| |
Charles stared out the window of his townhouse while his servants hurried about readying things for his trip to Weymouth. Of course, it had been very short notice for them to prepare, but with the terrible mood Charles had been in the past few days, there was something undeniably amiss.
He had felt badly before he learned of what Emma had been doing in his absence. After learning of it, he realised it would be best to return and discover precisely what was going on.
The manservants’ footsteps behind him began to blend into the background as Charles began to allow his thoughts to spiral downward. Perhaps Emma was engaged in an illicit relationship with Joseph?
Why else would she accompany him to events and social gatherings?
“No, she would not do such a thing,” he said, muttering to himself. Would she?
“Your Grace,” he heard behind him.
Charles spun around and looked at one of his staff standing in the doorway. “What is it?”
“Lord Melton wishes to see you.”
“Send him in,” Charles said, knowing it could only be Robert.
Footsteps sounded once again and within moments, Robert stood in the doorway.
“Good evening, brother.”
“Is it truly a good evening?” Charles asked.
Robert’s brow furrowed and stepped inside. “That certainly depends on who you ask.”
“Indeed,” Charles said and turned towards the table beside him. A glass decanter stood there, with two glasses beside it. “Would you care for a drink?”
“That would be delightful,” Robert said and removed his hat. “I heard from Lord Hunt you were planning on traveling to Weymouth tonight.”
Charles shook his head. “Those men are worse than women, gossiping and discussing things they ought not to speak of.”
He poured the amber-coloured whiskey into both glasses before handing one to Robert.
“Is it true?” Robert asked.
Charles nodded once. “Indeed.”
“It is dangerous traveling at this time of the evening and into the night. It is a long journey,” Robert said.
“I am aware.”
“I will make the trip with you, then, to ensure you arrive safely. Such a journey, although we have travelled it many times before, is not one to take alone.”
Charles sipped his whiskey and shook his head. “No. I cannot expect that of you. You are needed here in London, and I do not wish to inconvenience you.”
“It will not be an inconvenience.”
Charles stared at his brother for a moment, assessing just how strongly he felt about the topic. “If you feel obligated, I cannot change your mind. But we must make haste. I am compelled to return to Finlay Hall as speedily as possible.”
Robert took a large swig of his whiskey and his brow furrowed. “Why the haste?”
Charles tapped his finger against the glass and pursed his lips.
“I will merely keep asking until you give me an answer,” Robert said.
Charles sighed and lowered his gaze. He emptied the contents of his glass and refilled it once more. He was not the kind of person who would normally consume whiskey at such a rapid pace, but the situation with Emma and Joseph caused him unimaginable frustration. He was certain his brother would understand, as he was even more rational in character.
Charles sat on his leather-covered chair and drew in a deep breath.
“What on earth is the matter, Charles? You are causing me to worry. Is it Emma or the children? Are they well?”
“The children are perfectly well, and Emma also. Perhaps more than fine, in Emma’s case.”
“What do you speak of, Charles?”
Charles drank his whiskey again, in large gulps, then placed the empty tumbler on the table once more. “I have been made aware that my wife has been spending an unusual amount of time with our cousin.”
“Joseph?” Robert asked.
“Indeed. Apparently, she has been accompanying Joseph to numerous events and social gatherings.”
Robert lowered his glass and his brow furrowed. “You don’t honestly believe that to be true, do you?”
“What else am I supposed to believe?”
“Charles, this is Emma. She would not do such things. She is an intelligent woman, and she notices more than you give her credit for. She is an observer, which is why you struggle to come to agreement on some matters.”
“My disagreements with my wife are none of your concern,” Charles said.
Robert raised his hands and nodded. “You are correct, and I apologise for overstepping my boundaries. I trust this is a misunderstanding. There is not a single part of me that believes there is any truth in these tales.”
“I am simply wondering how long this has been happening” Charles said, not paying any attention to his brother.
The whiskey had twisted the situation in his mind. Emma must be having an illicit affair with his cousin. She was guilty and he wished to return to Weymouth to confront her.
“Listen to me, brother.” Robert urged. “There is no evidence of this, and I hope you do not consider the tales of two men who have nothing better to do than discuss other people’s lives. If you do, you are as big a fool as they are.”
“I am not a fool!” Charles rose to his feet and glared angrily at Robert. “I have given her everything her heart desires. I gave her three beautiful children, a lavish estate, all the gowns and jewellery she deserved.”
Robert pursed his lips and shook his head. Then he rose to his feet and held his hand out to Charles. “Allow me to escort you to your chambers.”
“I do not require assistance,” Charles said, but when he stepped forward, he felt unstable.
He took Robert’s hand instead of falling.
“You are a very rotten drunk, brother,” Robert said, as he assisted his brother up the narrow stairs. “And you are in no state to address Emma, or anyone else, for that matter.”
“I am aware of the fact,” Charles said, a hint of disparagement in his voice as Robert led him into his chambers.
“Rest for a while, and I will wake you as soon as we are ready to depart,” Robert said. “I will ensure that the servants ready everything according to your liking.”
“Thank you, brother,” Charles said as he lay on his bed in the dark bedchamber. “I don’t know what I would do without you,”
“Sleep now,” Robert said. “We will speak later.”
*
“RISE AND SHINE, YOUR Grace.”
Charles opened his eyes and noticed it was very dark outside. Robert had promised him a few hours of sleep, and the time had certainly passed quickly. He rose from the bed and stared at Robert, who held a lamp in his hand.
“The carriage is outside and waiting,” Robert said.
“Have you ensured the servants packed everything?” he asked.
“Charles, this is certainly not the first time they have prepared you for a trip to Weymouth. They are more than equipped.”
Charles bent down to fasten his boots and shook his head. “You have not answered my question.”
Robert sighed loudly. “Indeed. I ensured they packed everything.”
“What about breakfast? I am rather famished.”
“The kitchen maids have prepared provisions for us both and packed a hearty basket.”
Charles approached the desk. “It seems you have thought of everything.”
“You were incapacitated and I only did what you expected of me. I may be your younger brother, Charles, but I am still here to do things for you if you are unable.”
“I will remember that,” Charles said.
He opened the small drawer of his writing desk and as he reached his hand inside, he noticed the drawer was empty.
“I took the liberty of removing your pistol from your desk. There is no place for it in the coach or in Weymouth, especially not if you allow your mind and your insinuations that are not based on facts to overcome you,” Robert said.
Charles spun around to glare at his brother. “How dare you?”
“Believe me, as much as you are a stubborn sod, I do not wish to visit you in a jail cell, your hands shackled to the wall because you murdered a family member.”
“Are you referring to Joseph or Emma?” Charles asked.
“Does it matter?”
“I supposed it does not. Murder is murder.”
“Indeed, it is. Now, shall we leave?”
They exited the townhouse and climbed aboard the coach. Within minutes, the vehicle sped through the streets of London, embarking on their long journey to Weymouth.
Initially it was quiet in the coach, as Charles dozed for short intervals while Robert lost himself within the pages of a book he had brought along.
Charles did not have much in common with his brother, and it was best to stay quiet in order to avoid disagreements.
Charles was still angry at the thought of what Emma was doing—or allegedly doing—in Weymouth with Joseph. Luckily, he would soon be able to confront his wife, and the truth would be revealed. It was the uncertainty that frustrated Charles the most. He had been convinced he could trust Emma, and that she wouldn’t do anything to bring scandal or shame to their family.
He was torn at that moment, especially since Robert assured him that Emma would never behave in that manner, at least not willingly.
Those words stuck in his mind and he looked at Robert, still reading his book.
“What did you mean when you said Emma would not willingly do something scandalous or immoral?” Charles asked.
Robert glanced up and slowly expelled a breath. “Emma is devoted to you—to her family—and she would never do something foolish to place that in jeopardy. The only reason she would act in such a way would be due to manipulation or duress.”
“You seem fairly confident in your opinion of Emma,” Charles said, eyeing his brother.
“As you should be. She has never given you any reason to be suspicious of her.”
“Those rumours had to have come from somewhere,” Charles said.
“Or they were merely exaggerated? Do you not recall what happened with Thomas and Rebecca? They were entangled in a web of lies, published on the front page of the Weymouth newspaper.”
“But there was some truth to it,” Charles said.
“I am not continuing to rage with you over trivial matters, Charles.” Robert glanced out the window. “Are we to stop at the Willow Inn as we usually do?”
“No.”
“No? Will we stop at another inn?”
“No.”
“You are being too abrupt, Charles. Where will we overnight?”
“We will not stay at any inn. We can, however, stop at the next town to rotate the horses, but I am most certainly not staying overnight.”
Robert stared angrily at Charles and shook his head. “You cannot be serious.”
“I must reach Weymouth as soon as I possibly can.”
“You have lost your mind, brother.”
“Perhaps, but I would rather think of it as being determined.”
Robert shook his head and stared at the rolling hills passing them by in the distance.
“If it was Julia, would you behave any differently?” Charles asked.
“I trust her enough to know that she would never do such a thing. She would never betray me.”
Charles lifted his chin. “You have the luxury of love. I do not.”
“That doesn’t mean Emma doesn’t care for you and respect you, Charles. You are the father of her children, her husband for more than a decade. I am not convinced those tales are true.”
“I must know, Robert. I simply must. I cannot pretend I didn’t hear those words spoken about her. It is not possible for me to merely move on as if nothing had happened.”
“You are placing unwarranted strain on your already fragile relationship. I would advise you to be gentle when speaking to her. Accusing her of things she has not done will only break the trust between you.”
“Perhaps there was never any trust to begin with,” Charles said.
Robert stared quietly at him, then shook his head.
Charles noticed his brother’s defeated expression and thought it best to simply remain quiet. There was nothing Robert, or anyone for that matter, could say that would make him reconsider his actions.
He had to know the truth and hear it from the people who were at the centre of the rumours. Emma and Joseph. They were the only people he had any interest in speaking to. Or perhaps if Emma admitted it openly to him, he would merely beat his cousin down to the ground and leave him there to rot.