Chapter 28 #2
John was not necessarily the same build as Father had been. So why did he feel like him? She pulled him in a bit closer, and as her head pushed against his riding jacket, she knew the answer. “You smell like Papa,” Clara thought aloud.
Where usually John would have laughed, his words were emotionless. “I smell like a horse.”
“Yes.” Clara took a step backwards. “Yes, I suppose that is it.”
“John!” Everett’s slimy voice greeted from the floor above. “Good to see you, old chap.”
John did not bother with a greeting. “Pack your things and leave. If you are still here by the time I have changed for dinner, you will suffer severe consequences.”
“But-” Everett tried to make an excuse, but John had already walked away.
For some reason, Clara had expected things to change when John showed up.
He was known for making people laugh, so she thought he would bring a spark of hope to Rosecrest. But the man she had just seen was nothing like her older brother.
That is because you just caught a glimpse of the Earl of Faversham, her brain concluded. But Papa had never acted so stiffly.
Give it time, she reminded herself, John has only just learned the news.
In a way, Clara was jealous. She wished she too had been left in ignorance, for then, at least in her imagination, Papa would have had another month to live.
The wave of grief hit her again, knocking her into the stormy sea of sorrow.
The current was strong, and tossed her repeatedly under the water, leaving her gasping for air.
Mr. Merritt took John’s threat rather seriously, and was out within minutes.
As such, John decided to skip dinner and requested a tray in the study.
There was a lot of work to be done and things to be sorted.
Luke arrived several hours after dark, but the new Lord Merritt was still engrossed in paperwork.
“What can I do?” the baron asked as he joined him.
“The stack on the tea table is yours,” John responded without looking up from the piece of parchment in his hand.
John’s father had been tending to Luke’s barony during his absence, so it, too, had been neglected since his passing.
Both men had estate managers, but there were some things that could only be done by a landowner.
Luke looked through his stack of paper. It was much smaller than John’s, but still a great deal of information.
He would have to go back to Maxwell Manor soon and make sure everything was running smoothly.
He would stay to help John as long as possible, but he could not shirk his own duties forever.
The majority of the papers were outdated at this point, showing what the late earl had done before his passing.
An envelope at the bottom of the stack caught his attention.
“To My Son, Luke” it said on the front. He pulled the letter opener from John’s desk and sliced the seal. The note inside read:
Luke,
I am sorry to leave this world without giving you a proper goodbye, but I wish to make it clear that I have always loved you like a son.
You are an amazing and kind man, and an excellent provider and protector.
I do not know what your future holds, but I assure you I would have loved your wife with all my heart.
Care for her. Love her with all your strength, and remind her daily how important she is to you.
Never forget that I love you,
Papa
Such a heartfelt note brought Luke to tears, and it was in this sobby state that Clara entered the study. “I have come to say goodnight,” she addressed her brother, but then her eyes caught sight of Luke. “Oh, Luke you are here and you are … crying?” She remained in the doorway.
Finally, John looked up from his pile of work. “I am well,” Luke reassured them both. “I have been reading a note your father left for me.” John nodded emotionlessly, and dove his head back into his work.
Physically, Clara looked attractive in her black, floor-length dress, with long, narrow sleeves. But there was something different. She looked … broken. “Is there anything I can do for you, Lord Maxwell?” she asked, her eyes remaining fixed on the floor.
“Thank you, but no.” Luke wiped the tears off his cheeks. “Goodnight, Lady Clara.”
“Goodnight.” She stepped over to John, her eyes still glued to the ground. “Goodnight, John.”
“Goodnight,” he responded without looking at her. Not that Clara would have seen if he had.
She slid back to the door, her head drooping. She looked miserable, and Luke couldn’t bear seeing her in such a state. “Actually, Clara,” he called out, “I could use your help.” But he had not stopped to form a plan before he made the statement. What could he possibly need Clara’s help with?
“What can I do for you?” she asked as, frantically, Luke tried to think of something.
In an act of panic, he slid his hands behind his back and pulled a cufflink from its proper place, letting it slowly drop to the floor. “I seem to have misplaced my cufflink,” he responded, holding up his arm. “Will you help me search for it?”
So Luke and Clara got down on their hands and knees and looked for the missing piece of silver.
It did not take long before she found it.
“I will put it on for you,” she stated as they both stood back up.
Luke extended his arm, and Clara clasped the cufflink back into place.
It was surreal to have her so near, and yet, at the same time, it felt as if she were a million miles away.
The Clara he knew was bubbly, happy and full of light.
The woman who stood before him was deadpan and disimpassioned.
“Is there anything else?” her monotone voice asked.
“No. Thank you for your assistance.” Clara didn’t say anything else as she exited the room. His concern for her was increasing. “She does not seem to be taking this well,” Luke informed her brother, but John was too engrossed in his work to hear him.