A Cold Legacy

 

TWENTY-THREE

 

 

ELIZABETH’S ATTENTION WAS CONSUMED over the next day with watching Hensley for signs that he was growing more violent. His body didn’t age, but it did deteriorate. Elizabeth admitted she had already replaced his failing liver twice and his heart once. Now it was his brain that concerned us—the flesh might be breaking down and making him act irrationally. After the Beast, the last thing we needed was another madman.

 

The only piece of brightness in our lives was the impending wedding. No one was more excited than McKenna to hear of the change in date, and she flew into a flurry of preparations, telling the girls to search the moors for any pretty greenery, spending the morning baking us sample cakes.

 

“I took the liberty of picking my three favorite recipes,” she said. “Not to mention the three with ingredients we can get this time of year. Go on, now. Tell me which you’d prefer for the big day.”

 

Ever since Edward’s funeral my heart had felt as though it was missing a small piece, but for her sake I picked up the fork and tried the chocolate cake. To her credit, it was delicious. I took a bite of the other two as well. When I met Montgomery’s eyes over the cakes, I smiled for the first time in days.

 

“Oh, this shall be such a happy day for the manor, after poor Mr. Prince’s death, and Valentina’s as well.” McKenna chattered on like a mother hen. “No one has been wed on the grounds since Elizabeth’s mother some forty years ago. I was just a girl, not much older than Moira is now. A duke from London came to give the bride away. He was a distant uncle. He brought with him the most beautiful horses any of us had ever seen.” She rambled to herself, thinking back on fonder days.

 

An idea seized me as I thought about her words. “If you’ll excuse me, I have an errand to run.”

 

Before they could answer, I grabbed another bite of cake and ate it while I ran outside and crossed the courtyard.

 

“Balthazar?” I stuck my head in the barn. “Are you in here?”

 

The sound of a mumbled song came from the tack room. “A Winter’s Tale,” my mother’s song. Balthazar came out with a curved shepherd’s staff, pausing his tune when he saw me, flushing with guilt.

 

“Hello, miss. Pardon my singing—I know it’s a time of mourning, but the goats so like music.” He scratched behind a goat’s ear. “It’s good to see you out of the house in the fresh air. After the funeral I was afraid you and Miss Lucy would stay hidden away for days.”

 

“I suppose life at the manor must continue, whether Edward is here or not.” I watched him scoop some feed for Carlyle’s donkey. “It’s good of you to help with the animals.”

 

“I don’t mind. I like to stay busy. And the little girls don’t much like getting their hands dirty, except Moira. She likes the horses. Especially that big bay one.” To my surprise, he handed me a bundle of dried-out carrots. “You could help, miss. If life at the manor continues, that means you must as well.”

 

We crossed into the barnyard, where a light rain settled into our clothes. Balthazar smelled musty, like Sharkey after he’d been tromping through the dew-heavy moors. It was a smell I’d come to love.

 

“That’s actually why I’m here. About trying to move on after Edward. Can I ask you a favor, Balthazar?”

 

“Yes, miss.”

 

“It’s Lucy. She puts on a brave face, but I know Edward’s death must be destroying her inside. She’s so fond of you that I wonder if you might keep an eye out for her. Try to get her outside to breathe some fresh air, maybe help you teach Sharkey some tricks.”

 

He straightened at this, proud. “Of course, miss.” We reached the hutches, and I held the first one open as Balthazar set down one of the shriveled carrots, prodding it toward the nervous rabbit. “There now, little fellow. A special treat.”

 

We moved to the next hutch and Balthazar used his same gentle manner. It occurred to me how different he was with animals than Hensley was. Hensley thought he cared for his pet rats, not realizing he was strangling them with his affection. Balthazar, however, knew exactly what great strength he had, and knew how to be gentle.

 

We finished feeding the rabbits, and Balthazar tipped his hat and started back for the barn.

 

“Wait, Balthazar! That isn’t the main reason I wanted to talk to you.” Rain came harder outside, and we took shelter in the barn’s eaves. I brushed the moisture from my face. “Montgomery and I have decided not to wait until the spring to marry. We’re going to marry next week. A small ceremony. Just the residents of the manor.”

 

His eyes went wide. Before I could react, he pulled me into the warmth of his arms. His comforting musty smell let loose a flood of emotions, and I leaned into him, closing my eyes, wishing this moment could last.

 

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