Chapter 2
Lord Alaric Montfort, the Earl of Thornwyck, sat turned away from the breakfast table, his blank stare fixed out the window on the storm clouds that gathered thick and heavy in the morning sky.
The weather had been that way all morning, and all last evening for that matter.
It was a storm that promised chaos and destruction but refused to make good on that promise.
Rather, it waited patiently, a silent threat, one sure to come soon but that seemed to delight in the tension bubbling away as those beneath its darkness waited for the inevitable …
“You are still here.” He recognized his sister’s voice without having to turn around. Her footsteps crossed the breakfast room, the sound of a chair being pulled out, and then a deep sigh as she sat across from him.
“Ought I be someplace else?” he asked without looking back.
Lady Verity Montfort was five years younger than Alaric, but her strict nature and wry sense of purpose had always made her seem older.
She was confident, intelligent, and she did not suffer fools.
It made her a welcome presence in any household that required structure, even if she sometimes lacked the warmth required to make a house feel like a home.
“How did you sleep last night, Alaric?” she asked.
“Is that a serious question?”
“That bad?” She sighed, and Alaric knew that despite her rigidness, she was worried about him. “You ought to have told me. I might have had the staff make something to help you sleep.”
“I would not have taken it …” Still, Alaric watched the impending storm; the way the clouds swirled together was similar to those sensations that writhed in his stomach. “Such emotions as this ought not be avoided or cheated. That would be a dishonor to Honora.”
“So, she is who your thoughts are on?”
That had him turning sharply.
It was done with a hint of annoyance, as if his sister was implying some sense of wrongdoing. But when he turned, he saw the compassion on his sister’s face, and he realized that she did not mean anything by what she said.
“I did not expect it,” he admitted. “When I saw her the previous evening, she was tired, and a little worn through. But to die so suddenly? If I had known …”
“It would have changed nothing,” Verity said to him.
“And to lament on words not said, what might have been done …” She rested her hand on the table as if reaching for him.
“Best to honor their memories by focusing on the good, rather than wallowing in sorrow with thoughts of what we did or did not do. She would not want you sitting here like this, despondent and depressed. You know that.”
“I do,” Alaric admitted. “Honora would have …” He chuckled as he thought of his grandmother. “Were she here right now, she would likely take me by the ear and drag me from the room. Sure to chastise me for daring to weep.”
Verity laughed gently. “She would be the first to laugh, even when times were at their saddest.”
“I will miss her,” Alaric said, and he felt those words in his chest. “So much death, it is hard to justify … to accept it. What is it for? How are we supposed to move on as if nothing has changed?”
“I do not think that is the point. What we do is remember those we lost, Alaric. And the lives we live honor their memories. To be happy is to prove that they left their mark on us.” She looked right at Alaric, and he knew what was on her mind.
“We cannot change the past, Alaric. No matter how much we wish we could.”
His smile was weak, and while he appreciated his sister’s words, they were hard to swallow and somehow left Alaric feeling even worse than before.
Alaric’s grandmother’s death had caught him by surprise. While they had not been so close these last few years, as she lived in the south of England, they were very close when he was younger, and the love he felt for her had never died.
That her death affected him with such intensity was not a surprise, and he suspected that it would be some time before he fully came to accept it.
However, her death was not the sole reason for his current state of sorrow and pity. That, Alaric was slowly coming to realize, was on account of guilt.
Two years ago, Alaric’s wife had died. Like the death of his grandmother, it had come as a complete surprise.
She had drowned, taken from this world far too soon, while leaving Alaric to continue his life in ways that he thought at the time were right and honorable, but now wondered if he had moved on too quickly.
Was I this sad when my wife died? I am sure that I was.
Yes, Alaric had loved his wife. And yes, he had mourned her as expected. But try as he might, he could not recall feeling this broken and this bereaved. Perhaps he was remembering it incorrectly. Perhaps he had blocked out those sordid months so that he could move on.
Or maybe … maybe his wife’s death had not touched him with nearly as much pain and sadness as it should have done. And when Alaric considered this, he felt guilty, wretched, and as if he had done something to dishonor her memory.
Never one to show emotion, Alaric believed at the time that staunch resilience was proof enough of his sorrow. But if that were the case, why was he so utterly shattered now? What did that mean?
“We have the reading of the will later,” his sister said. “Will you be there?”
“Of course I will be.”
“Will you be capable?” she asked. “If not, no one will blame you.”
“I am fine.” Alaric shook his head to clear his thoughts. “I am saddened, Verity, but I am not broken.” He was, but he felt he could not show more grief for his grandmother’s passing than his wife’s. “I will be there.”
“Good,” she said. It looked as if she was about to leave, only for a thought to come to her. “Oh, and another thing. That girl who came with our grandmother, her companion. Miss Kavanagh?”
“What of her?”
“It is strange that she is in the will, no? She only knew our grandmother for a year. That the will was amended to include her …”
“What are you getting at?”
Verity shrugged. “Oh, nothing. Just musing, is all.”
Alaric sighed at the implication. He had met Miss Kavanagh briefly the previous day, and from the little they had spoken, she appeared genuinely bereaved.
What was more, Alaric had found pity in her. He recognized the loss in her, the sense that she had no place and knew not what to do with herself. Where he had lost a grandmother, she had lost a friend, and his sister would do well to remember that.
“A part of honoring a person’s memory is to respect the friendships they made during their lives, Verity,” he said to his sister. “And I sensed in Miss Kavanagh a true friend to our grandmother.”
“Oh.” His sister blinked. “I am sure that she is … was.”
“We will see what the will says,” he said. “After which, I am sure that Miss Kavanagh will be eager to leave. No doubt she has less than a desire to stay here for longer than she needs to do.”
“Let us hope so,” his sister said as she stood up. “These are trying times, Alaric, and the last thing we need is a stranger in the house. We will read the will; we will see what our grandmother has said, and hopefully, that will be the last we see of the girl.”
His sister left him after that, at which point Alaric went back to watching the approaching storm.
It would break soon. With it would come chaos and destruction. And truthfully, Alaric looked forward to it. Anything to distract himself with, to relieve the guilt, and to take his mind off that which he should have felt when his wife had passed … and the reasons that he did not.
***
Just after midday, Alaric, his sister, his cousin Crispin, and a few members of staff assembled in the library for the reading of the will. It was read by a solicitor, who sat at a table in the center of the library, listing off the various instructions in a professional manner free of emotion.
Verity stood over the solicitor’s shoulder; her eyes fixed on the will as if to check that nothing was missed.
Crispin stood in the corner, arms folded, appearing almost bored.
The staff gathered near the table, and they appeared genuinely surprised to be there. That made Alaric smile, because his grandmother was always the type to think highly of others, regardless of their rank and status.
And finally, there was Miss Nessa Kavanagh.
She stood awkwardly at the back of the library, suggesting she had no desire to be there. Not out of rudeness, as if she had somewhere better to be. Rather, she looked out of place, seemingly aware that she did not belong.
Despite his best efforts, Alaric felt his gaze straying to her as the will was read.
He had taken little notice of her the previous day, which he now found strange.
She stood out. That was the reason. Her hair was flaming red, thick and wild; untamable like a stray mare found in the wilderness.
Her eyes were piercing green, too large for her face, and while she feigned shyness, Alaric saw a fire burning behind them that spoke to her confidence, self-assurance, and fierceness.
She was a natural beauty, and were times slightly different …
well, I certainly would have noticed her sooner.
As the will was read, various deeds and personal items were listed with instructions of who the recipients were. Nothing was out of the ordinary at first. That was until …
“And finally,” the solicitor continued, “Lady Honora Whitcombe requests that her personal companion, Miss Nessa Kavanagh, be retained at Thornwyck Hall as a housekeeper.”
“What?” Verity screeched in surprise.
The solicitor cleared his throat. “As I said, Lady Honora requests that her personal retainer –”
“Give me that.” Verity snatched the roll of parchment from the solicitor’s hand and started to read it.
Alaric turned immediately to find Miss Kavanagh.
It was a small relief to see her wide eyes, and the color drained from her face. Clearly, she was as shocked by this announcement as he was.
A housekeeper … what is my grandmother thinking?