Shadows at Stonewylde (40 page)

But there was dismay when it was announced that every household must contribute a set number of specific items for
Stonewylde.com
before the growing season began. Harold had made lists of what was required to keep the warehouses well stocked for the season ahead, and these were posted in the Great Barn and the Galleried Hall. Young people boarding at the Hall spent the long evenings sewing quilts and whittling figurines and candlesticks, whilst those Village women gifted at embroidery decorated the delicate and much sought-after white linen nightdresses. Slippers and hats made from Stonewylde’s thick, high-quality felt were in great demand and every evening Villagers gathered in the Laundry House to make more felt, whilst others worked in the Barn on the finished material, cutting and sewing.

Harold had commissioned a Stonewylde logo which was put on every product – a beautiful curly S that looked like a snake. Harold was really proud of his branding and the Internet mail order company was growing amazingly fast. Selling out of so many products before Yule had whetted the public’s appetite and there were now waiting lists for many of the goods. A feature in a quality Sunday newspaper alluding to a mysterious private estate deep in Dorset that produced hand-made, organic goods for the luxury market had only added to the interest. Harold became increasingly excited at the prospect that
Stonewylde.com
was about to become something huge and he warned Yul that they must be ready for it.

The high quality leather produced in the tannery was tremendously popular, and Harold urgently requested that more people learn the craft of leather work. Orders for shoes, boots, jackets, belts and bags were pouring in and demand far outstripped supply. Meetings were held with Edward to discuss the economics of raising more cattle for their hides, and of the impact the extra beef would have on the balance of agriculture that had always been so stable in the past. Yul threw himself into the logistics of organising the economy, glad of the extra work to fill his interminable evenings while things were so difficult between him and Sylvie.

They’d reached a careful truce after the events of Samhain and Yule, knowing they couldn’t carry on like this indefinitely but both unable to make it better. Yul deeply regretted the terrible night on Solstice Eve when he’d drunkenly forced himself on Sylvie. He’d apologised at length, his remorse genuine and profound, and they’d skirted around the issue that had led to his need to do it in the first place. Sylvie had toyed with the idea of telling him the truth, but how could she explain that Magus was haunting her? She knew how ridiculous it sounded and, worse, she knew Yul would assume she was slipping back into mental illness. So she offered some vague fabrication about the hormonal implant upsetting her body’s natural balance.

Yul knew this wasn’t the full story and wondered if she’d lost interest in him because there was someone else. It was ages since she’d left Stonewylde so it’d have to be someone living in the community. He went through every male over the age of twenty or so but could think of no one who could’ve captured his wife’s interest, let alone get her into bed. But it still preyed on his mind despite knowing in his heart that it was a ludicrous notion, and made him irritable and depressed.

Yul tried to reconnect with the magic of Stonewylde, the other issue that was making his life miserable. He took Skydancer up to the Stone Circle every morning for the sunrise, and tethered the great grey stallion whilst he sat on the Altar Stone and tried to spiritually realign himself with the energy that used to flood through him. He spoke to the Goddess, pouring out his troubles and worries, raising his arms in supplication as the sun appeared over the horizon. Sometimes he felt the familiar throb of green magic, although never as strongly as before. But often there was barely a flicker and he’d leave the sacred place disconsolate, tired and disillusioned.

Then every day he’d ride hard along the Dragon’s Back, sometimes heading west towards the hills where the sheep grazed in summer, and sometimes to the east towards the great Wildwood. He’d arrive back at the Hall trembling with exertion and bathed in sweat, clattering into the stable yard where Tom or a stable-lad would be waiting. Yul was surprised to see Rufus there one morning, the boy’s bright auburn hair as distinctive as ever. The boy smiled shyly as Yul dismounted and came forward tentatively to stroke Skydancer.

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ said Yul rather brusquely, loosening the girth. The stallion was dark with sweat for they’d ridden harder than usual that morning and Yul didn’t want the boy to be on the receiving end of the horse’s exhausted bad temper. Rufus’ face fell and he snatched his hand back. Yul tossed the reins to Tom and strode up to the Hall for a much-needed shower. He noticed Rufus there on several occasions after that and wondered idly why the boy had started visiting the stables in the mornings before school. Rufus wasn’t chatty and Yul recalled Sylvie telling him how shy the boy was. He skulked around in the shadows, probably getting in Tom’s way and upsetting the horses, and he always seemed about to say something but never actually did. Yul found his nervousness irritating and found it easiest to ignore the boy.

After breakfast in his office with Harold, which they found was the best time for a daily liaison, Yul would settle down to the day’s work which increasingly took place not out on the estate but in his office, either on the phone or at the computer. He ate lunch in the Dining Hall, trying to mix with the youngsters at school and the other adults living there. He made an effort most afternoons to go down to the Village and call in to the Village School, the Nursery or the Barn. He knew how important it was to keep in touch with the heartbeat of Stonewylde and not become a distant figurehead, however busy the logistics kept him. He spent some time with his daughters later, sitting with them whilst they ate their tea and played until bath time.

He and Sylvie dined together in their apartments once the girls had been put to bed, but then the long evening stretched ahead of them. This was the difficult time for him. In the past, although he was always busy and often had to work in the evenings, he loved to spend the evening with Sylvie, talking, reading, cuddling up on the sofa. He never tired of her company. But now they were awkward together. She was silent for much of the time and he found it difficult to talk to her; he found himself actually making conversation, trying to think of things to speak about, which was an utterly ridiculous situation.

So rather than endure that, Yul would return to his office and work, or increasingly watch the television in there and drink a bottle of mead, which helped him sleep. The sofa bed became his permanent sleeping place. He couldn’t bear the pain and embarrassment of Sylvie’s possible rejection of him so he very rarely risked it. The longer the situation continued, the more difficult he found it to approach her. Unhappiness lodged in his heart like a chip of ice, permeating everything he did and affecting everyone around him. Yul’s darkness of spirit was all-pervading, made worse by the waning of his ability to channel the Earth Magic.

Sylvie kept herself busy and progressively threw herself into the crafts that everyone else around her worked on, and which were becoming so important to Stonewylde’s economy. As she became more adept she would sometimes ask a couple of the girl boarders to babysit so she could join other women working in the cosy sitting rooms downstairs, or even down in the Village. She felt herself gradually become more integrated into the community now she was no longer so totally wrapped up in Yul. She was more receptive to others and found people starting to relax in her company and talk more openly; it was the one positive thing that kept her going during the long dark days and nights.

She found the evenings difficult too and as the hour for bedtime approached she’d become withdrawn, quiet and worried. Although she longed for Yul, ached for the warmth and closeness they’d always shared, another part of her had begun to hope he’d stay downstairs and leave her alone. He drank more now than ever before. Instead of a glass of wine with dinner he now finished off the whole bottle before going down to his office. She knew he drank mead in the evenings while he worked, for she’d smelt it on him and seen empty bottles being taken away. The rare times when he had come to share her bed she heard his speech slur and stumble and noticed his grey eyes lose focus. She knew he was trying to blur his disappointment at her coolness, but she dreaded a repeat of that drunken assault and hated the thought of Yul being anything less than in full control of himself.

Bluebell had been always a poor sleeper and now often woke during the night. In the past Yul had been very firm about her staying in her own bed, but now Sylvie found it easier to let the little girl climb into her large empty bed for the rest of the night. It helped keep her ghosts at bay, too. Magus continued to haunt her subtly, usually at night, and Sylvie wondered every day whether it was real or just a figment of her imagination. She’d catch the faintest whiff of his scent which would send her heart racing in panic, terrified to open her eyes in case his smiling face loomed over her. Several times, in the moment between waking and sleeping, she saw a shadow move in the darkness, and Sylvie was sure she heard the creak of a soft footstep in the next room on more than one occasion. Once she’d caught the glimmer of silver hair in the reflection of her mirror and had spent the rest of the night curled up in a ball under the bedcovers, terrified of what else was in the room with her.

There were many small and seemingly insignificant events that began to accumulate into a terrifying catalogue. Sometimes, despite not touching a drop of it since that awful December thirteen years ago, Sylvie awoke with the sweet taste of mead on her tongue. Often, for no logical reason, she’d feel a draught whispering on her skin or stirring her hair, as if Magus were touching her with gentle fingertips. Each one of her senses picked up on Magus’ presence and, as the incidents increased, her fear fed itself, making her jumpy and tense even during the day. There was nobody she could confide in about this; one of her biggest fears was that everyone would believe she’d relapsed back into psychosis.

The rift between Yul and Sylvie didn’t go unnoticed by Miranda, who grew more and more concerned. Only a few months ago everything had been fine, their passion for each other had been almost embarrassingly evident. Many a time she’d intercepted their smouldering glances during public events, sensing the almost tangible synergy that existed between them. But not now. Their discord was palpable and it affected everyone living in the Hall. They’d previously been a beacon of harmony but now shed misery and tension as a dog sheds itself of water, and it was painful to watch.

Miranda tried to speak to Sylvie and see if she could help but she hit a brick wall. Sylvie merely replied that they were both tired and one bad patch in thirteen years wasn’t so bad. Sylvie was close to her mother in many ways but her relationship with Yul had always been private, and it was her very obsession with him that had prevented the mother-daughter bond from deepening. Miranda wondered about speaking to Yul instead, but he’d wrapped himself in an impenetrable black cloak of unhappiness that brooked no intrusion. She was wary of him in his present state of mind; he was like an unexploded bomb and she didn’t want to be the one to detonate him. So Miranda kept her peace and hoped it’d all blow over in the spring, when everyone livened up and there was plenty of sunshine and laughter at Stonewylde.

In the meantime, Miranda had an idea how to cheer her daughter up. After consultation with Harold – as she had to use the Stonewylde account – she went online and bought a pair of tickets for a ballet being performed in Bournemouth. She also booked a luxurious hotel room for the night, thinking that some special time alone may help bring the couple back together. But when she told Sylvie about the treat she didn’t get the expected reaction.

‘Oh Mum, that’s very sweet of you but I couldn’t possibly go.’

‘Why on earth not?’

The thought of spending a whole night alone with Yul in a strange place filled her with dread. She didn’t know what to say to him anymore and if he made any moves in bed she’d feel embarrassed and awkward. But she couldn’t tell Miranda that.

‘He’s too busy at the moment. He works all hours – you know that.’

‘All the more reason to take a night off and spend some time with you! I realise it’s not the most romantic destination but a night alone together away from Stonewylde and all the pressures here is just what you both need. You can enjoy a lovely meal out, enjoy the ballet, go back to the hotel …’

Sylvie knew it was exactly what she didn’t need. Yul would probably drink himself silly and then turn all maudlin on her or, worse still, become aggressive.

‘I’m sorry, Mum, but I really don’t think so. It was a lovely idea though.’

‘So what should I do with the tickets then?’

They both thought about this.

‘Why don’t you go instead?’ suggested Sylvie. ‘I know – you could take Celandine. You know how she loves to dance and she’d adore the ballet, especially
The Nutcracker
. Oh yes, do that!’

But Miranda really wanted Sylvie to have a break so they finally agreed that she’d take the little girl herself. Once she’d grown used to the idea Sylvie became very excited at the thought of going to the Outside World. Apart from a brief shopping trip last year with Yul she hadn’t been out for ages. But Yul was very against the whole thing and tried his best to stop her from going.

‘Give me one good reason why not.’

‘I don’t want you to go. I don’t … I don’t like the thought of you away from Stonewylde.’