Page 24 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
“My dear, you must join me on my morning turn about the grounds. It’s so stuffy here in the manor—it's a pleasure to get outdoors now and again.” She smiled; her eyes gentle.
“Yes. I imagine so,” Emmeline murmured. She had done her best to ignore the state of the breakfast room, but it certainly was depressing, with the wallpaper scuffed and damaged and the floor badly in need of polish. The velvet curtains were worn here and there, and the fire smoked a little, sending a smoky, harsh scent into the air. The furniture—a lot of it—was old and neglected and there was almost no coal in the coal scuttle.
“I always walk down to the pond,” Lady Rilendale continued, bringing her thoughts back from her observations. “When we have eaten, you must join me.”
“Thank you, I would like that,” Emmeline admitted. She had not allowed herself to dwell on the thought, but the prospect of being alone inthe big, sprawling manor by herself for hours and hours was not exactly alluring.
“You must tell me a little about your family,” Lady Rilendale asked as they sat and ate. Emmeline sipped her tea, allowing her mind to drift to Amelia and her mother. Her throat tightened with sadness, and she found it hard to find words.
“I am an only child. My Papa passed away, as you know,” she explained a little awkwardly. “It was just a year ago,” she added, feeling her heart twist.
“I am sorry, dear,” Lady Rilendale murmured. Her expression was tender and sincere. Emmeline swallowed hard, doing her best not to let tears fall. Lady Rilendale’s kindness touched her more than Andrew’s cruelty.
“My closest family besides Mama are Amelia, Aunt and Uncle. You met them all,” Emmeline reminded.
“They seem very pleasant,” Lady Rilendale assured her.
Emmeline smiled at her. In the face of Lord Rilendale’s callous cruelty, his mother’s sincere kindness was like a salve, easing her wounds.
“Thank you.”
They chatted a while longer, and then Lady Rilendale pushed back her chair.
“It’s time for our walk, I think,” she said, taking her walking cane and walking slowly to the door.
Emmeline walked by her side, and they went slowly downstairs.
“When I see that tree, I recall the day that Andrew climbed up it,” Lady Rilendale said with a smile as they passed a huge, towering pine tree that grew perhaps ten yards from the door.
“He did?” Emmeline giggled despite her serious mood. The image of Andrew climbing anything—even as a child—was impossible.
“He did! He was a fine climber as a little boy. He used to shoot straight up the trees. Especially that one. One day, I thought he had got stuck.” She laughed; her hazel eyes bright at the memory.
Emmeline’s eyes widened. “You did? What did you do?”
“I fetched Mr Pearson. I thought perhaps he could climb up and rescue the poor boy, but imagine my surprise when Andrew jumped down. I screamed! Poor Pearson thought I would have a fit of apoplexy, but my heart held up well to the strain.” She smiled and Emmeline had to laugh.
“Was he hurt?” she asked, bringing her thoughts back to the account Lady Rilendale related.
“Not much,” Lady Rilendale said with a grin. “He was a hardy little fellow. His ankle was a little sprained, and he hurt his wrist, but aside from those he was quite all right. In a week or two he was sprinting around the grounds again, showing Randolph how fast he could run.” She smiled and Emmeline saw her eyes cloud over. She guessed Randolph was the former Lord Rilendale. She shivered. Mention of him reminded her of the rumours of Andrew having murdered him.
“He was close to his grandfather?” she asked. In one way, she hoped they had been enemies. It would make it seem somehow less wicked if at least he and Andrew hated each other.
“Oh, two people could not be closer. Andrew was like our child. Almost,” she murmured, and Emmeline saw tears form in her eyes. In spite of her shock at the news, she held out a hand to Lady Rilendale. The older woman squeezed it briefly, then let go. “Sorry, dear. Sometimes it hits me. Andrew looks so much like his father. So much like my dear Hugh.”
“I’m sorry,” Emmeline murmured.
Lady Rilendale shook her head. “No need, my dear. It just all comes back to me sometimes. Losing Hugh so young. But having Andrew made it possible to bear. He was a light for me and my husband. Kept us sane.”
“I imagine,” Emmeline said, heart beating. She wished there was some way to ask the older lady if the rumours were possibly true. But what if this sweet woman did not know of them? She did not want to ruin the dowager countess’ memories of her much-cherished grandson by suggesting such a thing.
“He was such a funny fellow,” Lady Rilendale continued warmly. “Running around on the lawn. I remember his riding lessons. He was a demon on horseback!” she laughed aloud.
“Really?” Emmeline was intrigued. She leaned closer, listening attentively.
“Oh, yes! He was always trying to speed off somewhere. His riding master was a dear fellow—Mr Carisbrooke. I remember him well. He was so patient, but his patience was sorely tried by our dear grandson.” She chuckled. “Andrew was a natural horseman, you see, and he soon outclassed anything his tutor expected of him.” Her eyes were bright at the memory.
“I did not know he rode,” Emmeline said slowly. That was something they had in common, at least. Her heart thumped faster. That story made him seem a little more human, a little less like a cold, distant stranger.
