Chapter 36
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
ONE WEEK LATER
“What does it say?” Ellen asked, looking toward Madalene.
They were all at the breakfast table. Ellen.
Laurence. Madalene. Even Solomon had joined them.
Though the dishes crowding the polished oak surface had remained untouched by all.
Ellen had seen Benedict’s portrait on the front page of the newspaper when Solomon had brought it in and laid it down, but she didn’t have the strength to read it herself.
Laurence did not seem to have the will to do so either, though in truth she did not know. They had not spoken since she had brought up the annulment, and it had been a special sort of torture that now, after all was done, he seemed comfortable sharing a space with her, even if it was in silence.
Madalene had no inclination to suffer such silence, however, and reached for the newspaper.
“The trial of one Benedict Page, Earl of Highcastle, was one of great haste,” Madalene read aloud.
“The lord, who had only recently inherited the title, was found guilty by the royal courts for murder of a noble—the late Robert Munro, the former Earl of Highcastle—and the kidnapping of another—one Ellen Munro, the Duchess of Blackford and daughter to the late Highcastle titleholder.”
Ellen flinched as she heard her title, and wondered when she would lose the prestigious address. It was not the rank she would miss, but what it meant to be Laurence’s wife.
“With testimonies from two servants who once worked in the Highcastle Estate, known as Perminton Manor, and a confession found in Lord Highcastle’s personal diaries, the courts found the perpetrator guilty and sentenced him to death by hanging,” Madalene went on.
“The sentence was carried out…” Madalene went silent as she read the date before she said aloud, “yesterday. A coroner confirmed the former earl’s death, and the undertaker was tasked to bury the guilty party in Criminal’s End.
“Presently, the royal courts are tracing the lineage of the Highcastle title, and will announce the newest inheritor when proper authentication is proven.”
Finished, Madalene folded the paper and slid it down the table toward Laurence. He didn’t even move to stop it, and it carried down until it fell over the edge by his chair. Neither he nor Solomon looked up from their untouched plates.
“Not a single mention of this blasted auction,” Solomon grumbled. “No mention of Annabel. No hint of investigation into her death or who is responsible.”
The air felt heavy with heartache as no one answered. There was nothing to say. The entire goal of getting to Benedict was to bring the auction to ruin, and all their efforts had amounted to nothing. Benedict might be gone, but the auction was left untouched, and free to do as it pleased.
“Godric did warn us that it was no easy task,” Laurence said after a long while. “It was only our own foolish hope that had us thinking we would be the ones to stop it.”
“You tried,” Ellen said, lifting her head to look at the end of the table where Solomon and Laurence solemnly sat. “You did so much more than most others. You should feel proud of that.”
Laurence’s gaze flicked up to her, a ghost of a smile flitting across his lips. Then, as if he realized something, that brief light in his eyes dimmed, and he cast his gaze back to his plate.
“That is kind of you to say, Ellen. Thank you,” Solomon murmured grimly. “I just wish it had been enough.”
So did she. Laurence might be leaving her, might be breaking her heart, but even so, she hated seeing him so disappointed.
The silence stretched again.
“Who do you think will inherit your father’s title and lands, Ellen?” Madalene finally said, her tone soft and unsure as she changed the subject.
Ellen scoffed.
“You mean what little is left?” she asked.
Her poor attempt at dark humor fell flat, and no one answered.
Ellen nibbled her bottom lip and caught Laurence’s gaze snapping to her. His lips parted slightly, as if he longed to be the one doing the nibbling, and a blush stole across her cheeks as she abruptly stopped. She couldn’t think that. Not when he would be asking her to leave any day now.
“Um, well, my family is—was small,” she said with a sigh. “Neither my father nor his brother produced more than one child, and my grandfather only had them. No extended family that I know of, so…so I suppose I am the only one left.”
Madalene’s brows rose, then she looked to her brother and Solomon.
“Can she have it then? As a woman?” she asked them.
Laurence and Solomon shared a glance, and then Laurence cleared his throat as he sat up a little straighter.
“Actually, since you are married to me,” he began, sounding uncomfortable with the turn in conversation, “it would go to me. However, I, of course, would allow you to do with it as you pleased. I would not stand in the way of your wishes.”
Ache speared Ellen’s heart as she gave a curt nod.
“Good,” she quipped.
“I suppose after that is cleared up by the courts, I could live there.”
Even with her head bowed, she caught Madalene and Solomon turning their gazes to her in shock.
“What?” Madalene demanded, her brow furrowing in confusion as she looked from Ellen to Laurence.
Solomon cleared his throat as he rose to stand.
“I believe I should take my leave,” he announced, buttoning his jacket again. “I um…I need to do something. Ride or hunt or…or something.”
Ellen looked up at him with a compassionate stare. She could not imagine what sort of heartbreak he was experiencing on his own.
“Take care, brother; we shall speak soon,” Laurence said, rising to shake Solomon’s hand.
“Take your time,” Solomon answered, shifting his gaze from Laurence to Ellen. “It seems you have something to do as well.”
Ellen blushed as she quietly said her goodbyes, her words echoing Madalene’s. She stayed seated as Solomon left.
“What is this about you moving back to Perminton Manor?” Madalene demanded the moment the three of them were left alone.
Laurence cast his gaze toward Ellen, as if expecting her to answer.
“Ellen has asked for an annulment,” he said quietly when she did not speak.
“After everything?” Madalene said, her gaze constantly flicking from one to the other. “I know you both had your doubts before, but now? After—”
“It is none of your business, Madalene,” Laurence stated firmly, flicking a glare toward his sister.
Madalene opened her mouth, as if ready to hurl harsh words at him, then she shoved herself to her feet as she snapped her mouth shut and stormed off without another word.
“You did not need to be so harsh with her,” Ellen said, feeling the tension rise in the space between her and Laurence.
His gaze was flat and cold as he met her eyes.
“I suppose not,” he muttered. “It is not she who wants to leave me.”
Hurt and confusion surged through Ellen.
“What are you talking about?” she asked, leaning toward him. “It's not that I want—”
Her words were cut off by a blood-curdling scream, the sound making her heated blood suddenly run cold.
Laurence and Ellen shared a worried glance as a second of tense silence passed, the two of them each bracing the arms of their chairs. Then a second scream erupted through the house, followed by Madalene calling their names, and at once, they surged from their chairs and ran upstairs.