The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2)

by Sahara Kelly

  To her surprise, she felt a laugh deep inside, though still too weak to voice it.

  His hands were firm but kind, there was no pinching or rough treatment; he handled her skin with what she considered respect and caution.

  There was also no pain.

  “Well, that is excellent. A clean wound, no signs of infection and it would seem that the healing may have started, since there is no bleeding at all.” He reached to the side. “I will put the bandage back on, and I have some ointment here that I’m told is exceptional for this sort of thing.”

  She drifted a little as he spoke. It was all so…so ordinary.

  “I got this from a lady named Mrs Barnsley. She came by this morning, since she’d heard of your arrival. Not much gets past her, that’s for sure. But it was nice of her to bring this little pot with her. Just the ticket for that foot of yours.”

  He talked to her in a voice that soothed, eased and comforted her. No silly endearments or patronising tones, simply matter-of-fact statements and natural conversation.

  “Where am I?” The words were croaky whispers.

  He glanced up quickly as he tied off the bandage. “Well done, my Lady. A question. And I’ll wager that’s the first you’ve asked in quite a long time.” He covered her feet again and tucked the linens around her, making sure she was warm. “You’re at Wolfbridge Manor. And that probably means nothing to you at all. But for now, please know that we are all working to get you back to health. There’s naught else you need concern yourself with at the present.”

  He walked to her side. “More water?”

  She nodded. “Please.” The words were there, and with her throat and mouth now softened by the water, it was easier to speak.

  She drank, this time aware of the honey that helped so much. “Thank you,” she managed to whisper as he removed the cup.

  He placed his hand on her forehead, and she closed her eyes, comforted by the touch of another’s warm palm.

  “Good. I think your fever is abating, so I’ll let you sleep a bit now. Perhaps more willow bark tonight, but at the moment you’ll doing just fine.” He gave her a few more sips of water.

  “Please…” She turned to him as he removed the cup. “R-R-Royce?”

  “Yes,” he looked at her calmly.

  “Am I dead?”

  He shook his head, his eyes oddly sympathetic, blue pools that sparkled a little with what she thought might be unshed tears. “No, Lady Gwyneth. It was close, but no. You are not in the least bit dead. What happened to you was the most inexcusable crime, but you have a fighting spirit, one would guess. You have survived. You are alive. And in time, you will be well.”

  She sighed then, feeling so much of her fears leave her body with her breath. “Thank you.”

  “Sleep now,” he commanded.

  She obeyed.

  Chapter Ten

  “Damn it to hell and back.” Royce cursed as he flipped papers on his desk. “I know I saw that bill…where the fuck did I put it?”

  Jeremy remained unmoved. “Problems?”

  Royce shot him a look that should have fried him on the spot. “Yes, problems. I’m dealing with someone else’s organisation. Everyone does things differently and I can’t find what I’m looking for. The bill for the hay. January’s bill I think.”

  Jeremy glanced over the papers, leaned in and pulled one free. “Would this be it?”

  Royce sighed.

  “Good.” Jeremy nodded. “Now I’m not here to help you find things, and neither is Giles. We want to know what you might need, other than assistance with the paperwork, which I’m not offering, and I doubt he is, either.” Jeremy nodded at Giles, who had taken a comfortable chair by the window and was watching the proceedings with a measure of amusement.

  “Well then, why are you both here? I’m sure it’s entertaining to watch me fumble around like an untrained swaddie…” He swore again and barely caught the inkwell before it fell off the desk.

  Giles held up his hand. “Enough now. Stop what you’re doing Royce. Jeremy, pick up those papers.” It was time to settle these two down. “Evan and Gabriel will be here in a few moments.”

  “Ah. We’re meeting in my office then, are we?”

  “Yes, Royce we are. You have a fire.” Giles stated the obvious.

  “Sorry,” Evan and Gabriel appeared. “We got caught up making sure the fire in Lady Gwyneth’s room had wood in the basket.”

  “She’s resting, by the way,” added Gabriel. “I would guess she’s asleep, but she is awake more often now, so sometimes it’s in between…”

  Royce nodded. “That’s as it should be. Her mind has to be healed as much as her body. Depriving a human of food for that long…it’s a very bad thing indeed. She’s lucky she’s young and must have been fairly healthy before her ordeal began..”

  “I wanted to speak of her, which is why I asked you all here,” began Giles. “I must tell her very soon about Wolfbridge. About her position here, and about you all.”

  He looked around at the four faces, so very different, and yet all possessing strengths that showed in their expressions.

  “It is time, isn’t it?” Jeremy turned to Giles. “Usually the Lady knows within a day or so, but clearly Lady Gwyneth needed a chance to recover first.”

  “It’s only been several days, though, Giles,” Evan looked concerned. “I’m not sure if she’s ready…”

  “How do they usually take it?” Gabriel’s question was innocent enough, but Giles found himself wanting to chuckle.

  He merely shrugged. “It depends on the Lady. Learning that she is now formally the Lady of Wolfbridge, and has you four at her beck and call…well, it’s a bit of a shock at first.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine,” added Royce, in a tone as dry as sand.

  “I believe she is coming to recognise you all? Even if she is not remembering names?”

  “Giles, have you been in to see her?” Evan asked.

  “No, not yet. I’ve waited until she is somewhat more herself.”

  “She’s almost herself.” Gabriel spoke firmly. “I was able to wash her hair for her. Tired her out, but she was very grateful. She is not grateful to whoever cut it off, but I will leave that explanation to you.”

  “In that case, I suppose now would be the time to tell her of her new situation then. You all agree?”

  Four heads nodded.

  “I’d go gently, though,” offered Royce. “She’s still weak. And until we can get some solid food into her, she’ll probably stay that way. Broth and sops are one thing. A good plate of eggs is another.”

  “I understand.” Giles stood. “Thank you. That’s what I needed to know.” He turned to the desk. “Royce, stick with it. We need a hand steadying our finances. Daniel’s been gone two months; any longer and we might fall behind in our obligations.”

  “I won’t let that happen, I swear.” Royce took a breath. “I just need to comprehend the system at work here.”

  “Jeremy, I’m giving you complete control over the house.” Giles touched him on the shoulder. “You may set a new schedule for the maids if you think it’s necessary.”

  “Since they’re only here a few hours a day, it might not be, but I’ll think about it. With our Lady still abed, it might be useful to set their start time back an hour. Let me consider it.”

  “I will.” Giles turned to Evan. “We’ll need some specialised foods, Evan. Royce knows what she should be eating, but it will be up to you to make it palatable for her.”

  “I believe that will be possible.” Evan’s eyes twinkled. “After all, every one of you has been eating foods that are good for you without complaint.”

  “I knew it. Those were sprouts last night, weren’t they?” Jeremy made gagging noises.

  Giles sighed. “Gabriel, walk me upstairs to Lady Gwyneth’s room. I would not wish to frighten her with a new face when she’s just becoming accustomed to the four of you.”

  The two of them left Royce to his
work and walked up the stairs together.

  “Have you had chance to get a sense of Lady Gwyneth’s state of mind?” asked Giles.

  “Confused as hell, I’d guess,” Gabriel shrugged. “She knows she’s at Wolfbridge and that she’s been ill. Whether she remembers anything before you found her, or during her period of starvation? I don’t know. She’s…”

  “She’s what?”

  Gabriel shook his head. “I might say she is careful. Or reticent. I’m not sure which. But I think she might be slightly more aware than she’d like us to know.”

  Giles thought about that. “Not an unwise precaution when you wake up in a strange place with strange people, no matter how well they tend you.”

  “Good point,” acknowledged Gabriel, pausing outside her door. “You would like me to introduce you?”

  “Yes, I think that would be wise.”

  “Very well, then. Let’s see how the lady reacts to meeting her saviour.” Gabriel opened the door quietly and walked inside. “My Lady,” he said in a low voice. “Are you feeling up to some company?”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Then Giles heard her voice, as if for the first time.

  “That would depend on who it is.”

  *~~*~~*

  Gwyneth turned her head on the pillow to see Gabriel peering around the bed hangings. He was smiling. He smiled a lot, she had noticed. But not in a way that made her uncomfortable; it was more that his disposition was fundamentally a cheerful one.

  She believed him to be gentle, caring—and also weak. But it was too soon to solidify her impressions, so she held her judgement in reserve for the moment.

  “It is the gentleman who rescued you, my Lady,” said Gabriel in answer to her comment. “His name is Giles, and he’d like to speak with you for a little while.”

  She shifted on the pillow. God knew that she could use some diversion, since she was as useless as a kitten and disliked it with every fibre of her being.

  “Very well.” She tugged the sheets up, noting that her arms still lacked strength for even that minor task. She took a breath and fought for a composure she did not feel.

  He walked to the bed and bowed, an appropriate greeting she appreciated. “My Lady. I am pleased to see you on the road to recovery.” He glanced at a nearby chair. “May I?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course.”

  He was tall, older than she’d imagined, and she didn’t recognise him at all. The touches of silver above his ears lent him an air of elegance, as did the neatly trimmed beard. His eyes were brown, and at this moment they were fixed on her face, revealing nothing.

  Obviously a man who understood caution, as she herself had come to understand it.

  He glanced at Gabriel and made a slight gesture with his head. Gabriel nodded, gave her a little bow, and left.

  Then he turned back to her. “First let me ask how you are feeling?”

  “A very common question, Mr Giles. To respond, as I have already done about a dozen times today, I am weak as a kitten, possessed of the ability to fall asleep at a moment’s notice and most displeased by both.”

  He inclined his head, amused. “I can only imagine your frustration. Thank you for your courtesy, but it’s just plain Giles, if you please. I am happy to say your comments indicate a mind that is now working clearly, even if the rest of you is still catching up.”

  She blinked. “I should hope so.” Her eyes drifted to her hands, as she cleared her throat. “Was I not in my right mind earlier? When you found me?”

  “You were barely alive, Ma’am.” His voice was quiet and emotionless. “There was no chance for conversation, nor did you have the inclination.”

  “I was that bad?” She looked up.

  He shifted on the chair, and she wondered if he was trying to find words or weighing his answer.

  “Tell me the truth, if you please,” she instructed.

  He nodded. “You were days away from death. You had obviously not eaten for far too long, and I believe your water supply had either run out or you were too weak to get to it. The cold was taking its toll and your meagre fire was all but out.” He smiled slightly. “Both the physical and the metaphorical.”

  “I see.” She shuddered inside, holding tightly to the control that had always kept her head above the waters of confusion and emotion. I nearly died…

  “Fortunately, I was able to intervene to prevent any further degradation of your person, my Lady. With the continued application of gentle care, warmth, liquids and light foods…as you can surely tell, you are not yet at full strength, but you are well on the way to attaining that goal.”

  “I see I owe you my life, Giles,” she said calmly. “For which I am, of course, most grateful. However…” she paused, watching his every move, “that begs the question of why.”

  “Why what, Ma’am?”

  “Don’t be obtuse. You know full well the meaning of my question.” She snapped back at him, her fears lurking, nipping at her mind. “Why did you leave this place, Wolfbridge I’m told it’s called, and travel to where I was to—as Gabriel put it—rescue me?” She straightened, pushing herself back slightly into the pillows. “Are you acting as an agent of my stepson? Because if you are, if this is all a ruse to return me to…”

  “Stop.” Giles frowned and the word was a sharply delivered command.

  To her surprise, Gwyneth obeyed. She must be weaker than she realised.

  “I am nobody’s agent. And no, I have not met your stepson. Ever.”

  She got the impression he was trying for a little control as well.

  “Should I have the misfortune to do so, you can rest assured that I will take pleasure in pointing out the error of his ways. Nobody should ever be deliberately placed in such a rundown hovel, such terrible life-threatening squalor. Nobody should be starved, deprived of the basics of humanity, or forced to share what little food there is with the rats that also share the dwelling.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but it seemed that Giles was in full spate.

  “To condemn a woman, anyone, to such conditions is a monstrous act. To place a relative deliberately into such circumstances, is—in my opinion—tantamount to murder.”

  “Ah.”

  She couldn’t think of a response to that. Because she agreed with every single word.

  “So to return to your question of why I travelled to the Kilham Abbey Dower House, it wasn’t necessarily to save your life—although it turned out that way—it was to collect you and bring you here so that you might assume the position that is rightfully yours.”

  “And what position is that?” She eyed him with curiosity and not a little concern. What did he, and the other men, have in mind?

  Giles leaned forward. “You, Lady Gwyneth, are the next Lady of Wolfbridge Manor.”

  “What?”

  “You have familial connections to the Wolfbridge line through a great-aunt. This connection brought you to the attention of Wolfbridge and the estate.” He took a moment, pausing to watch her response.

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “I must tell you many things, Lady Gwyneth. But first, and foremost, please know this. The position of Lady of Wolfbridge is a unique one, provided for by the original Lady, more than a few generations ago. It is granted to those of her line who are in need at the same time that the Manor has no mistress. We have just bid farewell to our last Lady of Wolfbridge. She is now wed and has left us with her husband for a new life.”

  “A fortuitous event.” She could think of no other comment, since her mind was presently reeling like a drunken sailor.

  “Indeed,” nodded Giles. “Her departure meant that I had to look for our next Lady—and that was you. I knew you’d moved to the Dower House. I did not, and believe me when I say how angry I am to have to add this comment, I did not, at any time, know the conditions in which you were living.” For a brief moment a look of fury crossed his face.

  Gwyneth’s fingers clutched
the quilt. She would not want to anger this man.

  “Had I been aware of the terrible plight you were suffering, I would have been there much sooner, but thankfully I arrived in time to prevent the most tragic of happenings.”

  “In other words, you reached me before I died.”

  “Uh, yes.” He seemed surprised at her blunt statement. “That is, in essence, correct.”

  She absorbed that. “All right, then. My thanks, of course, since I’m glad I’m not providing food for any more rats.” She moved her foot. “Might I assume that the bandage on my foot is from a bite? I tried to keep them off me as best I could, but sometimes when I slept…” The words caught in her throat.

  “You are well, Ma’am. Safe now. Your body is healing, and that includes the bite on your foot. You are correct in your assumption, but again, it was caught in time. There is no infection. You’ll be walking on it as soon as your full strength returns.”

  She sighed. “That’s a relief.”

  “Indeed.”

  She gathered her wits as best she could, since this was proving to be an important conversation and she wanted to make sure she understood it. “Very well. You tell me that I am to be Lady of Wolfbridge. And yet I have no notion of what that entails.”

  “As far as the title goes,” he began, crossing his legs comfortably, “…you will hold the reins of the Wolfbridge estate. You are presently in the Manor, a house that was built several hundred years ago. It has been maintained by the income from our estate and continues to pay for itself. There is a tidy acreage, with crops, farms, tenant farmers and some very productive fields of berries, which produce a much-desired selection of jams and jellies once harvested.”

  “Oh.” She widened her eyes. “Wolfbridge sounds like a thriving property.”

  He nodded. “It is. Royce is our new estate manager. He will be overseeing the financial situation, everything from taking care of the day-to-day expenses, to the reinvesting of the Wolfbridge capital.”

  “So the others are part of the…what…staff?” In spite of herself, Gwyneth’s interest had been caught by his words.