The Folly (9 page)

Chapter
1
5

Elizabeth stared out of the drawing room window as sheets of water poured endlessly from the gunmetal sky.  It was only mid-morning, but the sky was so dark that she could barely see past the sodden lawn to the tree line in the distance.  She could just barely make out the outline of the folly on the shore of the rain-swollen lake.  It had been raining non-stop for several days, causing Henry to take to his bed with a cold after he got soaked coming home from the village on horseback.   The house was quiet as a tomb
,
and Elizabeth looked around in dismay
,
desperate for something to occupy her time.  She had tried reading, but found herself unable to concentrate
,
and the thought of needlepoint made her kick her work basket in frustration. 

Elizabeth
turned away from the window as she heard footsteps echoing on the parquet floor.  It could only be Jeremy, since Henry was abed and she tried not to look too eager as he walked into the room. 

“Good morning, Elizabeth.  I hear Father is still unwell.”  Jeremy leaned against the cold fireplace, giving
Elizabeth
a lazy smile. 

“I checked on him this morning and he seems to be feeling better.  He
’
s still upset with me, I
’
m afraid.”  Henry did not take kindly to
Elizabeth
refusing to return to London with Rosamunde.  Normally, she would have jumped at the chance, but the thought of leaving Jeremy held her back.  Leaving Jeremy and Henry alone together for any length of time was sure to drive Jeremy away
,
and the thought of losing him made Elizabeth’s stomach clench with anxiety.  “I must admit, this weather makes me feel very melancholy.” 

“You remind me of my mother.  She hated rainy days.  She would just wander from room to room.  Sometimes, when she was particularly sad, she would tell me stories of her life in London before she met Father, but he didn’t like that.  She was a famous actress, you know.  That was my father’s shameful secret –
-
he married for love.  As you might imagine, the ladies
of the parish didn
’
t welcome her with open arms when my father brought her here.  It was quite the scandal.”  Jeremy smiled, amused my Elizabeth’s surprise.  “He never told you, did he?  Actually, my family has a very scandalous past, which I
’
m sure my father never mentioned.” 

Elizabeth
settled herself on a fainting couch across from Jeremy.  Henry never told her anything of his first wife
,
and she knew very little of the family she married into.  Other than Rosamunde, there were no relatives.  There was a distant cousin somewhere in Yorkshire, but Henry never mentioned him either.  “I love a juicy scandal.  Tell me more
, dear Captain,
”
she said saucily, smiling up at him.

“All right, but don’t tell Father,” Jeremy
answered, grinning
.  “When I was a boy, I used to sneak down to the kitchen on rainy days after I was done with my lessons.  We had a different cook then.  Her name was Mrs. Reynolds and her family has lived in these parts for centuries.  She must have been in her mid-forties, but she seemed quite old to me at the time.  She was a kind woman
,
and never asked me to leave or complained to my tutor.  I would sit down at the table with a hot bun and a glass of milk
,
and she would tell me stories while she went about her work.  She told me things that I would never
have
learned otherwise, like the fact that my mother had been an actress.  It was only after I confronted Mother that she admitted to the truth.  Father forbade her to tell me.”

“I can’t imagine why,” said
Elizabeth
with mock innocence
.  She wondered what Henry’s reaction would be if she asked him about his late wife’s past. 
“Were there other scandals?” 

“Oh, yes
, but I
’
m not sure I should divulge them all at once.”  Elizabeth knew he was teasing her and refused to give up.  “Since I have married into this scandalous family, I think I have a right to know about the skeletons in the cupboard
.
  If you don’t tell me, I
’
ll just have to find out for myself.”

Jeremy pretended to look exasperated, but then settled down on a sofa across from her, ready to tell her the story.  “
I
’
m not sure if you are aware, but Flynn is an Irish surname, which is another thing Father would like to forget.  This estate used to belong to a family named Baxter back in the
sixteenth
c
entury.  They weren’t titled, but they were wealthy and well
-
respected
in these parts
.  Mr. Baxter was a widower with a lovely daughter.  It seems that he truly loved his wife
,
and after her passing
,
took to spending time drinking and dicing at the local tavern. 
Now, this is not an u
nu
sual thing for men to do, but apparently Mr. Baxter couldn’t stop. 
He just couldn’t walk away when the losses got too great. 

One day he got so inebriated that he lost the estate
,
and his daughter
,
to an Irish captain named Liam Flynn, who’d heard about Baxter’s compulsive gambling and couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take him for everything he had.  The next day when Baxter sobered up, he begged Flynn to allow him to repay him in other ways, but Flynn would not be reasoned with.  He thought it was fair payback for all the Irish land taken by the English.  Flynn married Marion Baxter and took up residence at the manor, which he renamed Flynn Manor, in honor of himself.  Being Irish, he was a Roman Catholic and had a secret chapel behind the wine cellar.  It’s still there.”

Elizabeth gave Jeremy a doubting look.  “Is that really true?  That’s quite a tall tale.”

“That’s what Mrs. Reynolds told me and I
’
ve seen the family Bible.  The marriage between Liam Flynn and Marion Baxter is duly recorded.  They had four children, three of whom survived.”

“How did he get the title?”  Elizabeth could see how Henry, who was so proud of his standing, neglected to tell her any of this.

“Flynn won the estate
from Baxter
during the reign of Elizabeth I, but it wasn’t until after the death of Elizabeth that
the
Flynns got the title.  By that time
,
it was Liam’s grandson who owned the house
,
and he saw his opportunity when James I began to sell baronetcies to raise money for his war against the Irish.  Flynn bought the title, becoming the first Sir Robert Flynn, Baronet.

According to Mrs. Reynolds, he was a very uptight gentleman
,
who supported the Roundheads during the Civil War.  He was a devout Puritan and an intimate of Oliver Cromwell.  Sir
Robert’s son, however, was a completely different story.  He was my grandfather, Jules. 

Robert forced his religious views on the family, but as soon as he died, all pretense at puritanism was abandoned.  Jules was frequently at
C
ourt once Charles II was restored to the throne and only left London after the Great Plague broke out in 1665.  Jules returned to the country and lived in this house until he died.  On the surface
,
he was a very respectable gentleman, but he did have a hobby.  It seems that Jules did a bit of smuggling on the side to supplement the family finances.  There was a tunnel from the cellar to a cave on the beach where the smugglers used to hide caskets of brandy and French wine.  Jules turned a blind eye to them storing contraband on his estate
,
in exchange for a share of the loot and a cut of the profits, so you see; I come from a very disreputable family.” 

“Hmm.  I should seriously reconsider my association with you.  Lord only knows what you
’
re capable of.  Luckily for you, I am not easily shocked,” said Elizabeth, thinking about what Jeremy had just told her.  “Can you show me the chapel and the tunnel?”

“Part of the tunnel collapsed some years before I was even born, but the chapel is still there. 
It hasn’t been used since the seventeenth c
entury when the family officially became Puritan.”

“Can I see it?”  Elizabeth wasn’t particularly interested in Popish practices, but the idea of a secret chapel beneath her feet really intrigued her.  She had no idea Flynn Manor had such a history.  No wonder Henry
n
ever told her anything of his ancestors. 
He was far too pompous to find any humor in his family history.

“We’ll need an oil lamp.  It’s dark as pitch down there.  I know Father prefers candles, but is there a lamp somewhere?” 

“There
’s
one in his study.  I think he
’
s starting to like it.”  Elizabeth was already half-way out the door, heading for Henry’s study. 

“Get the lamp and meet me in the drawing room.  I just need to get something from my room,” Jeremy said as he headed toward the wide staircase leading to the upper floors.

**

Jeremy suggested waiting until the staff was having their midday meal in the servants’ hall before heading down to the cellars.  If they were seen, someone would be sure to report the news to Henry, such as his valet, Jones, who was always looking for ways to ingratiate himself with his master.  Henry wouldn
’
t be please
d
to learn what his wife and son were up to. 

The steps leading down to the cellar were worn with age
,
and
Elizabeth
had to hold on to Jeremy’s arm to avoid slipping on the smooth stone in her kid slippers.  Jeremy pulled a large, iron key out of his pocket and inserted it into the well-oiled lock.  Elizabeth had quite forgotten that the cellar was kept locked, with only the butler having permission to go in and select wine to accompany their meals. 

“Where did you get the key?”  Elizabeth whispered.  “Did you steal it from the butler’s pantry?”

“I did.  I was twelve
,
and Graves had to deal with my father’s wrath when he discovered the key was missing.  He never suspected that I was the one who took it.  I felt very guilty, actually
, but my guilt was quickly forgotten once I got my hands on a bottle of wine
.”  Jeremy pushed open the door and led
Elizabeth
inside the cavernous space.

“Why did you take the key?”

“I wanted to find the chapel that Cook told me about and show it to Simon.  I
’
d come down here when the servants weren’t about and steal wine for our picnics in the smuggler’s cave.  It was our secret meeting place.  Cook would make me some sandwiches
,
and Simon and I would go to the cave and pretend we were smugglers, feasting to celebrate our safe return and drinking our smuggled wine.  Luckily, we never got caught.”

“I can see that the desire f
or scandal runs in your blood.  Is there anything else I should know about you?” she teased. 

“Nothing at all.  I
’
ve led a monk’s
existence
since leaving school.”

  Jeremy smiled at
Elizabeth
as he led her
through the wine cellar.  The walls were lined with racks, filled with hundreds of dusty bottles.  They filled the entire space from the floor to the low vaulted ceiling, leaving only a narrow flagstone path between them.  The air was close and damp and Elizabeth suddenly felt as if she couldn’t breath
e
.  “Where is it?”  She just wanted to see it and leave.

“It’s behind the far wall.”  Jeremy took her hand, sensing her anxiety.  Finally, the weak light of the oil lamp reached the back wall, bringing a small, arched door into view.  The door wasn’t locked, but the wood had warped with age and
swollen
from the damp, making it difficult to open.  Jeremy put his shoulder to the door
,
maganing
to open it just enough for them to enter one by one.  He went in first, lighting the chamber
with the oil lamp
, followed by Elizabeth. 

The room was small and square, made of roughhewn stone that looked almost black in the gloom.  There were two narrow benches positioned in front of a wooden altar
,
covered with a threadbare, yellowed altar cloth.  It must have been pretty once because the delicate embroidery of flowers and vines was still visible in
some
places.  A large crucifix hung above the altar, flanked by two small paintings covered with centuries of grime.  Elizabeth took the lamp from Jeremy and approached to take a closer look.  Both paintings were of the Virgin Mary.  In one, she sat serenely on a large rock, holding baby Jesus, their heads surrounded by golden halos, and in the other, she cradled the bleeding body of her son after he had been taken down from the cross, her face contorted with anguish.