The Prisoner of Silverwood Castle

by Marie Treanor

  Angelika von Jurgensdorf, resplendent if carelessly recognisable in a pale green domino with the hood down, all but dropped a glass of champagne into my hand.

  “Who,” she demanded with blatant curiosity, “was that?”

  “I have no idea,” I said truthfully.

  “I knew it was you,” she said. “You forgot to speak French.”

  “Zut,” I said with annoyance.

  She laughed. “Never mind, I won’t tell. Where did you leave your partner?”

  I sniffed. “He left me, and I’ve no idea. Why?”

  “Because I want to dance with him, of course. I spoke to him on the terrace before your little…contretemps. He intrigued me.” She cast me a sideways glance. “As apparently he did you.”

  I gave her a distracted smile. I had no witty rejoinders, just a jumble of conjectures and half-understood desires that mostly revolved around his earth-shaking kiss.

  “It’s not everyone who’d dare interfere with the prince,” she observed.

  “Maybe he didn’t know the prince,” I suggested.

  “Or maybe he’s that rare commodity, an actual hero.”

  I thought, maybe he was.

  Angelika said, “I’m going to be bold and ask him to dance with me.”

  “Good luck,” I said as she walked away around the dancers.

  At the foot of the staircase, the duke was in deep conversation with another man. I wondered if they were discussing my prisoner, the discovery of his escape, perhaps… What would happen to him when he went back? More mistreatment? Punishment for his escape?

  My stomach clenched with distress. To ease it, I began to walk. I seemed to have lost interest in being a Renaissance beauty in search of revenge. Somehow, in the brief time I’d spent with the prisoner Kasimir, I’d discovered I rather liked being myself.

  At supper, I again encountered Bernhard von Gerritzen. “Herr Blue Domino was carried discreetly to bed,” he murmured. “We both had a lucky escape, between you and me.”

  “Who was the man who sent him away?” I asked.

  Von Gerritzen regarded me. “You’d know better than I. You were dancing with him.”

  “Jealousy, my pet?” Angelika murmured as she brushed past both of us.

  “Yes,” von Gerritzen said to her retreating back. Before his gaze came back to me, I laughed and returned to my partner of the hour. It was almost time for the unmasking.

  * * * * *

  I took my dutiful place behind Augusta as we all gathered in a big circle for the unmasking. There were cries of delight and applause when the ducal couple unmasked, and then the rest of us did too, throwing down our hoods, if they were still up in the warmth of the ballroom, and untying the mask strings.

  Almost defiantly, I stuffed my mask in the hidden pocket of my gown and retrieved my spectacles, cramming them onto my nose. If I’d been wearing them, I wondered if I’d have recognized the prisoner earlier. After all, the shape of his face, his intense blue eyes, and the line of his mouth and chin were very distinctive. But I’d never expected to see him here.

  I never expected to be solicited for the closing dance of the evening either, but I was. In Silberwald, being the duchess’s sister obviously meant more than merely being the Earl of Alnwick’s.

  * * * * *

  How did he know I dreamed of him?

  Bizarrely, the thought came to me when I was asleep and dreaming of Kasimir once more. It was one of those lucid dreams where you seem actually able to control it, to make what you want happen. I didn’t know if I’d caused him to climb in through my bedroom window, masked as he’d been at the ball, and stand by the bed gazing down at me, but since I hung in that peculiar place between consciousness and unconsciousness, I knew I could control things from here.

  So I reached out and took his hand, drawing him onto the bed beside me. I smiled at him. Slowly, he loosened the string on his mask, revealing the fine, handsome features that had made such an impression upon me. He smiled back at me, a dangerous, wolfish kind of smile that took me by surprise because I hadn’t meant him to smile like that. I hadn’t known he could. It caused a little frisson of fear, even as I responded with a surge of fierce emotion I recognized as lust. I didn’t trust that smile, but it attracted me as nothing and no one ever had.

  And it was only a dream, so I pushed myself up on the bed and put my arms around his neck, meaning to kiss him as I had at the ball. Only his fierce, fathomless eyes held me back. It was as if I were seeing him for the first time, piercing the gentle if eccentric surface to the savagery and cruelty beneath.

  What have I done? I didn’t mean to think that, or to feel such dismay and remorse for unleashing a criminal so dangerous that his very presence was kept secret. There had always been a reason for that but I, naive and romantic, had chosen to ignore the signs, to imagine that because I liked his handsome face, because he danced with me and kissed me, I knew better. And now I would pay. We’d all pay, because the man with those violent eyes, dark and pitiless, was capable of anything.

  His smile faded. He must have seen the understanding and the fear dawn in my face. His lips pulled back in a snarl; he threw back his head and howled, the same blood-curdling, inhuman cry I’d heard coming from his cell. Sheer terror pierced my heart. I dropped my arms, scrambling back from him. He lunged, and the world went black.

  I opened my eyes to early morning light, brighter than it had been in my dream. My heart still hammered in my breast, the echo of intense desire mingled with fear of the unknown, of him. Of doing the wrong thing. And yet I was very aware that in some deep, barely understood part of me, this dark, violent Kasimir had thrilled as well as frightened me.

  But however vivid the image that clung, it had only been a dream, lucid or otherwise. I hadn’t seen a ghost. And I hadn’t drunk the tea last night. We’d all stumbled off to bed after the ball.

  But how had Kasimir known I’d dreamed of him before? The unanswerable question that had come to me at the start of this dream was now echoing around my mind so loudly, I could have spoken the words for anyone to hear.

  My head was full of the masquerade ball in general and the prisoner Kasimir in particular. Nor could I quite understand why, having escaped this far, he didn’t just run for it. Colonel Friedrich had claimed to know nothing of any prisoners, so presumably his men didn’t either. Kasimir would have got out. Instead he’d chosen to go back to his prison, his chains.

  And the cry in my dream. Maybe that was what had wakened me, what had distorted my mind’s image of him. It had been real. I threw myself up into a sitting position, staring at the door of my room, listening intently. Had he been punished for escaping? Was that what I’d heard? What were they doing to him?

  I clutched my head in my hands to stop myself throwing off the bedclothes and rushing along corridors in my night gown. Forcing myself, I tried to think rationally. A dream changed nothing. Beyond the fact that the prisoner Kasimir was a real person, I still had no idea what was going on.

  Taking a deep breath, I detached my fingers from my hair and reached for my book instead. Jane Eyre might, I hoped, dispel the terrible sound of his cry.

  But I read for only ten minutes or so before restlessly setting the book aside. I rose and washed in last night’s cold water and dressed before I looked at my watch. It was still too early to join Augusta for breakfast, particularly after a late night. My heart beat faster as once more I contemplated creeping along to the prisoner’s cell instead.

  How did you know I’d dreamed of you? Did he know too what had happened in that dream? The slow, sweet build of sensual desires, related and yet so different to the much more forceful, real feelings generated by last night’s kiss. I couldn’t ask him questions about those things…could I?

  Not yet. Instead, I made my way to Augusta’s apartments anyway. It struck me I’d quite like to speak to her withou
t the Baroness von Gratz’s ubiquitous presence. And indeed, only a bustling chambermaid and a bleary-eyed Button greeted me.

  “Good ball, m’lady?” Button asked me, yawning.

  “Yes, thank you, it was fun. Is my sister awake?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Oh dear.” I lowered my voice. “Is the duke with her?”

  Button snorted. “Lord, no.”

  Intrigued, I almost lowered myself to asking if he never stayed, but fortunately, my sense of decorum got the better of me and I bit my tongue. I went into Augusta’s room, and found her with her head buried in the pillow.

  “Bring me tea, Button,” she moaned.

  I sat on the end of her bed. “It’s me, and I think she’s gone to get you some. Did you—er—drink the tea last night?”

  “What?” She heaved herself up on her elbow and peered at me. “Guin? Why are you up at this ungodly hour? Talking about last night’s tea!”

  “It must be very strong,” I observed. “When I drink it, I have lots of very strange dreams. When I don’t, like last night, I seem to sleep much better. I didn’t wake until after dawn today.” On the other hand, I had still dreamed…

  “Coincidence,” Augusta said impatiently.

  “Maybe.” I curled my fingers around the coverlet. “Tell me, Augusta, what do you think of your brother-in-law, Prince Heribert?”

  “Why, do you like him?” Augusta asked with a hint of smugness. “He likes you.”

  “No, I don’t think I do. To be frank, I wondered if I should speak to the duke about him. He behaved quite badly last night.”

  Augusta glanced at the door and sat up. “I believe he does when he drinks more than two glasses. Normally, he’s very good, I’m told. Would you like such a match? If you could keep him on a short leash.”

  I stared at her. “No, I would not. I can’t believe the duke wants it either.”

  “Well, no, he doesn’t like the idea at all,” Augusta admitted. “But I will promote it for you with him if you want me to.”

  “I don’t! Gussie, if you’re afraid of being lonely, arrange a rota of visits from Alnwick and our sisters. Oh and talking of sisters, did you send my letter to Caroline?”

  “Yes, I did. I readdressed it because she isn’t in England. She’s in France—or was it Switzerland? Anyway, I sent it to the correct hotel. If she’s left, it will follow her and catch her eventually. Why, did you invite her here?”

  “Not really, though you might consider it. I just wanted to ask her about a friend of hers.”

  “Where’s the wretched tea?” Augusta grumbled. “Guin, go and chase it up for me!”

  I sighed and stood up to obey. I was just crossing the living room towards the servants’ door when I heard low voices coming from the dining room, speaking in rapid German. The duke and Baroness von Gratz. My ear was much more attuned now, and I could pick up most of what Leopold was saying.

  “…think Dieter was just careless again. When he’s chained, he often leaves the doors unlocked.”

  At the word chains, I confess I stopped in my tracks, my heart beating harder. The dining room door stood ajar, hiding the occupants. I stared at it and simply listened. Although the number of hes in the duke’s words was a little confusing,

  “But he can’t have been chained in this case!” That was the baroness, so low that I had to strain my ears, and yet her voice was intense with suppressed anger. “Which is beyond careless. Highness, we need to bring someone else in to—”

  “I don’t want anyone else involved in this,” the duke interrupted. “Dieter simply failed to lock the manacles in place properly. He swears it won’t happen again.”

  “I suppose he did find his prisoner again very quickly,” the baroness said grudgingly. “The boy will just have been drawn to the fresh air, or perhaps to the music. And there was no chance of him getting into the main part of the castle grounds. Once the court moves on, he can be exercised as before. But with or without the court in residence, we can’t have him running loose about the castle. Or the countryside. That mustn’t happen again.”

  “Of course not,” the duke said. He seemed to hesitate, then: “I’ve been thinking of a more permanent solution.”

  The baroness gave an unexpected noise of distress, and the duke continued quickly. “You needn’t be involved. Your hands will be clean.”

  I heard a slapping sound, as if the baroness had clapped her hands over her ears. My blood ran cold. Was the duke talking about killing his prisoner?

  “There is no point after all these years,” the baroness all but hissed. “We chose this path and must stick to it. If you’ll allow no one else to be involved, have man keep a closer eye on Dieter. That’s all you need do. The duchess will be a good wife to you, even if she ever learns about this, and the sister…”

  I jumped physically and scurried silently across the carpet, past the dining room door to the servants’ area. The duchess’s words “…will be gone soon enough,” followed me.

  I barely remembered what I wanted of Button and the maid, who already had a pot of tea prepared. I trailed out into the sitting room again, deep in anxious thought. Fortunately, there was no sign of the duke, and it sounded as if the baroness was with Augusta in her bedroom.

  Was my life in danger, too? And whatever it was Augusta was expected to turn a blind eye to, would she really accept my murder without a pang?

  But no, I was being foolish and melodramatic. They must simply have been talking of my going home. After all, they’d never wanted me here. Augusta had sprung this on them in her sudden panic at being alone among strangers. And so they’d given me a room most earl’s daughters would have considered an affront; they were isolating me from Augusta where they could, and giving me as little respect as possible. I was to go home from unhappiness because I couldn’t be trusted to keep their secret. Which was…

  The prisoner. Why was he so important, and why was he being kept here? Whatever the answer, the mysteries surrounding him had become urgent. The thrills had turned to fear, just as in my dream. Although he’d gone back to his prison voluntarily, I needed to warn him that the duke was now threatening his life.

  * * * * *

  More than an hour passed before I felt able to sneak away to the prisoner’s cell. Fortunately, since I would have found it difficult to be civil, the duke, who reappeared as we sat down for breakfast, stayed in the apartments only long enough to wish his wife good morning and remind her that we were leaving the following day for Rundberg.

  Which I had forgotten all about. Our departure meant I had to see Kasimir today. And probably Colonel Friedrich, too. Unless there was some pretext I could use to stay behind? But no, Augusta would want me to see her acclaimed as duchess.

  I pulled myself together, hiding my impatience by deliberately playing just another role, like my avenging beauty in last night’s masquerade. For this part, I drank coffee and ate breakfast and for the baroness’s benefit, watched my sister ignore me, just as if it wounded me. The baroness clearly hadn’t yet grasped that, for the most part, we had always ignored each other.

  I wondered if it would make any difference to Augusta if she knew the truth about her husband… although I wasn’t perfectly sure what the truth was. Finally, I tried to look disconsolate as I left my sister and returned to my room.

  There, I opened my trunk and pulled some gowns from the wardrobe, spreading them over the bed to make it look as if I’d been busy and only left for a moment. Then, after listening at the door to make sure the corridor was quiet, I slipped outside and made my by now familiar way to the old part of the castle and the disused, empty hall.

  From there, just like yesterday, I could hear someone moving above me.

  His keeper, presumably the Dieter I’d heard the duke mention, knew of his escape last night and the duke’s displeasure, so I imagined much more car
e would be taken with the prisoner’s security. I also had to consider the man the baroness had mentioned, presumably Dieter’s supervisor, so shadowy that he wasn’t even given a name. His existence bothered me, alarmed me. But this was desperate. Desperate measures were called for.

  I crept up the stairs to see what was happening. The first landing door was closed. Someone was sweeping above me; I could hear the swish of the broom on a wooden floor. It was unlikely to be Kasimir himself, who was probably chained to the wall as usual, but I went on, anyway, warning myself that I had fewer and fewer places to hide.

  Not that it mattered. No one had expressly forbidden me from being here. I could easily plead that I was exploring and had seen nothing and no one. I might even learn more if I were discovered. Surely, the unspeakable Dieter wouldn’t murder me yet? Not without express orders from “the man” or the duke himself…or the baroness, who seemed to wish to do the job herself by means of her stabbing eyes.

  By the time I entered the little room with the table—a different book lay there now, but I barely glanced at it—I could hardly hear the swishing broom for the drumming of my heart. But since the room was empty, I crept up the inner stairs to the first corner and peered upwards.

  The cell door lay open. Someone was indeed sweeping the floor there. My plans grew wild. I could sneak up there and steel the gaoler’s key so that I could let myself in when he’d finished. Or I could barge in and demand he free the prisoner on command of the duke himself.

  Maybe I could hit him with something, I thought with unseemly relish. Though, in fact, it was the duke and the baroness whom I truly wanted to hit.

  I dragged myself back to reality with a jolt of fear, for while my mind wandered, my body had begun to climb on towards the cell. The sweeper had his back to me. But at least I saw that the slit window was too narrow to push him out of. I stepped beyond the door into the shadows where I’d found the little stool the first night I’d been here. In fact, I found it again, jostling my foot against it.

  On impulse, I picked it up with the vague idea I could use it to hit the gaoler unconscious when he emerged from the cell.