She shook her head again.
‘Can you speak?’
She felt a vibration in the air, as though the very effort to hold him away from her was setting up a resonance in the atmosphere. He seemed to feel it too. The music faded into the background and the chatter died away. She forgot the other dancers existed. She was aware of only the two of them, and everything else was a blur. She saw that his eyes were not brown as she had thought, but were flecked with different colours, gold and green, and his lashes were long and thick. She was aware of his scent, deep and masculine, and she shivered every time he took her hand, for there were no gloves with her costume, nor did he wear them, and the feel of his skin on hers was intoxicating. The music came to an end, but she was scarcely aware of it, and remained standing opposite him, connected to him by an invisible thread.
It was only when a dowager bumped into her that she was recalled to her surroundings, and felt as though she had awakened from a dream. The chatter returned, and the people, and she was once more in the ballroom with all the guests.
She remembered why she had entered into the masquerade, reminding herself that, once she had found out what had happened to her aunt, she would have to leave the castle, and she was conscious of a strange reluctance to discover the truth.
‘This is a wonderful ball,’ came a voice she recognised, and she found that Miss Fairdean had joined them. Miss Fairdean had placed herself between Helena and Lord Torkrow. Recalled to her senses, Helena took the opportunity to slip away. She went into the supper room, feeling disquieted, and still feeling the after effects of the dance as, in the early mornings, she remembered the lingering traces of her dreams.
She shook her head, in an effort to shake it away.
She found herself standing next to a gentleman dressed in a brightly-coloured harlequin’s costume. It was made from diamonds of red, yellow and blue cloth, and it had a matching mask, with a red diamond over his left eye and a yellow diamond over his right.
‘Good evening, Harlequin,’ said a woman dressed in a gown of white feathers.
‘Evening, Mistress Swan,’ he said. ‘Or should I say Mrs Cranfield?’
She fluttered her fan and giggled.
Then his eyes drifted to Helena. ‘And who are you, m’ beauty?’ he asked, as he turned to look at her.
Despite his juicy relish in calling her “m’beauty”, Helena sensed no harm in him and replied laughingly: ‘I am not allowed to tell.’
‘Ah! I’ve caught you out, Miss Garson,’ he said, as he took a bite of a chicken leg.
‘Not Miss Garson,’ said another gentleman close by. ‘Miss Garson’s dressed as the Queen of Sheba. I saw her earlier.’
‘Not Miss Garson?’ said the Harlequin.
‘No, sir, and please, don’t guess any further,’ said Helena.
‘All will be revealed at midnight, eh?’ he said.
‘It will,’ she agreed. ‘Until then, we must enjoy ourselves. The castle is looking splendid. When his lordship’s housekeeper disappeared, I feared his lordship would not go ahead with the ball.’
‘That’d have been a pity. I wouldn’t be here, talking to you, now, would I?’
‘Do you know what happened to her?’ asked Helena.
‘Who? Miss Garson?’ he asked, with another chicken leg half way to his mouth.
‘No. His lordship’s housekeeper.’
‘His lordship’s housekeeper?’ he said with a roar of laughter. ‘How should I know? I don’t keep a watch on his servants, m’pretty!’
‘I was hoping to employ her,’ said a woman standing next to him, who was dressed as a milkmaid. Her hat was askew and her dress was bunched up at one side. ‘If she can keep a castle clean, she can manage my manor. You cannot imagine how hard it is to find good servants. My last housekeeper left after a week, saying the moors preyed on her nerves. I said to her: “They prey on all our nerves, but we don’t give in to it. We stiffen our backbones.” But it was no good. She didn’t listen. Said she wanted to go back to Nottingham and left the following morning. No staying power, that’s what’s wrong with servants these days.’
‘Do you know where his lordship’s housekeeper went?’ asked Helena.
‘I wish I did. I can’t ask his lordship, I don’t want him to think I’m the sort of woman who goes about taking other people’s servants. But if I find out, I will offer her double her present wage to come to me.’
‘That’s the spirit!’ said Harlequin.
‘Sir Hugh Greer? Is that you?’ asked the milkmaid, peering at him.
‘Give us a kiss and I’ll tell you!’ he said.
‘It is you!’ she said. ‘I thought I recognised the voice. Such behaviour from a justice of the peace.’
‘Not a justice tonight,’ he said jovially. ‘I’m Harlequin, and Harlequin doesn’t deal with trouble, he makes it!’
He lunged good-naturedly at the milkmaid, who picked up her skirts and, with a whoop of laughter, ran off into the crowd, pursued by Sir Hugh.
Helena was about to move on when she heard a voice at her shoulder and froze as she realised Lord Torkrow had found her.
‘If I didn’t know better, I would think you were running away from me,’ he said.
She could not avoid speaking to him for ever, but she hoped that the noise of the room would disguise her voice. Even so, she deliberately pitched it lower than usual.
‘Perhaps I was,’ she said.
‘Are you afraid of me?’ he asked, his eyes looking into her face as though he could see through the mask and discover her identity.
‘No,’ she replied.
‘Then you are unusual,’ he said. ‘Everyone else here is.’
‘Miss Fairdean doesn’t seem to be afraid of you,’ she remarked.
The mask had given her courage, and she found she could say things to him that would have been unthinkable in her housekeeper’s clothes.
He raised his eyebrows, but replied: ‘You are wrong. She is. But she is also avaricious and she fancies herself as the mistress of a castle, so she hides her fear deep. If she ever found herself alone with me, she would repent her bargain. Whereas you . . .’
‘ . . . have my reputation to protect, and would never be alone with a gentleman,’ she said.
‘No?’ he asked. His eyes glittered, and she felt her own widen in response.
‘No,’ she said, though her breathing became shallow.
‘Perhaps you are wise. Temptation is a terrible thing. But you’re not eating,’ he said, abruptly changing the conversation.
He took a plate and began to put some of the choicest food on it.
‘I am not hungry,’ she said.
‘You must have something. I am your host. I insist. Try a sugared almond. They are very good.’
He picked one up and held it up to her lips. She took it into her mouth, tasting the sweet sugar and the nutty flavour, and alongside it she tasted the saltiness of his skin. She had an almost overwhelming urge to taste more, but she jerked her head away before she could give in to temptation.
‘I am looking forward to midnight,’ he said softly.
Helena thought with relief, I will not be here at midnight. When the rest of the guests unmask, I will be safely in the kitchen, dressed in my housekeeper’s clothes.
‘My lord, at last!’ came a voice at their side. ‘I have been looking for you everywhere. I am sure you remember that I promised to introduce you to my niece when last we met. Talia, make your curtsey to his lordship. She is staying with us for a while, your lordship, and we are very glad to have her with us. Such a good girl! Such pretty manners. Now, now, child, don’t blush.’
The poor young girl had gone scarlet, and was looking at Lord Torkrow with a mixture of fear and awe.
He replied politely: ‘Miss Winson. It is good of you to come. I hope you are enjoying your first costume ball.’
As the girl mumbled a reply, Helena slipped away and went into the ballroom. A young man dressed as a knight asked for he
r hand and led her to safety out on to the floor. She began to talk of the splendour of the castle and mentioned Mrs Carlisle, but her partner could shed no light on Mrs Carlisle’s disappearance. He was far more interested in trying to discover Helena’s identity. Helena parried his questions easily, but she did not learn anything of use.
She went out into the hall when the dance was over, hoping that she would learn more from his lordship’s female guests. They might have heard something from their own servants, or have made enquiries if they wanted to hire Mrs Carlisle themselves.
‘Lord Torkrow will never marry her,’ she heard a young woman saying. The young woman had a clumsy build, and was dressed unbecomingly as Joan of Arc. ‘She’s been setting her cap at his lordship for the last three years, but he’s never so much as looked at her. I cannot think why she wants to attract him. He makes me shiver. There’s something in his eyes – he’s a cold man.’
No, thought Helena, remembering the flash in his eye as he had fed her the almond. He’s far from cold.
‘He wasn’t so cold with his sister-in-law,’ said another woman who was dressed as Maid Marion.
‘Shhhh,’ said the Amazon next to her.
‘Why?’ asked Maid Marion belligerently. ‘I’m only saying what everyone knows.’
‘I don’t know it,’ said a young woman dressed as a Greek goddess.
‘Better not say anything more,’ said Nell Gwyn.
‘I want to know,’ said the goddess. ‘Was he in love with his sister-in-law? Is that what you mean? I never heard that.’
Helena recalled the expression she had seen on his face when she had seen him in the secret room, looking at his sister-in-law’s portrait.
‘Why do you think she was running out to meet him that night – the night she died - when he came home from a neighbouring ball? She couldn’t go to it with him, it would have made a scandal, but everyone knew they were in love with each other. She couldn’t wait to see him and she went to him the moment he returned to the castle. They were lovers. Everyone knows it.’
‘No!’ said the goddess.
‘Everyone knows no such thing,’ retorted Nell Gwyn. ‘It was a rumour, and nothing more. Some people have nothing better to do than to gossip about their neighbours.’
‘He fell in love with her when his brother brought her to the castle just before their wedding,’ went on Maid Marion, ignoring the interruption. ‘She came with her family. It was her father who’d arranged the match. They stayed for a week and at the end of the week she was married. But when she said “I do” to one brother, in her heart she was saying, “I do” to the other.’
‘Scandal and nonsense,’ said Nell Gwyn.
‘I heard that she was besotted with him, but that he would not look at her,’ piped up a buxom Viking. ‘She set her cap at him, but he ignored her, so she married the other brother to spite him.’
‘And I heard that he was madly in love with her, but that she was in love with her husband,’ said an Italian contessa.
‘Everyone —’ said the fairy, before stopping and looking at Helena.
All the women turned to look at her, finally realising there was an outsider amongst them.
‘Can you tell me where the ladies withdrawing room is?’ asked Helena.
‘I don’t know, I’m sure,’ said the goddess.
‘The balls used to be so well arranged when his lordship’s old housekeeper was here, but tonight I can find nothing I want. It is a pity she left in such a hurry. I wonder what became of her,’ said Helena.
‘Tempted away by higher wages,’ said the Viking promptly. ‘She went to Lady Abbinghale in London.’
‘I heard it was the Honourable Mrs Ingle,’ said Nell Gwyn, her interest caught.
‘No, it was Lady Abbinghale. She steals everyone’s servants. She stole Lord Camring’s chef. Paid the man double, and left Lord Camring with no one to cook for him when he entertained the Prince. So then what does Lord Camring do but steal his chef back again at treble his original wages. We’re slaves to our servants, and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about.’
‘The withdrawing room is at the end of the corridor, on the right,’ said a young woman who had previously said nothing, and who was dressed as Lady Macbeth.
Helena was disappointed in the answer, for now she had no excuse to remain, but she thanked Lady Macbeth and moved away. She went into the withdrawing-room in case anyone was watching her, and adjusted her hat, settling it more firmly on her head. It was very tall, and it had a tendency to slip to one side. As she secured it with a pin, she noticed that the woman next to her was dressed as Katharine of Aragon, and she remembered Mrs Willis saying that that would be her costume. More, she remembered Mrs Willis’s strange manner when she had visited her, and found herself wondering about the rector’s wife.
When Mrs Willis left the room, Helena followed her discreetly, and saw Mrs Willis going up the stairs as silently as a shadow. Helena reached the top, and caught a glimpse of Mrs Willis’s hem going along the corridor until she reached a room at the end. Mrs Willis stopped and looked round furtively, and Helena shrank back against the wall. Appearing satisfied that no one was following her, Mrs Willis slipped into the room.
Helena followed, wondering what she would find. She reached the door and turned the handle slowly, hoping it would not creak. There was a slight noise as the door started to swing open and immediately she stopped, inching it further open when there was no commotion from within. She finally opened it enough to see into the room, and what she saw shocked her. Mrs Willis was locked in a passionate embrace with a young Poseidon, a man who was clearly not her husband.
She hastily left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Mrs Willis was not all she seemed to be. If she was concealing a lover, could she possibly be concealing other things as well?
Helena’s thoughts were whirling and she felt in need of some time to think. She was passing the long gallery and slipped inside. It was far away from the bustle of the ballroom, and she welcomed its coolness. The dim light was soothing. Here there were no candles and no mirrors, only the soft moonlight coming in through the windows. It was coloured by the stained glass, making red and blue patterns on the floor.
She began to pace the length of the gallery, walking in and out of the pools of coloured light as she thought over everything she had seen and heard. She had not gone more than half way when she started, for there was a figure at the end. In the eerie light she could see no more than his silhouette, but she knew who he was at once, by a stirring of the air and a lift of something inside her. It was Lord Torkrow. She started to back away, but it was too late! He had heard her.
‘We meet again,’ he said, moving forward, his skin dappled red and then blue by the light. He looked down into her eyes. ‘I wonder, was it by accident or design?’
‘Forgive me, my lord, it was an accident,’ she said. ‘I did not know anyone was in here. I wanted to get away for a while. I did not mean to disturb you.’
‘No matter,’ he said. ‘I was ready to rejoin my guests.’
‘Then I must not prevent you,’ she said, although she felt a powerful force emanating from him, and found it hard to turn away.
‘I have changed my mind,’ he said. ‘It is time for the unmasking, and I am intrigued. Who are you?’
‘I cannot tell you yet,’ she prevaricated. ‘It is still five minutes to midnight. I will unmask in the ballroom at the appointed hour.’
Castle of Secrets Page 17
