"'Course not,” Creighton replied, struggling erect. “I wouldn't be frightening the little one."
I found myself smiling at her. In spite of her superstitious stories, I liked Sarah's nurse. “Listen, Creighton, has Sarah no other dresses? That black—the year is over."
Creighton's lined face creased into a smile. “I was waiting, Your Grace, but no one told me to change them. Her old ones—they're too small now."
I nodded. “We'll get some material and make her some new ones. Something bright and cheerful. And Creighton—"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"I do not want Sarah confined to the nursery any longer. She is growing up now and will need to learn manners."
"Yes, Your Grace. But the dowager—"
"I am the duchess now,” I said. “The duke expects me to care for his child."
The old nurse nodded. “And about time it is, too. The little one's been sad neglected."
I did not want to criticize my husband. ‘'Well, we shall remedy that. And now, I shall leave you to your rest. Tell Sarah I was here. I shall see her later."
"Yes, Your Grace."
I left the nurse to her tea and stepped out into the corridor. I paused for a moment to get my bearings. Richard would be gone for some time. I turned left, away from the great stairs. I had a sudden urge to see the North Tower.
Chapter Six
I followed the outer wall around. The North Tower was come to by a spiral staircase. It was not hard to find. The arch at the bottom of the stairs had no door to bar it.
No wonder Caroline had been successful with her ghost stories, I thought as I carefully mounted the twisting stair. The castle stones were so thick that only a little light came through the slits in the walls. Nowhere in this place had I seen a cheerful, sun-filled room. It seemed I would have to get used to living in gloom.
The door at the top of the stairs opened to my touch, and I smiled. No wonder Caroline had liked the place. It was small and therefore more easily lighted. I wished I had thought to bring some candles along.
I went to one of the apertures that served as windows. Glass had been set into it, but I could see that the castle walls must be six or eight feet thick. The windows here had not been enlarged as they had in my room. Sunlight would only reach the room if the sun was in a direct line with an opening.
I looked around. A fireplace built into the ocean wall had a pleasing herring-bone design. A small rosewood writing desk and matching chair sat near one of the window openings. An armoire stood against one wall, awkwardly because the wall was rounded and the cupboard was not. And against another wall, out of view of the door, was a cot covered by a royal blue coverlet.
I was sure of it then. Caroline had used this room as a rendezvous. Bringing her to the country had not stopped her. Removed from the London dandies, lacking the adulation that had always been her food and drink, she had simply turned to some servant.
I frowned. Perhaps more than one servant. After all, Caroline had never been particularly nice about such matters.
I sank down on the cot to think. There was still no point in telling my husband what I was certain was true. The living Caroline had given him enough pain. Let the dead one rest in peace.
Papa had always said that my imagination was far too healthy. Now I could see Caroline, beautifully gowned as always, opening the door to her lover. I knew she would be there first. It was always her nature to play the queen bee.
She would offer him her lips to be kissed and on this cot—My overheated cheeks turned scarlet.
I knew Caroline had been with many men. Why had she wanted so many? Had she suffered from some sickness that drove her to such strange behavior?
My own body was filled with a fierce longing, but it was all for Richard. It was Richard's embraces I wanted. Richard's kisses—
I jumped up, my lips burning at the memory of that fiery kiss from Richard's twin. But, I assured myself, it had only affected me so because I thought the man was my husband.
I moved restlessly around the room, Caroline's room. For a moment I could almost smell the scent she habitually wore—the cloying sweet scent that she had struck me for seeking among her bottles.
Less light was coming through the apertures, but I was not ready to leave. It was almost as though Caroline wanted to tell me something. I could feel her presence so strongly! It was as though she were standing there in the room with me.
I laughed at such farfetched childish musings. Caroline had never told me anything, except to stay out of her things. I sat down and opened the desk. Since the cot still held the coverlet, perhaps the desk had some candles in it.
The drawer held writing paper, quills, and ink, but no candles. I told myself that when I came here again—as I knew somehow I would—I would bring a candelabra.
The desk's drawers offered nothing else, and I rose and went to the armoire. It was very old, and I paused to admire its intricate carving, running my fingers over the figures done with such infinite care. Without its distressing inhabitants, Greyden Castle might be made quite livable.
But I knew that Richard would never shirk his responsibility to his dependents. He was the head of the family, and caring for them—however difficult he might find it—was his task in life.
Certainly they could not fend for themselves. The dowager might be given a small annuity and be set up elsewhere, but Richard was not the kind to turn his mother out. Rosamund could not function properly even here, in the real world she would never be able to survive. And Penrose—I could not be sure if the boy was genuinely evil or just tainted by this strange household.
Of one thing I was quite certain, though. However peculiar Richard's family might be, I meant for Sarah, and for my own babies, to grow up as normally as possible.
Normal. The word rang in my ears. The only normal person in this entire household was Richard's brother Roland. And Richard hated him.
Certainly I could understand filial dislike. Had I not suffered much with Caroline? But I would have thought twins shared something better, something very special. If that were ever true here, something had gone very wrong. For all Roland's friendliness, Richard treated him most rudely.
My fingers went to the latch of the armoire—and hesitated there. I could swear I smelled it again—Caroline's sweetest scent. The room was growing darker. I almost withdrew my fingers, almost left the room without opening that cupboard door. But Papa had always said I had more courage than was sensible for a woman, and so, even then, with the premonition of evil heavy upon me, I did not back away.
I jerked open the door as though I expected some demon to leap forth at me, and immediately I fell to laughing. So much for my premonitions of evil.
Caroline's dressing gown hung in the armoire. I recognized it from the old days, and from it came the sweetness of her scent.
The armoire held no other clothes, but down in one corner rested a small chest. I knelt to lift it out. Inside nestled a bottle of her scent, almost full, a mirror, and a hairbrush. Now my suspicions were absolutely confirmed.
Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck began to rise. Someone was watching me. Was Caroline angry that I had invaded her private domain? Still on my knees, I turned swiftly, almost expecting to see the wraith of my sister glaring at me.
But it was Roland who stood in the doorway. Relief washed over me at his friendly smile.
"I have been exploring,” I said.
"Are you truly not afraid of ghosts?"
I felt his question showed genuine concern for me. How nice it was to feel comfortable, to converse with a normal human being. To have someone smile instead of glower at me.
"Truly I am not,” I said, with perhaps not total honesty. “My papa is a very practical man, and he raised me to be practical, too."
"Yet Caroline—"
"Papa did not have the raising of her. She was Mama's favorite.” I hoped the old childhood pain had not made itself known in my voice. I had outgrown that long ago, and I
had been blessed with Papa's love.
"So, what have you discovered?” he asked, coming farther into the room.
"Nothing much.” I returned the chest to its corner and got to my feet. “I think Caroline used this as a writing room."
"Until she saw the ghosts."
I shut the armoire door. “Of course. Till then.” I was not going to discuss my sister's frailties with this man who was to all intents a stranger. Still, I was curious to know his opinion of her. “Did you live here when Caroline did?” I asked, making my voice casual.
He shrugged. “Yes. But she was not an easy person to know. To admire, perhaps, but not to know.” He sighed. “She caused poor Richard a great deal of heartache. Her escapades—"
"Oh, no! Were you in London, too?” The words escaped me before I thought.
"Yes. But I was speaking of her behavior here. It was common knowledge—over the whole countryside, I'm afraid—but the talk has died down now."
I could not help myself. I had to ask. “The talk?"
"Yes. You know, because he refused to destroy Mercury, the stallion that killed her. Some said—” He paused and frowned. “It was all foolishness, of course. Richard loved her madly. He would never have done anything to hurt her."
My heart rose up in my throat. If what Roland said was true—and why should he tell me an untruth?—the neighbors had suspected Richard, my Richard, of murdering his wife!
I strove to control my expression. Richard could not have done such a horrible thing. “That can't possibly be true,” I said. “Richard would never—"
"Of course not,” Roland said sincerely. “But then, we know him better than most. We know what trials he's had to bear."
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him what was the cause of his brother's dislike of him, but it seemed too personal a question, and so I did not.
"Yes,” I said instead. “We know he loved Caroline. And besides, Richard would not—could not—"
"Of course not.” Roland's smile was so friendly, so comforting. What a good brother he was! His behavior made Richard's churlishness seem doubly unmerited.
Suddenly I decided to take the risk. “Roland?"
"Yes, Vanessa?"
"I—have you any idea why Richard is so—so rude to you?” Having asked, I colored at my temerity. “I—I'm sorry, I had no right to ask such a question. Forget that I mentioned it."
"No, my dear. You have every right to ask. Coming here must have been quite a shock to you.” He indicated the doorway. “But let us go back to the main part of the castle. No doubt by now there's a nice cheery fire in the library."
"Yes, of course.” The tower room was growing darker, and I suddenly wanted to get away from the memory of my sister. I loved my husband and I did not intend to let her memory ruin my marriage, but even as I thought this the smell of her scent seemed to grow stronger. “Yes,” I repeated. “Let us go."
Like the gentleman he was, Roland preceded me down the twisted stairs. They were even darker than when I had ascended them. “You must be careful here,” Roland said. “A fall could be very dangerous."
I nodded. Still another danger. This place was fraught with possibilities for disaster.
Soon we were in the library. Roland was right—it was more comfortable. A cheery fire blazed in the hearth, and Gerson came bearing a silver tea tray.
The tea was most welcome. I sipped at its comforting warmth. “Now,” I said to Roland, “you were going to tell me...."
He nodded. “Yes. I'm afraid it's not a happy story. But then, you expected that. It happened when we were boys."
I leaned forward, my heart in my throat. At last I would get some answers to the questions that plagued me.
"Vanessa!” Richard's voice, echoing through the great hall, so startled me that tea shot out of my cup and onto the carpet. With shaking hands I set down my half-empty cup.
"I'm coming,” I called. With an apologetic smile to Roland, I hurried out.
Richard was just removing his gloves. “There you are,” he said.
I went to him and raised my face for his kiss. It was ridiculous of me to feel guilty. After all, Roland lived here, too. Certainly there was nothing wrong with having a cup of tea with my husband's brother. Nevertheless, I was quite aware that Richard would not like it, and for that reason I did not want him to know about it.
"How have you spent your afternoon?” Richard asked.
"I visited the nursery, but Sarah was napping."
His face took on that closed look, and I knew he wished to avoid the subject. Still I chattered on. Sarah was his child. I meant for him to acknowledge her. “I talked to Creighton. The child needs clothes. The mourning year is over."
He nodded. “Do as you please,” he said. “I will not object."
"But Richard—” A father must have some interest in his child's welfare. How could I say this? “Richard—” I began again.
Then I saw his expression. Just so might I have looked had Caroline's ghost really appeared to me in the North Tower. But it was only Sarah. She ran to my side and slipped her little hand into mine. “Nessie?"
I thrilled to think she had come to me of her own accord. “Yes, dear?"
"I want to go see the horses. Will you take me?"
I looked down into the eager little face. “I cannot take you myself, dear. But I'll ask your father."
Her face fell, as if she already expected his refusal. But I would not accept that. “Richard, please. I should very much like to see the stable. I shall enjoy a good ride now and then."
I tucked my free hand through his arm, all the while talking.
He looked most unhappy and about to refuse, but I smiled again. “Please?"
He sighed. “Very well, Vanessa. If you wish. But you must not go riding without me."
I nodded happily. “I would not dream of doing so, my dear."
We did not speak more as we made our way out the front door and down the path to the stable. It sat on the far side of the castle, the opposite side from where the break in the wall looked down on the cold wet rocks.
The stable seemed new, strong and snug, as it would have to be to withstand the fierce winds from the sea. I smiled as the comforting smell of horses surrounded me. As a child, whenever Mama scolded me for not living up to her expectations, I had escaped to the stable and my friends, the horses. They did not yell or scream. They always understood.
I looked down at the child. “You must hold tight to my hand,” I cautioned.
"Yes, Nessie,” she said. “Oh, look. Such a pretty horse!"
I felt Richard's arm stiffen, and I knew. The horse was beautiful—a smoky blue-gray with a lovely head and deep intelligent eyes. I simply could not see this horse as a killer. “This is your stallion?” I asked.
"Yes, Mercury. I wrote your father about what happened. It was strange."
"Yes, we thought so at the time. Caroline was such a good horsewoman."
"Yes.” Richard looked around. “Toby!"
A stableboy popped his tousled head over a stall. “Yes, Yer Grace?"
"Take the child to the other end. Show her the new filly."
The boy came round the stall and extended a grimy hand. “Here you go, young miss."
I watched the boy lead Sarah away. Then I turned to my husband. “Is the horse vicious?"
He frowned. “No. He had never harmed anyone before. I raised him from a colt, and he had always been gentle."
We moved toward the stall, and the horse whuffled a greeting. Richard rubbed the soft nose. “Hello, boy. Be patient. We'll ride tomorrow."
"Oh, good,” I cried. “I should much enjoy a ride."
"I didn't mean—"
"Oh, please, Richard. You must take me along."
The stallion whuffled again and stretched his nose toward me. Without thinking I reached out to stroke his neck.
Unexpectedly, Richard smiled. “I should have known you'd understand."
"You mean because you didn't h
ave the horse destroyed?"
He nodded, his face becoming grim again. “Yes. You'll hear all about it sooner or later. The whole countryside was up in arms. But, Vanessa—I could not do it."
I pressed his arm. “Of course you could not. He's a beautiful animal, Richard. And—” I hesitated. I knew this was a painful subject for him, but it was something we needed to talk about. “Papa told me she was found—found—with a riding crop in her hand."
"Yes,” he said. “And the horse had welts. On his flank and on his withers.” He shook his head. “I cannot believe she would beat a horse like that. It made no sense."
A chill crept over me. “I know. Even Caroline—” I stopped. I did not wish to malign the dead. “Caroline loved horses. Why should she abuse him?"
"I don't know.” His frown deepened. “Unless she wanted to get back at me.” He sighed. “She was capable of that."
The horse shoved his nose into my hand. “You were right not to have him put down,” I said. “Why, look! He wouldn't hurt anyone."
Richard pulled me into his arms. “Oh, Nessie, Nessie, I'm so glad you said yes."
He pressed his lips to mine, and I responded happily. It was good to hear my husband speak kind words to me.
But my happiness faded just a little. He had yet to say the words I longed most to hear. Except for that morning, when he had announced to the dowager that he had married me because he loved me, he had yet to say, “I love you.” But he would, I assured myself. Tonight he would come to me.
Chapter Seven
The evening did not begin auspiciously. I dressed for dinner in my gown of apple green with the darker ribbons. It was the dress I had been wearing the day Richard proposed to me, and I was very fond of it. Besides, I had decided to behave in as normal a fashion as possible.
So I chose my brightest cashmere—it was impossible to go about the chill castle without a shawl—and put a smile on my face.
Acting on my decision to be pleasant to everyone, I greeted each member of the family cheerfully. In return I received only sullen looks. Whatever was wrong with these people? None of them knew how to behave with even a modicum of decency.
The Lost Duchess of Greyden Castle Page 6
