9. Chapter 9
R ain streaked the wavy glass windows as I sat in the small study that had become my refuge in Pickering Castle over the past five days.
Dozens of carpenters had been hired to work on the interior and exterior, and the noise, dust, and chaos had begun to tire me.
The small study was tucked away in the corner of the castle, near the library, across the hall from Ames’s office.
It contained a desk, two comfortable chairs, and a fireplace.
I spent an hour or so each day going through correspondence, meeting with Mrs. Moore about household and staffing issues, planning meals with Mrs. Pontipee, and discussing decorating and improvement plans with the foreman.
The rest of the afternoon, if I wasn’t needed to oversee repairs or plans, I spent writing.
The evenings were reserved for training my brothers-in-law in table manners, drawing room etiquette, conversation, and dancing.
The view of the moors from the windows was stunning on sunny days, but almost more breathtaking on rainy ones. Even though the landscape looked drab and dreary, there was beauty in the mist rising from the dips and hollows, and the green foliage was vibrant against the gray sky.
A knock at the door alerted me that Freemont had arrived. “I have the post, Your Grace.”
“Thank you.”
He entered the room, holding a silver server in one hand and his cane in the other. The server shook as he breathed heavily.
I took the three envelopes and smiled, compassion warming my heart. “Freemont, we haven’t yet spoken about your employment here—” The look of dread and unease that passed over his wrinkled face made me pause. “You have served the Welby family faithfully for how many years now?”
“Seventy-one.”
“That is—remarkable.”
“This work is my life, Your Grace.”
“And we are so grateful for your service.” I needed to tread carefully.
I didn’t want him to think he was unwanted or replaceable, but the truth was that he was unable to fulfill the duties required and with a house party planned, we would need a butler up to the task.
Mrs. Moore had complained about him every time we’d met, and I had promised her I would find a new butler soon.
“I don’t know what I would do if I didn’t have this work, Your Grace.” His eyes became watery. “Please don’t ask me to leave.”
“We would never ask you to leave,” I said quickly. “Pickering Castle is your home. But perhaps it’s time to hire a new butler to take on the more arduous tasks and allow you to retire to a cottage nearby where you can contribute to the castle in a different way.”
He let out a sigh, his age more apparent than ever as his shoulders stooped. “I knew it was coming and I shouldn’t be surprised. I’ve lived a good life here at the castle, and I’m proud to say I was here to support the Welby family through some of their hardest days.”
I hadn’t thought to ask Freemont about the previous dukes and their untimely deaths. Perhaps Aunt Eliza had only heard rumors, but Freemont would have been in the castle when they died.
“Which duke hired you?”
“The 4th Duke of Severton, Frederich Welby, Your Grace.”
“And he was the first duke to die by accident?”
Freemont nodded. “In 1820, seven years after I arrived. He fell down the stairwell near Your Grace’s bedchamber, I’m afraid.”
“I’ve heard rumors—” I paused, not wanting to offend.
“That it was his wife who did it?”
“Yes.”
Freemont’s lips turned down and he said, “Just rumors.”
“And the 5th duke?”
“A riding accident.” He tsked. “A dreadful thing, in 1861. He’d been riding horses his whole life. No one knows what spooked the animal. We just found him lying in a creek he used to jump with his horse, his neck broken, after his horse returned to the stables.”
My lips parted in dismay. “And the 6th duke? Ames’s father? Were you here the day he was shot?”
Freemont lowered his gaze. “We, none of us, talk about that day.”
I had noticed. Each of the Welby brothers seemed to deal with their grief differently. Ames was cool and indifferent, Brant was charming, Collins used humor, Davis hid in his books, and Everett kept a chip on his shoulder, ready to fight the world. But none of them addressed their pain.
Pressing my lips together, I glanced toward the door to see if anyone was nearby, then forged ahead. “Can you tell me what led to the shooting? I’m trying to understand.”
“It’s not my place to speak of the dead, or my master and mistress.”
“A noble thing, indeed,” I told him, scooting forward on my chair, “but I long to know.”
“Perhaps you had better speak to His Grace about it. He was there. In the room.”
Freemont was right. It wasn’t my place to ask him to share rumors with me. I longed to ask Ames, but each time I thought of bringing it up, the moment didn’t feel right. I wanted him to trust me enough to tell me, but we needed more time together.
I let out a sigh. “Can you tell me why people think the castle is haunted? Do you know anything about the Wailing Duchess?”
A shiver ran up my spine thinking about that strange sound I’d heard the night Ames had been playing the piano in the music room. I hadn’t heard it since then, even though I’d been in the music room every night, dancing with the Welby brothers.
Just thinking about the dancing lessons warmed my cheeks. Ames had been there and the weight of his attraction nearly overpowered me—but as soon as the music ended, and it was time to say good night, we returned to our separate bedchambers.
“I can’t say that I know anything about the Wailing Duchess,” Freemont said slowly.
“You can’t say—or you won’t say?”
He lifted his watery gaze to mine. “There is no Wailing Duchess, Your Grace. I’ve been here the longest and if anyone would know, ’twould be me.”
“Have you heard the strange wailing sound?”
“’Tis just the wind.”
Was it? Or was it something more? I had heard the wind—the moaning or wailing sound was different.
“There is one thing I can tell you about each of the dukes,” Freemont said, perking up. “They were all masters of the piano. Every single one of them.”
“An admirable family skill.”
“Each one taught the duke that would proceed him.” He placed his hands on his knees. “I hope the present duke has an opportunity to teach his own son one day. And I hope I’m here to witness that happy occasion.”
I didn’t want to think about the heirs to the dukedom—or the lack of them. “There will always be a home for you here, Freemont. You have my word.”
“Aye.” He nodded. “I thank you.”
“We hope to have a new butler in place within the week, though. And once our house party starts, the carpenters will turn their attention to the dependencies. When a cottage is ready, you can move out of the castle and have some space to yourself.”
A sad smile passed over his face. “I’ll start to pack my few things and be ready to move into the cottage when it’s time.”
As he left the study, I watched him go, thinking of a life well lived.
A few moments later, I turned to the correspondence in my hands. The first envelope was from Mrs. Ellsworth Danby, Sarah Danby’s mother. It was my first reply to the invitations I’d sent out.
With excited anticipation, I ran a letter opener under the envelope flap and then pulled out the letter.
My shoulders sagged as I read her response.
Your Grace, I am honored to receive your invitation on behalf of myself and Sarah.
However, I think it prudent to be forthright with you.
I’ve spoken to several of the chaperones you’ve invited to your house party, and while all of us would enjoy the excursion into the English countryside, many of us believe it to be a waste of time.
You know as well as I do that the reason we’ve come to England is to secure advantageous matches for our daughters, and since you’ve nabbed the only titled Welby brother, we don’t think it is wise to make the trip, not to mention the reluctance due to the rumors surrounding Pickering Castle and its former inhabitants.
We will await an invitation to a house party where there are eligible, titled gentlemen for our daughters to consider.
Yours respectfully, Mrs. Ellsworth Danby.
My lips pressed together as I reread her letter.
I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I couldn’t help being disappointed.
I had been looking forward to a house party, to seeing my friends again and having a reason to make all these changes to the castle so quickly.
If Mrs. Danby’s letter was to be believed, none of those I’d invited would accept my invitation.
The door opened again and I glanced up.
It was Ames. “Have you made a decision about the windows in the state drawing—?” He paused. “What’s wrong?”
I hadn’t realized he was inside today, but his presence was a sweet surprise, especially with the arrival of the correspondence.
I lifted the letter, trying not to be discouraged. “I don’t believe anyone will come to my house party.”
He entered the study and closed the door.
It wasn’t a large room, and it felt smaller and more intimate with his commanding presence.
He crossed his arms and studied my face. “Why not?”
“Because there are no titles to be had here.”
Understanding dawned on his face, and then he scowled.
“We cannot be angry,” I said, gaining control of my disappointment. “We know why they’re in England. We just played the game ourselves a few weeks ago.”
“It feels different when it affects—my wife.”
I liked when he called me his wife—yet I didn’t feel like a wife. Not really. I felt like a business partner, except when we danced in the music room. When he held me. Then, and only then, did I feel like his wife.
I cleared my throat, not wanting to dwell on my other disappointment.
“There is something you don’t know, Lily.” And he did not look pleased that he needed to tell me.
“What?”