Eloisa's Adventure (4 page)

When the
carriage began to tip the other way, she slid toward the still
rattling door. She winced when another loud rumble of thunder
crashed overhead. The crack of lightning that followed made her
squeal. She clamped her hands over her ears to block out the
horrendous noise and turned her head to see out of the opposite
side of the carriage. Before she could identify much of the
landscape, the door beside her crashed open, and she was staring
out at the passing hedgerow.

“Hello?”
Eloisa screamed. “Stop the carriage!”

The
violent wind tore the rest of her words out of her mouth. The door
swung wildly and banged against the side of the carriage with
alarming force. When she tried to catch it, she screamed in fear
when she got too close to the doorway and the road loomed up at
her.

Rainwater lashed into the carriage and soaked the skirts of
her dress, but that was of little consequence. She couldn’t catch
the door to close it, and it was impossible to call for help.
Before she was able to decide what to do, the carriage bounced into
yet another deep rut in the road. The sudden jerking motion threw
her out of her seat, and onto the floor with a resounding thud. The
silken material of her skirts aided her slide toward the open door
and the darkness that threatened to swallow her.

“Help!”
she screamed when rainwater pelted her in the face. “Help! Stop the
coach.”

She
grabbed the edge of the carriage with desperate fingers and twisted
around to try to get into the centre of the floor. To her horror
her legs were confined by the voluminous folds of her dress. She
didn’t have enough strength to hold the full force of her weight
for long and felt her desperate grasp start to slip.

“Help
me!” she screamed as her body was blown about by the wind. The road
rushed by horrendously close, but she daren’t look down.

The
carriage started to slow as it took a corner. Unfortunately, it was
too late to save Eloisa, who couldn’t hold on any longer. The wind
took her breath and snatched her scream with relentless brutality
as the solidity of the carriage left her icy grasp. The last of her
breath escaped her in a loud whoosh as she landed with a heavy
thump in the hedge at the side of the road. The shock of her fall
left her gasping, and she lay still for a moment while she stared
blankly up at the sky.

At least you are alive,
she thought
as she sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward. While she began
to take stock of her injuries, she listened to the low rumble of
carriage wheels fade into the distance. She didn’t need to see
through the dark to know that the carriage had left her
behind.

“Come
back,” Eloisa gasped, only to find that her lungs wouldn’t work as
well as they used to. To her disgust, she turned her head in time
to watch the carriage take another corner at the end of the road,
and disappear from sight without slowing its pace. It was several
moments before her mind registered the fact that there was no
footman on the seat at the rear of the carriage. Indignation warred
with disbelief that any driver could be stupid enough to lose two
of his passengers and not know it. There was nothing she could do
about it now though. She had more important matters to deal with,
like how to find her way home.

In spite
of her trembling limbs, the sharp prick of hedge in the back of her
arms and legs forced her to move. She wriggled and writhed and
eventually managed to fight her way free of the prickly thorns.
However, by the time she stood at the side of the road, her legs
trembled so fiercely that she thought she was going to keel over.
She had to lock her knees to remain upright.

When her
breathing had settled into its normal rhythm, she studied her
surroundings and took stock of her situation. Apart from hedgerows
and fields, the landscape was completely devoid of life. Her cry
was loud when it became evident that she could ostensibly be the
only person for miles around. To add to her horror, the one
building that was still visible was the rather haunting
castle.

“You are
not going there,” she assured herself darkly, and quickly turned
her back.

She
looked down at her soiled dress and blinked away the salty sting of
tears. She didn’t need much in the way of light to know that it was
ruined beyond repair. The water stains would be impossible to get
out, even if the voluminous skirts hadn’t been liberally splattered
with mud, thorns and twigs.

Snivelling miserably, she flicked a sodden curl out of her
face and stared down at her soft soled shoes. Although they were
perfect for dancing, they were useless for a walk through the
countryside. They were already soaked, leaving her toes frozen and
her feet numb.

“Clumsy
great oaf,” she snorted in disgust as she threw a dour glare after
the carriage. “If he comes back, I will give that useless buffoon a
piece of my mind that he won’t forget.”

Although
she didn’t know much about weather, she was aware that it was
incredibly dangerous to be out in the middle of a storm as
ferocious as this. She had to find shelter if she didn’t wish to be
struck by lightning, or drowned. Desperate to avoid the castle at
all costs, she turned in a wide circle while she tried to decide
what to do. If she knew where she was she might have a chance of
trying to get herself to safety. Unfortunately, she was thoroughly
lost.

A
looming shadow hovered in the background of her thoughts but she
quashed it. Instead she turned her attention to deciding whether
she should stay where she was and hope someone would come to look
for her. After all, the coachman would realise he had lost his
passengers when he got to his destination – wouldn’t he? Would he
even bother to try to find her? Unfortunately, there was nothing to
say that the carriage’s owner knew that the carriage was being used
to take her to the ball. Maybe the owner would object to his
conveyance being taken out again in search of a guest who shouldn’t
even be there.

She
sighed when another rumble of thunder sounded overhead. She knew
that she would be struck by lightning if she didn’t move soon.
Which way should she go?

Once
more, a dark shape teased the periphery of her vision. She closed
her eyes and willed it to go away but it remained in the forefront
of her mind, just waiting for her to acknowledge it.

The huge
gothic castle was shrouded in the darkest of secrets, of that she
had no doubt. Although it was the only building she had seen since
leaving the village, she was not going to knock on its doors and
ask anything from whoever owned it. The huge turrets were something
straight out of her worst nightmares and she hadn’t even seen the
rest of the building. What she had seen of the massive stone castle
horrified her. It was the last place she should go to seek
refuge.

A scream
erupted from her when a loud crack of thunder sounded behind her.
It rumbled on for several moments longer than it ought to. A flash
of lightning brought about another crack, closer this time, and
altogether different. She spun around and stared in terror at the
large branch that now lay in the middle of the road. Unless she was
going to clamber through the branches now, she was left with little
choice. She had to go back the way she came.

Unfortunately, that brought forth the very real possibility
that if she wanted to stay alive, she must knock on the door of the
first house she came across. It galled her that place of refuge was
the castle she would much rather forget. A deep sense of foreboding
swept through her at the thought of having to knock on that
particular door, but there really was nothing else she could
do.

“You
have to do it,” she whispered.

Dread
made her feet heavy, but she began to walk down the tree-lined
lane. She looked up at the canopy of trees that swung wildly in the
wind and shuddered when an acute sense of loneliness swept through
her. This was the worst place she could be. She needed to get out
into the fields before any more of the branches came down and she
was struck by one of them.

Her
curse was as uncharacteristic as it was bitter as she lifted her
skirts and walked as fast as she could toward refuge. The stones
and pebbles that littered the road bit painfully through the thin
soles of her dancing slippers. She tried to avoid as many as
possible but, by the time she reached the field, her feet were
bruised and sore. Battered by the storm, Eloisa had little choice
but to head toward the one place she would much prefer to forget:
the castle. With any luck, nobody would be at home.

CHAPTER
THREE

Simeon
tucked his chin into the folds of his cloak and tugged his hat low
in a futile attempt to block out the rain. As long as he didn’t
move his head the rainwater wouldn’t go down the back of his neck
and soak his shirt. Keeping his head still though was damned near
impossible because his horse kept sliding in the muddy quagmire
that used to be his field. As a result, he was cold, tired,
thoroughly fed up, and annoyed he had to make this journey at
all.

“Damn
it, Humphrey, slow down,” he cursed when the horse stumbled heavily
over a deep rut. He could understand the beast’s eagerness to get
out of the storm because he too would rather be anywhere else but
here.

The last
thing he wanted to do was head back to Mitchelham Castle so soon
after his last visit but, having received that mysterious letter,
but he had no choice. When he had read the unsigned note, his first
instincts had been to toss the wretched thing into the fire and
ignore it. However, the warning it contained plagued
him.

The
letter had come from someone in Mitchelham village who had
witnessed unusual activity in the supposedly empty castle. They
suspected someone was stealing from the place. Although no dates,
times or culprits had been mentioned, Simeon had to find out for
himself what was going on.

After
his last visit three weeks ago he had hoped he had seen the last of
the place. Now though, Fate had drawn him back with determined
fingers, and rendered his life miserable once more.

“Thank
you God,” he growled when a particularly loud rumble of thunder
made his horse, Humphrey, increase his pace again.

Simeon
glared balefully at the flash of lightning that streaked across the
sky. The roiling dark clouds matched his mood and seemed to befit
the dark occasion. The only positive he could find in this
situation was that he could now get several matters settled before,
hopefully, he could leave and never come back.

He
wished now that he had taken the time to instruct an agent in
London to put the awful castle up for sale. Why on earth anyone
would wish to live in such a forbidding mausoleum was anyone’s
guess. After the trouble it had brought him in the short space of
time he had owned it, he couldn’t wait to get it off his hands so
he could get on with his life. Since he had inherited it several
weeks ago, it had rapidly become the bane of his life. As soon as
the personal family papers had been collected, he could search the
place thoroughly, as suggested in the note, and then make his way
to his own estate in Cumbria.

Given
what had happened of late, he rather wished that he hadn’t left
Cumbria at all now. He hated London in the season. It seemed to be
full of giggling debutants and match-making mama’s who materialised
in front of him every time he stepped out of his front door. He had
so many women of all shapes and sizes paraded in front of him like
mares at a horse market that he didn’t know whether to ask them to
dance or place a bid.

It would
be humorous if it wasn’t so damned worrying. One wrong word; one
wrong look, and he knew he would be forced to attend someone’s
social engagement where women would be waiting in packs to stalk
their prey. He had a new compassion for the deer on his estate
during hunting season. He was damned sure that if he stood still in
London for too long, he would be stalked, hunted down, rendered
useless, and dragged home to stand vacantly before the hearth by
the finest of matrimonial hunters.

“Come on
boy,” he muttered when his horse stumbled over the rough ground and
nearly unseated him. “Not long now.”

He eyed
his horse’s drooping head and knew the animal was as miserable as
he was. The familiar sight of Mitchelham on the horizon didn’t
bring him any joy though, in spite of it being the only refuge from
the inclement weather. He knew what awaited him in the cold stone
walls would bring him more trouble than answers. All he could do
was just pray that the next few days were going to work in his
favour. If not, then his newly acquired inheritance could cost him
significantly more than work – like his life.

Once
again, the circumstances of his late Uncle George’s demise rose to
the forefront of his mind. It still remained a mystery whether
George had accidentally ingested the poison that had killed him via
a drink, or a meal. Whichever way, nothing had been found to
indicate that George had taken his own life. Unfortunately, that
led Simeon to suspect that his late uncle had been murdered by
person, or persons, unknown. Looking at the castle now, it was easy
to believe that it was the place where a murder had been carried
out. Especially after what had happened to him the last time he had
chosen to stay overnight.