Chapter 23
Lavinia was restless throughout the night. She raked a brush through her hair come morning, attempting to detangle the knots caused by her excursion the day before. It was incredible how flowers and twigs could latch into a lady’s hair when she was leaving in a fit of anger.
As she pulled out another birch leaf from her hair, she glanced toward her wardrobe. Under her dresses, and behind the shoes, lay a box. One she had not looked at in some time. She rose and walked over toward it.
The box held letters. Medical reports. Testimony from the staff.
All of it was proof that she did not kill her husband.
Proof that she had left to rot because when she had attempted to bring it to life before, her voice had been drowned out by the screaming voices of gossip and rumors.
It had consumed too much energy to fight it at the time.
Instead, she had tried to prove her worth to the townspeople through her actions.
However, she knew that the duchy was no longer in her control. If she was to take control of her life again, she had limited time and resources. The documents might be her best chance to prove to the people who she was and clear her name for good.
As she rifled through the box, her mind drifted.
Her eyes scanned the familiar words she had read many times.
Her mind, however, was going back toward Roderick and Lord Casterleigh.
The lord especially was bothering her. Though he had been kind, attentive, and patient, something about that still felt wrong.
There was a gentleness to his personality that she could not quite trust.
Lavinia closed her eyes.
What does my unease matter? My instincts told me to trust the duke. He betrayed me.
She opened her eyes and looked down at the letters again.
Perhaps my instincts are not to be trusted right now. A man who unsettles me a little is likely safer than a man who makes me feel too much and then arranges my life behind my back.
She stood up slowly, taking the box into her arms.
“I can deal with my feelings later,” she murmured. “First, I need to deal with these documents.”
She took the box to her desk and spread the documents in front of her.
Her eyes traced over the shaky lettering of the old duke’s handwriting.
She noticed how his words seemed to be written with trembling hands.
She recalled the way he would direct her father to visit only on days when he was not visiting the local physician.
The way that she and her father had been turned away by Mr. Thornbury, the duke’s old valet.
When the duke died, Mr. Thornbury had left. The only man who had known the duke’s secrets could not be in the house without him. She knew he blamed her. Picking up the physician’s notes and reading over the letters, she started to see what her stressed mind had not let her see before.
…the duke’s heart will not survive stress…
I am worried about my heart…
…I have once again been plagued by chest pains…
With my heart declining…
…His Grace needs desperately to survive his wedding…
“A heart condition?” she murmured . Even the writing on the quarterly documents was shaky. The old duke was still trying to perform his duties with a heart that seemed to be actively failing him.
Lavinia frowned. Taking a deep breath, she tried to remember the night of her wedding. The way he had lunged at her. The way he cried out. The way he had gripped his heart as he had stumbled backward.
“It was most likely a seizure of the heart.”
“Did he complain of pains before this evening? Did he drink or eat anything unusual with his supper?”
“These things can happen suddenly with men of his constitution. Still, I confess I find the manner of it a touch… irregular.”
“Had the physician known?” she mumbled aloud. She started chewing the inside of her cheek. As much as she did not wish to think that could have been the case, she had no proof of it otherwise.
I need more information.
She put the documents away and returned to brushing her hair. If she was to get through the day without any more comments from the men in the house, she would need to look presentable.
Breakfast was a miserable affair. Lavinia’s father was speaking ad nauseam about estate affairs that, in truth, Lavinia could no longer bring herself to care about.
She reached for a fig and started to cut the fruit.
Cecily watched her, a nervous expression on her face.
The duke looked over once, before looking back at her father.
Lavinia had no interest in returning his gaze.
The air was thick with tension and unease. Lord Fenwick was acting as if it was not there, even though nobody else was able to do so.
As Lavinia finished her last piece of fruit, she stabbed into it with her fork, causing Cecily to startle. Lavinia ate it slowly, dabbing the dark juice from around her mouth before standing.
“I think will go out today; I will be back later,” she sighed.
“I am coming with you,” Cecily said, racing after her as they left the dining room. “I cannot stand to be with them in there a moment longer…”
“I understand,” Lavinia said, pulling Cecily close as they made their way to the carriage.
“Where are we going?” Cecily asked as they settled inside.
“We are going to talk to someone about the late duke…”
***
“So, let me understand,” Temperance said as they walked from her home and back into the carriage. “You believe speaking to this man will help you undo the rumors that have been spread about you?”
“I believe so,” Lavinia said.
“I do not know this is wise,” Honora chimed in, wringing her hands.
“It is not,” Temperance huffed. “Lavinia, you are being foolish.”
“Not foolish,” Lavinia said. “Inquisitive.”
“Please be sensible,” Temperance scoffed.
“No,” Lavinia said. “Being sensible has put me into undesirable circumstances. It is time to act.”
“And what if this man wishes to hurt you?” Temperance asked. “I do not know him, we have not informed anyone as to where we are going; could we be in danger?”
“He was already of considerable age when I last met him, and he will not have gotten any younger or stronger in the meantime,” Lavinia said.
“But, Lavinia, he could still be unpleasant…” Honora said meekly. “And I do not wish any more rumors to circulate about you because of this.”
“I think we should listen to Lavinia,” Cecily said. The other two women turned to her. “Lavinia has the best grasp of the situation. If my sister wishes to go and speak to this man, then I am going to trust her. You are free to stay in the carriage when we go inside.”
“Cecily, do not tell me that you have fallen into this hysteria too?” Temperance asked.
“Not hysteria,” Cecily said. “But I do trust my sister. Where she goes, I go.”
Lavinia gave Cecily a grateful smile.
***
The carriage slowly came to a stop at the edge of the village.
Lavinia looked out the window and saw a modest cottage, with a small herb garden out front.
A woman stood outside the door, looking up as the carriage arrived..
She seemed to be perhaps fifty-five, or thereabouts, her skin sallow and sunken.
Lavinia stepped out first, followed by Cecily.
Temperance sighed and stepped out with them.
“Temperance?” Honora whispered.
“If our friend is determined to be foolish, I suppose it is up to us to make sure she does not hurt herself doing so,” Temperance said.
“I…” Honora started, looking nervously outside, before following Temperance. “I suppose so.”
The four ladies approached the woman carefully..
“Your Grace,” the woman said, curtsying slightly. “To what do we owe the pleasure of a visit?”
“I am looking for a Mr. Thornbury,” Lavinia said. “Am I correct in believing he lives here?”
“You are,” the woman said. “He is my brother.”
“You live with your brother?” Temperance asked.
“Since the death of my husband, yes,” the woman nodded. Lavinia glared slightly at Temperance, who looked properly chastised.
“Is he home?” Lavinia asked.
“He is,” the woman nodded. “But I would ask that the visit not be long. He is unwell.”
“May I ask what ails him?” Lavinia asked. “I can have my maids send some herbs or—”
“That is a lovely thought, Your Grace,” the woman replied. “But unfortunately, it is heart troubles. They seem to be the same ones that troubled his late master.”
“I see,” Lavinia said softly. “I promise, I am not here to demand anything of him. I wish to ask him questions about his former master.”
The woman hesitated and glanced toward the door. She took a deep breath and nodded.
“Come, but remember, it is just for a short while.” She led them all through the door.
The inside of the cottage was small. There was one room for the hearth and the kitchen, and a slightly open door that led toward two bedrooms. Mr. Thornbury was in his bed, the white sheets smooth over his body, the air smelling of herbs and medication.
Lavinia took in his slight frame and his graying hair.
He was thinner than she remembered. His eyes opened slowly as he looked up at her.
“Your Grace,” he said, fatigued. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I am sorry to disturb you,” she said gently. “I am here because I need answers. I will demand nothing of you but the truth of my late husband’s health. Please.”
“I do not wish to speak of such things,” the older man sighed.
“Please,” Lavinia whispered.
“I—”
“Brother,” his sister said softly. “This has been waying on you. Perhaps it would help your own heart to speak about what happened.”
Mr. Thornbury hesitated, nodding slightly, and took a long breath that seemed to use all the energy he had.
“ “I served the duke for twenty years. I was loyal to him. Fiercely so. When he died… In truth, I blamed you,” he explained before looking out the window.