I'd like to offer a note to those of you who continue to enjoy this tale. I realise that it took a long time for me to post the last chapter because my last year was hectic and I had the worst writer's block I've ever had. My apologies to those of you who were waiting for it. I wanted it to be longer but I'm undecided on which of two directions to take the next part of the story.
Also, the respective ages of the main characters are somewhat important and I have yet to cover this ground. Marcel is 21, Joseph is 19, David and Francis are both 25, Elizabeth is 18 and Anna Montblanc is in her late thirties. Marcel is only a little older than his niece but is far more jaded.
I hope that clears up any questions you might have had. Please feel free to tear my story to bits if you like. Critiques help make me a better author.
Xxxxx
Marcel tapped his foot impatiently while the grooms saddled his horse. It felt like months since he'd gone for a ride and he badly needed the escape.
"Are you alright, Uncle?"
Marcel looked over at Elizabeth and shrugged his shoulders. "Apart from being cooped up in this provincial territory with your mother? Oh yes, I'm quite fine."
Elizabeth smiled at him indulgently. "You both nettle each other, you know." He arched an eyebrow at her and she giggled. "I'm old enough to know what's going on, Uncle."
Marcel snorted a bitter laugh. "I highly doubt that."
"You don't get along with mama. I know that much for certain, Unc—"
"Oh please," He held up a hand in supplication, "I can hardly bear to be called 'uncle' continuously. You're making me feel old."
She laughed with good humour. "You are mama's younger brother, are you not?"
"Very much younger, my dear. I'm a mere three years older than you, after all." He sighed and gazed at the clouds. "I sometimes think my father must have been quite desperate for an heir by the time I was born."
"Desperate enough to spoil you terribly, according to mama."
"Your horse, my lord." Marcel was thankful their conversation was being interrupted. He was reluctant to speak ill of his sister to Elizabeth, much less of his childhood. It wouldn't do at all. The young man held the reins while he mounted the chestnut mare.
"Have my valet prepare a bath when I return."
"Of course, sir."
Marcel cantered away at a medium pace. A slow smile spread across his features. He intended to test the speed of his borrowed mare. As the house was lost from view, he leaned forward into the saddle, encouraging the mare to stretch out into a slow gallop. The steady pace of his niece's mare sounded close behind him as the wide meadows of Montblanc Manor spread out before him. He leaned further into the saddle and the chestnut raced across the green.
The feeling of speed and freedom was intoxicating. He nearly missed the high female cry behind him.
"Uncle! Uncle, slow down!"
He let out a long breath as he eased the mare back down to a canter. Elizabeth rode fast to catch up to him. "Unc—!"
"My name is 'Marcel', if you please."
She placed one hand on her hip in mock vexation. "I'm supposed to be showing you the countryside, unc--- Marcel."
"Much better, now say my name slowly as if you're savouring a fine liqueur."
She laughed. "Mama would be scandalized by such a suggestion, monsieur."
"Your mama isn't here." Her eyes twinkled at him, showing her dimples. "Very well then, show me the verdant canals and the vineyards. It's surely better than being indoors."
He allowed her to take the lead and spent a pleasant if somewhat dull afternoon riding through meadows and over low sprawling hills. On the way back to the manor he was surprised to catch sight of a large cottage seemingly tucked away on the outskirts of his sister's property.
"What's that, Elizabeth? It looks too large from here to be a woodsman's home."
She followed his gaze and smiled. "It's smaller than you imagine, Marcel." Small spots of colour rose in her cheeks. "That is where Mr. Colton lives."
Marcel's gaze turned predatory. "It's a fine day, my dear. I think I should like a closer look." Without waiting for a response he rode rapidly towards David's house.
It was a white washed affair with lead paned windows and a small barn nearby. There was a vegetable garden to one side of the house bordered by a low fence. This fence extended outward and engulfed a modest paddock. A fine fat cow munched hay lazily inside it.
Though the tiny holding was far smaller than anything Marcel was accustomed to, it was grand compared to most commoners.
"Does my sister rent this to him?"
Elizabeth shrugged. "I don't know, Marcel, but I would think so."
As Marcel sat his horse nearby, a small woman walked into view and began hanging out linens to dry. The lord frowned in annoyance. "Who on earth is that?"
"That's his house maid. She lives in the village and comes up to tend his affairs during the day."
Though he should have been reassured Marcel still felt hot spikes of jealousy prickling through him. He knew well enough what use he made of his own servants and easily imagined everyone else was the same. David Colton presented himself as honourable, but then, so did all men. "He treats her well then?"
Elizabeth's blank look spoke clearly of her innocence. "Why yes, I suppose so. Why do you ask, uncle?"
He rolled his eyes at her. "Back to that now are we?" He deliberately turned his horse away from the Colton residence.
Her features softened into a fond expression. "You are my uncle, Marcel."
"I know, I know." He put up one hand in mock surrender. "Still, perhaps we should arrange something between the two of us."
"Oh?"
