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

by Sahara Kelly

  “Giles,” she clung to him. “I don’t think I can do this without you.” Tears clogged her throat as he put his hands over hers. “Gwyneth.” She looked up at the unfamiliar use of her name. “Gwyneth, you are stronger than you know. Put your faith in yourself and your gentlemen. They will serve you well. And they will love you as you love them.”

  “I know, but…but…Giles,” she wailed. “I’m going to miss you so very much.”

  He removed her hands and held them tightly. “And I shall miss you too. All of you. And Wolfbridge.” His voice caught. “Gwyneth. Listen to me. You must be the best Lady of Wolfbridge you can be. Promise me this?”

  “I promise,” she whispered, trying to control her tears. “I promise, Giles.”

  “Then I am satisfied.” He dropped a light kiss on her cheek, and cast a last look around the hall. “Goodbye, my friends. No…my family. Never think I shall forget any of you. Ever.”

  He let Gwyneth go and walked away, down the steps of Wolfbridge and into the carriage, settling himself next to the woman who would be his life from now on. His own personal Lady.

  Ringed by Jeremy, Evan, Gabriel and Royce, Gwyneth stood, trying to hold herself upright, tears now streaming down her face and waving as the carriage pulled away.

  She sobbed aloud, and the bodies behind her closed the gap. Four sets of arms came out to touch her, four chests nestled against her.

  “We’re here, love,” whispered Gabriel. “We’re still here.”

  The carriage disappeared into the distance.

  “I know,” she answered. “But…it’s hard.”

  “It is,” said Evan, his voice uneven. “Bloody hard.”

  “Quick and clean,” said Royce. “He has style, that man.”

  Jeremy sighed. “I didn’t think I’d say this after last night, but where’s the damn brandy?”

  Epilogue

  Three weeks later…

  “I have letters,” said Royce, hurrying into the room where the others were gathered for lunch. “The Royal Mail dropped them off yesterday and the lad from the Inn came up with them this morning.”

  Evan passed around a plate of sliced chicken. “From whom, Royce?”

  “Well, there’s one for Gwyneth from Giles. And one for Gwyneth from Ionie.”

  “Oh, how lovely.” She accepted the missives with a smile. “I asked her to write. I’m so glad she did.”

  “If she promised, you can bet she’ll keep her word. She’s Giles’s wife, after all.” Jeremy grinned.

  “Good point.” Royce agreed. “I also have a letter here that looks most important. Legal matters I should think.”

  “Oh, Royce. Do you think it might be about the Kilham estate?”

  “Possibly. It is about that time.”

  Gwyneth took a breath. The news that the Earl of Kilham had managed to fashion a noose and hang himself in a Deepmere gaol cell had been received with mixed emotions. The Constables who were holding him were quite upset, of course, but after the initial shock everyone involved felt more than a little relieved. It was somewhat ironic, pointed out Jeremy, that the Earl had been in the very cell where Trick had spent a miserable six months.

  They also regretted, but failed to mention to the authorities, that they strongly suspected the Earl had been responsible for Randschen’s death.

  Royce had put forward the suggestion, pointing out that if Kilham had been skulking around Wolfbridge, he might have been seen by the Baron coming to collect his weapon. Such an occurrence would easily have led to violence, since the Earl couldn’t afford to have his presence revealed.

  They all regretted the manner of his death. They did not, however, mourn his absence.

  Consequently, many more legal enquiries had been initiated. Royce had fielded correspondence from an assortment of lawyers and creditors with reference to the estate, but they still lacked the news they sought. She was hoping this letter might answer some of the most pressing questions.

  “Would you mind opening it now? I think we’re all eager to hear what the lawyers have to say.” Gwyneth was on tenterhooks. She wanted that part of her life done with. Then, and only then, she felt she had a chance to fully explore who she was now, without any lingering shadows.

  “Very well.” Royce took a bite of fresh bread and broke the seal on the official-looking letter, opening it and scanning it quickly. Then he put down the bread and scanned it once again.

  “Uhh…Gwyneth?” His eyes remained glued to the words on the page, and he turned to the second sheet, perusing that as well.

  “What? Royce? What is it?”

  Everyone’s eyes were riveted on Royce. Who finally put the letter down and looked at Gwyneth. Then cleared his throat. “It seems that there was no second will, but your husband had added a codicil. You were supposed to be in control of Kilham Abbey and the estate should he predecease you. The income was to go to Ernest, but only the income. Now that he has died, the entire Kilham Abbey estate goes to the last remaining member of the family cited in the will. That’s you.” He looked up at her. “Kilham is yours.”

  She blinked. Stared at Royce, and blinked again, struggling against an odd roaring in her ears.

  “Gwyneth?” Royce looked back at her. “Did you hear what I said? You’re the last in the Kilham family and you’re now a very rich widow because of it.”

  “Dear God above,” she breathed. “The last thing I want is anything to do with that miserable estate and the people who live there.” Her heart thundered. “He married me to get an heir. He never loved me, although he didn’t mistreat me. But his servants didn’t like me and his son…that bastard damn near killed me. He wanted me to die. In fact, he said so.” She clutched the table cloth. “I don’t want it, Royce. I don’t want Kilham. And I won’t leave Wolfbridge for it, that’s for damn sure.” Her breath choked.

  Tears stung her eyes, but she held them in check. She was Wolfbridge now. Kilham could rot for all she cared.

  “All right, Gwyneth. Breathe.” Royce kept his voice calm. “You do not have to do anything at this moment. Give yourself time to think. Should you decide not to take up residence at Kilham, you can sell it. Since you’re the last in line, there is no entail to follow. It can go on the market whenever you wish.”

  She took another deep breath, trying to calm herself. “Yes. I think that would be the best course of action.” She stared down at her intertwined fingers. “I have to wonder if he was behind the blackmail letter. Perhaps he had finally learned of the codicil.” She looked up at Royce. “He would have been one of the few in a position to learn about such matters.”

  Royce nodded. “A logical supposition, yes. Your maid came with you when you married Kilham, I would guess?”

  “Indeed.” Gwyneth sighed. “How strange life is sometimes.” A thought struck her. “I would have the capital, right? If I sold Kilham Abbey, the whole thing, the proceeds would be mine?”

  Royce paused. “The legal details would need to be finalized, but yes, I can’t see why not. Pending the settlement of bills and the matters of tenancy…” He ran his hand through his hair, frowning over the details. “Once that’s completed, the balance would be yours.”

  “Then I can invest some of it here at Wolfbridge. Expand our holdings perhaps, or build a few new farms. Get some additional farmers on the land. Fields. We could always use new fields, couldn’t we?” She leaned forward, smiling now as future opportunities replaced past shadows.

  “I’d like a new stove,” offered Evan with a little grin.

  “The Rose room could use a coat of paint and new drapes,” Jeremy chimed in.

  “And you, Gwyneth. What do you want?” Gabriel, sitting next to her, covered her hand at the table and squeezed it.

  “I want to stay here and be happy with you all,” she said, the words springing unbidden but coming directly from everything that she was.

  “I think that can be arranged.” Gabriel gave her the smile that always brought an answering one to her lips. �
�Yes, I think we can all manage that quite nicely.”

  Her heart settled, her tensions drained away and she chuckled. “Oh, and I’d also like a puppy…”

  *~~*~~*

  A few weeks after Giles’s departure, Jeremy walked into the Rose room to find her. “Gwyneth, can you come and see if these flowers work? Gabriel’s out there digging all over the place. He’s worse than Darcy.”

  A little yip from around her feet told Gwyneth that her new pup had heard his name mentioned. A tiny black and white ball of fluff emerged from behind her and stared at Jeremy, big eyes wide.

  “Of course. Come along, sprout, let’s go and see what Uncle Gabriel’s doing.” She bent and picked up the dog, rubbing his head and tucking him under her arm, where he watched the world go by quite contentedly.

  It was hot, a very hot July morning, and would be worse by the time the sun set. However, it stayed cooler inside the stone walls of Wolfbridge, so a brief trip outside wasn’t unpleasant.

  “Over here,” called Gabriel. He was working in the front of the Manor, alongside the steps leading from the drive to the door. “I think these peonies will do well here. What do you think?”

  “They like sun, don’t they?” She stared at the green plants, knowing they had probably already bloomed.

  “Yes, and they’ll see plenty of it in this spot,” said Gabriel, waving a trowel around. “These are pink and white. We’ll keep an eye on them, cut them back in the winter, and with a bit of luck we’ll have some lovely colours come next spring and early summer.”

  “Then I’m all for it.” Gwyneth nodded her approval.

  A sound made them all turn, and Gabriel stood, joining them as they watched a carriage appear in the distance.

  “Are we expecting anyone?” Gabriel glanced at Jeremy.

  “Not that I know of. And it can’t be from Fivetrees because that’s the wrong direction.”

  Puzzled, they stayed where they were as it drew nearer. Covered in dust, it looked as if it had travelled quite a way. Finally it drew up right in front of them and Darcy surprised them all by giving what had to be his first bark. It came out as more of a yip, but Gwyneth was very proud of him all the same.

  “This ‘ere Wolfbridge, right?” The driver wiped his face with a cloth.

  “It is, yes.” Gabriel called back.

  “Good. Got a delivery fer a Mister Jeremy.”

  “What? Me?” Jeremy started in surprise. “I’m Jeremy.”

  “Then this is fer yer.” The driver leapt down, opened the door of the carriage and struggled to drag out what looked like a badly wrapped rug. He tossed it onto the grass, then jumped back into his seat and whipped up the tired horses.

  “Wait…” yelled Gwyneth. “Stop, wait…”

  The driver ignored her, and in moments he’d disappeared down the lane that led out onto the road back to Ditchley, a cloud of dust marking where he’d whipped up the horses.

  “What the hell is that, Jeremy?” Royce had come outside at the sound of the carriage. “I heard the wheels on the driveway…”

  They all tentatively approached the bundle lying on the grass, and Jeremy moved forward, pulling away what looked like a thick sheet or blanket of some kind.

  Gwyneth had to bite back a scream of horror as a body rolled out. A woman’s body.

  Jeremy fell to his knees, his face white. “Oh my God…it’s…Susannah Brockford.” He leaned over her, reaching for her neck to find a pulse.. “And she’s still alive…”

  To Be Continued…

  Look for The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor - Book Three

  Autumn 2019

  In case you haven’t read the first book (which really does help with some of the settings, characters and ideas set forth in Gwyneth’s story), here’s an excerpt to whet your literary appetite…

  Lady Adalyn

  The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor – Book One

  Excerpt

  She entered the Rose room, a charming space for relaxing while also serving as a study, with shades of pinks and reds throughout, Adalyn spared a moment to wonder about the house itself as she seated herself and waited for the estate manager.

  If she had been asked to dream up her ideal home, something very close to Wolfbridge Manor would have appeared behind her eyelids.

  How was it so perfect for her? How did it possess so many wonderfully kind men who seemed to have her satisfaction and comfort uppermost in their minds? She had yet to hear a cross word, or an oath spoken in anger. Everyone interacted with everyone else on a level of civility she’d not believed possible.

  There had not been hide nor hair of a maid or tweeny, or housekeeper—and yet her surroundings were spotlessly clean and the service impeccable.

  She rose and crossed to the window, looking out over a winter lawn, edged with evergreen shrubs of some kind. Their branches drooped with damp, since the rain had started once more, but even so, the prospect was charming. At the far end of the lawn there was a small hedge, and beyond a thicket of fir trees.

  A harsh call distracted her attention and she raised her eyes, watching a large jackdaw heading for the forest.

  “Noisy birds, aren’t they, my Lady?”

  She jumped, hand to her heart, spinning around and nearly toppling as her heel caught on the edge of the carpet.

  He was there in a trice, strong arms supporting her, bringing the fresh fragrance of sandalwood and leather, and whiskey-brown eyes that crinkled into a smile. “It’s all right. I’ve got you.”

  He did indeed. And for a split second, Adalyn toyed with the notion of suggesting he might hold on to her for a little while longer.

  “I am sorry. I am so clumsy…” She stuttered an apology, lost in the warmth of his gaze and his embrace.

  He righted her. “Entirely my fault, I’m afraid, my Lady. I startled you.”

  “My wits were wandering,” she smiled. “And that’s why I stumbled.” She moved to the elegant desk, gesturing to the chairs in front of it. “You must be Mr. Daniel, my estate manager? Please sit. I am eager to speak with you.”

  “It’s Daniel, my Lady. Just Daniel. And yes, I do my best to manage Wolfbridge Manor and its assets.”

  “I have questions, of course.” She sighed. “It seemed like a dream when Giles came up to me at my late husband’s funeral. In fact, it still does.”

  “I can’t even begin to imagine, Lady Adalyn.” He crossed his legs, resting a shiny boot on one knee of his breeches. “Perhaps it would be best for me to answer any questions you may have.”

  “As in why I am here?”

  “Precisely,” he nodded. “Although that story begins a hundred or so years ago.”

  Adalyn smiled. “Giles told me much of it in the carriage. About the first Lady Wolfbridge.”

  “Indeed. Well, not to repeat the tale, but to add to it—you now have control over the house and lands. If it matters at all, our records indicate you are the twelfth such lady to call Wolfbridge Manor home since the inception of its unusual situation.”

  Adalyn digested his words, then shook her head. “I cannot fathom such kindness,” she said. “I can only thank the original Lady Wolfbridge, wherever she may be, and pray that she knows because of her, I am not out on the streets of London. Something that seemed all too close to being my only option.”

  “There was no mention of anything for you in your late husband’s will?” Daniel tilted his head to one side.

  “No,” she replied. “It wasn’t even a se’nnight after our marriage when his heart failed him. I’m sure he hadn’t yet thought of changing any of the details of his will.”

  Silence fell for a few moments, and she looked down at her folded hands. How calmly she could say that now. And yet it was so soon after his passing.

  “If I may be forgiven a personal question, Ma’am,” Daniel spoke gently. “Was his Lordship a kind husband?”

  Adalyn swallowed. How should that best be answered? It was not in her nature to lie, but she’d also learned at an early ag
e to keep her own counsel. She raised her head and met his warm gaze.

  “Since he is the only husband I’ve had, I cannot really compare him to others,” she said, a slight smile curving her lips. “But to be honest, Daniel, I do not believe his behaviour would qualify him for that description.” She sighed. “And I have the bruises to prove it.”

  The words were out before she realised it, and Daniel knelt beside her chair the next instant, leaping from his seat in a move so fast she barely registered it.

  Reaching for her hands, he clasped them in his. “He hit you?”

  The emotions in his eyes caught her attention. As if anger and pain were warring each other behind those amber whiskey colours.

  “I should not have mentioned it,” she whispered. “Please. That must remain a private matter between me and my late husband.”

  His grip tightened as he separated her hands, raising the back of one to his lips. “You can rely upon my discretion, dear lady.” He pressed a kiss to her skin, then turned her hand over and pressed another to her wrist.

  A tiny shiver danced over her flesh, tripping down her spine and warming places low in her body. She fought the urge to reach out with her free hand and run it through the thick black hair that showed an inclination to curl around his neck and face. It was cut short, probably to curtail that tendency to cherubic locks.

  To her surprise, he rubbed his cheek against her hand, then rose. “I cannot countenance violence against women, my Lady. There are reasons why, and they will never lessen. I ask your forgiveness if I was too forward, but my emotions were aroused.”

  “Not at all, Daniel.” She closed her eyes for a moment or two, gathering her muddled thoughts. “Your attentions were most comforting. And in truth, I have not been used to receiving such courtesies, either during my brief tenure as Lady Wilkerson, or before, as plain Adalyn Chichester.”

  He smiled then, and it was as if the sun had come out right there in the study.