by Gloria Gay
"Lord Wilbur," said Belinda, "I wish I could believe you. But you see now that if I were to arrive in London, I would place my husband in an embarrassing situation."
"You could write and ask him if you could come. I have known Berrington all my life. He is not one to dwell in resentment. I can assure you of that. He is by nature light-hearted and of a sunny disposition and only appears stern."
"If you should decide to go to London, I am certain he would not object. In fact, if I can be of service in that respect, I could contact him for you."
"No. I will allow him to lead his life in peace there, my lord," answered Belinda firmly. "But thank you for the offer, and for listening to me. I don't believe I have ever spoken to someone as much as I have spoken to you. You are easy to talk to."
"I enjoy your company, my lady. I only hope I have been of help."
"More than you'll ever know, my lord," Belinda assured him. "And now I believe I should get back to the house. I think I have been gone far too long."
"I have some business to attend to the next few days, Lady Berrington," said Lord Wilbur as they both stood up, "But if you are disposed, Penny and I will come by on Thursday for a ride with you."
"I look forward to it, my lord," said Belinda.
Chapter 13
The following morning Belinda kept close to the house. It was too cold and windy for her to ride by herself and so she only strolled in the garden for a while.
Belinda realized that Irene was not the child of thirteen she had thought her to be and only looked young because of the way she behaved and the way she dressed. She was surprised to find that Irene was almost sixteen and excused her behavior to the fact that the girl had been left under the inadequate care of Flora, who thought only of herself.
Belinda was certain that under a more sensitive and caring person, Irene would not have turned out as she had. Flora was a hypocrite, as Belinda was finding out, and she was certain that Lord Berrington had never realized how inadequately Irene was being raised by Flora.
Irene had the manners of a savage, and the sad part was that while there was still hope for her, as she was young, if left to grow in this way she would eventually be settled into such a character that there would be no hope for her.
But Irene seemed friendlier these days, and Belinda wondered if perhaps she could ask her to come with her on her rides with Lord Wilbur and Penny. She had ran into her the day before as Irene was crossing the garden after leaving her horse in the stables and Irene had nodded toward her in a friendly way.
Deciding she would brave the cold, Belinda left the garden and headed for her usual walk in the woods..
Despite circumstances she was always glad for each new day and she particularly liked the early morning mist and the feeling of newness about everything. And here in the country this was emphasized more.
She looked around with appreciation as she entered the wood and followed a well-trodden lane. The air was sharp but there were still some birds that had not yet migrated. They greeted her with their cheerful songs as she breathed air that was fresh and fragrant of pine, maple, and oak.
She stopped now and then to gaze at wildflowers that had not yet succumbed to the cold climate, hidden among bracken and yellowing grass and walked over carpets of pine needles.
How beautiful it would look in the winter, she thought, as she imagined the branches of the trees weighed down by new snow. She would be here to see each season in the forest and was happy that at least that was hers to keep, for the house, beautiful as it was, did not feel like home, but more like a large elegant hotel where Flora reigned supreme in Lord Berrington's absence.
But here in the wood, Belinda forgot Flora's cold stare and Irene's moroseness and could at least breathe. Mrs. Hunter had informed her that Flora was spending the night in Lady Lawrence's house and would return the following day.
Belinda returned for a light lunch, as she had forgotten to have breakfast, and as soon as she had finished with the light meal she went back to the wood. It would be a lonely evening, she thought, for Bessie was away. Bessie had asked Belinda for permission to visit her mother and as her mother lived a distance from Winterhill it would take her two days.
Belinda was glad for Bessie, and happy to assure her that she would be fine without her for a couple of days, for she was the only one who had a kind word for her.
After a few hours of walking she felt pleasantly weary and prepared to return to the house, refreshed from a day of peace and serenity. As she neared the house, she saw Irene walking along the same path toward her. And as she came abreast of her Irene smiled at her.
"Hello," said the girl, as they walked back to the house side by side.
"Did you enjoy your walk, Lady Berrington?" asked Irene.
"Please call me Belinda, Irene," said Belinda smiling at her.
"Yes, I enjoyed my walk. The woods are still lively, even though it is getting so cold now."
"You like to walk there, don't you?"
"Yes, very much. I have always liked to walk, and these woods are very enjoyable. Perhaps you might like to walk there with me some time."
"Yes. We'll do that…maybe tomorrow?"
"But we should wear warmer clothes, Irene, I feel the cold through this thin pelisse. I shall tell Bessie when she gets back to dig out my warmer pelisse. I have no idea where she put it."
"I suppose," said Irene, her shoulders stooped in an ungainly way, "you could also go riding with me, since you seem to have learned how to ride?"
"Yes," Belinda answered quickly. "And maybe you could ride with Lord Wilbur and Penny and me," she added tentatively.
"I'd like that,” answered Irene, “Were you going toward the house?"
"Yes."
"Flora will be gone for the night," Irene said.
"Yes, Mrs. Hunter mentioned that."
"I wondered if perhaps I could show you some parts of the house you haven't seen," Irene said, and added, "I don't think you have even seen the picture gallery."
"No, I haven't," said Belinda, "I thought it would not make much sense if I saw it by myself, without knowing whose likeness I was looking at."
"It's a wonder Flora hasn't offered to show it to you," said Irene.
"She—she's always very busy."
"I don't think you have seen even the ballroom," Irene said as they reached the house, "it's quite beautiful."
"I would like to see it," Belinda replied, happy that Irene had changed toward her. Perhaps she had become tired of moping around and of glaring at her every time she looked at her.
Young people cannot hold grudges for long, she thought.
"Well, Belinda, I shall give you an official tour of the house," said Irene, smiling "since there is not much to do, anyway. Would you like that?"
"I would be very grateful to you," said Belinda, smiling back. Irene's face improved a great deal when she smiled.
They walked up the stairs toward the gallery, which was close to the ballroom.
"There are close to a hundred portraits," said Irene as Belinda looked around. "Let's start with the oldest ones.
"This is the first Baron D'Estel. He wasn't much to look at, was he?"
"He doesn't look very happy," Belinda agreed and turned to Lady D'Estel, who seemed a sad, brown-eyed lady with an equally sad-looking little dog at her feet.
There was nothing of Lord Berrington in either of their dour faces.
They moved along and Irene pointed out the first Earl of Berrington.
"The Third Baron D'Estel was made an Earl of Berrington in 1655," said Irene. "He looks like my brother, doesn't he?"
"Yes," said Belinda as she gazed at bright brown eyes very similar to her husband's and felt a stirring of longing.
She suppressed her sigh and gazed at the first Lady Berrington, a forceful looking dark-haired lady in an exquisite dress of pale blue satin and embroidered bodice and hem. She held a parasol that was little more than ornamental in a delicate hand almost covered wi
th an exquisite lace cuff. A peaceful verdant scene had been painted behind her.
Belinda and Irene spent almost an hour in the gallery and then as Irene was about to guide Belinda to the ballroom Mrs. Hunter caught up to them and asked them if they intended to take their supper in the dining room.
"Let's have trays sent to your sitting room, Belinda," said Irene, "and that way we won't have to go through this rigmarole of dressing for dinner when there is just ourselves. Then I can show you the rest of the house."
Not wanting to disperse the welcome change in Irene, Belinda agreed readily, and after a quick supper they resumed the tour.
Irene showed Belinda the vast ballroom and told her anecdotes of balls past that she had heard from Flora and her brother Richard.
"Let's go down to the conservatory. It's very big and I think you'll like it. Harvey tends the plants and flowers my mother used to grow."
"I would love that," Belinda said quickly, for she had not even known there was a conservatory in the house. Her routine had been her bedroom, the dining room, the breakfast room and the wooded area. The rest of the house seemed Flora's domain.
"These flowers are so incredible," said Belinda, awed at the beauty of orchids and other exotic flowers carefully tended in the indoor garden.
"You can get anything from here you want for your ball gowns," Irene said as she motioned Belinda toward a pink gardenia plant. Look, Belinda," Irene led her to a beautiful tropical palmetto plant. Isn't this plant luscious? It was brought from a tropical rain forest. Grandmamma started this garden. There used to be a still room here, but Grandmamma was not given to medicinal herbs and turned this into the conservatory, and converted a smaller room closer to the kitchen into the still room. She said this room was too far away from the kitchen to be of any use, and too grand for smelly dry herbs."
"And this leads to a hallway where there are the wine cellars." Irene motioned toward a door. "Come, Belinda."
"I am getting a bit weary," said Belinda nervously, for the thought of wine cellars only brought ugly memories to her and she was reluctant to disperse the mood of camaraderie, which Irene had miraculously made possible.
She was looking forward to many more enjoyable afternoons with Irene. How much more pleasant her life would be with Irene to keep her company.
"Oh, it's a very modern place," Irene prodded, "not part of the old structure at all. "Come, it won't take long and then you will have had a complete tour."
"Well, I don't really need to see it to complete the tour," Belinda insisted, "perhaps at another time."
"It is still very early," Irene insisted, taking Belinda by the arm and patting it comfortingly, "and there is not much else to do. We'd just be bored upstairs, since it's still so early. I shall tell you some old stories of Winterhill and then we can go back to the parlor and have our tea."
"Well, I suppose," Belinda acceded, merely because she didn't want to counter Irene's wish to show her the place. Irene's thawing toward her was going to make such a big difference in her life at Winterhill that she was already anticipating shopping outings with her in the village nearby and afternoons spent in pleasant conversation.
"It's this way," Irene said, leading Belinda by the arm.
They walked down a dark enclosed corridor for some time and for a moment a shiver ran through Belinda, as it brought a memory of another such corridor.
"Could we not do this at another time?" she asked, for she was having second thoughts about acceding to something which instinct warned her against.
"We're almost there. Don't be such damper, Belinda. We'll soon be out of here and then we'll have our tea. I want you to tell me all about your first Season in London. We'll have a coze by the fire. Would you like that?"
Looking into Irene's eyes as Irene gazed intently at her, Belinda's fears were eased. Surely she could go with this for Irene's sake, since the girl set such store on giving Belinda a complete tour of Winterhill, and then they would be at their tea. Belinda looked forward to her cozy chat with Irene, and to becoming friends with her.
Lord Berrington would be very pleased that his sister had thawed toward her.
They reached a heavy door and Irene turned a large key on it and pushed it open.
"See? It's a wonderfully eerie place, is it not?"
Irene led Belinda down stone stairs wet with humidity and when they reached the bottom Irene led Belinda into the bowels of what looked to Belinda like a large prison.
"What is this place? she asked looking around. "It looks like a dungeon."
"A dungeon!" Irene laughed a high shrill laugh and skipped around. "No, nothing like that. It was once used as a wine cellar, when the still room was the conservatory. But now it just sits here all abandoned.
"Look, let me show you some furniture that is stacked against that wall."
Irene led Belinda toward a pile of stacked furniture and pointed out some items she said she would some day haul up to her rooms.
"This harp—isn't it just incredible?" she asked, running her fingers over the cords of the massive harp, some of which were broken. It must weigh at least five hundred pounds."
"What would you do with the harp?" asked Belinda. "Do you play?"
"No, but perhaps I could take lessons. It would not be difficult to learn, since I can play the pianoforte.
"If you want, Belinda,” she added, after we finish here I'll play some songs in the pianoforte and we can pass the time singing.
"Look, come over here," she yelled out said as she placed her candle on a crate and went further into the vast chamber. "I could wager this trunk contains clothes from two hundred years ago.
"Why don't we see if there's anything we can use at masquerades. See if you can help me open it."
Belinda kneeled down to examine the heavy lock that hung from the lid.
"The lock is not locked, but it is so rusted it's stuck. We would need a rod or something to ply it loose."
"I'll see if I can find one around here," said Irene.
And as Belinda tried with her hand to loosen the hanging lock she heard running footsteps. She turned at the sound and saw that Irene was running toward the stairs. She stood frozen looking at her as the girl flew up the stairs and out the door.
With a sinking heart Belinda heard the heavy slam of the door.
Again!
For a few moments Belinda was unable to move, as rooted to her spot she realized without even trying the door that Irene had locked her in the cellar.
She now began to feel the cold of the stone floor seep through her thin kid slippers and she took a few steps by the light of the candle, which was thin and would soon burn itself out.
She sat on another crate and stared at the flame, in the same hypnotic state she had once done at another time, when her mother had locked her in a cellar.
How could she have been so stupid and trusting? How could she have been so trusting in a similar cellar when even her own mother had not been trustworthy?
She leaned her chin on her hand and tears soon slid over it, streaming incessantly for a while. But her hand soon became cold from sitting still in the cold vault. She put her hands into her thin pelisse to warm them and felt a piece of paper in her right pocket. She took it out and guessed what it was even before she unfolded it. It was a note from Irene.
Through tears, Belinda read the angry words:
You stupid, wicked girl. Now you will feel what it feels to be trapped in a musty cellar all night against your will like my brother was trapped by you and your wicked mother. You ruined my brother's life and now you will pay for it.
Belinda read it through again and then listlessly refolded it and put it back into her pocket.
And she had thought Irene wanted to be her friend! What a gullible fool she was, when it was obvious to anyone one-eyed and half-sensed that Irene harbored nothing but resentment and hatred toward her.
Belinda had never in her life felt more alone than she did now. So many people seemed to hate he
r. She had never had enemies before and the feeling was unfamiliar.
She continued to stare at the candle flame, unable to look around nor to admit to the horror that would soon start to creep into her. She must not let her fear take hold of her.
She must do something practical.
Perhaps Irene hadn't locked the door, perhaps she just wanted to trick her into thinking she had.
She couldn't believe the girl could be so cruel as to leave her locked in this horrible prison all night long. Why, she would die from the terror this implied. She would not be able to live through such a night.
By the dim light of the candle, Belinda went up the stairs and tried the door and with a desperate, sinking feeling saw that it was locked shut.
She slowly went down the slippery stairs again and sat again on the crate by the candle that was wearing out as the minutes ticked by.
She shut her eyes and prayed. Prayed that Irene only meant to punish her by keeping her locked only for a while, but that she would come down soon and unlock the door.
She must come down soon, she must!
How could she bear it when the candle gave out? The mice that even now she could hear scurrying around the piled furniture would come out and—and crawl over her if there was no candle to ward them off.
This thought filled her suddenly with such a terror that a sick wave of panic went through her whole body, chilling her even more. She yelled out until she was hoarse but only the silence answered back. She was now shivering so much from the cold that her teeth began to chatter.
When she tried to clamp her mouth shut to stop her teeth from chattering she cut her lip and now the rusty taste in her mouth added to her discomfort. A cold dread was seeping through her mind and the cold in the icy and humid chamber seeped into her bones so that her body began to shake uncontrollably.
She hugged her arms over her chest against the cold and fought terror. She felt that she would not be able to bear it when the candle went out.
* * * * *
Irene was awakened by the sound of a carriage on the gravel driveway. With a start she jumped up and glanced at the clock in the mantle. With a sinking heart she realized that she had slept all night!
