—Robert Southey Later than morning, Lina walked over to Malton to see how the stonemason was getting on with Edward’s monument. It was a melancholy errand, and strictly speaking it wasn’t proper for her to venture out while still in deep mourning, but it eased her mind to view the progress Mr. Monkman had made. She ran her hand over the chiseled inscription. Sacred to the memory of Edward Cuthbert Vaughan, seventh Earl of Radbourne. She’d wanted to add a more personal epitaph, especially after all Edward had done for her, but knowing the local scandalmongers, they’d be sure to twist it into something vulgar. She took the shortcut back to the dower house, trekking through the woods to reach the lane, her breath making white puffs in the frosty air. A flock of rooks winged its way across the winter sky, their echoing caws only adding to her sense of loneliness. She was halfway through the woods when a disturbance shattered the quiet.
