He shook his head. Who cared? Jet lag sure did strange things to you. His stomach growled, reminding him he’d missed dinner. Time for a visit to the local pub – he’d treat Bryn to a meal and a pint as a thank you – and never mind the dreams.
Bryn had just returned from a morning’s gardening and was happy to show Josh the way to the Merrick Arms. Situated in the middle of Much Merrick village, it wasn’t a large establishment, but the food was home-cooked and the two of them were soon tucking into some pork sausages and mash.
‘Mmm, great stuff. Haven’t had spuds in ages,’ Josh murmured. He’d been eating the food from so many different cultures during the last six months it was great to just have something familiar.
Returning to the subject they’d been discussing the day before, Josh asked, ‘So Merrick Court’s land, is it rented out?’
‘Yes, to Fred Williams. He’s up at the Home Farm.’ Seeing Josh’s no doubt bewildered expression, Bryn explained. ‘Home Farm means it used to belong to the Court, producing everything they needed back in the day.’
‘Oh, I see. So Mr Williams rents extra land now then?’
‘Yes, for grazing his sheep and bullocks. The Home Farm is quite large, but he wanted to expand his herds and the late Lord Merrick wasn’t interested in farming himself.’
‘What was he like?’ Josh was curious about what kind of husband had caught a woman like Tess.
‘Like? Er, well, fairly easy-going, a bit used to getting his own way, but then people like him always are, eh?’ Bryn smiled. ‘No, he was nice enough, always treated me well.’ He took a sip of his beer. ‘He was a bit older than Lady M, ten years, maybe? Surprised everyone when he upped and married her.’
‘Why?’ Josh could see perfectly well why anyone would want to marry Tess – that wasn’t rocket science. She was quite simply gorgeous.
‘Oh, you know how these toffs are, they think things like what family you’re from is important. Lady M wasn’t one of them. She was just an ordinary girl.’ Bryn lowered his voice. ‘Between you and me, I don’t think Miss Rosie ever took to her. A bit of a stuck-up one, she is.’ Bryn winked. ‘But you never heard that from me.’
Josh smiled. ‘Heard what?’ But Bryn had given him food for thought. ‘So I’m guessing that’s why Mrs Edmonton looked at me as if I was something the cat had dragged in.’
‘Did she? Oh dear.’ Bryn shook his head as if he despaired of the woman. ‘Well, I will say this for her, she’s very keen on preserving the family’s inheritance and all that. She would’ve made a much better master of the house than her brother ever did. Don’t get me wrong, he was proud of it all, but she’d have been more careful in looking after it.’
‘I suppose you really do think I’m nuts for wanting to sell?’ Josh could hear the unspoken words loud and clear.
Bryn looked away. ‘No, no, it’s up to you. Doesn’t suit everyone and you obviously weren’t brought up to expect it.’
No, but Josh had been raised to inherit his father’s property, and although he’d never quite understood that obsession with passing it on to his heirs, maybe it wasn’t so different from Merrick Court after all? It was the history of it, the fact that so many generations of the family had owned it before him. At least, that’s what his father had always gone on about.
But Josh didn’t want the bloody sheep station. No way. Not because he didn’t like sheep farming, but simply because it had been his father’s. Miserable old codger …
The last day, before leaving his father’s former property for good, he’d shouted, ‘Bastard!’ hoping Robert’s spirit could hear him, although he’d said as much to his old man face-to-face the last time he saw him alive.
Glancing towards the wrap-around porch that surrounded the homestead, he thought he’d seen movement on the old bench to the left of the front door. The one where Robert had always sat of an evening with a beer in his hand. The hazy outline of a human shape, undulating slightly in the afternoon heat? Josh had narrowed his eyes and stared intently, then smiled. ‘So you heard me, eh? Good.’
The shadow had stirred restlessly and Josh didn’t doubt it was Robert, but the old man was powerless now. Josh could feel it and it was clear the spirit understood that too, hence the agitation. ‘I hope you’re sent on your way to hell soon,’ had been his parting shot to Robert’s shadowy form. Or maybe having to watch his only son abandon the land he’d loved so much was Robert’s own personal hell? The perfect punishment.
His mind returned to the present. Agitated ghosts or not, he certainly wasn’t going back there. But did that mean he ought to hang onto this new inheritance instead? He was starting to feel torn.
‘Why don’t you stay yere a while, get a feel for the place, like?’ Bryn suggested, as if he’d picked up on Josh’s confusion. ‘You’re very welcome to my guest room for as long as you want. I’m not expecting any other visitors. If you ask me, you’re making a very big decision in a hurry. That’s never a good thing in my experience.’
Josh nodded. Bryn was right. ‘Are you sure? I can always rent somewhere for a few weeks. I’m not short of funds.’
‘No, it’ll be nice to have the company. I get a bit lonely at times.’
‘Thank you, I will then, but I insist on paying you rent. And if I sell the estate, I’ll make it a condition that you get to stay in that cottage for the rest of your life. Deal?’
Bryn’s weather-beaten features split into a huge grin. ‘Sounds more than fair to me.’ He stuck out his hand to shake. ‘You have yourself a deal, boy.’
Merrick Court, 24th May 2016
Tess had had another look at the earring before going to bed the night before and woke to find that she’d fallen asleep clutching the little jewel so hard it had left a mark on her palm. A perfect imprint of the lion and crown motif. She had the ridiculous notion she’d been branded somehow.
‘Idiot,’ she muttered to herself.
But she was feeling unsettled as she’d had disturbing dreams. Raglan Castle had featured, she was sure of it, although there had only been shadowy outlines of the towers in darkness. They felt familiar, safe, and yet frightening at the same time – love and menace combined in a way that made her feel trapped. Why was she dreaming about it? She should never have gone there. The place had obviously cast some sort of spell over her.
She decided that perhaps if she found out a bit more about the castle the dreams would stop? What she needed was facts.
She dressed quickly and headed down to the library. Although she’d gone through most of Giles’s effects now, there was still an old cupboard left. It was one of her favourite pieces of furniture in the house as it was a large chinoiserie style cabinet with lots of little drawers, shelves and pigeonholes. It occurred to her that it might have secret drawers too – didn’t old furniture often have that? But her questing fingers didn’t trigger any opening mechanisms and unfortunately most of the drawers proved to be empty.
‘Damn!’
She’d so been hoping to find something exciting, but the cupboard only contained one thing – a rusty metal box with a lock. Eventually she located the key for it on a bunch which had been kept in Giles’s desk drawer. She lifted out a pile of documents, taking care not to damage them in any way, and then tried to decipher the old-fashioned swirly handwriting on the uppermost sheet. It took a while for her eyes to get used to it, but once she figured out what each letter looked like, they began to come together into words.
It was some sort of official deed with a seal attached on a ribbon and her heart beat a little faster when she saw the signature – Charles R. An actual original letter from the king? Surely not? It certainly had the appearance of something very old; dirty, faded and a bit creased, brownish in colour, with a few ink blobs and jagged edges that were flaking into dust. And that seal, hanging off a tatty ribbon of indeterminate colour.
Which king though? A quick check of the date – June 1660 – meant it had to be Charles II and although some of the ink was faded, she
could make out that this was a letter confirming someone as Earl of Merrick, with lots of legal phrases about the estate and lands. Presumably the first earl then? But who was he? The name, unfortunately, was illegible, but it was still an amazing document.
‘Damn it, Giles, why didn’t you show me this? Explain your heritage in more detail?’
Instead he’d spouted a lot of crap about how being a lord gave him responsibilities and that, as his wife, she had to share them by producing children. That just made him sound pompous and selfish, as if he didn’t care about her feelings on the subject, as if marrying a lord automatically carried with it the duty of getting pregnant as quickly as possible. Too old-fashioned for words.
She settled down to try to read a few more of the ancient letters, scanning them for any mention of Raglan Castle or the Civil War. The castle wasn’t featured, but she did find one letter from someone who signed themselves Marchioness of Worcester in 1650. It was a short note thanking her ‘dear Arbella’ for keeping her promise and returning ‘what bellonged untoe me’. Whatever that was? At the end, there was an intriguing sentence though: ‘I pray you keepe the amythyst cro∫s with my hartfelt gratitude – your loyalltie more than deserves it and I miss it not at all. I hope it brings you goode fortune.’
Was that the Merrick treasure that was rumoured to be buried somewhere in the house or grounds? An amethyst cross? It certainly sounded grand, but not the sort of thing she’d envisaged when Giles went on about it. He’d made it sound like a chest full of gold doubloons or something, a proper pirate’s hoard.
‘Oh, what does it matter though?’ she said out loud. Whatever it was, it was still lost.
Tess put the papers back inside the metal box and noticed a small black USB pen in one corner, which she’d previously missed. Presumably it had copies of important documents from Giles’s computer, but she didn’t have time to look now so she put it in a pencil pot on the desk. She carried the box up to her room for safekeeping. She wasn’t quite sure why she didn’t want it to stay in the library, but some sixth sense warned her to store anything she found in her own room for now. It felt right, like a sanctuary of sorts.
She remembered her original reason for going down to the library that morning – to find out more about the castle and the Civil War – and grabbed some old histories of the area to look at later. For now, she’d spent enough time indoors.
Rather than continue with the gardening, she went to her workshop, another converted stable. Her business was painting old furniture, ‘up-cycling’ as the interior decorators called it, and it was something she loved. She’d started to do quite well before Giles’s accident, but lost heart afterwards. It was time to get back into it as she’d need money to live off. She decided to finish some pieces so she could sell them on eBay or Etsy.
You’re not just hiding out in the workshop in order to avoid Josh? a little voice inside her head asked. Maybe. She was afraid of the feelings he’d stirred up inside her so it was better if she didn’t have to see him. After Giles’s death, she hadn’t thought she’d be attracted to anyone for a very long time, yet here she was only six months after the accident with her hormones running rampant. The mere sight of Josh’s bare, tanned chest had been enough to unsettle her. It was ridiculous and it seemed wrong. Disrespectful, somehow.
But it shouldn’t do, really. She and Giles had been over and maybe now it was time to move on?
Chapter Eleven
Merrick Court, 24th May 2016
Tess had just gone inside to grab something for lunch when the front doorbell sounded.
‘Hi, am I disturbing you?’ Josh was outside, looking a bit hesitant which was ridiculous, considering he owned the place now.
‘No, come in. You surprised me, that’s all. We usually use the back door.’
‘Oh, well you brought me in this way so I assumed … but I’ll remember for next time.’
His smile was disarming and Tess found herself smiling back. ‘I’ll give you a key. Sorry, I should’ve done before now.’
‘Cheers. I promise I won’t come in without knocking though. Wouldn’t want to catch you in your undies or something.’ He wiggled his eyebrows in comical fashion.
Tess felt her cheeks flame at the thought of him seeing her in her underwear, although that was silly. She turned away. ‘I was just making a sandwich. Want anything?’
‘No, thanks. I thought I’d have another look round, if that’s okay?’ He followed her into the kitchen. ‘I’ll need to get some local estate agents to come and give me an estimate so I at least know what figures we’re talking about.’
‘Local estate agents?’ Tess stared at him, sandwich forgotten. ‘Are you kidding?’
Josh frowned. ‘Well, yeah, they’ll know the area best, right?’
‘No, no, what you need are the big London agents. The ones who advertise in Country Life.’
‘Country Life?’ Josh leaned against the Aga and folded his arms over his chest. Tess noticed he was wearing board shorts and flip-flops today, and a part of her couldn’t wait to see Rosie’s reaction to that.
She returned her thoughts to the matter under discussion. ‘It’s a magazine. Very posh. All the really big estates and expensive properties are advertised in there. That way they attract the richest buyers. No way are the little local estate agents going to be able to afford that.’
‘Ah, I get that.’
‘Here, have a look.’ Tess went through a pile of old magazines on the dresser and found a copy. ‘This is a bit out of date, but you’ll see what I mean.’
Josh flicked through it, looking thoughtful. ‘Hmm, interesting. Some of these are a tad pricey.’
‘Mm-hmm.’
‘Do you mind if I borrow this? I can make some calls later.’
‘Sure, go ahead.’
‘Great. I’ll just go and make some notes then so I know what to tell them.’ He took a small notebook and pen out of his pocket.
‘Didn’t Mr Harrison give you all the details?’
‘Yeah, but I like to see for myself. His description was … er, a bit dry.’ Josh grinned. ‘Lawyer-speak.’
Tess laughed. ‘Fine, well, you go ahead. Oh, and here are the keys.’ She pulled out an extra set from a drawer and handed it to him. A warm feeling shot through her as their hands connected, but she steeled herself against it. He wasn’t staying and, even if he was, she shouldn’t be interested. She was the widow of his predecessor – could you get more complicated than that?
Raglan Castle, 24th May 1646
Rhys had followed Arabella all the way back to the castle the day before, making sure there were no other mishaps, but at the same time he’d debated whether he should have left her to fend for herself. After all, if she was a Parliamentarian spy, she didn’t deserve his protection. But he couldn’t be certain of her allegiance and didn’t want to do her a disservice. The fact that he found her attractive had nothing to do with the matter, or so he told himself. He would have done the same for any lone female in need of assistance. It was the gentlemanly thing to do.
He needed proof before confronting her with any accusations.
He’d settled into the garrison and had been assigned a position by Lord Charles, the marquis’s fourth son who was the governor. As he’d brought his own horse and equipment, Rhys didn’t need to be outfitted in any way, which sped up the process considerably. He had simply been allocated a bed in a room with five other cavalry officers and told to join in the daily drills held in the Stone Court.
In his spare time, he set out to learn as much as he could about the inhabitants of the castle and to that end, he swiftly managed to charm some of the maids who looked after the nobly born ladies housed in the grand apartments around the Fountain Court. One, called Esther, proved to be a goldmine of information today, especially about Arabella Dauncey.
‘Oh, a lovely lady, so she is. Not too demanding, you know, like some,’ Esther confided. ‘But then she’s probably very grateful to be here, after all
. She owes his lordship a debt.’
Rhys was intrigued. ‘Really? He’s lent her money?’
Esther laughed out loud. ‘That’s not what I meant at all. No, Mistress Dauncey came here to escape persecution, so she did.’
‘Right. She’s a Papist then, same as most people at Raglan?’ Although he was sure Arabella had said she wasn’t. Was she a liar as well as a spy? He supposed the two went together.
Esther shook her head. ‘Not that kind of persecution, the family kind. I probably shouldn’t be telling you this …’
‘I won’t tell a soul, I swear.’ Rhys gave the maid his best smile, hoping it was enough. It usually was, he’d found. There were very few ladies who weren’t susceptible to his charming ways when he chose to exert himself, although he seldom did as he didn’t like using his looks to deceive people into trusting him. He’d been disgusted by some of the fancy London gentlemen he’d met in Oxford who did just that in order to dupe poor, unsuspecting females into parting with not just their jewels, but their virtues as well.
‘If I hear that you’ve told tales …’ Esther looked mildly threatening and Rhys opened his eyes wide to give her an innocent gaze.
‘On my honour, not a word.’ He put his hand on his heart for emphasis and Esther smiled. Wild horses probably wouldn’t have stopped her gossiping, no matter what he’d said.
‘Well, then …’ Esther crossed her arms over her ample bosom and leaned against a wall, obviously settling in for a long tale. Rhys tried not to show his impatience and continued to smile as she carried on. ‘Mistress Dauncey has an evil uncle – though he might be an uncle by marriage I think as his name is Howell, not Dauncey like hers – and he wanted her lands for himself and his nephew. She’s an heiress, you see, with a big estate over Bergavenny way, and the uncle thought to keep it in the family, as it were, by marrying her to the nephew. Well, she was no more than a slip of a girl, thirteen maybe fourteen or so, and not willing, but they tried to force her.’
The Velvet Cloak of Moonlight Page 10
