Page 26 of The Ambiguous Enigma of the Hunted Lady
One seal that caught his eye above all the rest was a personal piece of postage from the Worthington estate. The wax was sealed with the mark of his nephew, the Duke of Worthington.
“What have you to say for yourself, Kenneth?” Cornelius muttered, fishing up the envelope.
Cornelius was very fond of his nephew, for it seemed he was all that was left of his brother. His sister-in-law, that Juliet, her he could do without, but his nephew held a special place in his heart.
Cornelius sliced open the letter with his ivory implement; he had developed a taste for ivory ever since he had taken that voyage to India. In his mind, it was one of the most beautiful materials on God's green earth.
He plucked out the paper and unfolded it delicately. He read the words penned below.
10thof August, 1819
Dearest Uncle Cornelius,
I write to you with a variety of news, some of which you will be glad of at least. Firstly, I urge you to ignore the rumors regarding my latest action; I acted only with chivalry at heart and hold no ill relations with criminality. This, I can only hope to assume you already know, but alas, it seems I never learn to mind whomever is watching.
Regarding my business, I will travel to London in the coming days to arrange the details with your office. I should expect to see you come Wednesday, or Thursday at the latest, that is lest you join me for the Glorious Twelfth, and then we may make the journey together. I have already managed what we previously discussed regarding the licenses. I shall speak with you soon.
Your loving nephew,
Kenneth Wilson, His Grace, The Duke of Worthington
The handwriting was such that Cornelius could tell Kenneth had only written the meat of the message, and that it had been formatted by someone else, under supervision of course. His nephew had always hated any sort of formality, even in writing.
“Daniel, most likely.” Cornelius uttered, glancing over the note again.
He had seen the papers, telling of some medieval scuffle between the Duke of Worthington and some street thugs over the well-being of a damsel in distress. It was very like Kenneth to be involved in such a fuss; Cornelius had always admired his nephew's disinterest in public opinion. It may serve him ill in the long run, Cornelius reasoned, but it was damn brave of him in the meanwhile.
He had no trouble believing his nephew. He knew he was not acting out of personal motive of any sort, regardless of the gossip. He was also glad to see mention of the licenses; this was good news that indicated the next phase of his current project could continue.
He set the letter aside and resumed looking at the pile. Forking through the papers he saw another that chilled him. He retrieved it, an envelope sealed with the image of a schooner, and read it in secret behind his desk.
Once he had done so, he crumpled the paper, and fed it into his flickering candles so that it was consumed fully, torn apart into wispy ash.
After doing so he sat with a heavy sigh, crossing his arms and said to himself, “Why can nobody do anything proper themselves?”
Chapter 9
Kenneth rose that day with an energy that he reserved for very select occasions each year. It happened but four or five times throughout the twelve months that he would be so unreasonably excited for the day's events.
The day in question was the twelfth of August, known to the sportsmen of the country as “the Glorious Twelfth.” It was the beginning of a hunting season, Red Grouses, specifically, over all of England. It was a long-ingrained hunting tradition that had the sportsmen of the land up before dawn, brimming over with anticipation.
In fact, it was so loved among hunters – and of the House of Lords, many hunted – that rumors had circulated about a bill that would create a national holiday in the day's honor.
Holiday or not, Kenneth had made sure to take the whole of the day. He was up a good ways before the sun, and he sprang from his bed with the jump of a jackal.
He had risen long before Daniel had come to attend to his drapes, so Kenneth flung them open himself with a grand gesture, his elegant house robes fluttering out on all sides.
“What a fine day it will be.” he announced openly.
Kenneth went downstairs with the idea of a piping breakfast and found that the few servants who were awake had only just begun to stoke the fires. Unperturbed, Kenneth informed them that he would take it as soon as it was ready.
The young Duke of Worthington made his way towards the back patio and passed a very weary-eyed Daniel along the way. The manservant gave Kenneth a confused and startled look, no doubt to see him up so early, and offered to help him prepare for the day.
“Today, I feel I will delay that a spell.” Kenneth replied, and stepped out onto the patio.
The day was slowly warming as the first of the sun's red brow peered over the eastern sky. At first, it cast long shadows on the tree line, falling out over the fields. But the sun ascended quickly, and within what seemed mere moments the whole of the landscape was lit up around him.
“Glorious morning, isn't it?” a familiar voice caught Kenneth by complete surprise, and he whirled about to see his uncle stepping out through the threshold.
