Three Graces

by Victoria Connelly

  ‘Now, I really feel as if I’m home,’ Phoebe said, smiling up from the carpet, a wild tail whacking her in the face.

  Chapter 8

  For somebody who’d never envisioned being a bride, Carys hadn’t done too badly: there were over six hundred guests in Carminster Cathedral, and a huge crowd of locals and tourists outside to see what was happening.

  Arriving in an beautiful Rolls Royce Silver Ghost, her good friend, Duncan, the man who was giving her away, suddenly forgot his own nerves and became a pillar of strength, leading her to the great west door where she had no less than five bridesmaids: Richard’s sisters, Phoebe and Serena, her best friend, Louise, and Richard’s two daughters, Cecily and Evelyn, all wearing dresses the colour of bluebells in a floaty fabric which danced in the slightest breeze. Their bouquets were full of blush-pink summer roses and Cecily and Evie wore a pretty halo of matching roses.

  For five minutes, they all just stared, smiling and cooing at their collective beauty.

  ‘Hey!’ Duncan said at last. ‘Shouldn’t we be getting married?’

  Dresses were quickly fluffed, trains and tiaras straightened and smiles were fixed into place. And then it began - the slow walk.

  A bride, she’d read in one of the many magazines she’d leafed through over the past weeks, should have no misgivings when walking down the aisle towards her husband-to-be. Carys took a deep breath. How many had she counted the night before? She was worried about leaving her job, worried about becoming a second wife, worried about her new role as a step-mother, worried about her role as daughter-in-law to the formidable duke and duchess, worried about being able to fit in at Amberley, and worried about her future role as marchioness and duchess. How many was that? One, two, three, four, five, SIX! Oh, dear! Was that normal or should she turn and run? Surely it was too late now. There were over six hundred pairs of eyes watching her.

  A comforting pat on the hand from Duncan restored a little of her faith. Had he felt her panic there for a moment?

  Carys didn’t dare look at anything but the few feet of aisle in front of her. She only knew a handful of people anyway as her family was so small. There’d be her mother and Aunt Josephine somewhere at the front and a handful of cousins she hadn’t seen for years. There were plenty of people from the office, of course, but it was a bit of a poor turnout when you compared her guests to those who’d been on Richard’s list. She’d never seen so many titles in her life. There were dukes and duchesses, earls and countesses, barons and honorables, lords and ladies. It was a whole level of society she had no knowledge of. Seeing them all now via periphery vision, she wondered how many Richard actually knew or, more to the point, how many he actually liked. Did they all get on or was there some unwritten code which stated that you couldn’t have a wedding without them? She knew that only a select few of them would be coming back to Amberley for the reception and dinner but it seemed like an extraordinary waste of money to Carys. She would have been quite happy with a simple ceremony for their nearest and dearest but, apparently, that wasn’t fitting for a future duke and duchess.

  But it was a beautiful ceremony. It may have passed by in a blur of happiness but Carys would never forget the look of tenderness in Richard’s eyes or the smell of the lilies by the altar. She’d never forget the gentle way he placed the slim gold ring on her finger or the way he kissed her so sweetly when they were pronounced husband and wife.

  After that, it was back to Amberley where there was a reception in the Great Hall. The florist had created great billowing displays of pink and white roses and the cavernous space smelt heavenly.

  Richard took her arm and led her upstairs to the Long Gallery. The room was alive with lilies and roses, and candles had been lit, their light reflecting in the crystal glasses. Carys had never seen anything so beautiful. She sat down with Richard and watched as the guests found their seats. Excited chatter filled the room and her eyes travelled the length of the table. She surprised herself by remembering quite a few of the faces that she’d greeted as they’d arrived. There was the gentleman who’d fondled her fingers. There was the woman who’d complimented her on her dress. And there was the little old lady in indigo. What was it she’d told Carys? She frowned. Think. It was something ridiculous. Something which had almost made her laugh out loud. Ah, yes, she remembered.

  ‘You know why the last one left, don’t you?’

  Carys had responded with a look of puzzlement.

  ‘She was scared off,’ the old lady had said, a glint of mischief in her eyes.

  Carys felt sure the old lady meant that Amanda hadn’t been able to cope with being mistress of such a huge house. But she hadn’t.

  ‘She was haunted out!’ the old lady had said. ‘Amberley Court is haunted, you know.’

  Chapter 9

  Dear Diary

  I’ve never kept a diary before in my life but, seeing as this was a wedding present from Francesca, I’ve decided to give it a go.

  I still find it hard to believe that I’m a married woman. After a wedding night in the West Turret Bedroom at Amberley - another Bretton tradition - we journeyed up to the Highlands to Glentorran Lodge. It was wonderful if chilly. I was trying desperately not to think of girlfriends who’ve honeymooned in Barbados, the Seychelles and Hawaii, and content myself with miles of violet heather and a wind that did its best to skin me alive. And I tried not to think about scuba diving in crystal waters and sunbathing on sugared sand, and threw myself into ten-mile hikes.

  When we got back to Amberley, we were greeted by Cecily and Evie. I say greeted, but I still haven’t experienced anything approaching warmth with Cecily. Evie is an absolute sweetheart, though, and presented me with a beautiful bunch of flowers from the estate.

  It’s taken me a while to settle in because I’m still not sure how I’m to fit in at Amberley. Richard and I have our quarters and the duke and duchess have theirs but there doesn’t seem to be any guidelines as to what to do about the space in between. It’s not as though I’d wander around the house in my nightie, and I know it’s best to avoid the public rooms when they’re open but I don’t feel entirely comfortable using the other rooms. The Yellow Drawing Room off the hallway is fine. I don’t feel that I have to be on my best behaviour there, sitting ramrod straight in case Richard’s mother walks in. I don’t know what it is about her but she makes me feel slightly - maybe I shouldn’t say. It might be wrong to write down my true feelings about her in a diary she bought for me. She might feel she has the right to read it and then I’ll be discovered!!!

  Carys closed the diary and stretched her arms and got up from the sofa where she’d been writing and walked over to the window which looked out towards the woods at the back of Amberley Court.

  The house was curiously quiet and Carys wondered if it was always like this. The girls were with their tutor for their lessons and Richard’s brother and sisters had also vanished, and she’d seen very little of Richard’s parents too which was a shame because she’d really hoped that she’d bond with Francesca and that she’d give her some sort of informal induction into the business of being a new wife at Amberley. But it was clear that they were to lead separate lives under the same enormous roof.

  Looking out of the window, the sun smiling down from a clear blue sky, Carys thought she’d do some exploring - outside. Richard had given her a quick tour of the estate after returning from Scotland but it wouldn’t be quite the same as exploring it herself. He’d also told her she should spend her first few weeks redecorating their private apartments but she didn’t feel like flicking through magazines and catalogues today. It was the sort of day that demanded you spent it outdoors and, venturing downstairs, she determined to do just that.

  She was just wondering if she should put on a pair of boots when Mrs Travis, the housekeeper walked into the hallway.

  ‘Good morning, Lady Amberley.’

  Carys winced slightly at the use of her title. She still hadn’t got used to it.

  ‘Good m
orning,’ she replied trying, at least, to sound like a lady even if she didn’t yet feel like one.

  ‘Lord Amberley thought, perhaps, you might like to take charge of the dog walking, my lady. If you were going outside?’

  ‘Dog walking?’ Carys exclaimed. She hadn’t planned on that. She’d just wanted a nice little stroll around the estate.

  ‘Yes,’ Mrs Travis went on. ‘There are five dogs and they like two or three good walks a day and-’

  ‘Five?’ Carys said, feeling very much like Maria in The Sound of Music when she’s told how many Von Trapp children she’ll be looking after. She’d heard about the great number of dogs the Brettons had but had conveniently forgotten about them. They were, she assumed, somebody else’s responsibility.

  ‘Lord Amberley thought it would be most enjoyable for you.’

  ‘He did, did he?’ she said. What a coward he was, she thought. He hadn’t dared raise the subject with her directly because he’d known she’d have shot him down. ‘But I don’t have that many hands. How will I hold on to them all?’ she asked, imagining a circus of crazy arms as she struggled to control five hounds.

  ‘You don’t need leads. Just take them out into the park. They’ll follow wherever you take them but be sure they don’t get into the deer park, especially Dolly. She likes to bolt every now and then. Here,’ Mrs Travis said, digging into a voluminous pocket, ‘take this whistle.’

  Carys looked down at the tiny mettle object which was her only means of controlling five unruly dogs.

  ‘I’ve never owned a dog.’

  ‘Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. It’s a piece of cake.’

  Carys gave a nervous smile, thinking she’d sooner stay indoors with a piece of cake.

  ‘And Lord A thought it would be an excellent way to get to know the estate,’ Mrs Travis added, seeing that Carys needed further encouragement. ‘Badger, that’s the black and white cocker, is getting on a bit now and might lag behind but he’s fine. Just let him go at his own pace. Foxy, the golden cocker has a habit of trying to disappear down rabbit holes. Thinks she’s a terrier. Drag her out by her collar. Dizzy’s no bother - runs ahead and does her own spaniel thing, and Mungo, the Labrador, is an angel. He’d walk by your side if you took him over hot coals.’

  Carys took a deep breath. ‘So,’ she said, ‘where are they?’

  Without any warning, Mrs Travis suddenly yelled, ‘DOGGIES!’ and the thunderous sound of paws across floorboards was heard. Where they’d all been, Carys could only guess but they knew Mrs Travis’s voice when they heard it and were standing in the hallway at full attention in no time.

  ‘Right,’ Carys said. ‘Dolly, Dizzy, Badger, Foxy and Mungo,’ she said, pointing out to each of her new walking companions in turn. ‘Sure there aren’t any more?’

  ‘Not at the moment but you never can tell. His grace has been thinking about getting a couple of pointers but-’

  ‘Good heavens, I was joking!’

  ‘And I hope his grace is too. He has no idea how much they all cost to keep. Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, turning round to dig her hand into a metal container on a small console table by the door, ‘you’d better take some of these.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Treats - for the dogs. If you need to call them back.’

  ‘What do I do with them?’

  ‘Pop them in your pocket there,’ she said, picking a weather-beaten jacket from the enormous coat rail by the door. ‘You’d better wear this. It’s going to rain later.’

  Carys grimaced as she was handed the dog treats. Pockets were for crisp white tissues and an emergency lipstick, not smelly dog biscuits.

  ‘What if I get lost?’

  Mrs Travis smiled and gave a short laugh. ‘You can see the house for miles. I don’t think you’ll get lost. But, just in case, you’d better take this.’ She turned round and opened a drawer in the console table. ‘Here,’ she said, giving her one of the maps they sold in the gift shop. ‘You can’t go far wrong with this, my lady.’

  Leaving Amberley far behind her, Carys’s strides became longer and more confident and she breathed in the air as if it were made for her alone.

  Mrs Travis was right: Amberley could be seen for miles and was beautiful from every angle. Carys couldn’t stop looking at it, hardly daring to believe that this was her new home. She also couldn’t stop looking at her watch. It was ten o’clock on a Tuesday morning. Just a few weeks ago, she would have been stuck in the office at Gyland and Green with no hope of a reprieve until lunchtime. Now, here she was, a mistress of her own time.

  As soon as they were out of the house, the four spaniels had taken charge, bolting through the garden towards the hill that led to the wood above Amberley. Carys was happy to follow with Mungo, the black Labrador, for company.

  ‘They seem to know where they’re going,’ she said to herself.

  As she climbed, Amberley became smaller and smaller. She unfolded the map of the grounds and peered at the criss cross of footpaths and then wended her way through the wood. The path was wide, soft and silent and the woods were filled with birdsong. She wished Richard was with her and, for a moment, wondered which part of the estate he was on. He always got up so early and yet there still didn’t seem to be enough time in the day for them to be together. The relaxed husband she’d briefly been allowed to see on their honeymoon had vanished and had been replaced by a workaholic.

  As she looked down from the woods, she saw the beautiful stretch of river which passed through the Amberley estate before wending its way down the valley into Carminster.

  She walked on. The woods appeared to be never-ending and seemed to suck her deep within them until she forgot about everything but the rhythm of her feet and the sweetness of the air she breathed. She passed by a clearing where a great white statue of William, the ninth Duke of Cuthland, stood proudly surveying the view. At another clearing, there was a statue of Diana, the huntress, her arms laced with fungi as if she were trying, desperately, to melt away into the wood. And, every now and then, she caught a glimpse of Amberley through the trees. It was about the size of a doll’s house now, but it wasn’t until a full hour later that Carys stopped walking.

  Standing perfectly still for a moment, gazing down at the river below which was a bright emerald with the reflections of the summer trees, she suddenly panicked. Where was she? She felt she’d been out for hours. Only Mungo remained by her side. She’d caught glimpses of the other dogs every so often. They were never very far away and she was relieved that they hadn’t taken advantage of her inexperience to do a runner. Perhaps, though, she’d better gather them all together.

  Feeling in her pocket for the little whistle, Carys held it to her lips and blew lightly. The result was very impressive. Dolly, the black and white springer, was the first to appear, her legs soaking wet and her belly splattered with mud. Dizzy, Phoebe’s liver and white springer, was next, her ears and coat looking as if it had collected the remains of last year’s autumn leaf fall.

  ‘Where are the other two?’ Carys asked them as if they might tell her.

  Then, with a sudden crash from the undergrowth as if a wild boar were about to charge, Foxy surfaced, golden but dishevelled and, thankfully, Badger followed closely behind, looking thoroughly non-plussed by everything. Carys was thankful for small mercies. She would have hated to have lost one of Richard’s precious dogs on her first walk but she didn’t want to count her blessings too soon: they still had the walk back to go.

  And she really did intend to go straight back to the house but, on the way down the hill, the sky darkened and great fat raindrops fell from the heavens. Was it worth running the rest of the way, risking a soaking? Carys decided it wasn’t and sheltered as best as she could under the canopy of the oaks at the edge of the wood, the dogs happy to sniff and poke their noses into the foliage for a while. She didn’t time the shower but, once it was over, she caught sight of a path which ran along the edge of the wood away from the house and c
ouldn’t resist finding out where it went.

  ‘Come on, dogs,’ she called and they instantly ran on ahead of her, delighted with their extended walk.

  It wasn’t long before Carys saw a tiny cottage. Built from the same mellow gold stone that Amberley was built from, it looked like something from a fairytale and Carys was instantly captivated. Even more exciting, it looked lived in. She saw a pair of candy-striped curtains in the window and the front door, painted a sunny yellow, was wide open.

  Should she? This was, after all, private property. But, then again, wasn’t it her role to find out about the estate and introduce herself? Or was that just a new excuse for her incurable nosiness? Louise had already teased her, saying she’d only married Richard so that she could have a good nose around the private quarters of Amberley Court.

  She was just about to do the decent thing and head back when she heard the unmistakable crackle of a fire from behind the cottage. As she ventured round the back, the heat hit her and she smiled. Here was a chance to warm up a bit, maybe even dry off a little.

  Branches snapped in the depths of the fire and ash butterflies floated down from the air, twisting and turning before disappearing into nothing on the ground. What was it about fires that was so mesmeric? Carys became so completely absorbed by the movement of the flames which seemed to have survived the recent downpour that the sudden interruption of a voice startled her.

  ‘Can I help you?’ a voice, filled with the softened syllables of the Cuthland countryside, asked.

  Carys turned and came face to face with a stout man wearing green from head to foot.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Carys said automatically, knowing that she had trespassed even though she was now part of the family that owned the estate.

  ‘My lady?’ the green man asked.

  ‘Carys,’ she said, ‘please.’ She stepped forward and extended her hand which was taken and shaken with alacrity.