Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

“ J ames, I worried you would not arrive home in time to dress for the party.” Eleanor crossed the room and went up on the tips of her toes to kiss him on the cheek. “You are soaked through.”

His mother stepped forward, taking in his disheveled clothing and harassed features. “A hot bath should set you right. Run on up to your bedchamber, and I will send for your valet.”

James placed one hand under Eleanor’s chin, tipping her head up so he could look into her eyes. He knew what life would be without her, and he dared not approach such a fate again.

His voice was low, his throat dry. “Have I ever told you about the day I decided to marry you?”

Eleanor shook her head, an amused expression mingled with worry crossing her features. “I wish to know everything, James. But if you do not dress for the party, you will be late to greet our guests.”

“You were sixteen and had yet to enter Society. I was sitting in the pew waiting for church services to start when you entered the Dove pew dressed in a white frock with lavender flowers embroidered upon the bodice. It was the first time your hair had been pinned atop your head. You were beautiful with long dark tresses down your back, but with it in a coiffure, you became a lady. You met my gaze, took in my appearance, and instead of greeting me as a young lady should, you pointed to my chest and told me my cravat needed straightening. I knew in that moment I would one day request your hand in marriage.”

Eleanor leaned into him. The scent of peppermint oil filled his senses, promising to linger for hours yet in his memory. He didn’t know why he’d decided to share this information with her. He’d never spoken of that day to anyone. Not even his friends knew the depths of his love for Eleanor Dove, but he had loved her from that moment on.

“I was terribly nervous that day. My hair had never felt so light, and I was concerned the pins would somehow fall from the coiffeur, allowing strands of hair to flop upon my shoulders. I had no idea you had taken notice of me. If I had, I wouldn’t have been so bold. I likely would have fumbled with a curtsey and the perfect greeting, nothing so rude as insulting your cravat.”

James chuckled. “How could I not have noticed the sweet little girl who’d sat in the pew next to my family all my life had blossomed into a beauty. A man would have had to be blind not to notice you.”

“I love you too, James.”

James kissed the top of her head before he backed away from her. It would not be appropriate for him to kiss her any longer, knowing that once his ruin was public knowledge, their engagement would have to end.

His mother stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm. “James, are you quite well? You look altered.”

He was altered. Never to be the same again, now that he knew his future would not be joined with Eleanor’s. His chest no longer burned with the pleasure and anticipation of making her his wife. It was now heavy with the greatest of regret for allowing himself to be lost in love. He would have preferred to never have known such abiding admiration for a woman than to have it ripped away from him twice in one lifetime.

“I need a moment, Mama.” He couldn’t destroy the happiness of those he loved. Rushing out of the ballroom, James considered taking the heirlooms he’d gathered in his den to the nearest shop to see what price they would bring, but it was late in the afternoon. The shops would be closed for the celebrations to come.

“Mr. Bailey, I sent for your valet. He will meet you in your chambers.” Bishop pointed to the stairs as though he expected James to obey.

James held up his hand, staying the preparations for a bath. Hauling water up the back staircase was not necessary. “I must go into town once more. Do tell my mother and Miss Dove once I have left, that I will return shortly.”

Bishop bit the side of his cheek before nodding his head. “Very good, sir.”

James had to try to sell the most valuable of his items. He ran back to the den and took the pocket watch off the desk. The watch had belonged to his third great grandfather. It was in pristine condition, never having been taken out of the box as it had been purchased as a symbol of their family status.

James tucked the box into his coat pocket and left the house before anyone could question the purpose of his trip to the village. The watch would fetch a higher price in London, but the storm raging in this part of England would not allow for easy travel. A man would have to be running from capture or absolutely insane to travel far from home this time of year.

Although he was exhausted, James ran the distance, weary and near collapse when he reached the local jeweler, but to his dismay, the shop was dark, as it had already closed for the night.

In that moment, as he looked from one place of business to the next, the lack of candlelight and the stillness of the snow falling around him, he had one option left. There was only one person in Emerald Falls who had the money he needed that night. He turned to the east. Much to his dismay, it seemed the Duke of Rothes was his last hope.

Kenneth Castle towered over the quaint village of Emerald Falls, the turrets standing empty of guards, but only because it was a frivolous expense to hire an army when there was little to no chance of an invasion. A moat surrounded the large edifice, allowing for visitors to cross a bridge to enter the walls.

The castle was magnificent, a centerpiece upon the rolling hills overlooking Emerald Falls. It was a pity Rothes rarely welcomed visitors. James knew it was likely Rothes would refuse him entrance, but he had to ask for help. If not from Rothes, there was no other option.

His final hope that night would be to bury the old arguments and reach out to the friend from his childhood. The one he had known before he had left for Eton. The one with whom he had run through the fields and explored caves, long before he had been consigned to a Bath chair.

It took the last bit of strength he had to push himself up the hill, but James found himself standing on the doorstep to the castle. He smoothed his hair back, brushing snowflakes onto the porch as he lifted the knocker and hit it against the plate three times.

“Is His Grace at home to visitors?”

The butler moved to the side as he accepted James’s card. The little card was soaked through, his frock coat and waistcoat soaking up the snow instead of repelling it as his greatcoat would have done.

Placing the very wet card upon the silver platter, the butler did little to hide his disdain for James’s current presentation. He stepped forward in the vestibule to look at his reflection in the looking glass. He was haggard in appearance, looking more like a vagrant than the gentleman he was. He tried to smooth out his hair, but it was too far gone, and he would need a brush to make it right.

“His Grace will see you in the den.” The butler walked in front of him, leading the way. James could have found the room on his own. He’d been to Kenneth Castle many times over the years.

Rothes sat in his Bath chair, his valet behind him ready to do his bidding should he need anything. The smile of pleasure on Rothes’s face was more frightening than welcoming. “Bailey, this is a surprise. Do you not have an extravagant evening planned for Epiphany?”

James didn’t wait to be offered a seat. He stepped forward and sat before his legs gave out. “Your Grace, I am in dire need of your assistance.”

“Yes, I have heard of your situation. The rumors around the village are almost unbelievable, yet your appearance suggests there is more truth to them than I first believed.”

His head came up, confused at how the duke would already know. But then again, the duke knew everything that happened in Emerald Falls. Nothing escaped his notice. “Then you are aware that my account has been drained. I need eight thousand pounds before the morrow.”

“A tidy sum.” Rothes tapped his fingers against the desk, a smile brightening his austere features. “What assurances do I have that you will pay back such a large amount?”

“I will retrench. Cut all frivolous expenses and only incur what I can pay out of my purse.”

Rothes laughed. “Retrench? It will take much more than that to get yourself out of trouble. You may need eight thousand by morning, but what of the debts to local merchants? The modiste alone has extended credit far beyond what you can pay.”

“I am in a tight spot.” James touched the pocket that held the watch. He would willingly sell it to Rothes, or trade it for the help. But first, he hoped to rekindle the friendship that once had been. “Your Grace, I implore you to consider our friendship from long ago.”

Rothes shook his head as he waved his hand to stop James from speaking. “What friendship? Do you mean the time we spent together in our youth? We were not friends, Bailey. Friends do not allow each other to fall.”

“Neither of us remember the details of that day. I only know we were both curious to find the treasures held within the cave.”

“Yes, but I am the one who did not walk away from it.” He motioned to the Bath chair.

“You landed poorly when you jumped, Ben. I did nothing to cause your injuries.”

“I believe you have forgotten your manners, Bailey.”

James nodded, instantly humbled. “I apologize, Your Grace.”

The duke sat back, steepling his hands under his chin. “I am in a giving mood this evening. I will provide the eight thousand pounds you so desperately need, but not as a loan. I want property in trade.”

Sitting forward, the burden James had carried most of the day started lifting from his shoulders. “Yes, of course. We can work out a deal to extend your property line on the east side of Granville.”

“Not that property.”

“It makes the most sense, since it is the area adjoining our land. ”

Rothes’s smile lifted to show the stark white of his teeth. “I want the tenant farms.”

“The farms?” The hope of seconds before instantly evaporated as he fell backward against the hard chair. “I could not possibly sell the farms.”

“Look at you, Bailey. A pathetic weasel of a man who cannot even keep his estate ledgers straight. You recently told me I was a bitter fool who refused to let go of the past, but now you sit here begging me for money, and you do not have the intelligence to take a handout when it is given to you. Those farms aren’t worth eight thousand pounds, but I am ready to pay a tidy sum—a sum which will keep you out of debtor’s prison—and you will not jump at the opportunity to save yourself. You are more a fool than I thought.”

Was he a fool? James couldn’t honestly disagree with that assertion. It had been foolish of him to fully trust his secretary with the finances. It had been wrong of him to sign documents without reviewing them first, and he would pay the price for his choices. But he would not condemn the good people who had trusted him with their lives to the rents and fees Rothes charged his own tenants.

“Please, Your Grace, consider the land that borders your estate. It would be much more profitable for you to have that section of property.”

Rothes chuckled under his breath, a throaty sound that made his frail frame shake. “Why have you come to me? What about your friends, Daniel Kaye, Alfred Deane, and Robert Cratchit? Can they not give you the money to free yourself from this debt?”

James shook his head. “They do not have the funds.”

Rothes nodded. “Too shameful. It is your pride that will not allow you to tell your friends of this error in judgment. Or perhaps it is because those friends of yours would laugh in your face and turn you away.”

Touching his pocket, James extracted the watch. “Instead of land, would you consider an antique pocket watch as collateral for a loan?”

Rothes burst into laughter. He tapped his cane against the desk, the thrill of besting James and denying him of the funds in his greatest hour of need igniting a passion rarely seen within the duke.

Realizing there was no chance of obtaining the money, James attempted to find the strength to leave, but his legs wobbled like the expertly molded gelatin dishes his cook had prepared over the years. His attempt didn’t go unnoticed, which only caused Rothes to laugh once more.

“The most generous thing you can do for your mother and poor Miss Dove is to die. Do what you must to catch a feverish illness. Pneumonia has been prevalent in the tenant farms. Or you could wander about aimlessly until you catch your death. There is always the river separating our properties. A leap off the bridge would be quick and easy. With you gone, Miss Dove’s reputation will be secured, for no one can fault a woman for the death of her intended. Your brother will become the owner of Granville Estate. His accounts are secure and untouched by the charlatan you hired. With Harry’s money behind your debts, your mother will be free from debtor’s prison and live out her days in comfort. The village will watch and wait to see as Miss Dove finds another man, this time one of considerable means, perhaps a duke.” Rothes’s smile widened as he made certain James knew he would be the one to offer for Eleanor’s hand. “Your incompetence will soon be forgotten, and your pathetic existence will be reduced to a stone marker.”

Somehow, with the little strength he had left, James fought his way to his feet so he could leave the duke’s den. He didn’t go out into the hall. Instead, he walked to the double doors that led out to a veranda. The distance to Granville House was much shorter if he went out the back to cross through the section adjoining Rothes’s land.

James stumbled his way down the hill to the bridge between the properties. It stood high above a fast-flowing river that emptied out into the ocean. He stepped forward, forcing one foot in front of the other until his boots slipped on the icy bridge, causing him to stumble. Grasping the stone railing, he leaned forward, bowing his head. Prayer was the one option he hadn’t yet tried, and now, more than ever, he felt compelled to petition God.

“Father, who art in heaven.” A sob broke free from his throat as he leaned on his arms, his hands shaking. “I am not a praying man, but if thou art there, and thou canst hear me, show me the way. ”

As he stood looking out at the vast ocean in the distance, James leaned forward, waiting for an answer. His mother had taught him to trust in the Lord. If ever there was a time when a man needed heavenly assistance, it was this moment. The water rushed below. Swirling waves mixed with broken shards of ice as he waited for an answer that didn’t seem likely to arrive. A man didn’t have the right to expect God to rush to his aid when he had spent his life only offering up such felicitations while in the pews at church each Sabbath day.

James ran his hand through his hair as he made a final decision. If God had heard his prayer and sent an answer, the answer had been drowned out by the strength of the wind around him. Removing his frock coat, he carefully folded the wet material, noticing the bulge of the watch secured in the pocket before laying it on the stone. Lifting his leg, he hoisted himself up on the ledge of the bridge before gazing down at the watery depths.

Just as he was ready to take a leap, his eye caught a movement to the right where he had placed his coat. He turned and startled at the sight of a man standing on the bridge. Instead of jumping to his death, James tumbled backward, falling on his back. The world suddenly went dark as his head slammed against the cobblestones, rendering him even more helpless than he’d been moments before.

James woke to the crackling of a fire and the smell of roasted chicken. A bandage was wrapped around his temple, a terrible ache pounding every inch of his head. A wave of dizziness hit as he attempted to move, his eyes aching. The memory of his last moments came back in a rush, the shame of his near life-ending decision filling his chest with regret that he hadn’t succeeded. Sitting up, he searched for the man who had foiled his plans. He would give the man a set-down and then find his way back to the bridge.

Rothes had been right. For the first time in James’s knowledge, the duke had aptly assessed the situation and left a visual impression in James’s mind of the ruin Eleanor would face as a consequence of their engagement. There was only one solution.

The door to the cottage opened, the wind causing the flames in the fire to flicker. The same man who had startled him on the bridge walked in with a pile of wood in his arms. He looked over at the bed and then smiled. “Would you like something to eat?”

His stomach growled in response. One last meal wouldn’t do him harm. “I would be most grateful.”

James watched the man’s movements. For an elderly gentleman, he seemed light on his feet, with the agility of a young man. But even though he couldn’t place the memory, James knew this man was not a stranger. They must have received an introduction, if not conversed, on one occasion. Even the tone of his voice was familiar. The memory sat on the edge of James’s mind, itching for the details to emerge, but the pain in his head was too great, and so he stopped fighting to retrieve the memory.

“Do I know you?”

The man didn’t turn around. He was busy preparing a plate as he crouched by the fire, having pulled the meat away from the flames. “We have met. But it was many years ago, and you likely do not remember.” The stranger placed a steaming cup of tea on a tray, along with a plate filled with meat, roasted potatoes, and cabbage.

“Tell me the instance, and I am certain I will recall the day.”

The man wiggled his finger at him. “You will remember after this night. I promise you that. Now, it’s been years since I cooked supper. You’ll let me know if it’s edible?”

James hesitated before picking up the fork, but the yearning and another audible growl of his stomach won out. The last meal he’d eaten had been that morning, and he hadn’t thought to go all day without another meal. If he had known what this day would bring, he’d likely have eaten much more than a few slices of toast. The chicken was cooked to perfection, tender and succulent. The potatoes were seasoned with garlic, and the cabbage, although he’d never been one to enjoy the vegetable, was delicious. If he wasn’t determined to finish the night with another visit to the bridge, he would have requested a second plate .

James took one last sip of tea before setting the tray aside. “You are not hungry?”

“No.” The man chuckled as he busied himself with the fire. “I have no need of food, James.”

James rubbed his head. A soft spot and a large bump sent a shock of pain through every nerve, head to toe. He had this man to thank for the bump. A respectable man would have left him to his business and carried on without interrupting. Annoyed more than anything, James narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Who was this stranger, and when had they previously met? “You have the upper hand, sir. I am afraid your name escapes me.”

“Erasmus Brown. Your humble servant.”

He turned the name over in his head, whispered it as he tried it out, but he had never spoken the name Erasmus Brown in his life…at least, not that he could recollect. Moreover, the man’s accent wasn’t British. “From where do you hail? I have never met anyone with your accent. Are you from a town nearby?”

Erasmus shook his head. “I hail from a place quite distant from here.”

“What brought you to Emerald Falls?” James threw the blankets back on the bed, swinging his legs to the side so he could retrieve his clothing and get back to the task at hand.

“An assignment, of sorts.”

James nodded. “Anything I might help you with?”

The offer had come automatically. He’d said those same words nearly every day of his life. There was always someone to help, and he didn’t mind lending a hand when necessary. But did he really have time this night? He had only a few hours to complete the task, which would then allow his remains to be found by morning, thereby freeing Eleanor from their engagement and his mother from the threat of debtor’s prison.

“I had hoped you would offer.” Erasmus lifted the tea kettle, refilling James’s cup. “It is as I always say—a kind deed is often met with one in return.”

James took another sip of tea and then placed the cup on the tray once more. “I have a busy night ahead of me. Tell me what you need, and I will gladly assist.”

“Very well. I need you to take yourself home to that beautiful young lady of yours. She is likely worried you have not arrived to greet your guests.”

James tried to stand, but a wave of nausea forced him back down to the bed. He touched the back of his head as Erasmus picked up the cup, insisting he drink. “Is that all?”

Erasmus patted James on the shoulder in a tender way that made him believe this elderly man was intent on seeing him back to Granville House, no matter how troublesome the task became.

James grumbled. “What business is it of yours?”

“I was sent here to help you. My presence in Emerald Falls is strictly due to that prayer you said at the bridge.”

“Pardon me?”

Erasmus pointed his finger up, and James’s eyes followed as his head tilted backward. Erasmus spoke with a reverence James had never heard nor felt. A wave of peace came over him, as though his soul was confirming the heavenly claim. “He sent me to be your guardian angel.”

James had heard a great many fabrications in his life, but this was by far the most amusing. Was this a lark created for his amusement? Had this man heard the miraculous story from James’s youth? The story the vicar had conjured up claiming a guardian angel had saved his and Harry’s lives? If so, James found it rather distasteful, given his current predicament.

Fighting against the peace he’d experienced seconds before, he considered the situation. He hadn’t done anything noteworthy in his life. He had friends who had done more notable actions, serving in the military, for one. That sort of bravery deserved heavenly protection.

“Why would anyone want to send me an angel?”

“I was sent here to save you. Ridiculous of you to consider killing yourself over money. Do you not know that life is God’s greatest gift to man?”

James leaned forward, resting his head in his hands. “Well, you look like the sort of angel I would get. Hidden away in a little cottage, no wings, a missing halo, a strange accent. Did you fall from heaven, or did they cast you out?”

“Wings require a great many good deeds, and I have not yet earned them.”

James wondered for a moment if this man had escaped from an asylum. He didn’t know of any nearby, but it was possible he had wandered far from bedlam before the snowstorm had hit. Playing along with the delusion, James grumbled. “What will Society think if I show up to the Epiphany celebration with a wingless angel?”

Erasmus laughed. “With your help, I won’t be wingless for long.”

James nodded his head, instantly regretting it as another wave of nausea hit with a twinge of pain. “Then we must get on with it. How might I assist?”

“By allowing me to help you.”

James forced himself off the bed—dizziness or not, he was ready to leave this little cottage. He crossed to the fire to check his clothing. His shirt and breeches were still wet, which didn’t bother him at all. He didn’t need dry clothes to finish his work. But if he were to assist this man back to the asylum where he would be safe, he might want to start the night out with dry clothing.

“You do not happen to have eight thousand pounds?”

“I am afraid not. We do not use money in heaven.” Erasmus had an answer for everything. He was sharp as a tack for one so delusional.

“It is quite important down here. In fact, without it, one might as well be dead.”

“You must not speak like that. I will never get my wings if you continue to think about ending your life. You simply do not realize what you have done. Why, if it hadn’t been for you…”

James narrowed his eyes at the angel. “If it had not been for me Eleanor would be living a life of comfort as a contessa. She wouldn’t be facing the ruin of a second failed engagement. My brother would be master of the family estate instead of traipsing around the Continent with his wife pretending to find happiness in rented rooms. Even my friends and the people in this town who have relied upon me would be better off.”

“James, you are not thinking properly.”

James pulled up his shirt, intending to remove the night clothes in which Erasmus had so kindly dressed him while he’d been unconscious. “Leave me alone, Mr. Brown. Go haunt someone else.”

Erasmus clicked his tongue in disappointment as he shook his head. “Then you still think killing yourself is the answer?”

James shrugged his shoulders. “It will have to do. Why, if God were truly merciful, he would never have allowed a man such as me to walk this earth. Everyone would be much better off if I had never been born.”

Erasmus looked to the heavens and spoke in low tones so even James couldn’t hear. He nodded and then lifted his hands as though he were presenting a gift. “Very well, James. Your wish has been granted.”

“Just like that, huh? I thought you were an angel, not a mischievous spirit.” James quickly turned to look at the man and then stopped, worried he would aggravate the bump on the back of his head.

“You have never been born. You do not exist. No obligations. No duties. No debts. No intended. No mother.”

James quirked an eyebrow at the man as he suddenly noticed his head no longer hurt. Placing his hand against the back where he’d felt the bump earlier, he realized it was smooth. When he pulled the bandage off, he discovered it was clean.

“What the deuce?”

“Your headache and the wound are gone because you never slipped off the ledge.”

Tired of the games this old man was playing, James grabbed his clothing from the chairs, his hands touching the noticeably dry cloth. Considering it the one good thing that had happened that night, he decided it would be best to forego further conversation with Mr. Brown so he could get the deed over with.

Erasmus stood with a large smile upon his face. “Now that you are free from all burdens, where should we go first?”

“I need a drink. I have a bottle waiting for me in my den. If we are careful, we can avoid the ballroom, and no one need know we have entered Granville House.”

“Mind if I join you?” Erasmus bounced on the tips of his toes as though he were in for a treat.

“You are most welcome.” James buttoned his waistcoat and allowed Erasmus to help him with the frock coat. Before they left the cottage, James turned back to the strange man. “No more talk of angels, otherwise I will keep my bottle to myself.”

Erasmus held up his hands in contrition. “Carry on, James. I wish only to see to your success.”

As they stepped out into the elements, James noted, for the first time in the last twelve days, the snow had finally stopped. A chill settled into his bones as he left the warmth of the hearth to walk the distance to Granville House. It took a moment for him to gather his bearings, but when he realized the way home, he started the long trek along the snowy path.