My Bratty Wife
Chapter 224 - Two Hundred And Twenty Four

Chapter 224: Chapter Two Hundred And Twenty Four

The sky above the Blackwood castle was a muted, overcast grey, mirroring the somber mood of the mourners gathered in the estate’s family burial ground. A chill wind whispered through the trees, rustling the black mourning clothes of the assembled nobility. Lord Evan’s funeral was, as Ryan had intended, a relatively simple affair, free from the showy display Evan himself might have wanted in life.

A sturdy, unadorned oak coffin rested beside the newly dug grave. The priest intoned the familiar rites from the Book of Common Prayer. His words, "Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live, and is full of misery," drifted over the quiet gathering. He spoke of the resurrection and the life to come, his gaze sweeping over the bowed heads.

Ryan stood at the forefront, tall and aloof in his impeccably tailored black frock coat, black breeches, and waistcoat. His expression was grave, his hand firmly holding Suzy’s. She stood beside him, a figure of quiet dignity in a heavy black silk gown, its voluminous skirts brushing the damp grass. A wide-brimmed black hat adorned with a simple jet pin shaded her face, a delicate black lace veil obscuring her features just enough to lend an air of sorrowful mystery. Her gloved hands clasped Ryan’s tightly, drawing strength from his presence.

A little further back, Byron could be seen, also clad in somber black, his expression one of appropriate gravity. He watched the proceedings with an unreadable intensity, his gaze occasionally flicking towards Suzy.

The priest concluded the committal service. "Forasmuch as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we therefore commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life..."

With a final prayer and a blessing, the service ended. Workmen, standing respectfully aside until now, moved forward to begin the task of lowering the coffin and filling the grave.

The mourners began to disperse, their hushed conversations a low murmur against the sighing wind. Most made their way back towards the Hall, where refreshments, as custom dictated, would be served. Ryan remained for a moment, speaking quietly with the priest, while Suzy, feeling a wave of weariness and the chill of the damp air, paused near a weathered stone bench.

"Irene," she said softly to her handmaiden, who hovered nearby, "could you be a dear and fetch me a small glass of water? The air here is rather... close."

"Of course, Your Grace," Irene replied with a quick curtsy and hurried off towards the Hall.

As Irene disappeared, a figure detached itself from the remaining cluster of mourners and approached Suzy. It was Byron. He moved with a quietly, his black attire making him seem almost a part of the somber landscape.

"Good day, Duchess," Byron greeted, his voice a low, sympathetic murmur. He executed a perfectly respectful bow, taking her gloved hand and lightly brushing his lips against the back of it. "A trying occasion for us all."

Suzy, startled by his sudden appearance, managed a small curtsy. "Lord Byron. Indeed, it is."

"What a day, right?" Byron asked, a faint, sad smile touching his lips as he straightened. He gestured vaguely towards the grave. "So much... finality."

"Yes, it is," Suzy replied, her own smile hesitant and tinged with the sadness of the day. She found his presence slightly calming and his demeanor seemed genuinely compassionate. "I... I know how you and Lord Evan were often at each other’s throats," she said, her voice soft with an empathy that Byron found almost amusing in its naivety. "But even so, I know you must be hurting inside, seeing how he died so... unexpectedly."

Byron’s carefully constructed smile faltered, his expression shifting instantly to one of profound sadness. He looked down, as if overcome for a moment. "You are too kind, Duchess," he said, his voice hushed. "It is true, Evan and I had our... profound disagreements. But he was, as Ryan noted in his letter, connected to our Blackwood blood. I truly didn’t expect him to leave this world so early, and in such a manner." He sighed, a picture of reluctant grief.

Suzy, touched by his apparent sorrow, instinctively reached out and patted his arm gently. "Well," she said softly, trying to offer comfort, "you still have Ryan. You still have family."

At the mention of Ryan, and perhaps the implication of closeness, Byron’s face seemed to light up a fraction, a small, almost vulnerable smile returning. "Yes, you are right, Duchess. Ryan... he will always be here for me." He then seemed to recall something. "Oh, before I forget," he said, his tone shifting slightly, becoming more concerned. He produced a small, elegant crystal glass filled with water from... somewhere. Suzy hadn’t seen him carrying it. Perhaps a footman had handed it to him unnoticed. "I saw you looked a little pale and were fanning yourself subtly during the service. I took the liberty of fetching you a glass of water myself. Goodness knows when your handmaiden will return through this crowd."

He offered the glass to her, his eyes holding an expression of earnest concern.

Suzy, feeling a genuine wave of thirst and touched by his thoughtfulness, smiled gratefully. "Oh, Byron, that is incredibly kind of you. Thank you very much." She reached out and took the cool glass, her fingers brushing his briefly. The water looked clear and inviting.

She was just about to raise the glass to her lips, the rim cool against her glove, when Ryan’s voice called out from a short distance away.

"Darling! Cassandra, my love, I would love for you to meet someone." He paused on seeing Byron. " I’m so glad you came brother." He gave Byron a tight hug and turned to Suzy " The Archbishop has a moment before he departs."

Suzy paused, the glass halfway to her mouth. She looked towards Ryan, then back at Byron with an apologetic smile. "Oh, I am so sorry, Byron," she said, handing the glass back to him. "It seems I am summoned. We’ll catch up some other time, perhaps?

Byron took the glass, his smile unwavering, though perhaps a fraction tighter at the edges. "Of course, Duchess. It is perfectly fine. Duty calls." He bowed slightly.

"Thank you again for the water," she said, before turning towards Ryan, who was now extended his arm. He drew her hand into the crook of his arm, and they walked away together, deep in conversation with an elaborately robed clergyman who had joined them.

Byron watched them go, his smile slowly fading as their figures receded. "Cassandra had been so close. This close. It’s just a matter of time before I’m discovered." He looked down at the glass of water in his hand – the water he had subtly treated with a colorless, tasteless substance procured at great expense, a substance that would have induced a gentle, irreversible decline over weeks, mimicking a natural illness, a grief-stricken wasting away.

His grip on the delicate crystal tightened, his knuckles turning white. A muscle twitched in his jaw. The frustration, the thwarted anticipation, was a bitter pill. With a sudden, sharp intake of breath, the stem of the glass snapped in his clench, the crystal shattering, shards digging into his palm. He barely registered the pain, his eyes still fixed on Suzy’s retreating form.

" I’m sorry brother, she has to go. She knows too much already. I can’t risk it." He murmured to himself. He calmly reached into his pocket, withdrew a fine linen handkerchief, and wrapped it around his bleeding hand, staunching the flow. As he did so, a dressed servant, one he didn’t recognize as belonging to Carleton Hall’s staff but who seemed to appear from nowhere, discreetly approached him. The servant offered a barely perceptible nod and pressed a small, folded note into Byron’s uninjured hand before walking back into the dispersing crowd as silently as he had come, carrying a tray of drinks.

Byron glanced down at the note. He recognized the precise, neat fold Elias always used. He unfolded it with his good hand, his eyes scanning the brief message. A slow, cold smile spread across his face, erasing the last remnant of his frustration. It seemed not all his plans for the day were entirely in ruins. Elias, as always, was proving invaluable.