Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83053 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 415(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
The late Earl of Ashford had been a pious man, a devout Christian who turned his nose up at anything with pagan traditions. He hadn’t allowed his daughters to attend any of the Midsummer festivals or May Day celebrations due to their pagan roots.
But they had loved him. Rose and Lily couldn’t say enough good about their father. He was a decent and honest man, well-respected in the ton.
All was quiet but for the sniffles of Lily, Rose, and the dowager countess.
Several clergymen took their place at the altar.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” a gray-haired vicar began, “we are convened here in the sacred confines of this hallowed place to solemnly acknowledge and reflect upon the life and legacy of Crispin Jameson, the Earl of Ashford. As we stand together in the shadow of mortality, let us find solace in the light of divine providence and the enduring bonds of our shared humanity.
“We commence this service with a hymn that was dear to our beloved earl, a melody that resonates with the echoes of his faith and the depth of his devotion to God and family. Let us lift our voices in unity, to reach the heavens with our collective homage, as we prepare to remember and celebrate the distinguished life that he led among us.”
As Patricia joined in singing “Abide with Me,” she was entranced by the poignant words expressing a deep yearning for the presence of God through the trials of life and the transition of death.
One voice—that of Rose’s cousin, Sophie Newland—shone above the rest. Sophie was a gifted vocalist, and her husband, Zachary Newland, an actor, owned the Regal Theatre in Bath. It was Mr. Newland who had given Cameron entry into the world of music and theatre.
Tricia longed to be able to sing as beautifully as Sophie, but all the musical talent in her family had gone to Cameron, whose compositions were sought after all over Europe.
Once the hymn was over, the minister bowed his head. “Let us pray.”
Tricia closed her eyes, forcing herself to look away from Thomas. Once the prayer was over, the minister continued.
“The Earl was a man of profound integrity and unwavering principle, qualities that endeared him to all strata of society, from the highest peer to the humblest tenant. His stewardship was marked by a benevolent regard for those who toiled upon his lands, ensuring that prosperity was shared and hardship lessened under his watchful eye.
“Throughout his life, the earl embodied the virtues of honor, duty, and compassion. His commitment to public service was unparalleled, as he dedicated himself to the betterment of our nation both in the hallowed halls of Parliament and within the local precincts of our community. His wise counsel and judicious advocacy were pillars upon which many relied, and his absence in these areas will be keenly felt.
“In the quietude of his personal domain, the earl was a loving husband and a nurturing father whose legacy is reflected in the admirable qualities of his offspring. His guidance and love shaped the future of his lineage, instilling in them the same values and virtues that he so exemplified.
“As we commit his earthly remains to the ground, let us also elevate his memory in our hearts, pledging to continue his legacy of service, integrity, and compassion. May the life of the Earl of Ashford serve as a guiding star for us all, illuminating the path of righteousness and humanity.”
More prayers followed, and then everyone left the church and members of the earl’s family returned to the Ashford estate for the burial in the family churchyard.
After the graveside service, replete with more solemn eulogies and the melancholic strings of a quartet, the mourners retreated to the late earl’s stately home.
Tricia had been to the Ashford Estate only once before, after Rose and Cameron were wed. She’d been in awe of its beauty and grandness, but on this day, the manor was muted, its magnificence subdued by heavy drapes and an air of reverence. Servants moved like specters through the halls, their usual bright garments replaced by the dark vestments of mourning. The grand reception room was transformed into a somber display, candlelight flickering against the silver and crystal, casting gentle glows on the black attire of the attendees.
Towers of delicate sandwiches of cucumber and smoked salmon, their crusts trimmed, stood tall. A selection of fine pastries adorned with the thinnest slivers of almond and dusted with a fine snow of icing sugar that seemed, to Tricia, almost irreverent in their sweetness. Silver bowls cradled piles of scones, still warm, served with thick clotted cream and gleaming preserves. Cakes, from rich fruitcake to lighter sponge cakes, sat regally on tiered stands, alongside crystal decanters filled with sherry and port. Mingling scents of fresh baked bread and rich butter perfumed the air, along with the comforting aroma of tea—a blend especially favored by the earl—steaming in pots encased in embroidered cozies.