by Mary Balogh, Jo Beverley, Sandra Heath, Edith Layton, Laura Matthews
A daunting chill struck through her at the reproachful stare of those beloved eyes, but then the other carriage drew ahead, and the spell was broken. Quickly she lowered the window glass and leaned out to call to her coachman.
“Drive after that carriage!”
“But, madam, it’s Lord Winterbourne’s carriage!” he cried back, raising his voice above the racket of the wind and rain.
“Just catch up with it!”
“As you wish, madam.”
The whip cracked, and the carriage sprang forward.
Rebecca clung to the leather handgrip as the vehicle swayed alarmingly through the darkness. She was filled with a tumult of emotion that matched the wildness of the night. The wind shook the carriage, and lashed the rain against the glass. She heard the coachman’s whip again as he urged the horses to greater effort toward the summit, where the lamps of Piers’s vehicle swung away to the left toward Winterbourne Castle.
Rebecca’s coachman followed. Clouds suddenly obscured the road directly ahead. He heard someone shouting, and just in time saw a light being waved through the murk. The other carriage had halted and was blocking the way. With a cry of alarm he applied the brakes and reined his team in with all his might, bringing them to a standstill with only a few feet to spare.
Piers’s carriage had struck a large stone in the road, and he and his coachman had removed one of the lamps to see how much damage there was. Hearing the oncoming vehicle, they’d called out a warning. The lamp shone on Piers’s startled face as the lead horses loomed out of the swirling clouds. “What in God’s name—?” he cried, astonished that another carriage should take the Winterbourne road at this hour.
Rebecca lowered the window to see what was happening, and as she saw Piers, she flung open the door to alight.
Startled still more, Piers thrust the lamp into his coachman’s hand. “Mrs. Winterbourne?”
She hardly heard him as she ran to look into his carriage, but it was empty. Tears stung her eyes as she whirled about to face him. “Where is he?” she demanded, her voice catching on a sob.
“Where is who?”
“My father!”
Irritation visibly swept through him in the lamplight. “Not again! Mrs. Winterbourne, I don’t profess to know what all this is about, but I do know your father died some time ago, so will you please—!”
“But I saw him! I saw him!” The tears welled helplessly from her eyes, and she hid her face in her hands. She must be losing her mind! What other explanation was there?
He saw she was at the end of her tether, and went to take her hands and lower them gently so he could look into her distraught eyes. “I left the ball alone, I swear,” he said reasonably, his voice only just audible above the storm.
Her face was wet with both tears and rain. “But he was there,” she insisted. “I had a clear view of him looking out at me as you passed me on the hill, and he was angry with me. So angry. I know I wasn’t imagining it; he was seated right there!” Her finger trembled as she pointed into his carriage.
“Mrs. Winterbourne—Rebecca—it’s clear you’re most unwell, and I think I should see you straight home to Abbotlea. I’ll explain to your family about—”
He didn’t finish, for there was a sudden gust of wind so strong that it almost blew them from their feet. The coachman had to cling to one of the horses, and dropped the lamp, which immediately went out. There was an ominous splintering sound, followed by a huge groan and a crash as one of the trees behind the carriages fell across the road, completely blocking the way back to the fork.
A gale-whipped debris of twigs and bark scattered through the air, and Piers instinctively pulled Rebecca close to shield her. He stared at the fallen tree, realizing that it was the very one by which he’d earlier seen the cloaked man. Unease washed stealthily through him. There was something strange abroad tonight, something a little beyond his comprehension ... What was that old countryman’s prayer his nurse used to say? From ghoulies, and ghosties, and long-leggedy beasties, Good Lord deliver us...
The moment the superstitious thought came to him, he cast it angrily aside. Pull yourself together, man! The tree is pure coincidence, and Rebecca keeps seeing her father because she’s ill! But still he couldn’t help staring at the tree. With hindsight it seemed to him it had fallen almost as if on cue, and now it obstructed the road as surely as any locked gate. There was no turning back; the only way was straight ahead. To Winterbourne Castle.
He spoke gently to Rebecca. “It’s all right; we’ve come to no harm.”
For a fleeting second she felt his fingers move softly in the hair at the nape of her neck.
He turned to the two coachmen. “We’ve no choice but to go on to the castle now, and since my carriage is damaged, I’ll take Mrs. Winterbourne in hers.” He nodded at his own man. “Come along as best you can. The wheel should hold, but I’ll send help as soon as possible.”
“My lord.”
Rebecca was alarmed. Go to the castle? She couldn’t! She shook her head defiantly. “No! Not the castle. I won’t go there—”
He interrupted. “You aren’t being given the choice. I’ll send a rider to Abbotlea to let them know what’s happened, then in the morning I’ll have the tree hauled aside so you can go home. For the moment, however, you’re accompanying me to the castle, and that’s the end of it.”
Determined to brook no further objection, he ushered her toward her carriage. She glanced agitatedly over her shoulder at the open door of his vehicle. For a moment she was again sure there was a shadowy figure inside, but as she continued to look, she knew no one was there.
Piers helped her into the carriage, and then climbed in with her. A moment later the Abbotlea coachman maneuvered around the damaged vehicle and drove carefully on down the hillside, bracing himself for the buffeting of the wind where the road emerged from the shelter of the trees onto more exposed land.
The other coachman prepared to follow as best he could. He climbed back onto his seat and took up the reins, but as he moved the team gingerly forward, he was watched by a shadowy figure near the fallen tree. The cloaked man’s garments flapped in the wind, and there was a smile on his spectral face.
Rebecca stared at the rain on the window as she was conveyed toward the castle where she’d sworn to never again set foot. Her hands clasped and unclasped in her lap, and several minutes passed before she spoke to Piers.
“I vowed never to enter Winterbourne Castle again.”
“Needs must when the devil drives, and I’m afraid he has the reins right now. Or would you have preferred me to leave you at the roadside?”
“Maybe.”
“Oh. Would that be because such neglect would provide you with yet another reason to point an accusing finger at me? I can’t believe that even you would rather be stranded in weather like this than be beholden to me.”
“The Winterbournes have given me precious little reason to wish to have anything to do with them,” she replied.
He caught her gaze and held it. “You’re always so sure of your facts, aren’t you? So quick to form opinions and cling to them as if they’re something precious. Well, it may interest you to know that whereas you’re right in everything you think about my father, who was all the unpleasant things you say, you’re most certainly wrong in virtually everything where I’m concerned. There are uncomfortable facts of which you know nothing, madam.”
“What do you mean?”
“Home truths, madam. Home truths.” He looked away from her, and the ensuing silence was broken only by the noise of the storm. The wind howled dismally down from the craggy heights of High Tor, and dark clouds raced across the night sky. He gazed out. It might be Christmas, but this was indeed a night for ghoulies, and ghosties, and long-leggedy beasties...
A quarter of an hour later the carriage turned through the griffin-flanked gates of the castle and drove along the wide drive with its avenue of beech trees. Rebecca looked up at the trees. The last time she’d
been here it had been high summer, and leaves had cast dappled shadows across the way. Now bare branches swung to and fro overhead as the wind whistled through them.
The lights of the castle were reflected in the unsettled water of the moat, and then the carriage wheels rattled on the wooden drawbridge that gave into the shelter of the courtyard.
The moment the coachman reined in, Piers alighted and held out a hand to Rebecca. “Welcome to Winterbourne Castle, Rebecca,” he said, his voice quite clear because the walls of the castle rose protectively all around, shutting out the full rage of the night.
He’d used her first name a moment before the tree fell. She didn’t notice then, and she didn’t notice now as she hesitantly accepted his assistance to alight. Rain fell coldly on her face as she glanced around. How odd it was to be standing here again after all this time, and with Piers instead of Edward. The storm raged beyond the great stone walls, and she shivered as for a moment she thought she heard someone calling her name on the wind. Rebecca ... Rebecca...
Piers took her arm. “Come inside, for the sooner you’re in the warm, the better.”
A wall lantern swayed by the arched doorway as they left the night behind to enter the great hall. The vast medieval chamber was brightly lit by heavy wheelrim chandeliers suspended from a hammerbeam roof, and by free-standing candlesticks by the walls. Suits of armor glinted in the glow from the Yule logs that burned brightly against the andirons of the two great stone fireplaces, and priceless displays of weapons and shields shone on the stonework above the dark oak wall paneling. Christmas garlands were festooned all around, and the smell of spiced wine drifted from the large jug keeping warm by the nearest hearth.
Piers beckoned a waiting footman. “Have some men ride back along the road to assist with my damaged carriage, and see that a message is sent to Abbotlea Manor to inform Mrs. Winterbourne’s household she will be unable to return there tonight because the road is blocked by a fallen tree. A rider won’t have difficulty getting through.”
“My lord.”
“And I want the principal guest chamber prepared immediately for Mrs. Winterbourne. Select one of the maids to attend her. Kitty would seem the wisest choice.”
“Very well, my lord.” The footman bowed and hurried away.
Piers waited until he’d gone before speaking to Rebecca. “I’m afraid propriety is a little at risk, for this year my sisters and aunts prefer to spend Christmas in London, but the castle is large enough for us to keep well apart.” He poured a glass of the spiced wine, and pressed it into her cold fingers. “Sip this—it will help restore you.”
She cupped the warm glass in her hands. “How determined you are to be the attentive host,” she murmured.
Swift anger lit his eyes. “And how determined you are to be the injured party,” he replied. “Very well, madam, the time has come to set the record straight. I warned you there were home truths you had yet to hear, and now I’m about to tell you some of them. To begin with, I have never disapproved of you; in fact, the opposite has always been the case. But I did disapprove of your marriage to my cousin. Not because I thought you weren’t good enough for him, but because I knew he wasn’t good enough for you.”
She lowered her glass incredulously.
He continued. “I’m tired of the reproach and accusation I see in your eyes every time we meet. You charge me with treating you and your children shabbily, but I’ve been leaving you alone because that was what I thought you wanted. If anyone treated you shabbily, it was my cousin. Edward was a charming wastrel, a disarming rake who was completely incapable of putting anyone before himself.”
“How dare you!”
He continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “Edward had more than sufficient income to support a wife and children in comfort, but instead chose to gamble it all away. Not content with that, he indulged in wild escapades like the race that eventually led to his death. Time and time again he put his own selfish pleasures first, and in the end he left you without a penny, just as I always knew he would.”
“How can you say such dreadful things?” she whispered, trembling so much she had to put her glass down.
“Don’t delude yourself anymore, Rebecca. Edward Winterbourne wasn’t worthy of the love you lavished on him, and that’s why I was against the match.”
“Oh, how noble of you, to be sure! Well, let me remind you that everyone here at Winterbourne Castle—including you, sirrah!—was implacably and vengefully—”
He broke in again. “Rebecca, I make no excuses for my father, whose prejudices were renowned, or for the rest of my family, who meekly went along with his wishes, but you’ve wronged me all along!”
“I think not!”
“I admit I mishandled matters when you and Edward first came together,” he conceded.
“Mishandled? You changed overnight from friend to enemy!”
“I’ve never been your enemy.”
“Your attitude toward me altered the moment Edward and I stepped out for that landler, and you’ve remained hostile ever since,” she accused.
He drew a long breath. “Hostile isn’t the word I’d choose.”
“I’m sure it isn’t, but it’s the appropriate one.”
“No, Rebecca, it isn’t remotely appropriate. What would you have had me do? Pretend to approve of a match I thought was wrong? You made it only too clear that Edward was the be-all and end-all of your existence, and since his death you’ve continued in the same vein. Rather than be confrontational, I decided to observe my res—” He broke off.
“Observe your what?” she asked.
“Nothing. Shall we say I simply felt it was preferable all around if I stayed well away from you. I thought that was how you wished it to be, or are you now about to say I’ve been wrong?”
She couldn’t answer.
He searched her face. “Rebecca, I—”
At last she realized he was using her first name all the time. “I gave you no leave to address me so familiarly,” she interrupted.
His anger flashed into life again. “Damn it, I’ve known you since you were sixteen, so I’m taking that leave anyway! I’ve had enough of your stubbornness and unfair accusations, Rebecca. I concede that things went lamentably wrong between us when you and Edward announced your betrothal, but I didn’t mean to give the impression I did. Put it down to my callow youth; after all, youth is no doubt the excuse you use for your own behavior at that time.”
She colored.
He gave a dry laugh. “I see I’m right!” Then he became more serious. “Rebecca, I’m more sorry than you’ll ever know that I permitted things to deteriorate between us. I’ve never looked down on you, and right now there’s nothing I’d like more than to put all misunderstandings behind us. I’ll begin by telling you that the doors of this castle have never been closed to you since I’ve been master here. You and your children are even more than welcome to reside beneath my roof if you so wish.”
Her lips parted. “Reside here?” she repeated.
“It’s your sons’ birthright, Rebecca. My father may have excluded them for what he perceived as Edward’s misalliance, but I restored them to their rightful place the moment I succeeded to the title. In fact, right now your eldest son is my heir.”
Shaken, she stared at him. “Your—your heir?” she whispered.
“The title and inheritance must pass through the male line, and although I have sisters, aunts, female cousins, and indirect male family in plenty, Edward was my only direct male relative. Unless and until I’m blessed with a son of my own, who else would I name but his sons? Oh, but please don’t fear that residence here is a prerequisite for your son’s inheritance, for I quite understand Sir Oliver wouldn’t view such a course with any favor.” His blue eyes were piercing. “So much for your dearly held misconceptions about me, Rebecca. There’s much more I could tell you, but perhaps it’s better I don’t.”
She was so stunned to learn that Matthew was his heir that she didn’t know
what to say.
He gave her an almost mocking smile. “I appear to have given you food for thought, Rebecca, so I’ll leave you now. A maid will attend you shortly. Good night, madam.” Inclining his head coldly, he turned to walk away toward the dark oak staircase that rose from the far end of the hall.
She had no time to think, for just as he disappeared from view on the floor above, fresh footsteps swiftly echoed across the hall as a maid hurried toward her. “I’m Kitty, madam, and I’m to wait upon you,” she said, bobbing a curtsey. She was small and tidy, with short dark hair, and wore a neat blue woolen dress and starched apron. “If you’ll come this way...?”
Rebecca’s mind was still in a whirl as she followed the maid to the principal guest chamber, which was as sumptuous as its name suggested, with dark paneled walls, rich red-and-gold velvet hangings, and a specially built bed of such splendor it was almost regal.
As Kitty helped her change into a silk nightgown belonging to one of Piers’s sisters, the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fresh logs on the fire. Soon pins tinkled into a dish, and strawberry satin ribbons slithered in a little pile on the dressing table as Rebecca sat for her hair to be brushed. She removed the favor from her wrist, and toyed thoughtfully with it as the hairbrush crackled through her dark tresses. Going to the ball tonight had been a huge mistake.
When Kitty had finished, she bobbed another curtsey. “Is there anything else you require, madam?”
“No. Thank you.”
“As you wish, madam. Good night.”
“Good night, Kitty.”
“Oh, and a happy Christmas to you.”
Rebecca managed a wry smile. “And to you, Kitty,” she murmured. There was nothing happy about this Christmas, nothing at all.