Wynthall Manor- The Wynthall Manor Trilogy

by Brianne E Pryor

  “Your Grace… you are alive!” Grey cried out in awe.

  Another step the frail man took toward his butler and unexpected caller so that he joined them by the open door. With a huff, his body shook and his aged voice spoke with strain. “If you could call it living. Now tell me the meaning of this impromptu invasion of my privacy at this early hour.”

  Grey bowed before the duke and obeyed his command. “You must forgive me, Your Grace, I am come to see Lord Alex and am quite shocked to find yourself here, sir, as I was led to believe you were dead.”

  “Dead?” the duke raised his brow in intrigue. “I fear I must inform you to the contrary, Lord de Grey. My heart still beats for the most part though its days are extended even now. I hope this revelation is not unwelcome news to you?”

  “No, indeed, Your Grace. I am quite glad and may I say relieved, sir, to find you well for I have something of the greatest importance to inform you of.”

  The duke’s dimmed eyes grew slimmer still as his brow furrowed. “Step inside then. Philip, let the baron through.” The hunched butler tottered backward, pulling the door further ajar so that Grey might step into the castle’s great hall, now able to fully appreciate the grandeur of the duke’s home though it was least on his mind. “Now what is this that desires you come in such a state so early and pound upon my front door?” The duke demanded an answer, though was quite obviously intrigued.

  “Perhaps it would be better, Your Grace, if you were to find a place to be seated,” Grey advised, “for the news I bear will surely come as a shock to you.”

  At this, the duke’s expression grew concerned, disturbed as though he feared the baron’s news. “What have you to tell me, Lord de Grey?”

  Grey hesitated, fearing to shock the man’s frailty of body.

  “Tell me what it is, sir!” he demanded more forcefully, leaving Grey no choice but to comply.

  “It concerns your daughter, Your Grace. She is alive.”

  Though the baron spoke with caution the weight of his words struck John Vastel with a heavy blow. His pale face lost what little color was to be seen and he staggered as if he would fall but steadied himself as Grey caught his elbow. “Please, Your Grace, tell me where we may sit down,” Grey pleaded though the duke only shook his head, righting himself and looking upon the baron with anxious eyes. “No! No, tell me of my daughter! Where is she?” the duke’s fist clutched Grey’s shirt, desperate to know of her whereabouts.

  “That is why I have come, Your Grace. The tale is a complicated one, I daresay, but I assure you she was well only a few hours ago. It is since then that she has disappeared. Taken from Wynthall this very night.”

  The duke shook his head, not understanding what it was Grey attempted to tell him without causing further destruction to his weak heart. “Taken from Wynthall? What was she doing there?”

  “I discovered her ill on the road, Your Grace,” Grey began to explain. “I brought her there so she might recover, but she was stolen away in the night. That’s why I’ve come here because I fear I know the culprit who took her first from you and then from Wynthall.”

  The duke’s fingers tightened on Grey’s shirt. “Who? Tell me who!”

  “Please, Your Grace,” the elderly butler’s voice interrupted. “Please, you must sit down. Over ’ere, sir.”

  Moving as quickly as his aged limbs would allow the man pulled forward a chair from its place against the wall, Grey helping the duke to seat himself in it. “Tell me all, Lord de Grey,” he begged breathlessly. “What has become of my daughter?”

  “I fear we must make haste, Your Grace, time is not in our favor.”

  “Tell me who it was who took her away, de Grey!”

  Grey sighed heavily, hesitant to slander his brother before the duke himself but so filled with concern for Lady Eva that he spoke without remorse. “I am certain it must have been your brother, Lord Alex.”

  “Alexander?” The duke spoke not in anger or as though the news was a shock to him but as though he had feared such a reality.

  “Your daughter spoke of his hatred for her, Your Grace,” Grey began to explain. “And that she thought she had heard his voice among the men who took her away the night she disappeared. She is certain—and I as well—that he must have been the mastermind behind such a scheme, acting in hopes that he might become your heir after it was all accomplished.”

  For the moments that followed the duke was silent, his eyes seemingly fixed on the closed ion doors, seeming nearly at a loss before his expression darkened and anger began to overcome him. “I should have suspected him from the moment she disappeared,” he spoke with bitterness. “I should have cast him out at the first chance that was presented.” The duke shook his head. “And now he has brought hurt upon the only thing that keeps me living.” Turning to the butler, John Vastel barked an order. “Awaken Lord Alex and bring him to me at once!”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The elderly man hobbled off toward the stairs leaving Grey alone with the duke. “Tell me of her, Lord de Grey,” the duke all but begged. “She is well now? Unharmed?”

  “She was well recovered, Your Grace, but as I said, she was taken from my home only a moment before I awoke. I attempted to follow her abductor and then cut him off, but I lost them in the forest. It was this which brought me here fearing Lord Alex must have been part of it all for it was he who told me and all my region that you were dead.”

  “Alexander told you I was dead?”

  Grey nodded. “He did, sir. He told me of your death and then of his intentions to take your place as Duke of Dawcaster lest your daughter was soon found.”

  “When did he tell you this?”

  “Only the day before yesterday, Your Grace. He was attempting to persuade me to aid in the hunt for the lady, but of course, by that time I already knew of her whereabouts. She had urged me most fervently not to let her uncle discover where she was until she could prove him guilty of her abduction, and once she was led to believe you had died, she was in no hurry to return here alone.”

  The duke shook his head almost mournfully. “What grief it must have caused her. And all because of the evils of my greedy brother. But how did he come to know she was at Wynthall Manor when I myself did not?”

  “That I do not know, Your Grace. He came to my home many times while she was there, but I am certain he never saw her. Then only yesterday, he returned in a rage already knowing the truth of it before he even arrived. From whom he learned it I know not.”

  “And now she is gone again.” Rising from the chair with difficulty, the duke cried out in anger. “Alexander shall make an account for this, before myself and then before the Thrown of God!”

  Grey remained silent, the shock he had felt at having seen the duke now subsiding as he realized how the elderly man’s current state of living proved Alexander Vastel’s guilt for there was no other reason in which he would lie so as to put his brother in an early grave. It was him, Grey’s heart felt satisfaction at such a truth as was finally proved though he experienced little comfort while he thought of what lengths the duke’s brother would now attempt that he had his niece in his clutches once more.

  “Well, where is he?” the duke’s voice and the swivel of his head toward the top of the stairs caused Grey to notice the presence of the elderly butler.

  “His lordship is not is his bed, Your Grace,” the man’s words struck Grey with renewed fear for he knew that wherever Alexander was he must have Eva with him.

  “What do you mean he is not in his bed?” the duke exclaimed, realizing the danger his daughter was in if she were in the hands of her uncle.

  “It must have been he who took Lady Eva away from Wynthall, Your Grace,” the baron spoke words that John Vastel dreaded to hear aloud.

  “We must find him,” the duke declared. “If he failed the first time, he will surely not hesitate to…” The duke’s body trembled as his sentence went unfinished though Grey knew what it was which plagued his mind. “Where would Lord
Alexander go to take refuge under such a condition as this?” Grey questioned.

  The duke only shook his head. “I do not know. He is familiar with many a tavern and lodge for one hundred miles in any direction. If you say he was at Wynthall only just this hour, then he has had little time to hide away but plenty enough do with my daughter whatever he planned.” The duke hid his face in his hands, his hunched body shaking with sorrow. “He will kill her. I know he will.”

  “Please, Your Grace, we must not give up hope of finding her.” Grey attempted to console the duke though he himself was beginning to doubt. You have failed again, James. Yet another will lose her life because of your foolishness, the inescapable hatred which he harbored for his own self taunted him once more. But what of you? He was suddenly reminded. What of Alexander’s mistaken belief in a union between yourself and Lady Eva? If he still plans to marry her off to this man Avery then his plans have been cast awry.

  “We must waste no more time here,” Grey spoke anxiously, telling not of his lie to the duke for fear of his reaction. “You are certain there is no particular place in which Lord Alex might seek refuge, Your Grace?”

  The duke shook his head. “There are so many, it would take you a fortnight to cover even half of them.”

  “Are there no particular friends with whom he might stay who would not expose him? Lady Eva spoke of a man who kept her prisoner during these past months whom we’ve been trying to locate but to no avail. She said his servants addressed him as Master Avery.”

  “Avery?” The duke looked up at Grey with a sudden look of horror overcoming him.

  “Do you know of him, Your Grace?” Grey asked anxiously.

  The Duke nodded. “I know where this Avery is, Lord de Grey, and if my daughter is with him, then we must act hastily.”

  ~ 29 ~

  The early morning sun was what aroused the young heiress as its chill encased her body, causing her to shiver in her state of near consciousness, a high window letting the sun fall over her. A throbbing pain enveloped her forehead as she began to become aware of the room that surround her. Her blue eyes fluttered open slowly, repulsed by the light coming in an eastern window to shine upon her face. As her sight adjusted and the fog faded away Eva’s heart seemed to rise in her throat and the color from her face drain. In less than a moment’s passing, she recognized the room in which she had awoken and the bed on which she now lay. Furnished with lavish draperies and expensive pieces; adorned with reds and golds and still encased by the air of imprisoned freedom was the room in which she had awoken from unconsciousness not once but twice; the room in which she had been trapped for three months where she had been threatened and abused by her captor before she was able to escape. And now Eva realized there would be not another; she would surely die there!

  Sitting up with a start, her hand flying to her mouth to repress her cries and tears pushing diligently on her, the lady sat frozen, daring not even to breathe until her lungs screamed for air. Drawing in the required breath however shakily, Eva began to move from off the bed, terrified that a single noise would alert the man whom she had feared since her first encounter with him in the very room three months before. Her legs trembled as she put her weight on them, listening over the loud beating of her heart for any sign of the man called Avery moving down the hall to the door. When no noise was heard, the lady then dashed to the door, knowing that it would surely be locked but hoping beyond all hope that somehow it was left open.

  Taking the handle in her shaking hands, she attempted to pull the door inward but as she had feared it was locked from the outside with no hope of her undoing it lest she possess a key. Feeling her innermost being begin to sink Eva closed her eyes tightly against the tears, silently begging God to deliver her from this place that she knew on her own she could not again escape. It was the sound of footsteps in the hall growing louder as they neared that caused Eva’s heart to speed and her trembling body to shake more violently. Turning she ran from the door, wishing with all her might that some force might cause her body to sink into the wall and conceal her from who she was sure must be the man who had taken her first from her home and then again from Wynthall Manor.

  The clang of metal on metal broke the silence in the room as the lock was slid open and then the door parted with its frame as the tall figure of a man pushed it open and stepped into the room, beholding Eva’s cowering frame with a satisfied smirk. “Well now, Eva, you needn’t look so surprised. Surely you knew that I could not allow you to take your father’s wealth and title out from beneath me?”

  “I did know it was you, Uncle Alex.” Eva’s bitter voice shook as she spoke. “I thought only of you from the moment I was first taken away from Covingdell.”

  “I am most flattered, my dear niece,” her uncle continued in his condensation. “I should like to introduce you to someone though I am certain you’ve met before.” As Lord Alex spoke a much younger man appeared in the open doorway behind him, one whose sight caused Eva’s breath to catch in her throat. “Eva,” her uncle made the introduction as though his niece had not spent nearly three months in his terrorizing company, “this is Avery Vastel. He is my son.”

  Eva could repress not the gasp that rippled through her as Lord Alex made the announcement with his head held high in pride for his offspring whose resemblance to her uncle Eva was now able to discern. The young man, whose dark brown hair and broad frame matched perfectly with his father’s, stood by with a playful smirk written across his face as he gazed at Eva in villainous satisfaction.

  “Does it all make sense to you now, my lady?” the young man asked as he moved into the room to stand next to his father. “You shall be my wife and I shall rule your father’s dukedom and be presented before the king.”

  “You see, Eva, I am not so selfish as my brother would have me,” Lord Alex prided himself on the accomplishment of his scheme. “All my life I’ve wanted nothing save my only son grow to be more than I ever was. I thought once the only way to accomplish this was to inherit your father’s title so that I might pass it on to Avery, but as you can see, I’ve discovered a much more sensible arrangement.”

  As the truth of the situation settled into Eva’s heart along with the confusion she felt upon being faced with a cousin she never knew existed, her heart and all hopes of escaping began to sink away until she remembered Lord de Grey and all he had done. “You forget, Uncle, I already have a husband,” she confronted him boldly though her nerves and every sense of guilt she felt for lying protested. “You may kill me now. For that is the only way you will have the title.”

  Alexander Vastel only huffed. “You cannot fool me with such falsehoods, Eva. I know the truth of it, I know that James lied to protect you both from my threats.”

  Again, Eva’s face began to pale. “W-what do you mean? How can you know?”

  Alexander raised his eyebrow. “I learned it from a very reliable source, my dear niece. Someone whom your beloved Lord de Grey told himself.”

  A look of confusion came over the lady’s face as she could not imagine who would break the confidence of the baron, knowing that his own staff were the only ones who could have known the truth.

  “Ah, you seem quite perplexed,” her uncle went on. “But I daresay it is not for you to know. All you need know now is that you are to be my son’s wife and I am certain that his strict hand will prevent you from relating to anyone how your union came about.”

  “I will not marry him!” Eva defied vehemently. “And neither you nor he shall force me. I should rather die!”

  At this Alexander’s alleged son stepped forward, moving across the floor to close the space between he and Eva who coward further into the corner. Raising his hand, he ran it slowly along the fading bruises, leaving the trail of raised senses along her cheek, which forced Eva to repress her desire to slap his hand away. A smile of satisfaction rose to his face. “I am most certain that you will change your mind soon enough.” His voice was filled with threat. “You escaped here
once too often and after I’d explicitly warned you against it. Such things weigh on my short temper, dear Eva.”

  The lady said nothing in reply, only moved her face from the reach of his hand, averting her eyes to the wall beside her. Avery chuckled, knowing he had her too frightened not to comply with his demands.

  “You will do exactly as you are told, Eva,” her uncle instructed as his son returned to his side. “And if you disobey us in any way, I assure you, you will regret it. We’ve come too far to fail because of your interference.”

  “He will come for me, you know,” Eva’s voice was timid and quiet, stopping Alexander and his son as they turned to exit the room. “Lord de Grey will not allow you to get away with this scheme, Uncle.”

  “And yet there will be nothing he can do to achieve his gallant rescue of yourself and the peerage. If James Nightten becomes a threat to me, then I shall take great pleasure in running him through.”

  With that being his last word, Alexander Vastel closed the door and Eva heard the lock slide into place before the footfalls of the two men faded away, leaving Eva alone, imprisoned in the room with no hope but to pray.

  *****

  Evan as Eva cried her pleas to God, Grey fought the same urge as he rode in the lead of a small legion of men—twenty-five that he had requested and been given most willingly by the duke. His Grace had insisted at first to accompany Grey but was soon led to realize he would only slow them down and was sure not to survive the journey or the fight which would most certainly ensue.

  “Lord de Grey, we must slow down, we’ve an hour yet to travel before we arrive,” the magistrate, also acquired by the duke, begged Grey to slow their pace which could not be kept.