by Wendy Vella
Eden's father had never liked the Earl and Countess of Wynburg, and he had nurtured these feelings in his children, especially Dev, who had bore the brunt of their father's confidences. It seemed now all that hatred was about to come to a head. Eden jammed her earplugs in tighter and hoped there was not too much yelling, as her ears would never take it. She also hoped they would not pack up and leave London today, as the little ones would never cope with another long journey so soon.
They silently filed from the room behind their aunt and uncle, following until they reached another room into which they were shepherded. Each of the Sinclairs took a seat before the large desk while the Earl sat behind it with the Countess standing at his back. This was a sign of solidarity and Eden's throat felt suddenly dry. What was their uncle about to tell them? Whatever it was she knew they would not like it.
“Firstly I will address the matter of our abandonment in your eyes,” the Earl said. “Your father kept your aunt and me away from you from the day he married your mother. We were allowed no contact with you and every time we tried to visit he picked you all up and left before we arrived. Any gifts we sent were returned unopened.”
“You lie!”
“Sit down, Cam.” Eden watched Dev place a hand on his brother's arm, urging him back into his seat.
“We have only your word on this, my lord, and you must understand that we loved our parents. Therefore, to ask us to believe what you say is impossible.”
Eden nodded at Dev's words.
“Show them the letters, Sally,” the Earl said as he looked up at his wife. “It must be done, love. They need to hear this or we shall never be able to move on with them in our lives.”
The Sinclairs watched the Countess open a drawer in her husband's desk and remove a pile of letters tied in a lemon ribbon.
“Read the first out loud, Sally, and then the one at the birth of Eden, the rest they can read themselves later.”
Eden felt a terrible unease settle over the siblings as their aunt nodded and opened the first piece of paper and began to read out loud.
“My darling sister, I hardly know how to begin this letter I am forced to write to you. Firstly, please know that I love my husband very much and you have no need to fear he will mistreat me. Sally, when you came for a visit yesterday I was so excited to see you. Having been married for only a few months, I had so much to tell you and I do miss our talks so.”
The Earl handed a handkerchief to his wife as she sniffed; Eden watched the gesture and was filled with trepidation. What did that letter contain that was so dire?
“I had no idea that my darling Thomas would treat you so terribly, Sally. He was rude and ill-mannered and I told him so after you left. But, Sister, I fear he has a great jealousy for you and Elijah, and he has told me that under no circumstances are you to return to Oak’s Knoll again. Of course I argued with him and perhaps in time he may relent, yet in this I must honor his wishes for now. Please try to understand, my dearest. Thomas is a good man yet he is prone to fits of temper. I will write soon and hope he has changed his mind.”
The Sinclairs watched their aunt fold the letter in half before placing it on the desk. She then reached for another. Eden did not look at her brothers, instead, reaching to her left she took Cam's hand in her own, and then to the right she took Essie's, who in turn was gripping Dev's. They would face this together—whatever this was. She felt the tension travel through her, strengthened by their heightened senses.
“I will read the letter we wrote to your father just after your birth, Eden, and then I will read the reply from your father,” their aunt said.
“I feel ill,” Cam whispered. Eden squeezed his hand hard.
“You have made your wishes regarding the Countess and me explicit over the years, but I implore you to reconsider for the sake of your children. Having lost our only child we merely wish to offer love to your family. My darling Sally struggles greatly with the loss of both her beloved son and sister in her life. Please, I beseech you, let us visit if only to get to know our nieces and nephews, and for Sally to seek solace in the arms of her sister.”
Eden watched as the tears began to roll down their aunt's cheeks.
“I-I cannot c-continue, Elijah.”
Dear God, Papa, what you did to me was bad enough, but how could you have done this to all of us? She watched the Earl stand and hug his wife, then lower her into the chair he had vacated and take up the position at her back, with another letter now in his hand. He began to read in a deep, clear voice.
“You will never see your nieces and nephews, Wynburg. They are mine and you cannot have them, and as for your wife, I'm sure if you buy her a new bauble that will suffice. Now leave us alone, we want neither your money nor your time. If I see you on my property, I will shoot you, and I will aim to kill.”
Closing the letter, their uncle looked at each of them in turn. Eden knew their expressions were the same. Shock and despair gripped the four eldest Sinclairs.
“I need to see that letter,” Dev got to his feet, and held out his hand. He then looked at the page the Earl passed him. Eden saw the moment he realized the truth.
“Is it be true, Dev?” Essie asked.
“Yes, it is our father’s handwriting.”
Dev lowered the letter to the desk and stumbled back to his seat. “Why have you told us this?” his words were harsh, as if forced from his throat.
“Your mother wrote to us before she died and said that we must tell you the reasons we had not visited if your father died before we did. She believed you would be left without money and need our help, but that your father's words may have poisoned you against your aunt and me.”
“How often did you try to visit us?” Essie questioned, her words wavering as she attempted to regain control.
“Every year once Devon was born, until the day your father threatened me with a shotgun.”
Cam released his sisters' hands and leaped to his feet. With clenched fists he prowled to the window and looked down at the street below. Cam had always been the most demonstrative of the Sinclairs, his emotions on show for everyone to see, and she feared he would take this news very badly. He turned then and glared at the Earl.
“How could he have left us to struggle like that? The past few years have been hell, but most especially on Dev. He resigned his commission to care for us, for God's sake!”
“I sent your mother money when times were really bad, Cam. I also sent Bertie and Josiah to you, and it was through them I kept in touch with what was going on in your lives,” the Earl said, going to stand before him. “I did not tell you these things to make you hate your father, I told them to you because I want you to accept what we are offering you all. Your father loved you, never forget that.”
Cam snorted but remained silent.
“Why have you waited to tell us this?” Eden questioned.
The Earl looked from Eden to his wife; the Countess gave him a little nod.
“Sally has been very ill since your mother passed away. The doctors told me I would lose her if I did not take her to a warmer climate, thus we traveled to Italy and there we stayed until she returned to health. We did not learn of your father's death until we returned to London, and it was then we immediately started writing to you. Had you not returned our last letter, we had made plans to travel to Oak’s Knoll to see you.”
“What did you want to offer us?”
Dev's words were cold and she knew he was suffering as much as his siblings with their aunt and uncle's revelations. Perhaps more, as he was the one who had struggled to put food on their table.
“Is now the time for this discussion, when you have all received such a shock?” the Earl queried.
Each of the siblings nodded; they wanted all their shocks in one sitting.
“Very well.” Once again he went to stand behind his wife. “We would like to provide dowries for your sisters, Devon, and to loan you enough money to aid you in your investments.”
�
��What do you know of my investments?”
“I made it my business to be aware of how your family has fared over the years. I am also aware that the few investments you could raise capital for have succeeded, and it is through this that you have survived.”
“My God,” Dev said, looking stunned. “It was you who made sure we survived?”
Holding up his hand, the Earl of Wynburg said, “I merely invested in whatever you did, nothing more, Devonshire. Please do not think me foolish enough to throw money into something that would earn me no return.”
“I-I do not need your help.”
“Yet you will take it all the same, as it is not for you alone. We will discuss the money I will invest in you another time, but it will not come cheaply and I will expect a healthy return on my investments.”
Dev just stared at their uncle, for once at a loss for words.
“Cam, we will also have a discussion in private regarding your future, but for now I want you all to know that you may stay with us for as long as you wish. If London becomes too stifling then we have several other estates that lie empty, and they are at your disposal if you so wish it.”
“Oak’s Knoll is our home,” Cam said, anger still evident in his voice.
“As it shall always be,” their aunt soothed. “But enough for now I think, Elijah,” she added, regaining her feet. “Now we are to go shopping. Ladies, please gather your bonnets and the twins, and we shall leave in a few minutes.”
Eden squeezed Dev's shoulder as she passed, then quietly followed Essie from the room. Once their aunt had left them to collect her things, the sisters gave in to their tears, hugging each other as they cried over their father's betrayal.
“It hurts.” Eden said.
“Can you believe it of our father?”
Yes! Eden cried silently. I know what he was capable of. “I once heard mother and father arguing over our aunt and uncle, and father was saying horrid things. So yes, as much as I wish it wasn't so, I can believe it.”
“Why did you never speak to me of these concerns you had?”
“They were my concerns, not yours, Essie.”
“And yet I am your sister and we have always shared everything.”
Not everything, Eden thought. She couldn't tell Essie the truth, not ever. “I did not want to worry you,” she added lamely.
“What are you not telling me, Eden?”
“Nothing. Now hurry, Dev has just told me that I am to go straight to my room and not listen to the conversation he and Cam are having with our uncle.”
Essie took Eden's hand and gave it a squeeze and then tugged her up the stairs. Minutes later Eden had another set of earplugs firmly in place.
“Perhaps I should just listen to make sure no one is yelling?”
“No, now hurry with your bonnet, I want to see London.”
“I don't.” Eden shuddered.
CHAPTER NINE
James watched as Buttles, his butler, led his sister into the room.
“How did you sleep, Samantha?”
“Very well, thank you.” She settled herself in the chair across from him.
“And do you like eggs for breakfast?” She shook her head. “Perhaps toast then?” Again silence, with only a head shake. Facing a bayonet was proving easier than trying to have a conversation with his sister, he thought grimly, looking at the top of her head. What did one talk to young girl children about anyway? He could hardly discuss stocks and bonds or horses. It was then he heard Devonshire Sinclair's voice in his head. “Miss Somerset and Miss Dorset will have crumpets and jam for their morning repast.” He had said those words at the inn when they were seated awaiting their morning meal, and while he was not overly fond of the oldest Sinclair, he had to admit the man was very comfortable with children. James wondered if Samantha would like that. Christ did they even have crumpets and jam in the house?
“I believe Lady Samantha will have crumpets and jam for her morning repast, Buttles,” James said in his most pompous voice. Samantha made a snuffling sound, which could have been a giggle but he wasn't sure, and then nodded. Victory!
“And shall I have Mrs. Gotheram procure a companion for Lady Samantha, your Grace?”
Of course she needed a companion, James thought, pinching the bridge of his nose, why the hell hadn't he thought of that.
“Yes please, Buttles.”
“Mrs. Gotheram has also assured me that the nursery is in need of a thorough cleaning. I have set the maids to work this morning, but she fears it will also need completely refurnishing, your Grace.”
Thank God for his housekeeper. James felt his head begin to throb. “Do whatever you and Mrs. Gotheram believe is necessary, Buttles, thank you,” James said, hoping his butler would now clear off so he could finish his breakfast before he lost his appetite completely.
“Mrs. Gotheram has also asked me to enquire if you would visit the nursery, your Grace, at ten o’clock this morning to discuss the requirements for Lady Samantha.”
Looking at the large clock that stood before him, James noted it was nine thirty. Half an hour to eat and read the morning paper. Could he read the paper with his sister sitting silently across from him? Dear Lord, another ritual it seemed would have to go by the wayside whilst breakfasting with her.
“We will visit the nursery as soon as my sister has eaten, Buttles,” James said, hoping that now he would actually leave the room and stop firing questions at him.
Samantha's breakfast arrived shortly thereafter and James was relieved that she tucked in straight away. She ate like she did everything, silently and neatly. Small movements that gave no one reason to either look at or censure her. James felt ill watching her, because he had done just the same when he was a small boy. She stiffened as a drop of jam fell onto the white tablecloth beside her plate. He watched as she shot him a quick look, her eyes wide and terrified, her fingers curling into themselves so they could not be whacked hard with whatever implement of torture was handy. Their father would have punished her had he been present. James, however, was not like his father and never would be.
“J-James I did not mean to—”
James reached across the table and picked the spoon out of the jam pot and turned it over so a large dollop fell onto the cloth between them.
“There, it seems we are both clumsy today, Samantha.” James then picked up his knife and fork and proceeded to finish his breakfast, which now tasted like ashes in his mouth. Samantha looked first at him and then at the large dollop of jam he had dropped on the cloth, then picking up her crumpet, she gave a little smile and began to eat once again.
“Thank you, James.”
Her words were tentative, but she had spoken without him prompting, and in that moment he felt they had made progress.
“Are you ready to inspect your rooms, Samantha?” he asked twenty minutes later.
“Yes,” she said, wiping her mouth.
James assisted Samantha from her chair. Remembering how the Sinclairs had constantly seemed attached to each other, he held out his hand. Samantha took it, and they made their way down the long hallway to the stairs. It felt so precious clasped in his, precious and vulnerable. Looking around him as they walked, he noticed how dark and austere his home was.
“We need to redecorate this house, Samantha.”
“Yes, it is very dark, James.”
And you hate the dark just like I did, he realized. Because their father had not wanted to spend money on candles or lamps, therefore they had lived in darkness.
“You will never have to live in the dark again, Samantha, I promise you.”
James kept up a steady stream of words as they made their way to the nursery, which was not easy, as talking had never been his strong suit, yet Samantha appeared to listen and occasionally nodded or murmured.
Eden had told him to exercise patience when dealing with his sister and it had been advice that went against his nature, as he was a man who took action and expected results. However, James
was determined to forge a relationship with Samantha, so he would be patience itself.
The nursery had two huge windows that looked over the gardens at the rear of the property. There was a main room with two smaller ones leading off it. The walls were a drab gray and the curtains equally as drab. Looking at his sister, he thought that perhaps the curtains were made of exactly the same fabric as her dress. Should young girls dress in such dull colors?
“I think you need some new clothes, Samantha.”
“Yes, please.”
Well that seemed comprehensive enough. Now how did one go about buying young girl clothes, James wondered.
“Your Grace, Lady Samantha.”
“Mrs. Gotheram.” James acknowledged his housekeeper as she entered the nursery behind them. Short and stout, she had been with him since he was bundled from Raven Castle and sent to London at age ten. It had been she who was waiting for him when he came home from school and she who had helped him through his darkest moments. James had spent many hours with this woman in his youth.
“We will need all new furnishings and entertainments for Lady Samantha, your Grace.”
“Of course, please get whatever you think is necessary.”
“And what of other things, Your Grace?”
“Other things, Mrs. Gotheram?” James said, feeling totally at sea, as he had no idea what the “other things” were. What sort of brother was he?
“She'll need things to occupy her time, your Grace. Books and such. Because I am sure there will be plenty of times when you are not here and then Lady Samantha will be on her own.”
Mrs. Gotheram always made her agitation known by the line of her lips, drawn straight and tucked inside each other.
“Ah-ah perhaps Samantha and I will see to the other things then.”
When had he ever opened his mouth before thinking? Yesterday, when you promised Miss Somer a trip to Astley's, James reminded himself.
“Excellent, your Grace, I knew you would take to the task of looking after your wee sister once you had some guidance,” Mrs. Gotheram said, patting Samantha's cheek as she bustled past. “Now about the colors in here, do you have any particular favorites, my dear?”
