AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERTWENTY-SIX
Edwina passed a sleepless night tossing and turning in her bed at Haverton House. Her father warmly greeted her, listened carefully to her story, and then sent her off to bed, saying, “There is nothing more that you can do tonight.”
Before she went up to her room, she sent a messenger back to Hillow House for Simon and Lizbeth, explaining what had happened. When the halls fell quiet again, she tried to lay down to rest, but sleep would not take her. The memory of her father in the gaol was still fresh in her mind, and the idea that Fergus faced a similar situation seemed sadly ironic.
Gray light streamed through her windows when she heard voices down the stairs. Throwing on a wrapper, she slipped quietly down the halls, her heart racing with anticipation for news. She found the butler talking with Mr. Barnett.
“Do you have news?” Edwina asked breathlessly, hurrying down the stairs.
Mr. Barnett looked up; his expression was tired and forlorn. “I wish it was better, Your Grace.”
Her stomach dropped, and her shoulders sagged. “What happened?”
“Well, the constable is holding His Grace for now,” Mr. Barnett explained, shaking his head. “A couple of other men and I tried to argue that there was no proof against him, but Lord Somersby seemed adamant to have him held.”
“What will happen to him?” Edwina gasped.
“I suppose he shall remain in the gaol,” he explained then shrugged. “Unless he can get some help from other people in power, I believe they will seek to try him for the crimes.”
Edwina felt her head swim and reached out to steady herself on an end table. The butler moved quickly to support her.
“I wish I had better news,” Mr. Barnett apologized then bowed. “I shall take my leave.”
“Thank you,” Edwina breathed weakly, and with a sad smile, Mr. Barnett ducked back out the door.
“Let me have breakfast made ready for you,” the butler said gently, guiding her toward the parlor.
She just nodded and sat on the couch, where the butler guided her, putting her head in her hands. Exhaustion caught up with her from the long evening. Only a few minutes after the butler left, her father made his way down to the parlor.
“I thought I heard voices,” he said, sitting next to her. He took her hands comfortingly. “What news?”
“Not much,” Edwina said, leaning her head on his shoulder, too tired to even cry. “He will wait in the gaol for now until his trial.”
“Then there is still hope,” Father pointed out. “After all, you got me out of prison.”
She laughed. “I am already married, now, though, Papa. I cannot leverage that again.”
“But you refused to give up on me. Do you love this man?”
Her father’s question gave her pause. She thought about his question carefully for a moment before saying, “I suppose I had not thought about it before.”
“I may not like the man very much for my own reasons,” Father continued, “but, obviously, his well-being means a lot to you.”
“It would be reasonable for me to worry about my own welfare if my husband is accused of being a demented murderer. I would be cast out by society and destitute.”
“But that is not what upsets you, is it?” Father asked. He drew his shoulder from underneath her and tipped her chin up to look her in the eye. “You do care about him.”
“I do,” she admitted. In a rush, she added, “Oh, Papa. I tried to warn him. He did not want to listen to me. Why could he not just have listened to me?”
“He is young and stubborn,” Father laughed. “I remember when I was his age. I simply adored your mother. I doted over her. But blast, if I did not do everything to nearly muck it up.”
Edwina frowned, surprised. “But you have always been open and honest about your feelings.”
“There is such thing as too open and too honest. It nearly drove your mother away!” he laughed. He patted Edwina’s hands reassuringly. “Your husband and I may be opposite sides of the same coin, but I know with your kindness, patience, and persistence, he will come around.”
“But how?” Edwina asked in frustration. She tapped her fingers on her cheek, trying to come up with ideas.
“Focus on getting him out of prison to start with,” Father told her. “One step at a time.”
