Twenty-three

Zachary

I remained solemnly at Father’s graveside for several hours after the wake ended.

Yesterday, Mr. Jessop, our stablemaster and his two sons, dug the grave in our family plot within the black gated portion of our estate in preparation for the burial. Now, at the conclusion of the service, they proceeded to fill the hole, only each scoop and thump seemed to echo deafeningly both in my ears and my chest as Father’s casket disappeared beneath the mound of dirt. I had not expected to feel so much sorrow.

It was a simple service that included a message of peace and hope from Mr. Murray, our local vicar, and all the staff were invited to attend. Truly the only ones who knew Father at his peak of health were Mrs. Dunlap, Cook, Penelope, a scullery maid, a footman named Charlie, and Mr. Jessop. The others had only known him bedridden and ill.

Frederick and I had not spoken another word to each other in the two days since I arrived. I was neither surprised nor heartbroken over it. Astonishingly so, we also managed to maneuver the halls without crossing paths, partook of our meals at different times, and while he worked in Father’s study, I rode Thunder through the familiar fields and to the nearby woods that held an overabundance of memories. However, I could not bring myself to see Cornelius yet. At least not without Eveline. If I could convince her to return with me at a later date, we might be able to venture out there together.

I truly missed Evie and chastised myself repeatedly for squandering the time from the onset of the house party to when we finally kissed. Regardless, I had learned quite recently that no matter how much we wanted to alter the past, the endeavor proved impossible. One must take the lessons learned and proceed forward with an intent to not make the same mistakes. This became my newest mantle, and I fully intended to see it through.

I smiled at the recollection of that one glorious day we spent becoming reacquainted. Specifically, our kiss in the woods, and when it was appropriate enough for me to vacate the premises, I would hasten back to Gottling and back to Evie.

“Anythin’ else, m’lord?” Mr. Jessop leaned on his shovel, pulled his hat off his head and wiped his moist brow.

“No, thank you.” I shook his hand. “I appreciate all you have done for my father and for the estate.”

He nodded and waved to his boys. “Come, Willie and Johnny, let’s leave Lord Zachary to his peace.” At seventeen and eighteen, his sons had grown taller than even their father in the years of my absence and with dutiful obedience, they nodded their goodbyes. I watched them return to the stables and wished I had been more compliant at that age… then maybe things might have been different between my father and me.

“Lord Zachary?”

I circled around to face a footman from the house.

“Mrs. Dunlap insisted I bring this to you at once. It’s from London.”

Once again, I couldn’t prevent my heart from hoping that the missive was from Evie, but she was neither in London, nor had a reason to respond since I, myself, had not written and updated her on my father. She loved him, too, and I chastised myself silently with an intent to rectify the deed once I returned to the house.

Receiving the post, I recognized the familiar lettering from Mr. Smith, my solicitor. I was pleased to see he had responded so promptly to my letter sent by messenger only yesterday morning. “How did this arrive?”

“Mr. Barclay brought it with him.”

Ah yes. The last will and testament. I knew Frederick would not wait long to proceed with the business of the estate and claim what was rightfully his, but I had not expected Mr. Barclay to be present for it. He and Mr. Smith were colleagues, though I had not seen my father’s solicitor since Frederick dismissed him and replaced him with a selection of his own.

I took a seat on the lone stone bench in the center of the burial ground. My mother’s gravestone, a thick cross with a dozen carved roses at the base, was barely a touch away. My paternal grandparents and great grandparents were also buried here, but Father had this bench put in this precise place so he could come out here and visit his deceased wife.

I recall many days of standing in the garden looking across the yard and seeing him here. And on many occasions with his head heavy in his hands. I never saw my father openly weep, but from the shudder of his shoulders, I could guess that’s what he did here. Now, as an adult, and one who has only recently discovered the depth of the human heart, I could not imagine the pain I would endure if anything happened to Eveline. It would destroy me.

I unfolded the parchment and read over the contents as quickly as I could. The message was vague Yes, he confirmed that I had the necessary funds to acquire a cottage home but admonished me to wait and discuss it with him in person in a month’s time. A month’s time? Why?

If I managed to persuade Eveline to marry me, I wished only to wait the time required for the Banns to be read. I had no intention of waiting a measly second beyond that… but I suppose we could look for a home together upon returning from our wedding trip. And a wedding trip we most certainly would have. I grinned like a child on Christmas morning. I couldn’t wait to share this news with Eveline. My situation might not be as dreadful as anticipated, and I prayed this would only prove my love for her.

I folded up the missive and remained on the bench for an unspecified amount of time. As the sun began its descent, a carriage ambled down the lane and toward the front entrance of the house. Something seemed familiar about that coach. I stood and tented my palm over my eyes to get a better look at the visitors.

When the horses whinnied and came to a stop, my eyes went immediately to the lead horse and her beautiful coat. Isis?

I rubbed my eyes. Surely, I was imagining things. Isis could not be here at Havenscrest. Then my eyes did betray me for I saw the most beautiful creature exit the carriage.

Eveline!

Had I dwelled on her so much in my mind, I conjured her up to appear… here, at Havenscrest? If this was a mirage, it was certainly the loveliest I had ever seen.

She lifted the hem of her dress and pelisse with practiced grace as she ascended the front steps toward the door, but I remembered how often she hopped and scurried up those same steps. My pulse raced. I was too far to call out her name, but my heart leaped in my chest at the notion of her arrival.

Reaching for my coat, I gripped it tightly in my fist, then said goodbye to my parents as I rushed toward the house. Halfway there, I stopped the coachman as he neared the stables. With a quick pat over Isis’ hide, I approached the driver’s seat. “Are you truly from Gottling Hall?” I inquired, nearly out of breath from the run.

“Yes, my lord.” He stood precariously in place and removed his hat.

“And your passenger was Mrs. Turner?”

“Yes, and her maid, Rosie.” He pointed behind the coach. A footman I recognized from Hunter’s household, Joshua, I believe, and Evie’s maid, Rosie, were walking toward the servant’s entrance.

Yes! I pumped my fists trying abominably hard to remain dignified before the staff. “Thank you, sir.” I gestured for him to proceed.

Rushing toward the house, my mind whirled in a thousand different directions. Evie was here at Havenscrest! And I knew precisely where I was taking her in the morning and, if I could be so lucky, I might even persuade her to marry me.