Wynthall Manor- The Wynthall Manor Trilogy

by Brianne E Pryor

  Suspended overhead in the darkness, crystals of an unlit chandelier, which Grey recalled from his childhood, scattered bits of reflected light about the large room. The dimmed beauty of the parish interior held his attention for but a moment before it was drawn by the figure who now knelt before the cross, head bowed in humble prayer, which was only silence to Grey as he slipped through the door. He watched the hunched form of what he now saw was a woman but could not distinguish a face. The baron felt as though he were intruding, and yet he moved forward with gentle steps, allowing his eyes to roam the dark corners, remembering the last time he attended a sermon with his father and brothers at his side. He recalled how loving his father had seemed when under the watchful eyes of the villagers and priest. How he had appeared the perfect head of any household and the greatest of all men to those whom he ruled. Grey recalled how happy they must have seemed to those whom they made their greetings to, smiles of happiness shielding the truth.

  If only they had known of the goings on within this dreary place, he thought. They would not be so hasty to defend their beloved baron then. An inadvertent sigh escaped Grey’s lips as the realization of this fact struck him with the memories of his childhood hiding tears and anger behind smiles of contended happiness. It was only in that moment that he remembered the figure who had led him through the field, whose ear soon caught the baron’s sigh in the room's stillness. With a gasp of surprise, the woman ascended from her knees, facing him with her features revealed in the lantern light. The flicker of the flame made her blond locks appear golden as they fell over her shoulder and down her black dress. The sea in her eyes sparkled with surprise and a hint of fear, which soon melted away as the baron straightened his posture and bowed to her.

  “Forgive me, my lady. I did not know it was you.” His apology was uttered quickly and with a tone she had not yet heard—a quiet, gentle one, which caused her fear to slip away.

  “You needn’t apologize, my lord.” Her voice was low, barely loud enough for him to distinguish from down the hall. “I imagine you must have seen the light and feared I was an intruder.”

  Grey nodded. “I did see the light. Not many of my servants venture out at such an hour, I thought I had better ensure all was well.”

  “Naturally. I do not blame you.” The lady attempted to conceal the wavering of her voice, but Grey had already heard it and could almost see the tears staining her cheeks.

  “I am sorry for having disturbed you,” he said once more. “Do excuse me.” The baron turned to leave when the voice of Eva Vastel brought his moving figure to a halt. “You needn’t go, my lord. You have not disturbed me. I could not sleep and thought a moment of prayer might be of help.”

  Grey nodded though he did not quite understand how kneeling before an altar would settle her nerves. He had spent many years before the very place and it had not ended his suffering only stood by while it worsened. “Sleep seems to be absent this night, my lady. I, too, could find none.”

  “I am sorry. Coming out after me hardly aided you, sir.”

  “I had no desire to sleep,” Grey admitted, finding himself almost glad that he had been given a reason to evade a torturous slumber.

  Eva nodded in understanding though her mind seemed to roam as her eyes turned again to the cross. “You have a lovely parish here, Lord de Grey.” The lady ended a momentary silence. “All the time that I’ve been away, it feels as though it has been an age since I was in a church.”

  “I must admit it has been some time since I have stepped foot in here myself,” Grey responded, not attempting to hide his absence from the place.

  Lady Eva turned to behold his face in the shadows with a curious hint in her eyes. “Indeed? Do you not believe in God, sir?”

  The baron raised his brow, his eyes roamed again over the dark corners of the building. “I did once.”

  “But no longer?”

  “I no longer believe He is what I once thought. If there is a God all loving as the Curate so makes Him, then surely He would save all mankind from the terrors of this world, and yet it grows ever darker and more violent still.”

  Eva nodded, understanding Lord de Grey’s bitter words. “Perhaps,” she conceded. “Or perhaps He has already shown this world His liberation?”

  Grey frowned. “If only that were the case, my lady. But I shan’t see how.”

  Eva turned and looked toward the crucifix still lit by the single candle. “Perhaps that is how, my lord. Perhaps his defeat of death was all He need do?”

  Grey shrugged a bit, not having given the thought much of his time. “I suppose. Nevertheless He has had nothing to do with me. No prayer I ever prayed changed any course.”

  Eva looked again to where the baron stood by the door and sighed a bit. “But a prayer is often granted in ways that we do not see, my lord.”

  “Yours perhaps, my lady, but as I said, God has little to do with me.”

  “I should think He cannot always grant each prayer,” Eva spoke as her eyes wandered again. “I have asked for many things that He could not give to me for reasons of His own, which were not of my knowing. I prayed that I would one day see my father again, and however it shall not be on this earth, I know that I shall one day.”

  “And there you have it,” Grey spoke bitterly. “The most important prayer of your life, the one thing you desired more than all else, and this God has failed you.”

  Eva lowered her head to look upon the dark floor and Grey immediately regretted his words. “Forgive me, my lady. I ought not to have spoken.”

  Eva shook her head as she looked up at the baron once more. “He has not failed me, Lord de Grey. God is not a wishing well to grant us each our desires. Not everything is meant to be or can possibly come to pass. Though I shall not see my father again on this earth does not mean forever. He is watching over me now and will one day hold me in his arms again and that is all because of God’s love.”

  In the silence that followed, Grey pondered these words, giving thought to them when in moments passed he would have brushed them away. Were the words that the duchess spoke with such devotion so filled with truth as she made them sound? Did this God she had come to pray to in her sleeplessness care anything for the second son of a self-absorbed English baron? Of course He does not! Grey huffed to himself. If He did she would not have died when I pleaded so fervently for her life.

  “Lord de Grey, are you well? I did not mean to give offense.” Eva’s voice brought Grey back to reality where the two stood in the dimly lit church, he in the aisle and her at the altar gazing upon him.

  “No, you’ve done nothing of the kind, Lady Eva,” he assured. “I have intruded long enough on your privacy. I shall wait for you outside, you ought not walk back alone at this hour.”

  A gentle smile graced the young woman’s features as she answered his kind offer. “I thank you, my lord.”

  Grey bowed once more and then slipped through the double doors, closing them behind him and turning to face the darkened forest with the moonlit treetops and the towering walls of the manor blackened against the distant mountains. Grey sighed as he thought of the lady left behind him in the parish, kneeling before the crucifix and praying to a God he was sure did not exist or if He did cared not for the people of the world. Eva’s short speech reminded him much of another young woman who had spoken as keenly for the same God, which Eva proclaimed. She too had often reminded Grey of his many blessings and of her own, all she claimed given from the loving hand of God. If, indeed, they were both in the right and their God loved them as they claimed He did, then Grey could only reconcile that God wanted nothing to do with him, just as he wanted nothing to do with God.

  The time was short until Eva opened the parish door and stepped into the moonlight, holding the lantern in her hand low so that her tearful eyes might not be seen. Carefully Grey extended his hand and relieved her of the lamp, raising it so that he might look upon her dampened skin where she had attempted to wipe the tears away. On impulse, the
baron offered his arm to the young woman, who looked up into his face for only a passing second before looping her hand over his forearm and allowing him to lead her back across the field toward the line of trees alongside Wynthall. Together they walked in silence until the rock of the parish church was but a black wall in the night. A cool wind began to blow up from the riverbed, and Grey felt a chill run through his companion’s arm and onto his own. Though she kept her distance, the gap was made smaller as she attempted to escape the cold breeze which cut through the fabrics of her black maid’s dress. Grey drew his arm closer to himself, hoping the lady would not notice the gesture to move her neared to him. What are you doing, James? What are these feelings you imagine? They are nonexistent, you fool! Do you dare forget Dahlia? Grey’s arm loosened again, pulling him further from her. She was cold, I was only attempting to be gentlemanly.

  What would she think of you if she could hear you now? Arguing with yourself like a demented fraud! But that’s quite the correct description, is it not? You are a demented fraud just like your thoughtless father.

  “My lord?” Grey turned his eyes to land on Lady Eva, who focused ahead at the manor drawing near. “Thanks to the generous care of your staff, I am certain now to be recovered enough to return to my home.” Her voice was steady yet mournful. “I can no longer trespass on your kindness and leave Covingdell unattended in the hands of my uncle.”

  Grey ventured no reply, void of any answer that might dissuade the lady from doing what any noble would, the duty of her birth and rank. “I wish you would delay, my lady. If at all possible, we will discover some means to put Lord Alex where he belongs.”

  “If he is even guilty of what was done to me.” Eva sighed, looking off into the wooded groves. “Perhaps I only wish him to be so that I might rid myself and my region of his disgrace. Perhaps it was the fault of the man called Avery and him only.”

  “Even so, my lady, to return to Covingdell now with no protection would be unwise.”

  “But it is my duty, Lord de Grey. I know you understand such a thing for you too have a duty to fulfill to Wynthall and Calgar and all the people under your rule.”

  Grey nodded. “I do understand it, but your duty is also to see that the Duchess of Dawcaster is not manipulated by a more forceful power to inflict hurt on Covingdell and taint on the Vastel name. Lord Alex is a greedy, powerful man who not even His Grace the Duke could overthrow.”

  “My father did everything within his power to protect the peerage from Uncle Alex. But he could not forget his brother, he could not cast off his flesh and blood.”

  “I daresay Lord Alex knew it and used his brother’s affections for his own gain.” Grey’s voice was no longer calm but tinted with anger.

  Eva nodded, unable to deny this. “He did. Every ounce of money my father lent him he gambled away and then returned to Covingdell in a drunken, indebted rage demanding my father’s help. He aided his brother only to prevent more disgrace, hoping that one day he might change his ways, but he of all people knew that my uncle would never change.”

  “And now he will either have your title for himself, or he will rule it over you lest he be stopped.”

  “But better to try and manipulate me than have no one to stand between him and the honor of my father’s name. Better I am the duchess and the rightful holder of the peerage, even under his demands, than him become duke and bring shame to all of Covingdell.”

  “So long as he lives, he will shame your father’s name,” Grey spat. “Unless he can be put away quietly, then he shall live free to do harm not only to your life but the lives of others. Damage that cannot be undone, not even by the duchess if she gives in to his power.”

  All was silent again as the two neared the trees lining the western walls of the manor. Grey could feel Eva’s fingers holding to his forearm tighter as she craned her neck to look upon his prominent jawline and askew black hair. “Lord de Grey, pray tell me the truth of it. What has my uncle done to you? What has he done to fill you so full of hatred for him?”

  Much to Eva’s surprise Grey stopped their pace only a few yards from the house, staring at the grounds though he seemed to see beyond them to another time. She looked up at him unable to discern his expression in the darkness for he held the lamp low. “You want to know?” His voice was impassive, as though he were numb to his own thoughts.

  “I do,” she answered with surety.

  “It is not a pleasant tale, I warn you.”

  “It does not matter. I want to know.” Grey sighed in defeat and opened his mouth though no words came for a long moment. Finally he spoke, preparing to tell a tale he had uttered to not a soul before. “Your uncle and I were once very close, Lady Eva.” He made the admittance with no emotion, only a tone deadened by years of grief. “We were once the best of friends…”

  Grey felt the duchess’s fingers loosen from his arm and saw her step back from him, obviously startled by his admission. “Friends?” she whispered.

  Grey nodded, still looking ahead at the grounds. “You needn’t be uneasy, I said once, our friendship—as it was—dissolved very suddenly.”

  Eva cocked her head a bit as curiosity overcame any fear she might have felt. She remained silent, however, allowing the baron to continue.

  “Alexander was only nine years my senior and I was but a boy in need of companionship. His father and elder brother—your father— had little time for him as did my own for me. I believe that was the grounds for our friendship, in that we had such similar upbringings and neither one felt the affection from our families that children ought to feel. His brother was so much older and mine cared little for me, so naturally we had a bond of similarities. We spent much of our playtime in each other’s company. I, being much younger than Alexander, looked up to him as though he were the brother mine failed to be. But you of all people know the character of Alexander Vastel. He was the son of the duke and thought he could do as he pleased. I, too, thought he was above all things and began to believe that as his friend, I was counted among the highest of nobility. We would go into the village and play awful pranks. He would steal, bully, and threaten those who tried to take him in hand, and he did it all with myself at his side bowing to his every command.”

  Grey glanced away from the horizon to see his young companion watching him intensely, her eyes filled with surprise at all that he had revealed. Never had she imagined that this baron whom she had never met or even heard his name would have been such good friends with her uncle. Something terribly unfortunate must have occurred to sever the relationship so.

  The baron again turned his eyes away from Eva’s, dreading the telling of the rest of his wretched tale. “I spent much time with Alexander and made myself to believe all he did was within his right as the son of a duke. I came to believe that he cared for me as a brother and wanted to teach me things my own never cared to. I followed him and obeyed him as though I were a slave forced to do whatever my master bade me. I was so young and so under his influence that I thought the other children disliked us out of jealousy because that is what he assured me of. But then… then the day came in which he went too far.”

  Grey drew in a breath, his jaw clenched at the memory. “I knew not right from wrong, but I knew what hurt was and one day he attempted to inflict such hurt, and for the first time in my life, I went against him. We were both older, I fifteen and he four and twenty, hiding just off the road, waiting for some farmer to come by so that we might rob him of whatever he possessed or spook a horse and have a good laugh, but the person who passed down the road first was not the old farmer … It was a young girl, one of the fisherman’s daughters. Alexander emerged from our hiding spot and made advances to which she made every effort to ignore. This angered him and he took hold of her. She tried to pull herself away while I stood helplessly to the side trying to convince him to be done with her and come along. But he paid me no heed. She struck him and I saw his face flush with anger, he threw her to the ground and she screamed.” Gre
y shook his head as he looked up to the black sky. “Her scream ripped something within me in two. I ran at him, and he was so surprised he toppled over. We fought, but I was no match for the strength of the elder man. I am certain he might have killed me if the old farmer had not then come by with his wagon. Alexander left me bleeding on the road, and he ran away into the forest back to Covingdell. The old farmer took me back to my father, who scolded me endlessly and made me apologize to Alexander and his father the duke for my unruly behavior.”

  “He made you apologize?” Eva exclaimed, aghast.

  Grey nodded. “Because I had gotten into a fight with the duke’s son.”

  “But did neither of them know of the girl whom you were trying to protect? Did they not know what Uncle Alex had done?”

  Grey shook his head as he looked back at Lady Eva. “They did not care, my lady. As for the girl, Alexander said only that I had attacked him out of anger and I did not contradict him.”

  “But why, my lord?”

  “They would not have believed me. All was better for me if I did not make arguments.”

  Eva shook her head in disgust. “How appalling. To think that my uncle was allowed to get away with such a thing as this.”

  “It was not the first time he had gotten his way, nor would it be the last. Needless to say, our friendship after that was sorely nonexistent. I stayed at home, away from him, and he made no attempt to contact me.”

  “What of the girl?”

  At this, Eva was surprised to find a half smile cross the baron’s shadowed face as he again looked off toward the distant mountain only a thin line to discern it from the dark sky.

  “Dahlia,” he spoke her name with a gentle ring. “Her name was Dahlia…”