Castle of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Nobody thought of Fronard.

  The valet and Jarrold carried the Earl to the gig. Sarah followed, her arm supporting Jacina.

  “The ladies can ride in my gig,” suggested the doctor. He looked round and then gave an exasperated cry. “Where the devil – ?”

  The doctor’s gig had gone! With it had gone Fronard.

  They now noticed the Steward, rising with a groan from the grass.

  “What happened?” asked Jarrold with a frown.

  The Steward explained. “Although it was evident that the Earl was hit with the first shot, still that scoundrel Fronard raised his pistol to fire again. I heard him muttering – ‘finish it, finish it’.

  “I wrestled with him and managed to snatch the pistol, but as I turned he hit me on the back of the head with something hard. I don’t know what. I went down, but luckily fell on the pistol – so he hasn’t taken that.”

  Jarrold and the others thanked the Steward warmly for his actions. It was clear that Fronard had intended to ensure that the Earl was dead with a second bullet.

  Now they had to fly like the wind to the castle to save the Earl.

  The Steward elected to ride the Earl’s black horse. The valet rode the grey. The doctor and the two ladies settled in the remaining gig with the Earl. Jarrold took the reins. The whip lashed through the air as the horses set off at a gallop.

  The Earl’s head lay in Jacina’s lap. With trembling fingers, she brushed the hair back from his unconscious brow.

  For this moment, he was hers.

  For the whole drive back through the damp woods, as the sky grew lighter, he was hers.

  Only at the castle was he torn from her.

  Jacina had to force herself not to resist as Jarrold, the valet and the Steward lifted the Earl from her arms. She climbed carefully down after him and then turned to help Sarah.

  Once alighted, Sarah hurried off to the kitchen entrance. She was going to order hot water and towels to be brought to the Earl’s chamber.

  The men began to climb the castle steps with their burden. The doctor hurried alongside, keeping an anxious eye on his patient.

  Suddenly above them the castle door was flung open and Felice appeared. When her eyes fell on the unconscious Earl, they widened.

  “He is not dead, Countess,” said the doctor quickly. “There is hope.”

  With a great cry Felice collapsed weeping on her husband’s body.

  Jacina watched numbly from the foot of the steps.

  “We must take him to his chamber, Countess,” urged the doctor.

  Felice allowed herself to be drawn from the Earl. She took a handkerchief from her sleeve and began dabbing the tears from her cheek. Her hand abruptly stayed as she caught sight of Jacina starting up the castle steps. She watched for a moment and then turned sharply on her heels.

  As Jacina arrived at the top of the steps, the heavy oak door was slammed firmly in her face.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  All day the Earl lay unconscious.

  The bullet had entered his head over the left brow. The locum thought it had travelled under the skin and lodged at the back of the skull. He did not consider himself experienced enough to operate, so a surgeon from Carlisle was sent for.

  While awaiting his arrival everyone in the castle was subdued. There was little chatter in the kitchens. The servants went about their duties with long faces.

  The corridor outside the Earl’s chamber was as silent as the tomb.

  As dusk fell a figure could be seen flitting through the castle like a ghost, candle in hand. It was Jacina.

  She had waited all day and could wait no longer. She was desperate to see the Earl and judge for herself what chance he had of living. Sarah had told her that a nurse had been summoned from the village to sit with the Earl. Surely the nurse would not object if Jacina crept in to see him?

  She reached the Earl’s chamber and knocked softly. She heard footsteps in the room beyond. The door opened and there before her stood – the Countess Felice! Jacina recoiled in dismay.

  “What do you want?” asked Felice coldly.

  “I c-came to see the Earl.”

  “You came to see my husband, hein?”

  “Y-your husband, yes. I j-just wanted to –”

  Felice cut her off icily. “You are not welcome here. My husband is lying eeel because of your meddling. If he dies it will be your fault. Do you understand, mademoiselle? Your fault!”

  Jacina stepped back from the doorway. She stood for a moment, her breast heaving. Then she turned and stumbled back to her room.

  The candle guttered out in her hand.

  All that night and the next morning the Earl’s chamber was guarded by the Countess. She dismissed the nurse from the village and allowed no one other than the doctor to enter.

  She seemed determined to nurse her husband herself. Everyone agreed that she was proving herself an exemplary wife. Fronard had been a bad influence. With him gone Felice could be herself again.

  Jacina in her torment did not know what to think. Was it possible that Felice really loved the Earl after all?

  She remembered Felice weeping over the Earl’s body when he was brought wounded to the castle.

  Perhaps Felice had been telling the truth, when she said Fronard had been importunate with her and that his attentions had been unwelcome.

  It had not looked that way in the folly that night, but perhaps Jacina had misread the situation. Perhaps she had been wrong all along.

  This thought threw her into a fever of remorse.

  “If he dies it will be your fault.”

  How could she blame Felice for those bitter words? They were only too true. If she had not gone for that moonlit walk – if she had not seen Fronard and Felice seemingly embrace – if she had not spoken of it to Sarah and the Earl – then the Earl would not now be hovering at death’s door.

  She sat for hours at her window, her eyes glued to the road. She was willing the Ruven coach to appear, bringing the surgeon from Carlisle.

  Her watch was finally rewarded, when she saw the Ruven coach come racing towards the castle. It drew to a halt, the horses panting and steaming. The surgeon leapt out and ran up the steps with his Gladstone bag.

  Three hours later the good news flew through the castle. The bullet had been successfully removed. The Earl had regained consciousness and was out of danger. There was no permanent damage.

  Jacina felt faint with relief. She pressed her hands together and gave a prayer of thanks.

  The surgeon left before supper. He declared himself satisfied with the Earl’s condition. A week of rest and he would be able to resume normal life.

  Jacina was at last able to relax. She fell into a deep sleep and was only wakened by Nancy bringing her some supper on a tray. Nancy was about to leave, when she suddenly thrust a hand into her apron pocket.

  “I nearly forgot, miss. This is for you.” She handed Jacina a note, bobbed a curtsy and left.

  “Dear Jacina,” the note read, “the doctor ordered the Countess to take some rest so I am sitting with the Earl tonight. He has asked for you. Come after ten. Sarah.”

  Jacina coloured as she stared at the note.

  He has asked for you.

  What did this mean? Was he going to reprimand her for all the trouble she had set in motion? If so, she did not care. Even to hear his voice, stern and cold, was better than not hearing it at all.

  She waited in a fever of excitement until ten o’clock struck. This was the hour when the household usually retired.

  She lit a candle and, shielding it with one hand, opened the door. The corridor was empty. Indeed the whole castle seemed quiet as the grave. She saw no one on her journey except a maid at the end of a corridor, carrying a jug of hot water towards the Countess’s chamber.

  The door to the Earl’s chamber was ajar. Jacina gave a soft knock and pushed it open.

  She had never been in this room before and for a moment its opulence took her breath away.
Scarlet brocade curtains were drawn over the windows. The walls were hung with rich tapestries. Chairs were covered with blue damask.

  The room was full of shadows. Candles flickered in silver candlesticks and a fire burned in the grate.

  Sarah sat dozing in a wing chair.

  Jacina hesitated and then tiptoed to the side of the large four poster bed.

  The Earl lay in almost complete shadow under the canopy. His open eyes were like dark pools. A white bandage tinged with red bound his brow.

  “Jacina?” he murmured as she gazed sorrowfully at him.

  “My – my Lord,” she started. “How did you – know?”

  The Earl smiled. “You think I do not recognise the tread of my little helper?”

  Jacina had not expected such a gentle tone. A tear spilled from her eye and trickled down her cheek. She wiped the tear away.

  “My – my Lord. I am very sorry to have been the cause of so – so much discord. I thought I was – was acting for the best –”

  The Earl raised his hand.

  “Hush, Jacina, hush. It is all forgotten. I believe Fronard to be the villain of the peace, not you. He had an unhealthy hold over my wife. You acted in all sincerity and that is why I asked you to come to me. I want to reassure you. Nobody knows of your role in this affair – except of course Sarah. Nobody blames you.”

  “Th-thank you, my Lord.” Her voice was choked and she had to wait a moment before she could speak again.

  “Is there – any news of Fronard, my Lord?”

  “None,” replied the Earl grimly. “The gig he took was found abandoned two miles further along the road, but he himself has disappeared into thin air.”

  Jacina digested this news. Wherever Fronard was, she hoped with all her heart he would never return to Castle Ruven.

  “I am so glad that you are better, my Lord,” she said.

  “I am indeed better,” said the Earl. “In fact, I shall soon be well enough to travel.”

  “T-travel, my Lord?”

  “My wife has suggested that she and I spend some time in Switzerland. She is convinced the mountain air would aid my recovery. She will travel ahead to find a chateau for us to rent. I will follow on later.”

  “Oh,” whispered Jacina faintly.

  That Felice had won back the Earl's trust, she accepted. That the Countess planned to take the Earl away from England was, however, an unexpected blow.

  Switzerland seemed like the far side of the moon to Jacina.

  “Will you b-be away a long time?” she asked.

  “Why, Jacina,” the Earl teased, “it sounds as if you will miss me!”

  Jacina blushed. “But I – I will, my Lord.”

  The Earl was silent for a moment.

  “Who knows what will transpire,” he murmured at last. He turned his head away and Jacina realised it was in an attempt to hide a grimace of pain.

  Without thinking, she placed her hand consolingly over his where it lay on the counterpane.

  The Earl started at her touch. Then, slowly, his fingers closed over hers. He turned back to her, his features relaxing. She tried to draw her hand away, but he held it fast. Her heart began to pound as he raised her hand to his lips.

  Jacina felt she would faint with the sensation that swept through her body. If only her hand could remain in his forever! His grasp was so strong! She felt herself drawn closer and closer.

  “Forgive this display of weakness before a trusted friend,” mumbled the Earl.

  A trusted friend! That was all she was to the Earl, all she would ever be. Jacina closed her eyes. She reproached herself for imagining even for one second that she could be anything more.

  As Sarah stirred in her chair, the Earl released Jacina’s hand.

  “You must leave now,” he said.

  “Y-yes, my Lord.”

  As she opened the door she paused to glance back at the bed.

  The Earl lay hidden from her in its shadowy depths.

  *

  Jacina was cheered a week later to receive a letter from her father.

  Doctor Carlton wrote that he was coming to fetch her home. His friend the professor had recovered and the cholera epidemic was over. He was no longer required in Edinburgh. He would be arriving on Sunday.

  Jacina told Nancy that she was finally going home and Nancy said sadly that everyone in the castle would miss her.

  Jacina spent the afternoon sorting out her effects. When she came down to supper that evening, she found the castle in an uproar.

  It seemed that the Countess had decided she would set out for Switzerland the very next day.

  Maids were packing for the journey. Laundry maids were busy getting under-garments washed and dried. Footmen had been sent to retrieve trunks from the attic.

  Jacina heard all about the preparations from Nancy.

  “She’s taking everything with her,” said Nancy. “Cloaks. Gowns. Muffs and fox furs. Satin slippers. All her jewellery. Rubies and emeralds and pearls. Not to mention them Ruven diamonds. You’d think she weren’t coming back for years.”

  Jacina wondered sadly if that was indeed Felice’s plan.

  The next morning the Great Hall was full of trunks and hatboxes. Footmen hoisted luggage onto the coach that was to carry the Countess to the railway station at Carlisle. She would reach Dover by midnight and sail for France at daybreak.

  Jacina stood on the staircase watching the hustle and bustle below.

  A maid hurried down the stairs with a travelling bag. The Countess followed, wearing a red fur lined cloak. She paused on the step above Jacina and stood there, drawing on her red gloves.

  “So you go tomorrow also,” she muttered. “Tsk! How lonely my poor husband will be!” With that she swept on down the stairs.

  Jacina stared after her in surprise.

  The Earl appeared on the arm of his valet. He had come to say goodbye to his wife. The bandage was still around his brow and low over his eyes. He looked pale.

  The Countess was tall but even she had to stand on tiptoe to kiss her husband goodbye. She put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his.

  Jacina found herself looking away.

  “A bientôt!” said Felice. She gave a little wave and walked out to the waiting coach.

  That night a gale arose. The mournful sound echoed down the chimneys. Trees tossed their heads wildly. Jacina thought about sailing across the channel in weather like this. It would not be pleasant.

  *

  All the next day she waited for her father, but he did not come. At six o’clock there was a loud banging at the main door. It was a messenger for Jacina. He had ridden all the way from Melrose.

  An elm had been uprooted in the gale and had fallen on the inn where her father was lodging for the night on his way home. As Jacina paled, the messenger hastened to add that her father was unharmed, but there were many injured and the doctor felt obliged to remain and help. He thought he would be detained a few days.

  Once she was reassured that her father was safe, Jacina felt proud that he should elect to stay behind and help others.

  That afternoon she decided to go and return a book to the library. She had already packed all her own books in preparation for going home.

  When she entered the library she found to her surprise that the curtains were drawn. Only the glow of the fire alleviated the gloom. She started to open one of the curtains when a voice from behind startled her.

  “Leave them closed, please.”

  The Earl sat deep in the shadows in a high back chair. He had heard the swish of the curtain on its rail.

  Jacina closed the curtain immediately.

  “I – I am sorry, my Lord. I came in to return a b-book. I did not know you were here. I will leave this instant.”

  “No, no! No, Jacina, I am growing weary of my own company. Stay.”

  Jacina moved to the chair opposite the Earl and sat down.

  “Why do you want the curtains drawn, my Lord, when you –”r />
  “When I cannot see?” finished the Earl. He frowned. “My mood is such that I prefer at the moment to think of the library in darkness. There! Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

  “I – I think so, my Lord.”

  “Since you are here, we cannot have you idle. Why not read to me? You will find some Wordsworth on a shelf over there.”

  Jacina was delighted to obey the Earl. She took down the leather bound book and began to read.

  Two verses into the book and there was a knock at the door.

  “The deuce!” swore the Earl softly.

  Jarrold entered. “A letter, my Lord,” he announced.

  “Where is it from, Jarrold?” asked the Earl.

  “It has a Swiss postmark, my Lord.”

  The Earl sat up.

  “Switzerland! I had not expected her to write so soon. I must know what is in it. Jacina, please read it to me quickly.”

  Jarrold delivered the letter into Jacina’s trembling hands. He bowed and left. The Earl drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair.

  Jacina’s pulse raced. She did not want this painful task. Why could the Earl not ask his secretary or even his valet to read the letter to him? Did he not realise what torture he was inflicting on her with this command?

  The protest died on her lips as she looked at the Earl and saw his intense anticipation. Of course he did not know what he was asking of her. He had no idea of what she felt for him.

  Jacina opened the letter. The words seemed to burn on her tongue as she spoke.

  “My dear husband, I have arrived at the Hotel Cronos in St Moritz. Please join me here. I have found a chateau to rent. Tomorrow I will go and start preparing it for us. It is beautifully situated on a lake. There we will be able to put right a marriage that began so badly. It will be a true honeymoon. No other woman in the w-world can love you as I – do. I long for you.”

  Jacina’s flesh was on fire as she read out these last words. They could have come from her own heart, her own lips. Her voice faltered and she could not go on.

  “I – I’m sorry.” she whispered. “I – need some – water.”

  She almost knocked over the decanter on the table beside her. She poured herself a glass and lifted it with trembling hands. She drank in great gulps.