Chapter 28
The Earl
Rosecrest Estate
They say time heals all wounds, but when one is grieving, time seems to stop.
The next few weeks were a melancholy blur as Papa was laid to rest, and Clara and Mother learned to function without him.
The village helped in many ways, providing visits and flowers, and even ushering in the earl’s body with a candlelit vigil.
Faversham residents had lined both sides of the road leading up to the estate, holding glowing lanterns and bowing as their leader rolled past. The house was draped in black as was tradition with the death of a family member.
All clothing, drapes, and linens were switched out for the dark pieces.
It dampened, even more so, the mood of the household.
Clara spent a great deal of time sitting on her little bed in the old nursery, imagining her Papa knocking on her door.
“ClaraBear, ClaraBear, are you in there?” She could nearly hear him say.
At times, she almost wished she had loved him less, so the loss would not seem so great.
Lady Merritt was doing better than her daughter.
She turned to others to help in her time of grief, but Clara just wanted to be alone, to wallow in dark places, and convince herself there was no way she could be happy again.
Two weeks after the earl’s death, Everett Merritt showed up.
He had only recently been set free, and was presumptuous enough to think the Merritts would welcome him with open arms. “I hear you are without a protector!” he explained to the countess.
“I will stay and care for the household! It is my duty, seeing John is away.” He looked much older than he had on their last encounter, perhaps it was the greedy look in his eyes, or the unruly mustache he now sported. Either way, the man looked sinister.
“Lord Merritt shall be here shortly,” Mother responded with fire in her blue eyes.
“You are not needed here.” But legally, neither Clara nor Mother had the power to keep him away.
If John was unreachable, Mr. Merritt truly was the one in charge of protecting the family.
It seemed a cruel act of fate. Mother suggested Clara go to a friend’s house until John sent the cousin away, but it was not deemed acceptable during the mourning period, nor did she want to leave.
Rather than fight the matter, Mother assigned a burly footman to act as a temporary bodyguard.
Clara missed her knight.
Even with the added precautions, Everett found ways to hint they should be together, leaving her little notes, or whispering words as they passed each other in hallways.
“John is probably at the bottom of the ocean.” “It is what your father would have wanted.” “Matt is dead; John is missing. Fate has brought us together.”
But Clara was not eighteen anymore. She knew Everett’s cruelness, and even in her vulnerable state, she was not open to his advances. She probably would have been afraid of him, if her emotions were not so wrapped up in her grief. What if he ruins my reputation? Who cares? Who cares about anything?
Mother had moved out of the countess’s suite as the master’s chamber was prepared for John.
To safeguard Clara’s reputation even further, she decided to take the room that adjoined her daughter’s.
The chamber was intended for the girl’s husband, not mother, but there was something comforting about not sleeping alone.
They kept their connecting door propped open, and sometimes even spoke to each other as they dressed.
What started as added protection from the criminal cousin, quickly became one of the only things that kept Clara sane.
She needed her Mother’s strong example. If Mother could get out of bed, Clara would find a way to get up as well.
The two women motivated each other to keep living.
That did not mean their burden was lifted.
Deep, painful emotions still bubbled to the surface at unexpected times.
“Your Papa would not want to see you like this,” Mother had whispered one night as Clara had found herself in a fit of tears.
“You are allowed to grieve, but you must take care of yourself. He wouldn’t want you to suffer.
” She had promised her father she would be happy, but what was there to be happy about?
Life had lost all meaning. She had once said that loving people was her purpose, but what was the point in loving if it hurt this much to lose someone?
It seemed better to not love at all. So Clara shut the world out.
She sat and stared out black-draped windows, wishing for days already past. She longed to be young, and naive, and in the arms of her beloved Papa as he swung her around the garden, kissing her cheek, expressing his love, and racing her back to the house.
That is all she wanted, just to be held and feel that warm, safe feeling again.
To be transported back to when she believed the world was a joyous place.
The Shores of Kent, England
“Land!” John yelled, running from the gangway. “Beautiful, lovely, English land!”
“Oh, please do not kiss it!” Luke hollered back, but it was too late. John had already stuck his lips to the sand. “Yuck!”
“It is good to be back!” John spun in a circle, looking out across the sandy shoreline. “And just a few hours from home.”
“Your home,” Luke whispered under his breath. It would take several days to reach Harleston.
The crew began unpacking the ship, and John and Luke chatted about their travel plans as they waited for the luggage—and horse—to be unloaded.
After a moment, a weathered-looking man ran toward them across the sandy beach.
He had the tanned look of a long-distance messenger, and as he neared, Luke recognized him as Jimmy, Lord Merritt’s main mail carrier.
“My lord, urgent notice!” the messenger said, holding out an envelope.
Lord Maxwell reached for it, but the man pulled the note back with a shake of his head.
“It is for the earl,” he answered, extending the message closer to John.
“The earl?” John whispered, his confusion freezing him in place.
It felt as if a large weight had been placed on Luke’s chest. It made it difficult to breathe. “What has happened?” he whispered back. The messenger simply gestured to the letter until John took it.
“I cannot read it,” John whispered tremulously. His face was pale, and the letter shook visibly in his hand. Luke walked his friend over to a wooden crate that had just been taken off the ship. Forcing John to sit, he took the letter from him.
It was a short message. Dry. But of utter importance.
“Your father is dead. Clara is unwed, and Everett is at Rosecrest.” Each statement brought with it an entirely different emotion.
Lord Merritt, dead? It was shocking and devastating.
Clara not married to the duke? Luke tried to ignore the slight glimmer of hope the news caused him.
What was the story there? He did not dwell on it.
It was not an appropriate time to be thinking of Clara, at least, not in that way.
It was the news of Everett that kicked both men into action. Neither of them liked the idea of him being unsupervised. “My horse!” John yelled back up to the sailors unloading the cargo. “Quickly, bring my horse!”
“Do you require my assistance, Lord Merritt?” Jimmy asked from his place in the sand. The men had forgotten entirely about his presence.
Both John and Luke looked around, as if they expected the earl to answer.
But of course, John's father was not there.
John was Lord Merritt now. All at once, the mantle of the earlship seemed to fall on him.
His back straightened, his eyes hardened, and his tone was subdued as he responded, “Send word to Rosecrest that I am coming as quickly as I possibly can.” The man nodded, then ran across the sand once more.
For one brief moment, John let his shoulders sag, “Papa is dead,” he whispered.
Before Luke could attempt comforting him, the clip-clop of horse hooves reached their ears. “Gots y’er horse ‘ight here!” the sailor called out, leading Lightning down the gangway.
In a daze, John reached for the reins. “I hope you are ready to run, girl,” he whispered as he mounted. The mare was young, and much smaller than Nimbus, but she had a great deal of cooped up energy. She would do well for the quick journey.
“I doubt your mother will complain about you bringing home a horse!” Luke called up to him, trying to add some humor to the difficult situation, but it did not help.
“Go! I will bring your things and meet you at Rosecrest.” John nodded as he kicked the horse into motion.
While they had kept their feelings at bay long enough to form a plan, tears streamed down the faces of both men as the new earl rode away.
The messenger informing of John’s arrival reached Rosecrest just a few minutes before the earl did. It did not give the servants sufficient time to line up outside the front door and welcome in their new master. It did, however, give Mother and Clara enough notice to greet him at the foyer.
“John!” Mother yelled, pulling her son into a long embrace. “Oh, John, I am so glad you are safe.”
“How are you faring, Mother?” he whispered into her hair. John’s usual playfulness was gone. His voice held only sympathy and seriousness.
“Well enough,” the countess whispered. “I am sure things will be better now that you are here.”
“Luke should be here soon,” John informed as the embrace ended. “He stayed behind for the luggage.”
Clara expected to be filled with dread having to interact with the man she rejected, but she had slowly learned to close off her heart. Becoming numb was the only way to dull the pain.
“Clara.” John’s voice was full of pity as he pulled his sister into an embrace. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, it felt almost as if her father was the one with his arms wrapped around her.