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Chapter Fifty
As the following morning dawned, Elvington Manor was quiet and still, a heavy blanket of fear and shock hanging over the household.
After Thomas and Gerard had been brought in and sequestered by the physician and the rest of those who had come to help, Evelina had watched as the Dowager Duchess of Elvington insisted that servants remained in their quarters and keep to themselves until the worst of the crisis had passed.
That had been her last coherent command. Since then, the two women had been seated silently together in the drawing room, awaiting news as to the outcome of the surgeries.
Slowly, dawn light bled through the window, painting the room pale gold, a mockery of the tragedy of the night before.
No sooner had Evelina had this thought, than chimes erupted from the front door. She practically jumped out of her skin at the noise, half expecting more gunshots.
The butler—one of the few members of the staff permitted to be out and about at the moment—went to answer the door, bleary-eyed himself.
“Forgive me, My Lord,” the butler greeted whoever had knocked. “But there has been an emergency. We cannot receive visitors at this moment.”
“It is ‘Your Grace,” the furious voice of Evelina’s father corrected, causing her to tense in shock from her place in the drawing room. “And emergency or not, I demand to know what has become of my daughter.”
“Your Grace,” the butler corrected himself. “Iamsorry, but at the moment, there is nothing we can…Your Grace! Wait—”
Without waiting for further permission, Evelina’s father evidently pushed his way into Elvington Manor. She tensed as she heard his heavy footfalls striding over the marble floor of the foyer until he reached the threshold of the drawing room, and appeared, huffing and puffing, before Evelina and the Dowager Duchess.
“Evelina,” her father said, eyes ablaze as he looked down upon her. “I haveno words. But perhaps you do. Please, explain yourself this instant.”
Evelina just looked up at her father. What was she to say? It occurred to Evelina that she had not moved from this same position for nearly four hours at the very least. She found she could not move her lips, could not form words. What was wrong with her?
“Your Grace,” said the Dowager Duchess, rising to her feet across the room, just as the flustered butler scrambled up behind him, abashed at having failed at his job. “I rather think you might explain yourself. How dare you barge in, unannounced and uninvited, at such an early hour no less?”
Father rounded on her and puffed up his chest. “You dare to make accusations at me? After the underhanded dealings of your late husband? And now your Son, who has apparently brainwashed my Daughter—”
“You shall not speak ill of my children,” said the Dowager Duchess, her eyes tearing up, “not now.”
At that, Father had the decency to look confused. Evelina heard words leaving her mouth, flat and emotionless. Her lips felt gummy; her tongue thick, as she said, “The merger that went bad. It was orchestrated by the Marquess of Langwin, not the late Duke of Elvington.”
Father jerked back in surprise and confusion. He looked as though he was struggling to jump from thread to thread like this.
Evelina added, “Lord Wilmore was the anonymous third party.”
At this, Father’s eyes widened further, before suddenly narrowing. “You are a mere girl of nineteen. How can you have possibly come across this information, if there is even any truth to it?”
“I believe I can answer those questions,” said the Constable who had accompanied them back from Gerard’s apartment after the shooting, appearing at the door to the room as well. He had only left the drawing room for a few minutes to let his waiting colleagues know they ought to depart while he remained to take the Russell brothers statements upon the completion of the surgeries…assuming they made it out alive.
All heads turned in the Constable’s direction.
“Ah, a Constable! Thank goodness there is at least one sensible party on the premises.” It seemed to take a moment for his thoughts to catch up to his words. He looked between Evelina and the Dowager Duchess. “Why is there a Constable here?”
The Constable, as promised, was the one to explain. Evelina was glad for that—the Constable went through the events of the evening, and what he had learned thus far about the spoiled merger that had caused both families such grief, in a clinical and detached way. Had Evelina or the Dowager Duchess been the ones to recount the information, their closeness to the subject matter would have certainly made for a messy retelling.
Father was pale by the end of this explanation. “You mean to tell me that not only was my future son-in-law lying about his business standing this entire time, but my eldest daughter nearly died this past evening?” He turned to Evelina, stunned. “Over…over what? Why did you leave the ball, Evelina?”
She swallowed, making the first real effort to find her voice since the Constable had found her screaming Thomas’ name over his unconscious body. “I had just overheard the truth about the merger,” Evelina said. “Though to be entirely honest with you, Father, it was not just about that. I left because I wanted to be with Thomas.” She hung her head. “It seems I am not the woman of my word I thought I was.”
She half expected her father to rage at her again in agreement. Instead, silently, he came and knelt at her feet. “My Dear Child,” he said, and Evelina was surprised to hear tears in his voice. “Lord Wilmoreis not the man ofhisword I thought he was. Or, well, that’s not quite right—admittedly, I cannot say I was enthralled by Lord Wilmore at any step of the way, but I was naïve enough to believe him honest.” He shook his head. To himself, he muttered, “I never do learn, it seems—”
“But Father,” Evelina said, unable to stop herself from reaching out at the pain in his voice. “Your instinct to trust the late Duke of Elvington was not wrong the first time. He did mean to do right by your partnership. It was the Marquess of Langwin who double crossed you. Thebothof you!”
Evelina had been so caught up in her confrontation with Father, she had completely lost sight of the Dowager Duchess presence. “Excuse me,” the Dowager Duchess said stiffly, as though to hide her tears. “I…I must retire. You are both welcome to remain here until the physician brings us proper news. But I cannot be in the same room as this sort of talk.”
Evelina swallowed any attempts at comforting her. It was a dark, inarguable truth that the Dowager Duchess would be in for many months, if not years, of deep, emotional pain. Her own son had done away with her husband, and had nearly succeeded at ending the life of his brother as well, on two separate occasions.
