Page 13 of A Housekeeper for the Earl of Drinkwater
The butler looked at him dubiously, no doubt fearful that Edward would take the route his father had and drink himself to death.
“Yes,” he said with much reluctance. “There is some in the parlor that he must have forgotten about.”
Edward nodded, gesturing for the butler to bring it to him.
“I would like anything left in there,” he said. “Now.”
Clarke chewed his lip, looking as though he wished to argue with the only remaining master of the manor. Eventually, however, he nodded, leaving the room.
Edward sighed, feeling guilty for adding strain to the clearly already deeply distraught butler, but he was too wrapped in his own grief to dwell on it for long. His entire family was gone, apart from his mother. And he did not expect her to live much longer. If she did live, Edward was sure she would be bedridden for the rest of her life. However long that happened to be.
The butler returned, carrying two bottles of liquor. They looked mostly untouched, and Edward found himself laughing, despite the dire situation in which he found himself.
Clarke was clearly distressed by Edward’s hysterical outburst. He slowly approached Edward, though he kept the bottles close to his chest.
“Are you all right, milord?” he asked.
Edward struggled to compose himself in front of Clarke. He felt both foolish and guilty for having laughed like a maniac, but he’d been quite unable to help himself.
“I suppose I am in shock,” he said, “and after everything you’ve told me about Father; it’s hard to believe he missed those bottles.” He gestured at the bottles Clarke still hugged to his chest.
He snickered again, but this time, the butler seemed to understand. He gave Edward a sad, sympathetic smile, putting the bottles down on the desk.
“I am truly sorry, milord,” he said, bowing. “I wish things were different. I feel terrible for having to be the bearer of such bad news.”
Edward studied the man for a moment. He had served their family since before he and his brothers were born. He must be in a state himself, and Edward felt shame for only thinking of himself.
“Would you care to join me for a drink?” he asked.
Clarke seemed to consider the offer for a moment, undoubtedly tempted. But at last, he sighed and shook his head.
“I should keep my wits about me, milord,” he said, bowing. “Especially now you have returned. I am very grateful for your offer, however.”
Edward nodded, lifting a new bottle in a halfhearted gesture of toasting Clarke.
“The offer stands indefinitely,” he said, uncorking the bottle and taking a drink. “I am certain you could use it just as much as I do just now.”
The butler bowed again.
“Thank you, Milord,” he said. “If you need anything else, please let me know. I shan’t be too far away.”
Edward nodded, toasting the air again.
“Thank you, Clarke,” he said.
The butler nodded and then excused himself. The silence that fell after Clarke left the room made Edward feel once more as if the place was a tomb rather than a home; it was so far from the family home filled with happiness and laughter it had once been. He supposed it was a tomb in a way; everything within the house, and the estate itself, seemed to be either dead or dying. He felt his mental state rapidly deteriorating, not helped by the whiskey, and he wondered idly if he might not find himself in the madhouse soon.
The thought made him laugh wildly again, and he took another long drink from the bottle. But his laughter immediately turned into tears, and he put down the bottle to bury his face in his hands. How could so many bad things happen to one family in such a short time? And what was he to do now?
Composing himself, he stood, removing his jacket and boots. He also removed his service gun from his belt, placing it on the table beside him. Then, he fell back into his chair, tossing his clothing on the floor of the library.If Mother could see me now,he thought with a bitter chuckle.
But his mother could not see him, even though she lay in her room just upstairs. He wondered confusedly if his father and brothers were looking down at him from the heavens with sadness and shame.Too bad if they are,he thought, making a grand show of taking another long drink from the bottle in the cold, empty room. He was so overcome with bitterness, a sudden thought came to him; shame would serve them right for leaving me here to clean up this awful mess.
Suddenly, Edward felt an overwhelming wave of anger, sadness, and hopelessness as one final realization hit home. With his father and both heirs to the title gone, he was the only remaining male of the Taylor family left to take up the mantle of earl. That made him, by default, the new Earl of Drinkwater. And the future of Chimneys rested on him, and him alone.
He dropped the bottle of liquor, catching it just before it hit the ground and shattered. The liquid splashed all over his breeches, however, and he began to laugh again, helplessly. He felt his mind fracturing, and for several moments, all he could do was howl with hysterical laughter. Only when he coughed to catch his breath did he realize that tears were streaming down his cheeks.
The gun on the table caught his attention, and all at once he stopped laughing. He stared at the metal shining in the dull candlelight. Perhaps the solution was simpler than he’d first thought.He was useless to anyone in his current state, and without him, the servants would be free to find other work and take care of themselves, not be tethered to the broken estate of a broken family.
