Castle of Secrets

by Amanda Grange

  He suddenly dropped her arm, and to her shock, his hand cupped her face. He looked deeply into her eyes.

  ‘I don’t know what Maria has told you,’ he said, ‘but I am not your enemy.’

  Again, his words confused her.

  ‘Who is Maria, and why do you keep talking about her?’ she asked.

  ‘She is the woman you arrived with at the inn. She is dangerous. I don’t know how she has imposed on you, but I must know where she is going, because if she finds your aunt before we do, then she is likely to kill her.’

  He was so convincing that she faltered.

  ‘I don’t know what to believe,’ she said uncertainly.

  Lord Torkrow was the villain, wasn’t he? But somehow his words had the ring of truth, and he was no longer behaving like a villain. He was not threatening her. He had dropped his hand and although he could have dragged her to the carriage and thrown her in, he had not done so.

  ‘Your aunt is in danger, and so is my nephew,’ he said. ‘You have to decide who to trust, I cannot take the decision for you. You must trust Maria or you must trust me.’

  She felt very still. She remembered everything she had heard about him, every whisper, every rumour, and then she thought of her own experiences at the castle. He had been hostile, but she had never seen him do anything amiss: he had never mistreated the servants, and he had not filled the castle with debauched friends. Even his hostility could be explained if Mary was dangerous, as he claimed, and if he had thought she was in league with Mary.

  But Mary could not be dangerous . . . could she? Helena thought of everything she knew about Mary, and was surprised to realize it was so little, and that even that little came from Mary herself. She remembered that Mary had tried to discover her aunt’s whereabouts by pretending she had a poetry book belonging to her and asking for a forwarding address; and then again by saying that her aunt must have run away with the boy, and asking if Helena knew where they might have gone. And Mary had abandoned her at the inn as soon as she had learnt what she wanted to know.

  Helena looked at the man in front of her, and thought of everything that had passed between them since she had entered the castle. He was dark and dangerous and she was half afraid of him, but she realised that her fear had never been for her safety. She was not, nor had she ever been, afraid he would hurt her, no matter how he had behaved; she was afraid because he awakened feelings in her that she could neither control nor ignore.

  ‘Well?’ he said. ‘What is it to be? Do you trust Maria, or do you trust me?’

  ‘I trust you,’ she said.

  He gave a ghost of a smile, then said: ‘We must go.’

  ‘My aunt is in —’

  ‘Hull. I know. All I need to know now is if that is where Maria has gone.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  They went out into the corridor. The landlord was bustling towards them with a hamper. Lord Torkrow paid him a guinea, and gave him another, saying: ‘Tell me, which is the best way to Hull?’

  ‘Why, bless me, you’re the second person to ask me that this morning. The young lady was just making enquiries. You follow the road here until you reach the main road . . . ’

  Helena grew more and more impatient as the man went on. She could not understand why Lord Torkrow listened patiently to the innkeeper’s directions. Surely he knew the way?

  ‘Thank you,’ said Lord Torkrow.

  The landlord went about his business, and they went out into the courtyard.

  ‘Why did you ask for directions?’ she said.

  ‘Because I hoped that Maria might have done the same, and then I could discover which way the landlord had sent her. He will have told her the main route, as he told me, but it is not the quickest. We will beat her yet.’

  His carriage was waiting for them. Fresh horses had been harnessed, and were champing at the bit. Eldridge opened the door and let down the step. Lord Torkrow stood back, letting Helena go in, and then followed her inside. The step was folded, the door closed, and as soon as Eldridge had climbed onto his box they were on their way.

  Helena remembered the last time she had been in a carriage with him. How long ago it seemed! She had been afraid of him, and worried about her aunt. She was still worried. Where had Aunt Hester gone? And why?

  ‘Why did my aunt leave the castle?’ she said. ‘Did you send her away with your brother’s child? And why?’

  ‘Yes, I sent her away, but she was glad to go. She wanted to protect George as much as I did, and she knew it was the best way.’

  ‘But why was he in danger? His parents are dead, so surely you are the boy’s guardian?’

  ’My nephew is not the son of my brother. My brother died childless. The boy is my sister’s son.’

  ‘Your sister?’

  ‘Yes. My sister. Anna. You saw her portrait.’

  Helena cast her mind back to the portrait gallery and remember the family portrait hanging there. It had shown Lord Torkrow and his brother as children, and there had been a little girl standing next to them.

  ‘She was a beautiful girl,’ he said with a far-away look on his face. ‘She had soft, dark hair and a mouth that was made to smile. She was my father’s favourite child, and my brother and I did not mind, because she was a favourite with us as well. She was the youngest, and we all took pleasure in looking after her.’

  He turned to her. ‘I owe you an explanation. I did not know you were Mrs Carlisle’s niece, and so I said nothing about your aunt when you came to the castle. But you must be worried.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘She is safe, in Hull, with my sister. My sister has not had a happy life,’ he explained. ‘When she was eighteen years old, my parents took her to London for a Season. She met a man there, John Morton, and she quickly became besotted with him. My father was displeased. Morton was older than her by some fifteen years. My father’s warnings fell on deaf ears, however, because Morton had a way with women, and my sister was entranced.

  ‘My father hoped it would come to nothing, that Morton would tire of her and turn to someone nearer his own age, but instead, Morton asked for her hand in marriage. My father was reluctant to agree, but Anna was in love, and so he gave his consent.

  ‘At first all went well. Anna was happy, living with her husband in Norfolk. But then things started to change. She seemed quiet and withdrawn. I was anxious, and one day I paid her a surprise visit. I found her with a bruised face, and I told her she must leave her husband and come back with me to the castle, where my father, my brother – for he was still alive at the time - and I would protect her. She refused. I thought of carrying her bodily out of the manor house, but she told me she was with child. Her husband had been delighted with the news, she said. He had stopped hitting her, and had told her that he had only done it because he had been frustrated at the lack of an heir.

  ‘I called on Anna many times over the next few years. My brother and sister-in-law also called on her, often unexpectedly, to make sure she was all right. She never had any bruises, and she was radiantly happy. She loved her little boy, and her husband doted on the child, too.

  ‘I was reassured. Besides, I had other things to think of. My sister-in-law and my brother both died. Anna came to the funeral, but she never visited the castle after that, and I never went to the manor. I was lost in my own labyrinth of darkness, and had no thought to spare for anyone else.

  ‘So things went on. And then came a day, a few months ago, when, on a wild night, my sister came to the castle. She was almost collapsing with exhaustion when I took her in, and she had been badly beaten. The mark of a whip was on her back – but I will say no more. Her cur of a husband had taken to hitting her again, and she had borne it silently, because she had known that if she left him he would never let her see her son again. But then he had threatened little George. She waited until he became unconscious through drink, and, persuading a groom to help her, she took her son and set out for the castle.

  ‘She had a little
money, which she had kept hidden from her husband, and she used it on a ticket for the stage coach, before walking the last part of the journey.

  ‘Even when she reached the castle she did not feel safe. She was terrified that her husband might follow her, and so I took her to the attic, and I called on Mrs Carlisle to take care of her and the boy.’

  ‘So that is why the maid heard crying in the attic,’ said Helena. ‘It was George.’

  ‘Yes. The rumours spread. It was easy to dismiss the sound as ghosts amongst the villagers, but I knew that if Morton came near, he would know well enough what it meant. I moved Anna and the boy to the secret room, but even so, Anna did not want to stay at the castle – she lived in hourly dread of him finding her - but she was by this time too ill to leave. She had caught a fever, travelling through the cold and the snow. And so I asked your aunt if she would take little George to Hull, where Mr and Mrs Vance would care for him. She agreed readily. She felt sorry for my sister and nephew. She was to stay with George until my sister was well enough to join her in Hull, and then my sister would go to Italy, where she has a godmother. Anna would be able to raise her son in safety, somewhere her husband would never find her.’

  ‘But I still don’t understand about Mary – Maria,’ said Helena.

  ‘She is Morton’s mistress, and would do anything for him. I followed you this morning – I left the castle in time to see the carriage disappearing into the distance, so I saddled a horse and rode after it. I lost it for a time, and rode aimlessly across the moor, but then I caught sight of it heading towards the stage post. When I arrived there, Eldridge told me he had taken you to Mary’s cottage. I rode across the moor and saw you setting out in the trap, and I was finally able to catch up with you at the inn. I saw Maria clearly as I relinquished my horse to one of the ostlers, and I recognized her at once. I assumed you must be in league with her.’

  ‘And so you followed me into the inn.’

  ‘Yes. I wanted to know who you were and what you had told her. I also wanted to know where Morton was. I knew he would not be far from Maria.’

  ‘I have met him, I think,’ said Helena. ‘He is tall, with dark hair and a slack face?’

  ‘Yes. That is the result of the drink. But how did you meet him?’

  ‘He and Mary – Maria – took a cottage near the castle. I met Maria when I was out walking one day. It came on to rain and she invited me into her cottage.’

  ‘That was a fortunate meeting for her. Otherwise, if she had not come across you accidentally, she would have had to approach you at church.’

  ‘She introduced me to Morton, but she said he was her brother. She tried to find out where my aunt had gone by saying Aunt Hester had left a book in the cottage. She asked for a forwarding address.’

  ‘Ah, that was clever.’

  ‘I knew the talk of the book was a ruse, but at the time I thought —’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I thought that you had done away with my aunt, and I thought Mary was worried about my aunt’s disappearance, too.’

  ‘And now? Are you convinced I have not done your aunt any harm?’

  ‘Yes, I believe I am.’

  He smiled. She had never seen such a smile on his face. It was like a sliver of sunshine on a squally day.

  ‘May I know your name? Your true name?’ he asked.

  ‘It is Helena.’

  ‘I am pleased to meet you, Helena Carlisle,’ he said. ‘Even though you have caused me a great deal of unease over the last few weeks,’ he added with a wry smile.

  ‘Did you suspect I was an impostor from the beginning?’ she asked curiously.

  ‘No, not then. I thought there was something you were hiding, but when I saw you had no wedding ring I thought you were lying about being married. You seemed very young, and I thought you had lied about your age in order to secure a position.’

  ‘I was dismayed when you looked at my finger,’ she said. ‘I began to realize it would be difficult to keep up the pretence. When did you begin to suspect I might be in league with your brother-in-law?’

  ‘It is difficult to know. From the beginning, I felt that something was not right, but I did not know what. You were more outspoken than my previous housekeepers, and you asked more questions. Then, too, you seemed very interested in the attic. It could just have been a natural desire to explore the castle, or indeed it could have been fear: you could have heard the rumours about ghosts and wanted to set your mind at rest. But when Miss Parkins found the handkerchiefs in your room embroidered with the initial C we began to be more suspicious, although we still could not be certain. Neither of us realised the truth, that the C stood for Carlisle. We both thought it stood for a Christian name: Catherine, Caroline . . . we thought of every name, and tried to remember if Morton had known any women whose names had begun with C. We could not recall one, but he had many women and we did not know them all.’

  ‘I was alarmed when I knew Miss Parkins had been in my room, and it was worse when I realised she had found the handkerchiefs,’ said Helena. ‘She made me feel like a mouse being watched by a cat. I was frightened of her.’

  ‘And you were wise to be so. She is a formidable adversary. She came to the castle with my mother, when my mother was a bride, and she was devoted to her, as she was devoted to my mother’s children. If you had meant harm to my sister, Miss Parkins would have stopped at nothing to protect her.’

  The carriage turned to the right and ahead of them there was softer countryside. They were leaving the moors behind. In the distance, a town could be seen. Smoke was rising from the chimneys. To the people who lived there, it was an ordinary day. They were paying visits, shopping, visiting the circulating library, going riding, attending to business . . . but to Helena, it was a day of hope and revelation.

  ‘Why did you not turn me out of the castle?’ she asked, as the carriage finally turned into the main road and bowled along between houses and neatly kept gardens.

  ‘Because if you were innocent, I did not want to deprive you of your livelihood, and if you were a pawn of Morton’s I wanted you close by, so that I could watch you. I did not want you going to him with the things you had seen and heard. And so I bided my time.’

  ‘Until I showed my hand by taking your carriage?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And so now what do we do?’

  ‘We go to Hull. We hope to arrive before Maria and Morton. We tell Anna she can delay no longer, and we put her and her son on a ship bound for Italy.’

  Chapter Twelve

  They fell into a companionable silence. Now that she was no longer afraid of him, Helena felt herself relax in his company. There was a softer side to him, one she had only glimpsed, but one she would like to know better.

  But that was unlikely, she told herself. She would have no reason to remain at the castle once she had found her aunt. She would have to leave, and, unless she visited her aunt in the future, she would never see him again. She felt her spirits sink. He had become important to her, and she could not bear to think of their parting. She looked out of the window in an attempt to distract her thoughts.

  They were now travelling along busier roads, which were better kept than those on the moors. There were less ruts, and the potholes were few and far between. Helena watched the scenery change, going from countryside to town, and finally to coast. As the coach crested a hill, she saw the sea sparkling blue and placid beneath her. There was the cry of sea gulls, and the smell of salt was in the air. She licked her lips, and found that she could taste it.

  ‘We are almost there,’ he said.

  Helena felt her interest quicken. She would soon see Aunt Hester again! And she would see Lord Torkrow’s sister. She wondered what Anna would be like. She tried to remember the portrait, but she could remember very little, and besides, Anna had been much younger there. She was dark, that much Helena remembered, but little more.