When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 31

The End

T

he shadows were about in Hembry again. Footsteps on the curving stairs, whispers in the halls, movements in the breeze. Daphne couldn’t sleep that early spring night in April, and instead of being frightened by the sounds she took comfort from them, knowing there were things about life at Hembry she would never understand, and she was all right with that. Ever since she had arrived in England with her father nearly two years before she had been struggling to make sense of life at Hembry. Finally, she realized that it was all right to accept life at Hembry for what it was, a society based on tradition, while accepting herself for who she was. When she thought about everything that nearly kept her apart from Edward, her heart swelled with gratitude and the inconveniences became nothing more than that—inconveniences.

She pulled her shawl over her nightgown, slid her feet into her slippers, and tiptoed downstairs. She was afraid that if she stepped too strongly the old floorboards would creak and wake the entire house. She found her way to the library, her favorite room in the house besides her bedroom, and she sank into the settee in front of the cold hearth which had been put out for the night. She thought about everything she had seen since arriving in England, everyone she had met, most especially Edward. She thought about her losses, her grandfather and her Uncle Richard, and she thought about her gains, most especially Edward. Now she had a new cousin to care for, and now she and Pamela were practically family. She looked around the dark-paneled walls, the floor to ceiling bookshelves, the family crest emblazoned on the hearth, and she discovered, perhaps for the first time, that she was comfortable at Hembry Castle. She smiled at a family portrait, an 18th century ancestor, a young woman wearing a sky-high white wig, a hoop wide enough to hide three people under her salmon-pink dress, and a sweet smile as though she knew she were being watched a century later. Daphne couldn’t take her eyes from the portrait, and upon further inspection she saw a young woman who wore different clothing and a different hairstyle, but people haven’t really changed. Daphne’s grandmother had already arranged for a portrait artist to come and paint her father, the Earl, and her, the Earl’s daughter, and she wondered who would be studying her portrait in that very room a hundred years in the future. Instead of feeling intimidated, instead of feeling unable to live up to impossibly high standards, Daphne felt as though she understood the young woman in the painting. She wasn’t some special being, separated from the rest of humanity by an honorary title. She was a person with the same hopes and dreams as anyone. Did the young woman have a happy life, Daphne wondered? Because that’s all anyone wants, no matter which family they’re born to, no matter what their circumstances.

It was Lady Staton who helped Daphne understand that. Grand Lady Staton, perfectly dignified even with an ear trumpet pressed to her head, who carried herself so straight she looked as though she had been born with a curtain rod through her spine, and yet she had crumpled to the floor when her eldest son died like any other mother would have. My grandmother is a person like any other, Daphne thought, with feelings like any other, and the appearance of perfection is merely an affectation. In fact, Lady Staton seemed to have softened since Richard’s death. She may never be absolutely pleased with Daphne’s choice of a husband, but at least her grandmother had finally relented enough to begin accepting it. Lady Staton had even started a conversation with Edward one night over dinner about the state of the newspaper business.

Uncle Jerrold was another matter entirely. The first to point the finger at anyone who seemed to stray from the social norms, and there he was with a child he left to suffer in poverty. Edward had said, and Daphne believed it was true, that whenever people make pronouncements about the morality of others they often have their own morality problems. But all was well on that front too. Lucy and Josiah were living on Hembry grounds, both cared for, both happy. When her father told Uncle Jerrold that Lucy and her child were living in a cottage near the castle, Jerrold took his wife and sons to live in Italy. Which was just as well, Daphne thought. He was the uncle she would never miss.

It was a good thing that Daphne was feeling at home in the vast house. Her father was the Earl of Staton now and he depended on her help. Yes, it was unusual for an earl’s daughter to be so involved in the management of the house and village business, but he was the wayward, and she was American, and people, even the fancy ones, let it go for those reasons alone. Yes, it was unusual for an earl’s daughter to marry the grandson of the butler and housekeeper, even one growing in fame as a literary talent, but people let that go for the same reasons. She wondered what her life would be like once she was Lady Daphne Ellis. She and Edward had set a date—they would be married in August, just four months away.

She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders and stood near the cold hearth, staring at the family crest. She remembered the way her Uncle Richard had stared at it the night he died. Daphne went to the shelf where she placed her Uncle Richard’s copy of Our Mutual Friend, opened the front cover, and pulled out the letters that had meant so much to him. She was always drawn to the love letter. Yes, Edward sent her love letters all the time, and they were beautiful (leave it to a writer to let you know how much you’re loved), yet there was something so pure about the letter written to her uncle. She stared at the words, feeling a shock of recognition. Her father was right. The hand did look familiar. Could it be?

She went upstairs to her room as quickly as she dared, still aware of the centuries-old floorboards and the crickety stairs. Back in her birdcage bedroom, she opened her desk drawer and pulled out her most recent love letter from Edward along with a letter she was writing to her cousin in Connecticut, making sure her American family could come to England for the wedding. At the bottom of the drawer were a few notes about Mrs. Pearson’s boy, Joseph, and Mr. Spreang. Daphne compared the notes to her uncle’s love letter and she knew. As clearly as she knew Edward loved her, she knew who loved her Uncle Richard. Daphne smiled. Like her father, she was glad to know her uncle had love in his life. She realized she should have made the connection long ago.

After some struggle with the latch, Daphne pushed the heavy window frame up. It had been an angry March, with cold wind and cutting snow, so in April the weather was still nippy. Daphne liked the snap of the air against her face. No wonder Uncle Richard felt so constrained when he became Earl. Now she worried again. Did he see no other way out? Did he jump on purpose after all?

Daphne wondered whether or not she should tell her father about her discovery. She’d talk it over with Edward and decide then. Suddenly, she was so tired. She closed the window, dropped her shawl to the floor, crawled into bed, and fell asleep.

A week

later the shadows rattled the walls of the castle again, and again Daphne stayed awake to commiserate with the ghosts. She jumped when she heard a faint tap at her door.

“Daphne?” It was Mrs. Ellis’ voice. “Daphne, may I come in?”

It had taken some sweet talking, some cajoling, and a few minor threats, but Daphne had convinced her future grandparents-in-law to call her by her first name, at least when no one else was around. Daphne opened the door.

“Mrs. Ellis? What’s wrong?”

“I need you to come with me to the smoking room, but we must go quickly. We haven’t much time.”

“Mrs. Ellis…?”

“You’ll be glad you came. Trust me.”

“Is it Edward?”

“It is not. But I think it’s someone you’ll be very happy to see.”

Daphne followed Mrs. Ellis down the stairs, always on her toes, until they reached the smoking room. Mrs. Ellis opened the door, let Daphne in, and closed the door behind her.

“My dearest Daphne.”

Daphne felt her knees go weak at the sight of the form visible only from the flickering light in the hearth. “But how…” She stepped closer, feeling the darkness of the room envelope her, as though she were caught in that middle state between sleeping and wakefulness. “Am I dreaming?”

Richard took Daphne’s hands. “You’re not dreaming, my most darling niece. I’m here.”

“And you’re not a ghost?”

Richard laughed. “I’m most certainly not a ghost.” He looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. “I don’t have long, Daphne. I have to go very soon.”

Daphne touched her uncle’s face. Was he a figment of her imagination? She had felt the specters around her so often she wasn’t yet convinced that what she saw was real. “How can you be here? Mr. Hough saw you fall off the bridge, and Papa saw your body. Papa took your watch, the one he gave you for your birthday.”

“What else did the corpse have?”

“It had…” Daphne closed her eyes as she struggled to remember. “It had your shirt pin.”

“Does that sound familiar?”

“Edwin Drood. Edwin’s watch and shirt pin were found by the river.”

“Good girl. I knew you’d remember.”

“Uncle Richard, I still don’t understand.”

“I didn’t fall, my dear, and I didn’t jump. The brain sees what it expects to see. Hough’s a doctor, remember. He has doctor friends, some of whom are my friends too. It wasn’t hard to manage the rest.”

“Mr. Hough knew?”

“Not at first. As far as he knew I jumped, and he thought he saw me in the morgue.”

“How cruel, Uncle Richard.”

“I know, my darling girl, but it had to be done. I needed him to give a convincing account to the police.”

“Was Mr. Hough very angry when he found out?”

“Furious, as he had every right to be. But he’s since forgiven me.”

“I can still hardly believe you’re here. How did you ever come up with such a crazy idea?”

Richard smiled in that sly way that made Daphne laugh when she was a girl. She hadn’t seen that smile since she arrived in England. “I had some help, you see.”

“Our Mutual Friend.”

“Yes. And Drood provided that last piece of inspiration. Mr. Dickens would have his flights of fancy.”

“But why not tell Papa, or me? You’d hardly recognize Grandma these days, she’s so changed.”

“I’ve heard she’s more subdued.” Richard rubbed his hands together. It grew cold in the room as the fire dwindled away. “I am sorry about that, truly I am, but I’m afraid that had to be done as well. I had to get away from here, Daphne, or I would have gone well and truly mad.”

“I understand that, Uncle Richard, I do. But I still don’t see why you couldn’t at least tell Papa.”

“Freddie never wanted the title any more than I did. If he didn’t think he was entitled to it, then he might not have taken to it as well as he has. Everything is all right if you think about it. I’ve taken out the bad Earl and put in the good Earl. Surely that makes up for some of the ills I’ve caused.” He snapped his fingers. “I nearly forgot. This is for you. Consider it a belated engagement present. I knew when I saw you running together in the rain that you and young Mr. Ellis were destined for each other.”

Daphne clutched the small box wrapped in silver paper, and she opened it to find a pair of diamond filigree earrings. “Thank you, Uncle Richard. They’re beautiful. But how did you know Edward and I were engaged?”

“Mrs. Ellis told me.”

“Mrs. Ellis knew?”

“She did. She even helped in her way.”

“Does Edward know? Or Mr. Ellis?”

“They do not. If you ever need help, Mrs. Ellis is the one to call on. Remember that because it may come in handy for you one day.” It was nearing dawn and the faintest pink light appeared on the horizon. “I must be gone before anyone sees me.”

Daphne grasped his hand. “Where will you go?”

“Who knows? The whole world is open to me now.”

“Don’t you want to see Papa?”

“I do, but I won’t. If you want to tell him, then do. But I say let the Earl be the Earl without any more interference from his exasperating eldest brother. Now I must go.”

Richard kissed Daphne’s cheek. As he walked through the door he looked back with such contentment she thought once again that she must have been talking to a spirit.

Edward finally found

time to visit Hembry Castle after being consumed with Observer business, public appearances, and his own writing for more than a month. Daphne told him about her Uncle Richard’s revelation even if she hadn’t yet told her father. She didn’t feel comfortable keeping things from her father, but she wondered if her Uncle Richard was right. Maybe it was best if her father thought the title was rightfully his. Maybe she would tell him another time. Or maybe she wouldn’t tell him at all.

Edward was sitting at the desk in the library revising a new story, one about a man who faked his own death to live in peace with the person he loves, who remains unknown in the story.

“Isn’t that a little close?” Daphne asked after she read it.

“Who’s going to know?” Edward looked dreamily through the window to the curve of the river. “It’s one of the best things I’ve written, actually. Everyone deserves their happily ever after, you know, like when Aschenputtel marries her prince.”

“Are you my prince?”

“I dare say your grandmother would like me better if I were.”

“I like you perfectly fine the way you are.”

“Which is all I need.”

Daphne grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. “Come outside, Edward. You’ve been stuck at that desk all day. Walk with me. The rose garden has bloomed and it’s beautiful.”

She led him through the house, out the front door, past the river to the rose garden that caught her attention when she first arrived at the great house. “I think this is where I began to love Hembry.” She looked at the castle on the hill. “I wasn’t sure what to think when I first saw it. It’s beautiful, but it’s so big, and I didn’t think it would ever feel like home. But it does now. I have my home, and I have you. I don’t need anything else.”

“If you only knew how many nights I lie awake longing to hear those words come from your beautiful lips, how many times I prayed we could be together somehow, some way, then you would know how full my heart feels right now.”

As Edward kissed Daphne it began to rain. They laughed, then dashed across the parkland to the mock castle where they kissed that first time, also in the rain. They stopped under the stone archway and clasped hands. Perhaps they kissed again.

“Do you still complain about how much it rains in England?” Edward asked.

“Not any more.” Daphne threw her arms around Edward’s neck. “I didn’t know then.”

“What didn’t you know?”

“How much joy could be had when it rained at Hembry Castle.”

The End of Book One