Arthur smiled as he stood and brushed down his jacket, wiping the spills of wine with a rather crumpled and dirty handkerchief. "Do you know, you can be rather pompous at times Edward. Perhaps we should drink to that-to Charles’ mysterious death and your good fortune." Bowing low he reached for the bottle on the table.
"What do you mean, sir?" Edward's eyes were stormy.
"All I mean is that Charles death will make you a wealthy man."
"I think you have drunk enough, sir and I ask you to leave my house immediately."
"Your house! Well, what about poor Christabel here? Surely all this still belongs to her, at least until the will is read out tomorrow. I suppose even you can wait that long, Edward?"
Edward glared at the man, his eyes almost popping from their sockets. His mouth opened and for a moment all that could be heard was a strange gurgling sound as he tried to compose himself. "How dare you, sir. This is not the time, and definitely not the place to air your grievances. Stephens, Mr. Chadwick is leaving. If you would be so kind as to escort him to the front door."
Raising his hands in submission, Arthur staggered perilously towards the door. "At least my conscience is clean Edward. There may be wine stains on my clothes but there is no blood on my hands. I feel sorry for Lady Christabel-a lamb to the slaughter-take care madam, that you too do not meet such an unfortunate end as your husband.” With a final bow and a smile to his audience, he left.
The room fell quiet in a shocked silence and all eyes fell on to Edward.
"The man is a drunken fool. Take no notice of his ramblings. He seems rather upset about something and I think it is not that he is particularly saddened by the actual loss of my dear brother, but more accurately the loss of his benefactor. I have my doubts about Mr. Chadwick and I think he had been playing poor Charles for a fool. The bank notified me on the day that Charles died that a large amount of money was to be sent to an anonymous benefactor. Apparently, this was not the first request of its kind. They contacted me on hearing of his sudden death to ask if they should still pay the amount. I stopped the payment on the pretext of freezing the account until the will has been read. Arthur approached me last night and asked for a loan of money. I refused of course. No doubt the money was to cover gambling debts-I hear these things on the grapevine. Last night I gave him the benefit of the doubt, but after today’s display I have no hesitation in wondering who the anonymous receiver of the money was. My brother may have been a pushover with his wealth; but I am afraid he will find short shrift with me. Now Stephens, refill the glasses and we will say no more on the subject today."
Christabel listened, her face white with fear. Arthur was a gambler and a drunkard, that she already knew, but his words had caused her concern. The facts surrounding Charles accident and sudden demise on his business trip had bothered her, but with the funeral preparations she’d had little time to brood upon them. Something in his words had stirred her heart, had rung true, and yet she could hardly believe that her husband’s death was caused by anything untoward. It was an unfortunate accident that was all.
"Are you all right, my dear?" Englebert was leaning in close to her and she could smell the tang of alcohol on his breath. His hand patted her lap affectionately and she shivered slightly, not able tell whether it was with pleasure or disgust.
"Don't worry about Arthur. He is just a drunken fool and doesn't know what he is saying. You are not alone, not while I am here, I will look after you.” His lips almost brushed her cheek as he whispered close and her heart began to pound. She was all alone and now at the mercy of them all. All she could think about was the dull, sexual ache within her and at every turn, men seemed to be touching her; wanting her. When the will had been read she could find herself without a home and what would happen then?
The room began to spin as she looked down at the table, her food hardly touched. She had hardly eaten a thing all day and suddenly felt faint. A wave of nausea washed over her and she felt her face flush. As she stood to excuse herself, the whole room went black.
Chapter Two
When Christabel awoke, her head was throbbing. For a moment, she wondered where she was. In her dreams she had been back at home, her father still alive. She had a faint recollection of Hannah helping undress and putting her into bed, but beyond that was a blur. The room was dark, it was already nightfall and she had been asleep for several hours. Her dreams had been vividly real and she could have sworn that she had felt Charles's hands upon her; cool fingertips running over her naked skin, slipping into the moist recesses of her sex. But it was only a dream, how could it have been anything else?
She would miss Charles and the feel of his body against hers. Even thinking about him now, on the day of his burial, caused a dull ache between her legs. Charles had been well proportioned and a satisfying lover. On her wedding night she had been shocked by his size; it was the first time she had ever seen a man naked. She had sat hesitantly on the edge of the bed in her virginal white lace nightgown, waiting for him.
Christabel's hand moved automatically to her breast as she cupped her firm flesh beneath the silk of her nightgown, her nipple hard and erect beneath her touch. Closing her eyes, she imagined it was Charles's touch. On that first night he had removed her nightgown in an instant, so eager to be inside her that there were had been no time for pleasantries. His hand had been rough and firm on her breasts, squeezing the soft flesh until she had shouted out in a mixture of both pleasure and pain, then moving to caress her body. Never had she felt so much emotion; it was as if she had lived for the very first time. He had removed his own clothing within seconds and her eyes had widened at the size of his manhood; his great member standing erect and ready for invasion.
Opening her legs, he had pushed his hand up to her thighs; she had been so wet and his touch like electricity upon her flesh. It had hurt at first, but once she had gotten used to the size and fullness of him, it had only been pleasure. How she had ached for him; for that magnificent shaft to enter her. She could almost feel it now as Charles pushed at her entrance; the tiny gap forced open by his girth. There had been pain at first - Charles had not been gentle, his lust had overtaken his actions and he had thrust his member deep within, causing her to cry out. Only when he had buried his full length inside her tight cavern did he pause; his hot flesh throbbing inside her and waiting for release.
Christabel was breathing hard as her hand left her breast and slide down her body onto the mound at the apex of her thighs. "Oh Charles," she whispered, imagining him taking her as she almost climaxed just thinking about him.
A noise outside the bedroom door brought her back to reality. Today was not a day of arousal, it was a day of mourning. Weeks and weeks of wearing black hung heavily before her, but she knew that Charles would have sympathized with her.
Slipping out of the bed, she crossed the shadowy room and over to the window to look outside. It had been raining. The gas lamps had been lit along the crescent and their reflection glistened in the tiny pools and puddles of water that had collected on the pavement below. The carriages had departed and she felt a short stab of relief – the guests had gone home. The memories of the day drifted slowly back. She thought of poor Charles, cold and damp in his grave and Arthur Chadwick’s words returned to her. What if there was more to her husband’s death than she had first assumed; suppose it hadn’t been an accident after all? Edward and Anne had been quick in making themselves feel at home and the two brothers hadn’t seemed particularly close.
What was she thinking? Arthur Chadwick was a drunken fool, and Edward had been right to dismiss him. She hadn’t known about the requests for money and it didn’t sound like something Charles would do, but then what did she know of his affairs, or even of his life before she had met him? He had been a private man and they had talked little of the past.
Christabel rubbed at her temples; it was all too confusing to think about it now. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she still hadn’t eaten; a gnawing ache in her
abdomen. She was sure to find some leavings in the kitchen. There was no need to wake Hannah; she could fend for herself for once.
Slipping on her robe she lit one of the small lamps by the side of her bed and carried it carefully across the bedroom, onto the landing, and down the great staircase. The house was different at night; quiet and watchful. Everything was silent except for the old grandfather clock that ticked steadily at the foot of the stairs.
Crossing the hall, she opened the door leading down to the lower staircase and kitchen. She paused when she heard the sound of voices. Mrs. Hudson and Stephens were still awake and talking quietly below. It wouldn’t do for the servants to see her in her night attire and she almost closed the door again, but stopped abruptly at the mention Charles’ name.
“I tell you Mrs. Hudson, there is more to Lord Montgomery’s death than meets the eye. I have been in this family for over forty years and have known Charles Montgomery since he was a boy. There was nothing wrong with the man; he was as strong as an ox. There have been some ill goings on Mrs. Hudson, make no mistake, but what can be done?”
There was a pause in the conversation whilst Mrs. Hudson reflected on Stephens’ words. The death of Lord Montgomery had hit her hard and she struggled to keep her emotion at bay. “Surely not Mr. Stephens, it was an accident by all accounts and either way, who would do such a thing?”
“Well that’s the thing Mrs. Hudson, whom indeed?”
The door at the top of the stairs squeaked as Christabel tried to close it. She had heard enough and wanted to retreat back upstairs to her bedroom.
“Who’s there?” The voices below stopped, pausing to listen at the sudden sound. Christabel wanted to turn back and run for the safety of her room, but Stephens would be at the top of the stairs before she had fled across the hallway. Despite his age, he was quite agile and how would she explain running away like that? There was only one thing to do, she would just have to bluff her way through the situation.
Opening the door wide, she walked carefully down the steps. The pair stood up as Christabel entered the kitchen. The fire had been lit and the room was cozy; a bottle of Charles’ favorite brandy stood half empty on the scrubbed kitchen table, along with two glasses filled part way with the amber liquid. Christabel looked away and pretended not to notice. After all, it had been a long day.
“Sorry to disturb you both. I was looking for something to eat; some cold leavings from today’s meal perhaps?” Mrs. Hudson nodded without speaking and walked to the pantry to fetch her mistress a plate of food.
“I’ll bring up a tray to your room, madam. Will that be all?” She was being dismissed by Stephens and knew it. This wasn’t her territory and it was clear that they didn’t like her invading their space and wanted rid of her as soon as possible.
“I’m sorry to disturb you so late.”
Stephens held the door back open for her. “I would advise you madam to return up to your room or you will catch your death of cold dressed only in your night wear. I will bring the tray up shortly.”
Christabel pulled the dressing gown tightly around her. It was difficult to be dignified dressed in her nightgown and rob. She suddenly felt like a child. There was a silence as she headed back up the stairs. They would wait until she was out of sight before they started talking again. Christabel felt weary. Now she had no doubt something terrible had happened to Charles, but what?
The late meal that was eventually brought up to her room consisted of little more than cold meat and bread, but she dared not argue or ask for anything else. The pair were too formidable and she, in turn, too afraid to speak up. Suddenly the night had turned menacing around her and the shadows that lurked in the room were now dark and evil. The once quiet house seemed noisy, as if every creak and groan of the house was bemoaning the fate of Charles Montgomery.
She slept very little, and when she did her dreams were dark and full of images of the grave. Charles appeared to her at the foot of the bed, his face somber and racked in pain. Opening his mouth as if to speak to her, a maggot crawled from between his lips, followed by another, and yet another, until his whole face was crawling with the white bugs. Waking with a start she sat up in terror, her heart thumping hard within her chest.
Something was not right, yet she wondered what she could do about it? By this time tomorrow she might not even have a home, let alone a husband! It was the one day she had been dreading; even more than the funeral. Charles’s will was due to be read and with it, her fate for the future sealed.
Chapter Three
The Last Will & Testament of the late Charles Montgomery was due to be read at the offices of Lewis and Lewis, located in Middle Temple Lane. Although it was only a fifteen-minute walk, Englebert had offered to take her in his cab, and whilst she would rather not sit alone with the man, she did not feel up to walking and had politely accepted. Besides, she had asked Stephens and Mrs. Hudson to ride with them; Mr. Lewis had asked that they attend, thereby implying that something had been left to them both in the will.
Although she did not like either of her servants, Christabel was pleased that they had been remembered, if even in a small way in the will; it would be something to show for their years of loyal duty to Charles.
They were shown into a large room that was paneled with dark oak and matching furniture. A very large and grand desk, inlaid on the surface with dark green leather, stood by the window and dominated most of the room. Dark, overstuffed and rather well worn leather chairs were dotted around the room; their seats shiny from the wear of countless backsides, and several wooden backed chairs were arranged in two neat rows in front of the desk, ready to seat them all.
Old Mr. Lewis was seated behind the desk and must have been at least in his eightieth year. His white hair flopped lazily over his collar and his tortoiseshell pince-nez hung from the bridge of his nose. Christabel wondered if he were asleep.
Edward and Anne had already arrived and sat on the front row; as if by sitting in the prime seats they would be the first to hear the lawyer’s words as soon as the contents of the will was read. Although Anne still wore black, the clothes were different from those she had worn at the funeral and obviously newly bought in celebration of their anticipated future wealth. Edward looked smug; he had waited long enough for this moment and had feared that it would never happen. Soon he would be in possession of the family estate and able to clear his own debts. As the second son, he had been in receipt of a yearly allowance, but it was not enough to cover both his and Anne’s lavish expenses. He had no head for business and had lost money in dubious schemes abroad that had lured him with the promise of tripling his investments but in reality had left him with less than nothing. But that was all behind him now.
The door opened and Arthur Chadwick slunk in to the room. He had obviously had a late night and looked disheveled, as if he had been sleeping rough, the smell of alcohol and stale tobacco clinging to his clothing.
“I’m surprised you dare show your face, Chadwick,” Edward spoke without turning to acknowledge the man, and Arthur sat in silence behind the main group.
As soon as they were all settled, Edward cleared his throat, anxious for the formal proceedings to start. The will was scheduled to be read at eleven the morning after the funeral and the large clock on the wall showed that there was still five minutes to wait.
“Lewis old man, can we get down to business. Surely, we don’t have to stand on ceremony now that we are all here?”
The old man jumped at the sound of his name and if he had not been actually asleep, then was most certainly in a light doze. The glasses slipped from his face as he fumbled to right himself. Peering over the top of his pince-nez he looked along the row of seats; counting as he did so. “I must wait for the appointed time. You see there is one other person to arrive. We shall have to wait until the appointed hour of eleven.”
Edward was silent for a moment; his ruddy cheeks now crimson. “What do you mean another person? We are all here man. Wake up Lewi
s, there is no one else.”
At that moment the door opened and in walked a young man. Christabel let out an audible gasp; it was the man she had seen in the church and again at the side of Charles grave. He wore a somber and cheap looking suit and looked awkward as all eyes turned towards him.
“Good morning Mr. Crawley, I’m glad you could make it. Now do please be seated.”
As the young man took the seat nearest to the door, the clock on the wall started to chime eleven. It left Edward open mouthed, the words on his lips silenced for once.
***
Christabel could feel her heart start to pound. The enigmatic stranger was also a benefactor of her husband’s will! She wondered why he had never mentioned the handsome young man to her. She imagined him naked and immediately blushed; the same strange ache returning to her breast.
Lewis shuffled the papers and was about to open the formal proceedings when an almighty crash in the second row of seats disturbed the silence. Mrs. Hudson had fainted and lay sprawled out across the floor. Mr. Stephens stepped quickly to her side and began to fan her with a handkerchief as she quickly came back round to consciousness.
The poor woman had not been well since the death of Lord Montgomery and the whole affair had hit her hard. Her face was pale as she dabbed at her eyes with Stephens’ large white handkerchief, and although she insisted that she was quite alright, remained looking quite dazed and staring into her lap. Mr. Lewis poured a glass of water from the jug on his table and passed it to Edward to hand to Mrs. Hudson. When all were finally seated once again, Lewis shuffled his papers and flicked a paper knife under the wax seal on the envelope before him, removing several sheets of paper. Lowering his gaze, he read the contents in silence.
RANGER (Forsaken Riders MC Romance Book 19) Page 88
