The morning after the abomination in the sitting room dawned clear and brittle Lord Reginald Blackwood did not leave his room in the Manor He sat by his window a blanket over his knees watching the pale sun struggle over the eastern moors The scene from the night before played behind his eyes on a loop of shame and fury The pistol in his hand Freyas terrified yet resolute face Alistairs retreating back He felt a hundred years old and hollowed out
He had made a promise to Freya a promise of silence. It was the only weapon left to them now secrecy But silence was not safety. Alistair was humiliated and cornered and a cornered beast was at its most dangerous. He could not risk. Freyas presence under the same roof not anymore. He had to remove Edmunds family from the immediate line of fire to give them a chance to build their defenses-
It was a cruel necessity. It would look like caprice like the arbitrary tyranny of an old man But it was the only move he had left-
When Edmund Yves and Isadora returned from Ripon that afternoon they found an atmosphere of glacial stillness at the Dower House Freya was pale but composed her hands steady as she poured tea Lord Reginald had sent a message. He wished to see Edmund at the Manor immediately.
Edmund went with a sense of foreboding He found his father not in the library but in the grand formal drawing room a room rarely used Reginald stood before the cold fireplace leaning heavily on his cane He did not turn as Edmund entered
Father You wished to see me Is everything alright You look-
Everything is not alright Reginald interrupted his voice thin but firm He finally turned and Edmund was shocked by the transformation His father looked ravaged as if a great illness had taken him overnight I have made a decision Concerning you and your family-
Edmunds blood ran cold A decision-
You are to leave the Dower House Reginald said the words falling like stones You will take up residence in the Hunting Lodge It is to be made habitable for you immediately
The Hunting Lodge It was a stone cottage a good two miles from the Manor on the far western fringe of the estate near the edge of the moors It was isolated wind scoured used only a few weeks a year during the grouse season It was a beautiful but severe place not a family home
Edmund stared unable to comprehend But - Father why The Dower House -
Is no longer suitable Reginald said his gaze sliding away from his sons confused hurt It is too close. The children are grown. You need your own establishment Proper separation It is time -
This is Alistairs doing Edmund said anger finally cutting through his shock. He has poisoned you against me -
This is MY doing Reginald roared with a sudden surprising force that made Edmund flinch. This is my will for my estate You will comply. You will take your family and your belongings and you will go to the Lodge. You will do so without argument without question You have three days-
Three days Edmund whispered It was an eviction. A banishment Father I do not understand What have we done.
You have existed Reginald said and in those three words was a universe of anguish and unspoken truth It is the way of things Edmund Now go. Tell your wife and children Make your preparations.
The walk back to the Dower. House was the longest of Edmunds life. The world had lost its color its sense. He entered the house where Freya Yves and Izzy waited their faces anxious-
Well Yves asked-
We are to leave Edmund said the words ash in his mouth We are to go to the Hunting Lodge. In three days. It is fathers command.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then Isadora burst out Why For heavens sake why Its a shack Its miles from everything-
He gave no reason Edmund said sinking into a chair He would not look at Freya. He could not bear to see the understanding he knew would be in her eyes. Only that it is his will-
Freya did not gasp or cry. She simply walked to the window her back to them. Her shoulders were straight. She had known she realized. This was Reginalds move their first line of defense. He was putting a moat around them I see she said quietly. Then we had best start packing.
The next sixty hours were a blur of bewildered activity. Trunks were hauled down from attics books packed pictures taken from walls The household staff moved in a somber silent daze loyal to Edmunds family but powerless against the lords decree Rumors flew through the estate like wildfire. The master had gone mad The younger brother was being disinherited It was Alistairs triumph-
On the morning of the departure a light sleet began to fall turning the world a dismal grey. The carriages were loaded a small train of their life being moved to a smaller colder stage Freya Izzy and the maid took the first carriage Edmund and Yves would follow on horseback after overseeing the last of the goods-
As Freya stepped out of the Dower House the front door she had passed through a thousand times with joy or worry or simple comfort she paused. She looked up at the windows of the main Manor and there at his bedroom window she saw him Lord Reginald a ghostly pale figure behind the glass. He did not wave. He simply stood watching-
She gave the faintest nod of her head I understand I forgive you. Then she climbed into the carriage without looking back-
Isadora was crying silent angry tears as the carriage began to roll down the drive away from the only home she had ever known Her future with Chandler suddenly felt not just distant but impossibly remote separated by moors and malice-
At the precise moment the carriages wheels passed the final gatepost of the home park and turned onto the rough moorland track towards the Lodge in the Manor Lord Reginald Blackwood let out a long slow sigh It was the sound of a door closing of a duty done He placed a hand over his heart where a pain not entirely emotional had begun to bloom a tight burning ache-
He had protected them He had given them a fighting chance by making them appear cast out He had played the villain so they could remain the victims uniting any sympathy on the estate towards them It was his last great act of stewardship-
The pain sharpened stealing his breath. He stumbled back from the window collapsing into a chair. The world greyed at the edges. The image of Freya nodding her grim forgiveness was the last clear thing he saw_
Downstairs Alistair heard the thud from his fathers room. He paused a glass of brandy halfway to his lips. A slow satisfied smile spread across his face. The old fool His sentimental heart had finally given out. He had banished his favorite son and the shock had killed him. It was perfect It was poetry.
He is not in hurry. He finished his drink then ascended the stairs. He found his father slumped in the chair his eyes open and fixed on some point beyond the window beyond the moors beyond life itself-
Alistair reached out and with a cold deliberate motion closed the eyelids Goodbye Father he murmured Thank you for finally seeing things my way.
He turned and walked from the room his steps already those of a man surveying his kingdom. The Lord of Blackwood was dead Long live the Lord.