Wynthall Manor- The Wynthall Manor Trilogy

by Brianne E Pryor

  “But how are we to know that she left of her own choice?” Bondeville reminded, not knowing that his friend spoke only to prevent him from pressing further on the matter and that Grey himself was harboring the very lady of whom they spoke on the level above them. “You said only yesterday that you suspected Lord Alex of foul play. Will you not send your men on the hunt if only to save the lady from whatever prison her uncle might have cast her into?”

  Grey was silent for a moment, trying to determine what to say without revealing that he knew anything of Lady Eva’s disappearance or her current location. “Tell me, Bond, why is it that Lord Alex supposes that if I join the search, the lady will be found? Do you not find that strange? Why does he believe my aide to be so invaluable to him?”

  Bondeville shrugged a bit. “Because of the man who saw her near here only a few days ago. She was seen on the road from Lochson to Calgar and we’ve searched every inch of my lands, naturally yours would be the next to eliminate.”

  “Perhaps,” Grey mused. “But perhaps there is another reason behind Lord Alex’s insistence that she is near.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as him knowing from whence she came.” Grey accused the duke’s brother once more. “Perhaps she escaped whoever was keeping her and Lord Alex knows it. If that be the case, he would be desperate to find her before she reveals his scheme.”

  “I suppose that could be possible,” Bondeville thought aloud. “But surely in the three days since she was last seen, the lady would have made herself known if she wished to be. As you said only just now, we’ve no proof that Lord Alex had anything to do with her kidnapping or that she was taken at all against her will.”

  Grey sighed. “I suppose you are right. It struck me strangely though that Alexander seems so determined to have me search my lands.”

  Bondeville chuckled dryly. “You have a very suspicions mind, Grey. However, Lord Alex is disliked does not mean he had anything to do with the disappearance of his niece.”

  “I know that, of course,” the baron assured. “But you must admit he is the only one who had reason enough to do it.”

  “What you say is true, Grey, but I can hardly believe that even Alexander Vastel would stoop so low.”

  “You know what the man is capable of, Bond,” Grey’s expression hardened. “No act of evil is too low for him.”

  The earl’s eyes locked with Grey’s as he spoke cautiously. “You are still suspicious of him, aren’t you, James? You still believe it was he who went after her twelve years ago.”

  With a growl, the baron cast his friend a sneer. “And you are treading on dangerous ground, my lord.”

  Bondeville raised a hand in defeat. “Forgive me. You have plenty of reasons to dislike him other than what he did to Dahl—”

  “Don’t speak of her! I am able to clear my mind for one moment, and then you refresh it. For heaven’s sake, say no more of either women and leave me to my work.”

  Grey’s explosion somewhat startled the earl though he remained despite the baron’s demand. “You know I only mean to help you, James. You are still hurt and it’s been twelve years.”

  “Yes.” Grey’s voice was calm yet strained with sadness as he looked out the window at the midday. “Twelve years of torment, which cannot be relieved nor resolved. But I tell you, Bond, I shall not live with it another twelve years.”

  “Grey, do not talk that way. Imagine what your father would say if he heard you now.”

  The baron huffed. “Do you really want me to imagine what he would say?”

  “He would be terribly grieved to see you suffer this way.”

  “Oh, what world of illusions did my father cast upon you, Bond? He was nothing like what you and all the others thought of him. Were you able to see him for who he was, I assure you, you would have been sorely disappointed.”

  “Grey, your father was a good man, among the greatest of men.”

  “My father was a selfish fool hiding behind his title and barony and ruling my brothers and I as though we were born to serve him.”

  “Your father only ever wanted what was best for you and your brothers,” Bondeville defended the late baron determinedly.

  “I suppose that is why when Henry died, our father did all he could to ensure Owen would be his successor,” Grey retorted angrily. “I suppose he wanted what was best for his favorite son once his heir was dead and his second son running about with the daughter of a fisherman!”

  “Grey, that is unfair!”

  “How? How is it unfair to him when he cared nothing for me until he realized I was in line to succeed him?”

  “He wanted what was best for his barony, James!”

  “He wanted what was best for himself!” Now Grey’s voice echoed off the parlor walls and carried throughout the lower level of the house as he screamed bitter words at Bondeville, who would understand none of what he attempted to convey. “And because of his selfishness he and his favorite son are both dead and the one he wished to die now lives as the Baron de Grey, secluded within the very walls in which he took his final breath. My father was a worthless scoundrel who deserved what was dealt him, and if I believed in God, I would say that He Himself took my father off this earth to better it!”

  “You have said quite enough, James.” Bondeville’s ire too was aroused; he had been nothing less than the best of friends with Grey’s father, whose honor he vowed to protect, though it seemed now against his dear friend’s own son. “I will take my leave now. When you are come to your senses, I hope you will see the need to join the hunt for the Duchess of Dawcaster. Good day to you, James.” The earl turned and strode away, passing Byrum and Merek, who had been drawn by their master’s heated words. Byrum followed Lord Bondeville to the door while Merek approached Grey cautiously. “My lord?”

  Without a word, the baron turned and brushed passed his valet, ignoring the man’s calls as he stormed out of the house.

  ~ 16 ~

  “Maybe your father will understand if I speak to him, James?” Her voice was soft like the gaze she rested upon him, and reassuring though it was of little help.

  The young man shook his head in bitterness. “He will never understand.”

  “Then—then maybe—perhaps we should—”

  “No!” His emphatic reply startled his companion as he stood from the bench beneath the willow where they both sat. “Can you not see? I shall not forget my only chance at happiness because of him. He cared nothing for me before, why should he now?”

  Standing with him, she attempted consolation, “Because your duties have been altered, dearest. You are going to inherit the barony, you will be the Baron de Grey. It is not right for a fisherman’s daughter to be a baroness. You know that cannot be.”

  “Why? Why can’t it be? Stranger things have happened in this country, Del.” A gentle smile crossed the young man’s face as he turned to look into her eyes so light a brown, they were like the muddied riverbank, smooth and soft with a tint of sparkling green. “And you would make the most beautiful, wisest baroness that ever was seen.”

  “You are a flatterer, James Nightten,” she declared as her cheeks tinted pink.

  “I say it only because it is true,” he insisted. “And what my father says or what you or I say shall not matter for it shall always be true.”

  Her eyes bent to the ground as he took her hand in his. “Would you truly leave your father and the barony for only me, James?”

  “As quickly as a buck runs from the hunters. Let Owen be baron as my father wishes. I will have you and we shall all have what we desire.”

  “But you cannot—”

  “I can do whatever I please. If having you means giving up a mere title, which I have despised all my life, then I shall gladly do it tenfold.” Giving her small hand a tight squeeze, he led her back down the path toward the forest, knowing that as long as they both lived she would be his.

  Grey’s void stare beheld his father’s grave as he recalled a vivid memo
ry from years past. One of his last happy moments before all fell out of place, and he lost the only thing he had ever wanted and gained that which had been his torment since childhood. Had he not been entitled to some happiness? he had wondered. What had he done that the world saw fit to punish him so? Was he truly deserving of it? If you were not, then you most certainly are now, he decided as he stared at the engraved name, one of many lain in the resting place on the hill near Wynthall house. It had been some time since his last visit to the sight, a number of weeks since he had come to the place of his family’s resting. Grey abhorred the sight of it. Four graves, which should have been four persons had it not been for the shadow that hung over Wynthall, indeed a curse of sorts that the baron could not seem to shed. But those four were hardly all that might have been empty ground for he had passed the night next to a fifth, too common and of no rank to be numbered among the others so that it might be left within the secluded shelter of the trees and overgrowth.

  Grey turned his head to the east where the forest began, knowing the plot and its mossy stone were there but unable to see it for its surroundings. Oh, how he would have rather passed his time by its lonely side rather than glare upon the graves of his kindred; how he would have been content to lay that night in the weeds and not awaken to spend the rest of eternity there. But that was not to be and inwardly, though he awaited such a time when he might be free from his life, Grey knew it would never come.

  “My lord. My lord.” The call startled Grey as he turned to find Merek making his way across the field where his master stood within the fenced graveyard. In his hand, he could see a letter that he hoped was from the magistrate in reply to his inquiry. “This has just come for you, my lord,” Merek said as he reached the baron’s side and extended the folded paper to him. “It’s from the magistrate, John Fredrick, sir.”

  Taking the message from his valet, Grey wasted no time in breaking its seal and unfolding what he hoped would be the information which they sought. The letter began with formal greetings and then went on to explain that the magistrate had examined his records thoroughly. “After much examination and inquiry, I regret to inform you that I have found no such name as you requested in either the region of Calgar or the surrounding counties of Lochson, Dulet, Eaglehead, and Covingdell.”

  Grey could not hide his disappointment, striking the paper against his trousers in frustration. If he could not locate the man who had purchased the duke’s daughter, most likely from the hands of her uncle, then both men would go unpunished and the peerage would be handed down to the likes of Alexander Vastel.

  “Is there something wrong, my lord?” Merek inquired, but his master reacted not to the question and instead barked an order. “Have our guest brought to the library at once.”

  “Yes, my lord.” Merek followed after the master in direction of the house. If the baron could not prove Lord Alexander’s guilt, then he would be forced to find an alternative route to restoring the duke’s title to its rightful owner.

  Ignoring an inquisitive Byrum as he entered the castle, Grey went straight for the library where he closed the door and looked again to examine the letter more thoroughly, hoping that the man had some idea of where the name Avery might have come from. To his great displeasure however, the letter contained no further information, only the magistrate's expression of regret that he could offer no explanation as to where Grey might have heard the name.

  The baron sighed inwardly as he looked ahead of him at the walls lined with books, maps, and documents. Among them all, and all those of the magistrate, were found not one word of a man—neither common or noble—who went by the name of Avery. Grey concluded that this absence of record could mean only that the name which the old maid had used in reference to Lady Eva’s captor was not his own. But why should she call him anything besides? the baron pondered, this thought conflicting his already befuddled mind.

  As Grey looked up from the letter, the library door opened and Merek appeared with the lady who bowed and looked questioningly at Grey, knowing he must have heard some news from the magistrate. “Thank you, Merek,” Grey remained silent until his valet had quit the room, then he turned to the duke’s very anxious daughter.

  “You’ve heard something of the man who abducted me?” she asked hopefully though she could easily distinguish the troubled expression on the baron’s face.

  Grey nodded, extending the somewhat wrinkled paper to the lady, whose eyes scanned over its contents anxiously only to soon drop, her face falling in disappointment. “He knows nothing of the man,” she spoke sullenly. “Now we shall never prove my uncle’s guilt.” Sorrowfully she looked up at the baron. “There is no other alternative now, Lord de Grey. I must face him. No matter what he does, I must do all in my power to save my father’s good name.”

  Grey shook his head in frustration. “If he is guilty of such a crime against yourself and your father, then he will be the means to your ruin, my lady. You of all people know that.”

  “Perhaps not. However certain I was that he must have been involved in my abduction, perhaps I was wrongfully mistaken. Perhaps he only dislikes me and does not wish me harm?”

  “And you truly believe this, Lady Eva?”

  Eva’s eyes were immediately downcast. “No matter what I believe, I can not allow this to go on.”

  “There must be another way.” Grey rubbed his smooth chin, his mind desperate to concoct another plan that might stop Lord Alex.

  “There can be no other recourse lest we know for certain that it was he.” Eva spoke the dreaded truth, without proof of the man’s involvement in her kidnapping, there was no way to rid Covingdell of him.

  “Could you not cast him out? Tell him to leave and not come back simply because of his disgraceful attitude?”

  “I could, but if, indeed, it was he who had me taken away, I hardly think that would stop him from trying again,” she answered honestly. “He might very well walk out, but would he leave me to myself when he has long wanted to rule the dukedom?” Eva shook her head, mentally exhausted from worry. “It would be simpler to know for certain if it was he who is behind this rather than to wonder at it.”

  “And you cannot be sure it was he whom you heard when you were taken away?”

  “I was certain it was when I first heard it,” Eva admitted. “But it’s been so long, and after a time, I began to believe it wasn’t.”

  “At the time you were certain?”

  Eva nodded, looking up at Grey wearily.

  “It must have been him. But why would he take you away and marry you off when he could so easily become duke if he only …”

  “If he only killed me,” Eva finished Grey’s sentence, shaking her head in despair. “There is no explanation for it if indeed it was he who took me. It must have been someone else.”

  “And you know nothing else that might aid us in finding either the man who imprisoned you or the driver of the wagon?” Grey questioned, beginning to come to the same conclusion that Eva was.

  The lady shook her head. “I’ve told you everything, Lord de Grey. With such little information as we possess there is no possible way to unearth the whereabouts of either man.”

  “And therefore, no way to find out for certain whether Lord Alex is guilty of the crime or not.” Grey spat the words angrily, seeing that the man’s freedom could not be compromised.

  “You must send for my uncle, Lord de Grey.” Eva’s voice was filled with defeat as though she had excepted her ill fate. “Tell him that I am here so he might come for me.”

  “Lady Eva, I cannot do such a thing,” Grey opposed.

  “But you must. There is no other way. Perhaps I am wrong and he will only use me to rule the title. Perhaps my life is not at stake.”

  “Even if his hands are clean of your kidnapping and your life is not at stake, you would accept a life of living under his manipulation and allow him to govern and use you until his death?” Eva was silent and Grey nodded. “I thought not. I will not turn you
over to the likes of Alexander Vastel. If he did have you taken away to be sold, then there is no way to know what he might do now.”

  “Lest we find this man Avery, there is no other way, my lord.”

  Grey said nothing to this, only turned to stare at the curtained window, pursing his lips in vexation. Was there truly no other way to stop Alexander? Had his alleged plan to inherit his brother’s peerage been too masterful for even the lady’s escape to deter it? Was he truly innocent of the crime at hand? Grey wracked his mind for such a scheme that might return Eva safely to Covingdell but could think of none. Finally, he turned again to look upon Lady Eva’s lugubrious form. “My lady, forgive me, but I must ask. Among your acquaintances, have you any suitors?”

  Eva’s face flushed a light pink, though she shook her head. “Not to speak of, my lord. There was a young man whom my father encouraged my attentions toward, but however suitable the match, I fear I harbored no affections though he seemed to on occasion.”

  Grey hummed as he pursed his lips. “Forgive me, I thought that if perhaps you could be offered some sort of protection, Lord Alex might be less a threat to you. If you were not forced to return to Covingdell alone then perhaps he would feel defeated.”

  Eva nodded. “That is true, but I know no one with whom I should entertain such thoughts, nor a relation who might accept the responsibility.”

  Grey nodded as he absentmindedly reached to draw back the drapery covering one of the library windows.

  “I shall have to go back, Lord de Grey.” Eva’s voice was solemn and filled with dread though Grey began to know that however an unhappy situation, she was right. “It’s the only way.”