Twenty-five

Emma woke the next morning with a sense of expectation. This would be the day her entire life would change. She was going to accept the proposal from Lord Darington. She scrunched her toes under the warm bedsheets with anticipation. She was going to say yes. She was going to be married!

She flung back the blankets, jumped out of the tall bed, and twirled around, ignoring the cold floorboards under her feet. She jumped back into bed and decided one of the first things she would do as mistress of this house was put rugs on the bedroom floors.

She paused even as her breath hitched. Mistress of this house. She was going to be the mistress of this house. She would be Lady Darington, a countess no less! Of course she was not marrying Dare for his title or his money or his house…but she could not deny that it was rather nice all the same.

What would Regina and Eustace say? Oh, they would be furious when they found out and would probably try to make things difficult, but no matter. She was of majority, she could do as wished, and once married to Darington, there was not a thing they could do about it.

Emma rang for Sally, who arrived with her usual ill humor, but Emma was too happy to care. She dressed quickly and proceeded down to the breakfast room. Dare and his sister, early risers both, were already there deep in conversation.

“Good morning,” Emma said brightly.

Dare rose as she entered, and she was pleased to see him move a little faster than he had the day before. It was a good sign that he was healing well.

She was a little disappointed that Kate was present—not that she did not like his reserved sister, but she wished to speak to Dare alone. The two siblings, however, were clearly discussing something of particular import, for they both had stopped as soon as she entered, their faces even more grim and serious than their usual bleak manner.

“Kate and Wynbrook believe they have found our housekeeper,” explained Dare as Emma sat beside him at the table.

“I did not know she was missing,” responded Emma.

“Our old housekeeper,” explained Kate.

Still Emma did not understand the importance of such a discovery.

“The one who worked here when our father died,” explained Dare. “And the house was—”

“Looted,” finished Kate.

“Oh!” The significance dawned on Emma. “She may have answers about what happened.”

“Yes.” Dare gave a curt nod. “We had been told she had died.”

“Took her own life,” added Kate. “But apparently she survived the suicide attempt and was sent to an asylum for many years. She has returned and is now living in the village with her daughter.”

“Excellent!” cried Emma. “I hope your audience with her will prove informative.”

“Awkward thing just to knock on the door,” Kate muttered.

“Oh, but I think it would be perfectly normal. Why, I often visit people who live in the village near my father’s estate and our tenants too. People appreciate a basket of treats and good company.”

“Good company is beyond my ability to provide,” said Kate with frank honesty. “But the basket sounds like a good plan. I wonder what to put in it.”

“If I could be of service, I could pop down to the kitchen and see what might be on hand. Those biscuits cook served yesterday were heavenly.”

“That would be appreciated,” admitted Kate.

“And you must come with us too,” Dare demanded, then continued in a more hesitant tone. “If it is not an imposition. I imagine Wynbrook will want to come as well.”

“I would be delighted,” Emma cried, truly happy he had included her. She knew he was a taciturn, private person. If he invited her to come, then he saw her as family. His family. Emma beamed broadly at the glum brother and sister and hastened to prepare a basket for a social call.

After a nice chat with the cook, Emma assembled a basket of tea and biscuits wrapped in a lovely tablecloth. She returned to the drawing room, hoping for a private audience with Darington. She was in luck, finding him reading the paper with his greatcoat lying beside him on the settee, ready to leave as soon as the party was assembled.

“I have chosen a few tempting treats,” said Emma, holding up the basket before placing it on a side table.

Dare immediately rose, flung his coat to the side, and motioned for her to sit.

Emma sat beside him on the settee, her heart beating loudly in her chest. How was one to broach the topic of marriage? “I do hope you will be able to gain the information you seek today.”

“Thank you. I do too.”

The clock ticked loudly as the seconds dragged along. She was not typically at a loss for words, but then she was not typically accepting a marriage proposal. His demeanor was so reserved it was almost fierce, which did not provide much encouragement for what she intended to say.

“I…I was thinking about our conversation last night.” She boldly initiated the topic, watching carefully for his response.

“Yes?” He remained somber but a certain softness crept into his eyes. It was the most encouragement she was going to receive. It would have to be enough.

“Yes, I would like to—”

“Robert. Miss St. James. We are ready to leave.” Kate strode into the drawing room, followed by Wynbrook.

“Looks like rain,” commented Wynbrook. “With any luck, I can get soaked through again.”

“Not if we leave now. I believe the weather will hold for a while at least,” declared Kate, looking at them expectantly.

“I was having a conversation with Miss St. James,” said Dare with a scowl.

“Perhaps you can finish it later,” returned Kate with an equally ferocious frown.

“Yes, of course,” said Emma, jumping to her feet. “We can certainly talk later over tea.” She was not sure if she was relieved or disappointed to be saved from declaring herself. Maybe she could think of a clever way to accept his proposal as they visited the old housekeeper.

A few minutes later, Emma sat in between Lord Darington and Lady Kate in the coach as Wynbrook drove them to the village. The invalid housekeeper, by the name of Mrs. Hennings, was rumored to live there with her grown daughter.

Though the dark clouds threatened rain, they drove down the five miles to the small fishing village without incident. The village was nestled around an ocean cove. Emma surveyed the small, white houses, closely clustered together, with interest. Would the villagers be her new friends? Would they accept her the way the villagers around Waverley had?

They found the house, and Dare knocked on the door. She watched him carefully for signs of pain. Though he shifted from one foot to the other, he remained upright. He was no doubt hurting, but he was improving and Emma was happy to see it. Now if only he could find the answers he sought, maybe he could discover some peace, even joy, in his life.

A middle-aged woman in modest attire opened the door and gaped at them, her eyes wide at having such illustrious guests. Despite her deference, she resisted the request to meet with Mrs. Hennings.

“Me mother is ill, sir. She sees no one.” The housekeeper’s daughter shook her head, her distress clear.

Emma could practically feel the frustration and anxiety rise in Darington and his sister. They needed to have answers and she immediately jumped in to help. “Lord Darington and Lady Katherine have brought gifts for your table. May we come in?” asked Emma sweetly, holding up the basket.

“Yes, yes, of course!” The woman opened the door wide and ushered them into the simple dwelling. Several openmouthed children stared at them from the corner of the room that would be best described as “homey.”

Emma smiled at the children, made introductions, and chatted to put everyone at ease. The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Saunders, reluctantly granted an audience with her mother. Dare and Kate went to a back room to meet with the elderly Mrs. Hennings while Emma and Wynbrook took to keeping everyone else in the house entertained to give them time for their chat.

In this regard, Emma had a capable partner, for while she made the tea they had brought, Wynbrook regaled them with entertaining stories and kept the children amused, even wining a smile from the unsure Mrs. Saunders. When an anguished sob escaped from the room next door, Wynbrook spoke louder and Emma practically forced the biscuits on the family, both doing their best to give Dare and Kate more time. Emma prayed they would be able to find the information they needed to finally answer the question of who had attempted to destroy their lives and left them in debtor’s prison.

All was quiet again for several minutes and then the sound of mournful wailing grew so loud not even the combined efforts of Emma and Wynbrook could prevent Mrs. Saunders from rushing to check on the welfare of her mother. Emma and Wynbrook followed her to the door of the small room, where all three stopped, transfixed by the sight before them.

A small woman with thinning, gray hair was hunched over on a chair, while Kate knelt beside her, trying to provide comfort. Mrs. Hennings was talking of her time in service at Greystone. She was recalling the time just before the first Darington died, when the master lay ill and things were disappearing from the house with no explanation.

“She never speaks of this,” whispered Mrs. Saunders to Emma and Wynbrook. “Never.”

“More and more things went missing.” Mrs. Hennings stared straight ahead, wringing her hands. “Finally, the steward told me that the earl was in dire financial straits and the things must be sold to pay his debts. Most of the staff was let go and we shut up parts of the house. I was glad you and Master Robert were at school, and I hoped Lord Darington would recover and be able to set things to rights. The doctor came more frequently and stayed with us for a while, him and his son. By this time, practically everything of value had been sold. I was starting to look for a new position, you understand, not knowing how much longer they could afford to pay me. In truth, toward the end, I had not received my pay in over four months.”

“You are a good woman, Mrs. Hennings, to continue to serve my father so,” reassured Kate in a kind, compassionate tone Emma had never heard from her before. Kate may have had a cool exterior, but she had a true heart.

“Then came the night his lordship passed away.” The housekeeper’s scratchy voice was strained. “It was late and I wished for some tea to steady my nerves, so I went down to the kitchen to prepare it. I heard voices. It was the doctor, berating the cook, saying ‘You gave him too much’ and ‘I didn’t want him to die yet.’”

“He didn’t want my father to die yet?” asked Kate.

Emma gasped. Lord Darington’s father had been murdered? She stared at Dare, her heart breaking for the man who stood perfectly still and silent as Mrs. Hennings went on to describe how the cruel doctor had threatened to kill her children if she ever spoke a word, and so to protect them, she had tried to kill herself.

“Oh, Mama!” cried her daughter, running into the room. “You were trying to protect us? Why did you never tell us?” They embraced each other tightly. Emma reached for her own handkerchief, while Wynbrook handed his to Kate. Dare said nothing, his countenance frozen.

“I do not suppose you know the name of this evil doctor?” asked Kate.

“He went by the name of Dr. Bones, but I am certain that was not his real name. He was in his midthirties perhaps, a muscular man, with black hair and gray eyes that squinted when he talked.”

Wynbrook stepped up to Kate and put a hand on her shoulder. Emma longed to do so for Darington too, but his eyes were blazing with fury and she did not dare.

“I wish there were a way to know who this man was or why he did something so horrible,” said Wynbrook.

“I do not know why,” Mrs. Hennings looked up with tears in her eyes, “but I might know his name.”

Everyone in the room held their breath.

“The doctor, he stayed at Greystone before his lordship passed and I did his laundry. In one of his coat pockets, I found an old letter.”

“Did it have a name?” whispered Kate.

“Captain Harcourt.”

The name meant nothing at first to Emma, though she noted Dare’s hands balling into fists and his jaw growing tight. He knew that name. Where had she heard it before?

“Captain Harcourt?” asked Wynbrook when they were back outside the cottage. “The Captain Harcourt whom your father exposed as a traitor?”

“Oh my stars!” gasped Emma.

“They arrested Harcourt for treason, but the ship taking him back to England was lost at sea. He and all souls aboard were presumed dead,” said Dare, his voice like gravel.

“That is why we have been so cursed. He came back to effect his revenge. Evil, hateful man!” Kate paced back and forth.

Dare said nothing more, but his look had turned murderous. Kate and Wynbrook decided to walk back to Greystone, while Dare would drive Emma. Emma wanted to ask if he was strong enough to handle the coach, but she wisely held her tongue. He had just discovered his father had been murdered. Dare wanted vengeance not sympathy.

Dare offered to have Emma sit in the coach, but she swung herself up to the box instead to sit beside him. There was no way she was going to sit by herself in the coach while her future husband wrestled with such devastating news. Now was her time to let him know her decision and her regard for him. She would tell him he would not have to face this alone; no, she would be at his side.

He looked as if he was going to protest but sat beside her on the coach box and clicked for the horses to get moving.

“As soon as we get back to the house,” he said in a tone so low it was almost a growl, “you need to leave.”