“Well, let me paint a larger picture first. The gatehouse, where we are now, is five stories tall. The ground floor is the gallery, which you’ve already seen. The first floor is this armory.” Sebastian pointed upwards to the ceiling. “The next floor is only accessible from the spiral staircases. One side, the one you just mounted, Hazel, leads to my bedchamber. The other side, which I would like to save for the finale of our tour, is the library. There is a stairwell within each of the rooms leading to smaller towers with windowed-walls. They were once watchtowers for archers, but now they’re nothing more than rooms for meditation. The bedchamber and library are connected in the middle by a sitting room.”
“Why can’t we see the library now?” Liz was more curious at this point about his bedroom but scolded herself on such impure thoughts.
He smiled slyly. “I expect it to be your favorite room, so I’ve saved it for last. Interestingly, this room we’re in now used to be the great hall, while the gallery on the ground floor used to be the guardroom. I took some liberties with the renovations because I wanted a more modern layout, as well as one more suited to my life preferences.”
“I’m envious the lord’s chamber is next to the library. If I could design my perfect home, that’s exactly what I would do. But where is the lady’s chamber?” Liz asked, biting her lip sheepishly.
He coughed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “As I said, I renovated to suit my life’s circumstances. Since I never intended to marry, I turned the original lady’s chamber into the library. Should I change my mind…” He paused to look knowingly at Lizbeth, making her stomach flip-flop. “…my poor wife would have to sleep in the library.”
Liz and Hazel both laughed until he added, “I would assume she would prefer to share my bedchamber, however.”
The three stood awkwardly, Hazel’s laughter the last to die.
They followed him back to the gallery and into the north wing. The drawing room opened on the left with sets of windowed doors looking out to the beach, and opened on the right into the corridor, which had its own set of windowed doors leading to the inner courtyard. Beyond the drawing room was the dining room.
“Past this door is the kitchen, bakehouse, and servants’ quarters, which leads out to a small gatehouse for a private entrance into the curtain wall from the north slope. The stables are there, as well. This is where we continue our tour to the south wing.”
They walked outside and across the inner courtyard into the south wing, which housed upstairs the guest accommodations, and on the ground floor a ballroom and a parlor, doors from the parlor leading back to the gallery. Such rooms seemed out of character, and when pressed, Sebastian explained that many of the rooms had already been renovated and designated by his great grandfather, so he left them to focus on the areas more meaningful to him. In time, he may repurpose the entertainment areas since he never entertained.
“All rooms in the castle,” he explained, “are two-stories high, have a view to both the courtyard and to the ocean, and feature a fireplace large enough to walk into. In the dead of winter, the chill creeps its way through the stone, so fireplaces are essential. During the summer, the castle becomes quite warm, hence all of the doors to the outside to promote crosswinds.”
Liz wondered if Hazel was bored silly. If this had been any other home, she might have been, as well, but she couldn’t help throughout the tour imagining herself living here with him, envisioning what his life must be like within these walls, and certainly she couldn’t deny him the pride of showing them around when he had made it clear that no one other than his cousin had ever visited his castle after the renovations. Given their first quarrel had been over the legend of his castle, she knew without doubt this was one of his most valued lifeworks.
Linking hands again, Sebastian walked them through the guest accommodations, and then showed them the morning room and conservatory of the east wing, followed by the upper floors of both wings, many of the rooms still a blank slate ready to be designated into a music room, a billiards room, studios for woodworking and craftsmanship, additional guest quarters, or whatever his imagination could fathom.
Following the completion of the indoor tour, he ushered them out to a sheer cliffside. With each passing minute she fell more in love with Dunstanburgh.
“I don’t know how much either of you know about castles, but since I’m giving this tour, you’ll have to suffer through some of my renovation processes.” He winked at Liz, his hand still holding hers. “What you’ve just seen is the don-jon, often known as the keep. The term is misleading, in a way, because this castle has a concentric design with an outer quadrangular curtain and an inner quadrangular wherein the inner walls of the castle serve as the keep itself rather than a central and separate building as the keep. It’s the same design as Windsor Castle.
“This is all I’ve been able to renovate. My great-grandfather who first began to rebuild it in its original splendor, made massive structural changes. I followed his plan with alterations of my own. His purse was much larger than mine at the outset of restoration, so I am pleased he renovated as much as he did or else I would be deep in debt already and living under a leaky roof.”
Walking along the perimeter of the cliffside, Liz could see where the curtain wall ended, leaving much of the property open to the sea.
Sebastian continued, “It may be a castle, but I wanted it to feel more like a Tudor manor, a comfortable home with those one-hundred-and-eighty-degree views so valued by the Tudors. I’ve added glass doors, where at one point there were only arrow slits or walls. I took liberties to make it feel more like a home and less like a fortress.”
The wind whipped around them so fiercely, she had to strain to hear him. A strong gust sent her side-stepping towards him. She grabbed onto his arm and used him as a shield against the wind as they walked. He laughed and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her to his side.
She felt at home here, much like she felt on her cliff in Trevena. Rather than walking half a mile to visit her cliff, this castle lived on a cliff. The cliff and beach were different, the terrain more so, but she felt at home nonetheless. She never wanted to leave. She wanted to send her aunt on her way and remain in this myth-steeped castle forever.
“I’m not accustomed to you being so quiet. You aren’t disappointed by the views, are you?” He eyed her, his thumb caressing her shoulder.
“Far from it,” she reassured. “I could look at these views every day for the rest of my life, Sebastian.” Liz said before she could stop herself.
“Could you?” he questioned quietly, studying her from between the flying wisps of his hair.
She smiled self-consciously, looking back to the ocean. The sun still shone, bouncing off white-capped waves, but dark clouds loomed to the south, bringing in a fierce wind that pushed the waves against the one-hundred-foot cliff below.
Liz had once imagined kissing Sebastian on a cliff. At the time she had dreamt of her favorite headland in Trevena, but now it all made more sense that she would kiss him on this cliff, on his cliff. She closed her eyes to listen to the ocean, feel the wind against her skin, and imagine his lips against hers.
Oh, to live here with him, to kiss him on this promontory every day. She didn’t just feel at home with the castle, but at home with Sebastian. She was seeing a piece of his soul, this castle a reflection of him. Never had she imagined he lived in such a place, that he was so naturally at ease here without any of the reserve or unhappiness she often saw in his eyes.
Hazel interrupted her fantasy by saying, “Carry on, young man. What’s next?” Hazel shielded her eyes from the sun, clearly wishing she had grabbed her parasol.
“Well, there’s naught else that has been renovated, sadly. I hope to one day turn the two ruined towers into astronomy conservatories, but for now they do at least have climbable stairs that afford a marvelous view of the cove on one side and Emb
leton beach on the other. If the two of you are daring, we could walk down to explore the beach.” Sebastian, too, held his hand to his forehead in mock salute to block the sun.
The darker clouds from the south were briskly heading their direction, promising to blot out the sun. She wondered what might happen if they were forced by foul weather to stay at the castle for the night.
“I will leave such exploring for younger legs, thank you very much,” Hazel said. “But if you wouldn’t mind, I am ready for that lunch you promised.”
Lizbeth doubted Aunt Hazel would be derelict in her duties long enough for a private beach stroll with Sebastian, but she would much rather that than lunch, especially when this may be her only chance to see the castle and one of her last chances to have Sebastian alone. She silently prayed for a torrential downpour to trap them at the castle.
“One last part of the tour before we return,” Sebastian insisted.
Hazel huffed but followed him as he led them down the slope to a peninsula where a large gazebo with stone benches looked out to the sea.
Sebastian waved his hands for them to sit and promptly took the spot next to Liz. Hazel sat on the far side to admire the unobstructed view of the sea, her back to them. Liz wondered if the curtain wall had once extended this far, as well, or if the cliff had been protection enough against assailants.
“This is one of my favorite seats, especially in the early mornings,” he said to Lizbeth, knowing Hazel couldn’t hear him over the wind and waves.
The clouds rolled in, pulling behind them another fog. Please rain. Please rain. Please rain. Lizbeth chanted as the fog worked its way around the south side of the hill, the view to the north, humorously, still brightly sunny.
Sebastian seemed unmoved by the looming darkness. “As you know, I have five earldoms and one barony. This is the barony. It is small, only one thousand acres before it becomes the Annick duchy, but it is my oasis. Along the outskirts, I’ve developed a bit of the land to generate money, namely with a timber farm and sawmill, a bee farm, a deer park which we passed through, and sheep and cattle farm. All are tended by tenants. I’ve kept all the land leading to the castle undeveloped for my private residence. I plan to keep it that way. I want the landscape to remain natural, void of formal gardens or Scottish golf courses, not on my moors,” he said with a soft laugh.
Liz admired the twinkle of his eyes. He was so alive. No brooding, no sullen moodiness, just full of life and happiness.
“I love it here, Sebastian,” Liz said adamantly.
“Do you?” He implored, as though he had hoped to impress her, hoped she would love it here.
Or maybe that’s what she wanted him to hope.
“Everything here is full of magic. Can’t you feel the tingle?” She shouted to Hazel.
Hazel tittered and shouted back, “I think that’s the sea air, love, and possibly a spot of rain.”
Sebastian cut in. “No chance of rain today. The fog here is a haar, or a sea fret as we call it in Northumberland, and it haunts the coast. It is most common in the early mornings when the warm air meets the cold sea temperatures. Depending on the wind, the fog can stick around for hours, making travel nigh impossible, and sometimes, as with today, it will move on in minutes.”
Even as he spoke, the clouds descended on their gazebo, shrouding them in the same gray fog that had shielded the castle from view earlier. The mist was so thick, she couldn’t see Hazel across the gazebo.
Before she could remark on the weather, Sebastian leaned towards her and pressed his lips against hers, taking advantage of the limited visibility and her vulnerability. As soon as his lips touched hers, a wet warmth throbbed between her legs.
She reached for his shoulders and gripped them with hungry desperation, greeting his lips with hers parted. His tongue flicked against hers, and then he was gone, hidden by the fog and out of reach.
Oh, heavens, what if that was their final embrace, she thought despairingly.
She stopped herself from crying out for him. Closing her eyes, she cooled from his touch and tried not to swoon from the onslaught of loss at his departure.
“If we wait,” he said against the roar of the wind, “the clouds and mist will pass.”
They waited until the clouds passed, taking with them the fog and the promise of rain.
He looked between Hazel and Liz, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Thank you both for coming. It means more than I can say to share this. Although Drake has been here a handful of times, he’s only made it as far as my study and reminds me often the whole renovation is a preposterous waste of time and money.”
“But it’s not a waste. Not when you’ve produced such splendor, not when you live in this paradise,” Liz defended, still tingling from the magic, or the sea air, or maybe from his kiss.
Hazel cleared her throat. “The tour is much appreciated. That said, you two may enjoy these noisy winds, but I’ve had as much as I can handle. I can barely hear myself think. May we retreat inside for lunch?” Hazel stood before either could argue.
After lunch, Sebastian offered the tour finale of the library. Lizbeth was ever aware of the ticking of time, their visit nearly at an end. While she knew she needn’t be too disappointed yet since they weren’t to return to Cornwall until the end of the following week, she suspected if he wasn’t going to take advantage of her visit to his home, the prospects were hopeless. Hazel might say she was giving up too early, but she felt she had waited long enough. Stolen kisses were wonderful, but if that was all she could ever expect, it wasn’t enough. It bordered on insulting.
Now, as much as she had looked forward to seeing the library, she hardly saw the point anymore. Why torment herself with yet another room she’d want to live in but never be given the opportunity to do so?
Hazel seemed just as unenthusiastic with his suggestion. She retorted, “I don’t mean to disappoint either of you, but I do believe I cannot climb another set of stairs. You have no small home nor shortage of inclines, sirrah. Lizbeth, you can see it if you wish, but I’m staying in the parlor. Think of me what you will.”
“We won’t think any less of you, Hazel,” Sebastian reassured. “I fear I will lose Lizbeth to a fantastical world of literature as soon as we ascend the stairs, so consider yourself momentarily fortunate to retire to the parlor. Lizbeth, would you still care to see the library?”
With a nod, she followed him.
Chapter 22
Sebastian’s library, a dark-stained oak sanctuary, greeted the pair with an impressive two-story domed ceiling, wall-lined shelves with tens of thousands of books, and floor to ceiling windows punctuating the lengths of the shelves. To Sebastian, ascending the stone stairwell into this room was an ascension into heaven itself.
His desk, a slab of polished wood, stood guard in front of a floor to ceiling stained glass window of Excalibur held in the hand of the Lady of the Lake. Rolled parchment littered the desk next to neat stacks of paperwork. An almost hidden stone staircase next to the stained glass led to the smaller tower, and a doorway on the opposite side of the room led to the private sitting room.
Jacquard woven tapestries with wooden and gold placards framed the hearth on the far wall, a sitting area in front of the walk-in fireplace. Half of the room rounded with the tower, custom shelves crafted to fit the concave shape. Two railed ladders leaned against the shelves to aid in reaching books.
A catwalk stretched around the room to allow access to the second-floor books, a rounded oak staircase leading from the main floor to the catwalk tucked in a far corner. A rococo style mural encircled the ceiling with the Arthurian knights parading around a center medallion that instead of being decorative plaster as with most ceilings, was an open glass sky light, flooding the room with bright indirect sunlight.
Sebastian searched Liz’s expressions for hints to her perceptions. She seemed to like his home, and that m
eant more to him than words could say. He let nerves get the best of him over the week, causing him to worry about her reaction to the castle. Even if she favored him, she may not care for his way of life.
What if she thought it was too far from civilized society? What if she hated the temperamental weather? What if she turned in disgust from his choices in decor? What if the glimpses of his passions, nay, his obsessions, frightened her?
So many what ifs. He felt exposed showing her his home, part of his soul laid bare for her. If she didn’t love his home, she could never love him.
As far as he could tell, so far, she appeared enchanted, or perhaps that should be enchanting. He couldn’t keep from touching her, from looking at her, a school boy infatuated by his first crush.
He stepped back, inviting her to explore the room at her leisure, to touch and inspect. She stood in front of his tapestry collection, all Arthurian themed. The largest one in the room told the entire tale from left to right in pictorial form, the first scene showing Arthur pulling the sword from the stone, and the last scene showing him in armor with his knights.
Her slender fingers touched the tapestry as she read its story.
Drake had always told him how foolish he was to obsess over myths. His passion would not be quelled, but that didn’t lessen the hurt he felt when everyone, even his cousin, dampened his interests. Studying legends is foolish. Restoring a castle is a waste of money. Reading of other religions is sacrilege. He finally learned not to share his personal interests.
While some might find his collecting a fascinating hobby, it was much deeper. The studying of legends gave him a reason to live during his darkest hours. He found in King Arthur a role model, the kind of man he wanted to be. Few would understand that. Would she?
Lizbeth stood in front of a tapestry inspired by The Faerie Queen. “What is this one? It doesn’t have a placard.”
“It’s ‘The Red Cross Knight Slaying a Dragon’ from that very book you were reading when we first met.” He walked over to her, placing his hand on the small of her back and looking up at the tapestry with her.
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