At last they gained their first glimpse of the castle, silhouetted against the sky with the garden around it and the trees beyond.
It seemed to Michael that it exuded a charm which he had never noticed before.
“Is that your castle?” Win asked.
“That is indeed my castle,” Michael said, feeling a certain pride as he pronounced “my castle”.
“It is very beautiful,” Win said.
“Yes, it is. Let us stop for a moment.”
Michael called to the coachman to stop and they climbed down to survey the countryside.
They were close to a village which, he guessed, must be Hedgeworth. It was a tiny hamlet with one main high street ending in a stone house, set in a large garden filled with flowers.
All around them the scenery was gentle and beautiful, the trees in bloom and the flowers glowing with a hundred pretty colours.
Now he was glad of his unobtrusive clothing. Win’s sartorial glory looked rather out of place in these surroundings.
Suddenly floating on the bright air came wafting the sound of a young girl’s voice singing.
“Where the sweet river wanders,
My love and I walked,
He smiled and said ‘Dearest,
Come talk with me, talk.
Let’s speak of the future
That shines bright before us,
And never, never be parted again’.”
Michael stood quite still, entranced by the purity of the girl’s voice.
He could not see anybody, but the sound seemed to be coming from his left, where there was a small river, with weeping willows hanging down to the water and reeds breaking the surface. He thought he had never witnessed anything so charming.
The next moment he realised that there was something else in the world that was even more charming. As he moved forward he saw a girl in a deep blue dress, kneeling on the bank, gathering reeds.
He could not see her face clearly, but what little he could see was pretty and country fresh with soft cheeks like peaches and cream.
Her figure was slim and elegant and beneath her white,
cotton sun bonnet he could just spy a glimpse of golden hair.
Then she began to sing again.
“Never be parted,
Aye those were his words.
But oh, life is cruel,
And now he has gone.
The river still wanders,
But I walk alone.”
The soft melancholy of the last words died away, and the girl continued with her work, oblivious to the onlooker standing there or how she had affected him.
Michael contemplated her, thinking how sweet and natural she looked. In fact, she was the most delightful sight he had seen for a very long time.
He smiled with pleasure.
He was going to enjoy the country life.
At that moment the girl leaned forward to reach a distant reed, but it was a little too far. She tried again, stretching further.
“Hey!” Michael called.
He could see she had leaned at too great an angle and was heading for a fall. Running fast, he just managed to reach her in time and seize her about the waist.
“It’s all right,” he cried. “I’ve caught you.”
“Oh – thank you,” she gasped.
He moved a step back, taking her with him and lifting her, so that she was drawn to her feet. She seized his arms, steadying herself and catching her breath.
But at the last minute Michael lost his balance and fell backwards, taking her to the ground with him in an undignified sprawl that dislodged her bonnet.
All her shining fair hair came tumbling down around her shoulders, in a seemingly endless golden stream. Down and down it coursed, almost to her waist, gleaming in the sun.
She burst out laughing and it seemed to Michael’s enchanted senses that her laughter was one with the gold of her hair. Like music it rippled and shivered away into the glowing sunlit air.
“Thank you so much,” she said recovering her poise. “I so nearly fell into the water.”
“That would have been terrible,” Michael agreed. “I am so glad I managed to save you, but sorry I was so clumsy about it.”
“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” she said cheerfully. “I have lived in the country long enough not to worry about a tumble now and then.”
After the self-conscious frailty of the elegant ladies that he met in London, this was music to Michael’s ears.
He helped her to pick up the reeds which had become strewn everywhere and placed them neatly into her basket.
He caught her looking at him curiously.
“You are a stranger here?” she asked.
“That’s right.”
“In this tiny place a new face always stands out. If you are looking for an inn, there’s – ”
“No, thank you,” he interrupted her, laughing. “We don’t need an inn. We are staying at the castle.”
“We?”
She looked around and her eyes lit on Win, strolling some distance away, in all his magnificence. Her jaw dropped.
“You don’t mean – ? Lord Danesbury has returned to the castle at last?”
“That’s right.”
“But how wonderful! It will mean so much to the village – to everyone around here. It seemed so sad that he never thought of us. Will he stay long, do you think?”
“Well, I – ”
“It will mean jobs, for he will want to hire people. Oh, this is such good news!”
“Has the castle been empty for very long?” he asked cautiously.
“Oh, years. At least – it isn’t precisely empty. There’s Brooks and his wife. He used to be the butler, but he is really more of a caretaker now. I believe the place is in a shocking state. Lord Danesbury really ought to be ashamed of himself!”
She glared in the direction of Win’s beautiful person. He was standing looking at the castle through an extremely elegant gold eyeglass. Michael had always stigmatised this piece of adornment as dandified, but there was no doubt that it made its owner look impressive.
“Look at him,” she said as the sun winked off the eyeglass. “I’ll wager that object he is holding up to his eye is solid gold.”
“It is,” Michael confirmed, his eyes dancing.
“Well, that just tells you, doesn’t it?”
“Tells me what?”
“That he is a man who spends his money on personal decoration and thinks nothing of his responsibilities. The castle needs money spent on it and so does the district. And what does he use his money for? A gold eyeglass.”
Michael recognised that he should speak up at once, but an imp of mischief teased him to continue such an innocent deception a little further.
“He is not entirely to blame,” he ventured, keeping a straight face. “He never expected to inherit the title. He always thought his uncle would marry and produce a son and heir but then the uncle died suddenly.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Three years,” he admitted.
“Three years when he did not even bother to visit his ancestral home? I call that shocking.”
“You may be right,” he conceded meekly. “I don’t think he ever saw the matter in that light.”
It occurred to him that for a servant girl she boasted an unusually educated accent. She might almost have been a lady. But no lady dressed like this and plucked reeds from the river.
Michael wondered if she was one of his tenants and thought that she probably must be. His land stretched for a long way around the castle.
“Tell me, is this what you normally do?”
“Gathering reeds? No, I usually work in the garden.”
“What is your name?” he asked, smiling. “No, don’t tell me, let me guess. Rose, or Lily, Lilac, Iris or perhaps Hyacinth. I feel sure that you are named after some beautiful flower.”
Bettina regarded him wryly.
“Indeed!” she said. “Perhaps you should b
e careful, lest I turn out to be called Stinging Nettle.”
“I don’t believe it. Such a pretty miss must be quite without venom.”
“Do you always talk to strange girls in this manner.”
“Only if they are devastatingly beautiful. If you are not named after a flower then you must be something else that is lovely, such as Faith, Hope or Charity.”
She gave a choke of laughter and quickly placed her hand over her mouth.
“I am sorry,” she said. “But you are being so absurd.”
“I was trying to make myself agreeable,” he protested.
“To whom? There may be some females who find it agreeable to listen to condescending nonsense. I am not one of them.”
“I am sure I don’t know what you mean by ‘condescending’.”
“I think you do. You come from London, full of your own importance. You see me gathering reeds and you think, ‘Hah!’”
“I never said ‘Hah!” he defended himself.
“You thought it. ‘Hah! A raw country girl, a silly creature who knows no better. She will be flattered at my even talking to her. A few idiotic remarks about roses and lilacs and she will melt.’ Well sir, do I look as though I am melting?”
“Most certainly you do not,” Michael answered, trying to keep a clear head.
It was like being attacked by a swarm of bees, he thought.
At the same time, she was enchanting. The more she flew at him in a whirlwind of indignation, the more enchanting she became.
His senses grew dizzy. His mind was swimming with the thoughts and sensations that were surging through him. As she grew angry the colour had mounted in her cheeks until he thought he had never seen anyone so lovely.
Suddenly Michael could not resist any longer. Nor, to be honest, did he try very hard.
Fixing his eyes on her adorable face, he pulled her forward and placed a kiss firmly on her red lips.
At first she did not move. He could feel her go tense with shock and waited for her to soften, sharing his pleasure. Not for one instant did he doubt that, despite her pretty indignation, she was secretly willing.
For a long moment he enjoyed the sensation of her beautiful mouth against his, so soft and – as he convinced himself – yielding.
But then his illusion was shattered. With one firm movement the girl freed herself from him. Taken aback, he stared at her.
The next moment he was reeling from a slap on the face that almost made him see stars.
“Hey!” he exclaimed.
“How dare you!” she breathed. “What do you think I – ? Who do you – ? How dare you!”
“I am sorry,” he said hastily. “I beg your pardon. Perhaps that was unwise of me but – ”
“Unwise? Is that all you can say? I could think of a much worse word. Disgraceful. Not the action of a gentleman with any decency or honour.”
“Was I really to blame?” he pleaded, half humorously.
“What can I do when you look so pretty?”
“Are you daring to suggest that it was my fault?”
“I cannot be the first man who has wanted to kiss you?”
“As to that, I would not know, but you are certainly the first who has forgotten his manners enough to do so,” she raged.
“Don’t you think you are making too much of it?” he declared. “After all, it was only one little kiss.”
She drew herself up and gave him a fierce look.
“I am betrothed,” she announced in a withering voice.
He froze, appalled.
Somehow it had never occurred to Michael that this might be so. She had seemed to be so natural, so much a part of the summer day, like a gift from Heaven. Now he discovered that he might have compromised her.
Looking round, he saw to his relief that they were unobserved.
“I beg your pardon,” he muttered. “Obviously I should not have – please excuse me.”
He hurried away without another word, wondering what had come over him to behave in such a way.
But he had not been able to stop himself. That was the truth.
“Drive on,” he told the coachman as he and Win climbed back into the carriage.
“Did you have an accident?” Win asked, regarding him sympathetically.
“No, why?”
“Your face is red on one side. I wondered if you had suffered a fall.”
“I stumbled and – er – fell against a tree,” Michael said, rubbing his face self-consciously.
“A tree? Surely there were no trees in the direction you – ?”
“For the love of Heaven, Win!” he roared. “Let the matter rest!”
“All right, all right. No need to get in a miff.”
*
The castle was beautiful from any angle, but as they drove up to the front door, Michael could see that the windows needed replacing and the doors required repainting.
Stepping out of the chaise, he said to the coachman,
“You can find your way to the stables, although I doubt if there will be anyone there.”
The way he spoke made his coachman laugh.
“This be a real adventure, my Lord,” he said. “I only ‘opes you’ll not be disappointed.”
“We will have to make sure we are not,” Michael replied. “Ready for an adventure, Win?”
“Game for anything, old boy!”
Together they walked in through the front door, which Michael was not surprised to find unlocked.
In fact the lock was broken. However there were bolts attached to it, which enabled it to be fastened at night.
The hall was dusty and in need of cleaning. But on the walls hung pictures of his ancestors which he guessed were valuable.
The hall divided into two long corridors, each of which contained furniture that also struck him as valuable.
“I say, suppose there is nobody here at all,” Win remarked.
“That girl said there was a caretaker, if we could find him.”
“Girl?”
“Er – a local maiden that I chatted with,” Michael explained quickly.
He took the left-hand corridor, heading to what he believed was the kitchen.
He had barely reached it when a door opened and an elderly man emerged. He was very untidily dressed and wore no collar.
He glared at Michael and barked,
“Who are you and what do you want?”
“I am Lord Danesbury,” Michael said. “I should have told you I was arriving here, but I left London rather unexpectedly.”
The man stared at him.
Then he said,
“You be his Lordship, the Earl?”
Michael nodded.
There was silence for a moment, while the man stared at him.
“You could knock me down with a feather, my Lord. I never expected you to come like this. I hoped you would be here sooner or later to see what was happening, but when time passed, and you didn’t come, I thought you had forgotten us.”
“That was wrong of me,” Michael admitted, with his charming smile. “I have sadly neglected my duty. But I am here now. I think you must be Brooks.”
The elderly man drew in his breath.
“That’s right, my Lord,” he said. “I’ve been here nigh on forty years. I came here first when I was a boy and my mother worked in the kitchen. Then as I grew older I became a footman, as you might call it, and later the butler.”
“That is excellent,” Michael said. “There is so much I want to know about this castle and you will be able to tell me all.”
The door opened again and an elderly woman appeared, giving a little shriek when she saw Michael.
“You must be Mrs. Brooks,” he said, giving her too a smile that won her over. “I am Lord Danesbury. It is unpardonable of me to descend on you without warning, but perhaps this will make it a little easier.”
He produced some guineas from his pocket and dropped them into her hand.
“There should be enough there t
o purchase supplies to feed us tonight,” he said. “And tomorrow I will provide you with some proper housekeeping money.”
“Thank you, my Lord,” she said humbly.
“This is my friend, Lord Winton Shriver. He and I will need two rooms, which our valets will make ready, if you have any that are habitable.”
“There’s the Master’s room and the best guest room,” Brooks said. “I only hopes that your Lordships will not find them too uncomfortable.”
Win’s face expressed the same hope.
Luck favoured him. The two rooms, although shabby, were in good condition and their respective valets soon made them comfortable.
When both young men had dressed for dinner, Michael presented himself at Win’s door, ready to escort him downstairs.
“This is going to be a voyage of exploration,” he said.
“I do not know anything about this place. I was twelve when I saw it last.
“My uncle descended on me one day and said it was time I visited the ancestral home. I did not want to. My uncle scared me because he always expected me to be cleverer than I was, but by mother insisted.”
“And you don’t recall anything about it?”
“Only that I felt very disappointed because it was so dilapidated. The windows were covered in creepers. The drive had not been cleared of weeds for a long time.
“It was certainly not my idea of an ancestral home. As I toured round with my uncle, I saw so much that was wrong that I kept very quiet. I did not dare tell him what I really thought. He didn’t say much either. He knew he had only himself to blame.
“Since that visit I put the castle out of my mind, until he died and it became my responsibility. Even then I was not ready to take it on, knowing what a fortune it would cost to put it right.”
“I thought you had made a fortune, old boy,” Win observed languidly.
“Luckily, I had. I am going to need it to restore this place. I suppose the truth is that until now I did not care enough. Maybe I still will not.”
They descended the grand staircase and explored the drawing room, which was in a better state than the passage.
The furniture which mercifully had not been removed was not only significant but looked in good repair.
The curtains, however, were torn and dirty. The carpet was threadbare and badly in need of brushing.
Royalty Defeated by Love Page 3