Page 68 of A Feud with the Duke

“You were asked by my mother to help take Edward to a place in Wales,” Alice said.

Mary served tea and Charlie paused long enough to take a swallow from a battered tin cup. Alice was served a chipped, china cup and she sipped from it.

“Yes, in the south it was. On the coast. Had a funny name, Welsh I suppose. I found out from one of the locals that it meant White House. And it was too. Big old place and painted all white.”

“And you left him there. To recover from his illness?” Alice asked.

“Yes, we did. Lady Cynthia said he would be right as rain there. Seemed a nice place. Very clean inside, if a bit bare.”

“You actually went inside?”

“Yes. Lord Edward was helped from the carriage by two men who came out to greet him. But later, I was asked to step inside and sign some papers.”

Mary scoffed at this. “Papers? You?”

Charlie grinned boyishly, swigging some more of his black tea. “Aye, had to tell them I couldn’t read or write. Lady Cynthia looked right peeved at that. Reckon she hadn’t thought I was ill…lit…ill…”

“Illiterate?” Alice suggested as Charlie struggled with the word.

“Aye, that’s the one. Anyway. They said it didn’t matter, I could make my mark and that would do. The important thing, they said, was that I bear witness to them signing. So I watched them sign and then made my mark. Fancy fella said that he had the papers. Then we left. Spent the night at an inn on the road to Bristol. Got back to Lindley the next day.”

Alice had been sitting forward, cup held before her. Now she sat back, putting the cup down and putting a hand to her chin.

Edward is sent away in poor health. Nothing unusual in that. Charlie is asked to witness the signature of some papers. But what? And why would Edward kill himself? Did he kill himself or did he die of illness? In which case, why lie about such a terrible act?

Alice stared into space, mulling the new revelations over in her mind. What could be so terrible that it was preferable to have people believe that Edward had committed a mortal sin, taking his own life?

Whatever it was, it was planned by mother. Was Simon also involved?

“Are you quite well, my lady?” Charlie asked.

Alice realized that she had drifted miles from the little cottage and smiled.

“Yes, yes. I am sorry. How rude of me. I am trying to puzzle some things out, you see, that happened when I was away and which have not been discussed since. With mama’s passing, it seems she took much knowledge with her.”

Charlie exchanged looks with Mary, frowning. Then cleared his throat.

“Well as to that. Suppose there’s no harm to me or mine, now that Lady Cynthia is no longer with us. But, I was paid a month’s wages, in advance, for making this trip. And told that if I spoke of it to anyone. Well, I was told I would be out of a job and out of a home too. And my old man with me. I haven’t spoken of it since then. Wouldn’t have spoken of it now but, as I said, your good mother ain’t with us anymore and you’re the Lady of the house.”

“Don’t worry, Charlie. There will be no consequences to yourself. You have my word,” Alice told him.

She took her leave, returning to the carriage and filled with questions.

CHAPTER42

The carriage ride back to Lindley Manor felt as though it should have been scored by thunder and lightning. Instead, the earlier rain had been blown away by enthusiastic gusts of wind to reveal a blue sky and the sound of birdsong. Warmth spilled across Alice’s face as she gazed out of the window at the passing fields and meadows. Her mood was dark and her face grim.

Once again, I am being kept in the dark and treated like a child. I am considered adult enough to be married off for the benefit of the family but not old enough to be taken into the confidence of my brother and sister. We stand alone in this world, bereft of parents and family. And they shut me out still. What secret are they keeping?

As always, of late, her thoughts circled back to Harold.

Simon on one side and Harold on the other. But they might as well be on the same side. Harold is pushing me away. That much is clear. Perhaps he considers me too difficult a conquest. Surrounded by too much drama. Why would he not simply reply to any one of my letters and tell me it is over.

Tears stung at her eyes. They were tears of loss but tainted with anger and resentment. At that moment in time, she felt very much alone and rejected by everyone around her. But the anger, at least, gave her a warmth inside, a heat that drove her on. The mystery of Teddy’s death had deepened and she wanted answers to that. Lindley appeared as though by magic and Alice realized that she had not been aware of their approach. Blind eyes had stared out at familiar landmarks while her mind roamed elsewhere.

At the door, she removed her hat and coat, handing them to a servant. The woman was new, Alice did not know her name and had not seen her before.

“Are you new here?” she asked. “I do not think I have seen you before.”

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