Page 1 of Secrets of Capell Manor
Prologue
Lord Edmond Capell squinted at the blurred markings on the cards; his meaty hand trembled as he held them. He’d lost again. With a grunt of frustration, the old lord flung the cards across the table, scattering them like leaves in the wind. Nervous beads of sweat glistened on his brow; his stomach twisted in a sickly churn.
“Pay up, Capell!” his associate slurred, the words tumbling out in a half-belch.
Capell looked down and realized that all his coins would be cleaned out with this loss. He sighed and reached for his mug of ale. But rather than retrieving it, he pushed it over clumsily, and the dark liquid spilled across the table and dripped to the floor.
“And don’t forget what you already owe me,” the younger man bellowed. “I want every last bit of it tonight!”
Sweat now dripped down his back and pooled under his arms. Through his alcohol-induced haze, he knew the man who sat across from him was dead serious. He feared he might not live much longer if he didn’t pay.
“Come on, man! You know I’ll make good on what I owe. I just need a little more time.”
His plea was met with a piercing glance and cold smirk as much as his drunken friend could muster.
Capell shook his head. “One more hand?”
“Why should I play another hand, old man? I’ve already won!”
Capell’s alcohol-soaked brain scrambled for a solution—something that would give him one last chance. He tried to sit up a bit taller, but he only swayed over in his chair. He grabbed the edge of the table and finally managed to say, “I’ll make the deal sweeter. If I lose, I’ll give you what you’ve been hounding me for the last months.”
The young man’s interest piqued, and he sat up straight. “And if I lose?”
“Then my debt to you is erased, and I’ll hear no more of it.”
There was only a brief pause, but then the young man looked Edmond dead in the eyes and said, “Deal the cards, old man.”
Chapter One
England, 1638
The slap from his open hand against her face rang out through her upper chamber. The raised imprint on her left cheek burned and pain radiated through her skull as her head snapped back. The floor rose up to meet her as she fell with a solidthump. She opened her eyes and looked up at her uncle. Saliva spewed from his mouth as he yelled curses down upon her, but her ears rang so loud that she could barely make out his foul tirade.
“You filthy beggar wench! You’ve always been ungrateful!” he screamed with slurred words as she crawled away from him on the floor.
“Uncle! Stop!” Lady Rosalind screamed. She’d crawled as far as she could and was now pressed against the wall. She shielded her face and made herself as small as possible.
With drunken utterances, the lord of the manor continued his rant and she gagged with the smell of his rancid breath as his rage spewed from his mouth,
“I’ve fed you. Clothed you. And given you a roof over your head. You miserable lout! You should be grateful for whatever I give you and do what I say!”
Rosalind, usually hesitant to argue in retaliation against her guardian, could not hold her tongue this time. “Yes, you have, Uncle. But not willingly! The king made you take me in. And it’s not as if I came with nothing! You had my father’s money and squandered all of it! Now I have nothing!
Lord Edmond’s face turned even redder, and a vein bulged and pulsed on his forehead. She pressed harder against the wall and braced herself for another blow.
“I won’t do it! I won’t! And the king would never approve! I would rather die!” Her last words were spoken through clenched teeth.
Edmond responded with a roar and threw her back onto the floor. “You may get your wish, harlot!” As his boot came down to stomp her face, in his drunken state, he lost his balance, stumbled, and fell. Rosalind saw her chance and crawled rapidly from her chamber.
She pulled herself to her feet and ran. Down the stairs, she flew. She both hoped and feared that he would follow her. He was out of control, and he might turn his aggression on the children. She grabbed her cloak that hung by the door leading outside from the kitchen and ran toward the stable as fast as she could.
She bridled her mare but didn’t bother with a saddle. She climbed upon Mercy’s slick back and urged her into a gallop, going as fast as she could safely traverse the dirt road leading away from the manor on the moonless night.
It seemed only a few minutes passed and bile rose in her throat, and her heart jumped as the sound of pounding hooves rose up behind her.
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Capell Manor, Three Weeks Later
