Page 4 of The Wise Daughter
His father pushed a large armful of sand in his direction. “Today, yes, but tomorrow, I intend to start you on a new course. I’m going to take you from your tutors for an hour or two each day to teach you about everything I do.” He leaned close and whispered. “I’ll teach you the castle’s every secret.”
The memory swam in Aaron’s head, rising and falling like the tide. His father never delivered on his promise. The following day, Aaron had accidentally set fire to the stables. Fortunately, one of the stablehands had quickly put it out before anyone was hurt, but one of the horses had suffered burns on its leg. Aaron clearly remembered the terrifying dread of how angry his father would be when he learned of the accident, but he was only relieved Aaron was all right. Aaron was relieved too, but everything changed after that.
His father grew distant and distracted. He made arrangements to send Aaron to a far-away school in Hesse-Kassel, insisting it was for the best.
Now, years later, Aaron had hardly stepped into his father’s shoes, and already, Holmrook Castle was crumbling like one of his sandcastles.
Aaron shook himself away from his ten-year-old self and settled back to the present day.
“I want Vander and Ruthers on watch tonight.”
Carver hesitated. “Yes, Your Grace.”
Ruthers was a recent addition to the staff, but Aaron had known him for years. Though Carver hadn’t said so directly, Aaron could tell he did not approve of Ruthers. It shouldn’t have mattered whether his steward approved, but it did.
The last letter Aaron had received from his father included the direct admonition that he listen to Carver. Having served as the late duke’s steward, Carver understood how to run things. So Aaron heeded his father’s final counsel by regularly deferring to Carver’s judgement, and Carver fulfilled his responsibilities by moving from his usual home on the estate into the castle to offer Aaron greater assistance.
At first, Carver’s counsel was a relief. Aaron could hide in his bedchamber as he tried to make sense of a home without his parents. He could bear the pain of grief alone knowing Carver was at the helm, but when Aaron noticed valuables going missing, Carver became more than a steward. He became a hovering mother hen who employed the full sway of the late duke’s admonition to keep Aaron out of sight and, thereby, out of danger. If there was a thief among them, they would not find access to Aaron.
Most days, Aaron hardly roamed further than his bedchamber and study, and before he knew it, three months had passed in a numbing daze.
A knock on the door was soon followed by the butler, Chuff. “Pardon the interruption, Your Grace, but a message just arrived. I’m told it’s urgent.” He handed Aaron the missive and left.
As soon as Aaron saw the arrogant handwriting, he crumpled it in his fist.
“Lord Bilford?” Carver discerned.
Aaron nodded, then reluctantly uncrumpled the paper to read.
Dear Ravenglass,
You cannot be at a loss for why I write. I, however, have lost count of the number of times I have entreated you to do the honorable thing…
Aaron’s hand constricted around the paper again and tossed it onto the burning logs on the grate. “It’s the same rubbish. It isn’t my responsibility to replenish his dwindling coffers.”
“Let me handle it, Your Grace,” Carver pled, watching the paper blacken and curl. “You already have enough on your mind.”
Aaron shook his head as the smoky scent of burning paper wafted toward him. Though troubles were piling around him, he was waking up from his daze. If he was going to honor his father’s name and title, he needed to start acting like the duke.
“Bilford claims it is a matter ofmyhonor, though what this says about his, I don’t know.”
Lord Bilford of Keswick insisted that Aaron pay a debt the former duke had supposedly owed him. Aaron didn’t see why he should pay it. He had had nothing to do with the strange wager Lord Bilford claimed to have won, and though Aaron had no idea how he was going to handle Bilford’s demands, he did not want to pass yet another matter on to Carver.
“Anything else to report?”
Carver released a sigh but answered evenly. “There has been more talk. The servants are worried Holmrook Castle is not safe. People are saying you are not fit to be duke.”
Aaron’s shoulders tensed. “What do you make of their talk?”
“That is difficult to say. The people respect the title, just as they respected the old duke, but they feel the change.”
Carver’s words plucked at Aaron’s feelings more than he could have known. “The people need to see me keeping order, Carver.”
“They will, Your Grace. Give it time.”
Aaron ignored Carver’s attempts to console him. “We’ve been going about this business with the thief the wrong way. I need to stop hiding.”Take the reins back.“I’m convinced that keeping to myself only emboldens our thief. I need to know my people better, and they need to know me.”
“Please, Your Grace–”
