Chapter 224 - 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.