"Then evidently your research into Lucian Darcmoor's demise proved inaccurate." Catherine would have continued with her explanation, but Charles's expression startled her into silence. His eyes glazed over, his lips pinched shut, and his hands balled into tight fists. He looked on the verge of springing forward and attacking her.
"I had hired a trustworthy solicitor to see to all my legal matter and to make certain all facts were accurate." He spoke slowly and articulately like a man attempting to control his anger.
Catherine sought to placate him, his troubled mood filling her with concern. She had never seen him so agitated and near to losing control of his temper. "I'm certain the solicitor attended properly to the matter. News and information when sent over a great distance has a way of becoming distorted."
"Perhaps, but this man has no right to my properties and the Darcmoor fortune. All of it belongs to me. My uncle, Elliot Darcmoor, especially requested that I gain full title and rights to the Brynwood estate."
"In the event of his son's death," Catherine corrected.
"Of course," Charles agreed quickly. "But Uncle Elliot had searched for his son and had discovered, and believed without a doubt, that Lucian, his only heir, had been killed in a pirate attack."
"But he wasn't," Catherine said. "He is alive, and rightfully the Darcmoor properties, title, and fortune belong to him. I'm sure if you speak with your cousin he will settle a handsome account on you for your troubles."
Charles sprang out of his seat. "Settle an allowance on me with my own money!"
Catherine jumped, startled, and grasped the shawl protectively around her.
Dunwith was beside him in a second. "I must ask you to leave. You have upset Lady Catherine and she is still recovering from her illness."
Charles turned on the man to argue, but thought better of it, especially after meeting Dunwith's determined expression.
"Again, Catherine, I beg your forgiveness," Charles said with a bow. "I am upset and not myself. I meant no disrespect."
"Come and speak to my father when he returns from London. He was called away for a few days on an urgent political matter," Catherine said, hoping her offer would appease his anger.
"Thank you, Catherine. You have been most generous and I will make certain to contact your father upon his return." With a perfectly executed bow he left the room with Dunwith close on his heels.
The morning dawned gray and cloudy and by afternoon a fine rain fell over the countryside sprinkling the early summer flowers and leaving a light chill and fog in the air.
Cozy and warm, Catherine sat by the hearth in the drawing room, the flames chasing away the dampness.
Lorna Belford, gray-haired and dressed in her Sunday best, sat stiff and straight on the settee directly across from the hearth. Her short legs, Catherine noticed, were stretched out with her damp boots tilted toward the fire to dry. "I don't know what your want from me," Lorna said apprehensively and with an edge of defense.
Catherine had sat up in bed most of the previous night preparing for this meeting. She had compiled an endless list of questions and written numerous reasons as to why she sought to discuss the Darcmoors with a former servant of theirs. Now faced with the prospect of discovering information of Lucian's and her father's past she faltered, fearful of what she might learn.
"I don't know anything, m’ lady," Lorna insisted when Catherine didn't respond.
Catherine regained her courage. "With the new earl in residence at Brynwood I thought it would be best to learn about his family before inviting him to a small dinner gathering I have planned."
Lorna nodded. Social status she understood.
Catherine had Dulcie pour them tea and Lorna began to relax, enjoying the luxury of being served instead of being the server.
“Marissa Darcmoor was a beautiful woman with the most uncommon hair color I had ever laid my eyes on. Blood-red. The servants would whisper with envy about it."
Catherine smiled, wondering if her child would inherit Lucian's unique hair color.
"The earl, Elliot Darcmoor, was a strange one if you'll excuse me for saying so, m’ lady," Lorna said with a nod, and reached for a scone on the plate on the table in front of her. "I never did think he loved his wife. He treated her with an indifference that was downright mean and abusive. But oh, how she loved that son of hers."
Catherine waited anxiously while Lorna chewed her scone.
The elderly woman wiped her mouth with her napkin and continued. "He had the devil in him, he did. But he listened to his mother. His father —" Lorna shook her head. "His father didn't have an ounce of love in him for the boy. He acted as though the child wasn't his."