Chapter 25

Chapter 25

The journey back to Wessex Manor seemed interminable. Catherine’s heart raced with each step, her mind whirling with the weight of the revelations she now carried. The forest path stretched before them, dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy above. Beside her, Samuel walked with his head bowed, a man marching to his own execution.

As they approached the manor, its imposing silhouette looming against the darkening sky, Catherine saw a figure pacing on the terrace. Even from a distance, she recognized Edward’s tall frame, his agitated movements. Her breath caught in her throat and her heart raced.

Oh, how she loved him.

Edward spotted them as they neared, his body going rigid. He descended the steps swiftly, gravel crunching under his boots. His face was a mask of confusion and concern, brow furrowed deeply.

“Catherine?” he called, his voice filled with utter bewilderment. “Where have you... Samuel? What’s going on?”

Catherine took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation to come. “Edward, we need to talk. It’s... it’s about your parents.”

Edward’s eyes darted between them, narrowing suspiciously. The muscle in his jaw ticked, a tell-tale sign of his rising tension. “My study. Now.”

Catherine frowned. He’d always been so adamant that he would not discuss his parents’ death. Was it Samuel’s presence that changed his mind?

Yet, when she looked at his weary posture, she knew—it was not. He had fought for far too long, and he was exhausted now.

The tension in Edward’s study was palpable as Samuel began his confession. The room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick and oppressive. Catherine’s heart shattered just a bit as she saw Edward’s face pale, and his hands gripping the edge of his desk, knuckles white with strain.

Samuel’s voice trembled as he recounted the events of that fateful night, each word seeming to physically pain him. “I let them in, My Lord. The men Isabella hired. I... I disabled the locks, showed them the way to your parents’ chambers. I didn’t... I thought I...”

Edward’s face paled, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his forehead. “You... you helped murder my parents?”

Samuel nodded miserably, unable to meet Edward’s gaze. “Yes, My Lord. I... I’m so sorry. I was blinded by my feelings for Isabella, I never thought...”

As Samuel finished, a heavy silence fell over the room. Edward stood motionless, his back to them, staring out the window. The last rays of sunlight cast long shadows across the floor, painting the room in shades of gold and deep crimson.

“Edward?” Catherine ventured softly, taking a hesitant step toward him.

He turned slowly, his face eerily calm. The stillness was unnerving, like the calm before a storm. “This… all of it… this is the truth? And yet… you stayed here all these years… and I trusted you?”

Samuel nodded, his shoulders slumped in defeat. “I… am sorry, My Lord. I... I’m so sorry. I know it doesn’t change anything, but I’ve regretted my actions every day since.”

For a moment, Edward remained still, his eyes boring into Samuel. Then, with a roar of rage that seemed to shake the very foundations of the manor, he lunged at Samuel, his fist connecting with the butler’s jaw with a sickening crack.

Samuel stumbled back, crashing into a bookshelf. Volumes tumbled to the floor as Edward advanced, his face contorted with fury. “You bastard!” he bellowed, raining blows upon Samuel, who simply stood there, accepting the punishment. “They trusted you! We all trusted you!”

Catherine cried out, her heart racing as she watched the violent scene unfold. “Edward, stop!” she pleaded, attempting to pull him away. Her hands grasped at his shirt, feeling the trembling tension in his muscles. “Please, you’ll kill him!”

Her words seemed to penetrate the fog of Edward’s fury. He staggered back, chest heaving, knuckles bloody and raw. Harper slumped to the floor, his face a mess of bruises, blood trickling from a split lip.

“Get out,” Edward growled, his voice low and dangerous. “Get out of my sight before I finish what I’ve started.”

Samuel struggled to his feet, using the bookshelf for support. “My Lord, I...”

“OUT!”

The bellow echoed through the room, causing Catherine to flinch. Samuel stumbled toward the door, pausing for a moment with his hand on the knob. “I truly am sorry, Lord Wessex. For everything.”

As Samuel’s footsteps faded down the hallway, Edward collapsed into a chair, his head in his hands. The fight seemed to have drained out of him, leaving him looking older and more vulnerable than Catherine had ever seen him.

She approached cautiously, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. She could feel the slight tremor running through his body, a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil within.

“Edward,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “I know it’s a lot to take in, but we need to focus. Isabella is still a threat.”

Edward looked up, his eyes haunted, rimmed with unshed tears. “Isabella. My God, I almost married her. The woman who orchestrated my parents’ murder.”

Catherine knelt beside him, taking his hands in hers. His knuckles were scraped and beginning to swell, warm beneath her touch. “But you didn’t. And now we can stop her, make her pay for what she’s done. Your parents deserve justice, Edward.”

Slowly, Edward nodded, some of the old determination returning to his eyes. “You’re right. We need a plan.”

Catherine looked at him earnestly, then leaned forward to take his hands. “Samuel…” she started, and he shook his head at once. “Edward, he… he can help.”

“Fine,” he bit out at last—reluctantly walking out of the house to call the man back, scowling when he learned that he had not quite left the estate. The butler entered warily, his face swollen and bruised, but there was a look of grim determination in his eyes.

As night fell, casting long shadows across the study, a plan began to take shape. Edward paced the room, his energy seemingly restored by the prospect of action.

“We’ll invite Isabella here tomorrow,” he said, his voice steady and authoritative. “Under the guise of discussing wedding plans. Harper, you’ll confront her with the letters, get her to incriminate herself. Catherine and I will be hidden, along with the authorities.”

Samuel nodded grimly, wincing slightly at the movement. “And then I’ll face the consequences of my actions.”

Edward’s jaw clenched, a flicker of the earlier anger passing across his face. “We’ll deal with that after Isabella is brought to justice. One monster at a time.”

As Harper left to make the necessary arrangements, Edward turned to Catherine. The soft lamplight cast a warm glow on his face, softening the hard lines of anger and grief. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow will be... challenging.”

Catherine hesitated, suddenly unwilling to be parted from him. “Edward, I... I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

Their eyes met, a current of unspoken longing passing between them. Without a word, Edward pulled her into his arms, his lips finding hers in a desperate, passionate kiss. The world seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them, clinging to each other in the face of all they had endured.

They stumbled toward Edward’s bedchamber, hands frantically pulling at clothing. Buttons popped and fabric tore, but neither cared. As they fell onto the bed, Catherine gasped at the feel of Edward’s skin against hers, warm and alive.

“I’ve missed you,” Edward murmured, trailing kisses down her neck. His hands roamed her body, rediscovering every curve and plane. “God, how I’ve missed you.”

Catherine arched into his touch, all thoughts of propriety forgotten. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer. “Edward, please...”

Their lips met in a fervent kiss and Catherine let out a low moan when he pressed into her warmth. His skin burned against hers as their hands explored each other, their tongues dueling in a needy kiss.

Catherine threw her head back against the bedding as their hips moved rhythmically against each other and she cried out when he collapsed on top of her, both of them utterly spent.

Catherine opened her mouth to speak, but one look at the man next to him prevented her from doing just that. She loved him—loved him more than she could ever explain, and while she was relieved that he would now be safe, it was not enough.

They would never be together—not truly. Though he was now safe, he was still not free to return her love.

Still, despite the pain this caused, she did not get out of the bed. Instead, she pressed her head against his shoulder and allowed sleep to take her—allowed dreams to feel like reality—just once.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, at odds with the grim task that lay ahead. Catherine dressed with trembling hands, her stomach a knot of anxiety.

Edward was silent, though she could see through the cracks in his armor—could see that he too was anxious about this task ahead of them. When he turned to look at her, however, he was composed, and his voice was steady. “Are you ready?”

She nodded, squeezing his hand. The warmth of his skin against hers was comforting, grounding. “As I’ll ever be.”

They made their way to the drawing room, where Chief Inspector Maslow and two constables were already waiting. The inspector, a portly man with a bushy mustache, nodded grimly as they entered.

“Lord Wessex, Miss Winslow. I hope you understand the gravity of these accusations,” the inspector frowned beneath his bushy brows.

“We do, Inspector,” Edward replied, his voice steady and authoritative. “And we’re prepared to provide all the evidence necessary to see justice done.”

Silently, they took their positions: all of them hidden behind a decorative screen—the sound of carriage wheels on gravel announced Isabella’s arrival. Catherine’s heart raced, her palms growing damp with sweat.

Edward caught Catherine’s eye as they heard the footsteps entering his study.

“Samuel, darling,” Isabella said, her voice tense. “Where is Edward? What is the meaning of this?”

“His lordship is still in his bedchamber,” Samuel lied quickly. “I wanted to talk to you… alone.”

Isabella huffed audibly. “That is not clever. I told you already—you need to wait…”

“Isabella.” Samuel’s voice was sharp now, and they all heard Isabella’s intake of breath.

“Samuel, darling? What’s going on?”

There was a rustle of fabric as Samuel stepped forward, producing the packet of letters. His hands shook slightly as he held them out. “It’s over, Isabella. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Do what?” Isabella laughed nervously “Samuel, you’re not making any sense.”

“The plan, Isabella,” he pressed, his voice growing stronger. “The murders. All of it. I’m going to tell Lord Wessex everything.”

Isabella’s face drained of color, her composure cracking like fine porcelain. “You wouldn’t dare. You’re as guilty as I am!”

“Perhaps,” Samuel agreed, a note of resignation in his voice. “But I can’t live with this guilt any longer. We killed his parents, Isabella. And now you want to kill Emily too? It’s too much. I won’t be party to more bloodshed.”

“Oh, hush you fool! Keep your voice down.” Isabella hissed, glancing around nervously. Her mask of civility was slipping, revealing the calculating creature beneath. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I think not,” Edward spoke suddenly, moving out from behind the screen. Isabella laughed falsely.

“Edward, darling. I… I don’t know what he is talking about, he’s gone mad…”

Edward stood slowly, his eyes blazing with cold fury. “Has he, Isabella? Then perhaps you’d care to explain these.”

He held up one of the letters, and Isabella’s composure shattered completely. Her eyes widened in horror, her mouth working soundlessly for a moment. “Where did you get that?” she finally managed, her voice a strangled whisper. Then she turned, facing Samuel—her entire body visibly trembling. “Samuel, you treacherous bastard!”

“It’s over, Isabella,” Edward said quietly. “Inspector, I believe you have what you need.”

Chief Inspector Maslow stepped out from behind the screen, flanked by his constables. “Indeed I do, Lord Wessex. Lady Isabella Fairfax, you are under arrest for the murders of Lord and Lady Wessex, and conspiracy to commit further murders.”

Isabella’s screams of outrage echoed through the manor as the constables led her away, her perfectly coiffed hair coming undone, her silk dress rumpled as she struggled against their grip. “You can’t do this to me! Do you know who I am? Edward! Edward, tell them this is all a mistake!”

But Edward remained impassive, watching with cold eyes as the woman he had almost married was dragged from the room. In the aftermath, a heavy silence fell over the drawing room, broken only by the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.

Samuel stood, head bowed, awaiting his own judgment. “My Lord, I... I’m ready to face the consequences of my actions.”

Edward regarded him for a long moment, his face unreadable. “You let the killers into my home, Samuel. You’ve lied to me for years. By all rights, I should see you hang alongside Isabella.”

Samuel nodded, accepting his fate with quiet resignation.

“But,” Edward continued, his voice softening slightly, “you also helped bring my parents’ killers to justice. You saved Emily’s life. For that... for that, I will not press charges against you.”

Samuel looked up, shock written across his battered face. “My Lord, I... thank you. I don’t deserve your mercy.”

“No, you do not,” Edward agreed, his tone hardening once more. “But I’m giving it to you anyway. You’re dismissed from service, effective immediately. I suggest you leave the country, Mr. Harper. Start a new life, if you can. And pray that our paths never cross again.”

As Mr. Harper left, shoulders slumped, Edward turned to Catherine. She stepped into his embrace, feeling the tension drain from his body. His arms encircled her, holding her close as if she were an anchor in a storm.

“It’s over,” she murmured, her voice muffled against his chest. “They can rest in peace now. Your parents, I mean.”

Edward’s arms tightened around her, his chin resting on the top of her head. “Thanks to you, dear Catherine. I don’t know what I would have done without you. You’ve brought light back into my life, Catherine. Hope.”

Catherine looked up at him, seeing the love and gratitude shining in his eyes. The pain was still there, the grief, but now there was something else too—a spark of joy, of possibility. “You’ll never have to find out,” she promised, reaching up to cup his cheek. “You… you can be happy now.”

As they stood there, holding each other in the quiet aftermath of justice served, Catherine felt a sense of hope blossoming in her heart. The shadows of the past had been banished, and the future—their future—stretched out before them, bright with promise.

Edward leaned down, capturing her lips in a tender kiss. When they parted, he rested his forehead against hers, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I think it is time,” he said slowly, “That Wessex Manor became the place it was meant to be, the place my parents had made it all those years ago,” he announced. “I will no longer hide from society. I am the Earl of Wessex—and it is time I lived up to that.”

He smiled down at Catherine proudly—and if her own smile was not quite as confident as his, he did not notice it. He was far too consumed by the joy bubbling in his chest.