dragon archives 02 - pursued by a dragon (7 page)

“Of course you should go,” Father said. “Has she mentioned dates?” Cathryn read him the note, but then the smile dropped from her face.

“Actually, I don’t think I will go.”

“Why ever not? You seemed quite taken with the idea a moment ago.”

“There is still much to be done to get ready for the tour.”

“Nonsense. You have done nothing but prepare for the tour for the last two weeks. You need to spend time with your friends as well, and it is only for two nights.”

“But —”

“And furthermore, you have been poor company of late. You need a distraction while you wait for the weather to improve.”

“But —”

“Cathryn, is there anything in the lady’s character that is making you hesitate?”

“No.”

“Then I insist you go.” Cathryn twisted her hands in her lap. She had no wish to reveal that the true reason for her reluctance to go was the possibility of Favian’s presence at Drake Manor.

“Very well, Father. I will notify Madame Drake of my acceptance.”

“Good. And you will see that I am right. I predict you will return quite refreshed.”

Cathryn was ready when the carriage arrived promptly at nine o’clock on Monday morning. Hannah stood at the door, pouting at being left behind, although Cathryn had told her to take the days off. Her valise had been stowed when her father handed her into the carriage, and she sank into the plush seating before pulling back the curtain that hung over the small window. Father was standing on the step, waiting to wave goodbye as the carriage pulled away.

It was almost noon by the time the carriage swept up a long driveway to stop in front of a large, stone house with high crenellated walls, from behind which peeked a steeply pitched roof of wood. On either end of the house jutted multi-sided towers, while a square entrance porch, with roses climbing over the yellow stone walls, stood towards the right end of the long building. It was from here that Margaret Drake emerged, a tall man striding out close behind her. He cut a striking figure, and with his blazing red hair, Cathryn guessed that he must be Favian’s father. This was soon confirmed when Margaret introduced him to her guest.

“Welcome to Drake Manor.” She greeted Cathryn with a smile. “Allow me to introduce my husband, Owain.”

“Master Drake,” greeted Cathryn with a curtsey.

“You are most welcome, Mistress,” Owain responded. “My wife is surrounded by men who can be less than refined, so it is good for her to enjoy some more feminine company for a change.” He cast a mischievous smile at his wife as she moved forward to clasp Cathryn’s hands.

“Come, my dear, you must be weary. Let me show you to your room where you can refresh yourself.”

Brushing past her husband with a smile, Margaret led Cathryn through the porch into the hall. The large room reached the full height of the building, with a timbered roof that rose from the walls at a steep pitch that matched the roof she had seen outside. Long, multi-paned windows ran along the length of the walls, filling the room with light. At the far end of the hall was a raised dais, with a wooden screen behind, while at both ends of the hall arched doorways led to passages beyond. It was through the closest doorway that Margaret led Cathryn. Three more doors led from the passage, and Margaret paused at the first.

“This is the small parlor, where I will await you.” She continued down the passage, pointing out the small dining room and library, Cathryn close at her heels. Half way along the passage the wall to the left became a half wall, interspersed with pillars, over which the courtyard could be seen. Cathryn could see doorways where the hall opened into the courtyard, which bustled with activity, while on the opposite side another wing of the building also faced the courtyard, leaving just one side of the courtyard open. Cathryn paused to take in the scene, while Margaret glanced over her shoulder.

“The kitchen, pantry and buttery occupy that side of the building,” she explained. “And upstairs are chambers, one of which is currently used by our nephew.”

At the end of the passage was a steep, spiral staircase, and Cathryn followed Margaret towards it.

“Your nephew resides with you?” she asked as they mounted the stairs.

“Well,” Margaret paused in her ascent, turning to look at Cathryn as she answered. “‘Resides’ is not strictly accurate. Aaron comes and goes as he pleases, and never spends more than a night or two at a time. He can be quite … unsocial, and as he knows of your visit, I do not expect to see him for the duration of your stay.” She turned and continued up the stairs as Cathryn absorbed this, stepping out onto another passage. There was a door to the left, through which Margaret led Cathryn.

“Your chambers while you are here, my dear,” Margaret said, her hand sweeping over the room. Directly opposite the doorway a window was set into the thick walls, and Cathryn crossed the room to view the aspect. The house sat on a slight rise, and from this section of the house stretched green lawns that rolled away down a gentle slope towards woods that stood in the distance.

“It is lovely, thank you.”

“Take your time refreshing yourself, and I will meet you in the parlor when you are ready,” Margaret said as she left the room, pulling the door closed behind her.

Cathryn looked around the room, noting that her valise already sat at the foot of the canopied bed. The bed drapes had been tied back, and Cathryn could see the fine embroidered coverlet that lay atop the mattress. To the right of the window ran a long table, on which sat a basin and ewer, already filled with water, and a pitcher of wine, with a crystal glass resting beside it. Despite the milder temperatures of the day, a fire roared in the hearth across from the bed.

Pulling her cloak off her shoulders, Cathryn threw it onto a stool and crossed to the table, where she poured herself a glass of wine. A stack of linens lay beside the basin, and within a short time she felt herself ready to head back downstairs.

The parlor that Cathryn stepped into was at the front of the house, in one of the multi-sided towers Cathryn had seen from outside. Windows were set in the angled walls, allowing for views of the front, side and back of the house, making the whole room seem alive as light danced through the uneven windowpanes. Margaret had been plying a needle as Cathryn entered the room, but she set the embroidery aside as she looked up at the younger woman.

“Help yourself to something to eat,” said Margaret, gesturing to a tray of bread and cold meat that lay on a small table near the window. “I thought we could tour the gardens this afternoon, if that arrangement suits you.” Cathryn agreed this was a wonderful plan, and after nibbling on a few morsels, indicated herself ready to start.

Chapter 12 

The afternoon passed quickly as Cathryn followed Margaret around the gardens at Drake Manor. They had been laid out in a rectangular plan, at the center of which was a large circular pond. The surface of the water was littered with the broad leaves of water lilies, and as Cathryn drew near, she heard the plop of frogs as they jumped beneath the surface, joining the fish that moved lazily though the water. Around the pond was a gravel path, and beyond the path was grass, broken into four sections by paths that radiated outward. In each section of grass was a raised bed, bordered by lavender, where various herbs and flowers grew, while in each corner stood a lemon tree, the blossoms scenting the warm air. The whole was bordered by a high hedge, beyond which lay another walkway, over which grew trellised vines creating a covered passage, where benches of marble and hidden nooks could be found. It was the perfect place to while away the hours in quiet contemplation or engaging conversation, and the time slipped by as Margaret shared her memories of Drake Manor with Cathryn.

It was growing late by the time Cathryn and Margaret emerged from the gardens. When Cathryn indicated her disappointment that she hadn’t seen the woods or wilderness beyond, Margaret was quick to reassure her.

“We still have the whole of tomorrow,” she said. “Perhaps you would enjoy exploring on horseback?”

“Yes, that would be lovely.”

“You enjoy riding?”

“Very much so. I have a beautiful mare that I try and ride as often as I can. There is an open meadow just beyond the town gate, and it is the one place where I feel completely free. At the far end is an enormous oak tree, and Morana and I ride as though the devil were on our heels.” She laughed self-consciously as Margaret smiled.

“I enjoy riding as well. I will arrange for the horses to be saddled and ready in the morning.”

The two women had reached the house, and passing under the porch, entered the hall. “I need to speak to the steward,” said Margaret, “so I will take my leave of you for now. Supper will be ready soon, so join us in the dining room when you are ready. Except for Sundays and feast days, we prefer to take our meals there.”

Thanking her hostess, Cathryn headed down the narrow passageway towards the spiral staircase. She glanced over the wall into the courtyard as she passed, pausing to watch the antics of some children playing at swords, when a slight movement above the scene caught her eye. Glancing up, she saw a man standing in the upper passageway, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore no tunic, leaving his muscled chest bare, and although he looked slighter than Favian, Cathryn saw no reason to doubt his strength. He had golden brown hair that hung over his shoulders, and from some trick of the light, his eyes seemed to be blazing. He was staring at her, his gaze lowered, direct, and angry. She drew back behind a pillar in fright, her heart pounding in her chest, before risking another look, but the man had gone. Leaning back against the pillar, she drew in a deep breath, wondering who the person could be. Checking once more that the man was gone, she ran up the stairs to her chambers, where she settled the bar across the door and crossed over to the pitcher of wine, pouring herself a glass with shaking hands.

By the time Cathryn had changed into a gown of sapphire blue, and had braided and coiled her hair, securing it with a pin of silver and bronze, the feeling of dread had passed. In fact, she was glad no-one had been around to see her foolish display. It seemed unlikely that the Drakes would be harboring any dangerous criminals, and even if the person was not pleasant, as a guest of the Drakes he would do nothing to threaten her. She made her way down the stairs to the dining room, where Margaret and Owain were already waiting.

“Have you recovered from your journey?” Owain asked Cathryn as they sat down.

“Yes, thank you. I spent a most pleasant afternoon in the gardens.” She paused a moment. “I saw someone in the passage opposite mine earlier. Was that your nephew?” She watched as Owain and Margaret exchanged a quick look.

“What did he look like, my dear?” Margaret asked.

Cathryn blushed as she replied. “He had light brown hair, but his chest was bare. He appeared to be rather angry about something.”

“That sounds like him. I dare say you caught him unawares, which is why he appeared angry.”

“Yes, you are probably right.” Cathryn nodded.

She turned her head at the sound of Favian walking into the room, his eyebrows drawn together in a frown. He gave her a quick glance as he walked around the table.

“Who is angry?” he asked, bending down to give his mother a kiss on the cheek.

“Aaron,” said Owain. “Cathryn saw him earlier.”

“Ah,” said Favian, meeting and holding Owain’s gaze.

It was loaded, that ‘ah’, thought Cathryn. Perhaps her fears hadn’t been foolish after all. She looked down as Favian switched his gaze to her.

“You are perfectly safe here,” he said. He dropped down into a seat next to his mother, grabbing a shank of lamb off a platter and placing it on a plate.

“You haven’t eaten?” his mother asked.

“I have,” he said with a grin, “but I am a growing lad.” He turned to face his father. “I was over at Morgan’s earlier, helping him repair his roof.” Owain nodded as Favian explained. “Morgan is one of our tenants, and his roof caught alight the other day. Thankfully the house was empty. It is uncertain how the fire started, but not too much damage was done.”

“Perhaps it was lightning,” Cathryn suggested.

“Well, that is a possibility,” Favian said, “except that the sky was clear.” There was a note of challenge in his voice that urged Cathryn to respond.

“Well, maybe an ember from the hearth.”

“Hmm, the roof had been burnt from the outside, though,” Favian said, smiling in amusement.

“Perhaps someone set it deliberately.”

“Yes, but who would do that?”

“Favian …” Owain said, but Favian ignored him.

“The man is liked well enough, and no-one saw anything suspicious,” he said, placing his arms on the table and leaning towards her, his eyes intent.

“A villain, bent on havoc then.”

“True, but I like to think that someone would have noticed a stranger lurking about.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Cathryn said, exasperated. “Maybe it was a dragon!”

Favian leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest, his mouth twitching with laughter.

“Maybe it was, at that,” he said.

“Just ignore him, my dear,” said Margaret, glaring at her son. He glanced at her, unrepentant, before returning his gaze to Cathryn. She met the challenge for a moment, and then turned to Owain, a smile pasted on her face.

“Do you have many tenants?” she asked.

“A few,” he replied, glancing at Favian, before settling his gaze on their guest. “Most of our land is given over to pasture though.”

“Sheep?” said Cathryn, her interest piqued. Owain’s smile widened.

“Yes, sheep,” he said.

“Ah. What breed?”

“Lincolns.”

“Oh, really?” Cathryn said, glancing up as a servant placed a tray of sweetmeats on the table. Lincolns were prized for their long wool, which produced very fine cloth. Owain watched her quietly as she made her selection from the tray.

“How many?” she asked, before popping a tiny fruit pastry into her mouth.

“Two thousand.” Owain eyed the tray before leaning forward to make his own selection. Cathryn suppressed a smile. Two thousand was a good-sized flock.