‘Have you brought news? Why did you not say so?’ She turned and headed for the nearest stairs up towards the terraced garden. ‘I’ll go and …’
But she’d only taken two steps when she tripped on the hem of her long skirt, which must have become wet while she knelt by the side of the lake and was therefore longer and heavier than usual. She stumbled.
‘Mistress? Are you all right?’
The man’s hand shot out and once again he steadied her. Arabella glared at him and pulled her arm out of his grip. ‘I can manage. Thank you.’
It wasn’t like her to trip on her own skirts, but the man’s presumption that she’d been careless made her cross. She was never careless. Not to mention suicidal. She was made of sterner stuff and so far the horrors of this war hadn’t daunted her spirits. Who was he anyway? She’d never seen him before.
As if he’d heard her unspoken thought, he belatedly remembered his manners and swept off his hat as he bowed to her. ‘Rhys Cadell, at your service, mistress. May I escort you back inside? Please?’ He indicated the stairs she’d been heading for with a flick of his hand and a lift of his eyebrows. They were uncommonly fine eyebrows, perfectly shaped and not too thick, above a pair of sharp, moss-green eyes surrounded by dark lashes.
She felt her cheeks heat up. What was she doing admiring the man’s eyes? She’d only come outside for a little while to be alone, something that was almost impossible inside a castle crammed full of people seeking sanctuary from this wretched war. Perhaps she’d stayed too long? She squinted again at the setting sun and realised she had.
‘I thank you, but I can find my own way. I will go inside directly.’ She nodded a cool dismissal, but the man didn’t budge. He merely held out a hand to help her up the nearby steps and with some reluctance she took it. It seemed churlish not to, but the moment her fingers touched his, she regretted it as it felt as though a current reverberated through her all the way down to her toes. What madness was this?
The green eyes, when she made the mistake of looking into them again, seemed to be glinting with amusement. Was he aware of the effect his touch had on her? She sincerely hoped not. As soon as she’d reached the top of the stairs, she let go of him. ‘Thank you.’
She was about to walk away, when he spoke just behind her. ‘May I know your name, mistress? I am new to this place so a friendly face would be welcome.’
Arabella hesitated, but it would be impolite to refuse to reply. ‘Arabella Dauncey.’ She gave him a quick curtsey and almost added ‘unmarried ward of the Marquis of Worcester’ but stopped herself just in time. Why would he need to know that?
‘A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mistress Dauncey.’
She nodded, not wanting to acknowledge that it had been a pleasure meeting him too. Then something he’d said registered belatedly. ‘You have just arrived, you said? How can that be? I thought they weren’t letting anyone in now.’ The marquis had given orders that no one else was to be admitted, as the castle was full to bursting.
He smiled and shook his head. ‘Now that would be telling, mistress. And it’s not my secret to share.’
Arabella fought to quell her curiosity, which was well and truly piqued now, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. ‘I see,’ she managed to say calmly. ‘Well, I hope your “secret” will help us all. We could certainly use a few miracles around here. Good day to you, sir.’
Before he could say anything else to upset her equilibrium, she swept off towards the Bowling Green and the bridge to the South Gate. But although she didn’t look back, she felt his gaze between her shoulder blades until she reached the safety of the vaulted entrance.
Who was he? And why should it matter to her?
Chapter Two
Raglan Castle, 21st May 2016
Tess came to when someone bumped into her shoulder on the way down the wooden staircase leading to the moat. She seemed to have passed out – or fallen asleep? – with her head leaning against the railing and now had a crick in her neck. The woman trying to get past sent her a glare, as if it was a crime to sit on Welsh National Trust stairs and doze off, but Tess ignored her. She was too busy wondering why she’d had such a strange – and very vivid – dream or hallucination and how she came to be sitting here when the last she remembered she’d been over by the moat.
No, by a lake? But there wasn’t one here.
She stood up slowly and rubbed her neck with one hand. Glancing around, she could see that she was alone apart from Angry Woman. There were no handsome re-enactors in sight; in fact, no men at all. Had she dreamed him up? But he’d seemed so real. And what about the lake? She could see the greedy fish quite clearly in her mind.
No, impossible.
She shook her head. ‘Get a grip,’ she muttered, but inside her mind more images of the man kept playing, like an old reel of film, with snatches of conversation. The odd word here and there made sense – Rhys, news, secret … Had he told her his name before she passed out? She didn’t think so. But he could have done. And why would he give her news or talk of secrets?
It was all so strange and she was gripped by a niggling sense of worry, an anxiety totally unlike the kind she’d been afflicted with in the months following Giles’s death. This was different, more real somehow, as though there was something menacing she needed to be wary of. True fear. Her own worries about her future and what she should do with her life seemed very trivial in comparison.
What the heck was going on? What was there to be afraid of? She looked around again. Nothing. It was as peaceful a scene as you could possibly wish for. No dangers of any kind.
‘You’re seriously cracking up,’ she murmured to herself and dusted off the back of her jeans before heading for the exit.
‘Excuse me, but do you have re-enactors on site to give visitors a more authentic experience of the castle?’ she asked the lady at the till by the entrance.
‘Not today, no. Later during the summer, maybe. Too few visitors to make it worthwhile this time of year.’
‘You’re sure? Only I thought I saw a man in period costume …’ Tess trailed off and felt her cheeks heat up as the woman sent her a puzzled gaze.
‘I haven’t seen anyone like that, I promise. He would have had to get past me to go in.’
‘Right, well, er, thank you.’ Tess hesitated, then dared one more question. ‘I’m sorry, but is there a lake near here?’
‘No, not unless you count the moat. There used to be lakes at the back of the castle in the ornamental gardens. They’re long gone though. Why do you ask?’
‘Oh, no reason. Just curious.’
Tess left quickly, too embarrassed to even look at any of the souvenirs for sale. Seeing the crash site again had obviously messed with her brain. It was time to go home and face the empty house and the bitter memories. Time for more action. Maybe ditch the antidepressants completely, even though she’d already cut them down to an absolute minimum? They weren’t helping, just numbing her thought processes. And giving her hallucinations?
Tess drove her little Mini carefully along the main roads, trying not to imagine what could so easily happen if you lost control of your car the way Giles had done. But she wasn’t drunk, it was still light and there wasn’t a raindrop in sight. No reason why she should have an accident.
She bumped along the smaller, winding roads towards Merrick Court and through the impressive wrought-iron gates, which were open. Bryn Jones, the old gardener, usually closed them before going home for the day, so he must still be around somewhere. Probably in his potting shed or in the greenhouse. The thought was comforting; Tess wasn’t entirely alone. And he lived just down the road, in his small, neat cottage. Not far at all.
As she turned into the stable yard, she noticed there was another car parked where Giles’s Porsche had always stood. It was also a Porsche, a Cayenne, the large Chelsea tractor variety, and Tess knew only too well to whom it belonged – her sister-in-law. She groaned out loud. ‘Oh, hell! That’s all I nee
d.’
Taking a deep breath, she got out of her car, then made her way to the kitchen entrance. Her visitors were sitting on the back steps; Rosie and her two teenage kids – Louis and Emilia.
At the sight, it was as though a black cloud materialised around them, reaching into Tess’s brain. She tried to shake off the anger that began to swirl inside her, but only partly succeeded. Why did Rosie keep visiting? When Giles was alive they never saw his sister from one Christmas to the next. Now she’d suddenly decided she had to keep an eye on the place and appeared at Merrick Court at regular intervals. She didn’t even phone to ask if it was convenient, but then Rosie never thought about anyone’s feelings apart from her own.
‘There you are, Therese! Where have you been, for goodness’ sake? We were starting to think you were never coming home,’ Rosie began as soon as Tess was within earshot. ‘I tried to call your mobile, but you didn’t pick up.’
Tess resisted the urge to say, ‘Lovely to see you too,’ in a sarcastic tone of voice, and ignored the use of her full name, which Rosie knew she hated.
‘I’ve been out.’ Tess knew that made her sound like a defiant teenager, but really, did she have to account for her every move to Rosie? She had a life. Or she was supposed to have one, anyway.
‘Well, we’ve waited ages! Actually, I think it would be a good idea if you gave me a key. You know, just in case.’
‘In case of what? I lock myself out? Don’t worry, I have that covered.’ Tess walked past Rosie and up the steps, fishing out the keys from her back pocket. ‘Hi, Louis, Emilia.’ She managed a small smile for her nephew and niece by marriage, who had both stood up.
‘Hey, Tess. You okay?’ Louis, the only person in that family Tess actually liked, came and put his arms round her for an awkward teenage boy kind of hug. At nearly eighteen, he was starting to get over the teen stage, while his fifteen-year-old sister was in the very worst phase. ‘Bet it’s all still a bit tough, huh?’
‘Yeah.’ She hugged him back briefly. He was a nice kid, down to earth and not stuck up like his mother and sister. She noticed Emilia’s face remained passive and the girl didn’t look like she’d been mourning her uncle. Emilia was only ever concerned with herself, a spoiled little princess.
‘Come on in.’ Tess unlocked the door and didn’t wait to see if they followed her into the large old-fashioned kitchen. It was like something out of a National Trust brochure and most people gawped when they saw it for the first time – faded grandeur with a large iron range, massive dresser, copper pots and pans and a black Aga. And scrubbed pine everywhere, together with enough blue and white porcelain for a battalion of servants, even though they were long gone, just like the money needed to pay for them. ‘Are you staying the night?’ she asked, trying to dredge up some politeness when really she wanted nothing more than to tell them to go away and leave her alone.
‘Of course we are. It’s a three-hour drive back to London and you know I don’t like driving in the dark.’ Rosie pulled the door shut with some force.
Tess closed her eyes for a moment, wishing she hadn’t had to deal with Rosie today. Or any day, for that matter. ‘Well, you can have your usual rooms but you’ll have to make the beds up yourselves. I’m a bit tired. I’m sure you’ll understand …’
‘Don’t you have servants for that? We have a Filipina maid and she does everything,’ Emilia piped up at last, while frowning at her iPhone. ‘And why doesn’t this work here? It’s like we’re in Outer Mongolia or something.’
Tess ignored the first part of the girl’s sentence as Emilia knew very well there were no servants at Merrick Court. ‘You need to log onto the Wi-Fi. It’s the only way you’ll be able to communicate with the outside world from here. We’re in a sort of black hole, mobile-wise, remember?’
‘Well, what’s the password?’ Emilia was stabbing furiously at the little keypad on her phone.
‘Please?’ Tess couldn’t resist. The girl’s attitude was just the final straw.
‘What?’ Emilia looked up and focused on her for a moment.
‘She means they should teach you some manners at your school,’ Louis put in, rolling his eyes. ‘As in, what’s the password, please.’
‘Shut up, Louis.’ Emilia glared at her brother, then at Tess, who decided the girl was too self-absorbed to even understand irony.
‘It’s Merrick123,’ she said. ‘I’m going to heat up some soup and bread rolls – will that do for dinner? I’m sorry but I wasn’t really expecting guests.’
Rosie sighed. ‘I remember when this kitchen was always filled with cooking smells and the larder overflowing, just in case. People were forever visiting Mama and Papa, dropping in on the spur of the moment, so one had to be prepared.’
Tess heard the implied criticism but ignored it. ‘Well, your parents could probably afford to feed the five thousand. I can’t.’ She headed for the walk-in larder, which was bigger than most normal people’s kitchens.
‘Soup sounds great to me,’ Louis said. ‘I’ll help you. Why don’t you and Em sort out the beds, Mum?’
‘Yes, I suppose.’
‘Don’t call me Em! How many times do I have to tell you? It’s Emilia, or Milla to my friends, so that’s not you, obviously.’ Emilia was looking daggers at her brother again and her mother wisely towed her towards the hall and upstairs, averting the inevitable row.
‘Milla?’ Louis trailed after Tess while imitating his sister’s snooty voice. ‘How pretentious can you get? God, she’s so annoying.’
Tess put an arm round his shoulders and gave him another quick hug. ‘Never mind. Siblings are always irritating. You’ve met mine, haven’t you? Sarah would beat Emilia hands down in any annoying sister contest, trust me.’
Louis smiled, although Tess noticed the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. ‘Hey, are you okay yourself?’ she asked, while busying herself heating up soup. Was he still mourning his uncle? Shaken by the suddenness of it all? She hadn’t seen the boy for a few months and although they exchanged the occasional email, that didn’t tell her much.
‘I’m fine. Lots of stupid exams coming up.’ Louis shrugged.
‘Oh, poor you, that’s horrid.’ Tess threw a packet of frozen bread rolls to him. ‘Here, catch and put those in the Aga, will you, please?’
‘Yup, sure.’ As if continuing their earlier conversation, he added, ‘It was all a bit of a shock, wasn’t it? Uncle Giles, I mean. Even though it was a while ago now, I keep thinking about it and it kind of freaks me out, the way these things can happen so suddenly. It’s like … my mind can’t let it go.’
Tess nodded. ‘Yes, me too.’ She knew only too well that endlessly thinking about the ‘what ifs’ could really drag you down. Lately she’d been doing better on that front though.
‘Aren’t you scared, living here alone?’
‘No, not really.’ She had been frightened at first, jumping at every shadow, but that was when she’d gone to the doctor and been prescribed medication. The antidepressants deadened most feelings and she’d stopped caring. She added jokingly, ‘Anyway, if the resident ghosts had wanted to get me, surely they would have done so by now?’
Louis cracked a small smile. ‘I guess. Well, you don’t have to stay much longer now – I hear the solicitors have finally found the heir.’
‘Yes, although I haven’t been told when he’s coming.’
Merrick Court and the title that went with it – Earl of Merrick – were entailed in the male line. The solicitor had explained it all to Tess after Giles’s funeral, and what it meant in practical terms was that she couldn’t inherit anything other than the contents of the house, plus Giles’s personal possessions. Everything else had to go to the closest male relative, descended in a straight line from father to son. Daughters apparently counted for nothing, so Louis couldn’t inherit either. It was all very complicated.
It had taken the lawyers a while to locate the heir, a man who was descended from a younger son of Giles’s great-great-grand
father or something, but Tess had been told just a few days earlier that he’d been abroad but had now been in touch. While the solicitors had been sorting things out, she’d stayed on at the house as a sort of custodian.
Louis was quiet for a while then said, hesitantly. ‘Well, if you need support when he turns up, just say, okay? I could always come on a weekend.’
‘Thanks, that’s really sweet of you, but I’m sure it’ll be fine.’ She didn’t anticipate any trouble with the heir. It was more a question of getting organised, selling off her part of the inheritance – the contents of the house – and finalising her plans for the future. She didn’t need help with that.
Rosie and Emilia eventually came back to the kitchen and they all sat down to eat.
‘Eeuuw, what is this?’ Emilia muttered, wrinkling her nose.
Tess pretended she hadn’t heard and instead looked at Rosie. ‘So what brings you here? Again.’
Rosie’s eyebrows rose in affront. ‘Do I need an excuse to visit my childhood home? And there’s so much to be done.’
‘Done?’
Rosie waved her spoon around, gesturing towards the rest of the house. ‘Yes, everything that needs sorting before you move out and—’
‘I’m perfectly capable of arranging things myself, you know.’ Tess gave Rosie a hard stare. ‘I’m not an imbecile.’
Rosie flushed. ‘I never said you were. It’s just, you’ve been a bit down and we thought we’d help. Sorting out old stuff to take to charity, that kind of thing.’
Interfering, more like, and trying to appropriate things for yourself. But Tess didn’t say that out loud. Rosie seemed to think that because some things at Merrick Court had sentimental value to her, Tess would let her have them for free ‘as a memento’. She’d tried that tack a few times already, but Tess had had enough. If Rosie wanted something, she could pay for it. She had a rich husband after all.
The Velvet Cloak of Moonlight Page 2
