Page 4 of The Beast of Barendale Manor

Edmund could not taste the food he was eating.

Despite the excellent wedding breakfast and sumptuous food available to him, he could barely eat anything. Every now and again, his gaze would wander to his bride— his wife— and he would taste bile in the back of his throat.

I should never have agreed to this, he thought wretchedly. How can I ever expect her to look at me with anything other than disgust?

Evangeline was conversing with Matilda. Edmund could imagine that if they had been alone, the two sisters would have spoken quite differently. In reality, their conversation seemed stilted and formal in the present company.

Evangeline was even more beautiful up close, with a demure and quiet quality he found captivating.

She had pale skin, complimented by the ornate gown. About her shoulders was an array of beading and lace that seemed to reflect the light. It truly was as though he were looking upon an angel or some sort of ethereal fairy.

He dragged his gaze away, uncomfortable with his overactive imagination and searching for something to distract himself. His scars felt as though they were burning again. It was as if he were back in the house, flames leaping in every direction as he searched frantically for Adelaide. There was a tightness about his mouth, a fluttering in his chest, and if he closed his eyes, he could hear the crackle of the house burning all around him.

He shifted slightly, turning his face toward the wall, feeling as though every eye in the room was examining his scarred visage with renewed interest. His mother was speaking to Lord Longford further down the table, and for once, he longed for her to be at his side. The dowager countess was not the easiest woman to live with, but her steady presence always calmed him.

Were the walls closing in? It certainly felt like it.

Green-blue eyes turned to him, and Edmund could not even muster a smile for his new wife. Evangeline had an intelligent gaze, and to his surprise, he saw no pity in her expression. She seemed to be observing him without judgment—a rare skill in the society in which they lived.

“Lord Barstow,” Edmund flinched as Evangeline’s mother leaned across the table to speak to him. “We are so honoured to have you join our family. We look forward to becoming neighbours and we enjoy having you as a son-in-law.”

Edmund could not read the lady easily. Her sharp features, so similar to those of her daughters, were settled in an expression of casual intrigue. The room around them was humming with quiet voices, and Edmund found it hard to focus on anything.

“Mm,” he managed, clearing his throat. “I, too, am pleased to join your family,” he said, his voice low and hoarse. Even he could hear the lack of sincerity in his words.

“Will you travel to Barendale Manor today?” Evangeline’s mother asked.

“Yes,” he replied and could not think of anything else to say.

After a short pause, Lady Longford gave a tight smile. “I imagine it will be a relief to be out of town for a few weeks and back in the country. I find the build-up to the season rather trying.”

“Indeed,” he sounded like a mechanical precision. “You must visit us.”

Her eyebrows rose, and Edmund flexed his toes in his shoes to stop himself from grimacing. The offer was not easily given. In truth, he did not want any visitors. He just wished to hide away from the world and for all this bother and gossip to dissipate into nothing.

He longed to sit in his library with a book and while away the days alone, without having to make excuses for his miserable countenance.

But that was not to be. He was now a husband again and had a duty to his wife. Colin was right—he had not thought this through.

As the guests began to depart, Edmund’s anxiety reduced a little, but he was conscious that he had participated in just three conversations since the wedding—two with his new in-laws and one with his mother. He was being abominably rude, and he wasn’t surprised when Evangeline looked at him as though he were an unpredictable ogre.

My reputation is maintained, Edmund thought bitterly. No doubt her sister will call the constabulary to try and rescue Evangeline from my clutches.

He knew he should try to be more agreeable but was unable to muster a smile. He could barely make eye contact with Evangeline.

Perhaps it was for the best. After all, he could not imagine any positive outcomes from the marriage. She was now trapped and unable to escape.

He made his way to the carriage, feeling as though not just the walls of the house, but the very sky above his head, was closing in to crush him.

***

“Goodbye, Mama,” Evangeline said, hugging her mother tightly before letting her go. She was aware of her father hovering behind them. He did not deal with affection at the best of times, and today was no exception. Despite the fact that he was bidding his eldest daughter farewell for the final time that day, the time she was taking appeared to be grating on him.

Evangeline looked about her, amazed at the turn her life had taken. This had been her home, where she had grown into the woman she was today. She was surprised at how sad she felt to leave it.

She glanced at Edmund, who was standing behind her. The uninjured half of his face was on display, and she was reminded again of how handsome he was. His strict jaw and chiseled cheekbones gave him a regal look, but he did not meet her eyes. He had barely looked at her all day.

“Goodbye, Evie,” Matilda said beside her. She was valiantly holding back tears, and Evangeline was grateful for that. If her sister began crying, there would be no end to it.

“Goodbye,” she hugged her tightly, her arms gripping the familiar slim shoulders. “I shall write to you,” she whispered. “Every day.”

“If you need me, I will come to you,” Matilda said earnestly, just for her ears, and the two sisters drew apart. It was the worst farewell by far. Evangeline’s head throbbed as she looked into her sister’s blue eyes. She could not imagine a world where she did not see Matilda every morning. They were so close, and now they were to be separated by miles of countryside and barely able to see each other more than three times a year.

Evangeline felt hopeless and unhappy as her father stepped forward. His pompous face was set in a grim smile, and he nodded to her as though she had satisfactorily performed a task he had assigned to her.

“I am proud of you, my girl. Continue to make us proud. Our family will be the stronger for it.”

He did not embrace her, patting her shoulder awkwardly before turning to Edmund.

“I shall see to the matter of the dowry forthwith,” he said quietly, shaking the earl’s hand. Evangeline’s cheeks flamed, partly with embarrassment and partly with rage.

She felt like a prized stallion paraded before the discerning eyes of potential buyers. Nothing about this day had been anything like she had imagined. Evangeline had wanted her wedding to be a magical affair; even if she were not in love with her husband, she had thought at least she would be married in a church where all her friends could see her.

But no. She was in her own drawing room getting married. The same room her tutors had scolded her in about arithmetic. She had not exchanged more than two words with her new husband, and now she was leaving her family forever, all so that her father could make a name for himself.

Despite trying to hold it at bay, she felt truly resentful at that moment, and when she caught her mother’s eye, she knew that she shared her sentiments.

Evangeline had watched her parents' marriage throughout her life, and she knew there was no love between them. Her mother and father had married out of necessity, and they had not been happy even for a single day.

I would never have believed I would face the same fate, she thought despairingly.

As her father shook Edmund’s hand again, the earl’s jaw was tight, his eyes sharp and unkind as he nodded to him. Finally, he turned to Evangeline. He did not even look at her, offering her his arm just as he had after the wedding, and she had no choice but to take it.

***

Edmund breathed a sigh of relief as he settled himself in his carriage. They were finally able to go to Barendale Manor. Although it was the bane of his existence as it fell apart around his ears, he did love the place. He was glad that he would soon be back in the wide English countryside again and out of the horrors of town and the many eyes of those around him.

Evangeline’s maid would follow behind them with her belongings, and soon, she would be able to settle in the house herself. Edmund could only imagine what she must be thinking, and he did not want to dwell on it.

All I can do is to make her as comfortable as possible. I can reassure her that nothing is required of her and that she can live a free life as far as she is able.

He looked out of the window just before the carriage set off. Lord Longford had already gone back inside with Lady Longford, but Matilda stood on the steps. Now that she believed herself unobserved, the tears were flowing freely. She looked as though she was shaking with the force of her grief, and Edmund had to look away.

I am a selfish, fool to agree to this marriage. She is right to despise me; I despise myself.

His mother climbed into the carriage, the dowager countess sitting beside Evangeline. Those ocean-blue eyes were turned toward the window, stoically avoiding looking at her sister. Edmund would wager that she knew just how unhappy Matilda was at her departure, and as he looked at her more closely, Evangeline’s eyes were bright and sad.

As the carriage set off, Edmund could think of nothing to say. He had spent too long alone in the past three years to remember how to engage in small talk. What did one say to a woman one had just met? What did one say to one’s wife?

He glanced at his mother, who was watching him pityingly and felt his anger rise again. He wished that his life had turned out differently. It seemed abominably unfair. He and Adelaide had been happy enough, and he had never found any difficulty in speaking to her freely.

What on earth did we use to say to one another? Should I tell Evangeline she looks well in her dress? What do women of twenty years of age wish to speak of?

“The weather has turned out rather well,” his mother said brightly. “I think we shall have blue skies all the way to the manor. It is a very beautiful place, Evangeline; I believe you will like it.”

Edmund noted that his mother did not call Evangeline “Lady Barstow” or “Countess” but used her Christian name immediately. It appeared that his mother was trying to put his bride at ease. He was grateful for it as he seemed incapable of forming a single sentence in her presence.

“How far is the manor?” Evangeline asked. Her soft, polite voice was pleasing to Edmund’s ears. He could not imagine her ever losing her temper; she seemed so sensible and modest.

“I should think we will arrive there within two hours if the roads are suitable,” his mother continued. “Wouldn’t you say, Edmund?”

The dowager countess looked almost pleading as she met his gaze.

“Quite,” he managed. “About an hour and a half if we are lucky with London traffic.”

Evangeline turned back to the window. She did not look at him for several minutes, and Edmund was on edge and uncomfortable as the silence stretched between them.

“Your father tells me you play the piano and the harp,” his mother continued eventually. “We have a pianoforte in the manor. I am sure we can procure a harp for you if you so wish.”

At what cost? Edmund thought irritably.

“Oh, that is most kind, my Lady,” Evangeline said. “I do love to play the piano.”

“It’ll need tuning,” Edmund said gruffly, aware of the harsh quality of his voice. The last person who had played that piano was Adelaide.

He was surprised to find that the idea of Evangeline playing it did not bother him. He was more concerned that she would see the state of disrepair that the manor had reached.

Although he had tried his best to manage everything, his long recuperation and withdrawal from daily tasks had meant that his home was far more run down than it should have been. He was still picking up the pieces from the fire all these years later.

“Do you read, Evangeline?” his mother asked.

“I do. I adore reading,” she said enthusiastically, and her face suddenly became animated with excitement.

His mother looked at him imploringly, and Edmund cleared his throat.

“We have a library.” There was a long pause as the two women waited for him to continue. “It has many books.”

Evangeline’s expression fell, but after a few seconds, she forced a smile. “I am very pleased to hear it; I will make good use of it.”

“Mm,” Edmund hummed non-committally, and he heard his mother sigh.

This marriage is already a disaster.

***

As they travelled through the rolling hills toward the manor, Evangeline noticed that Edmund began to relax. The stiff posture he had maintained for the first thirty minutes of their journey slowly softened, and as his mother engaged him in idle conversation, he began to speak a little more.

His answers were still clipped and monosyllabic, but she at least heard him utter more than a few words together. He still seemed extremely tense, though he had relaxed in his seat. His jaw was rigid, his hands fixed by his side. When he did move, it was to clench his fingers around his seat so firmly that she saw the whites of his knuckles.

The dowager countess was friendly to her, which was encouraging. As the new lady of the house, Evangeline knew their positions were likely to clash in the near future. She remembered a story from her friend Sylvia that when she had gone to her new estate after her marriage, her mother-in-law had forbidden her from changing anything in the house for three years.

Evangeline wondered whether Edmund’s mother was merely being polite or if she genuinely wished to welcome her. She hoped it was the latter.

As she gazed out of the window at the landscape passing them by, she wondered what the house would be like. There had been many rumours that it had fallen to wrack and ruin after his first wife’s death. She hoped they were not true. She had always longed to run a successful household and had been taught much of what she needed to know from a young age.

Although her mother’s marriage was unhappy, Lady Longford had spared all the time she could to school her daughters in what would be expected of them once they were married. Evangeline was now very grateful for that tutelage. She felt that she was going to the manor with her eyes open and hoped that she would be able to do an admirable job in all of the tasks that were put to her.

“Have you been to Oxfordshire before?” the dowager asked.

“A few times. One of my acquaintances lives nearby, and my father’s estate is not too far from Barendale. He was very grateful for the lease of your land, my Lord. He is most eager to come hunting in the near future.”

Edmund only nodded.

Evangeline startled slightly as slim fingers slid across her own. The dowager countess gently took her hand from her lap and squeezed her palm as though in a show of solidarity. It was so unexpected that Evangeline felt the tears she had carefully kept at bay threaten to fall again.

She had not expected to find any affection in the lady, and to feel that she might be on her side was reassuring. Edmund’s eyes flickered to the movement. His expression appeared briefly hopeful until he looked out of the carriage window again.

He always kept his right side away from her as though he did not wish for her to see his scars. Evangeline had expected to feel repulsed by them but felt nothing of the kind. He could have been the most handsome man on earth, but his dismissive and cold demeanour would have made him entirely undesirable.

If the man believed his scars were the worst thing about him, he was sorely mistaken.