The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3)

by Sahara Kelly

  They lit up like bolts of lightning, and the beam above the door cracked with a sound that rattled her teeth.

  It fell, dropping onto Gylbart who couldn’t get out of the way fast enough. His screams filled the air, savage ripping cries as he lay beneath the burning timber. They faded into choking sounds and then silence.

  Harry glanced at Gabriel and Gwyneth. “We have to get across the hall. There’s a room with a window on the other side. Crawl. Keep your faces near to the ground if you can. Come on. We can do this.”

  His rough rallying cry helped Gwyneth steel her nerves, and she looked at Gabriel. “We can do this, love,” she repeated. “Come on. Let’s go.”

  She saw his eyes warm and incredibly, he smiled and nodded. “I’m with you, love. Always.”

  The three of them set off, worming their way across the tile floor that was already littered with burning embers. Her skirt caught in a couple of places, but the wool was thick enough to smoulder rather than burst into flames. And what she could see, she beat out with her hands.

  Harry’s boots were just ahead of her and she followed them as best she could. Gabriel was slightly off to one side of her and a little behind, so he too beat out any flames on her skirts that she missed.

  After what seemed like an eternity, every minute of which Gwyneth expected to be crushed by a burning timber, they reached the threshold of the other room and crawled over it. The smoke was as bad in here, but at least the floor was carpeted, and she hoped Harry was right in that there were windows. Windows meant the possibility of escape. She felt Gabriel’s hand frantically pushing her forward.

  She turned to make sure he was inside the room. Almost all of him was. But not enough to escape another huge beam that cracked from the ceiling with a chilling rip of wood and nails.

  It fell on his foot and leg.

  Gabriel screamed, and so did she.

  Harry turned and squirmed back. “Fuck.” He grabbed one of Gabriel’s hands. “Gwyneth, take the other hand. We have to pull him away before he gets badly burned.”

  Numbly, she did as she was told, her eyes fixed on Gabriel’s face, twisted into a mask of pain and terror.

  “Now pull…”

  The two of them crawled backward, tugging and pulling at Gabriel to get him free. Each time they did, he choked out a cry, his eyes closing, his breathing thick and tears streaking the soot on his cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry, Gabriel,” she sobbed.

  “C’mon lad,” urged Harry. “Don’t make Gwyneth cry…”

  They pulled once more and with a last desperate burst of strength they managed to get Gabriel’s leg free of the timber. Harry immediately grabbed him by the collar and dragged his entire body out of the hall, leaving enough room to slam the door.

  It wasn’t much help since the room they were in was full of thick smoke.

  “Stay where you are, both of you. I’ll find the window.”

  Gwyneth crawled to Gabriel. “You’re all right, my darling. You’re all right.” She lay next to him on the floor and kissed his dirty cheek. “You scared me.”

  “My foot,” he whimpered. “I think I lost my foot.”

  For one horrific second, Gwyneth’s mind blanked. Then she looked down his body and slumped, relieved to see both feet where they were supposed to be. Although one was in bad shape.

  “No you didn’t. Both feet are there, Gabriel. Do you hear me?”

  “I hear you.” He tried to nod. “But I can’t feel it.”

  “Oh my darling,” she managed to get an arm around his neck. “We’ll be out of this very soon. Harry will break the window and get help.”

  The sound of breaking glass filled her with hope. “Harry?” She called, her voice husky and her throat sore.

  “I found the window,” he coughed. “But it’s one of those stupid tall and thin ones. I don’t know if we can get through.”

  More loud cracks and grumbles shook the surrounding walls.

  “Let me see.” Some of the smoke was clearing, so she rose to her knees and made her way to the wall, clawing her way up it and holding her breath until she reached the space and the spot open to the air.

  Harry was right. It was very thin and although some of the smoke began to escape outside, it made barely a dent in the thick fog within.

  “You could do it, Gwyneth,” said Harry, moving beside her.

  “Give me something to knock out these edges,” she replied, ignoring his statement. “The glass edging will give us another six inches or so if we can dislodge it.”

  He crawled away, only to come back with a sculpture of some animal. “How about this?”

  “Should work.” She set to carefully smashing the glass border and within a few minutes had widened the opening. “Now you try.”

  “No, you need to go.”

  “Harry. You have longer legs. A better sense of where we are. I have to assume that people have seen the smoke by now and are on the way. You are the best person to find them and bring them here.” She turned away. “I will not leave Gabriel, any more than I would leave you if you were injured.”

  “Gwyneth…”

  “Go, my dearest one. Please. Do as I say. I love you.”

  He gulped, coughed, and then kissed her. “All right.”

  She watched as he took off his jacket and gave it to her. “Here. Put this around Gabriel’s leg so it doesn’t get too much dirt.”

  Then, with one last look that branded itself into her brain, he began to struggle through the window, easing his body sideways, going an inch at a time, and cursing softly when the bits of broken glass they hadn’t been able to clear, gouged his skin.

  It seemed like hours, but it was probably only minutes until he tumbled free into the bushes beneath.

  “I’m out. I’ll be back in no time. I love you.”

  His words echoed through the din of the fire, and Gwyneth sighed, knowing that at least he was safe.

  She crawled back to Gabriel. “Did you hear him?”

  Gabriel nodded. “Yes. Please go. Get out. Save yourself, Gwyneth. Please.” His beautiful eyes were filled with tears.

  She shook her head. “I won’t leave you, Gabriel. No matter what you say. You are mine. I love you. And I will stay here with you until help arrives.” She took his hand and lay beside him, knowing the small window wouldn’t stop the smoke or the heat and that it would not be long before this very room would be burning.

  “We’re together. That’s the most important thing.”

  Gabriel’s fingers tightened around hers. “I don’t deserve this. Don’t give your life for me. It’s silly.”

  “Hush. We’re not going to give up our lives. We’re going to be here together, holding on to each other until help comes. It will, Gabriel. We’re family. The others won’t let us down.”

  He bit back a sob and coughed again. “I…”

  “Shh. I love you,” she said again, as much for her own comfort as for his. “Remember that Wolfbridge looks after its own. You and I are Wolfbridge. Harry, Jeremy, and Evan, they’re Wolfbridge too. We survive, Gabriel. We survive.”

  And on those words, a shout rang out.

  “Gwyneth, we’re here. Stay away from the window.”

  It was Royce.

  She bit back a sob of her own. “All right.”

  There was a bang, a shudder, and a crash, and a portion of the wall fell away. Within seconds strong arms were lifting her and Gabriel and hurrying over the rubble into the blessed clean air outside.

  She looked up, convinced that she was dead. “Giles?”

  He smiled back, his eyes filling with tears. “Of course. Who else?”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The fire at Fivetrees burned for quite some time, until a day of solid rain finally turned the embers to wet slabs of steaming charcoal.

  Giles and Royce rode over to look at the remains.

  “’Tis a sad thing,” Royce said quietly. “I’ve seen too many great houses burned to the ground. Rem
inds me of France.”

  “The smell.” Giles nodded. “Yes, I too have memories of that smell.”

  Both men gazed across the mass of shattered timbers and the ruins of stone walls that had probably stood for centuries.

  “The Bishop would be saddened to see what his home has been reduced to,” commented Royce. “But perhaps we can turn this to good use…”

  “Perhaps.”

  Giles kept his thoughts to himself. He was no longer in a position to make decisions that might affect Wolfbridge, and knew Royce would certainly consult him, but when it came to the final moments…Giles would be stepping back.

  However, they’d both collaborated on a statement in reference to the late Alfred Gylbart. And though everyone had scoffed at the phrase “Much respected member of Society”, something had to be said about his death. His family, such as it was, had been notified and the coffin containing his remains was transferred with all due respect to their hands.

  The consensus was that he had been taking his own steps to secure Fivetrees, now that the legal challenge to the Mortmain had failed. He could have waited for the rest of his court-related matters to resolve themselves, but no. He had decided that if he couldn’t have it, then nobody else would. With no manor house, he could have substantially lowered his offer and there would have been no viable reason for it to be refused.

  Giles knew Judith Withersby and her husband would do all in their power to keep it out of his hands, but sooner or later it would have to be sold and the whole business of Mortmain would rise up once again. It was a messy situation, without a doubt. And even he wasn’t sure if Royce’s outrageous plans could settle it.

  So he simply sat astride his horse beside Royce and observed the remains.

  The Wolfbridge residents were getting themselves back to something approaching normal.

  Gwyneth, being the courageous woman he always knew she was, had refused to give in to her terror and insisted on taking care of both Jeremy and Gabriel the minute they got home.

  It wasn’t until the following day, when Jeremy’s arm was re-bandaged and Gabriel’s foot and lower leg properly dressed and wrapped, that she dragged herself away from her patients and came to visit Giles in his old office.

  She walked in, he stood, and she headed straight into his arms where she promptly burst into tears.

  He couldn’t help a tiny grin as he recalled that moment.

  “You’re amused.” Royce shot him a curious look.

  “Just thinking of something,” Giles confessed. “I am so proud of the way Gwyneth has grown into her position. I knew she would, but she had layers of protection wrapped around her heart. It’s taken all this time for her to abandon them.”

  Royce nodded. “You’re right. She is indeed the perfect Lady.” His fingers clenched on the reins briefly. “Giles, I—I need to tell you something.” Looking straight ahead, Royce’s cheeks coloured. “A confession of sorts.”

  Hiding his amusement, Giles nodded. “By all means.”

  “I…we…uh…Gwyneth and I…”

  “You slept together.”

  Royce blinked. “Yes. How did you know that was what I was going to say?”

  “Well…” He debated telling the other man about Gwyneth’s note, but then thought better of it. “You’re human, lad.”

  “But I wasn’t supposed to…”

  “I know. But there is no penalty for loving the Lady. Everyone in your position has. I’ve loved all the ones it was my honour to serve. But I always believed it would benefit Wolfbridge to have one man above the lure of her body. That was my opinion, and I held to it. It was easy for me, since I had Ione waiting. And I am older than the Ladies, by quite a few years.” He sighed and looked at Royce. “Have you been derelict in your duties since you slept with her?”

  “Er…no, no I don’t think so.”

  “Does your relationship interfere with anything else in the house? Your work?”

  “No.”

  “Do the other men know, and if so have they complained at all?”

  Royce shook his head. “Yes and no. In fact, they’ve welcomed me. It was a bit embarrassing, to be quite honest. I felt as if I was being inducted into some sort of club.”

  “You were.” Giles straightened in the saddle. “And I have no problem with it at all.” He grinned. “It does explain these extraordinary machinations you’ve set in motion.”

  Royce grinned back, his face relaxed and happy. “I’m glad you think so.”

  Giles turned his horse. “Let’s go back to Wolfbridge. There’s little to see here now.”

  Both men turned for the lane leading away from Fivetrees.

  “I believe some of our tenants will be raiding the stones,” Royce said thoughtfully. “I see no problem with that, do you?”

  Giles shook his head. “No. If a new house is ever planned, it will be built from scratch, I’m sure, so there’s no good reason to stop the remnants of this one going to good use.” He chuckled. “And I’m quite sure Mrs B will be proud as a peacock to have some of Fivetrees in her garden wall.”

  As they neared Wolfbridge, a sombre sight greeted them. A wagon carrying a casket was leaving and heading for Little Maddington.

  “The woman who shot Jeremy?” Giles glanced at Royce.

  He nodded. “Her name was Henrietta Burke, Susanna Brockford’s sister. And she was Gylbart’s mistress, we believe. They were seen together quite often. They both had grudges here; hers against Jeremy for what she perceived was his mistreatment of her sister, and of course Gylbart was getting angrier all the time about not getting Fivetrees. Once she realized what Gylbart was going to do to the mansion, she decided it was her time as well, and she came after Jeremy. Both of them let their hatred get the better of their common sense.” He sighed.

  “Did she have family?”

  “It’s taken the devil of a time to track down, but yes. A distant cousin, a few miles west of St Polycarp’s. I believe she has requested that Henrietta be buried in their graveyard. She doesn’t know Susanna is there too, but for those of us who do, it’s a comforting thought.”

  “Nobody knows then that Miss Burke was Gylbart’s mistress, or that she took her own life?”

  Royce shook his head. “No. We made sure of that. Our official statement says that we found her just outside Wolfbridge. She had fallen and broken her neck. Animals had unfortunately discovered the body before we did, so we made sure to wrap the winding sheets snugly.” He sighed again. “It worked, and saved anyone from terrible distress. And also allowed her to be buried in hallowed ground.”

  “A sensible solution. I trust this closes the door for a while on such violence. We’ve all had enough, to be sure.”

  “God forbid we have to deal with any more fatalities. Two young women are more than enough, and I doubt our stories would be accepted without question should something like this happen for a third time.” He looked at the other man. “I’m sorry I dragged you into all this, Giles. This was supposed to be a quick visit to go over paperwork.”

  Giles grinned. “I have no complaints, Royce. For once I can be at Wolfbridge with all the strange goings-on and not have to come up with anything other than a smile and a kind word. It’s all on your shoulders, lad.”

  Royce rolled his eyes. “Thank you for reminding me.”

  “Come on. Ione may have arrived with the papers by now. And I want to see my wife.” He clicked up the reins and urged his horse into a canter, eager now to return to Wolfbridge. Once his home, it had become a lovely place to visit. But he no longer wanted to live there.

  It was indeed odd how things could change when one loved the right woman.

  *~~*~~*

  Gwyneth still admitted to a few moments of utter horror now and again. The sensation of being trapped inside a burning building was not one she would be able to put aside for a while, but the fear was diminishing little by little as the smell of smoke diminished, and Gabriel improved.

  She could close her eyes an
d feel once again the relief at knowing they were free, the icy cold of the air outside as Giles, Harry and Royce freed them from their stifling prison.

  She could still hear Gabriel’s muted cries as Harry helped him stand, then threw him over his shoulder and literally carried him over the ruined wall and into safety.

  After that, all was a blur until they reached Wolfbridge to find Jeremy wounded, a dead woman wrapped outside in the snow, and Evan beside himself with terror for all of them.

  Now, a couple of days later, Jeremy was approaching the irritated stage, complaining about the sling and all the things he should be doing but wasn’t. That was encouraging, since he was eager to be up and about.

  Gabriel, on the other hand, was quiet. Too quiet for Gwyneth’s liking.

  When she closed her eyes, she could still see his agony when the beam hit him, and he’d faced the knowledge that he would bear the scars for the rest of his life. But his foot still worked, no bones were broken, and after the burns healed, he would be almost as good as new.

  But something was preying on his mind, and she mentioned it to Harry.

  “I can’t get him to talk about it, I can see that there is still something bothering him. Would you like to take him in some tea and biscuits? Maybe another man will be able to loosen his tongue.”

  Harry shot her a glance. “Me?”

  “Why not? You’re all friends.”

  “Not Royce?”

  “He is with Giles.” She sighed. “I’m not asking you to embroider samplers together, Harry. Just ask him if everything’s all right.”

  “For you, love.” Harry shrugged. “I will do it for you. And for him if it will help, but I have my doubts.”

  She smiled, hugged him, and picked up the tray. “Here.”

  He gave her a wry grin and disappeared into the parlour where Gabriel was sitting near the fire with his injured foot on an ottoman.

  Gwyneth decided to give them a little time, and wandered off to find the others.

  The door to Royce’s office was closed, and their voices were a murmur from behind it, so they were busy. Jeremy was probably with Evan, so she headed to the kitchens, only to hear them arguing over what to serve for dinner.