When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 25

A Previous Engagement

F

rederick, Earl of Staton, wandered the ancient hallways of Hembry Castle with his head bowed. He moved with his eyes nearly closed, though it didn’t surprise him that he had meandered from the east wing to the west wing and back again without banging into something. He had lived in that house the first years of his life. Even when he attended Eton, even when he attended Oxford, even when he lived a continent away, he dreamed of Hembry, its curves and ways, its hidden passages, its loose cupboards in the attics and forgotten floorboards in the scullery. He had never escaped the place, not entirely, and now that he was back, and now that it was his—the curves and ways, the hidden passages, the cupboards and the floorboards—he realized how intertwined he had been with the castle all along. He fled across the Atlantic in quest of a new life, and here he was anyway. We think we’re in control of our lives, Frederick thought, but we’re not, not really. Life has plans for us beyond our envisionings, plans even we cannot fathom. He laughed, thinking he sounded rather American then. But there it is. We do the best we can, and then life reveals its object for us, and we must either face the path and its challenges head on or burrow ourselves away, pretending we cannot see or hear. That’s what Richard had done, poor soul. He couldn’t face his life as Earl, so he hid away and excused away, and now Frederick’s beloved brother was lost to him forever.

Frederick’s philosophical meanderings had been brought on by his second meeting with Mr. Ruckson. After the detective left, Frederick wondered if he was perhaps a suspect in his brother’s murder. But he had been at Staton House all that night, and besides, Richard hadn’t been murdered. He fell over the bridge. Hadn’t he? Frederick realized he needed more answers about that dreadful night. He went to visit John Hough only to be told by a village woman that the doctor had left suddenly without telling anyone. Inside the doctor’s cottage were several notes, not about his whereabouts, but about how to tend to the villagers who were still unwell, namely Mrs. Pearson’s boy Joseph. The doctor hadn’t been himself since Richard’s death. No one was surprised. The doctor and Richard had been the greatest of friends for so many years it was strange to see the doctor without Richard by his side. Now Hough had vanished to who-knows-where, and Frederick was uneasy with the news. Hough had been so bewildered when Frederick last saw him over Richard’s body in the morgue. He gave his statement, then wept and wheezed like an asthmatic gasping for air. But what if Richard’s death wasn’t an accident after all?

Lady Staton still grieved, inwardly, for that was the aristocrat’s way. Outwardly, she complained about the family’s place at center of Society gossip. “Who killed Richard, Earl of Staton?” was the question on everyone’s lips, aristocrats, servants, and villagers alike. Lady Staton wondered aloud if it was better to allow everyone to believe that Richard had been murdered. An accidental death would have made Richard seem careless, and suicides were not treated well, by church, state, or Society. Frederick didn’t care what anyone else thought. He only cared that perhaps his beloved eldest brother had been so miserable that jumping to his death from London Bridge seemed the only way out.

Frederick had been surprised by Mr. Ruckson’s visit after luncheon. The detective asked the same questions he had before, and Frederick answered patiently.

“As I told you before, Detective Ruckson, there were many people at Staton House the night my brother died. They were coming and going for the ball. Besides, my brother didn’t die at Staton House. He was found in the Thames.”

“True.” Mr. Ruckson stepped closer to Frederick, and Frederick held his breath, overwhelmed by the cigar stench that lingered like a stale halo over the inspector. “Your prospects have certainly improved since your brother’s death, wouldn’t you say, Lord Staton?”

“Perhaps for someone else. I never wanted this life.”

“Is it true you went to America when you were a young man?”

“I moved to New York when I was two-and-twenty and I’ve only come back to England this past year.”

“Is it true that your parents wished often and loudly that you were the heir instead of your eldest brother?”

“People say things when they’re frustrated.”

“Is it true? That’s all I’m asking, Lord Staton. Is it true?”

“It is.”

After the detective left, Frederick’s stomach felt tight and it was uncomfortable to stand so he crumpled into the wing chair before the hearth. He was tired and didn’t want to see anyone, but he couldn’t hide as much as he wanted. He had too much to do, farmers quarrels to settle, so he went about his day as normally as possible. He knew Daphne would notice any oddities in his manner, and he didn’t want to alarm her. Finally, as it neared dinner, he stopped by Daphne’s bedroom before going downstairs. He knocked, and when he opened the door Daphne was placing a letter between the pages of a book that lay open on her writing desk. When Daphne saw her father, she turned as pink as her dress.

“And what is that?” Frederick asked.

“A letter from Edward.”

“And what does Mr. Edward Ellis have to say?”

“Not much. He’s so busy with the newspaper and his own work he hardly has time to write. He said he’s been working so hard that yesterday he fell asleep at his desk and his head ended up in his plate alongside his mutton and potatoes. I laughed out loud when I read it.” Daphne smiled. “Edward writes such wonderful letters, Papa.”

“Yes, he does. Does he write to you often?”

Daphne placed the book on the table near her bed. “Sometimes.”

“I see.”

“We’re just friends, Papa.”

Daphne’s cheeks were the color of red apples, and Frederick had to restrain a smile. He had liked Edward from their first introduction at the offices of the Observer, and he admired the young man. Edward was clever, observant, and talented in that unfair way that would make you dislike him intensely if he wasn’t such a personable young man. No, Frederick decided, I wouldn’t mind young Mr. Ellis as a son-in-law at all.

The next afternoon Frederick was lounging in the library reading the newspaper (the Daily Observer, of course) when Daphne found him. Frederick offered his cheek, which his daughter was quick to kiss.

“I was afraid I missed you before you left for London,” she said.

“I would never leave without seeing you first. Where have you been all morning, Lady Daphne?”

“I was visiting Mrs. Pearson and Joseph.”

“How is the lad?”

“He’s sick again. He’s so lethargic he can hardly get out of bed, and Mrs. Pearson says he has no appetite. I brought some of Mrs. Graham’s scones and clotted cream, and he ate a bit and fell asleep soon after. He’s wasting away, Papa, and I don’t know what we’re going to do without a doctor in Hembry.”

“You’re right. I can’t dillydally any longer.” Frederick folded the newspaper and set it on the desk in front of him. “It’s why I’m going to London. I’ve been given a lead about a doctor who might be willing to leave his town practice behind. I’m willing to make it worth his while. I hope this man is as knowledgeable as Hough, but I worry. I doubt I’ll ever find anyone with Hough’s expertise. I think Hough has read every book written about medicine.”

“There’s been no word about Mr. Hough?”

“None that I’ve heard.” Through the window Frederick contemplated the slow-moving river as it reflected the radiating sunlight. It was a perfect summer day, two pillow-white clouds floating northward, the weather comfortably warm. He saw the river disappear into green in the distance, and he looked to where the stone rotunda pointed its dome toward the sky. A deer meandered past, sniffing the rotunda steps, feasting on the grass, then galloping into the thicket of feathery trees. “You’re not worried about the stranger that’s been spotted here, are you?”

“I’m not afraid, Papa.” Daphne followed her father’s gaze to the rotunda. “He hasn’t been seen for several weeks, and whoever he is must not mean any harm.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because he would have done something by now if he did. When you’re in London I know Mr. Ellis is here, along with the other staff. I’m well protected. Maybe the man is lost, or lonely, or hungry. Maybe he needs our help.”

“My Daphne. I have never met anyone so willing to see the good in others.”

“I learned it from you, Papa.”

For a moment it seemed as though the bookshelf coughed, and a polite cough it was too. Mr. Ellis stepped out of the shadows.

“Forgive me for interrupting, my lord, but your bags are in the carriage and Cooper recommends leaving as soon as possible in order for you to meet your train.”

Daphne grasped her father’s hand. “Don’t forget you’re going to the Chattaways to dine tonight.”

“I haven’t forgotten. It will be good to spend time with old Chattaway. I’ve hardly seen him since we first arrived in England.”

Mr. Ellis appeared with Lord Staton’s top hat and overcoat, and Daphne helped her father put them on.

“Have a wonderful time with the Chattaways, and tell Christina I’ll see her the next time I’m in London, I promise. And, please, make sure you and Mr. Chattaway talk of something other than newspapers or you’ll drive the women mad.”

“I’m sure we’ll find another way to do that.”

That night Frederick

returned to Staton House with a heavy heart. Perhaps I was wrong about Edward and Daphne from the beginning, he thought. Perhaps he hadn’t seen Edward’s longing glances at his daughter. Perhaps Edward was, as Daphne insisted, simply a friend. But Daphne had fallen for Edward, of that Frederick was sure. She was too embarrassed, or too unsure, or too afraid, but she was in love. Only now Frederick needed to tell her that the man she loved could never be hers.

Frederick didn’t want to wake any of the staff at that late hour so he crept up the stairs in the dark. He didn’t know what to do. One part of him wanted to jump on the first train back to Hembry to tell Daphne. She had to know what kind of two-timing double crosser that Edward Ellis was. Another part of him thought it wasn’t any of his business. The final part of him wished he had never returned to England in the first place.

He opened the door to Daphne’s bedroom in Staton House, wishing his daughter were there so he could confess to her and comfort her, or she could comfort him, whichever proved more pressing. It was a narrow room, only six feet wide and ten feet across, but the Baroque-style gold moldings on the ceiling added elegance to the space. Frederick sat on the green damask chair near the writing desk and stared at the paper set out neatly alongside pens and ink jars. He wondered if he should telegraph and tell her at once, wait until he returned to Hembry, or say nothing at all. Perhaps Daphne even knew, though Frederick’s instinct told him that was not the case.

In the morning, Frederick returned to Hembry since telling his daughter this pressing news became more important than any doctor he might find. He returned to the castle before luncheon, found Daphne, and led her to her bedroom where they might have some privacy. Feesbury, his valet, looked chagrined when his lordship shrugged away any help with his overcoat. The housemaids came in to straighten Lady Daphne’s room, but his lordship shooed them away too.

Frederick spoke simply. This was not a time for metaphors and analogies. He repeated what Mitchell Chattaway had said and which had been verified by Miss Chattaway herself, by the entire Chattaway family, in fact. Daphne stared into the hearth for a long time, not moving. Then she shivered and stepped closer to the warmth of the flames. She looked very young, Frederick thought, with the sadness of a child burdened with her first major disappointment when she realizes life isn’t fair after all.

“I’m so sorry, Daphne. I don’t know what to say. Mitchell Chattaway didn’t seem to think the information would be surprising to me in any way. He was simply sharing some family news about the engagement of his eldest daughter to a young man I knew. I tried to hide my surprise the best I could, though I’m not sure how well I succeeded. I congratulated Miss Chattaway. After all, there was no point in being angry. If there’s an agreement between them there’s nothing more to be said.”

Daphne’s voice quavered. “If anyone made a mistake it was me.” She was trembling, though she tried to hide behind a brave smile.

Frederick opened the window and breathed in deeply, hoping to find some breeze outside. He turned to Daphne, who struggled to maintain her composure. “I don’t believe young Mr. Ellis is without blame in this. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. I’ve seen the way he seeks you out whenever you’re near. I saw the two of you dance the day away at Christmas, and I watched you disappear together at your ball. Could we both have been so wrong about him? If he is engaged to Miss Chattaway, which he obviously is, then what would be the point of making you believe...?” Frederick slammed his fist into the windowsill. “No, Daphne. I won’t stand for it. I won’t be hoodwinked that way. If that young man deliberately wormed his way into my generosity, making me believe he was my friend and more than a friend to you in order to ensure my assisting his literary ambitions, if he planned to get what he wanted, becoming a successful editor and author while you’re cast aside, he has another thing coming!”

“Papa.” Daphne’s voice was calm. “I haven’t been cast aside. He never made any declarations to me. You don’t believe Edward planned this, do you?”

“I don’t know, my dear, but I’m going to find out.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going back to London to give that boy a piece of my mind.”

Daphne stood, her hands out toward her father. “No, Papa. Please. When I think back on all our conversations Edward never once, I mean, we did kiss that time near the castle ruins, but…” The dam broke, and no matter how hard she squeezed her eyes or pressed her lips she couldn’t stop the waterworks from flowing. She covered her face with her hands and slumped forward.

Frederick took his daughter in his arms and let her cry. “It’s all right, my darling. Everything will be fine, you’ll see. I’m catching the next train back to London, and I’m going to challenge this rascal face to face. I want to know why he never mentioned this engagement to us. I want to know why he went out of his way to seek you out if he had already spoken out for Miss Chattaway.”

“He never came to seek me out, Papa. I happened to be here.”

“Happened my eye.” His head pounded suddenly, and he thought to ring for some water. “You and Christina are friends, Daphne. She never told you she and Edward were engaged?”

“I knew she was engaged to a journalist, but she never told me his name.”

“That didn’t strike you as odd?”

“I never thought there was a reason behind it. I thought she was being coy. I realize now I should have made the connection. There were times when I thought Edward had feelings for me, but then there were other times when I thought he didn’t. Now I know he didn’t. It’s my fault. I saw something that wasn’t there, maybe because I wanted to see it.”

“That is so like you to take the blame upon yourself, my Daphne, but this is not your fault. I cannot put into words how disappointed I am in Edward Ellis. There’s more to this story, and I want to know what it is.”

Before Daphne could reply, Frederick was gone. He made up his mind, and he would see it through.