A Castle in Cornwall

by Laura Briggs

  "Security guards?"

  "Mrs. Lewison has a morbid fear of the press," I said. "Oh, Matt, honestly, it's a tiny bit like being trapped in an English comedy novel. They're like caricatures more than characters — Lady Astoria with her fearsome walking stick, and Mrs. Lewison with her nervous headaches. Even the groom's family might as well be Scandinavian stereotypes. They're even all blond."

  I heard him chuckle heartily. "It sounds dramatic. Somehow, I can't imagine you're not enjoying it a wee bit, at least. Not you, who love a challenge, the odder the better."

  I sighed. "I miss you," I said. "I miss our cottage. Don't get me wrong; Azure Castle is beautiful, and the view from the back gardens is breathtaking —"

  "I rather think I could have spent days sitting there," said Matt. "I envy you."

  "Well, don't," I said. "I'd trade it to be home at Rosemoor, and have the view of the cliffs at the manor house." Whether I liked it or not, the number of days I had left in Cornwall was dwindling, and I wanted to spend most of them with the place and people I had come to love.

  "Speaking of home, I started packing this evening," said Matt. "Charlotte scrounged some boxes for us from behind her shop. I haven't gotten far ... just the prints in the living room, and a few books."

  My throat tightened, oddly enough. "Wow," I said. "I hadn't even thought about it yet." All of our things, our mementoes from this life, couldn't be left in place on Rosemoor's shelves or in its cupboards. It wasn't our cottage anymore, once we vacated — even Matt's beloved plants couldn't be left behind.

  "Charlotte's offered for us to store a few things in her shop's loft, if we'd like. We'll be shipping some of it, of course, but it might be a good option for your desk, and my gardening tools and pots."

  Not the rest of the furniture, of course. It belonged to Rosemoor Cottage. And whose home would that be when we were gone? I couldn't bear to think about it yet.

  "Did you know that some of the village is organizing a farewell party for us? Charlotte told me when I collected the boxes."

  "That's sweet," I said. "And if it didn't make me want to cry, I'd probably be thrilled."

  "I miss you," he said.

  "I miss you, too. But I already said that, didn't I?"

  You can find a way to keep the cottage. There's still time, I told myself. You're going to come home to it again.

  ***

  Kitty:

  On Monday, Millie kept her word, and had the cast list ready for the meeting. As usual, she made a dramatic fuss over telling us the play and the players.

  "In less than three weeks, we will dazzle the community with ... A Midsummer Night's Dream," she announced from center stage.

  A chorus of groans from some for this rather overdone chestnut of community players, with cheers from those who love Shakespeare in any season. I calculated my chances of ending up as a handmaiden for the Amazonian queen, when Nathan joined me in the neighboring seat.

  "Did you get a part?" he asked. Copies of the cast list were being passed out now; my hands held one, but my eyes were having trouble finding my name. Nerves, I suppose.

  "Lucky you," said Lorrie, who popped into our conversation from the row behind us. "You landed Hermia — first time out of the gate, too."

  "Hermia?" said Nathan. "Who's —?"

  "She's the girl in the love triangle," said Lorrie. "And I — I am poor, sad Helena, who wants so desperately to be loved by Hermia's unwanted fiancé Demetrius. Just my luck to play the unwanted woman."

  "Looks like I'm close to the bottom," said Nathan, studying the list. His eye was scanning the rest of the cast. "Who's playing your fiancé?"

  "Martin," I said. "And Lysander is —" I looked at the name, but that couldn't be right. Lyle Groves? 'Twasn't possible, was it?

  But it was him, walking into the theatre just now. Ripped jeans, work boots, leather waistcoat, t-shirt — the same overly-long, straight hair cut just above his shoulders, and jaw in need of a good shave. Lyle Groves in the flesh, who had already seen the cast list, and now spotted me.

  "KitKat!" he said. And before I could say anything, he picked me up and swung me into his arms like a doll. "How's tricks since I've been gone?"

  "Are you daft?" I wriggled free of his embrace so my feet touched the floor again. "Is that a way to greet someone you've not spoken to in three years?"

  Nathan's face was one of shock at this moment — not pleasant at all. He twitched once as though to do something about Lyle holding onto me; I think it was a good bit of effort on his part to make his countenance normal again when Lyle let go of me.

  "It's been an age, hasn't it? You haven't changed a bit. Got a proper job, I hear, no more peddling fish 'round the village."

  "Yeah," I said. "I didn't know you'd come back, though. Got tired of wandering around in a caravan? Or did it leave you stranded on the side of the road?" His leaving — that was the important part three years ago, when he'd tossed everything he owned into his brother's old camping van and taken off.

  "Got on with a mate in construction," he said. "Pouring concrete and what not. Doin' a bit of work over Falmouth way for the summer. Ginny talked me into joining this lot. Long time since the old drama crowd at school. Gawd, but Mr. Tremworth was a rotten old ghoul, wasn't he?"

  That careless smile — it hadn't changed a bit, either. But the part of me that had been angry enough to kick his teeth out had faded over time, so I didn't feel a twinge of longing to give him the long-overdue farewell blow from before.

  "So ... you two know each other?" Nathan glanced from him to me. "Old friends from school?"

  "'After' is more like," said Lyle, sliding his fingers into his denim's pockets. "Kat and I used to get up to all sorts of things in the village, though, before we hooked up in Land's End. Remember that party down by the coastal scenic park? Ginny got nabbed by the fuzz, o' course, when they crashed in. That's what she gets for having too many and taking her top off."

  I squirmed a bit. This wasn't the sort of story from my past that I wanted Nathan hearing — the days when I was part of a rowdier crowd, who drank a bit too much, got a bit careless when drunk, and did things in any frame of mind that were simply vandalism, or messing about with property of Ceffylgwyn's uptight residents. The Kat Alderson who was guilty of hanging about on their fringes at first; then, among other ambitious errors, of believing that a jerk like Lyle Groves really fancied her.

  "Sounds like quite a party," said Nathan. "So you're into community theatre, too?"

  "Aw, did a bit of playing at it when I was at school," said Lyle. "Got the knack for it, not that I ever use it. But like I said, one of me mates said they'd be short of players 'round here, and since I'm sticking around until the job's done over Falmouth way, I thought I'd pitch in."

  "Nathan," I said to Lyle, by way of introduction. "My ... good mate from work." I didn't know how else to put it, really. Nathan extended his hand and shook Lyle's.

  "I'm an event promoter in Truro," he said.

  "Got stuck across the Pond?" said Lyle. "They got planes that fly both ways, mate, in case you didn't know." A cocky smile with this joke; Lyle loved needling people. I didn't like to think about the fact that I once laughed when he did it.

  "Cornwall grew on me," said Nathan, who didn't seem to mind the joke. "I was working from London, but I decided to take my chances here for awhile. Guess I was persuaded by some of its charms." He almost sneaked a glance at me — not quite, but enough that Lyle didn't miss it.

  "You two?"

  Until we stood up a few moments ago, Nathan had been playing with the curls at the hollow of my neck. Probably not the most discreet maneuver on his part, if we were still a bit of a secret.

  "Come off it, Lyle," I said. "Don't be poking about in other people's business for a change, aye?"

  "So this is the new Lysander," said Rosie, sidling up to join us. "I remember you better for heaving a rock through me car's window at the park. Cost me a fair quid — and put you under the constable's nose fo
r a bit, it seems."

  Lyle did have the decency to look embarrassed. "I've grown up a bit since then," he said. "Maybe I'll make a decent Lysander now." His wink for this line was quick, and for both me and Rosie. Did he always have to behave like such a flirt around women? There was a time I overlooked that, too.

  "What part do you have?" Nathan asked Rosie.

  "Titania the Fairy Queen," she said. "Only way I'll ever be queen of a man's castle, it seems." Her grin was saucy. "At least it's a proper part with a bit of sex appeal — last time, I ended up the old handmaid in Romeo and Juliet. No balcony scene for me — not even as Margaret in Much Ado."

  "Balconies are overrated," I muttered. "Who wants some bloke yelling at them from the garden below?" All this talk of love stories was making me a bit uncomfortable.

  "Who are you playing?" Lyle asked Nathan. Who checked the cast list one more time.

  "Um ... Starveling," he said. "A tailor. Somebody with next to no lines, I'm pretty sure." He noticed Lyle's place on the list. "Wow. You're ... practically second billing, aren't you?"

  "Like I said, I've done this before," said Lyle. "Only I'll be onstage snogging you this time, love." His words were for me, but the grin and wink that came with them were a show for the general public now. "Where's our Demetrius slipped off to hide?"

  "Martin had an emergency," piped up Lorrie. "Gerard's reading for him tonight as a favor."

  "I could ..." Nathan began, but Millie was calling us to order for the first reading. I caught Nathan's sleeve and held him back as the others gathered around the stage.

  "Don't be jealous of him," I said, glancing in Lyle's direction. "It wasn't anything." Lame and awkward, these words, and not saying at all what I needed him to know. Not properly, anyway.

  "I'm not," he said. "Relax. It's theatre, right?" He gave me a smile.

  "All right, everyone!" said Millie. "Let's begin our read through so we're not here all night..."

  ***

  Julianne:

  "I wondered where you were," said Pippa. "Weren't you hungry? Gem's eaten practically all of Dinah's muffins —"

  "That isn't true!" protested Gemma. "I only took one extra to make a mush porridge for Edwin. He likes it soaked in sugared milk."

  "Heavens, don't feed him anymore of it," said Lady Amanda. "He's quite the solid little chap as it is — it'll be like carrying about a bandbox of bricks soon." In reply, Edwin giggled, then flung a handful of his creamed carrots and yams onto the baby tray.

  "I didn't mean to be late," I said, slipping into my chair. "I got lost again. I took a wrong turn looking for the room where Ms. Krensky left our sketches of the formal hall. I ended up in a gallery instead, and it took me forever to find my way back."

  The gallery had been full of tapestries that looked so old and frail I wondered if they were the preliminary trials of William the Conquerer's wife before the Bayeux's panels. A right turn at the end had taken me to a series of mostly-empty rooms, one of which had a glimpse of Azure's narrow sea view. In the end, I found my way back to the corridor where the guest’s rooms lay ... but not to Ms. Krensky's would-be office.

  "It's really a simple house to navigate," said Marjorie, buttering what had undoubtedly been the last of Dinah's muffins. "I can't imagine how you've become so lost. First floor is the grand hall and the main chambers, second floor is bedrooms and the old servant's wing, third floor is the private family quarters —"

  "I have the map you gave each of us," I said. "I just forgot it." I had left it — unfortunately — somewhere in the midst of my notes for Ms. Krensky. Since there were no muffins left, I took a slice of toast instead, and consoled myself with a jar of Dinah's special marmalade. One bite reminded me how much I had missed it.

  Today we were putting the formal hall's carpet and chairs into place, and moving in several massive stone flower urns that would hold the wedding's bouquets. The arrangement was regal, formal, and conveyed a hallowed elegance. It also seemed a touch cold right now, but given the odd behavior of the wedding party, maybe that wasn't completely out of character.

  I hadn't told anybody about Josephine's odd mementoes, of course; and nobody was talking about the fact that Mrs. Lewison and Ms. Krensky were the dominant opinions behind everything we were doing. Instead, I tried to focus on putting the urns in just the right spots — Kitty's floral arrangements called for generous sprays of baby's breath and stunning white lilies with mottled throats, with a bouquet of lilies, both large and small blossoms, for the bride.

  Josephine had seemed pleased with them. But it was a detached sort of pleased that really bothered me. If she wanted something else for the wedding, she needed to tell us. If she wanted to change things in secret, we would be her co-conspirators in undermining Ms. Krensky's regime of perfection, for instance.

  "Our commandant will insist on seeing the table's layout today," said Marjorie. "The presiding minister, a magistrate, and a society hostess whom she 'just dotes on' will be at tea to discuss the seating arrangement and the ceremony." Our seating chart currently had dubious gaps, where Helen simply couldn't decide whom to seat where. "I won't be here, since I have an errand to run on Samuel's behalf. What a pity." She smiled with this joke. "But I'll be back as quick as possible, in case she has questions you can't possibly answer."

  I was in the hall, retrieving a folding ladder that the caretaker had kindly located for me, when I saw a figure walking across the courtyard. A young woman in a pair of skinny denim jeans and a stylish long blouse, a looped scarf around her neck and a pair of sunglasses. Josephine, carrying a shoulder bag, was making her way towards a car turning around in the courtyard.

  Josephine was leaving. And that was completely not all right in her mother's book, since the whole point of being here was to hide until the wedding — and the furtive glances she gave the house before climbing inside the car proved that this was a secret outing. With less than two hours before Ms. Krensky's mandatory tea time, I wondered what Josephine could possibly be thinking.

  Was she running away?

  I couldn't throw open the window and call her back — the car was already pulling away. Marjorie was gone already, along with the only transportation I knew of — except —

  On impulse, I opened the door to the morning room. Despite her abundant energy, Lady Astoria was asleep in her chair, an open book on couture designs in her hands. I nudged her shoulder, gently.

  "Wha—Wilkins, what is the meaning —?" she began, then realized who I was. "What on earth do you want?" she asked. "Speak up, girl!"

  "Can I borrow your car?" I said. "Please. I have to ... to run an important wedding errand in the village." What the village could possibly supply, I hoped she wouldn't ask.

  "What the dickens? The car? Oh ... very well, I suppose. Ask Hidgens to give you the keys." She turned the page in her book, peering at a very stylish midnight-black gown in a shop window.

  It would be better for Hidgens to drive me, but I knew that meant someone else would observe Josephine's escape. I found the chauffer in the kitchen, having a cuppa, and he obligingly handed over the key to the Bentley parked outside.

  Behind its wheel, I took a deep breath, reminding myself it wasn't that hard. Matt had given me lots of pointers, hadn't he? And I hadn't scratched his car in the handful of shaky trips I'd made between home and Truro. I turned the key in the ignition, and shifted into gear, trying not to drive too fast down the steep lanes of Azure Castle's private road.

  If I could catch up, maybe I could get the driver's attention. But I hadn't any right to stop Josephine, unlike her mother's security team — just as I wasn't responsible if they discovered her missing come tea time. So what on earth did I think I was doing?

  The hired car was only now driving away to my right when I reached the bottom, and there was plenty of space between us. Josephine didn't recognize her aunt's hired vehicle, it seemed. We passed a road marker — Penzance was ahead. At least now it was clear that Josephine's errand wasn't in Aval Towan.r />
  Traffic was a bit trickier in Penzance, and I found myself growing nervous. But the hired car pulled over near the Pavilion — and Josephine emerged.

  By the time I managed to climb out of the car, she had disappeared. I hurried inside the first door, finding myself in the midst of a carnival.

  Family Activity Centre! proclaimed the nearest sign, with others directing visitors to food, video games, and other family-friendly entertainment. An abundance of large stuffed tigers and My Little Pony greeted me from prize booths — I realized that the miniature sparkly figurines in one of the display cases were identical to the one I had seen on Josephine's desk.

  A crowd of guests were busy at the fruit machines and the mechanical claw. I scanned the crowd for any sign of Josephine. I spotted a girl with long hair and darted in that direction, cut off by a group of children running excitedly from the bowling alley.

  Like me, Josephine was moving swiftly through the room. Looking for someone, I imagined — probably whoever gave her the sparkly pony, and wrote the notes to her. My heart sank as I pictured what this meant for poor Kristofer.

  "May I go, Mum? May I?" A child clutched his mother's arm and pointed towards the enticing lights and music of the video game zone. By the time they were past me, I caught only a glimpse of Josephine disappearing outside through the opposite door.

  "Wait! Josephine!" I yelled. If she heard me, she didn't turn around. I exited the entertainment venue, and spotted Josephine in the midst of a crowd enticed by some sort of street performance near the car park. In the distance, a boy in a hooded sweatshirt was watching the show as he talked on a mobile, his other arm holding a slim package. And it was towards him that Josephine's steps were carrying her rapidly.

  I took off running. A few people moved aside for me, and I heard someone scold me for pushing my way past them. The band's music drowned out any chances Josephine had of hearing me, and I had no idea what I would do if she did. What could I do to stop her? Should I? Ahead, I could see Josephine's target was emerging on the other side of the crowd now, in the car park, his quick stride moving faster than Josephine's as the crowd of onlookers hampered her steps.