Page 6 of The Beast of Barendale Manor

Edmund had watched Evangeline walk into the gardens from his study window. As she had approached Adelaide’s roses, he had felt an overwhelming urge to tell her never to go into the gardens again.

The only thing he could see amongst the rose bushes was Adelaide’s smile and knowing glances as he asked her what kind of roses she would plant next. Watching Evangeline in the same space felt strange and unpleasant.

But as he had left the manor and followed her, he had seen the thorns strike at her hand and draw blood. The instant protectiveness that he felt was alarming in its intensity, and as she turned in surprise, he could not conjure the words of reproach he had intended to say.

Looking into those beautiful, wide eyes, he felt unable to say anything at all. Her right hand was streaked with blood, and Edmund pulled his handkerchief from his pocket, wrapping it around the wound immediately.

He only recognized that he was touching her when she sucked in a sharp breath. Her gaze turned soft as she looked at his fingers cradling her own. Even Edmund was surprised at the tenderness of the gesture and the powerful need he felt to protect her from harm.

The scent of the roses enveloped them, and Edmund gazed at Evangeline's radiant face in awe of her beauty. Evangeline had a quiet strength, a determination, and a drive that was very different from Adelaide’s vivacity.

Their eyes locked and held as Edmund found that he could not pull away from her. He watched the blood bloom in tiny dots all over his handkerchief. Evangeline’s full lips were slightly parted, her eyelashes kissing her cheek as she looked down at her injury in apparent surprise.

Edmund’s thumb gently brushed against the base of her palm, and Evangeline’s breath trembled as it did so.

No sooner had it happened, however, than the spell was broken at the loud crunching of wheels across the driveway behind them. Immediately, Edmund felt his walls slam back into place, wondering how he could have allowed himself to act in such a manner. He had intended to tell Evangeline in no uncertain terms that the rose garden was off limits, yet he could not do it.

Turning, he saw Colin approaching them, having just stepped down from his carriage. He entered the rose garden with a wide grin that made Edmund’s jaw clench in irritation.

“Good morning, Lord and Lady Barstow!” Colin called enthusiastically.

“Colin,” Edmund managed, still feeling shaken at the spark that had ignited in the air between Evangeline and him. “To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Colin grinned. “I have come to stay!” he said, gripping Edmund’s hand and shaking it vigorously. “I have been preoccupied by your troubles, my friend, and I wish to help,” Colin continued in a low voice.

Edmund turned to Evangeline and bowed, throwing out an arm to show Colin into the house. He was glad of the distraction and could hardly refuse the man’s help when his situation was so dire.

His mind was a whirlwind of worries and guilty imaginings, and he refused to believe that the soft understanding in Evangeline’s eyes had been anything but pity.

***

Dinner that night was a stilted and unpleasant affair. After their encounter in the gardens Edmund was unsure how to act around Evangeline. The site of the scarring on the back of her hand made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. Anything that marred that perfect skin felt foreign to him. He wanted to fix it.

“And how do you like Barendale Manor, Lady Barstow?” Colin asked. He was rather far into his cups already, and Edmund was surprised at the volume of wine the man had drunk. He was acting strangely, but then, he was an odd man.

“I like it very much,” Evangeline said in that slow, measured tone. “The grounds are beautiful.”

Edmund chewed his food, keeping his eyes on the table. Does she think I acted oddly in the rose garden, I wonder?

“They used to be far grander,” Colin said with a hiccough, “and we will be working to ensure they befit their new Countess.”

Evangeline’s eyes were wary of Colin, but she smiled at him, glancing uncertainly at Edmund, and he quickly looked down at his place.

Her hair was tied up in a beautiful bun today, with twisted ringlets on either side of her face. She looked elegant and untouchable in comparison to him. He imagined an artist’s rendering of them all sitting at dinner. Colin would be the clown, and Evangeline the fairy, whilst he would sit at the top of the table, a dragon over his hoard of gold, breathing fire across the company.

“My favourite room is the library,” Evangeline continued, surprising him.

“Ah yes, Edmund is very fond of his books,” Colin said—it did not sound like a compliment.

“Are you, my Lord?” Evangeline asked, turning to Edmund, whose heart picked up speed as her eyes fell upon him.

“I do,” he replied shortly, taking a sip of his own wine. Evangeline was not deterred by his brevity, however, and continued with much enthusiasm, just as she had in the carriage.

“I am very fond of reading. My father disliked poetry and I was never permitted to read any, but my mother would purchase copies for me to read in private. I was most pleased to see you have almost all of Lord Byron’s works, my Lord. Your collection is very impressive. I have never had the pleasure of reading Wordsworth before. I adore Keats and Byron. I am excited to discover more.”

Edmund watched her bright eyes as she spoke of it. Her cheeks were beautifully flushed with enthusiasm. He was rather more partial to a book on history himself, but her excitement was contagious. He found himself fantasizing about a day when perhaps Evangeline might read a poem to him. Maybe they would sit together in the library, and she would lean against his legs as she read before the fire.

But she never will, a voice said at the back of his mind. Don’t be a fool.

Her beauty was so evident in that moment that Edmund sat back in his chair, hoping that the darkness would eclipse his face. The movement must have indicated a lack of interest to Evangeline, however, and soon, to Edmund’s dismay, she fell silent, and they were left with Colin’s inane chatter. When she eventually excused herself, Edmund felt guilt swamp him.

I simply do not know what to say to her; I am tongue-tied whenever she looks at me.

After supper, the two men moved to the study.

“What will you do with the majority of the money?” Colin asked, belching loudly as Edmund handed him a small measure of brandy. The man had had quite enough to drink already.

“I will use it for the repairs,” he replied.

“But ten thousand pounds is an enormous sum. Have you considered an investment? There is much to be said for increasing the money over time.”

“There is much to do.”

“Of course, old boy, but the entirety cannot be put on the estate’s restoration. I would be happy to enquire after some investments if you should wish me to. There is a great deal of money to be made in coal—I have heard of a man who bought a tiny little pile in Durham and has made his fortune. Of humble origins yet earning substantial sums, there is much to be gained from maintaining a keen ear to the ground.”

“I shall consider it,” he conceded, although his mind was elsewhere. He could not shake the image of Evangeline reading to him in the library. It was not until that moment that he had considered that he had a new wife . Someone who he might share his life with.

He had been pushing Evangeline as far from him as he could, and he was under no illusions that she would ever care for him. But friendship also bore affection, and when he thought of her intelligence and openness, he wondered whether they might ever grow close to one another in a different way.

“Think of what you could do to the east wing,” Colin insisted. “All of those rooms that have been shut up where the bulk of the fire began can be reopened. The roof can be repaired, and you will be able to have your manor back to how it was.”

With Evangeline’s money, Edmund thought anxiously. Spending every penny of her dowry on restoring Adelaide’s old rooms to their former glory.

“Not to mention the grounds and what you can do to the gardens. They have quite withered since I was here last. The summer is approaching us. It would be good to see flowers blooming out of the windows again, would it not?”

I wonder if Evangeline enjoys flowers. I did not expect to like seeing her walking among the roses.

“Edmund?”

“I shall consider it,” he said, and after that, his cousin fell silent for a long time.

***

Evangeline sat before her dressing table and watched Sarah brush through her hair. She liked it when it was down and shimmering in the firelight.

Her bedchamber was very beautiful and just to her taste. It had been decorated in white and green with a magnificent four-poster bed and wide fireplace.

The crackle of the flames was a comfort, as Sarah hummed gently behind her. Evangeline stared at her reflection, noting the paleness of her skin. The early spring days were doing nothing for her complexion, and the clammy misty mornings had left her hands dry and unpleasant each time she woke.

The house had a strange atmosphere to it. Although she thought it very beautiful, the number of rooms that were closed to her and the east wing being entirely shut off made it feel cold and unwelcoming when she went in that direction.

“Was there any more discussion of the ball, my Lady?” Sarah asked softly. She was a quiet girl, and suited Evangeline very well. Neither of them had ever raised their voice in the other’s company, and Sarah was the most loyal person Evangeline had ever met.

Her lady’s maid had been quite concerned when they had first arrived and remained so at times. Sarah was not enamoured with Edmund and thought him snobbish.

“Edmund has agreed to it,” Evangeline replied. “Although, I am uncertain if it is what he really wants.”

“And what do you want, my Lady? It would certainly be a diverting activity for you. You cannot spend every day in the library.”

Evangeline gave her a knowing smile. “I would not mind that.”

Sarah chuckled. “Do you know what you might wear?”

“I believe I shall order a new dress. I wish to look elegant and uphold my title as countess.”

“You have never looked anything else, my Lady,” Sarah insisted, handing her the hairbrush as she finished combing through the long strands. “How is your hand?”

Evangeline looked down at the back of her hand, where long scratches had marred the skin. “It is healing, I am sure. It was nothing, really.”

Sarah nodded and busied herself with clearing away Evangeline’s clothing from that day and turning down the bed. Evangeline remained where she was, lost in thought, looking down at her hand and thinking of the intensity she had seen in Edmund’s eyes that afternoon.

It had been a strange moment. She had thought he was furious with her, charging toward her, looking quite frightening, his brooding, scarred face all the more stark in the daylight. Evangeline could not deny that a thrill had passed through her at the sight of him. He had a broad, strong figure and long legs that had effortlessly eaten up the distance between them.

Evangeline was ashamed to admit she had thought of other occasions when he might advance on her like that but with passion in his eyes instead of anger. She shook her head, trying to dispel the strange thought and moving her reflections to what had happened at dinner.

The main preoccupation she experienced that evening was Colin's presence. The man made her very uneasy, and she could not fathom why. He was all affable gentility when he was with them, and Edmund had invited him to stay, so they must have got on well enough. But it was the man’s smile she did not like. She had observed him throughout the dinner, and he had been grinning and laughing all the way through, but it never reached his eyes.

Sometimes, when she had observed him without his knowledge, his gaze had seemed almost calculating. It was as though he were measuring every move he made carefully to achieve something, but she could not think what it was.

As she rose to get into bed there was a gentle knock at the door. Sarah turned to her, surprised, and Evangeline had a sudden jolt of fear mixed with excitement that Edmund had come to be with her. She knew a little of the marriage bed between a man and a woman, but so far, he had not even attempted to come to her rooms.

With her head a storm of uncertainties, she watched Sarah move to the door and open it. There was a hushed conversation, and then Sarah closed it again, turning to her with two books in her hand.

Sarah’s eyes were bright with excitement as she approached.

“Lord Barstow has sent you two books of poetry, my Lady,” she said with a grin. “Mr Croft just delivered them on the earl’s instruction.”

Evangeline’s heart beat wildly as she looked at the books. They were both by William Wordsworth, the very poet she had mentioned at supper. Poems in Two Volumes and Lyrical Ballads. She looked at Sarah, who was still smiling and could not help returning it.

“I mentioned that I had not read his poetry yet and that I was looking forward to doing so.”

“Well,” Sarah said, her eyes softening a great deal, “perhaps he is not quite so pompous as I first thought, my Lady.”

“Sarah,” she admonished with a hiss, but the maid just chuckled.

“I shall leave you to your reading then, my Lady. Good night, and I hope you sleep soundly.”

“Thank you, Sarah.”

As she climbed into bed, the bedpan warming her toes, she placed one of the books on the side beneath the candelabra.

The light flickered over the leather-bound volume in her hand, and she traced the names with her fingers. She was not sure what to make of it but was touched that he had paid attention to her comments at supper. He looked so disinterested most of the time that it was hard to know when he was listening and when he was not.

She nestled down into the thick covers, opened the book, and began to read, her mind conjuring images of Edmund as she did so. He had thought of her and sent her something that she would enjoy. She smiled to herself, feeling warmth bloom through her chest.

Perhaps he is not as indifferent as he seems.