He went to the door. ‘Well, miss, I’m to go back to Winston tomorrow. Not that I like leaving you here alone.’
‘You mean Mr Greyson is returning so quickly?’ I asked abruptly.
Will shook his head. ‘No, miss. I’m to take the coach alone, just in case your uncle wants to use it.’
‘Well, take care then, Will; and you can take a letter to my uncle for me. The sooner he arrives here, the better I’ll feel.’
After Will had gone, I sat looking around me listlessly, not knowing what to do. I supposed I could occupy myself unpacking my luggage. Before the resolution was clear in my mind, there was another knock on the door, and a young girl came into the room, bobbing politely to me.
‘Mr Greyson sent me to see to your things,’ she said. ‘And I’m to ask you to take some wine with him in the drawing room.’
* * *
To my surprise, Greyson had someone with him as I entered. She raised her head gracefully, her blue eyes scrutinising me with an excess of curiosity.
‘Ah, Charlotte, I want you to meet Wenna.’
Greyson came forward, playing the part of a dutiful cousin perfectly, and led me to the sofa.
‘What a charming name,’ I said, giving her back look for look. ‘I presume it is Welsh in origin?’
She inclined her head in a regal gesture without actually speaking, and at once I felt like an impertinent child.
‘Wenna runs the house for Father,’ he said quickly. ‘I don’t know what we’d do without her.’
The smile he gave her was warmer than her services merited, and for a moment her icy eyes seemed to glow.
‘Oh, you mean a sort of housekeeper?’ I remarked pointedly. ‘Did someone mention a glass of wine?’
I waited while Greyson poured the sparkling ruby drink into my glass. ‘Have you been here long, Wenna?’ I looked her over, from her well-groomed hair that was touched with grey to her feet. ‘I expect you have.’
Greyson laughed uncomfortably. ‘Don’t make her sound like part of the furniture, Charlotte. Wenna is a very important person, believe me. As I said, we couldn’t manage without her.’
Chapter Four
It was strange preparing for bed in the large luxurious room, with the sound of the incoming tide just a few floors below me.
I stood for a moment looking across the moon-silvered water, noticing for the first time that there was a tiny island in the middle of the estuary. A light bobbed unevenly, as if someone holding a lantern were stumbling in the darkness; and then suddenly it was extinguished. I shrugged. Maybe there were fishermen out laying their nets. In any case, it was no concern of mine.
I slipped into bed, feeling strange and miserable, wishing with all my heart I were home at Winston.
* * *
‘I hope you are going to come to the chapel with us Charlotte.’
Wenna stood, her head tipped to one side, looking stunning all in black.
It was my first Sunday in Wales, and I could hear the bell peal out as it had done since early morning.
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. ‘I’ll get my cloak.’
As I moved toward the stairs, Wenna held out her hand to stop me.
‘That won’t be necessary. We at the Plas worship on our own grounds.’
I had no idea what she meant, but Greyson came from the drawing room just then and held out his arms to Wenna and me. Deliberately I ignored his gesture and followed them out into the crisp cold sunshine.
Greyson did his best to include me in the conversation as we made our way through the gardens, but I made it clear I was not in the mood to be drawn, and after a few attempts, he left me alone.
The chapel was delightfully tiny, yet beautifully proportioned. The bell that had irritated me with its insistent ringing at daybreak now sounded mellow, with the sun striking in all directions from its gleaming brass.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Wenna stopped so suddenly that I almost bumped into her. ‘It used to ring to warn ships of the danger of high ground when the tide was in full flood. But of course there’s no need of that now.’
I managed a smile. ‘Why not?’ I asked, trying not to sound too curious.
Wenna shrugged. ‘The straits are avoided now. Too many ships came to grief here. This chapel was often used to lay out the drowned seamen.’
I shuddered as we went from the sunshine into the small interior of the building. Light fell through the stained glass windows like pools of blood on the oak floors, and I shook myself for being a silly imaginative fool.
The service was spoken entirely in Welsh, and though the strange musical intonations fascinated me for a time, I soon grew restless and bored.
Then suddenly it was over, and Greyson stood aside to let us lead the way outside.
‘Well, Charlotte, what did you think of it?’ Greyson took my arm in a light but firm grip, so that without making a scene I could not pull free.
‘Very beautiful. But, of course, the fine words were lost on me. I didn’t understand one word of it.’
Unasked, Wenna came to my side. ‘It is a great pity, especially when you consider that your mother was Welsh.’
I looked at her sharply, and I saw Greyson shake his head. Wenna coloured slightly, and before I could speak she moved on ahead.
‘Excuse me; I must see if everything is under control.’
She smiled formally and went swiftly across the soft grass, tall and beautiful in her black dress.
‘What does she know about my mother?’ I asked sharply, and Greyson looked down at me in surprise.
‘Nothing very significant, I should think. Didn’t Aunt Grace ever tell you about her?’
I shook my head. ‘Nothing at all. The only thing she did tell me was that both my parents were dead.’
Greyson nodded. ‘Well, there was really nothing more to be said then, was there?’
I glared at him angrily, knowing full well that he was avoiding the issue.
‘Mother used to live here, I presume?’ I stood right in front of him so that he was forced to look down at me.
‘Persistent little thing, aren’t you?’ The laughter was in his eyes again, and I felt like kicking him sharply on the shins. He took my arm and pulled me forward. ‘Don’t make a fool of yourself in front of the staff and my visitors,’ he said calmly. ‘You don’t want them to think the English are a lot of hooligans, do you?’
‘What visitors?’ I said, quickly glancing over his shoulder.
‘We always have visitors on Sunday. How else do you think we fill our little chapel?’
He smiled and walked on, safe now in the knowledge that I would follow him.
The enormous dining table gleamed redly in the afternoon sun, and the babble of voices talking in a foreign tongue offended my ears. Greyson sat well away from me, and I glared at him frequently, determined that on future occasions I would eat alone in my room rather than endure this.
As soon as Greyson gave the signal to move, I hurried up to my room, closing the door gratefully behind me.
Wearily, I went into the bedroom and leaned my head against the cool panes of the window. Quite a breeze had blown up, and I could see the water swirling angrily around the little island. It was strange, but I hadn’t noticed before that there was a grave. Yet now, unmistakably, a cross stood out against the darkening sky.
I moved away and sat on the bed, loosening my shoes and curling my toes toward the fire.
There was a tap on the door, and without waiting for my answer, Wenna entered. I was not very pleased at the intrusion, but she was smiling, and in her hands was a tray of tea.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Charlotte, but you looked a little overwrought downstairs. Are you all right?’
She sat down at the table, and I clenched my hands together in anger, resenting her patronising tone.
‘I’m quite all right,’ I said quietly. ‘But it was kind of you to bring me tea. Won’t you join me?’
It was obvious that she had every
intention of joining me, as there were two cups on the tray. She inclined her head graciously and began to pour.
Over my cup, I studied her smooth face. Everything she did, every movement suggested serenity; but there had to be some chink in her defence, and I believed I’d found it.
‘You are in love with Greyson, aren’t you?’ I said bluntly. Rich colour swept to her cheeks, and her eyes met mine with more than a glint of anger in them.
‘I don’t really see that it’s any concern of yours, Charlotte.’ Her tone was pleasant, but the warning in it was quite plain.
‘I agree,’ I said, ‘but my mother is. What do you know about her?’
She stood abruptly and looked down at me almost pityingly. Her hands as they brushed the front of her dress were steady and white against the black velvet.
‘She was a maid here at the Plas. Are you satisfied now?’
There was no triumph in her voice; just a plain statement of fact. I looked at her in astonishment, and she must have seen the disbelief written all over my face.
‘Greyson didn’t want you to know, though there is no shame in being a servant. I’m one myself.’
‘My father married a servant, then?’ I looked searchingly at her, and she shrugged.
‘There is no record of any marriage. It would have been here in the chapel.’
I took a quick drink of tea. No wonder Aunt Grace had refused to talk about my parents. She was ashamed that I was her brother’s illegitimate child.
‘Thank you for telling me,’ I said quietly.
My legs were trembling as I walked across to the window. There was nothing more to be said about the matter.
‘Why, that’s strange!’ I pointed to the island, and Wenna came to my side quickly.
‘What’s wrong?’ Her voice was breathless as she looked toward the island. ‘I can’t see anything.’
‘Well, that’s the point!’ I said excitedly. ‘There was a cross there earlier, when I first came up from the dining room.’
She was chalk-white as she studied my face. ‘That’s silly rubbish!’ she exclaimed. ‘You’ve been listening to the servants’ gossip.’
‘A fat lot of good that would do me,’ I said angrily. ‘I can’t understand a word they say.’
She rubbed her eyes with her hand and stared toward the island. ‘Then you must have imagined it. A trick of the light or something.’ She went away from the window and rang the service bell. ‘I think we’d better have more tea.’
‘What’s wrong, Wenna?’ My tone was abrupt. ‘I saw a cross out there as plainly as I see you now, and last night I saw someone with a lantern. I’m not given to an excess of imagination, I assure you.’
She shook her head. ‘It’s nothing; there must be a logical explanation.’ She looked up at me, strangely fragile in that moment. ‘They do say the island is haunted, but that’s just gossip, of course.’
I shivered. ‘I didn’t see any ghosts, I’m sure of that!’ I warmed my hands before the fire. ‘Is there any way of getting across to the island?’
She nodded absent-mindedly. ‘Oh, yes, at low tide anyone can walk out there. But no one does.’ She had no authority to tell me not to go to the island, but her eyes were pleading. ‘Leave well alone Charlotte, please.’
We stared at each other for a moment in silence, and then there was a light tap on the door. Wenna rose swiftly and with obvious relief.
‘Ah, there’s our tea.’
* * *
Winter was beginning to paint icy fingers across the lovely Welsh mountains, and still my uncle had not come down from Winston. I was extremely worried about him. Even Greyson began to talk about going up there to see how he was.
I still hadn’t found an opportunity to explore the island, but the determination was strong inside me. I stood at the quay and looked out to it. There just had to be an explanation for what I’d seen, and I would find out what it was.
The island rose from the sea like the back of a wet brown dog. Startled, I realised there was someone on it – a still figure, tall, in a long black dress, and it looked like Wenna! I raised my arm and waved, but there was no answering gesture.
The wind lifted the woman’s skirts, and I could see her hair streaming out behind her, dark and waist-length. She didn’t move, and after a while, I began to shiver.
Suddenly frightened, I hurried back up the slippery slopes of the garden and into the warmth of the house. Wenna was standing at Greyson’s side, her hair in its usual neat bun on the nape of her neck.
‘What’s wrong, Charlotte?’ Greyson came and took my shaking hands in his warm ones, drawing me toward the fire. ‘Go and get her something hot,’ he said crisply, and at once Wenna obeyed. ‘What is it?’
Greyson lifted my face to his, and suddenly the events of the last weeks seemed too much. I threw myself into his arms and sobbed like a hysterical child. Gently he smoothed back my wind-blown hair, holding me close to him.
‘You are safe with me, Charlotte,’ he whispered softly, and slowly, he tipped my face until he could kiss me. ‘You will always be safe with me.’
There was a discreet cough, and as I self-consciously disengaged myself from Greyson’s arms, Wenna handed me a cup, her face blank.
‘Thank you.’ I sat down in the nearest chair. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I’m sorry to be so silly.’
Greyson sat beside me, his hand caressing my hair.
‘What frightened you, Charlotte? You can tell me.’ There was no laughter in his eyes now; in fact, he seemed tense, much more so than the situation merited.
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Nothing, I suppose. I’m homesick. Yes, that’s all.’
He stood up. ‘All right, if you won’t tell me, then I can’t make you, but I wish you trusted me a little more.’
* * *
For several days the sun seemed to forget that it was winter and shone warmly, dispelling the snow from all but the topmost peaks of the mountains.
My good spirits seemed to return with the warmth, and I spent a great deal of time walking about the gardens, exploring the little tree house and the dovecote, which at the moment seemed absent of any birds at all.
I felt sure that now Uncle Tom would make the journey from Winston, and I wasn’t at all surprised when I heard the big front gate creak open and the sound of a horse and carriage on the path.
‘Charlotte,’ Greyson called, but I was already running up from the garden toward the front of the house. It wasn’t my uncle, but it was the next best thing.
‘Edmund!’ I shouted his name, glorying in the sight of his bright hair blowing in the breeze.
‘Charlie!’ He ran toward me and almost threw me into the air in his excitement.
Greyson came and stood like a tall dark shadow, towering over both of us.
‘Won’t you come inside?’ he said coldly.
Chapter Five
Edmund had brought me a present, a gorgeous white, fluffy kitten with turquoise eyes. We sat in the drawing room, and I couldn’t stop smiling, so delighted was I to see Edmund again.
‘How’s Uncle Tom?’ I asked, smoothing the kitten’s soft fur. It stretched tiny claws and then curled up to sleep.
‘He is improving, though he did have a slight cold some weeks ago.’ Edmund leaned forward, glancing around the room to make sure we were alone. ‘He is concerned about you. He insisted he should be here instead of Greyson. Why don’t you return with me to Winston?’
‘That is out of the question!’
Edmund and I jumped guiltily as Greyson walked into the room. He poured himself some wine and with perfect manners refilled my glass, then Edmund’s.
‘I think you are both forgetting that this is now Charlotte’s home.’ Greyson lifted his glass. ‘Winston belongs to me.’
‘No one is likely to forget that!’ I said sharply. ‘You go to great pains to remind me constantly.’
Edmund touched my arm, and when I looked at him I noticed that his colour had risen.
‘Charlotte could always become my wife,’ he said. ‘True, she wouldn’t own Winston, but my home is comfortable, and I am well able to provide for her.’
Greyson smiled a little. ‘Are you asking my permission? It really is none of my business, of course, but I think Charlotte is too immature to make a good wife for anyone right now.’
‘You are right,’ I said quickly. ‘It is none of your business.’ I glared at him angrily. ‘Is it too much to ask for a little privacy in what you keep telling me is “my home”?’
Greyson nodded. ‘I see your point, cousin. Please continue your conversation. I will not, disturb you again.’
At once Edmund took me in his arms. ‘Please say you’ll marry me, Charlotte. You know as well as I do it was always intended.’
Gently I disengaged myself from his arms. ‘I’m afraid my cousin is right about one thing.’ I smiled to soften my words. ‘I am not ready for marriage yet – to anyone.’
Edmund looked at me shrewdly. ‘Charlotte, you are not falling in love with Greyson, are you?’
‘Of course not. What an idea!’ I looked down at the little kitten. ‘You know he took Winston away from me. He has literally turned me out of there. If it weren’t for Uncle Tom, I don’t know where I’d be.’
‘If he’s so keen on having Winston for himself, why doesn’t he go back there?’ Edmund said sensibly.
I shrugged. ‘Don’t ask me. Perhaps he feels he should stay with me until Uncle gets here. I don’t know.’
‘That’s not likely,’ Edmund said slowly. ‘Greyson is up to something, I’m sure of it.’
I looked at him in surprise. ‘What do you mean, Edmund? What could he be up to?’
Edmund appeared a little flustered. ‘Oh, just a feeling I have. I can’t explain.’
‘It seems to me that Greyson has everything he wants right now.’ I stood up and walked over to the window. ‘He has Winston, and in the event of my uncle’s death he would own the Plas, too.’
‘Perhaps not.’ Edmund looked down at his hands, and I couldn’t see the expression in his eyes.
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