Chapter 20
Aunt Eloise hurried along the footpath ahead of them, as though she were intent on giving them some privacy yet remaining within earshot.
Likely to interject at any opportune moment.
Lord Charles walked next to her in amicable silence as they headed into the vibrant gardens, the afternoon breeze lifting the hair off her sticky neck. A welcome reprieve.
A flapping overhead caught her attention. She glanced up in time to see the raven wing through the air ahead of them. Neither Lord Charles nor her aunt noticed it, yet.
“It’s quite the estate, Miss Ravenwood. Though I daresay it needs a strong hand to restore it. Perhaps two?” He gave her a sideways look, one corner of his mouth lifted in a half-grin.
She knew where this was going and she didn’t like it. She needed to head him off before he started proposing marriage. “The manor’s bones are indeed strong, but I’d rather not tear it down just to make it fashionable.”
He paused at a hedgerow, admiring the impeccable trimming. “I have a keen interest in architecture. Especially these old country houses. They simply don’t build them like this anymore. But with the right investment, Ravenfell could shine again.”
She didn’t like his prodding, but tried to maintain her composure. She clasped her hands. Before she could respond, Aunt Eloise spoke.
“Isn’t it romantic? An old manor, a lady, and a willing suitor. One could write a novel!” She grinned, proud of herself as she paused to sniff a rose.
It took everything within Victoria not to roll her eyes and groan. Lord Charles seemed to take it all in stride.
“I must confess, you aren’t what I expected at all,” he said.
“Oh? And what is that?” she asked, trying hard not to be offended.
“More timid, I suppose. But you don’t seem fearful of a bit of mystery, do you? And this place holds quite a lot of it.” He glanced up at the imposing structure of the house behind her.
She forced a smile. “Mystery is part of the charm, isn’t it? But I’ve found some doors are better left unopened.”
He chuckled at that, as though she were making a jest. He continued his pressuring ways. “You know, with some funding and the right masons, this could be something extraordinary again. I could put you in touch with my architect.”
“That won’t be necessary.” She kept the tight smile on her face as she shifted from one foot to the other. Would he never give up?
“I only mean to help. Your aunt tells me you’re quite independent, but independence doesn’t mean solitude. A partnership can be quite fortuitous.”
No, he wasn’t going to give up.
Before she could bite out a retort, Aunt Eloise said, “Isn’t he thoughtful, dear? He’s simply brimming with ideas for the manor. Imagine it! Ballrooms, dinner parties, guests. Maybe even a wedding.” She looked positively pleased at the very idea of planning a wedding.
Victoria suppressed the groan as her stomach clenched with unease. This was all about pushing them together and perhaps him getting his hands on the manor. The surprise visit. His invasive offers of help. Pushy, pushy, pushy.
The raven dove from the sky, squawking as it landed on a nearby tree limb. She started walking again, trying to ignore it. But even so, chills danced up her spine at the significant presence of the bird.
Aunt Eloise had continued down the path toward the hydrangeas. Lord Charles fell in step next to her.
“I apologize if I made you uncomfortable,” he said then, his voice low so her aunt could not overhear.
“I’m afraid my aunt has rather high expectations for me.” She gave him a weak smile. “I do enjoy my solitude, despite what you may think or my aunt told you. And, truthfully, the manor doesn’t like strangers.”
It was a lie, but a kind one. If she were being honest, she’d say she liked her solitude with Gabriel, who was now furious with her. How she was ever going to mend the relationship with him, she didn’t know.
That seemed to interest Lord Charles. He cocked his head to one side and cast a glance at her. “Do you mean to tell me it sulks when someone tries to fix its roof or freshen the paint?”
A sudden chill prickled the air. She stopped walking and looked up. The raven had flapped to another limb ahead of them and cawed.
“Oh! Ghastly thing. Must be some local omen. You don’t believe in such nonsense, do you, Lord Charles?”
“No, madam, I don’t.”
“I do,” Victoria whispered. Because she’d seen what happened in the manor firsthand when Lenore was upset.
“What a glare it’s giving us,” Lord Charles said, sounding amused. “As though I’ve trespassed on sacred ground.”
“Perhaps you have,” Victoria replied, tersely.
“Are you telling me this manor has a guardian with wings?” He chuckled.
“It’s a warning,” Victoria said.
“Oh, Victoria, honestly! Next you’ll say it speaks in riddles,” Aunt Eloise said with a laugh.
Nevermore.
The whispered word whistled through the trees. A sudden fog churned around their ankles. And Victoria knew it was time to return inside the manor. The raven let out a harsh croak before fluttering to another nearby branch.
“I should have brought breadcrumbs. I seemed to have offended your guardian,” he said with a laugh.
He didn’t know the half of it. Victoria turned back the way they came. “Perhaps we should go inside. I’m sure luncheon is ready to be served.”
She needed to usher them off the path and quickly, before something dreadful happened. She thought of the shattered greenhouse and the hiding gravestones and needed out of this garden.
“Perhaps you’re right,” Lord Charles said.
“Yes,” Aunt Eloise added. “I’m quite famished.”
As they walked back to the manor, though, dread coiled low and hot in Victoria’s gut.
Once inside, she led them to the dining room where Gabriel had already set the table.
The rattling of dishes in the kitchen was the only indication he was nearby.
Lord Charles held her chair for her, then her aunt, then took the seat opposite them.
Aunt Eloise examined the room with a critical eye. Victoria braced herself.
“I forgot how charming this room is. The last time I was here was at a dinner party your parents hosted,” she said, placing her napkin in her lap. “Could use a renovation though. It feels ghastly archaic.”
Victoria ignored the barb and focused on something the woman said. Her aunt had never mentioned being here before. “I didn’t realize you’d visited.”
“You lived here before?” Lord Charles asked.
“Yes, when I was a child,” she replied.
At that moment, Gabriel entered to serve the soup—parsnip and thyme in porcelain bowls garnished with a drizzle of spiced oil and black pepper. He left a loaf of rustic brown bread in the center and disappeared to the kitchen without a word.
Victoria had tried to catch his gaze, but he avoided her like she had the plague. She picked up the soup spoon.
“I hadn’t realized you lived here before,” Lord Charles said. “What was that like?”
There was nothing she wanted to share with him about that experience. He wouldn’t understand she saw Gabriel lurking through the west wing, or the ghastly apparition of the little girl she now knew was his daughter.
“It was a long time ago, my lord, and I was very young. I’m afraid I don’t remember much,” she replied.
But Aunt Eloise couldn’t wait to add her thoughts.
“Her father was a foreign envoy to the crown. Always traveling abroad. Diplomatic dinners, extravagant galas, and the like. Why, my poor sister barely had time to unpack her trunks before they were off again! Of course, this was after they’d left Ravenfell.
Before that, they spent several years here shortly after Victoria was born.
That’s when Eleanor started planting her garden. ”
Victoria stiffened at the way she spewed the information as though it were nothing more than common knowledge.
“I believe my father knew yours, Miss Ravenwood,” Lord Charles said.
“Oh?” The word came out on a breath as she sat, frozen. Her stomach clenched tight. Her appetite gone.
“Your father was quite the statesman, you know. My father spoke very highly of him. He often said how he had a knack for turning enemies into allies with nothing more than a vintage glass of port.” He dabbed the corners of his mouth with the napkin before pushing away the soup bowl.
“He never talked about his work,” she said.
Gabriel entered then to clear away the dishes and place the next course.
Poached pheasant in a red wine reduction with roasted root vegetables.
As he placed it in front of her, she peered up at him in the hopes she would catch his gaze.
But no. He turned away immediately and placed a plate in front her aunt, then moved to the earl.
The way he ignored her cut her to the bone.
She picked up her fork and started to dive in when it struck her how the dark sauce pooled like blood on the plate. She put down her fork, her stomach queasy.
Lord Charles continued as though there was no interruption. “He was discreet, of course. All good diplomats are. My father admired him. Called him a gentleman of rare conviction.”
But was he? It suddenly struck her as she sat there listening to Lord Charles ramble on about her father that he was the one who was interested in Lenore Blackmore.
She recalled the letter she found in the study urging him caution in the investigation, which made her wonder if he knew about the death of the woman and the child in the manor and he was looking for answers.
Just like she was.
How was it, though, he never knew Gabriel skulked along the halls?
“I wish I’d known him better,” she said faintly.
“There was talk he turned down a peerage. Said he was better suited serving than ruling. My father couldn’t fathom it and tried to urge him to accept. He never did,” he continued, slicing through the meat.
“Whatever happened to your father?” she asked.
“Died of consumption,” he said. “Just last winter.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Well, I think that’s enough of this dark talk,” her aunt announced. How she remained silent through the entire exchange was a mystery.
Lord Charles sat back in his chair and gazed at her from across the table, a look of contemplation on his face. “Something just occurred to me. My father mentioned to me yours was looking into an unexplained death. Said her name was Lenore Blackmore.”
Victoria’s mouth went dry.
“Is that name familiar to you?” he asked.
Before she answered the chandelier over the table flickered. Then swung violently as though someone pushed it. The chain creaked with the sudden movement.
Victoria jumped back from the table, her chair scraping along the floor.
She stared up at it, stomach lurching. A penetrating cold threaded through the silence, cloaking them in unease.
And she knew then, Lenore had arrived. Or perhaps she had been here all along, listening to their conversation.
She struck the moment she heard her name.
“Odd, that,” her aunt said gazing up at the chandelier. As though it was insignificant.
Lord Charles’ gaze was firmly planted on the ceiling, watching it swing back and forth.
Victoria was about to excuse herself to the kitchen to fetch Gabriel, when her plate lifted from the table and flew straight for her.
She gasped and ducked as it sailed over her head and then shattered against the wall.
Aunt Eloise shrieked as she shoved from the table and stumbled away.
Lord Charles was on his feet, clutching the napkin in his white-knuckled hand.
Seconds later, Gabriel burst into the dining room. Face pale. Eyes wide. Their gazes locked for a brief moment as Victoria rose on shaky legs. Then he stepped toward the shattered plate on the floor.
He didn’t need to ask what happened. He knew. So did she.
“My word, what the devil was that for?” her aunt said. “Victoria, if you don’t want to discuss your father anymore, simply say so.”
Clearly, her aunt didn’t understand the calamity of the situation. She clutched her elbows, hugging her arms tight.
“I apologize if I’ve upset you,” Lord Charles said.
But words were not forthcoming. Behind her, Gabriel crouched and picked up the largest pieces.
She turned toward him as he rose to his full height and their eyes collided once again.
There were so many things she wanted to say and couldn’t.
Not in present company. His jaw was locked tight for a brief moment until finally his gaze softened.
“It’s all right,” he said, his voice low.
And then he disappeared back to the kitchen.
But it wasn’t all right.
“Eloise, perhaps we should be going,” Lord Charles announced then. He rounded the end of the table and took her by the arm.
Aunt Eloise’s gaze flicked from him to Victoria. She gave a nod. “Perhaps you’re right. My goodness, it’s cold in here.”
But as they passed out of the dining room, Victoria caught a glimpse of Lord Charles’ grim expression. As though he suspected what had happened but said nothing.
The moment they were out of the room, the chandelier stilled.
A warning.
And then Lenore was gone.