The Velvet Cloak of Moonlight

by Christina Courtenay

  The fountain no longer had any water in it but was overgrown with weeds, moss and lichen. Arabella knelt by the far side and took out a small spade from an inner pocket. She used it to prize up one of the paving stones that surrounded the fountain’s rim. It took a bit of jiggling, but she soon managed it. After that, she dug a hole in the soft soil underneath, making sure that she shovelled the surplus soil into a small sack. Once the hole was deep enough, she began to retrieve various small packages from secret pockets on the inside of her skirt, depositing them in the cavity.

  ‘These are all my best jewels,’ Lady Margaret had told her. ‘You’ll be doing us a huge service by hiding these, thus hopefully keeping them safe. Then if we have to flee, we can retrieve them and at least we won’t be destitute on the Continent, like so many others.’

  ‘But why Merrick Court?’ Arabella hadn’t wanted to admit that it was the last place on earth she wanted to return to, but she was sure Lady Margaret knew that anyway.

  ‘Where better? For one thing, it’s your house so no one would think it odd if you were to be seen there. And for another, as it’s now in the hands of the Parliamentarians, they won’t think to look for my property there, will they?’ She’d laughed. ‘Hidden under their very noses, that’s the best possible place.’

  Arabella had to agree, it was ingenious, but it didn’t make her happier about going there.

  When she had put everything in the hole, she put back some of the soil, flattened it and replaced the paving stone exactly as it had been before. To make doubly sure no one would notice what she’d done, she pulled some of the weeds across. Then, after listening for a moment to make sure there was still no one around to surprise her, she repeated the process with another paving stone, slightly further away. This time it was quicker, as she only needed a very small hole for the necklace Lady Margaret had given her. For some reason, she didn’t want it in the same place as the rest of the jewellery. Superstition, perhaps? She tore off a piece of her shift to wrap it in, even though the soil wouldn’t harm it anyway.

  ‘Oh, Mama, please watch over these treasures for me,’ Arabella whispered, hoping her mother’s spirit was somewhere nearby. There was no reply, of course, but she heard a breeze ripple through some nearby leaves and took that as a good sign.

  When she was done hiding the cross, she made certain there was no sign of her having been here and once over the wall, she disposed of the surplus soil before hurrying back towards the pony. Now all she had to do was to return to Raglan before dawn.

  Rhys waited behind a thicket, keeping his horse silent by rubbing his ears and patting the soft neck. ‘Shhh, boy, I doubt we’ll have long to wait,’ he soothed in the lowest possible voice, although he had no way of knowing whether he would be kept kicking his heels for hours or minutes.

  In the event, Arabella returned faster than he’d thought and he watched her climb onto her pony again, turning it to ride back towards Raglan. What on earth had she been up to in that garden? He knew well enough to whom it belonged; Huw Howell, a man he’d heard about. There was no doubt as to the man’s allegiance and anyone associated with him was an enemy as far as Rhys was concerned.

  Had she gone there to deliver a message? Report on the castle’s defences and supplies? Such information would be invaluable to the enemy and if that’s what she was doing, she would be putting all the stronghold’s inhabitants at huge risk.

  Rhys swore under his breath.

  But what if it was the other way round and Arabella had been spying on Huw? Rhys decided he’d have to give her the benefit of the doubt for now, but he needed to keep an eye on her in future.

  As before, she kept mainly to small roads and forest tracks, but closer to Raglan she followed a main road for a short way. Rhys kept his distance, trying to stay on the verges where he and his horse were in shadow and the grass muffled any hoof beats. As Arabella rounded a bend, Rhys suddenly heard voices and he pulled his mount to a stop. Now what? Another meeting?

  ‘Stay,’ he muttered to his horse, jumping to the ground. He had trained the stallion to obey such commands and trusted the animal would wait patiently.

  He hurried through the bushes and trees by the side of the road until he had a clear view of what was happening with Arabella. She was still astride her horse, with two men on horseback facing her, although they were edging closer with an obvious view to hemming her in from either side.

  ‘You expect us to believe you’re out for a ride in the middle o’ the night?’ one man was saying. He guffawed. ‘We weren’t born yesterday, you know.’

  The other man joined in the laughter. ‘But we won’t tell a soul, mistress, so long as you go with us. I’m sure we can come to some agreement, eh?’

  Rhys swore again. So not an assignation then. There wasn’t much moonlight but what there was showed him clearly that Arabella was petrified. Her eyes were wide open, her face paler than the moon itself. He clenched his fists, pulling a sharp knife out of his boot. He was good enough to hit one of the men at this distance and at the very least wound him, but that would give the other one the chance to grab Arabella.

  ‘Cat got your tongue? Nothin’ to say for yourself?’

  As the men drew closer, Arabella was galvanised into action. Her hand came up and Rhys was astonished to see her pointing a pistol at the man nearest to her.

  ‘Get away from me or I’ll shoot,’ she hissed, releasing the safety lock with an audible click. ‘And don’t think I can’t do it.’

  The man stopped moving for an instant, but then he laughed again. ‘You can only hit one of us, so either way you can’t win. Now be a good girl and put that down. We’ll treat you right, see if we don’t. There’s no need for this.’ He gestured towards the pistol.

  ‘No! Don’t come any nearer!’

  Rhys had to do something. The men were edging closer once more and Arabella’s gaze flickered from one to the other as if she wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. He put his arm up to muffle his voice and hide his features with his sleeve. ‘Shoot the right one, I’ll deal with the other!’ he shouted, throwing his knife with as much precision and accuracy as he could muster. It lodged deep in the left man’s thigh and he gave a high-pitched squeal of pain and fell off his horse, clutching his leg.

  Rhys ran towards his victim. ‘Shoot, woman!’ he yelled and Arabella pulled the trigger. There was a flash and a report, then the man to her right fell in his turn and landed with a thump. Rhys didn’t look at him yet though. First he slapped the rump of Arabella’s pony so hard it took off at a gallop. Then he bent to deliver an almighty punch to the man he’d thrown his knife at. The wailing stopped and Rhys retrieved his weapon. He doubted the man would die, but he’d be incapacitated for quite a while.

  Glancing at the second man, he saw him struggle to sit up while clutching his side.

  ‘Bitch! I’ll get her! I’ll—’

  Rhys delivered another punch, knocking the man out flat. ‘You’ll do no such thing,’ he muttered. He removed the man’s hand and moved his jacket to one side. There was a bloodstain spreading across his shirt, but it didn’t look like anything vital had been hit. A shame, but then Rhys had to be grateful Arabella had hit the man at all as she clearly wasn’t experienced with weapons.

  He made sure the two men were still unconscious, then went to retrieve his horse. The further away he was when they came to, the better. And he needed to make sure Arabella reached the castle without further incident.

  Blasted woman … If only he knew what she’d been doing.

  Arabella was still feeling a bit shaky, despite having made it back to the castle safely. She’d left the horse where she had found him and slipped in through the small door in the South Gate. The gatekeeper must have been told to look out for her as he let her in without questions. She headed straight for Lady Margaret’s rooms and knocked softly.

  ‘Oh, there you are at last! I’ve been so worried. Is all well?’

  Arabella was enveloped in a lavender-sc
ented embrace and couldn’t help a shiver from running through her. ‘Y-yes, it is now,’ she murmured.

  Lady Margaret held her at arm’s length and studied her in the pale dawn light seeping in through the windows. ‘Now? What happened? Were you attacked? Robbed? My dear, if anything bad has befallen you, I’ll never forgive myself …’

  ‘No. Well, yes. I mean …’ Arabella was having trouble stringing her thoughts together as the delayed shock of what had so nearly occurred set in. She took a deep breath and tried again. ‘I went to … the place you asked me to and performed the task as planned.’ She didn’t want to spell it out just in case anyone was listening. You never knew, there could be spies about. ‘And then …’

  Lady Margaret nodded. ‘Yes, and then …?’

  ‘On the way back, I was accosted by two men. I believe they were slightly in their cups, but they … they wanted me to, er, go with them.’

  Lady Margaret gasped. ‘They forced you? Oh, my dear girl.’

  ‘No, they didn’t succeed, mostly thanks to my protector. I must thank you for arranging that. I thought I was on my own.’

  ‘Protector? You must be mistaken. No one was supposed to know about this venture apart from myself, you and his lordship.’ Lady Margaret frowned. ‘Someone helped you?’

  Arabella nodded. ‘Yes. I held up the pistol and was pointing it at one of the men, telling them to leave me alone, but of course I could only shoot one and they knew it. Before I had time to pull the trigger though, someone incapacitated the man on my left and shouted at me to shoot the other one. So I … I d-did.’

  She couldn’t help the wobble in her voice as she thought about the fact that she’d shot a human being, possibly even killed him. Such violence was foreign to her nature and although it was happening every day all over the country, she had never thought she’d have to do any killing herself. Lady Margaret was made of sterner stuff.

  ‘Good,’ she said. ‘They were probably the enemy. Think no more about it. I’m so relieved you are safe, but I wonder who your saviour was.’

  ‘I have no idea. I didn’t see his face and his voice was muffled.’

  ‘Well, perhaps he was just an enemy of the two who waylaid you. I don’t suppose we’ll ever know. The main thing is that you’re back.’ Lady Margaret put an arm round Arabella’s shoulders and led her towards a truckle bed in a small dressing room. ‘And now you must have some rest. Sleep in here and I’ll make sure you are not disturbed.’

  ‘Thank you, you’re very kind.’

  ‘No, thank you. You have done us a great service and I won’t forget. Neither will the marquis, I promise.’

  Arabella lay down on the soft mattress, still shivering intermittently, but she was so exhausted from the long ride and all the nervous tension she’d expended, she soon felt her eyelids droop.

  Thank the Lord she was safe, at least for the moment.

  Chapter Ten

  Merrick Court, 23rd May 2016

  Tess was tempted to stay in bed the next morning, but now her time at Merrick Court was coming to an end, she needed to be more dynamic. Rosie’s prodding was annoying, but even more irritating was that her sister-in-law was right – it was time to get started on Giles’s papers.

  Giles had used the library as his study and it was a lovely place, lined with old-fashioned bookcases, all glass-fronted and made of polished mahogany. Sitting down behind his desk felt all kinds of wrong, but it had to be done. She needed to put all his papers in order before the new heir took over. Josh. She wondered if he’d come over again today, maybe to look around some more? Well, he could tour the house by himself this time. She had things to do and being with him unsettled her. She didn’t want to speculate as to why that was.

  Taking a deep breath, she decided to start with the desk drawers.

  Giles had never been tidy and Tess was appalled to find all manner of things just crammed in – bills, letters, receipts, old envelopes. With a sigh, she went to find some plastic bin liners and started to go through the bits and pieces one by one. Two hours later she’d reached the final drawer, the bottom right hand one, and found it difficult to open. This proved to be because it contained an absolutely massive old Bible with worn leather covers – it weighed a tonne, as she found when she lifted it out.

  ‘Why on earth did Giles keep this here?’ Tess muttered. He and his relatives weren’t a religious family so it could have just been put on a shelf with all the other books. When she opened it to give the front page a cursory glance, however, she had her answer – there were a lot of handwritten notes; information about family births, deaths and marriages.

  The records only went as far back as the early eighteen-hundreds, which was rather annoying as Tess would have liked to find some mention from the time of the Civil War. Merrick Court wasn’t far from Raglan Castle, as the crow flew, and it would have been perfectly possible – even probable – that there was some connection between the two estates. And having seen the castle and read about its final stand against the Parliamentarian troops, her curiosity was piqued. Were the inhabitants of the Court on the same side as those of Raglan or were they enemies? Royalists or Roundheads?

  Could there even be a link of some sort? That might justify the strange dreams she’d had since visiting. But perhaps it was just that she had somehow connected with a spirit or a person’s soul from there when she was at Raglan. She had no idea if that was even possible, never having been interested in paranormal things.

  ‘Or maybe it’s the antidepressants?’ she whispered. Even though she’d stopped taking them, she ought to go and see her doctor to ask if the medication had any lasting effects, like hallucinations.

  She was about to put the Bible away when some of the bottom leaves folded in on themselves, refusing to lie straight. Tess flipped open the weighty tome again in order to straighten the pages, but gasped when she found why it wasn’t closing properly – someone had carved out a hole inside the back part of the book, going through at least half an inch of pages. It seemed a terrible waste of such a beautiful old tome, but it was a perfect hiding place and nestled inside was a twist of silky material in a faded red colour. She took this out, carefully so as not to damage what looked like very old cloth, and peeled it back to reveal an earring.

  ‘Oh!’ It was small but beautiful. A thick gold hoop with a blue stone shaped like a teardrop hanging from it, also surrounded by gold. As she held it up to the light to admire the pure aqua colour, Tess could see it was an intaglio; an image was carved out of the back of the gemstone, like an indentation. It felt hollow to the touch while from the front the image was clear – a little lion with a crown on its head inside a very ornate letter C.

  She couldn’t resist trying it on. There was a mirror over a nearby marble fireplace and she carefully threaded the earring’s fastening through one of the holes in her left ear. Tess had several on either side, usually just with plain gold hoops in each, so this one complemented them nicely.

  ‘Gorgeous!’ A thrill raced through her and it was almost as though she’d connected with the previous owner of the lovely jewel. One of Giles’s long lost ancestors? No, she was being silly and fanciful. But someone who lived at Merrick Court had worn this and if she wasn’t mistaken it had been a present from a king – either Charles I or II – which made it very special indeed. Why on earth hadn’t Giles ever told her about it or shown it to her? It must have been extremely precious to him if he hadn’t sold it when he was so desperate for money.

  It occurred to her that as there was only one perhaps it was meant for a man? Charles I had worn a pearl earring. Tess had seen it for herself in an exhibition at London’s Victoria & Albert Museum where it was claimed the king had still been wearing it when he went to his execution, a gruesome fact she wasn’t sure she’d wanted to know. So maybe he’d owned this earring as well and given it to whichever one of Giles’s ancestors was around at the time? And then it would have been passed from father to son, which could explain why Giles hadn’t s
hown it to her.

  She’d refused to give him that son.

  Sadness made her lungs constrict and she sank into the nearest armchair. Giles was gone. He would never have children; the son and heir he’d wanted so badly. It wasn’t Tess’s fault as such – as they’d been on the brink of divorce he could easily have had them with someone else – but the fact that the house was now going to a stranger seemed wrong. However nice he may be, Josh obviously had no feeling for his inheritance and he’d be breaking the chain if he sold Merrick Court. Exactly what Giles had been trying to prevent. But Tess had thought there was still plenty of time for him. If it hadn’t been for that stupid accident …

  ‘I’m so sorry it turned out like this, Giles,’ she murmured, hoping he could hear her. ‘You would have found someone else to give you an heir if you hadn’t decided to drive home that night after drinking with your friends.’

  Hopefully Josh would at least take over the burden of continuing the line. Even if he sold the house, he was still the Earl of Merrick and his descendants after him.

  Tess took the earring up to her room for safekeeping, but before putting it in a drawer, she sat on the edge of her bed and stared at the pretty jewel. It felt right, as if it belonged in her hand, and she closed her fingers around it momentarily. She should probably give it to Josh, but as the current Countess of Merrick she was the rightful owner for now and she wasn’t giving it up. Not yet.

  She held it up to the light and admired the aquamarine colour, the exact hue of the water in a warm ocean lagoon. Crowding into her mind came images of other jewels, sapphires, rubies, strings of pearls, a magnificent cross …

  Merrick Cottage, 23rd May 2016

  Josh woke to find that he’d slept round the clock and it was almost lunchtime the next day. He’d been in a deep sleep, but with the weirdest dreams of castles, people in strange clothing, talk of war and horse riding … What was all that about?