The idea of him, alone in his vast, cold castle, suffering in isolation, was enough to shatter her to tears. More than once she had found herself dashing through the halls of Loughton Grange, driven by the all-consuming impulse to go to him. Each time she had been stopped before she could set foot on thecobbles of the stable yard. Stopped by the invisible chains that held her to her family. Each time she resigned herself to the pain and the sorrow, returning to her succession of gray, numb days.
She could not say how long it had been since Napier's death and Julian's departure. The constables had been to the house along with an investigator from the Crown Coroner’s office. His death had been ruled as natural causes but Ester knew the gossips would be whispering. Those whispers would be riding the wind from Loughton in all directions, outrunning a galloping horse. Whispers of the man known as the Ghoul, the man whose touch was death.
On an uncounted day, perhaps two weeks since Julian's departure, perhaps three, perhaps a month, Helen was calling Ester's name. Ester sat upon a weathered tree stump at the edge of the woods next to Loughton Grange. Before her was a gentle slope of meadows and pastures, dotted with grazing sheep. Green hills rose in the distance and the white shapes of farm buildings sat between, painting the sky with the lines of chimney smoke.
Ester had a wooden box on her lap, opened to reveal paper and a variety of paints which she was mixing with a fine brush. A view of the scene before her was sketched onto the paper in pencil. It was a pastime she had enjoyed in her past before the day she had encountered Viscount Kingsley. In the time before she had met Julian. Now, she practiced it again, not for enjoyment but in an attempt to blank her mind, to fill it with something else besides Julian.
“Essie! Are you there?” Helen called.
Ester sighed, setting down the brush she had been holding idly. “Yes, sister,” she called back, “I am here.”
Helen soon emerged from the trees a few yards away and walked towards Ester through the long grass. Beside her was a familiar face.
“Molly?” Ester exclaimed, rising to her feet. “Is that really you?”
Molly nodded timorously, eyes downcast. Helen looked at her with a kind expression.
“Do not worry, Molly. My sister will help you.”
Ester’s brows furrowed in concern as she approached the pair. “Help? What has happened? Is Julian well?” This last part burst from her lips as an urgent demand, which Molly shrank from.
Helen put a comforting arm about her as was her way. “All is well, dear. I assure you,” she soothed. “Tell Ester what you told me about why you are here.”
“I’m sorry if I alarmed you, Molly,” Ester said softly, her earlier haste giving way to tender concern. “Please, tell me how I can help.”
Ester's mind whirled as it had not since before Julian had left. It felt as though the gray shroud under which she had been existing thus far had been cast aside. Sunlight kissed her face and awakened her heart.
Molly hesitated, wringing her hands. “Begging your pardon for coming here, Miss, but I didn't have nowhere else to go, you see,” she stammered, before she finally broke down, tears spilling over her cheeks.
Ester’s heart clenched with sympathy. Without a word, she took the young girl’s arm and guided her gently to the tree stump that had been her silent companion for so many long, lonely hours. Then she sat in the grass at Molly's feet, legs crossed, Helen beside her.
“Now then, Molly. Take a deep breath, and when you are ready, tell me what is wrong,” Ester said, reassuringly.
Molly gathered herself for a heartbeat longer, then finally spoke. “His Grace has decided to return to Windermere,” was the first revelation.
Ester's heart lurched, but she schooled her features, conscious of Molly's attention tightly focused on her. She didn't want to upset the girl again. She needed to hear more, needed Molly to retain her composure long enough to tell.
“But he said... he said he couldn’t take us with him when he gave up Theydon Mount,” Molly continued, her voice trembling. “Said it wouldn’t be fair on us because of the curse—his blight, hecalled it. Said he wouldn’t take any servants to Windermere, not one, save for Mr. Harper.”
“So he sacked you?!” Helen exclaimed, frank disbelief on her face.
Molly nodded, tears threatening once again. “He paid us handsomely, gave us references... but yes,” she replied, her voice small.
It seemed callous and cold. Ester’s mind flashed to the man she had first encountered at Theydon Mount—the man with the icy reserve, capable of chilling, unfeeling decisions. He had kept her at the castle only because he believed she might die, all the while hiding his pain behind an impenetrable wall of stony resolve. And now, that same cold logic had led him to dismiss everyone he had employed, casting them adrift.
“The thing is,” Molly went on, “I’ve been to every house from here to London and everyone says the same. A reference from the Duke of Windermere isn't a reference you want to have. Mr. Crammond and Mrs. Grypes have the same problem but they've got decades of savings, they can retire. I'm on my uppers, Miss. I've not got anywhere else to go.”
Ester hugged the young girl impulsively, then she pulled back and looked her squarely in her tear-filled eyes.
“You do, Molly. Of course, you do. You are here and here you can stay. Lord knows mother and father need all the hands they can find to pack and move our belongings from here to Cheshire. Weare to leave for Kendrick soon and will require housekeeping at Loughton for the next weeks while we are away. And if you can help prove yourself useful here, my father shall surely employ you at Kendrick.”
“Kendrick is such a big place, Molly!” Helen chimed in, her face bright with enthusiasm. “There’s always more to be done, more servants needed. I told you everything would be well, didn’t I?”
But Molly’s attention was fixed on Ester. Try as she might, Ester could not keep her reaction to the news of Julian leaving the south of England entirely from her face. Molly had seen the stricken look pass across Ester's face at the news.
“Thank you, Miss,” Molly murmured. “And if I might be so bold… I think His Grace is lost without you. But he don't seem to know it. Or else, he does but tries to pretend it can't be helped, if you see what I mean. He intends to sail for Bristol. Then to Liverpool. Couldn’t you stop him? Not for me, nor even for the others, but for him. I can’t bear the thought of him all alone in that great, empty house at Windermere, with only Mr. Harper for company.”
Ester narrowed her eyes slightly, her heart quickening at the mention of Harper. “Why not, Molly?”
