The following week brought a fragile tense calm Edmund Yves and Isadora were to travel to the market town of Ripon for three days to settle a dispute over a boundary fence with a neighboring estate It was a routine matter but Edmund welcomed the chance to put distance between his family and the oppressive atmosphere of the Manor-
Freya elected to stay behind. She had a bit headache. she said and the thought of the journey was unappealing In truth she wanted to maintain a presence at the Dower House a subtle signal that they would not be cowed or driven from their home-
The morning they left was crisp and bright. The carriage rattled down the drive Isadora waving from the window until her mother was out of sight Freya watched them go a pang of loneliness striking her despite her resolve. She busied herself with household accounts then took a long walk through the home park the dead leaves crunching under her boots. The silence of the estate felt different today watchful rather than peaceful-
As afternoon faded into evening she retired to her private sitting room a small cozy space at the back of the Dower. House filled with her books and embroidery. She lit the lamp and tried to read but the words blurred on the page. A deep unease had settled in her bones-
She did not hear the outside door open. The Dower House was never locked during the day a custom of trust that now felt like a terrible vulnerability. The first she knew of another,s presence was the creak of the floorboard in the hallway just outside her door-
She looked up expecting the housemaid with the tea tray. The figure that filled the doorway was not the maid.
Alistair
He stood there still in his riding clothes his frame blocking the light from the hall. His face was flushed not from the cold but from drink she could smell the whiskey on him from across the room-
Freya she said rising to her feet her book falling to the floor unnoticed What is it, What has happened.
Nothing has happened he said his voice a low slur. He took a step into the room closing the door softly behind him. Thats the point Nothing happens while my brother plays the gentleman and lets his daughter shame this family-
This is not your home Alistair, Freya said her voice steady though her heart hammered against her ribs. You are not welcome here. Please leave-
He ignored her his eyes roaming over the room over her with a possessive contempt. He took another step This could have been easy Freya A simple marriage A joining of the family. You could have been the mother of the next lord of Blackwood Now- now we must find another way to ensure my brothers- compliance-
A cold terror seized her. She understood his intent now not as a vague threat but as a concrete monstrous plan. She backed away until the small writing desk pressed against her legs. There is no way. Alistair Leave now before you make an error you cannot undo.
He lunged:
He was big and strong and fueled by a toxic mix of rage and entitlement. He grabbed her arm his grip like iron twisting her towards him She cried out not in fear but in a surge of pure furious resistance. She was not a fragile flower. She was a Yorkshire farmers daughter. She drove her free hand towards his face her fingers aiming for his eyes.
He roared in surprise and pain his grip loosening for a second. It was enough. She twisted away scrambling towards the fireplace where a heavy iron poker stood in the grate-
Before she could reach it the door to the sitting room flew open with such force it slammed against the wall-
Lord Reginald Blackwood stood in the doorway-
He was a silhouette of ancient wrath. His walking cane was in one hand but in the other held with a terrible steady purpose was a long barreled dueling pistol. The lamplight glinted off the polished steel. His face was ashen but his eyes burned with a fire that seemed to consume the last of his life.
ALISTAIR:
The name was not a shout but a guttural exhalation of utter disgust-
Alistair froze his hands still outstretched towards Freya. He turned to face his father the drunken arrogance draining from his face replaced by shock then a petulant defiance Father- this is not what it-
BE SILENT Reginalds voice cracked like a whip I saw I heard enough You viper You poison in my own house. You would defile your brothers wife to bend him to your will_
The pistol came up its barrel unwavering pointed at Alistairs heart Reginalds hand did not shake. This ends now This corruption ends with you-
Freya gasped, No My lord NO, She did not move towards the gun she moved towards Reginald placing herself slightly between the two men though the pistol was still aimed past her. Please you cannot-
He deserves a bullet in his black heart Reginald whispered his eyes locked on his eldest son-
I know Freya said her voice suddenly calm forceful He does But if you pull that trigger you kill more than him You kill any chance for this family You will be led away in chains Blackwood will be a house of murder Edmund and the children… they will be destroyed by the scandal It is what he wants in his madness To burn it all down if he cannot own it Do not give him that victory
Reginalds arm trembled now the immense effort of his rage warring with her logic The pistol wavered
He will do it again Freya pressed her voice dropping to a fierce whisper He will try another way But if you do this you play the last move of his game Forgive me my lord but you are an old man You cannot protect us forever from the grave But you can give us a chance Hide this Hide this terrible thing Let me bear the shame of the silence Let Edmund keep his brother let the children keep their uncle Let us have time to prepare for the war he has just declared
Forgive him Reginald choked on the word
Never Freya said her eyes blazing with unshed tears But punish him by letting him live with the knowledge that you know Let him see the disgust in your eyes every day until he dies Let that be his bullet
Slowly as if the weight of the gun had become the weight of the world Reginald lowered the pistol He sagged against the doorframe looking not like a lord of the manor but like a very tired old man
Get out Reginald said to Alistair his voice now hollow with defeat Get out of this house Never cross its threshold again Look at me Alistair Look at your father and know from this moment you are dead to me You have no father You have only the land you crave and the emptiness inside you that will never ever be filled Now get out before I find the strength to kill you after all
Alistair stared His face was a mask of conflicting emotions fury humiliation a dawning horror at the finality in his fathers eyes He opened his mouth to speak found no words and instead pushed past his father disappearing into the dark hall The front door slammed a moment later
The sound seemed to break the last of Reginalds strength The pistol clattered to the floor He stumbled Freya caught him guiding him to the armchair he collapsed into it breathing in ragged gasps
My dear girl he whispered his eyes closed I am so sorry So sorry
Freya knelt before him taking his cold hands in hers There is nothing for you to be sorry for You came You saw You chose mercy for the sake of the innocent
It was not mercy he said It was cowardice
It was wisdom she insisted Now you must promise me Promise me this stays in this room Edmund must never know
He looked at her appalled Never know what his brother tried to do
If he knows he will confront Alistair Freya said It will be a duel or a murder in the hall It will tear the brothers apart and it will destroy Yves and Isadora with the truth Let them believe their uncle is merely greedy and cruel Let them not know he is a monster It is a heavier burden for us my lord But we must carry it so their hands can be clean
Reginald looked into her face seeing the strength there the resolve that had saved his sons life and perhaps his own soul He nodded once a slow weary movement of assent
The secret was sealed A dark rotten thing buried in the heart of the house It was a shield for Edmund and his children and a prison for Freya and the old lord From that night on the silence between them would be a shared fortress and the look in Reginald Blackwoods eyes whenever he beheld his eldest son would be a tombstone for the boy he had once loved