Henry Buckthorn cleared his throat and said, “Please stand before me, my lord and lady. Are you still of a mind we proceed, your Grace?” He glanced again at Eleanor. She coughed again but her nod was definite. “Good, we shall begin.”
Lucie hardly took note of the words of the short service, only answering when prompted. Rowten stepped forward and took her hand to pass to Richard in lieu of the father who would have given her away, and she thanked him with a look. He smiled back lovingly, and she knew she’d held his regard since she was a tot, though her attention was fully on her grandmother, aware that she was sinking fast and hardly able to concentrate. She was drawn back to attend the words of the ceremony when the vicar asked for a ring. There was a moment of surprised tension when Richard stood at a loss, but swiftly, he pulled his signet ring off his little finger, looked apologetically at Lucie, and said, “Will this do for now? I will replace it as soon as possible.”
She smiled tearfully. “I will be honoured to accept it, my lord.”
Her brief words heartened him as he handed his ring to the vicar to bless. It was loose on her finger, but she curled up her hand and whispered, “Don’t worry, I won’t lose it.” Whatever he would discover about her nature from now on, one thing he was sure she possessed was kindness and consideration. Despite the spat they’d had, he instinctively knew she was a gentle maiden. Someone he could and would honour unreservedly. When he slid the ring on her finger, he knew a moment of complete astonishment when his whole mind and soul suddenly recognized that this action was forever. This woman he was marrying was his for all time. There was absolutely no way would he allow an annulment. He had found his bride and would keep her as his wife, no matter what happened.
* * * *
The rest of the day passed quietly as everyone waited on the doctor’s coming. When he arrived and examined Eleanor, the outcome was not in doubt. She was not expected to live. Dr Makepeace shook his head with sadness when he spoke to Richard. “The pneumonia, as I expected, has become full blown. She is having great difficulty in breathing.”
“Not everyone dies from that illness,” protested Richard. “She might have a chance.”
“Unfortunately, we cannot lift her to ease the breathing. The back injury is too severe to allow movement. As it is, the opiates I have given her are barely enough. I have to err on the side of caution or she won’t breathe at all.”
No one slept that night as Lucie and Richard kept a vigil at her bedside. Then, at three-twenty in the morning, Eleanor roused briefly, smiled at Lucie, closed her eyes, and breathed for the last time.
Richard allowed some minutes to pass for Lucie to regain a semblance of composure, offering his handkerchief to replace the sodden wisp she held before holding out his hand. He said, “Come, my dear. We can do no more, and you are exhausted. Retire to bed, and try and sleep. There will be much to do tomorrow, and I do not want you falling ill as well.”
She rose at his bidding, and giving a last look at Eleanor, whose former pain-ridden face had smoothed into a surprisingly peaceful appearance, she followed him out of the room. Dazed, yet thinking of her newly married status, she said haltingly, “W-what do I do now?”
“Go to your room, have your maid see to you, and sleep. There will be plenty of time ahead to plan how we will go on.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and patted her arm. “Don’t worry about anything. Just rest, my dear, you have nothing to fear.”
She nodded and went towards her bedroom where Mary was waiting to help her undress and get into bed. She sank back against the pillows with relief, feeling the tension in her body gradually subside after so many hours of sitting in apprehension, waiting for the end. She didn’t think she could sleep, but in moments, she was dead to the world.
Richard did not retire and neither did Rowten. They sat together in the library, conferring on the arrangements that had to be put in place for the funeral. Both felt totally at ease with one another, talking man to man. They each held a glass of whisky in their hands.
“Firstly, I wish to thank you for the service you have always carried out for my Godmother. You were her mainstay in her life, and she both respected you and regarded you as a friend. I know this from the many times she spoke of you and also from the way you stepped in and acted as parent to my wife and gave her away. I also presume you know the wedding was unplanned in every respect but nevertheless not objected to by me—”
“Yes, I’m glad of that, sir,” Rowten interjected. “I was aware that Lady Lucie was not entirely in agreement with the Duchess’s strategy, but I have never known her Grace to be at fault with any planning. When the duke died, she took over his reins, and the estate has prospered ever since. It was a grievous blow later when her son and his wife were drowned, but she still carried on regardless and brought Lady Lucie up to be a fine, loving girl. She deserves the best of men to look after her, and I feel she has it with you. I was concerned a while ago when Lord Tasker came back to stay. There was some talk, you see, about his first wife. She died mysteriously in a coach accident, and the cause was covered up. I was always a little suspicious of the man after that and in fact warned the duchess when he came here to see her.”
“Your instincts were exactly right, and I trust you will be on your guard. This is why the wedding was carried out with such haste. Her Grace was aware of the danger and made sure Lucie would be protected. My plans from now on will be subject to change. There is the funeral to be arranged, the will to be read, and legal settlements put in place. Though I will have the ultimate responsibility of the estate, I regard it as my wife’s property, hers to inherit. I’d appreciate your advice on close relatives that have to be told. The village and staff will be involved, but I’d prefer to keep the general total of house guests, and even those invited to the church, to be kept as small as possible and exclude the hangers-on, those that want to come to satisfy their curiosity, if you understand me?”
He pulled a wry face. “With such a shocking affair as this, they’ll come out of the woodwork! So, Rowten, I’ll rely on you to oversee that only those neighbours the duchess was in the habit of mixing with regularly should be invited. Too many people will put a strain on my wife, and she has enough to contend with already.”
“I understand perfectly, milord. If it helps, I have a niece who I’m sure will be happy to write the necessary invitations and anything else you require. Her parents have been active in seeing her well educated, and she is very intelligent. I will oversee and direct her.”
“Excellent! You have reminded me I have to get my secretary here from London. I have yet to determine how useful he will be as I only hired him recently, but if he and your niece can work together, then the onerous office duties will be resolved.” Another burden he wanted taken off Lucie’s shoulders. “Incidentally, when we depart for my own home, I will need an able custodian to administer this place while we are gone. Are you happy to be that man? You have had years of supervising the place anyway, we are in accord with one another, and I cannot think of anyone more suitable.”
“My lord, I am at your service entirely, and I am proud to assist you if you so wish.”
“Good, we are agreed. Another thing settled. I can leave with an easy mind and tackle the next big problem—that of getting my own estate working equally as well as this one, if it ever becomes possible. The place has been sadly neglected for many years, and after a brief visit there when I landed from abroad, I know I will have my work cut out to effect changes. I don’t suppose you happen to know...”
“As a matter of fact I do. My nephew has come back from college and is badgering his father with all sorts of ideas for the farm they own...happen he might be the man you need? I have heard he is a trustworthy man.”
“Glory be, Rowten, have I discovered a veritable miracle worker? Well, send him along, and I’ll have a word with him. Because of the transformation I plan, it might be better to get in a stranger to manage so I won’t have to wrestle with those who don’t want chang
es.”
He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost five of the clock, and dawn is breaking. I’m going to take a ride to clear my mind and relax from yesterday’s devastating chaos as well as exercise my horse. I suggest you get your head down for a couple of hours and sleep. Today will be frenetic, and both of us need to have our wits about us. I’m glad we’ve had this personal talk, Rowten. This estate is of prime importance to Lady Lucie, and together, we must be strong enough to hold things together. I don’t know what the future holds for our marriage, but having wed her, I intend to keep her safe and hopefully happy.”
“My lord, I would never think otherwise of you now I have got to know you. Be assured, I am your man in all respects, and I will keep faith with the estate for her ladyship.”
Both men stood and clasped hands, and once again, Rowten had tears in his eyes.
Richard rode far out to the outermost edge of the estate before he reigned in Jamal and dismounted. Leading his horse, he walked to the edge of a steep slope and gazed at the view ahead, lit with the rising sun, without really seeing it. His mind focused on the happenings of the last twenty four hours and what he intended for the future. Although his plans had slightly changed by acquiring a wife so early, in essence, he was still on track to restore his house and attend to the requirements of his life.
The bolt from the blue that shocked him most was the path he perceived that lay before him. He had resolved, in a moment of sheer clarity as he slid his signet ring on Lucie's finger, that there was no way would he agree an annulment. He had married her, ergo, they would stay married. Whether she would agree immediately would be put to the test, but he knew his nature and the determination he always brought to bear when he wanted things to go his way. He didn't love her, and he predicted squally days ahead, but she was a comely lass and bedding her would be a gift. He stepped back and mounted. It was time for an early breakfast and for taking command of Ashbury Mead.
* * * *
It was later that morning, once news of the duchess’s death spread like wild fire round the area, that Rowten, after dealing with two early callers, had, with the Earl’s permission, ordered the main gates to be closed and stationed two able-bodied gamekeepers on duty to inspect any further visitors and either turn them away or allow them entry. He was firmly precise with his orders that only those who had identifiable business with either the Earl or the impending funeral details would gain entrance.
It was mid-morning when a coach drove up, and the driver yelled to the men on duty to open the gates and be quick about it. This attitude did not sit well with the guards. Neither did they link it with anyone who had pertinent business with Ashbury Manor. Immediately, one of the keepers yelled back, “Sorry, no admittance.”
Straight away, he was met with a load of verbal abuse from the driver that he was out of order and to do what he was told.
Approaching within reach of the coach through a side gate, the other keeper looked to see who was in it. The man inside, a gentleman by his dress, pushed open the door and poked his head out. “What’s the matter with you? Open the gates!”
“I’m sorry, sir, we have our orders. No admittance, except by approval.”
“And who gives approval? Not you, that’s for bloody sure. I’ll have you know I’m Lord Tasker, and I’ve come to see Lady Braden. Open those damned gates, or I’ll have your heads on a platter! Just see if I won’t!”
The keepers looked at each other, a silent exchange that did not need words. They both retreated and swung open the gates to allow the coach to pass through. After they closed them again, one of them hissed, “You’re faster than me, Joseph. Get up to the house as quick as you can and warn Mr Rowten. He’ll be better at tangling with the likes of him!”
Thus Rowten, having passed on the news to Richard of the imminent visitor and receiving his orders, was in the hall, waiting. The main door was tightly closed.
He waited for some moments after the loud knocking—presumably by a walking stick—and slowly opened one side of the double doors, though not fully.
“Yes?” he said, as he looked at the man on the step, his brows uplifted at full mast.
“I’m Lord Tasker. I’ve come to see Lady Braden.”
“Lady Braden is no longer available, my Lord.”
“Oh, she will see me,” Tasker said confidently, not taking in the actual significance of the butler’s emphasis. “Anyway, you haven’t enquired. Do your job and go and ask her. Meanwhile, show me into the drawing room, damn you!”
“Unfortunately, due to the current circumstances, we are not taking callers into the house. I’m sure you understand, my lord.” Rowten began to close the door.
His face red with fury, Tasker jammed his stick into the hinge to prevent any closure.
“You are out of order! I’ll have you sacked, by God I will—”
“Trouble, Rowten?” a deep, cultured voice questioned.
Rowten immediately bowed, stood back, and opening the door wider, said, “My lord, this gentleman will not take no for an answer. He wishes to see her ladyship.”
“Does he indeed?” Richard stepped forward into the doorway. “Who are you, sir, that you disturb the peace of a grieving family? The duchess is hardly cold and you come making demands? Get about your business. I assure you my wife will not see you.”
Edmund Tasker’s face reddened further as he spluttered, “Your wife! Nonsense, not her! The lady I wish to see is not married. She is Lady Lucie, and I am a friend of hers.”
“Oh, but she definitely is, Tasker. Lady Lucie is my wife, and I have no doubt at all she will not claim you as a friend.”
“Your wife! How can this be? There has been no time for a wedding or notification of banns. You are obviously lying! I want the truth, and I demand to see Lucie!”
“Your request is denied. As for lying, I recollect you are better at it than I!”
All at once, Tasker recognised who he was talking to. “You! When the hell did you return to England? Last time I saw you was New Orleans. You were not married then!”
“We travellers get around, as you no doubt know, having recently returned yourself. I assure you, though ’tis none of your business, I am beyond doubt married to her ladyship. Ask anyone. And furthermore, you are not welcome here, nor ever will be. So be on your way before we help you to it.”
Richard scowled at Tasker, and nodding at something behind the baron, who was standing seething with rage at the news, he raised his arm. Tasker turned and looked to where Richard was pointing and saw two more keepers standing by his coach. Swearing blasphemously under his breath, he growled, “Lady Lucie was promised to me.” He banged his stick at the ground. “The duchess said so...I called only a few days ago.”
“Delusions, Tasker! You lie! I was here when you called, and I know what she told me after your meeting. She did not choose to inform you of our family situation, which was entirely her affair. One cannot question it or even need to. It is fait accompli. Our lives do not concern you, so enough of the protesting and pomposity. Remove yourself!”
“I’ll see you pay for this, so I will!”
“I’d advise you to take care. I believe the Louisiana police are still searching.”
Almost spitting with fury, Tasker marched down the steps. Once at his coach, he yelled at his driver and got in. Richard and Rowten watched the vehicle lumbering down the drive followed by the keepers.
“You are a ‘bang up’ gentleman and no mistake, sir,” Rowten said admiringly. “That rummy fop didn’t know which side his bread was buttered. The proverbial ‘flea in his ear’ bit him right well and truly! I’d want you on my side any day that I would.” Rowten paused, overcome with excitement and flustered at mixing his metaphors, and cleared his throat apologetically. “Beg pardon, my lord, I got carried away with listening to your eloquence.”
Richard laughed and decided to introduce a few clichés of his own to lighten the moment and keep Rowten cheerful. The death of the duchess was a dreadful bl
ow to her devoted servant. “Well, when you have travelled where I have in the world, one learns to guard one’s interests, speak as you mean to go on, but also look to the future and the dangers that lie there. From the look of him, I’ll wager that man has gone away to lick his wounds and review his options. I knew enough about the gossip concerning him in Louisiana to know he needs careful watching. He will return, I’m certain of it—as certain as I am that he had something to do with Eleanor’s accident. Except, Rowten, that piece of information is for your ears only. It will serve no purpose to mention it to anyone. Proof is needed, which we haven’t got, at least not yet. It is a pity that we have the funeral to contend with and so many people milling about. Pass the word round discreetly, Rowten, for our people to be on their guard. Everyone and everything must be carefully watched. Most important of all, her ladyship must not be left on her own at any time. I know I can rely on you to watch over her.”
“That you can, milord. I’ve known her from a babe, and she is dear to my heart. I’ll make sure she is kept safe.”
Chapter Seven
When Lucie woke up, it was to find Mary sitting on the window seat, darning a torn frill and quite content to wait on her mistress rousing. When she heard Lucie stir and yawn, she came over to the bed and smiled a welcome.
“Good morning, milady, I hope you feel well-rested today and not so exhausted. The chocolate will be but a moment, and your bath water will come up when you are ready.”
Lucie sat up and glanced at her bedroom clock. “Goodness, Mary, I’ve overslept. Why didn’t you wake me? I must get dressed at once. There is so much to do—”
“Not for you. Your husband gave orders you were to rest and take your ease. He will see you at luncheon, so you have plenty of time to wash and dress. The household has everything in hand for the coming event, and he says you must not worry.”
A Perilous Marriage Page 8
