The looming ruins cast longer shadows as the afternoon wore on, and he could not help but wonder how many of the old tales were true. Although he had never, in his ramblings, found anything of significance in the place, he had always hoped to come upon some hidden treasure, some item to indicate who had lived there, and what had happened to them.
The most he had seen was the crumbled doors to the lower levels, crushed or blocked by falling stones from above, and the tantalising hints of steps which went down into what were undoubtedly cellars below. He was not foolish enough to attempt to get down there – being crushed held no appeal for him. Still, he wondered about the history of the place.
Chapter Two
It was customary for Lady Bromley to require that her daughter come down for dinner in formal dress, and the time that it took Grace to get out of her muddied riding habit and into fine muslin caused her to arrive as the first course was being laid on the table. She was immediately caught in her mother’s glare as she passed through the doorway into the morbidly silent dining room. At first, she decided to ignore the blatantly obvious, and made a small comment on the dish set before her, but her breaking the silence only helped to give her mother an opportunity to begin her usual lamentations.
“Pray do not tell me that you have only just arrived back from your endless promenades through the countryside.” Lady Bromley began emphatically. “Out all day in such hot weather, and with no regards for your complexion! I despair of you!”
“Would me vouching that I have indeed spent most of my day in the complexion-saving shade put your worries at ease, Mama?” Grace asked, while doing her best to stop herself from smiling.
Lady Bromley’s concerns were not ameliorated in the least.
“After dinner, you shall play for me at the pianoforte,” she declared, knowing that Grace’s recent disregard for her lessons might embarrass her during such a performance.
“I had hoped that the punishment for my transgressions, as aptly deserved as it may be, might yet spare you and Papa. I shall play the pianoforte if I must, but I pray that you do quit the drawing room during my performance, and spare yourselves the cruelty to your ears.”
Lord Bromley’s sincere laughter echoed through the ensuing silence, encouraging his daughter to laugh as well. The liberty with which they laughed made the grave visage of Lady Bromley even graver by comparison.
“You do such an injustice to your own daughter!” she turned to her husband with vigorous indignation. “You have raised her to be an absolute savage, despite my best efforts! I do not know what gentleman of high society could ever consider her for a wife.”
“My dear Lady,” Grace’s father began in an appeasing but tired tone, having had this conversation with his wife on numerous occasions before. “Grace’s dowry and connections put her in the position to marry whomever she sees fit, without having to bear any of the stiff airs most young gentlemen of the peerage profess. I believe that she will discover a man who finds virtue in all that you perceive as flaws in her, and will love him for that, rather than for his title, if he bears one. Although, of course, I would prefer that she found such a man amongst the higher ranks of society if possible.” He spoke softly, turning a kind glance towards Grace, who smiled in return.
“I find it is best to set out in life with the intention of ever bettering oneself, and consequently ascending into higher circles of society. If one settles with one’s current endowment as being enough –” her mother began emphatically.
“To find an avid opponent to your point of view, one must do no more than look at the top of your perceived ladder. The Regent has not lifted a finger to better himself since he was fifteen – except in girth, that is.”
Lord Bromley laughed wholeheartedly at his own words, to the shock of Lady Bromley, who never enjoyed any sort of political commentary at the dinner table, and strongly believed that such scandalous matters should be kept within the confines of the gentlemen’s clubs. She huffed in order to show her outright disdain for what had been said, but made no further comment. For a while, each of them went on with their dinner in silence.
“As you well know, there will be Balls and all manner of entertainment, throughout the Autumn, and, then, once Christmas is past, the Season will be upon us. You are eighteen, and will come out officially during that Season – but I want you to acquit yourself well during the lesser events before then – and you are, most definitely, not in any way polished, much to my despair,” Lady Bromley began again, after some thought, eyeing her daughter from the other side of the table, “and tomorrow, you will present yourself in the ballroom, for I have spoken with your dance instructor to–”
“Tomorrow?” Grace protested, putting down her fork, “But tomorrow I’ve promised Amelia –” she began, but Lady Bromley put her cutlery down as well, rather emphatically.
“Tomorrow, indeed!” she responded. “And I shall not hear another word about what you have promised that girl! She may be a Baron’s daughter, but she’s just as much of a wild thing as you are. Undoubtedly, that makes her a bad influence, when it comes to improving your social graces.”
“Will it take long? The lesson?” Grace asked.
“As long as is needed. Imagine how mortified I would be to see you tread on your partner’s feet while dancing in front of everybody! I would never be able to show myself in genteel society again!”
“A man who cannot withstand the pain of my foot pressing down on his is hardly a man.” Grace replied, immediately busying herself with eating. As obvious as it was that her wit was not appreciated in this particular company, she could not bring herself to refrain from it.
“It is just as true to say that a woman who comports herself without grace can hardly be called a lady.” Lady Bromley replied with satisfaction.
Grace considered her statement, and found that no appropriate reply came to mind. Lady Bromley, faced with her silence, assumed that the battle had been won. After dinner, she insisted that she listen to her daughter play the pianoforte in the drawing room, to assess her proficiency with the instrument. As Grace slowly butchered a piece beyond all possible comprehension, her mother sat immersed in her own thoughts. Next to her sat Miss Harold, Grace’s governess, who had the expression of a convict being tried for her crimes by an austere judge. And yet, Lady Bromley, despite her current ill-disposition, did not reprimand Miss Harold, but rather sought counsel from her, which quite startled Grace.
“Oh, my dear Miss Harold,” she began, surprising her with the sudden show of kindness, “what am I to do with Grace? As soon as I mentioned her dancing lessons, she told me that she had a prior engagement with the Gardner girl! The two are practically inseparable!”
Lord Bellchurch, Amelia and Theodore’s father, was a Baron who had a modest estate near Hesterton Park. He was a good and diligent man, the third Baron of the name, and even though the Wellfords were on the best of terms with his family, Lady Bromley had always regarded her daughter as significantly above the children of Lord Bellchurch, and had recently begun to regret Grace’s close friendship with them, as she saw it as completely unfit for a lady of her noble rank.
“An elegant solution would be to invite Miss Gardner to Hesterton Park, to stay for some period of time.” Miss Harold said softly, unsure whether her proposal might be met with revulsion or approval. “If both of them are engaged in the same activities, Lady Grace will have no reason to object to anything, nor will she be able to run off and do something else. If it would be convenient, of course,” she added, eagerly waiting for Lady Bromley’s reaction.
“Such a brilliant idea!” Lady Bromley exclaimed, as loudly as she could without attracting Grace’s attention – which effort failed, because Grace could easily hear every word that the two women said. “Oh, Miss Harold, I do declare we don’t deserve you!” she said, with joy at the prospect of finally putting Grace’s roaming to an end. “I shall make arrangements right away, but I fear it will be you who shall bear the hardest part of it
all, having two wards in your care instead of one.”
“Not at all, Lady Bromley.” Miss Harold replied, smiling.
Grace knew that Miss Harold truly enjoyed the company of both herself and Amelia – indeed much more than that of Lady Bromley, with whom she was forced to remain during Grace’s extended rides about the country, as Miss Harold had never become more than a minimally successful rider.
Lady Bromley sent the invitation to Bellchurch Court, in full expectation that Lord Bellchurch would appreciate the honour being done his daughter, and agree to allow her to come. She was not wrong in that expectation.
Nobody was more excited to hear the news of Amelia coming to stay at Hesterton Park than Grace. She was beaming with joy when Lady Bromley officially told her of her decision, over breakfast, and could not settle while she waited for her dear friend to arrive. At the first sound of the carriage in the driveway, she rushed outside to welcome Amelia, and soon embraced her as if she had come from the other side of the empire, rather than just from Bellchurch Court. They waited as Amelia’s boxes were unloaded onto the gleaming white stairs leading to the entrance, and watched as footmen rushed out to carry them inside. Seeing Grace standing in the sun, Lady Bromley immediately began shouting for Miss Harold.
“Miss Harold, please see that Grace comes inside. The sun is high and her complexion, my dear, one must think of her complexion!”
She ushered the governess out through the door, as she stood in the doorway, watching the two girls laugh and rejoice at the prospect of living together for the next few months. After Amelia’s arrival, nothing seemed unbearable to Grace anymore – pianoforte lessons, dancing, even the quiet study of French and history had now acquired novel and interesting aspects, as they were shared with a friend. Lady Bromley had since convinced herself that it had been her ingenious plan all along, and often congratulated herself on having had such a grand idea. She would do so in the company of Lord Bromley, who appeared to be unsure of what particular problem Lady Bromley was so proud of finding a solution for.
Grace was mostly happy, except for one thing – whilst her mother acknowledged that one could never neglect the health benefits of occasionally being outside in the fresh air of the countryside, she saw to it that such outings were made primarily in the close quarters of the gardens, where the governess might also join them and further their study of conversational French whenever possible.
~~~~~
One thing which her mother did approve of, was Grace’s painting and drawing. Amelia, whilst able to draw adequately, cared little for it, but was happy to sit with Grace whilst she worked on her art. On this particular day, Grace was working on a watercolour, depicting the Spectre’s Cloister – not as it had been on that sunny afternoon when she had made the sketches which formed the basis for this painting, but as she had imagined it, when Mr Gardner had described it appearance in stormy weather.
She was quite pleased with the work so far, and was working on the fine detail of the stormy skies – huge thunder clouds, in multiple shades of grey, with a vast set of lightning streaks reaching down to strike the stones of the castle.
The lightning was particularly challenging to paint, as painting it meant not painting it. It was presented by the absence of paint on those parts of the paper, so that the stark white showed through, dramatically.
“That looks so real, Grace! I don’t know how you manage to create such a strong effect. If it was my painting, the whole thing would just be vague blotches.”
“Perhaps. Or perhaps you don’t give yourself enough credit. Do you think that is enough lightning? Should I just fill the rest of the sky with clouds now?”
“I think it’s enough – if the rest of the sky is just dark clouds, then the lightning will be all the more dramatic, reaching for the castle like that.”
Grace nodded, and went back to work. As she painted, her mind went back to the things Theodore had said about the place, and a slight shiver ran through her. What if there really were ghosts there?
Her mind ran off into those thoughts, imagining what it would be like to be caught out there in a storm, to be cold and shivering as rain drenched her, and to hide amongst the stones as the terrifying strikes of lightning rained down on the ruins. In her imagination, as she cowered against a fallen archway, a man appeared through the driving rain, and swept her into warm arms, guiding her into a secret room in the ruin, where she could be safe until the storm had passed. The wind howled around them, as if ghosts really did inhabit the ruin, and she shivered in his arms. When she raised her face to his, it was Theodore who held her – held her, and gently lowered his lips to hers. It was as if he was part of the storm, wild and powerful, sweeping her away. Her Lord of the Storm…
Her brush had stopped moving, and she blinked, coming back out of the daydream to see Amelia studying her curiously. She blushed, rather startled by the direction that her imagination had taken her, then went back to work, saying nothing.
~~~~~
Theodore went into the parlour at Bellchurch Court, a book in hand. Outside, the day had turned dark, with storm clouds blowing in fast – a summer storm, which would no doubt blow away again just as fast. The sound of the storm brought to mind their moments at the Spectre’s Cloister, when he had described it to Lady Grace as a place of gothic threatening atmosphere, when seen under storm clouds. The memory made him wish for the chance to show it to her, in just those conditions. He pushed the whimsy away – he would never have the chance.
His mother sat in her favourite chair, embroidering – embellishments on the bodice of one of Amelia’s gowns, from the look of the mound of skirts cascading around her. It made him acutely aware, all over again, of how quiet the place was, with Amelia gone to Hesterton Park.
He settled into a chair. Before he could open his book, his mother spoke.
“I had never quite realised how much noise Amelia made, just moving about the house, until now. It is so quiet without her. I do hope that she is enjoying herself, and taking full advantage of this chance to share Lady Grace’s tutors in the social arts. I do miss having her at home… but this will give her so many advantages, I would have been mad to object.”
“I agree. I think that this will be the longest we’ve been apart in our lives. I don’t, entirely, know what to do with myself – I am so used to doing things with Amelia, to talking to her every day. I suppose that there is some benefit – I should probably just focus on estate matters, like Father has been wanting me to for months now.”
His mother smiled gently.
“Do that, but not to the point of doing nothing else. You can always ride over to Hesterton Park every so often, after all. I am sure that she’ll be glad to see you.”
Theodore nodded, but said nothing more, opening the book, and attempting to read.
He failed in that attempt, for his mind insisted on thinking of other things, of sunny days spent roaming the countryside, with Amelia and Lady Grace, of the childhood that was ending, irrevocably now. But most of all, of Lady Grace herself. He missed her, quite astoundingly.
He wanted to see her, to watch as the sun drew red sparks from the dark blonde of her hair, and her green eyes lit with simple enjoyment. He wanted to find things to do to make her smile, to make her happy.
He wanted, if he was entirely honest with himself, to pull her into his arms as she laughed in the sun, and kiss her until they were both dizzy.
Chapter Three
It did not take long for the novelty of the situation to wither away for both Grace and Amelia, and they gradually came to long for the time when they had been left to spend their days as they saw fit. Most of all, Amelia missed her brother’s company, for she rarely saw him, now that she was living at Hesterton Park. A little to her own surprise, Grace found herself echoing her friend’s sentiments exactly.
Their time was spent most enjoyably, of course, and Grace could never grow tired of Amelia, but her brother’s witty remarks and playful nature were sorely misse
d from the picture. Amelia would write letters to her parents and her brother almost every other day, and they would all be sent with the footman to Bellchurch Court. At times, Grace would have liked to write a few lines to Theodore as well – but it hardly seemed proper for her to do so, and what, after all, could she possibly say?
On many occasions, Grace had pleaded with her mother to postpone all of the dancing lessons and the French lessons, just for one day, that they might enjoy the sun and the fresh air while the summer was in full bloom.
But Lady Bromley could not be so easily persuaded. Now that she had both wild things in her grasp, she was relentless in her efforts to keep her grip upon them – and the beautifully trimmed hedge maze was as far as Grace and Amelia could go to hide away from her hawk sharp eyes.
“Summer is not for wasting about with walks across the countryside, my dear young ladies.” Lady Bromley would declare with emphasis. “You must learn to leave the life of freedom which you enjoyed as children behind you, and take your place in society. Autumn is for Balls, country house parties, dancing, and making new and exciting acquaintances.”
Her piercing eyes had turned towards Amelia during her discourse, and Grace observed – to her utter disappointment – that her mother had managed to catch the impressionable Amelia in her intricate web. The girl listened intently to Lady Bromley’s stories of exquisite ballrooms, elegant dancing, and fantastical dinners with numerous courses, the likes of which she had never even heard of. Soon enough, Amelia did not long to get the hems of her dress soiled by the mud in the forest, and found that the smell of horse on her garments was quite unbearable over extended periods of time. Grace watched as her mother, with all her seductive charm, captured Amelia entirely, changing her into the obedient daughter that she had always wanted, as if by doing so, somehow, the transformation might affect Grace as well. And so, even the thought of adventure was banished from Hesterton Park.
Lord of the Storm: The Common Elements Romance Project (Regency Gothic Book 1) Page 2
