Page 5 of The Beast of Barendale Manor

A week after the wedding things had not improved.

Evangeline was at the breakfast table sitting in awkward silence. The dowager countess opposite her making polite conversation, but Edmund was largely ignoring them both, reading a letter over the top of his plate and not touching his food.

In the first few days after she had arrived, Evangeline and Edmund had only ever met at mealtimes. She had attempted on those occasions to make idle conversation with him, but it was of no use. Edmund would sit at the head of the table in silence, with a brooding expression on his face, and he would eat without conversing at all.

Evangeline had grown to dislike supper times, as the dowager countess preferred to eat smaller meals before bed and tended not to join them.

She quickly learned that Edmund's monosyllabic replies during the carriage ride were not unusual. In fact, it was almost impossible to get more than a "yes" or "indeed" out of him. She had, therefore, taken to saying nothing at all.

The one benefit of eating in relative silence was that it had allowed her to study him. She had discovered that he had a pleasant curl to his mouth when he was reading, and occasionally, she had seen a hint of a smile on his face.

His gray eyes were intense and direct, and when he looked at her, she felt as though she was the only person in the room. He had large hands and elegant fingers despite the scarring on one side. Evangeline had concluded that he was very interesting to look at. After all, she had had ample time to examine him of late.

“What about a ball?” the dowager countess said suddenly. Evangeline looked up from her plate of eggs in consternation as Lady Viola’s eyes alighted on her with excitement.

Edmund looked at his mother with an alarmingly angry expression. The dowager countess was not cowed by it, however, and cocked her head to one side as she contemplated her own suggestion.

“Would that not be a marvellous way to introduce Evangeline to your wider acquaintance?” she said enthusiastically.

At that point, some servants came to clear away the dishes, and there was a charged silence as they waited for them to depart. Edmund looked positively furious.

“What do you think, Edmund?” his mother asked happily.

“Such frivolity is unnecessary,” he said gruffly, placing the letter on the table and staring at his mother as though she had suggested he leap from the roof. “What would it be in aid of?”

Evangeline’s heart sank. The very notion that he should introduce her was evidently a foreign concept to her new husband. She wondered what he had done when Adelaide had been alive. She fantasized about an elaborate ball with the couple dancing in the centre, smiling and laughing with one another—impossibly happy and in love.

She picked up her teacup and silently sipped her tea.

“It is important to maintain our social standing, Edmund, and you cannot expect your wife to meet everyone individually. That could take months. She deserves to be presented as your new bride.”

“Mama,” Edmund said with exasperation. Evangeline hated the mask that slipped back into place as soon as he expressed any kind of feeling. She was desperate to know him, but he seemed determined to remain hidden from everyone but himself.

“Yes, Edmund,” the dowager continued patiently, “what possible objection could you have?”

There was a vein pulsing in Edmund’s temple, and he rubbed a hand over his forehead. “It is not that, I simply—”

“Because I would remind you that in three years, we have held no functions at all. You have told me repeatedly that you do not wish to be the stuff of gossip, and I promise you if you continue to hide away after you have just remarried, everyone will speak of it for years to come.”

She sat very straight in her chair, and with jerky, irritable movements, she picked up her teacup, sipping from it with a deep frown. However, when she looked over the rim at Evangeline, she gave a sly wink. Evangeline felt a jolt of joy at the sight. Lady Viola was bringing her into her confidence, and it was nice to feel that at least one member of the household was on her side—even if her husband appeared not to be.

“Mama, there are other things to consider,” Edmund continued. “The house is still in disrepair. We will be able to make reasonable changes by the autumn and perhaps then—”

“The autumn? Edmund, the season will be over by then. That is quite ridiculous. No, it must be soon if we are to hold one at all.”

She gave him a glare when he opened his mouth as though to protest further, and he closed it again, looking murderous. Edmund ground his teeth, his shoulders tense. Then, with a long sigh, he leaned back in his chair, looking altogether human as he acquiesced to his mother’s request.

“Fine,” he bit out, “but I am not inviting the whole county.”

“Whoever said anything about that?” she asked waspishly, but Edmund had already risen to his feet. He threw down his napkin, picked up the letter, and stalked out of the room.

It was only then that the stern facade faltered, and his mother looked regretful. She sighed and glanced at Evangeline who attempted to reassure her with a smile.

“Are you finished with breakfast?” the dowager asked.

“I am, thank you.”

“Come, we shall repair to the morning room together. It is the brightest room in the house, and it will lift my spirits to look out onto the rose garden.”

The two women rose as the shadows of servants detached themselves from the walls and came forward. Evangeline had met with the housekeeper and the butler that week, but she did not feel as though she had embraced her new duties as well as she might.

Both had been extremely pleasant to speak to, but they had also reassured her that everything in the house had a set routine, and it didn’t seem that her interference was appreciated. She hated feeling useless and was determined to try again the following week.

As they entered the morning room, Lady Barstow closed the door behind her with a click, and they were alone. Evangeline wondered whether she might have done something wrong, or perhaps the lady would admonish her for not speaking up more at mealtimes.

Instead, the lady indicated the striped settee before the fire, and Evangeline sat down. The dowager countess came to sit beside her with a heavy sigh, looking at her earnestly.

“You must not lose heart, my dear,” she said firmly. “I know that my son can be difficult to understand, but he is a good man.” She hesitated, looking at Evangeline out of the corner of her eye. “Do you know of what became of his first wife?”

Evangeline tensed but shook her head. “All I have heard are vicious rumours I do not believe.”

The dowager countess patted the back of her hand, looking relieved. “He is very fortunate in his wife, I think. Many would believe the rumours—indeed, many do.”

There was a long silence, and then Lady Barstow began speaking again.

“There was a terrible fire,” she said, looking into the flames in the hearth as though seeing it in her mind's eye. “Edmund woke late, and the ceilings were already thick with smoke. He ran from his room to Adelaide’s bed chamber, but the fire had already engulfed it. We still do not know what made the first spark, but he has always believed a candle in her room must have ignited. Her bed chamber was black with smoke.”

The lady sighed, letting go of Evangeline’s hand, and stood up, beginning to pace.

“Edmund was frantic. He barged through the door to her room, hoping that she had already escaped, but she was unconscious on the bed. He ran forward just as the flames leaped up all around him. The fire was vicious and angry, and he could not do much but lift Adelaide out of the room. Even that left him horribly burned. His skin the next day was like nothing I have ever seen.”

She stopped as Evangeline held her breath.

“The scars on his face and neck were the physical consequence of what happened to him, but the internal consequences run far deeper. Edmund has always blamed himself for her death.”

Her eyes glistened with tears as she turned to Evangeline and returned to the settee.

“He withdrew from society completely. At first, it was because he was badly injured and recovering from the grief of losing his wife. But afterward, when the rumours and the vicious slander began, the cruelty he endured was beyond anything I have since witnessed.”

“I have lived a privileged life, Evangeline. You will know better than I how fickle society can be for the slightest misstep. I do not know who began the rumour that Edmund had set the fire himself, wishing to do away with Adelaide, but whoever it was ruined my son for many years since. He was devastated that anyone would believe that of him. Edmund was the darling of society when he was younger, you see. Handsome, clever, and rich, he wanted for nothing. He had endless friends, and everyone wished to share in his company.

“It was too cruel that so many turned their backs on him in such a way. It was a great shock to him to finally see the two faces that society possesses. If you are in favour, the world will bow to you, but one mistake—”

“And they turn away without a second thought,” Evangeline murmured. The two women looked at one another, and there was a world of understanding in their eyes.

“I beg you to be patient with him,” Lady Viola continued. “He is a kind and caring man; he merely needs to remember who he used to be. I know he has barely spoken to you since the wedding, but it will come. He will remember who he is and realise how lucky he is to have you in his life.”

Evangeline wanted to trust that she was right, but she could not believe that Edmund would ever truly be grateful for her presence. He seemed uninterested in her existence, and she could not think of a time or an occasion when that would change.

“It is partly why I have insisted on the ball—he still has many friends in society but has lost touch with those who tried to maintain their acquaintance with him. You deserve to meet them and begin your marriage as a success. “The Dowager Countess smiled ruefully. “I was so worried that you might be very outspoken, very burdensome. But you are the opposite, and I mean that as nothing but a compliment. Your gentle manners and kindness will be what he needs. I know it. I am certain of it.”

Evangeline squeezed the dowager’s hand tightly, giving her a reassuring smile, trying to show on her face feelings she did not possess in her heart.

She is wrong, he will never want me. In fact, he openly seems to dislike me. All I can do is what she has asked.

But she had little hope that she would succeed.

***

Edmund slammed through his study door, shoving it closed behind him with such force that it reverberated through the whole house.

A ball? Had the woman entirely lost her senses?

“No,” he spat to the room at large. “You have not been honest with your own mother, and therefore, she does not understand we cannot afford a ball!”

He slammed his palm into the mantelpiece, wincing at the pain and breathing heavily. As he stepped back from the hearth, his father’s familiar face looked down on him from the portrait above the fireplace.

The previous earl of Barendale had been a pillar of his local community, revered amongst everyone he knew. Edmund once prided himself on continuing his legacy, mingling with the highest echelons of society and regularly travelling to the local villages. His desk had positively overflowed with invitations to balls and dances and letters of thanks from his tenants.

Now it was empty.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as Croft rapped on the door to admit Jonathan into the room. His steward bowed as he entered, the door closing behind him with a snap.

Edmund was immediately reminded why he had summoned the man, and his mood blackened even further.

“It is quite intolerable,” he barked, walking to his desk where the sheaves of papers lay. He had brought everything with him, including the account summaries from Timmons, and they were now outstretched across his desk. “I am not a foolish man, yet I can make no sense of anything.”

He looked up as Jonathan remained by the door, his hands placed carefully before him.

“Good morning, my Lord,” he said gently. “As you know, I have returned from several days at your Yorkshire estate and wish to congratulate you on your wedding.”

Edmund stopped sifting over the documents in front of him and stood up, giving a great sigh. He ran a hand over his eyes and straightened his shirt sleeves before he forced his shoulders to relax.

“Good morning, Brown,” he said softly, giving a repentant smile. “My apologies, I am also intolerable, it would seem.”

Jonathan’s gentle chuckle only made Edmund feel worse. The man was eminently patient and had always given Edmund far more leeway than anyone else when his moods turned sour.

“Is all well with the countess?” Jonathan asked, coming into the room and standing before the desk. Despite the practicalities of his job, he was always perfectly turned out, his long brown hair tied behind his head in a neat ponytail and a loosened cravat around his neck.

Edmund hesitated before answering the question. In truth, to his shame, he had no notion of how Evangeline was. He was terrified to even speak to her, convinced she must be utterly miserable in a half-ruined house with an absent, monstrous husband for company.

“She is well,” he lied as Jonathan gave him a quizzical look.

“Have you had any rest at all since the wedding?” his steward asked.

“I do not need to rest. I need to get to the bottom of what is happening with my finances,” Edmund said, his ire returning in seconds as he picked up the papers and brandished them at Jonathan wildly. “Hundreds of pounds seem to have disappeared and there is a great deficit in the funds for the house repairs. Even with the dowry we will still struggle to plug this gap. I cannot understand where it has come from.”

“May I, my Lord?” Jonathan held out his hand and took a seat opposite the desk.

Edmund collapsed back in his chair, feeling desperate and worried. He handed the summaries to Jonathan without much hope. Looking at everything over the last week had certainly informed him of where the problems lay, but he could not understand why they existed.

Jonathan’s brow furrowed as he read over the papers. He was a wiry, tall man with a thin, handsome face. When Edmund had first met him, he had worried that the man was malnourished, but he had since seen Jonathan on many occasions, and he consistently carried food with him. He seemed to be perpetually eating or speaking of his garden, where he grew all manner of vegetables.

His sharp, green eyes were scanning the document with interest as he leaned back in the chair. Edmund looked down at his own hands, that rested on piles and piles of bills, all of which had become a jumble in his mind. He clenched his right hand, examining the lattice of scars that ran across his fingers and down over his palm. He hated the sight of it.

“I have my own recommendations here, my Lord,” Jonathan said, pulling a thick envelope from his pocket and handing it over. “These are specific to the grounds and the money we would need to rejuvenate some of the areas that have fallen into disrepair. I wondered if you might wish to replace some of the rose bushes in the gardens.”

Edmund swallowed. The rose garden had been Adelaide’s pride and joy. He had not been able to go in there for years.

“It would certainly bring back some of the colour to that portion of your grounds and is a lovely aspect from the drawing room,” Jonathan added.

Edmund nodded. “Perhaps. We shall see how things progress with the repairs. Thank you for this,” he said, holding up the envelope, and for the next few minutes, the two men read through the information before them.

After a short while, Jonathan sat back in his chair with a frown.

“You are right, my Lord, there is something odd about this.”

“How do you mean?” Edmund asked, leaning forward in his chair.

“It may be nothing; perhaps all the costs have increased, and we are merely seeing the pain of that, but my instinct says it could be something else. The first year this happened, we made arrangements to rectify some of the changes—”

“I do not think it is fair to say ‘we’ did anything. I was incapacitated and entirely useless.”

Jonathan was quiet and then levelled Edmund with a long stare. “My Lord, you had lost your wife and were badly injured. It is hardly surprising that you needed to recuperate.” Edmund scoffed, but Jonathan’s eyes remained fixed on his face. “You must not blame yourself, my Lord.”

“Well, I do,” Edmund snapped. “If I had paid more attention to things, perhaps we would not be in this mess.”

“That is what I am getting at, my Lord. The first year, we attempted to rectify the deficit, but the problem has got worse over the last two years, not better. True, we have had to spend more, particularly in the parts of the estate where we have suffered from poachers, but that should not create this kind of problem. I would like your permission to investigate further. I shall share my findings with you as weekly reports.”

“Thank you, Brown, I would appreciate that. At least with the dowry, we have enough to fund the repairs to the house.”

“That is good news, my Lord. Will you restore the east wing?”

“I shall,” Edmund said with determination.

The idea of walking through those blackened halls again filled him with dread, but at the same time there was a part of him that finally felt ready to embark upon the task. He was not sure if it was partly due to Evangeline. He wanted her to be able to make her own mark on the house.

An idea formed in his mind as he contemplated the work that would need to be done, and he nodded to himself. Evangeline had sacrificed much to come and live with him, and perhaps as the new Countess, the east wing could be something he gave to her to mould in her image.

It is her money that means I am able to embark on these repairs. It is only right that she should have a say in how the house improves.

“Very good, my Lord,” Jonathan said, standing up and smoothing his coat as he did so. “I shall be sure you keep your apprised of everything I discover. Please do the same if there is anything you feel I should know.”

“Thank you, Brown, how was the Yorkshire estate?” His steward smiled; Edmund knew he loved visiting the lakes on his way up.

“Excellent, my Lord. The gardens are looking very beautiful, I am eager to mirror them here.”

Edmund smiled. “And how is your vegetable garden?”

Jonathan chuckled. “I knew you only kept me on for my tomatoes.”

Edmund watched the warmth come into his friend’s eyes. “I do enjoy testing them for you. They are far better than the ones we buy from the market. I feel I am robbing you every time.”

“Perhaps I should charge you a few shillings for them,” Jonathan said with a wry smile.

“You should. I give you enough grief to warrant it. I hope you know how grateful I am for all your help.”

“I am happy to do it, my Lord. You know that.”

“I do. But I am grateful all the same.”

His steward left the room chuckling. Edmund returned to the mountain of papers on his desk, the anxiety returning as he looked at the endless numbers, scuttling like hundreds of black spiders across the pages.

Perhaps he had been given a reprieve with Longford’s money, but it would not solve anything if he could not ascertain the cause of his problems.

***

Evangeline wandered the corridors of Barendale Manor, feeling out of place and at a loss for what to do with herself. The servants seemed to regard her with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. She was painfully aware that Sarah was struggling with how the house was run, and her cheerful maid was yet to make a single friend amongst the staff.

Despite knowing a great deal about how to manage and run a house, Evangeline did not feel as though her ideas or thoughts were welcome. Many of the maids scuttled out of sight upon seeing her. She felt like a ghost in her own home.

As she walked down one of the long corridors, with high windows on her left and a marble floor beneath her feet, her eyes strayed to the gardens.

Some parts that were closer to the house had been maintained fairly well, but without proper investment in a fleet of ground staff it could not be maintained sufficiently.

As she walked to the final part of the corridor, entering a chequered gallery with beautiful tapestries all over the walls, she saw a doorway leading outside ahead of her.

She approached it and found it to be unlocked. The day outside was mild enough, if a little clammy, and she did not think she needed to trouble a servant to fetch her coat.

She ventured out into the cold morning, her feet crunching over the gravel as she walked through the meandering paths about the estate. Many had weeds growing through them and had fallen into disuse. She longed to see them restored to their former glory.

The plants were strung out, needing to be cut back to allow them to fully nourish themselves. She had often tended the roses at their country seat with her mother and she could immediately recognize that they were good specimens but had simply been ignored for too long.

She walked beneath the arch of the rose garden and saw a dozen or so roses in the beds. The walls that enclosed the gardens were dark and covered with ivy, but it had clearly been a beautiful place years before.

She approached one of the larger bushes that had crept out of the confines of the bed and entangled itself with its neighbour. Although neglected, there were many flowers in the vicinity, a riot of deep reds and pale pinks as the roses nodded their heads at her in the gentle breeze.

She lifted one of the rose heads to smell the bloom and was enveloped in a gentle scent that made her smile. She missed her mother and sister, and the smell brought them a little closer to her.

As she released the flower, the entangled stem dislodged from a larger part of the neighbouring bush, and suddenly, a whip-like line of thorns tugged itself free and landed viciously against her hand. She sucked in a breath letting out a small cry of pain even as she turned at the sound of thundering footsteps and saw Edmund charging toward her with a look like thunder.