Castle of Love

by Barbara Cartland

  Nobody noticed Jacina.

  Every evening she ate in silence and excused herself at the earliest opportunity.

  Then one evening, just before dessert, Monsieur Fronard tapped his glass and the Earl rose to his feet.

  The guests regarded him expectantly while Jacina lowered her head as if at an impending blow.

  The Earl’s strong voice carried all too clearly down the table. This was the announcement she had been dreading for days.

  The date of the wedding was finally set!

  *

  Every day loaded carts drew up at the trade entrance of the castle. There were sacks of flour from the mill on the estate. There were bags of sugar and crates of eggs. There were boxes of late fruit and jars of sweetmeats.

  Cook was in her element. Her arms were always covered to the elbow in flour. She was determined to make it the most glorious wedding breakfast in the history of the castle.

  The haberdasher came with bolts of silk and muslin and satin. The shoemaker came with swatches of leather. The glove-maker came and the milliner.

  The dressmaker came.

  Jacina watched the hustle and bustle from her window. She fervently hoped that the Earl might now find happiness.

  Sometimes she sought refuge with Sarah. When Sarah brought out the caddy to make the tea, Jacina looked sadly at its painted scenes of India.

  The Earl had once again become as distant to her as a dream.

  One afternoon Sarah’s arthritis was playing up. She asked Jacina to make the tea. As Jacina reached the caddy down, a thin packet of letters that had been lodged behind it fell to the floor.

  Sarah noticed. “Those are letters Miss Felice wrote to me when Master Crispian was alive,” she commented.

  As Jacina picked up the letters, she could not help but notice the dainty handwriting.

  Sarah said no more about Felice. She hardly ever mentioned Felice now and she never chatted about the forthcoming wedding.

  As the day drew near, Jacina wished more and more

  that she could take herself back to her home in the village, but she knew it was not possible. The house was locked up. The housemaid had gone with Doctor Carlton to Edinburgh. Besides, Jacina always obeyed her father’s wishes. No matter what, she must remain at the castle.

  She read and re-read letters from her father. He had written to say that though the Earl had invited him, he did not know whether he would be able to attend the wedding.

  The afternoon before the wedding day Jacina was surprised by a knock at her bedroom door. It was Nancy.

  “Miss Felice wants to see you, miss,” she said. “In her room.”

  Jacina was too intrigued to refuse.

  Felice had been given the room hung with yellow silk. When Jacina arrived dresses were strewn all over the carved oak bed. Hats and gloves lay about on chairs. Felice stood in front of a pier glass. The dressmaker fussed around her, arranging swathes of white satin in place. She was putting the final touches to her wedding dress.

  “I want your opinion,” said Felice. “What do you think of this dress?”

  “It is – perfect,” murmured Jacina, puzzled.

  “Oh, I suppose it is alright, but really, ze workmanship is not as good as I could find in Paris or even London.”

  The dressmaker, mouth full of pins, flushed and tried to look as if she was not there.

  Felice held something up for Jacina to see.

  “And what about these? Do these diamonds look good with zis white satin?”

  Jacina glanced at the necklace that had briefly lain around her own neck and then looked away.

  “Ideal,” she said.

  Felice regarded her curiously, her head on one side.

  “You would like zis necklace to be yours, no?” she asked softly.

  Jacina met her gaze in the glass.

  “I am well aware that it can never be mine,” she responded simply.

  Felice threw back her head and laughed gaily. “Oh how I am enjoying zis!” she exclaimed.

  Jacina was confused. “En-enjoying – what?” she asked.

  “Everything!” cried Felice. “Everything is better now!” She wiped her eyes as if she had been crying with amusement and waved a hand at Jacina. “Why don’t you go away now, back to your dull old books!”

  Jacina was bewildered. Felice Delisle was playing with her as a cat plays with a mouse and she could not understand why.

  Turning on her heels to leave, she found her way barred by the figure of Monsieur Fronard. He regarded her with a scowl.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I sent for her,” said Felice airily.

  “You sent for her?” repeated Fronard, raising his eyes to Felice where she stood by the pier glass.

  “Mais oui. I get bored, you know, bored.”

  Fronard growled something that Jacina heard as “prenez guarde.”

  “Take care!”

  Jacina had had enough. She pushed past Fronard and hurried back to her room, her spirits deeply disturbed.

  What kind of creature was Felice Delisle? To have sent for Jacina and taunted her purely out of boredom! She had not seemed to consider it at all unseemly that Fronard should enter when she was being fitted for her wedding dress.

  What if the Earl found out?

  With a chill Jacina found herself thinking the unthinkable.

  Perhaps it suited Felice Delisle that the Earl of Ruven was blind!

  *

  That night Jacina could not sleep.

  She tossed and turned in her bed. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw Felice Delisle holding up the diamond necklace. She heard that high-pitched laugh ringing through her.

  Her heart was full of anguish. Was the Earl about to doom himself to an unhappy marriage? It might be so and yet there was nothing she could do to help him. He was in love with Felice Delisle, that was certain. No man could have been more solicitous of her happiness.

  Jacina sat up. The room seemed so close and stuffy. She needed air, fresh air! Throwing aside the counterpane, she got out of bed and went to the window. She drew back the curtain. Moonlight poured into the room like a flood of silver. She opened the window catch and leaned out.

  It had rained all day but now it had stopped. The air was cool and sweet. The moonlight touched the earth with filigree. The unutterably peaceful night seemed to beckon to the heart-sore Jacina. She dressed quickly, took up her cloak and left her room. She tiptoed through the corridors, not wishing to rouse anyone.

  She had to take great care tugging at the front door. Once it was open, she hesitated and then found a stone to wedge the door, so it would not completely close behind her. She wanted to be able to return without having to summon one of the servants.

  The woods on the other side of the moat seemed too dark to enter, despite the moonlight. She turned to the right and followed along under the castle walls. A thin ribbon of light across the grass made her look up. The lamp in the Earl’s chamber was still burning.

  Sarah had remarked that recently the Earl seemed to sit up half the night.

  Jacina pressed on and skirted the East tower. The moat was not so wide on this side of the castle. A wooden bridge led over it to a rose garden, a herb garden and an apple orchard. It also led to a pretty copse. A flagstone path ran through the trees to a clearing wherein stood a stone folly. The folly was in the shape of a small, round temple, open to the elements on all sides.

  Jacina often came here alone to read when the weather was warm enough. It had become her secret place.

  The path that led to the clearing twisted through the copse, sometimes almost doubling back upon itself. She stepped lightly along, her cloak pulled close.

  She was right to have come out! The sharp night air seemed to clear her troubled mind. The tranquillity of the landscape soothed her heavy heart.

  All was well until she drew near the clearing. Then, to her astonishment, she heard the sound of voices ahead. She was not alone! She hesitated a
nd then crept closer. The dome of the folly came into view. A few steps nearer and she could see the clearing itself through the trees. It was bright under the moonlight and the two figures standing together in the folly were clearly outlined.

  Monsieur Fronard and Felice Delisle!

  Fronard had Felice’s hands grasped in his. He spoke low and urgently. Felice shook her head and Fronard dropped her hands. He said something else and at this Felice threw back her head and gave a silvery laugh. Fronard put a finger under her chin and lifted her face to his.

  He leaned forward and kissed Felice Delisle full on the lips.

  With a gasp Jacina drew herself deeper into the shadows. As she did so the edge of her cloak caught on a bush. The whole bush shook as she tugged her cloak free.

  Fronard and Felice drew apart and looked her way.

  Her heart in her mouth, she turned on her heels and stumbled back through the copse.

  She did not know where she was going or what she would do when she got there.

  What could she do! All she could think of was Felice and Fronard embracing in the folly.

  In her haste she took a wrong turning and slithered into a ditch. Icy water oozed up over the top of her ankle boots. Breathing heavily, she scrambled from the ditch and turned back onto the main path. Her feet were now soaking wet. Low branches lashed at her face as she ran. She broke from the copse just as the moon went sailing into a sudden mass of dark cloud.

  The castle at least was still outlined against the sky and she raced towards it. Reaching the moat she was thrown into confusion. Which way was the wooden bridge? It was too dark to see. Should she turn to the left or right?

  Her head jerked up. Was that the snapping of a twig in the copse behind her? Her heart went chill in her breast. Suppose Fronard was coming after her? What would such a man do to prevent her reporting what she had seen? She had to take a chance. She must reach the safety of the castle.

  Heart pounding she plunged to the left. It was the right decision. She found the wooden bridge and stumbled across. Reaching the castle in minutes she pushed at the heavy door. The stone she had left there tumbled aside.

  Now she was running up the stairway, running without pause.

  Who could she go to, who?

  Even as she reached the top of the stairs, she knew. Sarah! Surely Sarah would listen to her.

  She had barely breath left in her body by the time she reached the nursery. She fell against the door and beat upon it with her fists.

  “Who’s there?” called Sarah.

  “It’s me, it’s me!”

  “Jacina?”

  The door was opened and Jacina stumbled with a cry into the old Nanny’s arms.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Firelight flickered on the nursery wall. Jacina sat hunched in a chair, a blanket round her shoulders. Her boots and stockings lay drying on the hearth. She was clutching a mug of hot milk, from which she now and then took a small sip. Her voice was tremulous as she told her tale.

  Sarah listened in grim silence.

  When Jacina had finished, the old woman turned her head and stared into the coals. Her face was sombre in the glow.

  “I knew it from the first,” she said at last.

  “You – you did?” stammered Jacina.

  Sarah looked at her. “Oh, I didn’t know exactly what was going on. Mercy, no, but when the Earl brought Miss Felice up here to meet me, I thought at once she had the look of a minx on her.” Sarah mused for a moment before continuing.

  “They say suffering makes the heart soften, but it seems to have had the opposite effect on Miss Felice Delisle. And it must be that Fronard, leading her astray.”

  Jacina was staring at Sarah. She had just remembered the encounter with Felice on the woodland path, when Felice had looked so dishevelled and had tried to keep her talking. She recalled the woodsman’s cottage and how the door was swinging open as if someone had left in a hurry.

  Was the cottage another of Felice and Fronard’s trysting places?

  She put down her mug slowly. “What must I do, Sarah?”

  Sarah’s reply was unequivocal. “You must tell the Earl what you saw, my lovely. You must indeed tell him what you saw.”

  Jacina knew that Sarah was right but her heart sank. How was she to approach the Earl? She knew what Sarah did not, that it had been a while since she and the Earl had been alone together or enjoyed any kind of companionship. She had long been banished from his good graces.

  Even now her cheeks burned at the memory of that scene in the library, when she had inadvertently offended Felice by wondering aloud at her relish for tragic love stories.

  Or had it been so inadvertent? Might she not even then have secretly suspected that Felice was not all she seemed?

  Jacina’s thoughts were in a whirl. Whatever Felice was, the Earl was in love with her. How could Jacina possibly confront him with the lurid truth?

  With a sudden small cry she buried her face in her hands.

  Sarah watched anxiously.

  “Do you want that I should go tell the Earl, Jacina?”

  Jacina straightened. “No, Sarah. You – you didn’t witness it. I did. It is I who – who must go.”

  There was another reason for Jacina deciding that it must be she and she alone who went to the Earl. The Earl could well resend the messenger. Better then that the messenger be someone who was already out of his favour!

  Having found her resolve she knew she must act without delay. Shrugging off her blanket, she leaned down to collect her boots and stockings from the hearth.

  “But they’re still damp!” exclaimed Sarah, when she saw what Jacina was doing.

  “I know Sarah but it’s getting late and – I have to go tonight. You know that.”

  Sarah sighed and sank back in her chair. Of course Jacina had to go tonight. Tomorrow would be too late.

  Tomorrow the Earl and Felice Delisle would be wed.

  *

  The castle was very quiet as Jacina made her way to the Earl’s study.

  She knew that was where she would find him. She had seen the light shining from the study window. Sarah had said he sat up late.

  When she came to the study she tapped very lightly upon the door. She did not want anyone other than the Earl to hear. There was no response. She was about to knock again when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

  She cast about her in dismay. Where could she hide?

  There was nothing for it but to crouch down at the side of a large coffer that stood to the right of her in the passageway. She had to hope that whoever was approaching went to the left at the top of the stairs and not to the right. If they turned to the right and passed the coffer, they could not fail to see her.

  She saw the light of a lamp bob into view and squeezed further back against the wall.

  The person carrying the lamp stopped outside the Earl’s study and knocked loudly. Jacina’s heart gave a thump as she heard the Earl’s deep voice call out.

  “Who’s there?”

  It thumped even harder when she heard the reply.

  “Fronard.”

  Fronard! What was he doing here at this hour?

  “Enter,” called the Earl.

  She heard the door open. The bobbing light vanished as Fronard entered the study and closed the door behind him.

  This was an unexpected turn of events. What should she do? The safest action would be to creep away now, while she had the opportunity. If Fronard came out and turned to his left down the passageway – as well he might, since his own room lay in that direction – he would pass the coffer. If Jacina was still there, he would undoubtedly discover her.

  She was frightened of Fronard. If the truth were told, she had been frightened of him from the first. His sharp eyes seemed to notice everything. There was a hint of cruelty in their gaze. She wondered if Felice was indeed the marionette, as Sarah had suggested, and Fronard the master.

  Jacina knew she must not let her fear drive her away. If
she did not tell the Earl what she had seen, then she would be consigning him to a marriage he might bitterly regret.

  She stayed in the passageway, praying that she would not be found out. The clock struck a quarter to the hour. She shrank further into the corner, shivering. The clock struck one. A few seconds later the study door opened.

  “Goodnight, my Lord,” came the voice of Fronard.

  He pulled the study door to, but she did not hear it close. Perhaps that was because her ears were full of the sound of her anxious heart. It beat so loudly in her rib cage, she was surprised that Fronard himself did not hear it.

  A second later she thought with horror that he had, for the light from the lamp he carried remained motionless a few feet beyond her. He was standing still outside the Earl’s door. Standing still and listening!

  Jacina tried to stop her very breath.

  At last the light began to bob again. It moved away from her and down the stairs. Jacina let out a long sigh of relief and then rose awkwardly to her feet. Feeling stiff and cold, she stepped up to the study door.

  It stood ajar. She gently pushed it wide. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw the Earl there before her. He was leaning with one arm on the mantelpiece, his face turned towards the fireplace. He could not see the flame of the fire, but he undoubtedly felt its warmth on his flesh.

  He was in a long, black, velvet dressing gown. It was open to his breastbone and she saw the dark hair of his chest.

  The sight of him made her feel faint. Trembling, she stepped forward.

  “My – my Lord.”

  His head snapped up.

  “Jacina?”

  “Yes, my Lord. I – I have something important to tell you.”

  The Earl’s reply was icy. “It does not surprise me, madam, that you do.”

  His words confused Jacina and his manner was so cold, she wanted to turn and flee. Yet Sarah had said this was the right thing to do and she must do it. She opened her mouth but could not speak. Instead a sob rose in her throat.

  The Earl cocked his head as if he heard this sound.

  “Well?” he asked impatiently.