Falcon's Keep

by Henrietta Reid

  ‘Perhaps he feels he has as much right as you to wander about the countryside,’ Ginny said. She pulled her hat down determinedly, the light of battle in her eye.

  ‘Ah-ha, so we’ve a crusader on our hands, have we?’ he said. ‘Do you know, Ginny, I don’t usually get particularly enthusiastic about Grandfather’s current crazes, but in this case I feel I’m going to enjoy myself.’

  The road recessed in a wide semi-circle of tall stone walls and he swung through iron gates. The entrance was impressive. In the twilight Ginny could see what appeared to be stone falcons with wings spread on each high pier. Beyond the iron gates, however, the avenue was simply a long twisting track amongst shrubs and evergreens and red-berried yews. The encroaching foliage dripped dismally in the mist-laden air, and Ginny, worn out by her travels, shivered a little.

  He chuckled. ‘Not what you had in mind, I’ll be bound -but then I expect you’ll be in for a few surprises, my dear Ginny.’

  Before she could reply, however, the car had reached the top of a gentle incline and Ginny gave a little gasp of surprise at the scene before her. On raised ground stood the crenellated walls of what had once been a fortress, now crumbling and draped with ivy and lichen. The dull leaden sky outlined the ruins in marked contrast to the rambling mullion-windowed mansion that adjoined it so closely that it appeared to merge with the ancient foundation. To the left lay a lake glistening dully like molten lead and surrounded by sedge and reeds. As the car drew up beneath the terrace Ginny sat motionless, silenced by the unexpected beauty of the scene, feeling that the lowering mist-filled sky only seemed to add to its mystical, almost enchanted quality.

  Rikki glanced at her curiously. ‘Well, what do you think of Falcon’s Keep, or what remains of it? The house is Tudor, which makes it positively modem compared to the original.’ Ginny clasped her hands. ‘It’s the most lovely thing I’ve ever seen. The lake reminds me of the tales of the Round Table. You know the bit in Tennyson about the arm, “clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful.” ’

  ‘Can’t say I do. I was chucked out of several respectable scholastic establishments at a tender age, which is not surprising.’ He leaned over and opened the door. ‘Hop out, like a good girl. It’s a bit dampish and I feel a roaring fire and a hot posset would do the old bones good. By the way,’ he added thoughtfully, ‘let’s hope brother Luke hasn’t arrived home yet, for I had the distinct impression that he fully intends to make himself as unpleasant as possible.’

  Exhaustion and excitement had robbed Ginny of all emotion, and it was without any particular reaction that she let herself be escorted into the old hall with its high arching ceiling. As she stood blinking in the light she became aware that she was being observed by a small dumpy figure clothed in black serge.

  ‘Ah, Mrs. Hingston,’ Rikki said brightly, evidently unaware of the inimical glance the housekeeper was directing at the small figure standing at his side. ‘I happened to meet Miss Lovelace in the train and gave her a lift. I hope this hasn’t cast a spanner in your plans for a reception committee.’

  Mrs. Hingston ignored his flippancy. ‘There was a car sent down to the station, like Mr. Nicholas ordered. No doubt you

  tore off with the young lady before it arrived. ’

  ‘No doubt,’ Rikki agreed, completely unimpressed by the housekeeper’s evident disapproval.

  ‘In any case he’ll be able to collect the rest of the young lady’s baggage,’ Mrs. Hingston remarked, eyeing Ginny’s suitcase disparagingly.

  ‘There isn’t any,’ Ginny remarked uncomfortably.

  ‘I see. In that case, I’ll show the young lady to her room. The Master says he’s sorry but he has been poorly lately and don’t feel up to seeing you tonight, though he’ll meet you tomorrow after breakfast. ’

  Grateful for the attention, equivocal as it was, and the implied suggestion that a meal was to follow the freshening-up process, Ginny followed Mrs. Hingston up the wide stairs. They creaked in a cheerful and welcoming sort of way that was in distinct contrast to the housekeeper’s austere manner. She had made it fairly obvious that she was only obeying her employer’s directions and that as far as she was concerned Ginny was of little importance.

  Ginny seemed to follow the squat figure along endless corridors and turns until they came to a door that led off a broad corridor. The housekeeper paused and turned the handle with an air of reverence, then, flinging the door wide, signalled Ginny to enter. ‘It’s the Peacock Room they call it,’ she announced, then, standing back, studied Ginny covertly as she observed her surroundings.

  ‘But it’s beautiful!’ Ginny cried, clasping her hands in pleasure. The numb weariness that had held her in a sort of icy indifference melted at the sight of her room. Richly coloured panels depicting peacocks lined the enormous room. From the four-poster bed were draped rich velvet curtains embroidered with peacock’s fans in brilliant silks and the bedroom chairs were backed by ebony carved with the same motif.

  ‘It seems in olden days one of the Kendricks travelling in foreign parts saw a room like this and nothing would do him but he’d have it copied. Useless expense, if you ask me,’ the old woman added sourly, ‘but Mr. Nicholas says you’re to

  have it. ’

  Ginny turned and glanced at her in dismay. It was obvious from her tone and attitude that the housekeeper bitterly resented her and all her sudden pleasure in her surroundings drained away. It was true, she thought hollowly, as Mrs. Hingston crossed to the long window and released a fold of the heavy curtain which was caught into the tapestry loop that held it back. It was altogether much too ornate and pretentious - yet part of her sympathized with the unknown Kendrick who had coveted such gaudy splendour.

  Before departing Mrs. Hingston pointed out that the bathroom lay at the end of one of the long passages that led off the main corridor, then paused for a moment at Ginny’s door. ‘We’re not used to having young ladies here at Falcon’s Keep. I’ve always taken care of the family and know their ways, so there’s no call to feel that you should help in the running of the house - after all, you’re only a visitor,’ she added significantly. Then, informing Ginny bleakly that she had laid out a cold meal for her and Rikki and that Mr. Rikki was notoriously unpunctual, she departed, still bearing an air of barely concealed disapproval.

  Ginny crossed to her case and, opening it, took out her sponge-bag. A glance in the long mirror had told her that she needed freshening up. Her hair was untidy and her nose had a distinct shine on the tip. All in all she felt that she didn’t fit in with her surroundings.

  Sponge-bag in hand, she timidly ventured out into the broad corridor and, after turning down the first passage she came to, wandered on past what appeared to be countless unused rooms until she located the bathroom. It was, as predicted by Rikki, extremely old-fashioned, the huge bath encased in mahogany and the plumbing of an ancient variety.

  When she had tidied herself she retraced her steps, and as she hurried down a corridor she bit back a scream as a door suddenly opened and she crashed into a tall figure who emerged.

  ‘And who are you?’ a deep voice asked abruptly. Two hard steely hands gripped her by the elbows and as Ginny regained her balance she stood back and glanced up at the stranger.

  He was extremely tall, she noted, with dark shadowed cheekbones and a wide thin mouth. He looked hawk-like, she decided, and faintly menacing, like the falcons with spread wings that guarded the Kendrick gates. This would be Luke Kendrick: there was the family resemblance to Rikki in the set of the head and the thick arched eyebrows, yet apart from these points there was no similarity in the dark swarthy man to the charming, easy-going Rikki.

  ‘Well?’ He shook her a little with unconscious impatience. ‘Will you kindly stop taking stock of me and answer my question. I don’t recognize you.’ His eyes travelled over her small figure: the unsuitable clothes, the cheap sponge-bag of yellow and pink plastic, her whole general air of being ill-at-ease and insecure in her surroundings. ‘Are you a new
girl Mrs. Hingston has taken on? If so, the sooner you learn the lie of the house the better. You’re in the family quarters, you know. I imagine Mrs. Hingston would take a dim view if she knew you were gallivanting all over the place. Can’t you remember where your room is?’

  ‘Mrs. Hingston did say my room was called the Peacock Room,’ Ginny said in a small voice.

  He drew back and dropped his hands with a suddenness that was insulting. ‘So you’re Virginia - let’s see - I forget the name, Love something, isn’t it?’

  ‘Lovelace,’ Ginny put in, feeling her face flush at the contempt in his voice.

  ‘That’s right, I remember, Virginia Lovelace. My grandfather showed me your letter. So you’re one of his lame ducks, are you?’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Ginny said.

  ‘Don’t you?’ His dark eyes raked her and she turned her head to escape the withering scorn that seemed tangibly to emanate from him. ‘I should have imagined Mr. Ruttledge would have made the position clear to you.’

  ‘What position?’ she asked, feeling a flicker of defiance.

  It was obvious from what he said that he had discussed with Mr. Ruttledge the attitude that should be adopted towards anyone who answered his grandfather’s advertisement and claimed relationship to the Kendricks. Looking at his dark, hard eyes, she realized he was the type of man who would repel all invaders.

  ‘My grandfather is a man of strong character,’ he said abruptly. ‘He is also given to sudden enthusiasms. Unfortunately when his interest in the current enthusiasm wanes you may find your visit to Falcon’s Keep terminated with brutal abruptness. I’m telling you this,’ he added, ‘only to spare you any painful surprises in the future.’

  No, you aren’t, Ginny thought, staring at the hard emotionless face, and on sudden impulse she said, ‘You don’t really care, do you?’

  ‘About what?’ he said, looking faintly surprised.

  ‘Whether I’m ejected, as you say. You don’t really care how I feel about it, because you don’t want me here.’

  He looked at her with sudden intensity as though for the first time focusing his attention on her. ‘My reactions can be of no possible interest to you,’ he said coldly. ‘I was merely trying to save you from future humiliation, but I see that I’m wasting my time.’ He continued to gaze at her thoughtfully, then said with startling abruptness, ‘And just who are you, Virginia Lovelace? How do you enter into the picture?’

  For a moment Ginny was on the point of explaining to him how the interview with Mr. Ruttledge had come about. It was natural for her to speak openly and frankly about her affairs, yet this time she felt a reluctance to confide in this tall, cold-looking stranger.

  He smiled mockingly as he saw the conflicting emotions that flitted across her small mobile face. ‘At any rate you’ve satisfied Mr. Ruttledge and my grandfather that you can claim relationship - slight as it may be - otherwise you wouldn’t be in the Peacock Room, for I can assure you my grandfather isn’t an easy man to deceive.’ And without waiting for her reaction he strode past her quickly and disappeared down the long corridor.

  For an instant Ginny gazed after him, clenching her hands in sudden fury. Well, if old Mr. Kendrick was anything like his grandson she was not surprised that Rikki had prophesied her stay would last only a week!

  Later, sitting alone in the vast dining-room, she consumed in solitary state the meal laid out for her by Mrs. Hingston. But there was no sign of Rikki. Obviously he was helping himself to his ‘hot posset’.

  Around her were the varnished pictures of long-defunct Kendricks, and in some of them Ginny recognized the thin cold austere features of Luke Kendrick. They were features that seemed to have come down strongly in the family, she noticed: the thin hawk-like nose and dark enigmatic eyes. Afterwards she stood up, wondering through long habit whether she should collect the dishes, yet not knowing in what direction they should be taken. The house was so vast, and she had no intention of being caught wandering about the ground floor with piles of dishes in her hands by Luke Kendrick. She giggled a little at the idea and then looked about her guiltily as the sound broke the silence of the long high-ceilinged room. It was as though the portraits witnessed her frivolity with cold accusing eyes.

  ‘Do I hear girlish peals of laughter?’ a voice said behind her, and Ginny gave a little squeal of alarm.

  ‘Sorry,’ Rikki said. He crossed to the table and helped himself to some grapes from the large epergne in the middle of the table. ‘I seem to have given you a fright, although frankly you don’t look the nervous type.’

  ‘Well, I’m not as a rule, but there’s something about this room with all those paintings looking so severe as though they’d absolutely no sense of humour.’

  Rikki shrugged and popped a grape into his mouth. ‘I don’t suppose they had,’ he said, ‘at least not those who resemble Luke. You see there are two distinct types in our family and they seem to have come down with distressing regularity. There’s my grandfather, for instance, all rectitude, and Luke who’s really boringly virtuous. On the other hand there was an uncle who seems to have had all my peculiar aptitude for taking life lightly. Naturally I’m not approved of, but then I don’t think Luke really approves of anyone. By the way, have you met him yet - and if so what conclusions have you come to about the hope of the Kendricks?’

  ‘I don’t think he liked me particularly,’ she said a little ruefully, ‘but then I didn’t like him much either.’

  Rikki laughed, delighted at this admission. ‘Good for you! I bet you were well able for him. ’

  ‘It’s difficult to be able for someone who makes it plain you’re an unwelcome guest.’

  ‘So that’s the line he’s taking!’ Rikki looked thoughtful. ‘Well, it’s a good excuse for making things as uncomfortable as he can for you. If I were you I wouldn’t let him get me down. After all, if Grandfather wants you here that’s the main thing. Well, I certainly do. You’re like a breath of spring sunshine in this gloomy old mausoleum.’

  Although she suspected that Rikki’s charm was easily assumed she couldn’t help warming to his approval. With the exception of Rikki no one she had met since she had come to Falcon’s Keep had shown the smallest friendliness. Mrs. Hingston and Luke had expressed nothing but suspicion and dislike, and she wondered what the morning would bring when she was to be interviewed after breakfast by old Mr. Kendrick.

  Out of habit she woke early the next morning and for a moment lay puzzled by her surroundings. Through the long curtains the early grey morning light filtered, filling the big room with dim shadows. It was strange not to have to hurry, not to have to jump out of bed and hurry down to the basement and begin the day’s chores as she had done at Clarkson’s. She lay in the enormous bed, puzzled as to what was expected of her. Should she get up and find her way downstairs or wait until she got some inkling of what was expected of her? After her solitary meal on the previous evening and her conversation with Rikki, who had later disappeared about his own devices, she had seen no sign of Mrs. Hingston, and after tentatively wandering around she had retired to the Peacock Room and had unpacked her few possessions, which had looked ridiculously inadequate when they were stowed in the big drawers and cavernous wardrobe.

  Unused to lying in bed in the mornings, she got up and crossing to one of the windows pulled back the heavy curtains. Outside the lake gleamed with the rosy light of dawn. It was very beautiful, she decided, but with the cold withdrawn beauty that was somehow expressive of Falcon’s Keep. She turned from the window and wandered disconsolately back to bed. Handsome as the bed was, it had proved singularly hard, and Ginny shuddered a little as she slipped in between the cold linen sheets.

  It was just then she heard a light tap on her door and before she could call the door opened and Mrs. Hingston came in carrying a tray. She acknowledged Ginny briefly and crossing to a bedside table laid down her burden, then glancing at the open curtain, moved swiftly to the other windows and swept the curtains back
with quick, practised movements. She looked as tightly groomed as she had on the previous evening, and Ginny wondered for a moment if she ever closed her eyes. She had the air of someone continually on the watch, jealous of her position and careful that no one should usurp her prerogatives.

  As though aware of Ginny’s scrutiny she turned and said abruptly, ‘ After breakfast Mr. Kendrick will see you in the library.’

  A little self-consciously Ginny poured tea from the small silver tea-pot, feeling ill at ease under the housekeeper’s gaze. Used as she was to serving others, she felt embarrassed that this severe little woman should be attending on her, and wondered fleetingly if she should make herself useful by

  carrying down the tray when she was finished.

  As though guessing her thoughts Mrs. Hingston said swiftly, ‘Like I said, as you’re a guest here you mustn’t feel you’re expected to do anything. There are two girls from the village who come up every day. I’ll get Alison to fetch the tray when you’re finished.’

  ‘Oh, don’t bother—’ Ginny began eagerly.

  But Mrs. Hingston put up her hand. ‘Mr. Kendrick wouldn’t hear of it. After all, you’re a sort of relation, aren’t you, and his honoured guest.’ She made no effort to hide the derision in her voice and Ginny, taken aback by her malice, and completely at a loss, gazed at her helplessly.

  Then, drawing herself upright, Mrs. Hingston said formally, ‘I’m in complete control here, Miss Lovelace. The old master depends on me to see to things and the girls take their orders from me: any change of routine would only upset them. ’

  Ginny nodded dumbly. Mrs. Hingston was conveying without any noticeable tact that any well-meaning interference on her part would be deeply resented. It was strange that such jealousy and possessiveness should be contained within that rigid figure with its air of rectitude and superiority. She stared at the housekeeper with genuine interest, not aware that the frank absorption of her glance could cause discomfort.