3 The Fall of Fords

  Almost two years after Margaret’s death, things were better than they used to be. The heaviness of his pain taught Joseph that healing was only possible by one thing; detaching from everything that the universe offered.

  The young women who had reached the respectable age of marriage would approach Joseph and try to persuade him into a conversation. His stable social and financial status made him the best candidate in London for wedlock. But Joseph didn’t want another heartbreak and decades of wasted energy and effort. He thought that he was old at the age of thirty-five and that he probably was impotent.

  Everyone always blamed Margaret for infertility, but Joseph knew that his father only sired two sons in his entire life. The absence of cousins and relatives only confirmed his assumption that the Ford men were reproductively feeble. So, no matter how high the promised dowries were, Joseph spared himself and the women around him the pain and the misery. He accepted that the Ford line would die with him and the title of Earl of Mainwood would pass to a distant cousin.

  Time passed, and Joseph got lost at work again. There was only a month left to Margaret’s second deathday. Joseph planned a graceful ceremony a month in advance because the only thing that gave him comfort was grieving his wife and son in any way he could.

  It was a cold morning in the city of London. Joseph was riding on his horse with his advisor on another stallion.

  “I guess it might rain, my lord,” the advisor, Mr. Lancaster, said while looking up at the sky and holding his hat with his other hand.

  Joseph looked up and breathed in. He loved the clean air with the scent of rain. “I’m not sure,” he said.

  “There are clouds everywhere.”

  “There are always clouds in London. If it is to rain, the scent must come first.”

  “The scent?” Mr. Lancaster asked and then sniffed. “What scent?”

  “Rain,” Joseph replied shortly, expecting an agreement, but Mr. Lancaster had no idea what he was talking about. “Rain has a certain scent, Thomas. Don’t tell me you don’t know.”

  “I certainly have no idea what you’re talking about, My Lord.”

  “Are you telling me you have never smelled the refreshing scent of rain?”

  “I think you might be the only person who has.”

  They argued about it while heading toward the Mainwood mansion. Suddenly thunder bolted the sky, startling them. For a split second, Joseph felt his horse tensing underneath his legs. He knew the sound had scared the poor animal and tried to calm it, but another thunder in the sky made the horse stand on two hooves, neighing loudly. Mr. Lancaster tried taking control, but it was too late. The uneasy stallion paced down a hill and knocked Joseph off. Joseph landed harshly on the ground and lost consciousness. Mr. Lancaster immediately got off his horse and ran toward Joseph. He took Joseph’s head in his hold and examined the injury on his head. There was blood on his forehead.

  Mr. Lancaster lifted Joseph and brought him inside. They put him on his bed and looked for injuries. His ribs were getting purple, and his shoulder was dislocated. Mr. Lancaster touched Joseph’s ribs, and Joseph whimpered while his eyes were still closed. It was good to know that Joseph was conscious.

  They called for the healer. He came and examined Joseph’s injuries, applying herbs and creams on his bruises and wounds to help his pain. After relocating his shoulder, the doctor wrapped his body in a long cloth and then gave the maids a few medicines to feed him every few hours.

  Joseph woke up after a day, but he kept coughing. There was an abnormal pain in his torso that he couldn’t quite understand. Despite Lancaster’s advice to rest, he returned to work with difficulty in breathing and walking.

  One morning, Joseph barely opened his eyes and realized he couldn’t lift his blanket. Not a muscle in his body cooperated with him. What had happened to him? It was only a fall. Why didn’t he heal already? The servants of the house were terrified. They didn’t want to mourn another member of the Ford house.

  When the realization occurred to Joseph that his health was reclining by the day, he calmly accepted his fate that death was inevitable. He realized that he had been anticipating it for quite some time. Perhaps that was why he had already detached from everything on earth. While lying on the bed, coughing his lungs out, Joseph discovered nothing was better than meeting his son and wife again. He wasn’t too religious, but one thing he still believed in was the afterlife.

  “A horse?” Kathrine Capell hissed through her teeth as she heard the news of Joseph’s injury. The Capell family lived in Rockfield, a deprived town not quite close to London. Although they were distant cousins of the earl of Mainwood, they had no prosperity and lived as peasants.

  Kathrine was sitting at the table with her family, which included her husband, Robert, their two sons, and one little daughter. They were having breakfast when the news was announced to them.

  Kathrine held the cup of tea tighter and shook her head. “Poor man!” she said.

  “How do you die from riding a horse?” her little daughter asked. Robert, Kathrine’s husband, said nothing and continued eating. Dying from a fall off a horse was more common than his daughter thought, and Robert knew it. But he didn’t want to elaborate.

  “My uncle died riding a horse,” Kathrine said. “The hunters shot arrows. The bloody horse knocked him off the fences, and he hit his head.” Kathrine put her cup of tea on the table and looked at her husband. “Do you realize all members of Ford line are dead?!” she said.

  Robert didn’t mind his wife’s tone. It was rare for Kathrine to act like that. “The earl of Mainwood is only ill. He’s not dead,” he reminded, grabbing his fork again, “yet,” he added to his statement.

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  “The curse is true then,” Kathrine said as she played with the cup on the table.

  “Curse?” said the eldest son, Stewart, who was twenty-four, before putting half of the boiled egg into his mouth. “Do you believe that, mother?”

  Louisa, the daughter who was only twelve, opened her mouth. “Yes, they are real,” she said with a mouth full of food and was immediately met with Kathrine’s gaze. “I’m sorry, mama,” she muttered as she looked down.

  Kathrine wanted her children to have manners and etiquette like their distant cousin. She desired to be accepted into their society one day. “Of course I do,” she said, looking at Stewart. “What else explanation do you have for this? An entire family perishing from the face of the earth like they never existed before.”

  The younger son, John, didn’t even bother looking up from his plate. “It could be the pedlar,” he said, and Stewart snorted loudly.

  “What pedlar?” Kathrine asked, looking worried. They both just shrugged and said nothing. “Is this one of your jokes?” she pushed.

  “Curse or not,” her husband said, looking at no one in particular, “He might die. The trips are extravagant, and we’re short of money. I will sell the lambs and the cow to prepare. We must make it in London in time for Margaret’s anniversary. I won’t leave Mainwood empty-handed like last year.”

  “I know, dear,” Kathrine said, playing with the fork now. “Ever since their son, Francis, passed, we have received no accommodations.”

  “Do we have to go there?” John said, looking at his parents.

  Mr. Capell stopped eating and looked back at his son. “What do you mean?”

  “Why do we go there all the time? That house has had so many dead people that now it smells like death.”

  “We do, son,” Robert said as he chewed on his food.

  “We’re not even sure if you’re cousins,” Stewart added to his brother’s statement. “Who are your shared ancestors?”

  Something changed in Robert’s expression, which scared all of them. Stewart always found a way to anger his father. Robert looked at his son with furrowed eyebrows. “What did you just say?” he said, holding the fork tighter.

  Stewart shrugged. “I’m merely pointing out that no one confirms you’re cousins. There’s no evidence.”

  Robert’s nostrils flared. Katherine opened her mouth to say something and calm him down, but it was too late. “You, ignorant small creature,” Robert said.

  “Robert, dear,” Katherine said, but before she could complete her sentence, Robert raised his fork and stabbed Stewart’s hand on the table.

  Kathrine covered Louisa’s eyes to protect her from the violent scene. She shuddered at Stewart’s hand’s sight. Stewart opened his mouth to shout, but he didn’t want to give Robert the satisfaction. So he choked on his pain and only watched his hand, stabbed with the fork and bleeding slowly. Kathrine was used to this and wasn’t scared of her husband anymore, but their daughter was. She was worried about her.

  “All I do for this family is get us out of this current status,” Mr. Capell said. “If we don’t go there, who shall pay for our expenses?” He didn’t expect anyone to answer his question. “We have to visit Joseph. If we talk some sense into him before he dies, we might get support. Never forget and never question that we are cousins.”

  Tears filled Stewart’s eyes. He removed the fork from his hand and left the house, slamming the weathering door behind himself.

  The Capells arrived at the Mainwood mansion after a couple of days. They had sold their animals for that trip, hoping to return with more fortune. However, when they realized that the earl hadn’t left his bed in two weeks, their excitement and hope shrank into a small ball.

  Robert clenched his jaw as he stared at Joseph’s sleeping body. He didn’t know Joseph was that sick. “Does he ever wake up?” he asked the valet that was present at Joseph’s bedchamber.

  The valet shook his head. “We barely feed him, sir.”

  The valet told Robert that no physician could help. There was no hope for Joseph, and everyone was already prepared to see him gone.

  ‘Who is going to help our family now?’ Robert thought to himself. The only source of income he had considered was his dying cousin on the bed before him. No one close to them was as wealthy as the Ford family. The Capells couldn’t even return to Rockfield at that point. Robert had to talk with the man who managed the earldom in Joseph’s absence and seek his help.

  The valet approached Robert and cleared his throat. Robert took the sign and stepped outside while calculating his next moves. What would become of the Capell’s when Joseph died? Surely the next earl—whoever it was—would not care for them.

  The next morning, Robert Capell was ready to meet with the head of Mainwood, Mr. Lancaster. Robert didn’t know if Mr. Lancaster would help him and his family. However, there was no other choice for him. He wasn’t going to leave empty-handed. Actually, he couldn’t, since he had spent all their money on the trip to Mainwood.

  The footman knocked on the door of Joseph's office, which was now run by Mr. Lancaster, and waited for permission. After hearing Mr. Lancaster’s permission to enter, the footman opened the door for Robert and motioned his hand so he would enter.

  “Mr. Lancaster,” Robert addressed him while entering the office.

  Mr. Lancaster stood on his feet behind his desk and nodded shortly. “Mr. Capell,” he acknowledged him with a firm low voice.

  “It’s a lovely morning to make your acquaintance.”

  Mr. Lancaster gestured for Robert to sit, and they both took a seat. “It sure is,” he said as he settled, “although we have already met each other a dozen times.”

  Robert thought for a few seconds. “Have we?” he asked, and Mr. Lancaster smiled as a yes. Robert didn’t want to seem disrespectful toward Mr. Lancaster by not recalling him. “Well, my memory’s not so cooperative with me these days. I’m getting quite old, I suppose.”

  “I wouldn’t say old, Mr. Capell. You look sharper than ever.”

  “You’re very kind. Thank you.”

  “Is there something bothering you, sir?”

  “No, not at all.” Robert gulped and tried to remember the sentences he had memorized all night. “Well, not at Mainwood.”

  “What can you mean?” Mr. Lancaster said, slowly putting his pen on the desk.

  “You might have heard of our family's situation, financially, I mean.”

  For a proud man, it was hard to state his family’s finances. But Robert wasn’t a man with pride. At least not when there was money involved. Mr. Lancaster didn’t show any reaction. He just listened.

  “It’s harder to word these matters than to experience them,” Robert lied. “My family and I were always under the blessing of my cousins. The lord and the lady of Mainwood took care of us and our finances, and for that, there goes no day that I do not pray for their souls.”

  Mr. Lancaster entwined his hands with each other. He remained still and only listened, wondering what Robert wanted to say.

  “It’s been long," Robert added, "since the countess’ last assistance. I wouldn't expect it to continue if we weren’t in such deep debt now. I came here to seek my cousin’s help, but I see that he’s almost…”

  Mr. Lancaster’s calmness made Robert even more anxious. He waited for some response—anger, denial, rejection, anything—but Mr. Lancaster’s face remained the same.

  “Mr. Capell,” Lancaster said, and Robert thanked God that there was a response.

  “Yes?” Robert said.

  “The earl is very sick, yes. But he’s not dead yet.” His tone was harsh and judgmental.

  “Oh, God forbid!” Robert said. “Of course, he’s not. And hopefully, he’ll live a long life.”

  “Then what do you expect me to do?”

  “I’m sure there’s something you can do. I really need help. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered you with my inquiries.”

  “Yes, I’m aware,” Mr. Lancaster said, not believing him. He took a deep breath to calm himself. “It’s rather”—he thought for a few seconds—“insensitive… to expect the transition this soon when the earl has not passed away yet. What would everyone think?”

  “No one has to know about it.”

  “Everyone knows about it.”

  “How could they?!”

  “It’s a title, Mr. Capell. How do you think it so small?”

  Robert squinted slightly. “The… the title?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about the title?”

  Mr. Lancaster separated his hands from one another. “You’re cousins,” he said.

  “And?” Robert said, oblivious to what Mr. Lancaster wanted to say.

  “His lordship has no other relatives.”