by Abigail Agar
Lord Winchester narrowed his eyes at his daughter as he lifted up a bell and rang it. Lady Withersfield merely laughed lightly as she crossed the table to sit on the side next to her mother, across from Jules. As Lady Withersfield took her seat, so too did Jules and Lord Winchester.
Jules watched the woman intrigued by her. The last time he had seen her she looked like a slip of a girl, clean faced and innocent of the world. This evening she wore crimson on her lips and a blush on her cheeks. Jules was mesmerised by the transformation of a girl into a woman that he saw in her. The scent of lilies that clung to her beckoned him to come closer, even if it was neither the time nor the place.
With much effort, Jules looked down at the plate that a servant set in front of him. He should comment on the food. His mother would be upset if he did not compliment the hostess on her food. Jules took a breath and said, “What a lovely meal you have had your staff make, Lady Winchester. I have always been fond of a hostess who goes right to the meat course.”
Lady Winchester gave the man a smile. “My husband is very fond of his stews and likes them served as soon as they are hot.”
“Well, that is when they are best,” Jules said in agreement as he fished out a lovely big chunk of what looked to be beef out of the broth and vegetables. The juice was hot and slightly sweet. He gave a nod of his head at the taste.
Lord Winchester said, “This stew is the reason our cook works for us. She makes the best stew on this side of England, I would wager.”
“It is commendable,” Jules said with a smile.
Lady Withersfield spoke up. “I rather prefer her bread.” She tore off a piece of the roll and popped it into her mouth with a smile at Jules who stared at her for a few seconds. She gave him a curious look before she turned her head to answer a question from her mother that Jules had not even heard. “No. I think Miss Lorraine is taking the evening meal in her room. She is still feeling a bit faint.”
“Miss Lorraine?” Jules asked curiously.
Lord Winchester said, “She is Penelope’s governess and tutor. She would normally be joining us for the evening meal, but she has been a bit under the weather.” By the expression on Lord Winchester’s face, Jules assumed the man would rather the governess stay in her rooms all the time. Jules wondered if Lord Winchester actually liked any of his own staff.
“It is the season the doctor says,” Lady Winchester added as if to assure Jules that they were not sickly.
Jules laughed. “Ah, yes,” he said with a smile. “My mother was often affected by the seasons and the flowers that they brought. She particularly could not walk outside when the oak trees in the yard were spreading their yellow dusting around. She would be in bed for a week if she dared.”
“I get a bit affected by that as well,” Lady Withersfield said in commiseration. “But Miss Lorraine will be as right as rain in no time. She just has to stay inside and drink lots of warm tea for a bit.”
Jules said, “My mother always said peppermint tea helped her.”
“I shall make sure that Miss Lorraine is drinking some then,” Lady Withersfield said with a smile.
There was a warmth that spread through Jules. Not a burning or a searing as the blade had done to him, but a gentle warmth as if from the hug of someone beloved. Jules returned his eyes to his stew and focused for a bit on simply eating.
The family talked among themselves for a while before the course was done and servants came to clear the table. It took the staff little time before the next course of a salad was in front of them. Jules was grateful that it was a light course. He already felt better from the stew, but he did not want to put too heavy a meal in his stomach yet.
Still, Jules was feeling better, and he was grateful for that at least. He eyed the Lord and Lady. There was something about the way they interacted that felt off somewhat, but Jules had met plenty of couples like them in the past. Men in power often wielded it indiscriminately.
As they began to eat the second course, Lord Winchester enquired, “Are you still searching for a bride?”
Jules’ eyes came up, and he stared at the man for a moment not knowing quite how to respond to that. He dared not even look in Lady Withersfield’s direction. Had she put her father up to asking that question?
Lord Winchester continued as if Jules was not staring at him in bewilderment. The man’s voice bellowed out like he was blowing a trumpet rather than talking. “You were at the party same as my wife and daughter, and it seemed a reasonable assumption that you were looking for a match.”
“This really is not the time to speak of this is it?” Jules asked.
Lady Winchester said, “Of course not.” Jules looked relieved then immediately tensed as the woman added, “I am more curious as to whether you truly saw nothing of the person who stabbed you?”
“You and Penelope did not see him either, darling,” Lord Winchester pointed out, his voice echoing around the chamber as if the man truly had no idea how loud he actually was.
The three other people at the table, Jules included, knew that Jules was the only person who had a chance to see the attacker, but that was a fact that Lord Winchester was not privy to. Jules did not wish to ingratiate himself to any members of the Winchester household. He cleared his throat. “I really do not think that is an appropriate conversation in front of ladies such as yourself, Lady Winchester.”
“Quite right,” Lord Winchester chimed in as he thumped the table with his fist.
Lady Winchester flinched at the noise of it. She looked like she very much wanted to press the subject a bit further, but her husband gave her a long stare that ended with her dipping her head and accepting what he had said.
Lord Winchester added, “The fact is, Your Grace, that without my daughter’s timely rescue, you would probably be dead. I should think that that would make you grateful to her.”
“I am,” Jules insisted, his eyes darting over to Lady Withersfield. The young woman’s eyes, however, were on her father.
Lord Winchester said, “Surely you find her lovely, do you not?”
“Father,” Lady Withersfield said with emphasis as she put her napkin down on the table.
Jules knew that Lord Winchester was implying that he should show his gratitude by marrying Lady Withersfield, but he had not expected the look on the young woman’s face. It was clear that she did not appreciate her father implying such things. Jules frowned slightly at that.
He should not be so interested in the young woman. Indeed, he should be focused on getting home so he could be free to continue his investigation. The more he thought of it, the more he decided he needed to find Lord Portland and put an end to this cat and mouse game of theirs.
“That is a lovely painting,” Jules said as he gestured towards a large painting of Lord Winchester over the fireplace. Jules had hoped that bringing up the painting to the man would suitably sidetrack him.
Lord Winchester smiled and said, “Oh yes. It is remarkable, is it not? Penelope painted it a couple of years back. I really think she has a wonderful hand when it comes to painting, do you not agree?”
“Did you truly paint that?” Jules asked Lady Withersfield in astonishment. When she nodded, Jules said, “I would have said that a master painter had done that portrait.”
Lord Winchester nodded his head. “She has a quick mind and a keen eye for catching the likeness of people. As of late, though, they have not been as happy as they once were.”
“She does a fine job,” Lady Winchester interceded.
Lord Winchester nodded again. “Of course, she does. I just meant they have not been the same.”
Jules eyed the young woman who took a sip of her drink and refused to look at him. Jules looked down at his salad and wondered if he should say something more, but Lord and Lady Winchester were still bickering back and forth a little the way married couples often did. He let them have their conversation as he ate.
It was not until dessert that Jules began to get truly restless. He swung
his foot forward to stretch the muscles in his aching leg and came down on a toe that did not belong to him. He saw Lady Withersfield jump slightly.
Her eyes shot up to him, and she gave him an accusatory look. Clearly, the woman thought he had done it on purpose, which Jules found mildly amusing, but he gave her a helpless expression and a slight shake of his head.
“Are you quite well, Your Grace?” Lady Winchester asked.
Jules cursed his luck that the woman had seen his odd facial expression. Lady Withersfield eyed him expectantly. Jules narrowed his eyes at her before he put a smile on his face to look at her mother. “Yes, I just drifted away in thought and lost myself for a moment.”
Lady Winchester frowned at him, but Lady Withersfield looked positively amused by his little white lie. Jules looked down at the pie in front of him and sighed. He picked up a bite of the berry pie and ate it slowly letting the juices melt over his tongue with their sweet tartness.
A day ago, all he had to think of was his revenge, and now here he was struggling to keep thoughts of the young lady across the table from him out of his head. What a strange day it had been, Jules mused silently. If he did not have his quest, could he be happy with Lady Withersfield? Jules’ eyes came up to look at the woman and the way she held herself. The question might be would he be able to let her go to finish his quest?
***
When everyone had finally retired for the night, even the stairs let out groaning that sounded tired to Jules as he climbed the stairs to his room. He had meant to bring up the subject of his departure, but the talk at the table had derailed his thoughts. He would be here at least another night. That thought did not comfort Jules, nor did it bring him great misery.
“Thank you for aiding me tonight,” Jules said to Scott as he grasped the doorknob to his bedroom.
Scott nodded his head. “Do you need assistance getting undressed for bed?” The man looked like he clearly thought the answer should be that Jules did indeed need help, but Jules very much wanted to be alone with his thoughts.
Jules said, “No, I can manage. Go on and find your bed.”
“If you are certain, Your Grace,” Scott said. The man hesitated until Jules nodded at him and made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Reluctantly, Scott turned and headed downstairs to go to the staff quarters.
Jules entered the bedroom that was his for yet another night. He shut the door behind him and leaned on it heavily. The room felt so still that the air was heavy with the stillness. Jules was not bothered by that. After the loud booming voice of the Marquis, Jules found the quiet rather nice.
Thoughts of the Lady Withersfield haunted him like ghosts. He shook his head as if to loosen their grip yet she remained. It was not until the thoughts forced him to think of the questions that plagued him that he pushed away from the door. Jules was lonely, that fact was plain to even himself. Yet, that did not mean that he should give up the pursuit of truth to obtain a bit of companionship.
Lady Withersfield was headstrong and not easily dissuaded. She was a capable woman, but was she a woman that Jules could love, not just admire? He scoffed at the very idea of it. His mother and father had a loving relationship. Jules had always admired how they loved each other, grounding each other and lifting each other in turns.
Could he love like that? Dare he even try? Jules paced across the room and fell onto the bed. His eyelids were heavy, and he did not bother to even remove so much as his coat. He drifted off to dreams of his mother and father.
When Jules’ eyes came open, he looked at the moonlight on the foot of his bed. He sat up, his stiff muscles protesting every movement. He looked out the window that was over his bed. The moon was high in the night sky, which lay clear and dark.
The room felt small and overly warm. It was absurd that it was this warm. The air that lay still and quiet now felt like it would suffocate him. Jules struggled to remove his coat and finally after wrestling with it for some time managed to get it off. He tossed it away as if to rebuke it for its stubbornness.
Still, the air was so warm. Was he fevered? Jules pondered it. Did not fevers make a person cold? Jules stood up and felt a thirst for air. He got up and forsook his cane in his eagerness to get out of the ever-shrinking room.
The air in the hallway hit him like an ice shower. Jules breathed in the cool air and marvelled that a thin wooden door could bar such heat. His dreams came back to him, and he looked out the window that adorned the far side of the hallway.
Dare he love as his parents had? Jules still had no answer to that question. He had sought it in nightmares and dreams of splendour, but all he had were the smiling faces of his parents in his dreams.
Chapter 7
(Seasonal home of the Marquis of Winchester, London. Earlier that same evening)
Penelope left the dining hall after the meal and went straight to Miss Lorraine’s rooms that were set down a hall from the library. The woman liked it that way. The governess was off by herself in the stillness of the house which was perfect for her love of reading.
She knocked on the door and called, “Miss Lorraine, are you in?”
There was a long pause before the woman’s soft voice called back, “Come in.”
Penelope pushed open the door and spied the governess sitting on a sofa in her sitting room. Miss Lorraine waved her over, and Penelope obliged by letting the door close. Penelope walked over and took the seat beside the woman when she patted the cushion.
“How was the meal?” Miss Lorraine asked as she closed the book she had been reading, marking the page carefully with her bookmark that Penelope had made for her many years ago.
Penelope laughed. “Well, it would have been better if father had not been trying to auction me off to the Duke of Richmond the whole meal, while mother tried half-heartedly to interrogate the man.”
“Oh dear,” Miss Lorraine said with a laugh of her own. “Well, parents will be parents. Each of them is looking out for your best interests in their own way.”
Penelope scoffed, “I do not know what Father hopes to gain, but I know the man thinks that he will gain something.”
“If he is looking for affluence, then he might gain something. If he is looking for reputation, then I am not sure that your Duke of Richmond has much to offer,” Miss Lorraine said as she picked up a dainty teacup adorned with poppies, which were her favourite flower.
Penelope eyed her curiously. “You spoke last time we talked as if you had heard the rumours about him. I was not aware that you listened to gossip so much?”
“I do go out occasionally, and I correspond with a few ladies of society. It is hard to avoid gossip if you speak with ladies of society, Penny.” Miss Lorraine shrugged her shoulders with such a delicate grace that Penelope envied the motion. The robe she had over herself was a silken affair that Penelope would never have been allowed to wear, but Miss Lorraine liked to dress so in the comforts of her own rooms. Outside of the rooms, she maintained English decorum, but inside her rooms, her French sensitivities reigned.
Penelope nodded her head with a sigh. “I barely go out, and I still have to hear about things that have nothing to do with me. The Duke’s woes, however, do perplex me. I do not know how anyone can see the man as a murderer if they looked in his eyes.”
“Not everyone has a painter’s soul, Penny,” Miss Lorraine said before she took a sip of her tea. When she sat the teacup back on its saucer, she turned towards Penelope and said, “The question you need to ask is why does it bother you so much what others think of this Duke?”
Penelope frowned. “I have not stopped long enough to think of it. I helped save him, should it not be right that I worry over his continued existence. The Lord threw us together, and I feel as if there must be some grander design that I cannot see with my flimsy mortal eyes.”
“Perhaps,” Miss Lorraine said as a smile spread across her lips. “Or perhaps it is the heart of a girl who has only recently discovered that she can contain the love of a man as a woman
does.”
