Wynthall Manor- The Wynthall Manor Trilogy

by Brianne E Pryor

  “I thank you for your help, Mr. Newton.”

  “It was my pleasure. Lady Eva, I hope you are not harmed?”

  Eva shook her head, daring not to say a word for she knew it would come in broken speech. The magistrate nodded, his eyes filled with sympathy for the lady, and then he turned again to Grey. “What of this man called Owen, which Lord Alex spoke of? Was he involved in this wretched scheme?”

  Grey shook his head gravely. “No. He was killed long ago.” Turning to Lady Eva, Grey lifted his arm to her, which she accepted most willingly, her hand trembling against his elbow, and together they made way down the halls of Lambly, leaving behind a lifetime of unhealed wounds.

  ~ 31 ~

  “You are certain you were not harmed, my lady?” Grey asked for a second time as the carriage acquired from Lambly stables moved with great haste toward Covingdell, one of the duke’s men at the driver’s seat.

  Eva shook her head, pushing her loose hair from where it fell into her still rather pale complexion. “I assure you I am well, my lord.” Her voice, still dimmed with the former fear answered with quietness barely heard above the clamor of the journeying carriage, her arms pulling closer a blanket, which had been wrapped round her shoulders to cover her nightclothes and warm her trembling body. Looking up from her lap the lady’s eyes met with Grey’s, their gentle, somewhat dim blue haze sinking into his harsh brown so that they softened at the sight. “I do not know how I might thank you, Lord de Grey. You saved my life on the road and then a thousand times after in allowing my stay at Wynthall and then defeating my uncle; risking your own name all in a venture to help me. It is to you that I owe my life and the name of Vastel and the Dukedom of Dawcaster. I shall never be able to repay what you have done.”

  Grey shook his head, taking hold of the window frame as the carriage jolted. “Already I have told you, my lady. You owe me nothing. If there is a debt to be paid, it is mine.”

  A look of question came over Eva’s face, not understanding what debt it was that Grey might owe. But he made no move to explain himself, only leaned back in his seat opposite Eva, his mind dwelling on one thought quite different. “Before we reach your home, my lady, there is something you should know, something which I only learned myself this morning when my search for you led me to Covingdell.”

  Eva’s expression grew curious, her head tilted as she urged him silently to go on.

  “It is in regards to your father, my lady. We were deceived by Lord Alex in hopes that I would aid in the search to discover you.”

  What small tints of color upon Eva’s cold cheeks were suddenly drained away as Grey continued. “Your uncle sent that messenger under false pretenses. Your father is not dead.”

  A gasp escaped Eva’s lips; her hand flew to muffle a cry that soon followed. Her eyes cast over with another bout of tears as she was struck with the welcome reality. “He—he is not dead? You are in earnest, Lord de Grey?”

  The baron nodded. “Certainly I would not say as much lest it be true. I have seen and spoken with him myself only this morning.”

  “He—he is alive,” she cried as though she’d taken a blow, however wonderful its feeling. “And I shall see him!”

  “Yes.” Grey moved his head to look out the window in the direction toward which they traveled. “In only a few moments, it seems. There is Covingdell.”

  With a rush of color returning to her cheeks Eva, too, moved so that she might crane her neck out the window and behold the home in which she had longed to return to, knowing that her father awaited her there. “Covingdell,” she breathed a breath of relief, her entire being taking over calmness though her eyes glowed with excitement to see her father once more.

  “It would seem you were right, my lady.” Grey’s words drew Eva’s attention so that she turned back to him. “God did answer your prayer.”

  This brought a smile to Eva’s face, lighting her features so that Grey too could not help but smile in return. “Indeed He did, Lord de Grey. Indeed He did.”

  *****

  After what seemed an eternity to the anxious Lady Eva the carriage pulled through the western gate of Covingdell and beneath the brick arch to enter the small courtyard at the very back of the castle. As it came to a halt, Grey opened the door and alighted, extending his hand to Eva, feeling her chilled fingers take hold of his as he helped her descend the small steps to the ground. As the confinement of the small space left her and she was finally stood in her home of which she had not been certain to see again, Eva felt a wave of happiness overwhelm her and a smile come over her face.

  “Lady Eva!” a feminine cry from across the courtyard drew Eva’s immediate attention, and in a moment, she was in the arms of her lady’s maid, both of them crying together as the kindly lady held her mistress tightly.

  “Oh, Anna, it is good to be home again!” Eva cried as they pulled away from the embrace, both wiping tears of joy.

  “It is good to have you home again, milady. We were all afraid that…” The woman’s words seemed to fall away as such a thought struck her for the thousandth time since her mistress had disappeared. “Oh, madam, it was all my fault,” she cried. “I shoulda been lookin’ out for ya and I wasn’t.”

  “My dear Anna, it was most certainly not your fault,” Eva insisted as she held the woman’s shoulders. “There was nothing that you could have done to prevent it. And now we needn’t think of it anymore.”

  The elderly lady nodded as she wiped at another tear, “Yes, milady. No more.”

  “Now tell me quickly, Anna, where is my father?”

  “His Grace ’as been watching for ya from his room. He’s on his way down now.”

  “Come, Lord de Grey!” Eva urged her companion, her face again lit with anticipation so that Grey could not help but feel his heart rise at the sight of her happiness. Together they reached one of the side doors and Eva had only just pulled it open when she heard her name uttered by the voice which she had once been certain was never to be heard again. “Eva!”

  “Father!” A moment later Eva was in her father’s arms, embracing him tightly as the blanket fell away from her shoulders and his cane toppled to the ground, his renewed spirits providing a new strength within him to hold his daughter close. “Oh, Eva! My girl, you are alive!” For a long moment they stood still, each holding the other, Eva weeping into her father’s shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent as his few tears fell on her neck. Soon the duke raised his head, his eyes caching Grey who stood but a few feet away. “Thank you,” her father mouthed his thanks to the baron as he held his daughter close.

  Grey nodded solemnly, saying nothing to intrude on their moment. Eva looked up from her father’s embrace to behold his pale complexion and weary eyes now filled with life as he looked again upon the daughter he thought lost to him. “I thought I would never see you again, Father. He told us you had died.” Tears, more prevalent than ever before, rolled down her already stained cheeks to soak into the duke’s shirt.

  Eva’s father pulled her closer, pressing her face into his shoulder. “And you think I would leave without seeing my dearest girl again? Did I not tell you that wherever you are I shall be with you?”

  Eva nodded, the smile unable to be stricken from her face. “Yes, Father.”

  “Then we shall think of it no more and only cherish the hours and days which are to come.”

  Again Eva nodded as her father raised his head to find his daughter’s maid. “Anna, take her ladyship upstairs where she might be taken care of. I’ve a few words to say to Lord de Grey.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.” The elderly lady moved to retrieve the blanket and return it to Eva’s shoulders, handing, too, his cane to the master before wrapping her arm around the lady’s shoulders and escorting her down the hall. Grey watched after them, catching Eva’s eye as she turned, sharing with him a silent look, which lasted but a moment before she and her companion disappeared down the hall. “Come, Lord de Grey, I fear my legs may give out beneath me.” The duke t
urned and made a slow lead down one of the wide corridors, destined for one of the many parlors not far from the entrance. The fireplace was dark, leaving the room a bit cool. The duke sat himself immediately upon one of the three embroidered armchairs, leaning back with a heavy sigh as his aching bones settled and his heart strained. “Tell me of my brother, Lord de Grey,” the duke commanded, “and of all those who conspired to steal my daughter away from me.”

  “Lord Alex is dead, Your Grace.”

  “You killed him?”

  Grey nodded, harboring no remorse or hesitation to admit what he had done. “I did, Your Grace.”

  The duke, too, nodded. “I daresay his death was justified many years ago by Alexander himself. I can not pretend I am sad to be rid of him, only grieved that he made such an end a necessity.” Raising his now tired eyes to meet Grey’s, the duke continued. “I can never repay you for what you have done, de Grey. Were it not for you, I would have never seen my daughter again.”

  “I did what any man would have done, Your Grace. As I have told her ladyship, you owe me nothing. Your daughter has done me a great service in helping me to discover the identity of a man who ended the life of one who meant a great deal to me many years ago. For that I owe her ladyship a lifetime of gratitude.”

  The duke raised his brow. “You mean to speak of Alexander, I suppose?”

  Grey shook his head. “No, Your Grace, it was Lord Alex who told me of my own brother’s guilt just before he died.”

  “Your brother? The one who was killed at Wynthall some years ago?”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “I am sorry, de Grey. But glad you learned a truth for which you had long searched. You say Alexander is dead, whatever became of my nephew and Lord Bondeville?”

  “They were both arrested without any mishap. Lord Bondeville disclosed to us a great deal in relation to Lord Alex’s scheme to have his son marry Lady Eva. Including the involvement of Lord Alex’s valet and one of your footman as well.” Grey related every detail to the duke in the same words as Lord Bondeville had told of it. Though it grieved John Vastel to hear of his brother’s betrayal and intent to inflict harm upon the duke’s daughter, it surprised him not for he knew of Alexander’s ways. “I fear I am as much to blame for this ordeal as Alexander was,” the duke’s voice was strained with fatigue as he spoke. “I knew of his wrongful doings and the ways in which he cast the name of Vastel into scandal, and yet I could not cast him off no matter how I scorned him. And now because of my foolishness he has harmed the thing that I cherish the most.” The duke shook his head, ashamed at his own actions. “There are not words to describe the great evil that I have allowed to dwell among my family and staff. But I daresay I shall not have to bear it for long. My heart has withstood more than I thought possible in the past three months, now I am certain it is burned out. It is thanks to you, de Grey, that I may go knowing my daughter will not be left to deal with the scruples of her uncle. I only wish that she were not to be left totally alone with the weight of a peer so heavily on her shoulders.”

  There was a pause of silence in the parlor as the duke’s words caused Grey’s mind to run with thoughts of which his heart pressed. Now is your chance, James! His heart cried out to him. Now you may have a happiness which you once thought lost forever.

  But what of Dahlia? his conscience argued with ferocity. Do you dare to forget her? Do you dare to love another?

  “Your Grace?” Grey heard his voice speak to the duke though he commissioned it not. “There is—there is something of the utmost importance that I would like to inquire of you, sir.”

  ~ 32 ~

  Grey said his farewells to the duke, again assuring the man he was in no debt for any services that Grey had rendered over the past week and promising to call again soon. Still clad in his now soiled white shirt, his ruffled cuffs muddied from the early morning ride and his empty sheath hanging loose against his hip, Grey crossed the castle’s great hall toward the front entrance, where John Vastel had called one of his own horses to carry the baron home. Grey had not yet strode the length of the hall when he heard his name spoken from above him, the same voice which had often uttered the baron’s call, whose sound caused his heart to leap now that he restrained it not. “Lord de Grey?”

  Turning to raise his eyes to the top of the long staircase, he saw she who had called his name in her ever gentle speech, she who had been the forefront of his thoughts for the week’s passing, and she who had unwittingly been able to overcome his heart so that his grief for another might be subdued. She was dressed no longer in the clothes that she had been taken in during the night but wearing a long, pale gown, its pattern striped with light pink and brown, its sleeves and neckline trimmed in similarly colored lace. Her long blond hair was rolled to the back of her head, small ringlets framing her face that looked now bright with contended happiness. “You are not leaving, my lord?” Eva began to descend the stairs, her dress sweeping the steps as the long space between the two grew smaller.

  “I’m afraid I must. My staff will surely worry for me.”

  Eva nodded, reaching Grey’s side so that he might behold the sea in her eyes that had taken him so that night in the forest. “In that case, my lord, I must make my thanks here. You can have no idea what you’ve done for me and indeed for all the people of Covingdell.”

  “My lady, I have told you, I want no thanks. It was you who led me to the man with such knowledge of Dahlia’s death as I have long searched. For that I owe you far more than you me.”

  Eva’s expression fell sad. “Is that what my uncle told you before he died? Of the man who had killed her?”

  Grey nodded. “I knew that Alexander must have known and there were times when I even suspected him of the crime.”

  “It was not my uncle though, was it?” Eva’s expression was alarmed upon such a thought after Lord Alex had already inflicted such hurt on the baron but Grey shook his head, easing her fright. “No, it was not Alexander. Your uncle spoke of my younger brother Owen, whom my father favored above both me and his first son, who was killed during the war when only in his youth. My father willed that Owen inherit the title and barony but had no power to change the law as it had been willed to the eldest with no possibility of revocation. When it was realized that I must become his heir, he told me I could see Dahlia no more for she was the daughter of a fisherman and not worthy to become a baroness.” Grey chuckled dryly at the thought of his beloved Dahlia falling short of worthiness in the eyes of any human which breathed. “When still his threats stopped me not he thought he could scare Dahlia away from me, or so your uncle said as he died. He spoke of Owen meeting her on the road under the orders of my father. From the state she was in when I discovered her he must have used violence as a way to frighten her, only it was taken too far.”

  Grey shook his head as his mind began to play what must have been the scene that night in the darkness of the rocky knoll, never before being able to fully know what had occurred there. But soon he pushed it all aside, wishing any grievous thoughts to inhabit his mind no more and now having the control over the workings of his mind to stop them. “Now at least I know the entire truth of it and need search no longer for he who ended her life and indeed my own for twelve years.”

  “I am glad you might be relieved in some way, my lord,” Lady Eva spoke with sadness in her voice, her knowledge of what Grey had suffered causing herself an inward pain. “Though I am sorry it was your brother of whom you had to learn such an evil.”

  Grey only shook his head, having not been shocked by the conduct of his younger brother. “It does not matter. Owen was much like your uncle all his life. My father’s favor did little to better him. He was a scoundrel filled with needs of his own, which he met or had met by our father. I searched for years for the man who had killed Dahlia with the intention of causing his death to be as painful as hers must have been.” Grey huffed dryly, “But the entire time I searched for a dead man.”

  “Your brothe
r is dead?”

  Grey nodded, feeling no need to conceal the circumstances of his brother’s death from Eva, who had already opened her heart to so much of Grey’s troubles. “I killed him.”

  “You killed him?” Eva’s voice was soft, filled with a shocked disturbance as Grey admitted his greatest secret.

  “He came to my room one night just after our father’s death. I was asleep until my breathing was cut off, and I felt a weight on top of me. I was being smothered by a pillow. Only that evening had I been with my fencing instructor, yet another attempt to forget my grief over Dahlia. I had discarded my sword and its sheath at my bedside, and as my breath was leaving me, I somehow possessed the presence of mind to reach for it. The next moment, I felt my groping hand take hold of the hilt and then the being was falling away from me and I could breathe again.” Grey’s eyes fell dark as he recalled the incident vividly. “I looked and there on the floor of the solar room lay my brother... dead.”

  Eva shook her head sorrowfully. “I cannot imagine such a dreadful thing.”

  “It has been justified, my lady.”

  Eva nodded. “Indeed it has. As was my uncle’s death. No matter what you may say, Lord de Grey, we are much in your debt.”

  “Not nearly as much so as I am in yours, my lady.”

  “I hardly did anything to lead you to such knowledge as you searched. I wanted only to be returned here without fear of my uncle and that you have done tenfold.”

  A small silence fell between the two as Grey’s heart suddenly pressed upon him, providing a pressure that even his good sense could not withstand. “That is not the only reason for which I am indebted to you, Lady Eva.” Again his mouth spoke without sanction though with little speed so that he might say with the correct words that which he desired to speak. “For twelve years I drowned in my grief so that I wished I might live no more,” he began to explain himself, “but when you arrived, you confronted my greatest fear and drove from me a terrible heartache. You spoke a truth to me, which I have refused to hear for twelve years.” Grey shook his head as though he himself could not believe the transformation she had brought about. “And indeed you have led me to the answer for which I sought. To know the identity of the man who took Dahlia from me. I knew it not then, but that night you saved a life which I thought was beyond all help. You thank me now as your father has but how foolish it would have been of me not to return this great service when I was provided the chance.”