When It Rained at Hembry Castle Chapter 5

The 9th Earl of Staton

L

ater that night, Richard, Earl of Staton, sat in his dark-paneled smoking room puffing on his fourth or fifth cigar of the day—he lost track of how many. Alone, puffing out the surly smoke, refilling his glass from the near-empty brandy bottle, he found his thoughts dissipating into smoke rings. Your lordship. Lord Staton. Richard, Earl of Staton. No longer Richard Meriwether, no longer simply Lord Staton’s eldest boy, the one who would inherit the title someday. He was the Earl. There was no getting away from it now.

He stamped the stub of his cigar into the ashtray and reached into the black lacquer box for a new one. It was dark, nearly midnight, with few stars to light the view outside. He was enjoying his solitude, basking in the absence of anyone but the former Earls who watched unimpressed from their hanging portraits while beloved hunting dogs, sitting like the good boys they were, panted in their own portraits across the room. Richard liked the smoking room best of all because it was the one place in the house where his mother would never follow him. It was unnatural, to live with your mother when you were eight-and-forty and a man in your own right, but this was the life he had been born to, and what could be done? He wasn’t married so he couldn’t send his mother to the Dower House. Could he? He was the Earl, after all. His word was law in the land of Hembry, and if he wanted to send his mother to a quaint, comfortable cottage in the village he didn’t see why he shouldn’t. He sighed because he knew he wouldn’t go through with it (it would be too much trouble) so he resigned himself to hiding in the smoking room whenever he could. For forever, he thought. I’m going to be tucked away in here forever. He cut the tip of the new cigar, lit it, then puffed until he coughed a cloud of smoke.

A knock caused him some worry—it couldn’t possibly be his mother, not here, not at this hour—until John Hough appeared. The doctor was wearing his reading spectacles and held a book in his hand.

“Do you mind if I join you?”

Richard waved in welcome. John Hough shut the door, then sat on the brown leather sofa next to the Earl. The two sat in comfortable silence, John engrossed in his book, Richard staring as though he were having a conversation with the 4th Earl on the wall. Finally, John Hough put his book down.

“What’s troubling you?” Richard shook his head like he hadn’t heard. “Richard?”

“Must you ask?”

Richard leaned back into the sofa, crossed one leg over the other, and puffed on the cigar. Suddenly, perhaps because he had one smoke too many, he couldn’t take another taste, which was sour now. He stamped the burning end into the ashtray, and for the first time that night he didn’t reach for another. He offered the doctor the black lacquer box, but the doctor shook his head. Hough studied Richard through his reading spectacles.

“You’re right. I don’t need to ask. I thought…well, I thought now that it’s happened you’d feel better about things.” Hough smiled in a manner meant to be comforting. “Richard, Earl of Staton. It sounds good, if you ask me.”

Richard walked to the window. He looked to the left to the rolling hills, to the right to the river that flowed through the grounds, hoping to see some glimmer of moonlight on the water, but there was nothing.

“You may as well accept it. It’s not like you didn’t know it was going to happen.”

“It’s the first thing I ever consciously knew in this life.” Richard kept looking to the left, still consumed by the invisible hills. “I knew I was going to be the Earl of Staton before I knew my own name.”

“Now it’s come to pass. Far sooner than any of us hoped, of course. Your father should have lived many more years. He never as much as sneezed before this one illness. But your father is gone and you are Earl, and I say make the best of it.”

Richard nodded. That had always been his father’s advice, after all. You take whatever life gives you and make the best of it you can. “How many men have received titles they didn’t want, do you think? How many reluctant earls or dukes or even princes have there been?”

“Honestly.” John Hough walked to the window and squinted into the darkness. “Who wouldn’t want to be an earl or a duke or a prince?”

Richard felt wobbly suddenly and he grasped the windowsill. An excess of cigars and brandy, he thought.

“Are you certain you’re all right? I am a doctor, you know.”

“Yes, Doctor. I’m perfectly aware of the talents of our family physician.”

Richard felt his legs steady beneath him and he shook only a bit as he returned to his seat in front of the unlit hearth. Looking at the portraits on the walls, he realized that it was time to have his father’s portrait brought there. The smoking room had been his father’s favorite room too, most likely for the same reason—to escape the Countess—and Richard knew his father would like to have his portrait among the other Earls and their dogs.

“Have you made your decision about Lady Lily Carter-Marsh?”

Richard looked at Hough for the first time that night. “I’ve made my decision.”

“And?”

“I won’t be marrying Lady Lily.”

“Your mother will be crushed.”

“She wants me married by the end of the Season.”

“Then you better get going, Lord Staton, because there isn’t much time. What about Ecchols’ little sister? She isn’t so little anymore. She’s grown up to be rather pretty in a billowy sort of way. Or Lassen’s sister Lady Bertina. Off the top of my head I could name a dozen suitable young ladies who would love nothing more than capturing the hand, if not the heart, of the Earl of Staton.”

“Please.” Richard covered his ears with his hands. “I can hardly stand speaking about this with Mamma.” He yawned as he looked at the clock on the mantelpiece and saw it was nearly two in the morning. “Have you discovered where the Prince is these days?”

“At Sandringham House recovering from his testimony on the Mordaunt divorce suit.”

Richard smiled for the first time since seeking refuge in the smoking room. “No one was too surprised to find that the Prince of Wales had visited Mrs. Mordaunt while her husband was busy with the House of Commons. Were they?”

“Hardly.” Hough looked at the Earls’ portraits as though judging whether or not they would gossip amongst themselves when the room was empty. “So will you tell your mother you’re going to see the Prince?”

“Norfolk is as good a place as any, and the Prince entertains so lavishly no one will notice much about anyone else. While mother thinks I’m in Norfolk I’ll be in London.”

“Your brother needs you to go to London again?”

Richard shrugged. “I don’t think my brother cares. I’m going because I want to see for myself. If he won’t handle the matter then I will. Besides, I’ve been around Hembry long enough. As much as I love this house, I can only be here for so long before it starts to swallow me whole. Right now I feel like if I stay another day I’ll…”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll go mad. That’s all. I’ll go mad.”

“Things will get better. You’ll see.”

The Earl turned off the gas lamps, leaving the two men illuminated by candlelight. Hough snubbed out the flames and they stood in darkness. Richard paused with his hand on the doorknob. Was there something he’d forgotten? Was there something he needed to tell John? If there was, he couldn’t remember. He was so tired, and it was late. Richard opened the door and allowed the doctor to pass, sighing as he left the smoking room.