Chapter 19 #2
… I have uncovered absolute evidence that Marcus has, indeed, been embezzling from the Wellwood estate. Not only once or twice, but on an industrial scale, which will utterly destroy the family and its good name, should it be permitted to continue …
Alexander turned the page.
… A man I shall not name bears witness to an overheard conversation between Marcus and his father only days before the murder.
A confrontation. Whilst I am not privy to details, the suggestion is that my uncle had become aware of Marcus’s dealings with unsavoury characters and was questioning discrepancies in the Wellwood accounts …
The final entry read:
… I am fully convinced now of my cousin, Marcus’s, involvement in the murder of the Earl of Wellwood.
I believe that my uncle confronted Marcus regarding the disappearance of money from the estate accounts, and Marcus retaliated with violence that would silence his father’s suspicions forever.
My heart is heavy for what this means for our family, but I have invited Marcus to visit me later today for a frank discussion. It is my hope that he will confess …
Alexander's hands began to shake at the realization this was the last entry Edmund wrote, and the captain’s suggestion that Edmund was poisoned by an educated, wealthy individual aligned too perfectly with this new knowledge that Marcus was due to visit Edmund that same afternoon he died.
He and Arabella stared at one another in shock and fear. This revelation was enormous and quite categorically implicated Marcus as the killer.
Arabella watched Alexander’s face as his world crumbled.
The younger brother he had nurtured and adored.
The boy he had always guided and supported, made excuses for, and elevated at every opportunity.
This young man had grown not only into a liar, thief, and manipulator, but had killed his own father and cousin! It seemed impossible to fathom.
Arabella shifted closer towards Alexander—their proximity had already been close as they bent low over the journal to read, but Arabella needed now to comfort him.
Gone were her reservations about socially acceptable distance and maintaining a facade of sternness, punishing Alexander for his desertion.
In front of her now was this man she had loved—still loved— and his heart was breaking.
All he had believed in and poured his love and loyalty into had been false.
Arabella lifted her arms to embrace him in comfort, and as she lay her head on his shoulder, she could feel his body quiver with the cocktail of emotions pulsing through him.
She drew back slightly to ask him what they should do about this terrible predicament, but before she drew breath to speak, Alexander’s hands let go of the journal, which sat in his lap.
His warm palms came to rest on her face, delicately cupping her cold, pale cheeks. He brought her face closer to his, and his eyes dropped to her lips with a yearning that the surge in her heart matched.
In desperation for the only dependable element left in his life, Alexander crushed his lips to Arabella’s.
She fell into him, succumbing to the embrace she had hungered for over so many years.
As they kissed, Arabella’s eyes wept with relief to be back in his arms and with fresh grief at the obstacles they now faced.
As they pulled apart, Alexander smudged his thumb over her soft skin where a tear had fallen and smiled sadly at her.
“Everything is utterly disastrous,” he told her in a defeated whisper.
“But at least we can face it together,” she assured him.
They leaned their foreheads together and both closed their eyes in a moment of solidarity and bittersweet reunion.
***
Daybreak had crept up, unannounced, and—being so immersed in the revelations of the journal and the emotions it had provoked—neither of them had noticed.
They sat on the dusty floor, huddled together, Alexander’s arms cradling Arabella as his mind raced.
They suddenly heard a chaotic racket of clattering and footsteps. Arabella instantly recognized the sounds as Marcus moving around the house; he never did so quietly. By the noise of his movement, he was charging down the stairs at an excitable rate, and they heard his calls.
“Good morning, household! What a beautiful morning it is! We must all arise and wake to face the day! Come, come!”
Alexander frowned as he listened, and Arabella realized that he was not accustomed, as she was, to the erratic enthusiasm of Marcus’s disordered conduct.
A myriad of emotions crossed Alexander’s face, and Arabella watched him as he first reacted with a semblance of hope and warm familiarity at hearing his younger brother’s voice for the first time in years.
This was rapidly followed by a frown of confusion at his agitated tone. Sadness and pity set in and then were replaced by a stern, fixed, serious grimace, and Arabella could guess at the thoughts of contempt with which Alexander must now consider his brother.
Arabella squeezed his hand to demonstrate that she was there for him throughout this harrowing circumstance.
“Mother! Mother!” Marcus’s strangled voice rang out, echoing down the halls of the house.
Alexander’s eyes darted to Arabella’s, and they shifted apart, recognizing their now precarious position, needing Alexander to escape back to invisibility without being noticed by anybody.
Before Arabella stood, Alexander clutched her hand more tightly, brought his face close to hers, and urgently whispered:
“My brother, whom I love …”
Arabella blinked at him.
“I have to stop him, don’t I?”
Arabella nodded sadly and kissed him once more, knowing that their lives were about to change all over again.