Chapter Three

 

The wind gusted as Colin soaked in the home belonging to his cousin, aptly named Redstone Estate. The three-story house was made of a reddish stone that came from the local area. In circular recesses above each of the ground floor windows sat a bust of one of the men who once lived in the house after it was erected several generations earlier.

Tall trees grew on either side, and deep-red flowers mixed with yellow lined the ground floor windows. He recalled a visit here during his childhood when he enjoyed the freedom of horseback riding and exploring.

Indeed it had been a much simpler life. Now, he was a man with far too many responsibilities to enjoy such pastimes.

Although not as large as Hemingford Home, Redstone Estate offered a large ballroom, a vast library, and twenty bedchambers. Even the stable that sat to the right of the house was grand.

The drive circled a grassy area with a large birdbath, where three sparrows splashed in its cool water. A single tree provided a circle of shade. All around him spoke of luxury, a word synonymous with the name of Remington.

That and scandal.

The Remington family possessed a fortune so vast that even distant cousins far removed owned homes as grand as this. He knew of none who did not benefit from the many trade agreements and business contracts their ancestors had made. Indeed, there was much to go around.

Not for the first time, Colin wondered if his family was as unhappy as he. For the more the Remington wealth grew, so did their problems. Infidelity, blackmail, and even bribery were among the list of suspected troubles the society columns of the London papers attributed to them. And although no names had ever been attached to those articles, Colin always recognized a story about a Remington.

As Barclay, his driver, saw to his luggage, Colin made his way to the set of double doors of the house. At once, they opened, and he laughed as Miss Caroline Remington threw her arms around him.

“Oh, Colin!” she exclaimed. “I’ve been waiting for you all day!” She drew back, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I mean Your Grace.”

The last time Colin had seen Caroline, she was only eight. Now at fifteen, it was as if he were meeting an entirely different person altogether. Gone was the straw-like, mousy-brown hair, which now fell in a lustrous natural deep chestnut wave down her back.

“We’re cousins, Caroline,” he replied with a grin. “When it comes to family, we don’t necessarily have to adhere to such strict formalities. And look how much you’ve grown!”

Her cheeks reddened and she sighed. “As have you,” she replied. “We all have. Well, at least some of the Remingtons have matured. Father often joked that scandal…”

Her words trailed off, and Colin offered her a sympathetic smile. The loss of her parents had been a great blow, not only to Caroline but to Evelyn, as well.

“Well, that doesn’t matter anymore,” she said with a wave of her hand. “What does is that you’re here. And I’ll make certain that your stay here is as perfect as it can be.”

“Don’t exhaust yourself at my expense,” Colin said, grinning. “In fact, I demand that you do not. So, tell me. What has been going on since we last saw one another?”

Caroline bit at her lower lip as if unsure how to respond. “So much has changed, yet much has remained the same. Come inside, and we’ll talk more about that and other matters.”

Colin followed her into the house, and Caroline motioned to the butler, who appeared older than Pendleton. “Davis will see to any needs you may have during your stay.”

The butler gave a bow. “I’ll have your bags taken to your room, Your Grace. And if you need my services as your valet—"

“Thank you,” Colin replied. “But I’ll see to dressing myself. If I need my shoes shined or my coats brushed, however, I’ll be sure to ask.”

Leaving Davis to his task, Colin looked over the foyer. The marble floor and highly polished oak banister were just a taste of the fantastic decor of Redstone Estate.

“Do you not find the house too large for just you and Evelyn?” Colin asked as he followed Caroline down the corridor. With her parents deceased and Markus living two days’ journey away, he would have found the place a bit overbearing if he had to live there alone.

“I prefer the ample space,” Caroline replied as she stopped before a closed door. Brushing back a strand of brown hair behind an ear, she sighed. “It allows me to read in peace without worry that Markus will fuss at me.”

Colin recalled a younger Caroline with her nose buried in a book, much to her parents’ chagrin. In fact, she read so much that her mother had begun forbidding her from reading as a form of punishment for any acts of misbehavior. Colin never understood his aunt and uncle’s disapproval of their daughter reading. So much could be learned from such an activity.

“Evelyn is inside waiting,” Caroline said, pausing as she gripped the door handle. “I know she’s as excited as I to see you again.”

She opened the door, and Colin stepped inside. The drawing room had not changed any more than what he had seen of the house thus far. Red tapestries with gold trim hung from the walls, their patterns of gold vines and cherubs matching the fabric on the furniture. Three large windows draped in red looked out over the back gardens.

What caught his attention, however, was the lone figure of his cousin Evelyn, sitting in a window seat. Dressed entirely in black, even down to her gloves, and her dark hair pulled into a severe bun at the nape of her neck, one would have thought she was still in mourning.

When Evelyn gave no indication that she noticed Colin and Caroline approaching, Colin leaned in closer to Caroline. “Is she unwell?”

A look of sadness crossed Caroline’s features. “Not long after Father died, she began to withdraw. She can go for several days without speaking any words at all, but then she’ll go for an entire week as if all is normal. Nothing I do or say seems to help. I just don’t understand how one can be so withdrawn one day only to suddenly become happy the next and then draw back within herself again without any obvious cause.”

She walked over and lowered herself to her knees in front of her sister. “Evelyn? Evelyn, look who’s arrived. It’s our cousin Colin.” She spoke as if addressing a child rather than an elder sister.

Evelyn tilted her head, reminding Colin of a dog listening to a strange new sound. Then she rose as one crippled with old age despite her six and twenty years.

“Hello, Evelyn,” he said, pushing down the shiver from peering into her cold blue eyes. He did not embrace her as he had Caroline, and he could not have said why. Cursing himself inwardly, he added, “Thank you for having me as your guest.”

“You are most welcome,” Evelyn replied in formal tones. “Forgive me for not greeting you upon your arrival, but I was deep in thought and had not realized you were here. May I help you settle in? I can have tea sent up if you would like. Or something to eat?”

“Thank you, but no. Perhaps we can speak later at dinner.”

Evelyn gave a nod and returned to her seat beside the window, looking exactly as she had upon his arrival.

Caroline signaled to Colin to follow her, and they exited the room. Back in the foyer, she went to a large table and returned with a dark brown bottle.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Honey wine,” she replied with a smile. “A gift to welcome your return. It was made locally. I think you’ll enjoy it.”

“Thank you. I had planned to spend my days in leisure, and this will help.” This made them both laugh.

He studied his cousin, and although she was eleven years younger than her sister, she carried herself like a woman far older. “Tell me more about Evelyn. Does Markus know of her condition?”

She crossed her arms over her stomach. “He believes it’s a charade in order to gain attention after Father’s death.”

“And you? What do you believe?”

“It’s pure rubbish. She refuses to see anyone, has closed off every friendship, and rejects every offer to receive suitors. And the doctor agrees with me, that she is still grieving.”

Colin had heard of a mourning period lasting longer than six months, maybe even longer than a year. But three years? That was an obvious sign of something far sinister at play.

“The doctor has prescribed honey wine, just like what you hold, but you can see that it has done no good.” Colin went to return the bottle, but Caroline waved it away. “We have enough bottles to last us twenty years, so please, keep it. As I said before, there are days when Evelyn speaks as we are now, and you would think it’s always that way. Yet days like today outnumber those by far.”

Collin wished there was a way he could help. He was acquainted with many who were distinguished in the area of modern-day medicine. Perhaps he would make inquiries later. But he needed more information before he would do that.

“And this all began after your father’s death?”

Caroline nodded. “Markus hosted a party… well, perhaps party is not the correct term but rather a gathering to celebrate Father’s life and to begin the mourning period. Although I believe it was more an excuse for food and wine. The day after the party, Evelyn refused to leave her room or speak with anyone. Several months later, she refused to get out of bed. I suppose the fact we’ve been able to convince her to dress and come downstairs is an improvement, but this is as far as we’ve come.”

A sense of hopelessness washed over Colin. Here he was worrying over his problems, especially Lady Katherine, but his issues paled in comparison to those of his cousins. The air around him became stifling, causing his breathing to come in short gasps.

“I think I’ll go for a stroll and perhaps a bit of this wine.” Somehow, he managed to keep his voice even. He stepped out onto the portico and drew in a lungful of fresh air.

“Do you remember the river?” Caroline asked.

“How could I forget?” Colin asked with a laugh, glad to feel normal again. The last time he had gone to the river, Markus still lived at Redstone Estate, and he had joined Colin and the girls for a swim. Evelyn had gotten her shoes stuck in the muddy bank. Colin, in an attempt to rescue her shoes, had slipped and fallen on his backside, muddying his breeches and coat. Everyone, including himself, had shared in riotous laughter.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had not laughed like that since.

Caroline smiled. “Why not take a walk down there? The sound of the current can be very calming.”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea. Will you join me?”

Caroline glanced at the closed door and shook her head. “Evelyn does not like me going there, even with friends. But you enjoy yourself. Dinner is served at half-past six. Oh, and don’t drink too much of that in one sitting. It’s quite potent.”

Colin bounded down the steps and made his way to the stable. Halfway there, he stopped, uncorked the bottle, and sniffed at the opening. An overwhelming smell of honey and nutmeg filled his nostrils. Although he was curious as to where Caroline had procured such a drink, he summoned his courage and took a sip.

It was quite good.

“Potent?” he mumbled. “It’s more fruit and honey than wine.” Then again, Caroline was not accustomed to truly strong drink.

As the sun beat upon his head, Colin removed his coat and flung it over his shoulder. The unusually dry air stung his cheeks as he made his way into the small forest beyond the front gardens. Memories flooded his mind of a time when he was but nine years of age, when he and Markus spent an entire afternoon climbing various trees and romping through the underbrush. Yes, this was exactly what he needed— time alone to contemplate his life before returning to the number of hefty responsibilities heaped upon him like manure in a dung heap.

Ten minutes later, the babbling of the river reached him well before he arrived at its bank. He had forgotten how soothing the sound of the rushing water could be. A tree long since fallen joined the flanking banks, connecting his cousin’s property to another.

Colin had never met the family— the Silverstones if he recalled correctly— who owned the adjoining property, but he had heard of them. From what Markus had told him, they were a thieving lot who believed that anything they found belonged to them, even if it was discovered on another’s property. Apparently, they had stolen quite a number of tools, so many that Markus had been forced to place locks on all the outbuildings to keep them out.

What worried Markus the most, however, were not the objects they pilfered but rather that the Silverstones had claimed the river as theirs when it clearly belonged to the Remingtons.

Regardless of who owned it, Colin found the sights and sounds relaxing, and he took another drink of the honey wine. It really was quite tasty. In a way, it reminded him a bit of sherry only sweeter. He had drunk something else that was very much like it, but he could not bring to mind what it was.

As he watched the water flowing past, his mind drifted of its own accord. His mother was relentless in her insistence that he marry sooner rather than later, and Colin had no valid reason to argue with her.

The problem was the woman he was meant to marry. If only he could find one who had her own opinions, who made up her own mind and did not feel the need to agree with everything he said. An intelligent woman without being obstinate or shrewish. If he could find a woman with those qualifications, he would have the banns read that instant. He could not remain alone forever, nor did he want to. He desired a bride at his side, but she had to be more than his wife. She also had to be his friend and confidante.

He would not be disappointed if she also had attractive features.

Taking another drink to quench his thirst, Colin walked along the riverbank. Many young ladies had gone to great extremes to catch his eye. What they wanted, however, was not to know him for who he was. No, their interest lay in the fact that if they were to marry, they would then become the duchess. Could he fault them for such aspirations? No. Yet, could he not find one, just one, who wanted to know him?

Perhaps that was far too much to ask. After all, did he know himself? He glanced down at his finger. The gold band with its red ruby indicated he was a duke, but surely he was more than that. But what exactly he did not know.

“Colin Remington, blacksmith,” he said with a laugh. If only it were true.

The river had done its job, for his bad had a kind of weightlessness to it and the sound of his own laughter delighted him.

“What woman would marry me then? No, they want a duke, not a blacksmith. They’re all the same.”

And nothing could have been truer. Every young lady he had been forced to meet was exactly like every other young lady, both in appearance and demeanor. All wore the latest fashions, styled their hair in the same coiffures. Not one stood out amongst the others as an individual. Oh, they had different hair and eye color. Some were rail-thin while others were plump. Tall, short, sharp nose, button nose. Yes, they had their own individual qualities. But in too many ways, in the ways that mattered, they were far too much alike.

A bead of sweat trickled down his cheek and his head suddenly felt light. He had clearly spent far too long in the sun. Turning his back to the river, he walked over to the shade of a nearby tree. Indeed, it was far cooler there.

He leaned his back against the trunk, placing his coat on the ground beside him, and took another large swallow to wet his dry throat. Then he placed the half-empty bottle beneath his coat and watched the river rush past. It had been a very long time since he felt this relaxed, and he stretched his legs out in front of him and allowed the smooth bark of the poplar tree to press into his back.

Oh, yes, it felt so nice to relax.

His eyes grew heavy, and promising himself to nap for only a few moments, he allowed sleep to wash over him.