Page 65 of Secrets of Capell Manor
His aging body had moved faster than usual, and his joints screamed with every step he made toward the stables. He knew he had to hurry. Tonight was different. Edmond was angrier than he’d ever seen him, and Rosalind once again bore the brunt of his dangerous mood.
Rosalind rode out like the devil chased her and Edmond followed. He trailed behind them, unseen, unheard, his old heart heavy with worry. Rosalind headed toward the bog. She knew the route well but it was dangerous at night.
At last, he reached the edge of the marsh and spotted Edmond. The lord was half-submerged in the mire, hurling curses and shouting for help. His eyes widened in surprise when Rosalind returned. She first hesitated at the edge of the muck, but then she waded in and reached out, yelling at him to grab her hand. Edmond’s words were vile, hateful, filled with threats.
The old man’s jaw clenched. Edmond had never deserved her.
Then he saw it—the moment Rosalind made her decision. The compassion for her drowning uncle was snuffed out like a candle in a brisk wind, and now she possessed a look of pity and sad resignation. She stepped back, and watched as Edmond struggled, sinking deeper into the thick, unforgiving mud.
He understood what this meant. Rosalind turned, struggling to get out of the mire, and once clear she rode back into the night as Edmond disappeared beneath the surface, his curses finally silenced forever.
He waited until she was gone before stepping forward. It was his duty to protect the Capell family. His breath was heavy, his limbs aching, but his mind was clear. He knew what had to be done. Rosalind had done what any woman in her place would have—she had survived. But now, there was a body to deal with, and if it was found, there would be questions.
Too many questions.
Slowly, he waded into the bog, grimacing as the mud sucked at his boots. All that could be seen of Edmond was one forearm floating above the black water. It took all his strength to pull the dead weight free from the shallow sink where it had lodged. He winced at Edmond’s face, twisted in a grotesque snarl even in death.
He sighed as he looked down at Edmond. The night was thick around him, the air damp and cold, but he moved with purpose. He worked in silence, his old bones protesting with every movement, but his resolve never wavered. He gathered heavy stones that would sink the man in the deeper end of the bog.
Satisfied he’d added enough rocks to do the job, he pushed the body farther out into the water. He watched as Edmond disappeared.
The sky was beginning to lighten with the first hints of dawn by the time Benton mounted his horse again. He rode back to the manor in silence. What he had done would remain a secret. What he had done, he had done for the family—for Rosalind and for the Capell family name.
As the manor came into view, he straightened his back and rode through the gates. No one would ever know what had happened that night. Rosalind would be safe. The family would endure, as it always had.
He dismounted slowly, his body aching with every step, and returned to his quarters. He washed the mud from his hands and changed his clothes. His heart was heavy, but he had no regrets.
This was his duty, after all.
