproval. “dinnae eat well. Mr. Beauregard here, he tries. Alas, it’s been too long since I had guests to cook fer. Glad yer staying here for some time still.”
Judith smiled at Sarah. Watching her speak had simply made her fall harder in adoration. The cook appeared to be the only person in the household who was cheery and warm.
The woman’s accent betrayed her Scottish roots, although she had lost some of her burr.
“I, too, am glad that I am here, Sarah. Eating your meals has been such a delight! Your cooking is simply divine! After eating that grand meal at dinner last evening, and breakfast today, I knew I must come say thank you and congratulate you myself.”
Sarah’s eyes twinkled as her cheeks blushed red.
“Pshaw, certainly, ye dinna mean tah flatter me so.”
“Quite the contrary. I meant every word I have just said. You have my undying gratitude.” Judith paused and turned to the servants who had waited on them.
“I must thank all of you, too. You have been most wonderful to me.”
They too blushed, and Judith could tell that they seemed taken aback.
The women dropped into shallow curtsies, muttering replies Judith failed to make out. Sarah was the one who spoke for them.
“A good thing ye have done, milady! You honor us.”
Judith, for the first time since watching Mr. Giraud breathe his last, began to feel a little better about herself.
She had been right to come here. It was a step in the direction of becoming a better person and righting her wrongs.
Perhaps it might also be the start of the returning the light, joy, and warmth to this household again.
She smiled at Sarah again. “You are all most kind.”
Just then, Mr. Beauregard broke his silence. “Will that be all, my lady?”
She turned to him. “Yes, thank you.”
“Then, I shall take my leave. Please enjoy the rest of the day as you see fit.”
He rose, bowed his head, then turned to leave.
As he did so, Judith felt it again … eyes hidden in the dark shadows, watching her. She turned quickly but, as always, saw no one.
Shaking her head, she tried to rid herself of the notion that there could possibly be ghosts.
It must be someone in the household who did not want to be seen, playing wicked tricks on her.
She would not allow it to bother her.
With that in mind, she turned to Amy.
“Come, Amy. I think it is a good day to embroider.”
“I cannot say I disagree, my lady.”
Bidding the Sarah and the servants goodbye, the pair took their leave of the kitchen.
Chapter 11
Stephen stuck to the shadows as Lady Judith went on her way, taking great care not to be seen.
He knew she could sense his presence, was aware that she was being watched. It was a good thing he still had good reflexes. Otherwise she would have caught him a long time ago.
He was aware that he was being a rude host. Why must he choose to stay in the shadows, when he could simply reveal himself and have his fill of the sight of her?
At first, he had good reason to watch from a distance. She was a guest in his home, and even when he was not yet ready to show himself, he had been curious about her.
He had wondered what she looked like, what kind of lady she was, eager to know if he had made a good decision in taking the two women into his home.
All entirely reasonable.
Ah, but when he had at last laid eyes upon her, something strange that had not happened in a long while occurred. Something had shifted in his heart.
He had planned to remain in the shadows a little longer. Perhaps even to the very end of their stay. However, he had been unable to help himself.
She seemed very gracious.
After the scene he had spied in the kitchen, he could very well say she was also kind and humble.
She was also truly beautiful.
Her hair, so long and lush, was golden, like the sun. Her eyes were the green of the forest. Vivid, gorgeous.
When he had arrived at dinner the evening before, he had no idea what to expect. Alas, the stirring inside of him had grown as he beheld her face.
His breath had almost caught in his throat, and he had had to take great care to get his heart to beat again.
She was simply breathtaking. He had not thought in such a way as that about any lady, any woman at all, in fact, since … since Abigail.
The feeling had both awed and discomforted him. Which was not a big surprise, given he had become a recluse by his own volition, keeping himself locked away from the world, having Thomas attend to most estate business. He himself had scarcely had to speak with anyone outside his household in a long time.
Still, there was something about Lady Judith. And he knew it was her who was affecting him so, because her maid did not.
He had been aware of her gaze on him during the dinner. It had confused him. He hadn’t known what to think. If she was admiring him, if she was afraid, or if she had simply been as curious as himself.
Then, a very small part of him had hoped she had been unable to tear her eyes away because she found him intriguing and even … handsome.
Of course, he had chided himself the moment those thoughts had come to mind, aware that they were nothing but wishful thinking.
The meal had been lovely, and he would have stayed longer. If only she had not asked that question about my...
He heaved a sigh.
He felt terrible about leaving so abruptly. It had been rude, but it could not have been helped.
Everyone in Dunham knew not to mention … that word … or any word pertaining to it. His pain and suffering were already more than enough to bear.
Alas, this lady, who knew nothing of his past and the memories that clung to these walls, whispering hushed truths in the hallways, had uttered that blasted word.
He had been fortunate to make it to his chambers before giving in entirely to the fit that had so wickedly overtaken him.
How was it that a man who had no physical illness, ailed as much as he did?
His body was fit, but his mind was broken, his spirit despaired, and each day he felt the very life of him was seeping away.
It won’t be long now, he thought.
He wondered if Lady Judith appearing at his gates in his numbered days had anything to do with destiny.
If it was fate, then fate had once again proven herself a cruel mistress.
Yet, he could not deny there was a light about Lady Judith that shone out brightly, as if chasing away the darkness. No one else could see it yet, especially not her, but he could.
She was everything Dunham had not had in a while and it made him wonder…
… about the many things he dared not bring himself to speak aloud. He barely had the courage to think about them. And, even in the dark recesses of his mind, they remained nothing but hushed whispers.
Dangerous whispers he would be wise to take great care not to pay heed to.
***
Five days passed, and Judith and Amy still could not continue their journey. Just as Mr. Beauregard had said, the storms returned after two days of calm, and the weather remained treacherous.
Judith was grateful to have received word about the men employed to return Mr. Giraud to his family.
They had found him and had sent him home with a letter Judith had written for his wife and daughters.
There would come a time when she would see them herself and express her deepest regrets. Until then, she hoped her words in ink would bring some relief to their hearts.
Word had also been sent to her parents and her aunt. Although no reply had yet been received.
She supposed it would be a while until that happened, seeing as no one could risk journeying in such foul weather.
In those days, confined to the manor, she had to make some sort of routine for herself, lest she lost her mind to boredom.
In the mornings, she shared breakfast with Amy. Then, they took a walk in the hallways, stretching their legs.
Afterwards, they settled for tea before noon, in the atrium. There, they would read a book or two. Sometimes, they embroidered. At other times, they simply talked.
As the evening drew near, they returned to their chambers. Some days, she napped, on other days, she sat by her window, watching the rain pour down over the fields, keeping every living thing in their place of shelter.
Then, when the skies began to grow dark, with Amy’s help, she prepared for dinner.
Mr. Beauregard joined them every evening. However, the duke had declined to grace them with his presence after that unfortunate night.
She still felt those eyes watching her, but she had ceased to concern herself with the eerie feeling. Ghosts did not exist. Whoever it was, was human and, in no time, they would be caught or revealed.
As she took walks through the manor, she began to pay more attention to her surroundings. It was not difficult for her to find evidence that a woman had lived here.
There were touches of her life at every turn. A dainty flowerpot here, a neat garden there, a beautiful flowery painting in one hallway, and many romance novels in the library. And the master did not look like the kind of man who would bother himself with such things. Not to mention the dresses she and Amy had been given the very first day they had arrived at Dunham like drowned rats. She was now more certain than ever that these things belonged to the woman who had once lived here.
It was quite apparent that someone had gone to great lengths to erase this mysterious woman’s existence—which merely piqued Judith’s interest all the more.
Finally, one fateful afternoon, she decided to ask Mr. Beauregard about it. She was starting to grasp that he was rather more than simply a butler.
He was the duke’s right-hand man, who did almost everything in his master’s stead.
If the master would not tell her, Mr. Beauregard could.
“Mr. Beauregard,” she started, as she found him in the atrium, reading a book.
He looked up from the book, stared at her over his glasses, and raised his brow in question.
“Yes, Lady Judith? Do you need my help with something?”
She was quick to shake her head. “Not at all, I simply wanted to ask a question.”
He closed the book then and put it aside. She could tell he was already suspicious.
“You have my attention, my lady.”
She knew she did, but suddenly words failed her. Her throat grew dry, and she swallowed hard in a bid to wet it.
He said no words, but his brow raised higher, telling her he was awaiting her question.
Throwing caution to the winds, she suddenly found her courage.
“A woman once lived here, did she not? And no, I am not speaking of His Grace’s mother. I mean another woman, a lady. One who would have been his wife or his sister, perhaps.”
Mr. Beauregard’s face deepened into a frown, and she feared he would rebuke her.
“You shouldn’t concern yourself with such household matters, Lady Judith. You are here as a guest.”
“Yet I have been here a week, and I do not think I shall leave soon. Even if the rain does stop, it would take a while for the roads to be safe for travel, at the very least, as safe as His Grace would want them to be before he would see us go.”
She paused to heave a sigh. “I am not blind, Mr. Beauregard, nor am I denied of my senses. There is so much sadness in this place. So much cold and darkness. I can tell it was not always like this. His Grace is evidently a man in pain. I have reached the conclusion that the duke has lost someone, someone he cared for deeply. He lost his wife, did he not? Please, Mr. Beauregard, I pray you. Satisfy my curiosity.”
Mr. Beauregard said nothing for a long moment. He simply looked at her. Finally, he released a sigh that he must have been holding.
Then, he spoke. “You are right, Lady Judith. A lady did live here. My master was married, and he suffered a great loss. The most horrible kind. There is no joy, or warmth, or light in Dunham because it is in mourning. All that happiness was lost when we lost our dear duchess.”
Judith opened her mouth to speak again, but he must have sensed that she was simply going to ask more questions, so he raised his hand, stopping her.
“Anything more is not for me to say, my lady. Whatever questions you may have still, I cannot answer them.”
“Cannot or will not?”
Mr. Beauregard rose to his feet then. He held her gaze, his unwavering. “To me, there is little difference. Do enjoy the rest of your day, my lady.”
As those words left his lips, he gave a curt nod and took his leave.
Judith knew she would have to be satisfied with the answer she had been given, unless she wished to ask the duke himself and risk suffering his wrath.
He might not be so forgiving a second time.
There and then, she decided to let her questions lie only in her heart.
Chapter 12
The rain finally let up. On the eleventh day, the enti
re household woke to the sight of the golden sun shining brightly above their heads.