Chapter One #2
Mid-morning of the following day, a gruesome discovery was made at the large lake bordering the edge of the property.
Muddy horse prints and torn-up grass led to the possible explanation that Emmeline had been thrown from her horse and accidently landed in the lake.
There was no sign she had emerged from the water.
For three weeks the reed-choked waters were dragged.
Emmeline’s riding hat, handkerchief, and left riding glove were recovered, giving further credence to the theory that she had somehow fallen into the lake and drowned.
Because of the unusual depth of the water and the presence of thick, choking reeds, the local constable finally concluded the countess’s body had been claimed by the depths of the lake and would forever remain on the bottom of its murky floor.
Damien adamantly refused to acknowledge Emmeline’s death.
After a few weeks, Emmeline’s brother, Lord Poole, insisted on conducting a funeral service for his dead sister in the village church, but Damien would not attend, nor did he permit his two young children to be present.
The earl’s behavior infuriated Lord Poole, and he took it upon himself to spread all kinds of nasty rumors about the earl, hoping to discredit him in society’s eye.
Damien considered Lord Poole’s actions merely a nuisance, having little interest in the activities of the ton.
He was more concerned over the fate of his missing wife.
Over the next two years, Damien’s search for Emmeline yielded nothing, and yet, although he had no evidence to substantiate his claim, the earl still clung stubbornly to the belief that his wife was alive.
“Almost from the first Emmeline was displeased with our marriage,” Damien said reflectively, remembering with distaste his hasty courtship and wedding. “I know I am to blame for the coldness of our relationship. Emmeline told me often enough how unhappy I made her.”
“As I recall, she did her fair share of spreading unhappiness,” Jenkins insisted.
“Perhaps.” The earl shifted in his chair, stretching out his long legs. “Emmeline craved excitement and romance. She longed for a grand passion. She told me once that she wanted an adoring husband, someone to spoil and cosset her. I am afraid I fell far short of the mark.”
Jenkins heard the edge of self-loathing in the earl’s voice and instantly responded. “You did not marry Emmeline because you loved her, Damien.”
“No, Jenkins,” the earl confessed softly. “I married Emmeline for her fortune. And she came to despise me because of it. Yet she knew of my motivation before we were wed. I never made a secret of my need for her money.”
“You had to marry an heiress. It was the only choice left to save The Grange,” Jenkins declared. “It certainly was a shock for both of us coming back from the war and finding your father had lost nearly everything.”
Damien nodded in solemn reminder. “Poor Father. He had an endless streak of bad luck while we were fighting in the Peninsula. It was an almost unbelievable combination of several years of crop failure, falling agricultural prices, unwise investments, and lavish spending habits. At the time of his death, he was on the very brink of financial ruin. Emmeline’s—or more specifically her brother’s—money saved The Grange, Jenkins. ”
The valet took a long swallow of his drink. “Their money helped, Damien,” Jenkins insisted. “But it’s your hard work that has saved The Grange from complete ruin.”
Damien modestly knew his servant spoke the truth.
He had worked tirelessly to reduce the mortgages and repay the piles of debts his father had incurred before his death.
Saving The Grange from the creditors had become an obsession for the earl.
Still, Damien often wondered if the personal sacrifice he’d made had been too high a price.
“I’ve never been able to determine precisely why she married me, Jenkins,” Damien continued.
“With her looks and fortune, she could had her pick of young bucks of the beau monde. I have come to believe her brother forced Emmeline into accepting my suit, but I cannot think of one single reason Poole would do such a thing.”
“I always suspected Lord Poole had his eye on The Grange,” Jenkins interjected, warming to the subject. He finished his glass and held it out for the earl to replenish.
“Naturally, I feel The Grange is an exceptional estate,” Damien answered as he poured out the brandy. “But there are many other choice pieces of real estate in Harrowgate. Poole is a rich man. He could have bought any number of estates that are far greater in value. There has to be another reason.”
“Perhaps,” Jenkins ventured, “but I doubt we will ever discover what it was.”
The room fell to silence as both men contemplated the idea. A soft knock on the door broke their concentration.
“I believe that will be young Manning with the rest of the brandy,” Jenkins remarked to the earl. “I told him to bring up the remaining stock from the wine cellar. I had a premonition you would attempt to consume it all tonight.”
“You know me too well, Jenkins.” The earl flashed a genuine smile. “When do we have to vacate the house?”
“I informed your solicitor that we would be gone by noon tomorrow.”
“Have you gotten all the staff settled?”
“Just as you requested,” Jenkins responded. He opened the drawing room doors and accepted three bottles of brandy from the footman. Then he quietly shut the door. “Those servants who were not offered positions with the new owners have all been offered jobs at The Grange.”
“Good.” The earl rose from his chair and stretched. “I don’t suppose any of the housemaids will be accompanying us?”
Jenkins shook his head. “Lord Poole’s lies about your reputation are taken very seriously in London. The only reason we were able to keep any female staff at this house was because you came to town so rarely.”
“It doesn’t matter,” the earl insisted, hearing the trace of bitterness in Jenkins’s voice.
The valet’s unwavering loyalty could still move the earl, even after all their years together.
“Since you have completed your duties so admirably, Jenkins, I was hoping you would keep me company for the remainder of the evening.”
Jenkins smiled regretfully, knowing it would be useless trying to talk the earl out of his plans.
Selling the London town house had been a very difficult decision for Damien.
And if he was determined to spend the rest of the evening drinking himself into a stupor, no one was going to be able to dissuade him.
Lord knew the man had been through enough in the past few days.
“I shall endeavor to keep pace with you, my lord,” Jenkins responded soberly. “I cannot, however, guarantee how long I will remain on my feet.”