Page 5 of Once Upon a Winter's Tale
The door to the dining area opened, and the butler approached. “Your Grace, your guest has arrived,” Chambers said, extending a silver salver with an elegant ivory calling card.
Taking the card, His Grace, Albert Stanton, the Duke of Kendall, rolled it over in his hand. “Lord Patrick Brewer, the Earl of Wharton,” he read. “Show him in.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“How coincidental, considering our earlier discussion. This could be an interesting meeting.” Albert looked at his mother. “May we continue this discussion later, Mother?”
“Certainly, Albert. There are a few things we should discuss.”I would describe it as eerie more than coincidental,she thought with a shiver. Her son planned to visit the very property the Countess of Wharton occupied, although she occupied it under her maiden name, Thomas. The timing of the Earl of Wharton’s meeting with her son made it seem more imperative she warn her friend immediately.
Albert needs all these important details before his visit, but there is time for that before he leaves. He must know all of it.
*
Albert entered hisstudy and stared at the picture behind his desk. It was a portrait of his parents with him and his puppy, Buck, when he was a child. The artist had captured the essence of his parents. His father’s eyes sparkled with happiness, and his mother’s face showed deep affection.
It had been a warm day, and they had spread out a picnic. His father had played lawn games with Albert and his new puppy, while his mother leaned against a tree and watched them. When the artist had arrived, he assured the duke he could paint the grass stains out of his white britches. Albert glanced at the green spot on his father’s right leg. Father had told the artist to paint him as he was, grass stain and all.
The memory brought a small tear to his eye but made him smile. If he had the good fortune of having children, he wanted to be the father his own had been to him and his siblings. But that wouldn’t happen soon. He wanted a bride who would be his partner, someone whom he could love and who would love him. It was what he had seen with his parents, and he wanted nothing less.
So far, he had not met that person.
The door opened, and Chambers stepped inside. “Your Grace, Lord Patrick Brewer, the Earl of Wharton,” the retainer announced.
“Thank you. Please show him in.” The duke lowered his voice. “Ask Cook to prepare a tray for me when the earl leaves. I will be in here most of the day.” He planned to complete his correspondence and study the books for the properties.
“Yes, Your Grace.” The butler gave a slight bow and left the room to retrieve the guest. A few minutes later, he reappeared with the dark-headed earl in tow.
“Lord Wharton! It’s nice to see you,” the duke said, coming from behind his desk. “It’s been… how long? Two years? Now, you are an earl.”
“Your Grace, Patrick, please. I am still becoming acquainted with my title. But we were friends, and I would like to think we still are,” the earl said, smiling. “Inheriting the title has been a change, but Uncle Felix seemed to lose interest in life when his wife disappeared those many years ago. He became a recluse and never remarried. My understanding was after he buried the fourth child, the countess left. Uncle never pursued her.” Pain was in his eyes when he discussed the late earl.
“That’s a tragic story. I suppose I had not kept up with him. I imagine the deaths of so many children can sour a marriage. Your uncle was a close friend of my father’s, but I don’t recall seeing him at Father’s funeral,” the duke said, shaking his head. “And please, call me Albert.”
“The last time I saw you, I believe it was at Tattersalls, with the duke… er… your father.” The earl gulped audibly. “I’m sorry. It was thoughtless of me to bring that up.”
“No, please do not apologize, Patrick. My father’s death was tragic, and we miss him terribly. Our family keeps him alive in conversation, but our lives have moved on. It is as he would have wished,” Albert assured him. “But you are right. We were at Tattersalls to buy my sister a horse. It was a birthday surprise.”
“That’s a grand present! I’m sure she treasures the animal,” Patrick replied. “I have not seen your sister in a handful of years. There was that one trip home with you during a Christmastide holiday when we were about twelve. I recall she tagged along with all of us boys, and we could not shake her, no matter what we tried.”
“Yes, she was our constant shadow at that age. Lauren is out riding her horse as we speak,” Albert said with a chuckle. “She’s quite attached.”
Patrick heaved a small sigh. “It’s great to catch up, but I know you must wonder why I’m here, so let me get to the heart of my visit.”
Albert gave a nod. “Would you care for some refreshment?” He walked to the decanter of brandy.
“Yes, thank you. I’m sure it’ll give an extra layer of warmth. The weather seems colder than usual,” the earl said, accepting a glass. “You mentioned my uncle and your father were friends.”
“My mother considered the countess her closest friend, and I recall her being extremely upset when all this transpired. As a child, I asked no questions, but I remember their sadness. Father and the earl had been friends since Eton, much like us,” Albert said, wondering where this was heading. Patrick needed something from him. That was clear.
“It’s taken me a while to sort through my uncle’s personal effects, and I found some things that I wanted to give to the rightful people,” the earl said, withdrawing a small leather pouch from his pocket. “These are some sealed correspondences Uncle Felix wrote shortly before he died. He addressed one to your father and the other to the Countess of Wharton. I have often thought these letters held answers to questions I have, but they were not mine and I have not opened them.”
“That’s quite honorable. You must have cared a lot about your uncle. It’s hard to hold answers in your hand, but not look at them,” Albert remarked. His admiration for the earl rose.
“Thank you, Your Grace. It’s a matter of integrity. I wanted to assure you they had never been opened.” Patrick sipped his brandy and visibly relaxed. “I also found some personal effects—jewelry, which I would see returned to her if she lives. They were personal gifts from my uncle to her.” He gave a slight shake of his head. “Uncle Felix petitioned to have her declared dead, but changed his mind. I thought he planned to marry another, but that never materialized. Instead, he withdrew. If he wrote a letter to his wife, he likely felt she was alive. It is my hope she lives.”
Albert had not known what to expect with the visit, but the old earl speaking from the grave had not been among his thoughts. He would have to speak with his mother. “Your uncle had all but withdrawn from Society. Are you certain he wrote the notes?”
Patrick gave a pained smile and shook his head. “Uncle called me to his side before he died and told me there were some things he wished for me to know. He asked me to deliver some letters but did not explain to whom he addressed the letters. And I would have forgotten about them because they were not on his desk. I found the letters sticking out of a book of love poems he had on his nightstand. He had purchased it for my aunt when they first married,” the earl explained, before taking a calming breath. “Uncle Felix was an unusual man. But I loved him. We were close, especially when I was younger. He was a different man, then.”
