Diamond Dreams

by Sandra Heath

  Ellie felt as if Castle Griffin were watching them from above the trees on the mountain opposite. The sun seemed to catch on the arched windows of the towers, making them seem like prying eyes, intent upon seeing all there was to see at Nantgarth House. Fleur was conscious of the castle too, for Ellie noticed her green eyes flicker toward it, then saw how her lips pursed slightly and how her expression became one of ... anticipation? Yes, that seemed to be it.

  One of the men from the works was looking after Fleur’s mount, a superb white mare that was clearly from Lord Griffin’s stud. As Fleur went through the gate, she took the reins and waved the man away. He lingered, hoping for a coin for his trouble, but she ignored him, and after a moment he walked off, his expression dark.

  Ellie happened to be looking at him when suddenly his face changed into a broad grin. He was looking toward the evergreen-shaded alley that led down to the works and canal. She followed his gaze to see Gwilym lurking by one of the buildings. Lurking was the only word to use, for the housekeeper’s son was clearly trying to keep out of Fleur’s sight.

  Ellie’s attention was torn away when Fleur suddenly spoke coldly to her. “Stay away from Castle Griffin, Miss Rutherford.”

  Ellie was too startled to respond.

  “Stay well away, for believe me, I will make your life impossible if you dare to defy me in this.”

  Chapter Ten

  Ellie struggled to recover from the almost hissed warning. Guilt tied her tongue, it being impossible not to conclude that her Athan and Lord Griffin were the same man after all, and that somehow Fleur was aware of the meetings in London.

  But how? It was impossible. The only other person who knew was Athan himself, and he wasn’t yet aware that Ellie Rutherford was here in Nantgarth House. Was he? Could he have discovered where she was, and confessed all to Fleur? But no, why on earth would he do that?

  Fleur regarded her coldly. “My, my, how very flustered you are, to be sure,” she said softly. “It is plain you are plagued with conscience, my dear.”

  Ellie really didn’t know how to handle the situation and was on the point of confessing everything when common sense gave her a stern prod. Confess when she might be misreading this entire conversation? Better to make sure of the facts first.

  “Miss Tudor, will you at least do me the courtesy of telling me why you wish me to stay away from the castle?”

  “You know perfectly well.”

  “On the contrary, I—”

  “Don’t play the innocent!” Fleur snapped. “I know an adventuress when I see one, and you, Miss Rutherford, have it written all over you. Who are you? Her sister? Her cousin?”

  Mrs. Lewis’s relative was becoming a liability, Ellie thought, irritation mixing with the guilt. “I really do not know what you are talking about, Miss Tudor, unless it be Mrs. Lewis’s cousin, of whom I know nothing whatsoever beyond the fact that she is deceased and apparently resembled me.”

  “Don’t try to gull me, for we both know the truth. Well, I’m not about to play into your hands. Lord Griffin is mine, my dear, and the sooner you accept that, the better.”

  The awful creature must know about the meetings in London, Ellie decided in dismay, but confession was now the very last thing on her mind. “Miss Tudor, I do not know that I have ever met Lord Griffin, let alone decided to take him from you.” The words were ambiguous, and not entirely untrue; after all, without seeing Lord Griffin for herself, she couldn’t be absolutely certain he was the Athan she knew.

  “Oh, you’re clever, I’ll grant you that, but in me you’ve met your match. So stay away from the castle, and stay away from him. Be warned, if I hear so much as a whisper about you, I’ll make certain that your uncle is turned out of this place. Believe me, I have the influence to carry out my threat, because Lord Griffin will do anything to please me.”

  Ellie found the future Lady Griffin quite repellent. “Would he be pleased to know you are capable of such obnoxious behavior as this?”

  “Take me on at your peril, Miss Rutherford, for I’m not a prissy little miss who fears saying boo to a goose.”

  Ellie met her gaze without flinching. “No, I realize that, for gossip has you as many things, Miss Tudor, but certainly not a prissy little miss.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “Tongues are wagging about how much you enjoyed your London Season.”

  Fleur gazed at her. “You shouldn’t pay attention to idle gossip, Miss Rutherford, because invariably it’s wrong.”

  “But not always.”

  Fleur turned away, stepped onto the mounting block beside the gate, and got on the horse with sufficient grace for Rotten Row. Then she gathered the reins, and looked down at Ellie.

  “Leave Nantgarth House as quickly as you can, because if you’re still here when Lord Griffin returns, I will see to it that not only is your dear uncle turned out on his well-bred ear, but that his debts are called in as well. So think carefully, and put him before your little schemes.”

  Ellie gave no outward sign of the dismay she felt inside. She dared not take such a threat lightly, especially not when her uncle was already in fear of duns from his past. The last thing he could contemplate was more such trouble because of his niece, so Fleur Tudor’s warning would have to be heeded. Ellie Rutherford would have to turn her back on her new home, and somehow make her own way in life after all.

  But sad resignation to her fate was suddenly wiped from Ellie’s thoughts by a few seconds of pure farce, all at Fleur’s expense. From the corner of the nearby alley, Gwilym Lewis decided to don his horse charmer’s hat and have a little fun with the woman who’d been responsible for his mother’s dismissal, and who was making his own life difficult too. Ellie was aware of the youth standing with his hands in his pockets, eyes closed, lips pursed as if whistling, except that not a sound seemed to come out—at least, not a sound that a human could hear.

  Fleur’s mount, however, certainly seemed aware of something, for it tossed its head and capered around, refusing to come to command. Fleur’s face rapidly went the color of her riding habit as the horse danced around as if in time to music. Around went Fleur as well, for all the world like a performer at Astley’s Amphitheatre.

  Ellie enjoyed her foe’s predicament, but Gwilym dared not go too far, so stopped what he was doing and slipped back down the alley. The horse immediately came to order, but Fleur looked anything but composed. Her face remained the same hot hue as her riding habit, her hat had been slightly dislodged, and the coils of her long ringlet were no longer as shiningly even as they had been. She knew she looked a fool, but not that she had been made a fool of, as with a rather ungainly kick of her heels she urged the horse away up the lane toward the fork.

  Ellie watched as she took the track to the left and began the long climb up the mountainside toward the squat-towered parish church, now clearly visible in the morning sunshine.

  Turning, Ellie retraced her steps toward the house, and as she entered she heard Mrs. Lewis working in the kitchens. Ellie went toward the sound and saw the housekeeper kneading dough, banging it so heartily upon the floured table that it was Ellie’s informed guess it represented the head of Miss Fleur Tudor. “May I ask you something, Mrs. Lewis?” she asked from the doorway.

  Mrs. Lewis stopped kneading and wiped her hand slowly on a damp cloth. “Yes, of course, Miss Ellie.”

  “Who, exactly, was your late cousin?”

  “Why do you ask, Miss Ellie?”

  “Because Miss Tudor took one look at me a few minutes ago and behaved exactly as you did last night. It is quite obvious that I am the living image of your cousin, and—”

  “Not of my cousin, Miss Ellie,” the housekeeper interrupted quietly. “I don’t have a cousin. It was just something I felt I ought to say. On the spur of the moment, you understand.”

  She moved to the window, and made much of removing some dead flowers from the white geraniums; then she turned, her tongue passing uneasily over her lips. “
Miss Ellie, the person you resemble so greatly is the late Lady Griffin.”

  Ellie stared.

  “Yes. Her name was Caroline, and it is only from a portrait up at the castle that anyone knows her. It might almost be you gazing from that canvas.”

  And that was the only likeness Lawrence painted of you? Athan seemed to speak in Ellie’s ear, and she knew there could no longer be any doubt at all. Connection with the Unicorn Bank or not, her Athan and Lord Griffin were definitely the same man.

  Mrs. Lewis looked anxiously at her. “Please sit down, Miss Ellie. I will make a cup of tea and tell you all I can.”

  Ellie obeyed, and the housekeeper set about placing a kettle on the hook over the fire. “The portrait is, well, a little shocking.”

  “Shocking?”

  Mrs. Lewis cleared her throat in embarrassment. “She seems to be wearing little more than a carefully draped shawl.”

  “I see.” Portrait of a lady? Or an actress? Ellie’s thoughts were still in the garden of the Crown Inn, Hounslow.

  The housekeeper put tea into a teapot, then brought blue-and-white cups and saucers. “Before his sudden marriage, Lord Griffin had been shamelessly pursued by every single lady in Glamorgan, and half the ladies of London too. Then, just when he found happiness, his new bride left him and never returned. It was very sad. He bore it well, but I often saw him gazing at her portrait with such a look of longing in his eyes that I know he loved her very much.” Mrs. Lewis sighed and shook her head sadly. “I know it is not my place to speak of such things, Miss Ellie, but it is the truth.”

  “And now he loves Miss Tudor instead?”

  “Maybe. All I know is that he discouraged her advances for a long time and refused to countenance ending his first marriage in order to take another wife. Then, quite suddenly, there came news that he was a widower, and he promptly proposed to Miss Tudor. Until then it had not seemed he would have considered such a match even had he never married. I still cannot believe he loves Miss Tudor, but feel certain he has decided he must marry again in order to secure an heir to his title and estates. Begging your pardon, Miss Ellie, for now I really am speaking out of turn.”

  “Mrs. Lewis, when you worked at the castle, did you ever hear anything about Lord Griffin being connected with the Unicorn Bank in London?”

  “No, I didn’t, Miss Ellie.”

  “You’re quite sure?”

  “I’m positive, Miss Ellie.” The kettle was boiling, so the housekeeper got up to pour water into the waiting teapot.

  Ellie was puzzled. She was now convinced that her Athan was also Lord Griffin, yet there seemed to be a mystery where the bank was concerned. Unless, of course, such a connection were really quite recent, so recent that it must have taken place not long before he set out for St. Petersburg—perhaps even the day she met him. Was that why he’d been there?

  Mrs. Lewis joined her at the table and spoke again of Fleur. “Now that you’ve come here, looking so like the lady in the portrait, Miss Tudor probably views you as a great threat. After all, if he loved his first wife as I think he did, then he might think he has found her again in you.”

  Ellie could almost feel the early-autumn sunshine in the Crown Inn’s garden. Yes, he had thought he’d found his wife again ... or at least, that he’d found her sister or cousin. Certainly someone who seemed to be Caroline’s living image. If that was what had prompted him to kiss her as he did, then Fleur was wise to be afraid of such a rival.

  Mrs. Lewis poured the tea, then looked at her. “I will be honest, Miss Ellie. Gwilym and I hope and pray that you do become her rival. There is nothing we would like more than to see you supplant her at the castle.”

  Ellie blushed. “You oughtn’t to say such things, Mrs. Lewis.”

  “I know, but I also know what a shock he will have when first he sees you.”

  Ellie looked away, for that moment had already happened, and yes, he’d certainly had a shock. And given what had ensued by a secluded duck pond, so had she! Still, it was all in the past now, and a further encounter with Athan could not be permitted.

  “Mrs. Lewis, I share your dislike of Miss Tudor, who does indeed think my looks will interfere with her plans. So much does she fear it that unless I leave Nantgarth House, she intends to have my uncle ejected. There is even a suggestion of prompting Lord Griffin to call in outstanding debts, and you and I both know how perilous my uncle’s finances are.”

  The housekeeper’s nostrils flared with fury. “Oh, the iniquitous creature, the diabolical vixen!”

  “Quite so, but I dare not ignore her. I will have to seek a position somewhere well away from the castle, so if you should happen to hear of anything....”

  Mrs. Lewis leaned across the table to put a gentle hand over hers. “You are safe here, Miss Ellie, and so is Mr. Bailey. Lord Griffin may be intending to marry her, but he will not listen to her on such a matter. When he shakes hands on an arrangement with another gentleman, his word is binding. So defy her, my dear, stay on as you intended, and refuse to be driven from Nantgarth.”

  “But—”

  “I’m right about this, Miss Ellie. Lord Griffin is nothing if not a man of complete honor.” Mrs. Lewis placed a cup of tea in front of Ellie.

  A man of complete honor who also happened to be associated with the thoroughly disreputable and villainous Unicorn Bank, Ellie thought unhappily, but as she had nowhere else to go at the moment, she would have to stay.

  No doubt, word of Lord Griffin’s return would precede him, in which case she would have to do something more positive. In the meantime she would keep her eyes and ears open for any likely situation that presented itself.

  Chapter Eleven

  At Castle Griffin that evening, when all was quiet and the servants no longer in evidence, Fleur took a lighted silver-gilt candelabrum from the stone mantel in the oak-paneled drawing room, which had once been the Norman castle solar. Then she instructed her mother to accompany her to Athan’s private apartments.

  Mrs. Tudor looked up from her letter writing. “Go to his private rooms? Are you mad?” she gasped, putting her pen down.

  She was plump, and inclined to rouge her cheeks, which made her look hot as well as overweight, but it was still clear that she had once been very beautiful. Her hair, now pepper-and-salt and thus fully powdered to make it white, had been a rich golden color, and her hazel eyes were still large and eloquent. She was wearing pearls and an indigo satin dinner gown, for she and her daughter would not have dreamed of being less than formal in the evenings.

  “Fleur, you have been in a very odd mood since you returned from your ride today. What on earth is the matter?”

  “I am about to show you, Mama,” Fleur replied, sweeping toward the arched doorway in a rustle of peach taffeta. “Come on, for I wish you to see something.”

  With a sigh her mother rose from the writing desk. “If we’re discovered prying into Lord Griffin’s private apartments ...” she began.

  “We won’t be. At this time the servants are too busy dining in style in the kitchens,” Fleur observed dryly, leading the way along the wainscotted passage into the great Norman hall. “Besides, they wouldn’t dare to tell tales about us, not when I am so certain to be the next Lady Griffin.”

  Fleur shielded the candles with her hand, and their satin slippers were silent in the vast hall, where the hammerbeam roof was still blackened by the smoke of long-gone central fires. Two huge chimneypieces at either end provided present-day warmth, and the fires had been banked for the night so they only glowed very faintly. There were no other lights, and the only sounds were caused by the wind moaning around the turrets and battlements.

  “Do not count chickens before they are hatched, Fleur,” warned Mrs. Tudor. “I know only too well how easy it is to imagine a deed is as good as done.”

  “Just because things went wrong for you, it doesn’t follow that I will be equally as foolish,” Fleur responded, gathering her skirts to ascend the ancient oak staircase that r
ose from the far end of the great hall.

  “You’re quite mad if you think you can already do as you please,” her mother observed. “In fact, you’ll be mad if you do as you please even after you’re wed, for he isn’t the sort of man who—”

  “Don’t presume to offer me advice, Mama!” Fleur halted and whirled about on the stairs, making the candles smoke and gutter, and setting shadows leaping all around.

  Mrs. Tudor recoiled a little, but wasn’t cowed. “But you need advice, Fleur! I still cannot believe you behaved as you did in London last summer. You didn’t only encourage one man, but two, and without any thought at all for your reputation.”

  “That isn’t true, Mama. Well, I admit there were two gentlemen, but it’s wrong to say I was indiscreet. On the contrary, I was the soul of discretion, and no one knows about it, no one at all.”

  “There are whispers in Cardiff, as you know full well, and if Lord Griffin hears them....”

  “May I remind you that last summer he was still well and truly married to his first wife? I was obliged to look where I could for a prospective husband, and that was what I was doing. How was I to know he would suddenly be free?” Fleur’s hand shook with anger, and some droplets of hot wax splashed from the candelabrum.

  “If men marry whores, my dear, those whores must have money,” her mother responded. “Silly flibbertigibbets who only pretend they are great heiresses are used and discarded.”

  She looked at Fleur. “You pretended to have a fortune, didn’t you? Oh, don’t try to deny it, for I know you too well, my girl. General Tudor left us both in penury, and it’s Lord Griffin who really supplies the allowances that supposedly come from the general’s estate.”