When Ash Falls

by Rachel Van Dyken

  “You do know, Mother,” pressed Edward, “that I have never actually met the Carringtons?”

  “You’ve met Ranford, dear.”

  “Have I?”

  “Why, yes,” the dowager answered sweetly. Too sweetly.

  “And, how old was I when I met him, Mother?” He speared her with a steely look of his own.

  “I cannot recall the exact age…”

  “Take a guess.”

  “Oh, about three or four perhaps.”

  Edward smirked as his suspicions were confirmed. There was something going on.

  “It is odd, is it not Mother, that we would be invited to stay with Ranford six years after Father died, and for no real reason?”

  “Of course not,” Lady Catherine answered brusquely. “He and your Father were terribly close, and I have always maintained a correspondence with Lady Ranford. I expressed a wish for a change of scenery and she was kind enough to invite me to stay for some weeks before the Season. Would you have me travel here alone at my age?”

  Edward looked at his mother and raised another eyebrow. His mother was far from in her dotage. At 54, she was neither old nor incapable of travelling without her son. She was fit, healthy and had retained much of the beauty of her youth.

  She had aged some six years ago when his father had passed away suddenly in a riding accident but, being good ton, had recovered remarkably well and was happy to become the dowager at a relatively young age. Now she could sit back, relax, and pressure her only son into marriage and the production of grandchildren. Besides which, she wasn’t alone, never going anywhere without her lady’s maid, Annie.

  Edward knew his mother well enough to know that something was going on. And he’d be damned if he’d walk into the situation, whatever it may be, blind.

  He turned to question the other occupant of the carriage, his cousin Tom. Tom and he had always been close, more brothers than cousins he supposed. The son of a second son, he was very comfortable being a gentleman of means but little in the way of occupation. He had half-heartedly studied the law before settling himself in a small estate outside of London. He lived comfortably and well. His wealth could not be compared to Hartridge’s but there were few men who could boast of that. His father was, by all accounts, a cruel and bitter man whose jealousy of Edward’s own father had caused a lifelong estrangement. Tom had been taken under wing by the dowager and her late husband, saving him from his father’s cruelty and allowing him to develop into a happy and pleasant young man without being poisoned by his father’s moods. He was also very likely to be privy to whatever it was Edward was missing in this scheme.

  “Well, Tom,” he questioned, “are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

  “Your grace?” asked Tom, politely.

  “Come now Tom, do not play the innocent with me. I’ve known you far too long for that to wash. What am I doing in an Irish backwater?”

  “I am sure I do not know what you mean, Edward. Your mother wanted to visit with her very dear friends. It is only fitting that her son should come too.” He blinked a few times, which was always a sure sign that he was nervous, but his face remained a cool mask of innocence.

  Biting back a growl of frustration, Edward changed tact.

  “You know, it is terribly irresponsible of me to take myself out of the country when there is work to be done. Our investments and properties will not take care of themselves.”

  “No, they will not,” his mother agreed, “which is why you employ the most efficient and capable stewards for when you cannot be there. You are one man, my dear. It would be quite impossible for you to shoulder all of that responsibility yourself.”

  Too late, Edward realised his mistake. There’d be no stopping Mother now.

  “If only you had a wife to unburden yourself with,” she began. Predictably. “Someone who could help ease your worries, talk through your problems and–”

  “And what Mother?” he interrupted, sounding sharper than he intended but annoyed by the same lecture yet again. “And spend all of my money, gossip with her dim-witted friends, and parade me around Town like a circus act?” he asked, unable to hide the distaste in his voice.

  “Edward,” his mother admonished, a little shocked at the bitterness in her son’s tone, “you cannot believe that I would want anything less than a suitable wife for you.”

  “Our ideas of suitable are vastly different, Mother,” he commented dryly, “you would have me marry a cow if it was from good stock.”

  The bark of laughter from the other side of the carriage brought Edward’s attention to Tom.

  “You,” he snapped, his tone accusing, “should know better than to go along with Mother’s schemes, Tom.”

  “It is no scheme, Edward. It is just a visit.”

  Edward turned away from them both to stare moodily out the window once more. They’d closed ranks and neither would tell him anything.

  Well, maybe it was genuinely just a visit. It would be terribly awkward, and unorthodox to say the least. But if he hadn’t agreed, his Mother would have gone on about it until the Season, with all its distractions, started and he really did not want to have to deal with that.

  The carriage started to turn and Edward noticed they were approaching a pair of heavy wrought iron gates. The entrance, presumably, to the Earl of Ranford’s estate. His steel grey eyes took in his surroundings as the carriage began its slow progress up a meandering gravel path set in sweeping verdant grounds.

  Ireland was really breathtakingly beautiful, he had to admit. Though there were similarities to his own country estates in Surrey, Lancashire, and Wales, there really was an air of mystery and magic amongst these hills and dales.

  Edward was never one for fanciful thoughts. He had great responsibility, which he took seriously. Though his friends and family knew him to have a kind heart and wicked sense of humour, he rarely gave way to thoughts which were illogical or insensible. He shook his head slightly, laughing at himself.

  The carriage rounded a central water fountain and stopped before a rambling red brick house that was the formal seat of the Earl of Ranford.

  The house itself was built on land which had been occupied by an old and important Clan in Irish history and there were traces still of that ancient civilisation dotted around the grounds. There were ruins that could be explored, and his mother took great delight in telling him about the hills of the faery folk and ‘little people’ of Ireland.

  He should really have her looked at.

  Aside from the supernatural nonsense it was a beautiful old house, very well situated with a central rectangle design flanked by extended wings on either side.

  The afternoon sun bounced off the windows giving the place an altogether welcoming feel.

  No sooner had their carriage stopped than the front door opened and a flurry of activity ensued.

  Footmen were brought immediately to their assistance by the butler, who introduced himself as Murphy — a very well turned out man, appearing to be in his sixties and with a pleasant Irish brogue.

  “Good day to ye, your grace, your grace, sir,” he said deferentially, bowing to each of them in turn. “If you will follow me please, his lordship is waiting to receive ye.”

  Edward offered his arm to the dowager and together they walked up the steps and into the hallway of the great house. His mother gasped in approval and Edward could tell she was noticing striking similarities between here and his estate, Banfield, in Surrey.

  The floor was covered in a similar light coloured marble, a central staircase veered out to a surrounding balcony on the first floor and a truly magnificent chandelier took pride of place in the centre of the ceiling, drawing the guest’s eye up.

  Murphy coughed discreetly and indicated that they follow him to a room on the left.

  He heard Murphy announce them and a booming voice telling him to show them in at once. He shared a look with his mother— hers, one of pleasure, his, ever suspicious.

  Tom hun
g back and appeared disinterested in the proceedings. Edward knew he would already be wishing to acquaint himself with the staff and kitchen. Mostly concentrating on the kitchen.

  They were shown into a beautifully situated receiving room. Decorated in tones of palest yellows and whites it was bright and airy and perfect for a hot summer afternoon. The windows looked out onto a beautiful vista of green leading down towards what looked like a sizeable pond centred by yet another fountain.

  “My dear Kate, how wonderful it is to see you again.” This rather informal – greeting was conducted by a statuesque woman who had risen to greet them. She stood a good head taller than his mother, was slim and willowy and carried herself like a true lady, her blonde hair, showing shades of grey, pulled into quite a severe knot at the back of her head. Her dress, though simple in deference to her age, was excellently made. In short, here stood the very epitome of a lady.

  “Mary, it has been far too long,” the dowager responded equally as warm, which was unusual for his usually reserved mother, and the two women embraced.

  His mother turned to him to draw him forward.

  “You must remember my son, Edward, the Duke of Hartridge.”

  “I do of course, though it has been many, many years. How good to see you again, your grace.”

  Edward bowed politely then turned toward the man who was awaiting his turn for introductions.

  This man had been his father’s oldest friend and, by all accounts, the pair of them could have given the duke and his set a run for their money, in their hay day.

  The earl was a tall and broad shouldered man whose face was remarkably unlined, though his hair was a pure white.

  It was quite a bittersweet moment for Edward, to see his father’s best friend stand healthy and happy before him, when his own poor father should have been here too.

  The earl stepped forward to kiss the dowager on the cheek, and then turn to clasp Edward’s shoulder.

  “My dear boy” —obviously the Earl wasn’t one for formality— “how good to see you now after all these years. And what a fine gentleman you’ve turned out to be. Why you are the very image of your father at this age. A finer man I never knew, and I miss him still.”

  “Thank you, my lord. I miss him too, every day,” Edward responded.

  “La, let’s have none of that ‘my lord’ business. Why, I held you as a babe in arms.” The earl smiled warmly, his brown eyes twinkling.

  Edward could not help but respond to this friendly old man with a smile of his own. He immediately liked the earl and countess very much and was beginning to think that maybe this visit would not be such a bad thing.

  “You must call me Henry,” the earl continued jovially.

  “And I am Edward, of course,” responded Edward. He really had no choice. Propriety did not seem to be high up on the earl’s list of priorities.

  “Your grace.”

  Turning he found Lady Ranford bringing a pretty young woman forward for introduction. Edward did not know how he had missed her before, she was extremely like her mother, though in the first blush of youth.

  She was as tall and willowy as her mother, and where Lady Ranford’s hair was greying and her skin gently lined, this lady’s hair was as bright as the sun, her face unlined and blushing prettily.

  She was dressed in a pale lemon summer dress, which highlighted her slim figure. Edward cut a quick glance to his mother. Standing before him was the very picture of what the dowager would want for a daughter-in-law, he was sure. His thoughts were confirmed by the sheer joy on his mother’s face.

  Biting back a sigh of frustration, he smiled politely and bowed over the lady’s hand. Yes, she was pretty, carried herself well and was no doubt a lady.

  And was just like every other debutante that had been flung his way since he reached the grand old age of eighteen. His father had warned him about the debs and their mamas, but to see them in action was quite an experience. And, as he got older, they got more intense and, well frankly, frightening.

  “May I present my daughter, Lady Caroline,” Lady Ranford continued.

  “Your grace,” Lady Caroline demurred, curtseying very formally, and very properly, to the duke.

  “How do you do, Lady Caroline?”

  “Very well, I thank you. And you? I hope your journey was not too tiresome.”

  Did she think he was ancient, for goodness sake? Incapable of travel in a plush and luxurious coach?

  “No, not at all Lady Caroline, I only wish I could have ridden part of the way. I found myself in need of fresh air.”

  “Why Edward,” his mother pounced like a cat on a mouse, “what a wonderful idea. Why don’t you let Lady Caroline show you around some of these beautiful gardens?’

  As subtle as a blacksmith’s hammer, his mother.

  “I’d be delighted to, your grace.”

  Well, he could not bloody well say ‘no’ now, could he?

  He looked around at the faces of the occupants in the room. Every one of them wore matching expressions of calculated delight and it suddenly dawned on Edward, sending an icy chill down his spine, why it was he was here.

  So they’d decided he and Caroline should marry, had they?

  Damnation. He would be having serious words with Mother as soon as he had the chance.

  Now, however, was not the time.

  “Care to join us, Mother?” Edward asked through gritted teeth.

  His mother blinked innocently at him. Too innocently.

  “Oh no thank you, dear. I am quite tired out by the journey. I should much rather take tea and catch up with my very– “

  “Dear friends,” finished Edward bitingly.

  He wanted to say to hell with the lot of them and storm out to the nearest inn.

  But he was raised impeccably and good manners won out.

  “Lady Caroline, it looks like it is just us,” he said smoothly. Though she blushed rather fetchingly at his words, her eyes remained ever so slightly calculating and Edward could not help but feel that everything she was saying and doing was nothing other than a performance. Bearing that in mind, Edward turned to Tom who was studiously ignoring him and instead looking at his hands rather intently. “Tom, I do apologise. Did you not say you felt the need to stretch your legs too?” Edward’s tone and expression remained unfailingly polite but Tom knew him well enough to know that this was nothing other than a command. Albeit sugar coated.

  He coughed a couple of times before smiling. “Yes, yes I did. I should be glad of a walk.” Edward nodded ever so slightly in approval and pointedly ignored his mother’s audible sigh from his left.

  He waited in the parlour, listening to the chatter of old friends while Caroline fetched her bonnet. Within a couple of moments they were ready to go.

  As soon as they left, the earl puffed out a relieved breath.

  “Well, that went very well,” he commented happily.

  “Yes,” agreed Lady Ranford, “and how beautiful they look together.”

  The dowager smiled her agreement, but she knew that her ear was in for a bashing when her fiercely independent son returned.

  Outside, the sun beat pleasantly down on the trio as they made their way down the sweeping lawn toward the pond.

  They were silent for a moment or two, each wondering what they should say. Somewhat to Edward’s surprise, it was Lady Caroline who broke the silence first.

  “We are so very pleased your mother and you could come to visit with us, your grace. My mother has been quite beside herself with excitement.” She smiled favouring him with a charming, if formal smile.

  “I am happy to do so, Lady Caroline,” he replied pleasantly. “I know my mother was very much looking forward to it also.”

  More silence ensued. Edward usually had quite a repertoire of conversation he could pull out when chit chatting with members of Society. At the moment though, he did not feel like it.

  The silence was suddenly broken by a ferocious shout coming from a clump of tree
s to their left as they made their way toward the pond.

  “Damnation Martin!” shouted the very loud, very female voice. “I told you not to let it go.”

  Edward and Tom both stopped walking and stared in amazement. For as much as the voice was loud and swearing like a sailor, it was also very much the cultured voice of a lady.

  Another scream rent the air followed by the shout of a young boy and suddenly a kite, being carried by the stiff summer breeze floated out from the trees and right over the lake, getting tangled in the up-stretched arm of one of the statues flanking the pond.

  So intent was Edward on the progress of the kite, and on seeing who on earth was making such a racket, that he paid little attention to whatever Lady Caroline was currently mumbling. However, he distinctly heard the words ‘warned’, ‘begged’ and, rather ominously, ‘murder’.

  Moments after the kite got itself good and tangled, the trees rustled alarmingly and a young lady burst through onto the path at a dead run.

  Though she was moving far too quickly for anything identifiable to be established, she was trailed by a shock of chestnut hair flying out behind her. She came to a screeching halt at the foot of the statue and, shielding her eyes from the sun, peered up at it.

  The trio was not close enough to see her expression but they were definitely close enough to hear another unladylike word spew from her mouth before she hitched her skirts and began to climb the statue!

  Edward and Tom shared a look of pure shock. Lady Caroline had, at this point, buried her face in her hands.

  None of them moved to help the young lady. And she did not even glance their way. She leaned precariously and stretched her hand upwards to try and untangle the string of the kite, the tail of which was still trailing along the ground.

  Edward, in the midst of the commotion, could not help but notice that she had the body of a goddess. Shorter than the woman beside him, her heavenly curves were very well outlined by the material straining against her body as she reached. Suddenly he found his mouth had gone unaccountably dry.

  Her hair was magnificent and he found himself struck with an intense desire to see her face. If it matched the rest of her, he could honestly believe he was in the presence of a goddess or perhaps one of the faery folk these lands were so famous for.