The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2) by Sahara Kelly (classic children's novels txt) 📕

“I would say that is a logical reconstruction, my Lady,” agreed Giles. “I can also add that he was most likely returning to collect his weapon when he himself was attacked and killed.”

Silent for a moment, all three people stayed close, perhaps drawing comfort from each other’s presence.

Finally Gwyneth spoke. “We must go back and tell them, Jeremy.” She lifted her chin. “We can tell Evan that the man who shot him has paid the ultimate price. And we can now begin to live our lives without this shadow hanging over us.”

Jeremy’s smile dawned, warming Gwyneth’s heart. “Indeed we can, dear lady. Indeed we can.” He turned. “We’ll see you back at the Manor, Giles.”

Giles nodded and waved them away.

“I feel lighter already,” said Gwyneth as they emerged onto the smooth grass. “And look, the sun has come out. An excellent omen, wouldn’t you say?”

Jeremy looked down at her, glanced around, and then dropped a quick kiss on her upturned mouth. “I would say it’s a very good omen, sweet one. But there is one better. Your smile. That is the best omen of all.”

*~~*~~*

Giles stood silent guard as several men approached with a gate. On it was a pile of sacking with which to cover the body. The news had spread rapidly and not long after Gwyneth and Jeremy’s departure, word arrived that a cart was on its way through the wood. It would stop at the far end of the path, away from the Manor lawns.

The body would then be transported to the village and probably on to Little Maddington, where runners would be sent to Sir Gerald Ffolkesborough, the Lord Lieutenant. Giles would be quite happy to see it all loaded onto that man’s shoulders. There was no reason at all to include mention of anything to do with Wolfbridge, other than Randschen was a distant acquaintance of the Lady. He had no valuables on him, so robbery was the obvious motive.

As Giles saw that all was taken care of, he left the men with a word of thanks and a promise to be available should he be needed. Then he turned and made his own way down the path Jeremy and Gwyneth had taken earlier.

His steps were measured as his thoughts churned.

Did this crime truly mark the end of the blackmail threats against Gwyneth?

He hoped so, but failed to quell a tiny seed of doubt. Why would Randschen try to blackmail Gwyneth, and then decide to shoot her, without asking for money, as the note had suggested?

Besides which, Randschen already knew that the estate was not in Gwyneth’s name nor under her control. She had the living, and the title of Lady of Wolfbridge. But there was no fortune to be gained by either marrying her or killing her.

Could he have been so incensed at her refusal of his offer that he determined to kill her out of revenge?

It seemed highly unlikely, but then again Giles did not know Randschen, and from Jeremy’s story it would seem that there was a streak of appalling behaviour rampant in that family.

He preferred facts to assumptions. And the fact was, without question, Baron Randschen was dead. Someone had borrowed a bit of the forest and beaten the man to death with it. Specifically his face and head, and with great force.

Giles wondered what kind of man, in what kind of mood, could deliver such a violent and brutal attack.

But again, he had to remind himself that savage though it was, it had removed the threat of more violence against Gwyneth and Wolfbridge.

For this alone, he was relieved. Especially since the time was coming when he had to make some difficult decisions himself.

He emerged into the sunshine and paused for a few moments, staring at the vista before him.

To his left was Wolfbridge Manor, its warm grey stones surrounding sparkling windows which would take him into the ballroom. The decorative edgings and the softened lines of the building were appealing, as was the splash of colour offered by the fruit trees that grew on the other side of the lawns, some distance away.

Beyond that, the hills were a soft green haze. If he walked on, he would turn to see the full front of the Manor, its steps leading down to the gravel drive. There were colours there now, as well, although the azaleas had already bloomed. Other shrubs flowered, and he made a mental note to remind Gabriel that some weeding should be on the agenda, especially on the edges of the steps.

It was a natural thought, born of over two decades spent watching the life of Wolfbridge Manor. To Giles, it was almost a living thing, a building with character, flaws, strengths and beauty.

He hoped his care had kept it so, and perhaps improved it here and there.

The early summer weeding was vital, as was the autumn leaf clearing. Mr Greymarch would gather his lads and help when necessary, since he’d lived near Wolfbridge longer than Giles. The snow was rolled if it fell too deeply, and in the spring the dead wood would be collected, to dry under the summer sun, much as broken branches would be gathered all year long. Firewood was always a priority and would remain so as far as Giles could tell.

So much lay unchanged, he thought, from the time the first Lady of Wolfbridge set about creating her dictates for the estate. It had probably looked the same centuries ago, and he spared a moment to wonder if an earlier servant had walked the lawns as he himself did now.

For a man not given to undue amounts of retrospect, Giles surprised himself with his thoughts.

But he knew they were the result of many different things, some—like this morning’s unpleasant discovery—a part of everyone’s life at Wolfbridge. Others were