Castle of Love Read online

The words came from her in a rush. “My Lord I – I could not sleep. I needed air – I went out to the garden – to the folly, where I often go. I – I saw two people there. Monsieur Fronard and your fiancée Felice. I saw them together in a way that was not – they embraced, my Lord – they kissed – I wish I had not seen it, but – I did and – it cannot be right for them to – I felt you had to know – surely – you had to know.”

  Her voice trailed off. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away with her sleeve.

  “For – forgive me, my Lord.”

  “Forgive you?” The Earl’s voice cut through the air like a blade. “Forgive you, this vicious tittle-tattle? This odious slander? This clumsy attempt to blacken the name of the woman I am to marry?”

  “My – my Lord?”

  The Earl’s face was a study in rage. The brows were thunderous. His unseeing eyes blazed with fury. His words burned into her like acid.

  “Madam, Fronard himself has only just left me. He was at his window and saw you wandering in the garden. He has been much disturbed of late by your behaviour. He expected something of this sort from you. He told me how you have been – watching my fiancée – attempting to undermine her at every turn.”

  “But my L –”

  “DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!”

  He might as well have raised his hand to her. Jacina began to shake before him. The room seemed to dance and turn about her.

  The Earl sensed where she stood and advanced toward her, his harsh words falling like blows.

  “From the first you have displayed a jealousy of her position. Fronard told me how Felice even found you trying to steal the diamond necklace I had given her.”

  “No, no, my Lord,” cried Jacina. “No. That is not –”

  With a cry of anger, the Earl caught at her with one outstretched hand. His fingers settled around her throat. Even now, even though it was in seething fury, his touch made her swoon. She knew at that moment, she would willingly have died by his hand than so utterly lose his affection.

  “Do you deny it?” he hissed.

  His face so close to hers was a strange torture. She closed her eyes.

  “I – deny it – my Lord.”

  His hot breath was upon her cheek. Even as she felt herself yielding in his grasp, the nature of his breathing changed. She opened her eyes.

  There was sudden bewilderment in his unseeing gaze. His fingers on her throat slackened. For one moment – one moment in which her heart almost ceased to beat – his lips came close to hers. Then he loosened his grip and stepped back. He passed a hand across his brow.

  “Be gone, be gone!” he muttered.

  He turned from her and walked unsteadily back to the fire.

  “My Lord,” she murmured, “please, my Lord –”

  He rounded on her with a wild and violent cry.

  “Be gone, I say!”

  Shaken to her very core, Jacina turned and fled.

  *

  Like an animal mortally wounded, she blundered along the corridors. Her breath scarcely sustained her, yet on she ran. Finding almost by instinct the stairway that led to her room, she hung panting for a moment on the banisters, her breast heaving with sobs she dare not utter. Only the sound of a door opening below her gave her the strength to mount.

  The door of her room was ajar. She flung herself across the room and onto her bed. At last she could freely give vent to her feelings. Loud sobs racked her body. She twisted and turned, her fingers clutching now at the counterpane, now at the pillow.

  She could imagine no greater torment.

  The man she so admired – nay, so adored – believed she was no more than a jealous and conniving rival to his fiancée!

  Jacina lay there wrestling with her conscience. Had she for one moment felt relish in going to the Earl with her story? No, she had not! Had she hoped the Earl would cancel the wedding when he heard the truth about Felice? Yes, but she had hoped that for his sake, not her own.

  Had she for a second believed she would benefit from the Earl being disillusioned with his fiancée? No! No one in their right mind could imagine that the heartbroken Earl would turn for comfort to the very woman who had been instrumental in destroying his happiness.

  All she had wished to do was to save the Earl from the clutches of Monsieur Fronard and the woman Jacina now believed was his creature, Felice Delisle.

  That in the process she might inflict a wound on Felice had been, she had to admit this to herself, a source of some satisfaction.

  Not because the Earl loved Felice but because Felice did not love him.

  Jacina moaned as she realised that, whatever her intentions, she had ended up doing more harm than good. Unwittingly, she had helped drive the Earl further into the power of Fronard and Felice.

  The Earl believed Fronard had acted to protect Felice from Jacina’s wicked machinations. He believed Fronard to be honest and Felice innocent. What he believed Jacina to be, broke her heart.

  Her own loud cries of despair frightened her. She turned and buried her face in the pillow. The pillow was soon drenched with tears.

  As if in a sad mirror to her mood, heavy rain began to fall on the castle, the garden, the wood, the copse.

  Jacina barely heard it. She barely heard the wind rising, carrying more rain-swollen clouds over the neighbouring crags.

  The wind tugged at the catch that she had not quite fastened when she closed the window earlier that night. The catch loosened and the window swung wide.

  Chill air began to seep into the room.

  Jacina did not notice. She lay in a daze, the world a shadow to her. She did not notice how numb her feet became in her damp boots. She did not notice how her fingers turned to ice.

  She did not notice how, as the night wore on, fever took its burning grip upon her brow.

  *

  Steeple bells echoed through the frosty air. It was morning. Raindrops glistened on the boughs of trees. Pale yellow sunlight filled the sky and filtered through the stained glass windows of the Ruven family Chapel, where guests had gathered for the wedding.

  The wedding of the Earl of Ruven and Felice Delisle.

  The Earl stood waiting at the altar. Tall and straight, he never once turned to look at the congregation. He seemed lost in his own thoughts.

  Sarah sat at the back of the Chapel, turning her head every time someone entered from the porch. She was looking for Jacina. Jacina had left the nursery last night determined to go to the Earl with her story. She had not returned to tell Sarah what had happened. Sarah did not for one moment doubt that Jacina had indeed gone to the Earl.

  Why then was the wedding still taking place?

  Perhaps the Earl was going to make an announcement at the altar? Sarah dismissed that idea as soon as it entered her head. The Earl was a gentleman. He would never humiliate Felice publicly.

  The truth must be that he was so smitten with his fiancée that he was prepared to marry her no matter what.

  Sarah sighed. Then she turned her head at the sound of whispering by the Chapel door.

  Felice Deslisle was entering on the arm of Monsieur Fronard.

  A gasp swept round the congregation at the sight of Felice. Even Sarah had to admit that she looked beautiful. She was wearing a white satin dress with a long train. Her veil was held in place with a sparkling tiara and the Ruven diamonds gleamed about her long neck.

  At the altar the Earl stiffened. He could hear the rustling of Felice’s train over the old stones of the aisle. He could also hear the steady tread of Fronard.

  Fronard delivered the bride to the altar. Then he stepped into a front pew.

  Sarah watched the ceremony quietly. Her lips pursed when the Earl slipped the ring on his bride’s finger.

  Felice lifted her veil to receive a kiss. Then the couple turned and started back down the aisle. Sarah noticed that as Felice passed Fronard she threw him a quick glance. Her eyes glittered like the diamonds at her throat. Beside her the Earl’s face was set and u
nsmiling.

  The Chapel bells began to ring, loud and clear in jubilation.

  *

  In her room at Castle Ruven, Jacina opened her eyes.

  Why were bells ringing? Was there a wedding? She seemed to remember someone had said there was going to be a wedding. She tried to raise her head, but there was no strength in her at all. Her head fell back on the pillow. Her breath came in gasps.

  Where was her father? He should be told that she did not feel well. Her head was so hot, so very hot. Yet her limbs felt leaden with cold.

  Where was she? She was not at home. No, she was – in a castle. She remembered now. In a castle. Who else was here? Servants. Yes, there were servants. And someone called Sarah. There were other people too – she did not want to remember – she would not remember.

  She fell into a doze. Then she was awake again. She had heard the sound of wheels and horses neighing. Perhaps it was Papa. Oh, she would be so happy to see Papa.

  Then came the sound of cheers. No, it could not be Papa, they would not be cheering for Papa. So who was it? Who was it being welcomed so noisily below?

  An unbidden image floated before her of a tall, dark man with a bride on his arm. Jacina’s head thrashed to and fro on the pillow as if to chase the image from her. She did not want to think about it. Her head was too hot to think. Thoughts hurt her brain. Better to sleep. Just sleep.

  Jacina did not know how long she slept. When she woke again, she woke because a hand was on her brow and a face was bending over her.

  “Mercy me, mercy me,” someone was saying.

  The room was bright. It had the feeling of early afternoon.

  Jacina felt a cool flannel pressed to her forehead. Slowly the figure above her swam into focus and she recognised Sarah.

  “Sarah – I tried – the Earl did not believe me – not believe me –”

  “Hush now, my lovely. Hush now. You are not at all well.”

  Jacina felt Sarah lift her head and urge a beaker to her lips. Jacina took a few sips of a bitter liquid and then sank back upon the pillows.

  Sarah asked Nancy to light a fire in the hearth. Then she got Jacina out of her dress – muddied at the hem from her nocturnal slide into the ditch – and into a clean night-gown.

  Jacina was barely aware of all this.

  Sarah lay Jacina down and tucked the counterpane around her. She then drew a chair up beside the bed and settled down to keep watch.

  Sometimes Jacina slept. Sometimes she started up with a cry or spoke incoherent thoughts.

  Afternoon faded into dusk. Still Sarah sat on. A frown creased her forehead, as she listened to Jacina’s ramblings. Finally she seemed to come to some decision. When Jacina drifted into an uneasy sleep, Sarah tiptoed quietly from the room.

  A misty moon rose at the window.

  Jacina’s eyes opened. She saw the moon and wondered if it was a lamp placed on the sill. There was another lamp shining by the bedside. All seemed a shadow, nothing was real. She turned her head on the pillow as the door was pushed gently open to the sound of someone speaking.

  “Where have you brought me, Sarah? Are we in the nursery? No, we can’t be, we did not climb that high.”

  It was the Earl’s voice.

  Jacina heard it dimly. She recognised it as a voice that had caused her pain. She closed her eyes. She wanted to drift away again into a quiet, dark repose.

  Sarah answered the Earl. “That’s right, we are not in the nursery, Master Hugo. Be patient and you shall know all.”

  The Earl’s tone was bemused. “ I came as you bid, but you must remember the ball begins in less than an hour. I have much to do. What game are you playing with your old charge?”

  “It is no game,” said Sarah grimly. “Come forward, sir. Give me your hand.” Gently but firmly, Sarah guided the hand of the Earl and laid it on Jacina’s hot brow.

  The Earl gave a start. “What’s this?”

  “Your handiwork, Master Hugo.”

  “What do you mean? Who lies here?”

  “Jacina,” said Sarah quietly.

  “Jacina!” cried the Earl, pulling away his hand.

  His voice was so close now, so loud, that it shattered Jacina’s numbed sensibilities. She knew in an instant who was there beside her.

  “My – Lord –” she murmured.

  The Earl gave a groan and staggered back.

  “She is sick, Master Hugo,” said Sarah. “Sick with despair. She came to me last night with what she had seen. She didn’t know what to do, poor creature. T’was I who told her to go to you. I, who’ve had my own suspicions about Felice Delisle. Why should I, your old Nanny, wish you harm? I believed and continue to believe Jacina. She has the truest heart of any I know. And you – a clumsy brute, though it do hurt me to say it and though the saying of it should lose me the roof over my head – you have broke that heart cruelly.”

  The Earl gave another groan and covered his face with his hand.

  Jacina tried to raise herself in the bed. “My – Lord – I did not want – to hurt you. I did not –”

  The Earl felt for her hand.

  “Be calm, now, Jacina. Be calm. I was angry with you but I am angry no longer. I believe you.” He turned to Sarah. “Have you given her anything for this fever?”

  “I have. I will give her more now. It is a potion that works wonders.”

  The Earl nodded. “Good. We will speak more but now I must go. The guests are arriving.”

  He quickly kissed Jacina’s hand before laying it gently down. He then found his way to the door and opened it. His valet stood waiting outside to guide him downstairs.

  “Master Hugo,” Sarah called after him.

  The Earl half turned. “Yes, Sarah?”

  “What will you do, sir, about this business?”

  The Earl’s voice was like steel as he replied. “Rest assured, Sarah, I will deal with the matter. I will deal with the matter this very night.”

  With that, the door closed behind him.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Jacina lay listening as the musicians tuned their instruments in the ballroom below.

  The wedding party in the morning was small, as the Earl had wished, but the ball that evening would be well attended. All the most prominent families of the district were invited.

  Coaches were already rolling up to the castle entrance. There were squeals as ladies gathered up their skirts and hurried to come in out of the rain that had begun to fall.

  Jacina turned her head on her pillow and sighed.

  Her fever had abated since the visit of the Earl. This was partly due to the bitter black potion Sarah had administered and partly due to her enormous relief of spirits, once she knew that the Earl now believed her.

  She had even begun to feel hungry and Sarah had immediately gone to the kitchen to order her some soup.

  The orchestra below struck up a waltz. As Jacina watched the firelight shadows on the wall, they appeared to dance in time to the music. She wished she was recovered enough to go to the ball. Then her brow knit with concern.

  The music was playing and the guests were arriving, but that did not mean all was well!

  She had dimly registered the Earl’s parting words. “I will deal with the matter this very night.” Now these words began to haunt her.

  In what way would the Earl deal with the matter? What could he possibly do tonight when the castle was so full of guests?

  If Felice was in love with Fronard – as she surely was – then why had she still resolved to marry the Earl? The injuries he sustained in India had provided her with the perfect excuse to withdraw from the marriage had she so wished.

  If Fronard was in love with Felice – as he surely was – then why was he happy to see her married off to someone other than himself?

  Could it be that they simply planned to continue their liaison after the marriage, whilst at the same time enjoying all the comforts that the wealth of the Earl would provide?

  At this moment the door
opened and Nancy entered, her face bright red from having run all the way up from the kitchen with her message.

  “I’m to tell you, miss, that Sarah’s decided to make up a broth from fresh. So she’ll be a half hour more.”

  “Thank you, Nancy. Are you busy below?”

  “Oh, miss, it’s bedlam. It’s all got to be ready for supper at nine. What a feast they’ll have though! There’s wild boar – it’s been roasting on a spit all day – and pheasant and jugged hare and oysters. I sneaked away one of them oysters to have a taste but I didn’t like it, miss. It were just a mouthful of seawater.”

  As she chattered Nancy began to sway to the strains of the waltz floating up from the ballroom.

  “Ooh, miss, aren’t them tunes lovely? There’s not been a ball here since I came. The old Earl didn’t go in for them.”

  “Have you seen the ballroom, Nancy?” Jacina asked.

  “I peeped in through the French windows from the garden, miss. It’s like a fairy-tale. There’s hundreds of candles in them – candelabras – and there’s a gold saucer round each candle to catch the drips. Which is a good thing. I heard at the Duchess of Marlcombe’s ball the wax dripped onto the bare shoulders of the ladies below and scalded them something awful.”

  “Did you see the Earl and his – his wife there?”

  “They were greeting guests, miss, at the door. I’d have liked to stay longer but that Monsewer appeared. He lit a cigar and stood there smoking and watching through the windows too. I crept away. I didn’t want him seeing me. He’s a skulker, he is. I was polishing silver in the pantry this morning and there he was skulking inside the gunroom!”

  Jacina sat up with a jolt.

  “The gunroom?”

  “Yes, miss.”

  “Did he – did he take a pistol or anything?”

  “I didn’t see one on him, miss, but what else was he in there for? I don’t trust him one bit, I’d – Oh, Miss Jacina!” Nancy’s hand flew to her mouth. “ Miss Jacina, what are you doing?”

  Jacina had pushed back the bedclothes and slid her legs to the floor. “Getting up,” she said firmly.

  “But what for?” cried Nancy.

  “To go – to the ball,” replied Jacina. She hoped she sounded stronger than she felt.