The Lost Duchess of Greyden Castle Page 5

  "It is so—huge,” I whispered, clutching my husband's arm. It was not like me to be weak-hearted, but there was just something about the place. Even the cheerfulest heart would have paused at such a sight.

  "This was not the whole of the original castle,” Richard told me. “This was only the keep. Originally the battlements ran out in both directions and made a huge walled rectangle which surrounded the bailey. You may find pieces of the wall even yet. It was let go to disrepair when the constant fighting stopped."

  "Was there much fighting here?” I asked.

  Richard frowned. “I suppose so. It's on the coast. And there were many petty little wars."

  I shivered again, thinking of all the blood spilled, all the lives lost. All the women who mourned and wept. I sighed deeply.

  He looked down into my eyes. “Are you all right, Nessie? The family can be a little overwhelming at times."

  Overwhelming was hardly the word for this horrid family. Still, I only said, “Yes. But if you had warned me, I should have been better prepared."

  "I meant to, but the time never seemed right. You were so happy. And away from here, so was I.” His frown deepened. “I had hoped to make you happy here, too. Caroline hated it, you know. She hated me."

  "Oh, Richard, no!” The pain in his voice was like a stake in my own heart. How could I make Richard love me when he was still mourning her?

  He frowned. “It's true. She told me so many times."

  "She—she must have been angry. That's all. She didn't mean it."

  He laughed, a bitter sound that carried no amusement. “She was angry, yes. But she meant what she said. She hated me."

  "But why?"

  He slipped an arm around my waist, and I felt warmth stealing through me.

  "She was not like other women, Nessie. Not like you. She needed the admiration, the adulation of men."

  His expression grew so wretched that I longed to tell him to stop. I did not want to hear this terrible story, but something bade me hold my tongue and listen. I had to know what had happened.

  "I brought her here, away from that,” he continued. “And so she hated me."

  "But if you knew she hated it..."

  He sighed. “I had no choice. She was becoming the talk of the town. She had taken—taken—"

  It seemed he could not go on. Emboldened by his arm around me, I whispered, “Lovers?"

  He turned, his eyes dark and full of pain. “How did you know?"

  I decided to be truthful. “She always had them—at home. Papa didn't know, but she sneaked out nights sometimes, and she met boys in the woods. From the time she was first grown."

  "I had to put a stop to it,” he said, “and so I brought her here. Away from the city. Away from everyone."

  He looked so distressed that my heart ached for him. It was not good for him. This discussion of Caroline was too painful. It was painful for me, too—the second wife seeing how much he had loved the first. Besides, I had heard all I needed to hear. I decided to change the subject.

  "Can we walk around the castle?” I asked. “I should like to see all of it."

  He favored me with a warm smile. “Of course, my dear. We cannot go all around, but come this way. I'll show you why."

  With his arm around me I would have gone anywhere.

  "The castle is built on the cliffs,” he said as we walked. “It dates from the time of Raleigh. But I told you that."

  He squeezed my waist. “We can go around this way. To the North Tower. The back wall faces the sea. The North Tower looks out over the cliffs."

  I suppressed a shiver and managed a little giggle instead. “Is that the haunted tower?"

  He nodded. “I'm glad you don't believe in such foolishness.” He swung me around to face him. “Oh, Nessie, I'm so glad you're here. My life has been empty for so long."

  "I'm glad, too,” I whispered, raising my face for his kiss. It was a sweet kiss, heartfelt, and I returned it happily, wishing that nightfall would come rapidly.

  But there was a whole long day to be gotten through first, before my husband could come to me and really become my husband.

  Richard released me and took my hand. “You must not go this way alone,” he warned.

  I would not have thought of doing so. Stunted trees and wild grasses pressed in upon the castle, leaving only a narrow stone walkway. It was not a place anyone would wish to go alone, even in broad daylight.

  "It is too dangerous,” Richard continued.

  My thoughts flew immediately to Sarah. I was already thinking as a mother. “The child—"

  "Sarah does not come out alone. Creighton always accompanies her.” He squeezed my fingers again. “Sarah seems to have taken to you. But be careful. My mother and Roland—they have too much influence over her."

  Now was the time, I thought, to ask him why he treated his daughter so coldly. But then we rounded the corner, and I gasped.

  A narrow wooden railing bridged a gap in the ruined wall. That railing was all that kept a person from stepping right over the edge of the walkway and falling to a horrible, smashing death on the sea-washed rocks below.

  In spite of the sparkle of the sea foam, the scene was sinister. I could almost see bruised and broken bodies draped over those rocks.

  I clutched my husband's arm. “Oh, Richard, this is dangerous. Can you not close it off?"

  Richard patted my hand. “Nessie, my dear. I didn't know you were afraid of heights."

  I shook my head. “It is not the height. I had quite a reputation as a tree climber in my childhood. It is just—it looks so—and the rocks—” I felt ridiculous, unable to even voice my fear.

  "Come,” he said. “We'll find the path and go down to the beach."

  I could not stop the shiver. “Down there?"

  "No, dear. That beach is too rocky. But farther on there's a path, and the beach there is sandy. Shall we go?"

  "Of course.” I had followed Richard into this impossible household. Why should I not follow him to the beach?

  The path lay through a wood. I had my shawl, but though it was spring, I wished for my heaviest cloak. The wood was dark and chill, shutting out the sun's light and warmth. And the trees were strange—their branches and exposed roots twisted like creatures in mortal agony. I shuddered, and Richard drew me closer.

  "There's no need to be afraid, Nessie. It's the elements that make the oaks grow so strangely twisted. The soil and the sea wind."

  I nodded, and I did not voice my thoughts that perhaps it was not the elements at all, but the pervasive evil of the castle reaching out to twist all within its purview.

  In a little while we came out of the wood into the sunlight. Then I was glad I had kept my foolish dark thoughts to myself. Just because my husband had a few peculiar relations was no reason for me to start conjecturing evil at every turn.

  The sun was warm on my face. The sand shone like spun gold. The wind and the sea had conspired to pile the sand in graceful sloping dunes. Some were barren and others were dotted with tall, graceful grass. And down by the ocean's edge, the foaming water kissed the golden sand.

  I felt like a child again, released from the prison of the schoolroom. The dark gloom of the castle and its distressing occupants fell away like the shawl I let drop into the sand. I began to run—down toward the golden shore, the sparkling water.

  The sand pulled at my flying feet. The wind blew my hair down into my eyes. My husband called after me, “Nessie, stop!"

  Still I ran, I ran and I ran until the ocean itself stopped me.

  I stood there, panting, drinking in the glory of the sea, the sharp salt tang in the air, the sunlight dancing on the waves.

  Then Richard came panting up beside me. He clasped me to him in an embrace that eliminated what little breath I had left. I struggled to free myself, to breathe properly.

  He looked down into my eyes, and his face was white with terror. “Don't—ever—do that—again,” he gasped.

  I did not under
stand. I frowned. “Do what, Richard?"

  Slowly he regained his breath. “The sand. Don't run."

  I did not like having my simple pleasure criticized. “Why not? Who's to see?"

  "Not see. The sand—quicksand."

  The words struck terror in my heart. Even at home in Wiltshire we had heard stories of the sucking sands that could swallow whole cows and horses.

  "You mean—right here on the beach I could get—” The words would not come.

  Richard had regained his breath. “Yes,” he said. “You could get swallowed up."

  "But can't you tell where it is?"

  He shook his head. “Not always. Sometimes it looks just like the other sand."

  "So inviting,” I murmured.

  "And so dangerous."

  Though the sun was still warm on my skin, I felt a coldness deep inside. In this awful place even beauty was suspect.

  "So you see,” Richard continued, “you must be careful."

  I nodded. “Yes, I shall be.” With determination I pushed away my feelings of foreboding. I had loved Richard long and truly—much longer than he had any reason to believe—and I did not mean for anything whatsoever to come between us.

  Putting a smile on my face, I turned to him. It was then I saw it, looming like a prison house over the golden beauty of the beach—the castle, high on the cliffs.

  Home. I tried to form the word in my mind. In my heart. Greyden Castle was my home. But the idea refused to take root, until Richard looked at me and smiled. I knew then, that for better or worse, wherever Richard was, that was my home.

  His smile grew. It was amazing how much younger he looked when he smiled, like the dashing blade I had first seen and loved.

  "Nessie,” he said. “Let's do something childish."

  I was game for that. It was good to see his eyes light up, to see happiness on his face. He looked more like the Richard I had come to know in Wiltshire while we waited on the banns. “All right,” I agreed. “What shall we do?"

  His eyes danced like the sunlight on the waves. For a moment I imagined the two of us naked on the golden sand. I could almost feel his kisses.

  Then he said, “Let's walk in the ocean.” He frowned, his happiness suddenly fading. “But I forget. You might get your gown wet."

  It was almost as though Caroline had snapped at him. I hated to see the light go out of his eyes. “I have plenty of gowns,” I cried gaily. “Surely a little sea water and sand will not harm this one. I have never walked in the ocean, Richard, and I should very much like to do so with you."

  His smile came back then, and I thought I should walk anywhere, do anything, if only I could make him happy.

  He led me to a comfortable rock, and right there in the sand he knelt and removed my shoes. He looked up at me, his face as sheepish as a boy's. “Perhaps you should do the rest.” While he took off his Hessians, I removed my stockings.

  The sand squished delightfully between my bare toes, warm and comforting. With my husband beside me, I could push the thought of sucking sands from my mind.

  Richard stood up. His bare feet looked strong and masculine. Looking down at my own toes, I felt suddenly undressed, but I pushed the thought away. This man was my husband. Soon he would see much more than my bare toes.

  I stood up, too. “Show me how I must fix my skirt."

  "The fishermen's women do it this way,” he said. He took the back of my skirt and pulled it through my legs and up the front, where he tucked it under my belt. The result was a trifle bulky, but I did not care. I would have run naked on this beach had Richard asked me to.

  "Ready?"

  "Oh, yes!"

  Like two children we ran squealing into the waves.

  It was a wonderful golden hour, the first truly happy time I had spent since I reached the castle. Greyden was still there, of course, looming over us, but I refused to consider it or its baleful influence. I wanted only to be happy with the husband I loved.

  The sun was high in the sky when Richard drew me into his arms and kissed my nose. “Your freckles are coming out,” he said with a laugh. “And I love them."

  If Richard loved them, that was enough for me. “I shall come out into the sun every day, then,” I said pertly. “And soon I shall be nothing but freckles."

  He kissed me again, this time on the lips, and I thought to ask him about the previous night. But the moment was so golden that I hesitated. Why should I ruin this precious time with recrimination? Richard loved me. I could feel it.

  He looked at the sun. “We must be getting back,” he said, his voice heavy with regret.

  I felt as though a dark cloud had passed overhead, but I resolved not to let my fancies take control of my mind. “Yes,” I said. “I promised Sarah I would come to the nursery."

  His expression changed, his eyes went cloudy. “And I shall attend to some things in the village."

  I was not imagining this. I had felt the slight stiffening of his body at the mention of Sarah. But I was too happy to pursue the matter then.

  So we dried our feet as best we could, and I put on my stockings. Richard insisted on kneeling to replace my shoes. As I gazed down at his dark head, my heart overflowed with love for him.

  My happiness carried me through the dark wood, but in the front hall, when Richard dropped a kiss on my forehead, I wanted to throw myself into his arms and beg him to stay with me. I did not do such a childish thing, of course. How he would have stared at me if I had. Instead I smiled pleasantly and wished him godspeed.

  The castle's interior was still grim, the candles still did not give enough light to banish the feeling of gloom that hung over everything, but I would not let that bother me. I was Richard's beloved wife.

  With that thought to armor me, I set out for the nursery. I could have asked the butler for directions, but I did not want to look foolish in front of the servants. As I went up the great stairs, my unfortunate temper took hold again. A good husband would not have run off to the village. He would have stayed to show me around the castle, not left me here to feel like an utter stranger.

  When I realized what I was doing, I tried to laugh at myself. Only moments ago I had been all choked up for love of Richard, and now I was growing angry with him again.

  I hoped Sarah would not become a bone of contention between us, but this matter had to be resolved. Thinking of my papa and the love between us, I was brought almost to tears. It was not decent for a man to treat his child in this strange fashion.

  He had loved his wife, loved her very much. Why did he not love their child?

  I found the nursery without too much trouble. Since the castle was constructed in a great square, I just kept walking. The nursery was below the South Tower, far away from the rooms that Richard and I shared.

  This tower, too, faced the sea. What a strange choice, I thought, putting the child in such a place—and so far from her mother.

  I peeked around the door and announced, “Sarah, I have come to see you as I promised."

  For a moment there was silence. Then an old woman appeared from an inner room. She was slightly bent and wearing black. In the gloom, her eyes seemed to gleam. “Good day, Your Grace."

  "Good day."

  "'Tis sorry I am about the child,” she began.

  "The child?"

  Creighton nodded. “This morning at breakfast. She had to come down to see you."

  I smiled. “That's all right. I wanted to see her, too."

  The nurse's face reflected bewilderment. “He didn't tell you,” she said finally.

  Obviously she was talking about Richard. I disliked gossiping with the servants, but how could I function here if I didn't know what was going on? “Tell me what?” I asked, keeping my voice calm.

  "The child's not to go down there. She's to stay out of his sight. In the nursery."

  This was terrible. I thought of Richard's passion for Caroline, of the way Sarah so resembled her mother. Could the sight of their child be too much for hi
m to bear?

  "But surely, now that the year of mourning is over,” I began.

  "It ain't got to do with mourning,” the nurse said. “'Twas her orders. Since the babe was born."

  "My sister's orders?"

  "Aye."

  Even Caroline could not have been so heartless. “Then she must have come often to see the child."

  The nurse shook her head. “She weren't no more eager to see her than he was. The only one as cares about her is Mr, Roland. Now, there's a good man."

  I was inclined to agree with her, but Richard was my husband. “There must be some reason,” I murmured.

  The nurse shook her head. “All I know is, I got my orders. And I bide by them."

  "Yes, of course. Where is Sarah now?"

  "She's sleeping, Your Grace. She takes a little rest after lunch.” She covered her mouth with her hand. “I usually lays down myself for a while. The haunting babe was noisy last night. Kept me awake."

  I knew I should walk away, but my curiosity overcame me. “Tell me about the haunting babe."

  She nodded. “Whyn't you sit down here by the fire? And I'll tell you all I know."

  I followed her to a chair. The fire gave off little heat, but its glow was cheering.

  Creighton settled into a battered rocker. “'Tis a babe dead afore its time. In the first days, when this castle was new built, the lord sailed off with Raleigh to fight the Spaniards. He left his lady with two young ones and another on the way. When he didn't come back, she lost the child. And after that, the babe could be heard crying."

  She clasped her gnarled hands together. “'Tis said that if a member of the family hears the babe crying three nights running—” her voice fell—"then Death will come calling."

  "Death?” The tale shocked the word out of me.

  "Aye.” She looked around fearfully. “They say she heard it before—before—"

  For a moment I thought I could hear the babe crying. Then I straightened. This nonsense had gone far enough. “I hope you have not told Sarah such fearful stories,” I said, getting to my feet.