Of course they’d said yes.
“Don’t be too long, Grace,” Father had cautioned. “If you can’t—”
“I won’t, Father,” she’d said. “I promise.”
Then she’d gone to find Daniel.
And had kissed Daniel, a sensation so wonderful, unlike anything she’d ever experienced, she would’ve given all she had if only she could have remained living in that moment forever.
But she knew such a luxury of time was impossible, so instead she had asked Daniel to get her a pistol and then show her how and where to fire it at a man to ensure he did not feel any pain nor would he survive.
Now Grace was back.
The object she’d brought with her was clasped between both hands, but she held those hands behind her back, concealing the object from their view.
“Grace?” Kate asked in a wavering voice. “Show me your hands. What are you hiding back there?”
But when Grace neither obeyed nor answered—she doubted she could speak to her sisters right then if her life depended on it—both her sisters cried harder. In five days of increasingly awful events, this was the most horrifying moment yet.
“That’s enough of that now,” Father said, one daughter in each arm, patting both their backs simultaneously. “Off you two go.”
Kate and Lizzy each kissed one of his cheeks and then, sobbing, with arms around each other’s waists and without a glance at Grace, they fled the room.
Now it was just the two of them.
“It won’t be so bad, Grace,” he reassured her.
“Of course not,” she said, forcing a smile, while inside she thought, It will be awful. It will be so awful, I don’t know how I can possibly bear it. And: What if I let you down?
Then she felt the tears filling her eyes—she couldn’t have held them back if she tried, no matter how dearly she wished she could be brave for him, just this once. Her eyes filled with tears until her vision swam with them.
“I love you, Father,” she managed to say, “so very much.”
She let her left hand fall away from the object so it was only her right hand holding it behind her back now, and she told herself it wasn’t even there as she approached him.
“And I you, my dear,” Father said. “Now, come on, get it over with! Why, it won’t be so bad at all! One moment, I will be here, and the next”—here he turned away from her, onto his side, focusing his gaze on the far wall—“I will be in heaven, where one day, although I hope it won’t come too soon, I shall be reunited with you all, and—”
Grace pulled the trigger.
Chapter
Fifty-Two
Kate had tried to get, along with Lizzy, as far away from Father’s bedroom as possible. But there was nowhere in the house far enough to be safe from the sound of that gunshot ringing out. And as soon as she heard it, unthinking, she found herself racing back the way she had come.
They all came running.
Kate arrived first, just in time to see Grace step out of the room, the arm holding the gun now dormant at her side.
“It’s finished, then?” Kate said, even though she needn’t have.
Anyone looking at Grace, with the blood spatter on her clothes, her hair, some on her face even, couldn’t have mistaken that it was finished.
What had they all expected? It was never going to be like it had been with them: a shot to the brain, a beheading with a blade, and little mess or fuss afterward to clean away, save for severed body parts. But no blood. Nothing like this.
But Father had still been a living, breathing human being when Grace shot him. So what could they have expected?
And what did Grace expect from them now?
For, without meeting anyone’s eyes, Grace nodded curtly and, gaze cast downward, moved to slink past them.
What did Grace think? That they would revile her? That she would become a pariah now among them?
Kate stepped forward, unwilling to let Grace pass. Then, gently, she removed the pistol from Grace’s hand and, more gently still, folded Grace in her arms.
“Thank you, Grace,” Kate whispered in her ear. “Thank you for doing what I could never do.”
Then Kate released Grace, and it was Lizzy’s turn to embrace and thank their sister. And finally, Mother, laying her face against Grace’s and whispering, “Thank you, my dear, dear girl.”
And then when Mother was finished, when the whole family was finished with Grace, Kate watched in wonder as Daniel stepped forward with his arms outstretched and even greater wonder as Grace fell into his arms.
Kate would think about that later.
But for now: “So,” Kate said to those assembled, feeling as though she might be addressing the whole world, “what do we need to do next?”
Chapter
Fifty-Three
A funeral was in order.
That’s what had been decided.
Martin Clarke was not someone like the valet Parker, to be stepped over; or Dr. Webb, to be left where he fell; or poor Mr. Young, to be hastily disposed of. Martin Clarke was the Earl of Porthampton Abbey, and as such, he deserved a proper burial, no matter what it took to achieve one, no matter what the risks involved.
“It’s such a shame,” Mother said to her father, daughters, and mother-in-law, who were assembled with her in the library. “To have so few people. I’m sure, if they could, the entire village would want to turn out for Martin, to pay their respects.”
None of them said what they were thinking: Who knew how many people were left in the village now, or what condition those remaining might be in?
“Well,” Mother said with a shrug, “there’s nothing to be done about it now. We have who we have, and that shall have to be enough. The whole household will be there, the servants, too, of course. I’m sure that Martin would appreciate that everyone who mattered most to him will be in attendance.”
“Surely,” Kate said, “you don’t mean that all the servants are to be included.”
“Who,” Mother said, “are you suggesting we leave out?”
“Why, the stable boy, of course! It’s his fault, by way of his aunt, that Father is—”
“It’s not his fault,” Grace said, “nor his aunt’s, either. What happened to her could have happened to anybody. It would have eventually happened to Father if…”
She let the thought trail off, and no one bothered to finish it.
“It could still happen to any of us,” Lizzy said. “And stop calling him that, Kate!”
“What?”
“‘The stable boy!’ ‘The stable boy!’” Lizzy made a sound of disgust, something she rarely did. “Why must you keep calling him that? He has a name, that name is Will Harvey, and he’s a person!”
“So-rry,” Kate said.
“Your sisters are right, Kate,” Mother said. “Further, we should have a service for Jessamine Harvey as well.”
“Surely, Mother,” Kate said, “you must be joking.”
“Surely, Kate, I am not. Will Harvey is a member of this household now—everyone currently under this roof is—and as such, he is as much entitled to see his relative properly laid to rest as we are your father.”
“Don’t you think, Kate,” Grace said, “that it was just as hard for Will Harvey to do what he did as it was for me to do what I did? What you couldn’t bring yourself to do?”
“Perhaps—”
“Enough, Katherine!” Grandmama’s voice rang out. “You must listen to your mother, who, I might add, is doing a fine job of managing things.” She turned to Fidelia. “You know, my dear, Martin only ever wanted you to be beautiful and happy. I hope you will find a way to still be both.”
“For once,” Grandfather said, “Hortense is right, and I quite agree with her.”
“Thank you,” Mother said, briefly covering her mother-in-law’s wrinkled hand with her own still pretty one before going on. “Now, then! What things need to be attended to? We’ll have to find proper attire for Benedict and Rowena. I
doubt our new cousins thought to bring mourning clothes when they came for a weekend…”
…
Daniel and Jonathan went to the barn, and there they worked together to create a box in which His Lordship might be laid. He should have had a proper coffin—the finest in the land!—perhaps a rich mahogany, elaborately carved, with gold fittings or, at the very least, brass. Instead, he would need to settle for a simple pine box, plain as could be, even a bit misshapen due to the need for haste.
Back at the house, the earl was wrapped in a shroud and laid in it, the top of the box then closed, for no one would want to look who didn’t have to.
Daniel, Jonathan, the duke, Benedict, Mr. Wright, and Mr. Cox then bore the box down the grand staircase, and the others followed them out as His Lordship left the abbey for the last time.
…
It was a cruelly beautiful day for November as they stood on the lawn, the family, servants, and the duke ringing the rectangular hole that had been dug in the ground.
Surrounding that group stood a second line of people: the farmers and villagers who had come to live at the abbey for now, their backs to those lining the hole in the ground. The farmers and villagers all held weapons in their hands as they faced outward, on the lookout for any threats that might come to disturb the peace.
Benedict and Rowena Clarke stood in their borrowed mourning clothes.
Grandmama leaned stoically, both hands on the head of her cane, dry-eyed. Let the others cry. Indeed, most of them did. She had shed tears for her son when she left him earlier in the day and then later when the shot had rung out. She would not cry again.
The duke swallowed, several times, thinking someone should say something, but not knowing who that person might be or what could possibly be said.
Lizzy and Kate stood on either side of Mother.
The walk would have been too far for Grandfather, who had remained behind.
When Daniel stepped to Grace’s side and she put her hand in his, no one said a word about it, not even Mr. Wright.
Will Harvey stood apart from everybody.
There was no vicar to say anything. Martin Clarke had performed that role in the little church on Sunday, but who was there now to perform that role for him? Who was there to hold everything together now that the earl—the head of the family, the spirit of the abbey, the heart of the entire community—was no longer with them? And who would these people be without him?
“Well, my dear,” Fidelia said, “you always did your best to show me a good life, and no one can say that it hasn’t been one.”
…
Later, sometime after Her Ladyship spoke her one sentence and the earl had been covered with dirt, Will was surprised when, rather than leaving him to bury his aunt by himself, all of them—every single one—accompanied him to another part of the property.
Will was surprised, and pleased.
And he was beyond touched when Lady Kate put her gloved hand over his and gave it a sympathetic squeeze.
He was about to thank her for the kind gesture, when she leaned closer and, in a whisper no one else could hear, said, “Horsey.”
He drew back, looked at those startling blue eyes in wonder. “You remembered,” he said.
“I never forgot.”
…
Still later, in the kitchen, Fanny put her small hand on the shoulder of Mrs. Owen, who was still sobbing.
“Don’t you worry about anything,” Fanny told her. “I know the family and their guests will be needing their luncheon. But you just go on ahead and cry all you need to. I’ll see to everything.”
And then Fanny did just that, pausing from her labors just one time to take out some kippers and put them on a simple plate.
“There you go,” she said to Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, as she set the plate on the floor. “His Lordship would want you to have these. You, too, Henry Clay.”
…
At the funeral luncheon, they all spoke of the earl.
They talked about all the things he had been to them: kind, irascible, funny, charming, impulsive, difficult, generous, stubborn, childish, wise, changeable.
“As changeable as the weather,” Mother said fondly. “If I didn’t like one of his moods, it hardly mattered—wait, and a different mood would be along in a minute or two.” She sighed. “He was my life.”
After the food had been eaten and the wine drunk, and the conversation had died down, Mother took to her bed.
Chapter
Fifty-Four
“Mother,” Kate said, sitting down on the edge of the high canopied bed, “you’ve been such a rock through all this, you can’t let me down now.”
“What else is there that you want me to do?”
“Why, take charge of things, of course! Keep doing what you have been doing so well. With Father gone—”
“All your father ever wanted me to do was look beautiful and be happy.”
“And you can still do those things! But you can also—”
“And with your father gone, Cousin Benedict inherits the estate. You know, Kate, what your father hoped, once he discovered Benedict’s existence, was that the two of you might marry.”
“Yes,” Kate said drily, “I had figured that part out. And is that what you want for me, too, Mother?”
“No,” she said, surprising Kate. “Unless at some point you decide that you love Benedict, that’s not what I want for you at all.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I am content to be what I am, what I have always been.” She paused. “But I want more for you, Kate.”
Kate considered this, what this more might consist of.
Then she rose from her place, crossed the room, and yanked on the pull cord, causing a bell to ring far away from where she stood.
“You rang?” Mr. Wright said, entering a short time later.
“Mr. Wright,” Kate said, “I wondered if you might do something for me?”
“For you, my lady, anything.”
Mr. Wright would never be Father—no one could be—but he’d always been so devoted to her, and for this she was grateful. Indeed, she was devoted to him as well. In a way, he was her responsibility now.
“Good,” she said, smiling. “Please summon the rest of the family, including our new cousins, and the duke, Daniel, and Will Harvey, too. Tell them all I’d like to see them in the library.”
…
“What is it,” Grandmama said, “that couldn’t wait until morning?”
“Do we really need to have yet another meeting now?” Lizzy said.
“Daniel’s already set up the perimeter defense,” Grace said. “There are guards out there right now, protecting us even as we speak.”
Yes, Daniel had been useful, and Kate was grateful to him for it. His ideas had been excellent, even if they’d been enacted too late to save Father, but ideas weren’t everything. And while military knowledge was a fine thing—the world would always have need of great generals—it wasn’t all that was needed or even the most important thing.
“Don’t worry, Grandmama,” Kate said, not bothering to respond to either of her sisters’ comments. “This shouldn’t take long.”
“But what exactly is this this of which you speak?” Grandmama said.
“I would never have dreamed such a thing possible,” Grandfather said, “but now Hortense has been right twice in a single day—the world must be tilting farther on its axis! What is this this, Kate?”
“This is deciding who is to run Porthampton Abbey now that Father is gone.”
“He’s been dead less than a day!” Grace objected.
“Yes,” Kate said coolly. “I am aware of that. But if we don’t act quickly and smartly, we might all be dead before too much longer passes. Or worse.”
“Who did you have in mind?” the duke asked.
Kate narrowed her eyes at him. Was he suggesting that he be the one? He had stepped forward, after all, taking the reins from Father once before. Bu
t then, Father had needed the reins taken away from him. She, however, wasn’t Father. She found, though, no guile in the duke’s eyes. He simply wanted to know.
“Why,” Rowena Clarke spoke up, “I should think it would be obvious.”
“Is it?” Kate said.
“Of course. With your father deceased, Benedict inherits the estate. He is in charge now. It is what the entail dictates.”
“And who is there here to enforce that entail?”
“Pardon?”
“Do you see any lawyers here? Judges? Is the king, perhaps, hiding under your skirt?”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand all of what you’re saying,” Rowena Clarke said huffily, “but what I am understanding, I do not like.”
“Too bad.”
“It’s all right, Mother,” Benedict said genially. Ever genial, was Cousin Benedict. “I think I see where Cousin Kate is going with this. And truth to tell, I don’t want Porthampton Abbey.”
“You don’t?” Grandmama said, sounding grossly offended.
“No,” Benedict said. “Naturally, when I came here on Friday, I was all set to claim it…someday. Although I never suspected someday would come so soon and certainly not like this, nor would I want it like this. It’s not mine to lead.”
That’s good, Kate thought, because I’d never have let you take it anyway, not now.
“If not yours,” Grandmama said to Benedict, “then whose?”
Kate glanced over at Will and saw him looking straight back at her. She hadn’t told him what she planned to do. Why would she? And how could she, since she’d only just come up with the idea a few moments ago when she’d been upstairs with Mother? And yet somehow, instinctively, he knew, for he tilted his head toward her in a nod that could only be seen as approving agreement.
The others waited. And while they waited, Kate thought.
She thought about how lucky they’d been so far, if you could use the word “lucky” about a series of events and circumstances that had also included the death of Father. But yes, lucky. So far, they’d mostly only been attacked by stragglers. But three at once had attacked Father, and more would come. More would find them there. And soon. It was just a matter of time.
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