by Lynn Bryant
“What needs doing in here?” Roseen said finally, tearing her gaze away from the view and looking round.
Hugh did not follow her gaze but kept his eyes on her. “Nothing. It’s perfect as it is. You can’t improve on nature. I just want to look at the master bedroom and then I’m done for the day. It’s too lovely to spend the rest of it inside. Are you tired?”
“Heavens, no.”
“Good. I’ll ask Voirry to find us some food, even if it’s only bread and cheese, and we’ll ride up to the top, to the old hill fort. You’ll have been up there?”
Roseen shook her head. “No, not to the top. It looks steep, is there a good enough path for the horses?”
“There is, providing they’re sure-footed. I’ve not tried this lad on high ground yet although he seems very solid. But if you’re worried about your bay, we could leave them at the foot with a groom and walk up. It’s a bit of a scramble, but the view is worth it.”
She smiled broadly. “I like that idea.”
“So do I. Stay here and admire the view, I’ll run through the bedrooms and come back for you.”
Hugh rejoined her in fifteen minutes and they went down to the kitchen to find the housekeeper in conversation with a thin faced woman whom she introduced as Mrs Shimmin, the new cook. Voirry raised amused eyebrows at Hugh’s request but provided a light canvas bag with food and a flask.
It was a short ride to the bottom of the slope and Hugh tethered both horses to a fence post and gave brief instructions to his groom, slung the bag over his shoulder and held out his hand. After a brief moment of hesitation Roseen took it and they started up the steep slope.
There was a well marked path and although the going was steep, it was not a particularly difficult climb. Hugh kept a cautious eye on his companion but after ten minutes he relaxed. Miss Roseen Crellin, for all her dainty appearance, was as strong as a young pony and strode up the slope without struggling at all, hampered a little by her skirts. The hem was quickly muddied in some of the boggier areas but it did not seem to bother her. Hugh offered a hand on some of the rockier sections of the path and she accepted it although he suspected she did not really need it.
The breeze picked up as they climbed higher. Around them the slopes were covered with heather, the plants massing together to form a thick, bushy carpet, almost a foot tall in places, tough and strong and made to withstand the dry winds across the hills. Already it was beginning to bloom in swathes of mauve and purple and bright pink. It was springy under their feet and there was a familiarity to the feeling which made Hugh smile, remembering hours of scrambling over these hills with Isaac and other friends of his childhood.
A scrabbling made him turn and his companion stopped and put her hand on his arm to still him. They watched as half a dozen rabbits, disturbed by the unexpected human presence, scrambled inelegantly for their burrows, their short tails vanishing below ground in a flurry of panic. Above, silhouetted against blue sky and scudding white clouds, birds soared and dipped. The air was fresh and clean and Hugh felt an unexpected rush of sheer happiness at being here on these hills, breathing this air and hearing the sounds of home around him.
“Do you miss it - when you’re at sea?”
Hugh turned with the startled sense that she had read his mind. “Yes. Oh God, yes. All the time. I love being at sea - been there most of my adult life. A ship is home to me in ways you can’t imagine. But still I miss this. The smell of earth instead of salt and the solid ground beneath my feet. The sense of something real that I can touch and own. A ship can’t give you that. Even the wind smells different here. This is home. This is Mann. Have you travelled off island much?”
“Twice only. My father’s youngest sister married a Manchester cotton spinner and lives just outside the town. I didn’t like it much.”
Hugh smiled at her expression. “Not even the shops and the theatres?”
“I enjoyed the opera,”Roseen said, after a moment’s consideration. “Shops are shops. Once you have what you need, I’d rather go home.”
Hugh laughed aloud. “You’re an unusual girl, Miss Crellin. Here, give me your hand. Almost there.”
At the top they stood for a moment, catching their breath, drinking in the beauty of the landscape which stretched out before them. The wind buffeted them, cooler up here than the gentle breeze at the foot of the hill, and Hugh studied his companion. The exercise had brought colour to her face and the wind had tugged her hair loose from its confining pins so that part of it blew free. She did not seem conscious of it at all. Her eyes were on the silver surface of the sea, over beyond Derbyhaven. The odd T-shape of the Langness Peninsula jutted out into the sea and a ship bobbed at anchor in the bay. Further out they could see, once again, a flotilla of small boats. Hugh wondered what they were fishing.
“It’s so beautiful,” Roseen breathed. “Thank you for bringing me up here, Captain. I’d no idea you could see so far.”
“We’ve picked the right day, it’s very clear. I’ve been up here and barely been able to see to the bottom of the hill for the mist,” Hugh said.
“Have you? Why make the climb?”
“Playing truant from school. Nobody was going to come searching for me up here, and if you duck down behind the old rampart over there it’s very sheltered, you can hardly feel the wind.”
“I’m glad you said that, I wasn’t looking forward to picnicking in a gale.”
Hugh grinned. She was shading her eyes against the bright sunlight, looking around her. Over to the north-west a huddle of white houses and red roofs marked the location of Peel Town, although it was not possible to make out the distinctive shape of the castle from here. On the opposite side of the island was the larger town of Douglas, growing fast with its new shops and some elegant houses built by men making themselves wealthy in trade. To the south-east lay Castletown, just beyond the peninsula, and here he could see the soft grey stone of the castle very clearly.
A sudden gust of wind made his companion rock slightly and she gave a little shriek. Hugh caught her arm and then realised that she was steady enough, but that the wind had made short work of the lady’s hat pin. Roseen watched the straw hat sailing off down the hillside and Hugh moved to follow it. She caught his arm.
“Don’t bother, Captain. We may find it waiting for us at the foot of the hill, but I don’t much care if we don’t, to be honest.”
“Won’t your aunt give you a scolding?” Hugh asked, amused.
“Very likely, but I get so many of those, it hardly signifies. Show me your sheltered spot before I get blown off my feet.”
He led her round below the rocky outcrop on the southern side of the summit and seated her ceremoniously on one of the big flat rocks, amused at the surprise on her face as she realised that she was completely out of the wind and that the rocks were warm in the sun.
“Goodness - you’d have no idea it could feel so protected here.”
“I know. This was where I used to sit, watching the boats sail and dreaming of running away to sea. I’m afraid your hair is coming down.”
“It always does; I must look like a scarecrow.”
“You look beautiful, lass. If it were up to me, I’d forbid you to put that hair up again, it’s a waste. Here, have some food. That climb has given me an appetite.”
They sat side by side, eating bread and local cheese, and thick slices of home made bonnag. She was hesitant about the flask of mead but Hugh persuaded her to try it and she did so.
“It’s very good - better than I’ve had before.”
“Voirry’s mother makes it. We used to sneak into the pantry and sample it as boys then fall asleep in the meadow when we were supposed to be minding the sheep.”
“Well I hope we don’t fall asleep up here, I’ve an idea it will be cold at night.”
“I’ll make sure I wake you up if you do,” Hugh said.
“What was this place?”
“The home of Mannanan MacLir,” Hugh said promptly. “Didn�
�t they teach you anything?”
Roseen laughed. “My old nurse used to tell me that story,” she said. “She was always very poetic on the subject of Mannanan. I always thought of him as an old bearded man, a sea god protecting the island from all kinds of dangers. But I suspect that Joney imagined him as a fair bit younger and more handsome.”
“When I was a lad some of the villagers used to carry rushes up the hill at midsummer and midwinter as some kind of tribute to the old gods. I wonder if they still do that?”
“I believe they do.”
“The old superstitions die hard. And I should be used to it; sailors are the most superstitious lot on earth. It probably comes from feeling at the mercy of the elements so much. I’m not sure I’ve not muttered a prayer or two to Mannanan myself at the height of a bad storm.”
“I think the fishermen do so,” Roseen said. “But seriously - who built this?”
“I’ve no idea. The old people, was what we were told when we asked as boys. My father said it was some kind of fort originally, that the people of the south used to come up here in times of danger. And you can see why; it would be hard to attack a place like this without being seen. But who they were and how they built it, is a mystery to me.”
“A bleak spot to build a home. Perhaps they only used it in times of need and built houses in the valleys in good times.”
They finished their meal in companionable silence. Hugh leaned back against the smooth slate of the rampart and studied the girl. She was looking out to sea once again. After a moment, she said:
“You’re staring at me, Captain.”
“No reasonable man would blame me,” Hugh said, and she flushed.
“Don’t. Please. I hate it.”
“Compliments? You must receive a fair few of them from the local lads, Miss Crellin. In fact I’m puzzled that you’ve made it to the age of twenty-one and are not married or at least betrothed. They’re slower than I realised on this island of mine.”
She gave a tight little smile. “I’ve not been one for going out into society much until recently. I’m not all that good at parties and talking to people I don’t really know.”
“Do you like to dance?”
“Yes, although I’m not very good at it.”
“Will you be attending the ball at the castle next week?”
Roseen nodded. “I have to. My aunt and my father think it is time I learned to be a lady.”
“I like you the way you are. Will you dance with me? I warn you, I’m not much of a dancer myself, but I can engage not to tread on your feet in a reel or two, I think.”
Roseen turned her head to look at him. He thought she looked a little sad and he felt an urge to lean forward and kiss the frown away. Then she smiled.
“Thank you, I would enjoy that. Perhaps we should make our way down. It must be getting late.”
“You’re right; I should get you home before dark or I’ll be getting one of your aunt’s scoldings myself. But thank you for today, Miss Crellin. I’ve enjoyed it.”
“So have I,” Roseen admitted, and Hugh thought that she sounded slightly surprised to find it true. “Thank you, Captain.”
“We’ll do it again sometime. I’ve a few other favourite boyhood haunts I’d like to share with you. Come on, let’s get you home.”
Chapter Three
It was not the first time that Roseen had attended a ball at Castle Rushen. During the previous year, her aunt had decided that she had run wild for long enough, and Roseen had been obliged to accompany her to an increasing number of social events. Roseen was well aware that the purpose of her somewhat belated social debut was to find her a suitable husband. She had been mutinous initially, but her meeting with the handsome young English lieutenant had temporarily reconciled her to the idea of playing a more active role in local society.
Castle Rushen was not used for the accommodation of the garrison. Over the past century or so it had fallen into disrepair, and these days it was used mainly as the island prison along with a number of administrative functions. Local coins were minted there and the southern law courts were held regularly in one of the rooms. The Governor’s House was also within the walls, currently occupied by the Lieutenant Governor, Cornelius Smelt. Other than that, there was an air of sad neglect about the interior of the castle. Officers and men were billeted in inns and houses through the town and other than guard duty, spent little time in the castle.
The exception was the regular balls hosted by the officers of the garrison through the summer months and at Christmas time. The castle, for all its shabbiness, had a magical quality when hung with coloured lanterns around the courtyards and lit with brilliant candles in the long halls. A local orchestra was seated on a raised platform at one end and the walls were hung with brightly painted copies of old tapestries. Some of the men of the garrison, resplendent in their red coats, acted as waiters for the occasion and Colonel Munro and his officers greeted their guests and vied to partner the prettiest ladies.
For the enchanted months of her romance with Lieutenant Barton, Roseen had looked forward to every ball and party, knowing that he would be there. She was dreading this one. People had watched with some amusement as Josiah Crellin’s awkward daughter tumbled headlong into love with the young Englishman and Roseen knew that she had made no attempt to hide her infatuation. There would be smiles and whispers at her appearance with her aunt and her father and she was not well enough known or liked in local society for them all to be kind.
She allowed Karann to dress her for the evening in a gown of flowing white muslin, a spangled shawl draped over her arms and her mother’s pearls around her neck. Sitting before her mirror she watched miserably as the maid styled her hair into an artful arrangement of dark curls and wished she could go early to bed instead.
The walkway into the castle was too narrow for carriages, so the guests were dropped off in the town square and walked up to the gate and through into the castle. A dark blue carpet had been laid to avoid the ladies soiling the hems of their gowns and it was a fine night with no hint of rain, a light breeze swirling the skirts of Roseen’s gown and making the feathers in her aunt’s headdress bob fiercely. Inside she gave her hand to the colonel and bobbed a polite curtsey to the other officers, not looking up to meet their eyes. There would be speculation, she knew, about how far her relationship with their fellow officer had been allowed to go, and the thought made her flush slightly then a voice broke through her embarrassment.
“Mr Crellin, Mrs Faragher - I’m very glad to see you. I’ve been away longer than I realised and I’ve very few acquaintances here. I’ve secured a table and I’d be very grateful if you’d join me. Miss Crellin, your servant. You’re looking very lovely.”
Roseen looked up quickly. In her misery she had forgotten that Captain Kelly would be here. She had seen little of him during the past week. He had been busy about his estate, and part way through the week had taken pleasant leave of his hosts and moved his servant and his possessions up to Ballabrendon. Roseen had heard nothing from him since and she had wondered if he had, after all, decided against the idea of a match with his business partner’s daughter. Once again she had been left to mourn the departure of her love and she had almost wished that the captain had stayed for longer. His presence, although irritating at times, had been a useful distraction.
She was glad to see him this evening and as he held out his hand she took it with a grateful smile. “Captain Kelly - thank you. How are you, have you settled in?”
“I am beginning to, although I’ve so much to do I’ve barely had time to think. Some of the new furnishings have just arrived and are being installed which means my housekeeper is chasing me from one room to another and I feel permanently in the way. And tomorrow I am informed they are installing the new kitchen range so I suspect I’ll be driven to eat at the Glue Pot or the Black Horse for a few days.”
“Nonsense, sir, you’ll dine with us for as many days as you need to,” her father said
briskly. “No sense in making the taverns rich. My thanks for this, you must have been early to get a table.”
“No, I bribed one of the waiters,” Hugh said calmly, handing Mrs Faragher into her seat. “It always pays to plan ahead. Are you comfortable there, ma’am? Some punch?”
He ladled rum punch into glasses and handed Roseen hers with a smile which invited her to share his amusement. Roseen smiled back. She was pleasantly aware of the disgruntled stares of several damsels standing with their chaperones or seated on the benches which ran along the side of the halls. The few tables available at these events were highly prized and usually went quickly.
It was clear that Captain Kelly had constituted himself their host for the evening. His bribe to the young corporal acting as waiter must have been generous. Roseen sipped the punch and tried not to gloat too obviously at the sight of Miss Maria Quayle and her friends crowded on one of the benches glaring at her. Miss Quayle, a pretty fair haired girl, was considered one of the belles of Castletown and was very popular with the visiting officers. She had set her cap firmly at Lieutenant Barton and had been visibly furious at his preference for Roseen. Since his departure, Miss Quayle had very obviously enjoyed Roseen’s discomfiture and had whispered, rather too loudly, to a number of people, that it was hardly surprising that a gentleman such as Mr Barton had grown tired of the company of a sun tanned hoyden with no social graces.
The orchestra was playing the introduction to a country dance and Roseen’s foot was tapping. Looking up she saw Hugh Kelly smiling at her.
“Shall we give it a try, Miss Crellin?”
Roseen got up. “If you’ll forgive my clumsiness,” she said.
