Carisbrooke Abbey (7 page)

‘I will have tea, please,’ she said hurriedly as Lund was about to leave the room.

‘Tea?’ he asked gloomily.

‘Yes, please, tea,’ she said firmly. She must have a drink of some sort, and she could not possibly drink the ale. ‘You do have tea?’ she asked, when he made no move.

‘Aye, we do,’ he said grudgingly.

‘Then I will have a pot, please.’

Still muttering, he left the room.

Hilary sat down and looked at the beef. It was such a large hunk she did not know what to do with it. She was used to having her meat sliced thin, if she had it at all, but this slab would have fed a wolfhound!

Still, she must be grateful she had anything to eat. She picked up her knife and fork ...  and then set them down again as she heard the sound of the heavy front door opening and closing. Footsteps crossed the stone-flagged hall, and Lord Carisbrooke entered the room.

He was looking vigorous. His pallor of the night before had disappeared, and had been replaced by a healthy colour. His large body was encased in his usual badly-fitting clothes, but even so she could not help noticing the splendour of his enormous frame. He was a good match for the abbey. Both were magnificent. And both were forbidding.

It was the grizzled hair at his temples that made Lord Carisbrooke seem so, she realized. But beneath the forbidding demeanour she sensed something else, a sorrow deep inside him that his wealth and position could not counteract. She could see it in his eyes. What lay behind his gruff manner? she wondered. And why was he so averse to having a woman at the abbey? Was it because ....

But she was becoming fanciful again. Chiding herself for having too much imagination, she bade him a down-to-earth, ‘Good morning.’

 He returned her greeting gruffly.

Knowing that she might not see him again before she left, she said, ‘I will be leaving today, and in case I don’t have a chance to speak to you again I would like to thank you for your hospitality.’

‘My
hospitality
?’ he rumbled, with a lift of his shaggy eyebrows. ‘That is a strange word for it!’ A spark of humour lit his eye. Then it was extinguished, and something darker took its place. ‘As to your leaving the abbey, it’s impossible.’

Had he decided to appoint her? she wondered. She felt a mixture of emotions. She would certainly be relieved if she did not have to look for another position, but the atmospheric abbey disturbed her ... and so did its enigmatic owner.

His next words dispelled her hopes, however.

‘The river’s flooded,’ he said. ‘The ford’s impassable. You won’t be going anywhere.’

This was a blow. Not only was she not to be appointed, but she could not leave the abbey to look for work elsewhere.

‘Is there no way across? Surely there is a bridge?’

‘There is. But it won’t take a coach, and you cannot walk far.’

‘Is there no other way out?’ she queried.

‘None.’ He spoke gruffly, and sounded as unwilling to have her as she was to remain.

He threw his gloves on to the table. Then he noticed her platter.

‘What’s that?’

‘Breakfast,’ she said.

She could not help it. As she looked at the plate of beef and the tankard of ale, her mouth twitched.

‘Breakfast?’

He looked irritated, and then to her surprise he laughed.

It was a rumbling sound and she found it very appealing. It made her think of the sea. It was deep and powerful.

But it was also dangerous.

‘I take it this was Lund’s idea, not yours?’ he asked.

She nodded.

His mood sobered, and she had the feeling that his thoughts had wandered from her breakfast to Lund, and thence down some dark pathway she could not follow.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

The words were out before she had time to think about them. She had no right to pry into Lord Carisbrooke’s private life. But he had looked so haunted that she had wanted to reach out to him.

He looked at her, his eyes gazing into her own, and for a moment she thought he was going to tell her what it was that troubled him. Then the shutters came down. ‘You’d better have something else to eat,’ he growled.

He crossed to the fireplace and pulled a large bell rope hanging next to it. Somewhere below them, a bell clanged.

Hilary wanted to speak in order to dispel the tense atmosphere that had surrounded them, but Lord Carisbrooke’s look was not inviting. He had withdrawn from her, and she dare not venture a remark.

They remained silent. Hilary sat at the large oak table and Lord Carisbrooke stood in front of the massive stone fireplace, until Lund entered the room.

‘Some hot rolls for Miss Wentworth,’ Lord Carisbrooke growled, ‘and chocolate.’

‘I’ve brought her tea,’ Lund complained.

‘Tea will do very well. I asked for it,’ she explained to Lord Carisbrooke.

‘Very well. But rolls, Lund, and look sharp about it.’

Having deposited the pot of tea on the table, Lund retreated, grumbling, to fetch some hot rolls.

Hilary’s thoughts returned to Lord Carisbrooke’s assertion that she would have to remain at the abbey. She had been thinking it over in the long silence, and the more she thought about it, the more she didn’t like the idea. Lord Carisbrooke was a man of strange moods, but even so she was drawn to him. Disturbed by her uncontrollable feelings, she felt it would be better if she removed herself from his vicinity.

‘How long do you think it will take for the ford to become passable?’ she asked him.

He turned to face her, eyeing her from beneath drawn-down brows. ‘Eager to get away?’

Whether he was teasing her, or whether he was annoyed she could not say. She could read neither his tone of voice nor his expression.

‘There is no reason for me to stay.’

He regarded her steadily. ‘It’s impossible to say. It depends on the weather. If it continues to rain you could be here for a week.’

She shivered. The prospect was not inviting.

‘If the Red Room isn’t good enough for you, you can choose another one,’ he growled, with some relenting of his manner.

‘Thank you. I think, however, I would rather remain there.’ Although the room was cavernous, it had the advantage of being familiar. ‘Once I’ve removed the rest of the dust sheets and opened the windows to let in some fresh air, I think it will be very pleasant.’

He looked disbelieving, but said, ‘Very well.’

Lund re-entered the room with a platter of hot rolls. Lord Carisbrooke glanced at them, evidently satisfied.

‘You can explore the abbey if you wish to do so,’ he said, ‘but you are not to venture out into the grounds.’

Hilary was startled by his strange edict.

But before she had time to reply, he said, ‘I’ll leave you to your breakfast,’ and strode out of the room.

Hilary set about removing the rest of the dust sheets from the furniture in her chamber with a will. It was nine o’clock, and after finishing her breakfast she had decided to try and make the room as cosy as possible. She took the large sheets from the furniture carefully, so as not to disturb the dust that had settled on them, and stacked them in the corner of the room. She uncovered another small oak table, which she set on the other side of the bed; a wardrobe; and an elaborately carved settle, which she pulled, with some difficulty, to the foot of the bed. She stood up, straightening her back, and examined her handiwork. The room already looked much better, though it could not be said to appear comfortable. The heavy oak furniture was in the Gothic style with pinnacles and sharp points. The settle in particular looked more like a church pew than a homely seat, and, like the rest of the furniture, had been designed for display rather than comfort. But it had an austere beauty about it, and she hoped that when her few personal items were added, the room would have a softer feel.

She arranged her silver comb on the dressing-table, thinking fondly of her mother as she did so, and set her silver-backed hand mirror beside it. Her father had bought them for her mother when her parents had been first married, and on her mother’s death they had passed to Hilary. She continued to unpack her portmanteau, taking out her two dresses and shabby petticoat. She was going to hang them in the wardrobe, together with her pelisse, but when she opened it it was musty, and so she arranged her clothes over the back of the settle instead. It only remained for her to put her novel on the table by the bed, and set her half boots by the fire, and she was done. She looked round the room again. It could not be called home-like, but it was more welcoming than it had been before she had started her work.

A gleam of sunshine falling through the stained glass window awoke her to the fact that the rain had stopped. The clouds were still low and heavy, but there was a small break where the sun shone through. She was tempted to venture out for a walk. Her ankle was still a little sore, but set against this was her desire for fresh air. If she did not put her weight on her foot, and did not go too far, it should not cause her too much discomfort.

She thought of Lord Carisbrooke’s command that she should not venture out into the grounds but decided to ignore it. There could be no reason for it, other than curmudgeonliness, and she had no intention of letting his bad temper deprive her of some exercise.

Taking heart from the break in the weather she put on her pelisse and bonnet then pulled on her gloves. She went downstairs and out into the grounds.

A brisk wind was blowing, sending the clouds scudding across the sky. Despite the present pause in the rain, the bad weather looked set to last. As she followed the gravel path that skirted the abbey, separating it from its wide lawns and untidy shrubberies, she wondered how high the river had risen overnight. She decided to turn her footsteps in that direction. Although she could not see it, she could hear its steady rushing noise, and was in no doubt as to where it lay. She had hardly turned towards it, however, when she saw a young lady coming along the path towards her.

Who ... ? she thought in surprise, as her eyes ran over the young lady’s beautiful face, voluptuous figure, and wonderful clothes. She had not expected to meet anyone on her walk, and certainly not another woman.

Her eyes lingered on the young lady’s dress. It was truly exquisite. Made of the finest lace, it looked as though it had come straight out of a fashion plate. Its low-cut bodice was decorated with pink ribbon, and  its skirt, falling from a high waist, flowed effortlessly round the young lady’s figure before falling in soft folds to the floor. Hilary could not help comparing it to her own dress, which sat lumpishly around her.

So engrossed was she in the details of the beautiful dress that Hilary did not at first find it odd that a fashionable young lady should be wearing evening dress in the middle of the morning. Or that she should be walking out of doors on a cold November day without so much as a pelisse.

‘Hello,’ the young lady said, with easy, unaffected manners. ‘I don’t believe I know you. I’m Esmerelda.’

Esmerelda’s face was as enchanting as her gown. Her eyes were large and expressive, and her skin was like porcelain. Her nose was short and retroussé, and her mouth was beautifully-shaped. Abundant hair was piled in dark coils on top of her head.

‘I’m Hilary,’ said Hilary. Adding, ‘Miss Wentworth.’

‘Ah!’ said Esmerelda mischievously. ‘We are to be formal, then. Very well. I am Miss Varons. How do you do. You are going for a walk, I see. May I go with you?’

‘Of course.’ The two ladies fell into step. ‘I didn’t know you lived at the abbey,’ said Hilary, wondering whether the enchanting young lady could be a relative of Lund’s, a niece, perhaps, or a granddaughter; although the thought of the dour Lund being related to this beautiful creature seemed ridiculous.

‘Oh, I don’t,’ said Esmerelda. ‘I’m a guest at the rectory. I have just walked over here. I was tired of being cooped up by the rain.’

‘But I thought the roads were flooded,’ Hilary protested, before remembering that Lord Carisbrooke had said there was a foot bridge.

Esmerelda smiled, then said, ‘It has been a pleasure meeting you, Miss Wentworth, but I’m afraid I must leave you now.’

And so saying, she turned and walked back the way she had come.

How strange, thought Hilary. Esmerelda had departed very suddenly. And yet she knew that beautiful young ladies were often capricious, particularly if they were also wealthy. Esmerelda had obviously spent as much time as she meant to on a plain and dowdy librarian.

Dismissing Esmerelda’s sudden departure from her mind, she continued on her way towards the river. As she did so, her eyes roamed over the small trees and large bushes that comprised the tangled shrubbery surrounding the abbey.

To her surprise, she noticed something unusual: a pinnacle, rising out of the rhododendrons. What could it be? She hesitated. Curiosity prompted her to investigate, but concern for her ankle, which was starting to ache, prompted caution. In the end, curiosity won. Limping slightly so as to favour her sound foot, she followed a path through the shrubbery, coming at last to a clearing.

In the middle of it was a folly. She had seen pictures of such buildings in her uncle’s library. He had been fond of architecture, and had had a great many books on the subject, but she had never seen one in actuality before. It was built in the style of a ruined temple, with tumbledown walls and a gaping roof. Ivy, whether by art or nature, trailed gracefully over the walls. Tall grasses grew between them, and around them grew thorn bushes. But despite the folly’s dilapidated state it was elegant and beautiful, its ruination carefully contrived so as to be picturesque.

She was just contemplating a particularly lovely stone, beautifully weathered and covered in moss, when a flock of starlings, startled by a noise, rose into the air. Turning round she saw Lord Carisbrooke.

‘Hell’s teeth! What are you doing here?’ he growled, his brows drawing together forbiddingly. ‘Get inside at once.’

Her anger rose. ‘I will not be spoken to in such a manner,’ she returned. ‘And as for going inside, I will do no such thing. I will return to the abbey when I am ready to do so, and not before.’