An Introduction To The Eternal Collection Jubilee Edition (121 page)

“You are speaking, of course, of my cousin, Gervase Walingham. I will not pretend to you that I have not at times suspected him myself of being jealous of me. He is always short of money, always badgering me to pay his debts, and he shows but scant gratitude when I do but at the same time I cannot conceive that he would connive at my death.”

“You are fond of him, my lord?” Caroline asked.

Lord Brecon shrugged his shoulders.

“Not particularly. We have seen little of each other. Gervase went to Harrow and then his father bought him a commission in the Guards. Our paths have not crossed to any great extent.”

“And yet now you see him frequently?” Caroline persisted.

“By no means,” Lord Brecon replied. “I had not set eyes an Gervase these past two years until I returned home last February. He came here to welcome me on my return, stayed a few weeks, and I have encountered him once or twice since then at White’s Club. That is all.”

“He has not called on you this past week?” Caroline asked.

“No! Why do you ask me that?”

But Caroline did not reply. She was remembering what Gideon had told her. So Mr. Gervase Warlingham had been in Cuckhurst, had seen Jason Faken, and yet he had not visited the Castle. It was strange, and yet she wished to be sure of her facts before she said more. All that she had were suspicions and besides, Gideon was only a circus boy, he might have been mistaken. She did not wish Lord Brecon to think that she gossiped of his affairs with the circus folk.

Lord Brecon turned from the window and walked across the room to her again.

“It is kind of you to tell me this, Miss Fry, but methinks you are entirely wrong in your suspicions of Gervase. When you meet him, you will like him, for he is a handsome fellow and has, I believe, many friends. He may be open-handed with his money - or my money if it comes to that- but I swear he is no murderer. No, Miss Fry, you are misinformed and though I thank you for your interest in me, I must beg of you to believe me when I say that the ties of blood are stronger than covetousness, and Gervase is my first cousin.”

“Pray heaven you are right, my lord,” Caroline said. “But will you promise to be careful?”

“Careful of what?” Lord Brecon asked. “Losing my life? My dear Miss Fry, as I told you the first time we met, life is of little consequence to me. I would as fain lose it as retain it.”

As he spoke, it seemed to Caroline that a bitter expression shadowed his face and that there was a strange darkness in his eyes. He spoke heavily, as a man might who is under sentence of death, who has lost hope and for whom there was no future. It was a strange impression she received and yet was unmistakable. For a moment she could only stare at him, knowing that he was looking inwardly at some hideous secret which she could not share, and speaking truthfully and without exaggeration.

She had a sudden premonition of danger. She felt and knew that all she had half sensed or guessed intuitively was but a fraction of the ghastly truth. It was as if something indefinably evil threatened Lord Brecon, creeping inexorably nearer and nearer while she was powerless to save him.

Caroline’s horror must have been shown on her face, for all of a sudden Lord Brecon smiled and the darkness vanished from his eyes.

“But I must not trouble you,” he said. “Yes, Miss Fry, I will be careful if it pleases you.”

He spoke lightly and she knew that his promise was but to soothe her and he had no intention of keeping it. Daringly she put out her hand and laid it on his arm.

“Could you not tell me the truth?” she pleaded.

He looked down into her eyes and knew quite well what she meant. For one moment he seemed to stand there spellbound and hesitant, seemingly about to surrender the citadel of his thoughts, for his steel-grey eyes lightened and she had a glimpse of the light-hearted man he might have been - a glimpse of happiness and laughter and of something else which made her shy. Then the mask dropped once more and he gave a little humourless laugh, oddly reminiscent of the one he had given in the woods the night they met.

“Gad, Miss Fry, would you hound me?” he asked. “I have nothing to tell, alas. You asked me to promise you that I would be careful and I have given you my word.”

Caroline turned her head aside. It was hopeless, she knew. The truth evaded her and there was nothing she could do about it

“Then, my lord, if you will excuse me,” she said. ‘I will return to your Lady Mother.”

She did not look at him and there was disappointment in her voice. She had moved only a step or two towards the door before he was at her side again and had taken her hand in his.

“You will stay, Miss Fry?” he said. “You won’t leave the Castle? I want you to stay.”

Still Caroline did not look at him, then he added,

“But, by God, I ought to ask you to go.”

The words seemed to burst from Lord Brecon’s lips, his fingers tightened on hers, and she felt emotion vibrating through him so that she raised her eyes in wonderment to his face. Her eyes met his and then she was very still. Something magnetic passed between them so that Caroline quivered and felt her breath quicken. The whole world seemed to recede and there were only the two of them standing there. They were alone, man and woman facing each other across eternity.

A coal fell in the grate, shattering the spell which bound them. Caroline’s eyes dropped and because of a shyness such as she had never known before she turned and without another word went from the room.

She heard the library door close behind her, a defiant little bang as she ran down the passage, across the hall and up the stairs.

She did not look around her, she had only one idea and that was to find herself back in the sanctuary of Lady Brecon’s sunlit room. But even as she sped along the corridor, Dorcas appeared at the far end of it.

“Her ladyship is asleep, Miss Fry. I will show you to your bedchamber, and inform you when she wakes.”

She stalked along the passage and Caroline followed her, her thoughts and feelings too chaotic and tumultuous for her to think of anything at the moment save Lord Brecon’s face as it had been but a moment ago in the Library.

“Here is your room, Miss Fry. ’Tis near her’ ladyship’s should she require you.”

Dorcas opened the door of a small slip of a bedroom. It was cheerless and rather chill as if it had not been used for some time, but Caroline saw only one thing in it - Maria, standing demurely by the dressing-table.

Dorcas gave Maria a sharp glance.

“Help Miss Fry with all she needs until her luggage arrives. After that assist her to unpack.”

“Yes, Miss Dorcas.”

Maria bobbed a little curtsey and then as the door shut she stared at Caroline while a broad smile transformed her plump face. Caroline held a warning finger to her lips.

“Wait a moment,” she whispered.

She crept towards the door, listened and breathed a sigh of relief.

“‘Tis all right,” Maria said. “You are safe with her, m’lady. She is a decent sort is Miss Dorcas, harsh though she seems. It’s more than I can say of anyone else in the household.”

“Oh, Maria,” Caroline exclaimed. “I am so pleased to see you. Tell me what you have discovered.”

“A good deal, m’lady so much in fact that I hardly knows where to begin. Oh, never have I seen such a household, all at sixes and sevens it is. ‘Tis an eye-opener for me, I can assure you, m’lady, after living at Mandrake, to see the squabbling and wrangling in a house like this and the waste that goes on. Why, your ladyship would never believe it.”

“Yes, yes, I want to hear everything,” Caroline said, “but first tell me, who is Mrs. Miller?”

“You may well ask that, m’lady,” Maria answered. ‘‘Tis what I asked myself for ‘twas Mrs. Miller who engaged me. I saw the housekeeper first, a poor limp creature she is, too frightened to death of that Mrs. Miller. But as luck would have it two housemaids had left this very week, one discharged for impertinence and the other one walked out because she could not stand Mrs. Miller’s domineering ways.”

“But who is she?” Caroline asked again.

“Well, as far as I can ascertain,” Maria said, “she is a connection by marriage of his lordship’s aunt Lady Augusta Warlingham.”

“Does Lady Augusta live here too?” Caroline asked.

“Indeed she does, and a stranger lady you never saw. Tis hard put I am not to laugh when I have to attend her in her bedchamber.”

“Yes but go on about Mrs. Miller,” Caroline interrupted, knowing how easily Maria could be side-tracked from the main point of a story.

“It appears,” Maria went on, “that Lady Augusta fair dotes on her nephew, Mr. Gervase Warlingham, the gentleman that your ladyship asked me to enquire about.”

“Yes, and what has he got to do with it?”

“Mrs. Miller’s husband served with Mr. Warlingham in the Army and was killed, so I understand, at the Battle of Waterloo, and Mrs. Miller, being left with only a tiny pension, gets Mr. Warlingham to introduce her here when his lordship was away, on the Continent. Lady Augusta was in charge then, but she doesn’t care for housekeeping and so she gives Mrs. Miller full authority over the household and when his lordship comes back she’s in the saddle right enough, giving herself the airs and graces of the Quality.”

“I see,” Caroline said. “So she is a friend of Mr. Gervase Warlingham’s?”

“More than a friend, some say,” Maria answered, and added hastily, “not that I should be repeating such vulgar gossip to your ladyship and you must forgive me for mentioning it. Oh, m’lady, you are too young to be mixed up with all this sort of thing, and what would your father and her ladyship say to such a sorry coil? Let’s go home your ladyship, let’s get away from here. ‘Tis wrong I was to agree to such play-acting, and I have a feeling that worse might happen.”

“What do you mean?” Caroline said. “Worse might happen?”

“I am sure I don’t know, your ladyship,” Maria replied miserably. “’Tis just a feeling I have in my bones, like a goose walking over my grave, and I can’t explain it. I only know that I want to get back to Mandrake and take your ladyship with me.”

“Then you are going to be disappointed, Maria,” Caroline said, ‘for I intend to stay here. I intend to get to the bottom of all the mysteries there are in this house.”

As she spoke she raised her chin and there was an expression on her face and a ring in her voice which her father would have recognised as being characteristic of the Fighting Fayes all down the centuries. Maria continued to argue but she knew she fought a losing battle, and finally she indulged in a fit of the sullens, muttering darkly that she could smell trouble in the very air she breathed.

By dinner time Caroline’s trunks had come and Maria had unpacked and dressed her in a gown of pale blue figured gauze tastefully draped over a petticoat of blue sarsnet which was embroidered with silver spangles. It was an elaborate dress for someone in the lowly position of companion but Caroline, fortified with Harriet’s idea that she was wearing Lady Caroline Faye’s cast-off clothes, wished to look beautiful rather than demure, fashionable rather than humble.

She was not unduly perturbed by the expression on Mrs. Miller’s face as she walked into the drawing-room where they were to assemble before dinner was served. Mrs. Miller was also modishly attired, but her dress of yellow and saffron stripes was of cheap material and she relied more on exhibiting the charms of her white shoulders and full bosom than on the cut or hang of her gown.

Looking at her, and at her painted lips and ornately arranged hair, Caroline was certain that Mrs. Miller was not the respectable widow she appeared to be. She had seen women like her often enough in London and heard her godmothers frankly expressed opinion of them. Lady Brecon, lying an invalid in her own bedroom, might not realise it, but Mrs. Miller, Caroline was sure, was not the type of person to manage a distinguished house or even to be a guest in one.

As Caroline entered the drawing-room Mrs. Miller was speaking with an older woman whose appearance was so fantastic that Caroline concluded immediately that she must be the Lady Augusta Warlingham. She wore a wig of bright scarlet hair, frizzed and curled in an elaborate manner and ornamented with a bunch of crimson feathers held in place by a huge emerald and diamond brooch which matched the necklace of priceless emeralds round her yellow neck. She was very old, but her, thin, wrinkled face was heavily rouged, the powder clogged in her wrinkles while her old, short-sighted eyes were outlined with mascara. She pointed a claw-like hand at Caroline and cackled.

“So this is the girl, is it? Come here, child, and let me look at you.”

Caroline did as she was told, dropping a curtsey and standing before the old woman, waiting for permission to move. Lady Augusta, looked at her, raised a quizzing-glass, then laughed a hoarse, chuckling laugh which somehow made Caroline like her, despite her extra ordinary, appearance.

“You are a pretty chit,” she said. “Far too pretty, I am sure, for your comfort or for any other woman’s. I am not surprised that Hester wants to be rid of you. Is that what pricks you, Hester, my’ dear?” she asked of Mrs. Miller. “Too pretty, too pretty by far, and Gervase will be the first to notice it, eh?”

Caroline was amused to see that Mrs. Miller looked cross and uncomfortable.

“I was concerned only with Lady Brecon’s comfort,” she said stiffly, but Lady Augusta laughed again.

“Stuff and nonsense, you are concerned only with your own feelings in the matter, as you always have been. Yes, she is pretty, too pretty for you to stomach, Hester, I should get rid of her if you can.”

She chuckled again and at that moment Lord Brecon entered the room and the butler announced that dinner was served. Lord Brecon always looked smart but in Caroline’s eyes he was resplendent in evening dress. His coat of royal blue satin was ornamented with sapphire buttons, and the snowy folds of his cravat were arranged with meticulous care in the very latest mode. He offered Lady Augusta his arm and they went slowly in to dinner, followed by Mrs. Miller and Caroline.

“We are a very small party tonight,” Lady Augusta remarked.