I forced myself to move and went back into the apartment, locking the door behind me. I still heard clanking. This time I was sure it was coming from upstairs in the bedchamber tower. I followed it to the big wooden doors leading into the tower. I sucked in a deep breath, ready for my first ghost sighting. I threw open the doors and flipped on the light. All was calm in the western suite. If someone had been clanking about, it wasn't the empty suit of armor outside the duchess suite.
I closed up and retreated back downstairs. Fortunately, Olive had left me security's number. I took a deep breath and called the non-emergency number.
"Duchess? This is dispatch, how may I help you?" The voice on the other end was male, strong, and reassuring, in part because it was human.
"I heard a clanking sound in the castle, just on the other side of the door from my private apartment. I know it's silly," I said. "But can you take a look at the cameras and see if there's anything there that shouldn't be?"
To their credit, dispatch took me seriously and weren't patronizing. I stayed on the phone while they looked at the cameras and reported back.
"Nothing out of the ordinary, duchess."
I blew out a breath. "Thank you for checking. I feel silly—"
"Don't feel silly, ma'am. That's what we're here for. If there had been someone there, we would appreciate being notified. Though our system is very thorough, and it would be highly unlikely someone could get past us unnoticed."
"Yes, of course."
"You're at the castle by yourself tonight, duchess?" The voice remained friendly and calming.
"Yes. How did you know?"
"Olive told us," he said. "That old castle is full of clanks and sighs. When you're by yourself, they seem to magnify. I'll send someone round to make a check, just in case, if it will put your mind at ease."
"Yes, thank you. I'd appreciate it." With that, I hung up and went back to bed, clutching my cold candlestick for comfort. It wasn't the kind of stick I'd hoped to be clutching, but it was better than nothing. At least I was armed.
In the morning, I woke before the crack of dawn, determined. If Noah was going to be in London on business, leaving me all alone, I wanted a dog. A ghost-detecting dog. But it had to be cuddly, and cute, and fiercely brave and loyal. If such a dog existed, this was surely the country to find one.
I showered and dressed. After the harrowing night, I needed to get out of the castle and think. I longed for a walk to clear my mind. Even after procrastinating, it was only a little before six when I set out. I locked up and headed to the hotel for breakfast. Fortunately, I was a prodigious walker, and the morning twilight was clear but nippy, perfect for walking as the sun came up.
I followed the walking directions on the GPS on my phone, taking my time and enjoying the beauty of the estate. I arrived at the hotel, refreshed, but with slightly frizzy hair from the humidity and no clearer picture on whether I'd made the right move marrying Noah. Or could face another night alone in the castle. I was suddenly homesick already.
The hotel, a quaint stone building from yet another era, was warm and smelled delightfully like sausage, eggs, coffee, and toast when I stepped in. The front desk was on one side of the lobby, the breakfast room and café on the other.
The woman at the reception desk looked up when I entered. "May I help you?"
"Table for one." I held up a finger.
"We're serving breakfast now." She pointed to the breakfast room. "Take any seat you like."
It was a small crowd this early, just a few villagers stopping by for a chat over coffee or tea before they started their day, I assumed. And a couple of tourists up early to get a jump on sightseeing.
I took a seat at a small table by the window with a view out over a flower box filled with blooming spring bulbs. A waitress appeared and took my order—the full English and coffee. She brought me a cup and poured my coffee immediately. I made a mental note that this place needed some pizzazz. And signature coffee. Something made with candied rose petals from the castle gardens and fresh cream from a local farm. A rose latte made with a rich single-origin bean ground fresh here. My food scientist's mind never stopped turning and creating.
I was enjoying my coffee and solitude in a space with other people, when a stocky, outdoorsy man in his mid-forties stopped in front of my table. He was dressed in a camo jacket and pants and heavy boots and had a friendly smile. "Pardon the interruption, but you must be the new duchess?"
I froze with my cup halfway to my mouth—I'd been recognized. So much for incognito. The room went suddenly quiet. Even the grill seemed to shush.
"I am," I said. There was no way to deny it now.
"Ah! I thought you must be. The duke showed me your picture before he left for London several days ago. I knew we were expecting you soon."
I was stupidly pleased Noah was showing my picture around. The room suddenly buzzed with low whispers and excitement. I was sure the word of my arrival would spread quickly throughout the village. And those who'd had first glimpse of me would have bragging rights.
"Luke Gill, your gamekeeper."
"Oh! Mr. Gill." I broke into a smile. "You're on my list of people to meet and talk to."
"Gill, duchess. I'm supposed to give you a tour of the deer park and forests of the estate as soon as you can fit it into your schedule, I believe," he said with a teasing grin.
"I believe you are." I was immediately charmed by him.
"Are you here by yourself, then?" he asked. "The duke isn't about?"
"Noah's still in London. Unavoidably detained. Meetings."
A fleeting scowl crossed Gill's face. He composed himself quickly, and the friendly look was back. "Ah, the endless meetings, is it? The curse of running a business like the estate. Lady Bret keeping him busy, is she?"
"Lady Bret?" Maybe it was a mistake to let my ignorance show. But who the hell was Lady Bret? And why had Noah never mentioned her before?
"Old Hardly's financial and business manager. She's an ambitious creature in every respect, if you take my meaning. Daughter of an earl and looking to improve her social standing. Granddaughter of one of the late duke's love interests from his youth and an old family friend. Very beautiful. Like her granny was. There's a portrait of her granny in the castle. She was, at one time, reportedly one of England's most beautiful women. And an equal match for the late duke at the time.
"Old Hardly liked being surrounded by beauty. He was quite the rake in his youth. He and his two mates—the dukes of Manly and Axton. A trio of trouble, they were. That's what my granny called them. Manly's passed now. The late duke never got over being past his prime and his hell-raking days."
I realized, rather abruptly, that Gill was warning me about Lady Bret. "Care to join me, Gill? If you're not busy. I'd love to hear more about the estate." And Lady Bret. "Buy you a cup of coffee and some breakfast?"
"Never too busy for the duchess." He pulled out a chair. "Coffee and breakfast are what I came in here for." He signaled the waitress. "The usual." He returned his attention to me as the waitress served him coffee. "When did you arrive, duchess?"
"Yesterday evening. Rogers drove me out from Heathrow."
"Rogers. Good man." Gill took a sip of coffee. "I didn't see your car in the hotel car park. Did Rogers drop you off?"
"No," I said. "I walked over from the castle. After last night, I needed fresh air to clear my head. I'm afraid my imagination ran away with me." I related my story of the clanking, trying to find the humor in it.
Gill chuckled and smiled broadly. "I'd be worried if the castle didn't spark your imagination, duchess. People without imagination are very boring indeed. And that clanking you heard, it's the most common haunting reported by tourists and staff alike."
He blew on his coffee and took a sip. "It's good for business, if nothing else. So no one likes to correct them and tell them it's probably just the furnace or the old castle's ancient bones groaning. Better to play it up as a feature. More profitable for the estate
for those paying to be scared to imagine it's one of the knights unable to go to his eternal rest.
"The castle has a nasty enough history to support more than a few hauntings, as you would suppose it would. With enough knights among them to be the culprit. The castle's been standing since something like 1092. The Marston family has been ruthless about keeping it. The last duke was no different."
It was hard to tell for certain, but it didn't look to me like Gill was joking just now. "Are you warning me about joining such an ambitious family, Gill? If so, you're a few weeks too late."
He shrugged, clearly enjoying telling his stories. "I'm sure you'll be very happy, duchess." He didn't sound entirely convincing.
"And why wouldn't I be?" I asked lightly. But I felt a shiver run down my spine. Noah had certainly inherited the Marston ambition.
"Exactly, your grace," Gill said. "I'd be on my guard, though. Regarding the late duke. I wouldn't know if old Hardly left any traps for you to fall into. I wasn't in his confidence in those matters. As long as I put venison and duck on his table, he was happy. But I will say this—the Marston family has had ruthlessness and drive bred into them throughout centuries. As a student of animal husbandry, I believe in breeding. Look what traits we can breed into dogs, for example. Mankind is really no different, is it?"
I murmured something noncommittal.
"It's well known around here that the late duke was not pleased with your husband's father and older brother as his heirs. I heard him say, in quite the acidic tone, more than once, that your late father-in-law would sell the castle before the duke was even cold in his grave. Old Hardly was determined to prevent that.
"It may be pure coincidence, but the convenient timing of their deaths has been much discussed around here. All I'm saying is mind your step, duchess. Just because old Hardly is dead doesn't mean he can't reach from beyond the grave to make sure his wishes are followed. With dire consequences if they aren't."
He paused for another sip of coffee. "And I don't mean reaching in ghostly form and rattling armor. His legacy was king and god to him. He'd be the first apparition I'd watch out for. He, and any of his agents, including Lady Bret."
I didn't know what to make of Gill's brash warning. Before I could think on it too hard, the waitress arrived with our breakfasts, interrupting him from saying more. I leaned back to give her room to set my meal in front of me. Quick service for the duchess and her guest. Now we'd see if the food was any good. I picked up my fork.
"Any other ghosts I should be aware of?" I asked.
"Well, your grace, the castle is reportedly full of them. We have our own tower mystery at Hardison Castle, like that of the princes who went missing during the War of the Roses, reportedly murdered by their uncle, Richard III."
A chill went through me. "Which tower? And what are you talking about?"
"The tower with the duke and duchess's suite. But the lower floor, not the floor with the bedroom suites. Those have supposedly been examined by ghost hunters and certified ghost-free by the late duke's father, who was into the spiritual. Which is why the late duke insisted on keeping them as part of the apartments he made for himself. It was easier to sleep at night without fear of being wakened by an apparition."
"I felt a chill in the sitting room between the duke and duchess's rooms," I said, feeling that Gill was enough of a friend that I could share a confidence with him. "Noah said he's felt it, too."
"A draft, duchess."
I shook my head. "I know a draft when I feel it. I looked around for the source—nothing. No open windows. The furnace wasn't on. It wasn't that kind of cold. It was more an icy sensation in the soul. Like someone has just walked over your grave." I waited for Gill to laugh or pooh-pooh me.
But he studied me and took the matter seriously. "I may be mistaken, then, about the entire floor not being haunted. I know for certain that the duke's room was cleared as ghost-free. I've seen the record of it. Old Hardly showed me. It may have only been public perception and rumor that the entire floor of the turret was cleared."
This wasn't good news, exactly. To distract myself, I took a bite of eggs, ignoring the stewed tomatoes. The eggs were pretty good. "You seem to know a lot about the castle history."
"I should." He dug into his sausages. "I grew up on the stories. My granny was quite the storyteller. She passed down the stories that were oral tradition around here. My family has lived on the estate for hundreds of years. Nearly as long as the Marston family, if my family stories are true."
"Since you seem to know so much, then, I'll bite—who disappeared in the tower?" Better to at least know who your enemies, or ghosts, were.
That devilish grin reappeared. "For that, you need a little English history—the powerful dukes of the region met at Hardison on their way to Runnymede to meet King John to seal the Magna Carta." Pride shone on his face. "That was the first of many times Hardison Castle made the history books. And that is when the tragedy began."
"Now you have my full interest, Gill. That's almost as good as 'it was a dark and stormy night.' Why do I feel like a girl at story time at the library?"
His grin deepened. "It does have a rather nice ring. Back to our history. While the lord of the castle was away making demands of King John for swift justice and lower taxes, he left his castle only loosely guarded by a small band of supposedly loyal knights. The story goes that a neighboring lord coveted the duchess and had been mad with lust for her since well before she was wed to the Duke of Hardison. With the castle left less fortified than usual, and possibly a knight he could bribe, he managed to slip in and into the duchess. He raped her, so the story goes. And tried to convince her to run off with him, offering her his protection.
"No one really knows how much consent was, or was not, given by the duchess. The narratives vary here, with some saying the lord attempted to kidnap her, but was intercepted by Hardison's knights. He had to flee for his life, leaving the duchess behind.
"Other accounts say she refused to go with him. It's hard to know the truth of it. The duke returned home and was informed of the breach. And who knows what really happened? It's possible the duchess convinced him she was unsullied. Though the servants were pretty clear she'd been had. Whatever the truth, she remained, and there was a tense peace between the neighbors. Mostly due to lack of proof and the strength of the neighbor's army. The two were fairly evenly matched opponents.
"Several months later, it became obvious that the duchess was pregnant. She'd been barren for the two years she'd been married to the duke. This should have been cause for celebration. Instead, the duke was beside himself—angry, ready to make war on his neighbor despite the risks. He worried—and naturally so, given the circumstances—that the child wasn't his.
"Now the duke was in a dilemma. His wife was from a wealthy and powerful family. She was very beautiful and accomplished. A prize worth possessing. Worse still, he was reportedly madly in love with her. He could have put her aside, but he was a reasonable man, at least on some level. And a jealous one. If she were raped, the pregnancy wasn't her fault. He waited for the baby to be born, hoping for a girl, who he could use as a pawn to make a powerful alliance in the future, but could do his legacy no harm.
"Unfortunately, the child was a boy. A robust boy who bore no resemblance to the duke at birth. And who looked less and less like him as he grew. He didn't have the Marston eyes, you see. Even then, they were a dominant feature." Gill leaned across the table toward me. "Listen closely. Here is where the ruthlessness of the Marston family was supposedly born. Or at least nurtured toward maturity. As soon as the duchess was out of confinement and purified from the birth, the duke was relentless in his pursuit of trying to get another child on her. And he succeeded, though in the end, having another child so close to the first nearly killed her.
"Her second child was born just ten months after the first. And was a boy with the classic Marston looks. I believe his portrait still hangs in the gallery. It's not much of a likenes
s. It's done in the medieval style. But you should have a look at it for yourself.
"Anyway, the duke was now in yet another dilemma. He didn't believe the older child was his. But he didn't want to put his wife away and lose either her or his second son. He had to get rid of the older son so the younger could inherit. Two years after the second son was born, the duchess gave him a third son. Eventually, he had six sons. Five who looked like him and survived to adulthood. And the oldest, who at three was locked in the tower during an attempted siege of the castle, never to be seen again.
"The duke claimed the boy and his nurse were sent away through a secret passage to safety, and were alive and well at his brother's estate in the north. No one thought too much of it until the duke was seriously wounded in battle when his second son was about twenty. The duke was brought home to die and suddenly announced that his oldest son had died many years before. It was suspicious. There was never any proof. And his brother claimed it was an outright lie that he'd raised his nephew. That he'd ever been sent into his care.
"Rumors and speculation abound to this day about what really happened to that little three-year-old boy. Most people think the duke had him and the nursemaid murdered in that tower and buried somewhere on the estate." Gill ate heartily while he told his story.
"That's quite a tale," I said, spellbound.
"Yes," he said, eating his last piece of toast. "And it doesn't end there. The duke, jealous and afraid someone would get to his duchess again, always had a knight stand guard in front of her rooms. It became a tradition at Hardison Castle over the years. Legend is that the knight in charge wore a special suit of armor enchanted with protection charms by a powerful wizard and blessed by the pope. The charms were supposed to recognize danger and move the knight to action, even if he were daydreaming or dozing on the job.
"After knights became passé, the last suit of armor was put in the sitting room outside the duchess's suite to protect her. The legend is that if she's ever in trouble, it will come to life and protect her."
Castled: Duke Society Series Page 9