Blanchland Secret

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘Thank you, sir. It is a generous offer, but I feel I must go myself.’

  ‘You are very obstinate, Miss Sheridan!’ Without warning, Guy stopped and took her hands in his. ‘Obstinate, difficult, determined to cause a scandal—’

  ‘I will thank you to be quiet, my lord!’ Sarah was pink with indignation. She dropped the muff and could not free herself to pick it up again. ‘Let me go! Someone will see us!’

  Guy shrugged. ‘Very probably! I cannot say that the thought disturbs me!’

  ‘Oh!’ Sarah tried disengage herself again. Guy refused to let go.

  ‘You yourself,’ Sarah said furiously, ‘are arrogant and high-handed—’

  ‘I believe you have already told me, Miss Sheridan!’ Guy was smiling down at her with the wicked amusement that always made Sarah’s pulse race.

  ‘If you are to accompany me to Blanchland, I trust that you will behave with decorum, my lord!’

  ‘I think that that is very unlikely. You had best be prepared for the worst!’ Guy turned her hand over and pressed a kiss on the palm. ‘Do not forget,’ he said caressingly, ‘that I still have to persuade you to accept my hand in marriage. I shall be doing my utmost to convince you!’

  Sarah wrenched her hands away, knowing she was trembling violently. It was intolerable that he should have such an effect on her!

  ‘Pray do not persist in this ridiculous jest, my lord! We both know you cannot mean it!’

  ‘Never more serious, I assure you, Miss Sheridan! As I said yesterday, you will have time to become accustomed to the idea.’ Guy was laughing at her. ‘What you will not have is the chance to refuse me!’

  Sarah drew breath for a scathing retort but broke off as the door swung open to reveal the butler, his expression as wooden as the door panels. ‘Luncheon is served, my lord. Miss Sheridan,’ he bowed politely, bending to retrieve the muff, ‘allow me, madam—’

  But he was talking to thin air. With a fulminating glance, Sarah had stalked off, leaving Guy still grinning as he watched her indignant figure walk out of sight.

  After lunch the sleet turned to light snow that lay like icing across the parkland.

  ‘Oh, how pretty!’ Amelia exclaimed, as she stood by Sarah in the library and looked out across the hills. ‘If it continues like this, I fear we may have to stay some time!’

  Sarah looked exasperated. ‘It is only five miles to Blanchland, Milly! If the worst comes to the worst, I shall walk there tomorrow!’

  Amelia’s face fell. ‘Would you not prefer to stay at Woodallan, Sarah? It is so pleasant—’

  ‘Of course I would rather stay here!’ Sarah said crossly. ‘How could I possibly favour Blanchland over this? The fact is that I have lost a week already since the letter arrived and—’

  She broke off, remembering that Amelia was not party to the letter’s contents. Amelia gave her a curious look.

  ‘Is time a material factor then? I had not realised.’

  ‘No, I am sorry.’ Sarah looked shamefaced. ‘I did not say…’

  Amelia pressed her hand. ‘Time enough for you to tell me all about it when you are ready.’ She gave Sarah a penetrating look. ‘I understand, however, that Lord Renshaw accompanies us?’

  Sarah felt the telltale blush creep into her cheeks. ‘So I am told. It was not at my instigation!’

  Amelia raised her eyebrows. ‘On his own inclination, then—’

  ‘No!’ Sarah realised she sounded too vehement and tried to calm down. ‘That is, he tells me that Frank wrote to Lord Woodallan, asking him to help me in my quest. Unfortunately, the Earl is too ill to accompany us, so…’ She shrugged.

  ‘So Lord Renshaw comes instead!’ Amelia frowned. ‘Are you sure about this, Sarah? It sounds all a hum to me!’

  Now it was Sarah’s turn to frown. ‘Whatever can you mean? Of course I am sure!’

  ‘Only that it seems a little odd. I am not sure why, but…’

  ‘Yet it must be so. Guy—Lord Renshaw,’ Sarah corrected herself meticulously, ‘knew of the purpose of my visit, and that can only have come from Frank’s letter.’

  Amelia shrugged lightly. ‘As you say, my love. I must surely be making a mystery out of nothing!’ She moved across to the writing box. ‘Now, since it is not really the weather to go out, I shall write some letters.’

  ‘I’ll sit with you and read a book,’ Sarah said, selecting one from the shelves. She settled in an armchair beside the roaring fire, and for a time there was no sound but for the pages turning softly and the scratch of Amelia’s nib on the paper. Sarah, however, was hardly concentrating. Amelia’s words had raised some doubts in her mind, yet she was unsure what it was that disturbed her. Never mind—tomorrow she would reach Blanchland at last and unravel the mystery of Olivia Meredith.

  Dinner was another very pleasant meal and was followed by charades and card-playing before bedtime. Lady Woodallan was chatting to Amelia as they ascended the stairs and it was completely by chance that Sarah, trailing a little behind, heard the conversation between father and son in the hall below.

  ‘You have told her that you will go, then,’ Lord Woodallan was saying as he lit the remaining candles to see them up to bed.

  ‘I have, sir.’ Guy sounded a little grim.

  ‘But not the rest? Not about—?’

  ‘No. It is as you wished.’

  ‘Good.’ Woodallan sounded relieved. ‘Then you will see to it, Guy. Find Miss Meredith—and make sure that Miss Sheridan does not—’

  Guy glanced up at that moment and Sarah shrank back into the darkness at the top of the stairs. Her mind was racing as she puzzled over what she had heard. So what Guy had told her was true, but only up to a point—his father did want him to accompany her to Blanchland, but not simply to give her his aid! Apparently he had his own reasons for wishing to find Olivia, and she was not to be made aware of them…

  ‘Sarah!’ Amelia called, a little impatiently. ‘Where are you? I am waiting to say goodnight!’

  She yawned widely as Sarah hurried up the remaining few steps, then gave her cousin an affectionate peck on the cheek. ‘Sleep well, my love!’

  But Sarah tossed and turned for over an hour as she tried to work out what connection the Woodallan family might have with Olivia Meredith and, more importantly, why she should not be privy to it. Her musings shed no light, however, and in the end she fell asleep, to dream that she was chasing a fair-haired girl across the park at Blanchland, but, just before she reached her, the girl disappeared.

  Chapter Six

  Blanchland stood on the top of a rise, surrounded on three sides by a woodland of tall pines. As the carriage drew nearer, all the occupants could see that it was a supremely elegant house of pinkish stone with a small gold cupola on the roof, where Lord Sheridan had once housed the telescope he had used for astronomical observations. In the morning sunlight, with the bright white fields as a backdrop, it looked very beautiful.

  Just seeing the house again almost brought tears to Sarah’s eyes. She blinked hard to keep them at bay and set her mouth in a determined line.

  ‘I had almost forgot how pretty it is…’

  They drove through Blanchland village, huddled at the bottom of the hill, and started the climb to the gates of the house. It was very quiet. The frost glittered in the sun but no one moved in the still landscape. Sarah repressed a shiver.

  She knew that Guy was watching her and the sympathy she could see in his eyes made her feel dangerously close to breaking down. As Amelia leant forward to speak to Greville, forgetting for a moment her antipathy to him, Guy bent close to Sarah and touched her gloved hand. The fleeting contact gave her both comfort and confusion.

  All had gone to plan that morning. They had left Woodallan early, sped on their way with the Earl and Countess’s good wishes and pressing invitations to return for Christmas. The Earl had shaken Guy’s hand and wished him luck, and Sarah had searched the face of both men for some clue to Guy’s secret errand at Blanchland, but there wa
s nothing. Her doubts gnawed at her and added to her disquiet, but there was nothing she could do until the time Guy chose to tell her—or she dared to ask him.

  Now that she had almost arrived, Sarah was prey to mixed feelings. Just seeing her old home again was emotional enough, but she was apprehensive as to what she might find there. Would Sir Ralph have ruined it beyond repair? Would he throw them all out into the snow—or worse, would he be indulging in some loathsome orgy? There was only one way to find out…

  The silence, as they drew up on the forecourt, was almost sinister. All the windows of the house were shuttered and nothing stirred.

  ‘Perhaps no one is at home,’ Amelia said hopefully. ‘It seems deserted. Perhaps we should go back to Woodallan—’

  ‘We only left there a half-hour ago!’ Sarah said firmly. She stepped forward and rang the bell hard. They all heard it echo distantly before the silence settled again. The horses stamped impatiently on the gravel and Sarah jumped. Her nerves were on edge and she knew she was not the only one. Greville was looking grim and exchanged a quizzical look with Guy, and Amelia was shivering and peering around fearfully, as though she expected satyrs to jump out of the nearby bushes.

  ‘Oh, good, there is no one here! Let us go at once! Sarah—’

  Sarah turned the door knob. The door was not locked and opened with a creak of protesting hinges that sounded loud in the morning quiet. Amelia gave a little shriek.

  ‘Oh, how Gothic! I declare, I will not set foot inside!’

  ‘Then pray wait in the cold!’ Sarah snapped, her nerves getting the better of her. ‘Gentlemen? Will you accompany me?’

  Greville and Guy followed her over the threshold and after a moment so did Amelia, who clearly preferred not to be left alone. Inside the house it was almost as cold as in the open air. Sarah could see her breath crystallise on the air before her.

  All the windows were shuttered and the hall was deep in darkness. She could just see the cobwebs that festooned the ornate central chandelier and the thick dust on the tiled floor. There was a stale smell in the air, the scent of dirt and decay. Sarah shivered violently.

  ‘It is scarce welcoming…’

  ‘Most quelling,’ Guy agreed. He strode forward and flung open a few doors. ‘Hello! Is anybody there?’

  His voice echoed strangely around the high ceilings, but there was no reply. Amelia gave a little shriek. ‘Oh, my goodness! How disgusting!’

  She was staring with fascination at a lewd statue of two entwined lovers raised on a plinth at the side of the hall. Their entangled limbs and suggestive expressions were grossly indecent. Sarah looked away hastily.

  ‘You are fortunate if that is all you find to offend you here, Lady Amelia,’ Greville said drily. ‘Since you have chosen to come here of your own free will, I beg you not to give way to missish vapours!’

  Amelia fired up at once. ‘Pray do not be so ungentlemanly, sir—’

  Sarah put her hands over her ears. She was not sure that she could stand their wrangling at that moment and evidently someone else felt the same.

  ‘God’s teeth!’ a voice roared from the top of the stairs. They all spun round. A huge man in straining waistcoat and breeches, a monstrous bedcap still perched on his balding head, was standing staring down on them. He clutched his head and gave a groan.

  ‘Madam, I must ask you to desist from that shrill cacophony! A termagant female is more than flesh and blood can stand!’

  Sir Ralph Covell, for it could only be he, did not cut an attractive figure. His embroidered waistcoat strained over an ample stomach and his little blue eyes peered suspiciously from beneath heavy black eyebrows. His complexion was high, suggesting a choleric temperament and his voice loud enough to shake the windows. Sarah, feeling a sudden rush of apprehension, wondered if he was about to throw them all out of the house without another word.

  Then, miraculously, Sir Ralph’s face broke into a smile of startling sweetness. He hurried down the stairs towards her, arms outstretched.

  ‘Well, if it isn’t little cousin Sarah! My, my, child, how you’ve changed! And what a pleasure to see you again!’

  He came forward, enfolding a stunned Sarah in a bear hug. ‘I never thought to see you at Blanchland again, my dear, but you are very welcome in your old home!’

  Sarah, released with all the breath crushed out of her, found herself struggling to form a suitable response. Only five minutes previously she had been racking her brains to think of a way to explain her presence at Blanchland. She had imagined Sir Ralph unwelcoming at best and most probably downright hostile. This bonhomie was as startling as it was unexpected. She caught Guy’s amused gaze on her and realised that he was trying not to laugh. Seeing her lost for words, he stepped forward, holding out a hand.

  ‘How do you do, Sir Ralph? I am Guy Renshaw—we have met in London, but several years back. I must apologise for our intrusion in your house—’

  ‘No intrusion at all, sir!’ Sir Ralph had seized Guy’s hand and was pumping it energetically. ‘My cousin is always welcome here and any friends of hers can only be my honoured guests!’ He bustled over to the windows and started to throw the shutters back with gusto. ‘That’s better! Let the dog see the rabbit!’

  His smiling gaze swept round to encompass Greville and Amelia, both of whom Sarah thought were looking as stunned as she felt.

  ‘Greville Baynham!’ Ralph beamed. ‘Remember you from that club in Bath last year! Now, what was its name…?’

  Greville cleared his throat, looking discomposed for the first time. ‘Sir Ralph. May I make you known to my betrothed, Lady Amelia Fenton?’

  This time, Amelia did not argue with him, but dropped a little curtsy. She was looking quite bewildered. Sir Ralph smiled sunnily. ‘Delighted, my dear, delighted! Would be more delighted if you could speak in a slightly softer tone, though! My head this morning, don’t you know…’ He turned back to Sarah, a slight frown marring his brow.

  ‘Sarah, my dear, you are most welcome to visit, as I hope I have made clear! However, there is one small problem…’ Sir Ralph came to an unhappy stop and rubbed his hands together with undoubted embarrassment. A deeper shade of red came over his already puce countenance. He looked like a schoolboy caught out in some unfortunate escapade. He stumbled on. ‘You see…you may not be aware…I hold small house parties here every so often…my revels, as I like to call them—’

  ‘Indeed, sir, I am aware.’ Sarah tried not to smile as she wondered how her cousin would broach this delicate subject. It was proving extremely difficult to dislike Ralph, for he seemed as eager to please as an overgrown puppy.

  ‘Ah, good.’ Sir Ralph looked gratified. ‘Good! I rather thought that my parties were getting a name for themselves! How agreeable! But—’ he suddenly seemed to recall the problem ‘—I am not at all certain, however, that they are the sort of affairs for a gently bred young lady! There are gentlemen, you know, and ladies of…ah…’ He floundered to a halt.

  ‘Dubious virtue?’ Guy supplied, helpfully.

  ‘Oh, you mean Cyprians!’ Sarah said heartily. ‘Why, yes, cousin Ralph, I have heard all about them!’

  Ralph looked slightly winded. ‘You have?’ He recovered himself a little. ‘But perhaps you did not realise—there are masques and plays, and a pagan ceremony to celebrate the winter solstice—’

  ‘I will not regard it,’ Sarah said blithely, ignoring Amelia’s look of horror and Guy’s amusement. ‘If you are happy for me to be your guest, cousin Ralph, I will only thank you for your generosity!’

  Ralph frowned again. It was obvious that his mind was currently too befuddled to unravel the puzzle before him. ‘I find it most singular that you were aware of Blanchland’s reputation yet still chose to come here!’ he said at last, clearly puzzled. ‘I do not like to criticise, Sarah, my dear, but I do not feel it is at all the way for a young lady to go on! Why, like as not you will find yourself with your reputation in tatters! I do feel you should show a little more concern!
’

  Sarah dropped a meek curtsy. ‘I am persuaded that you are correct, cousin Ralph! Mama always said that I had no decorum! I am so very sorry if I have shocked you!’

  Now it was Sir Ralph’s turn to appear lost for words. ‘I do not expect that you will be staying long…’ he said hopefully.

  ‘Oh, no!’ Sarah agreed with a blithe smile. ‘It is simply that Frank asked me to conduct a little business in the neighbourhood, but I expect that I shall be gone directly! And do not worry that I will disturb you, cousin Ralph! I shall be so quiet you will scarce know I am here!’

  She heard Guy laugh and smother it with a cough.

  ‘Well, then…’ Sir Ralph seemed a little at a loss, clearly uncertain how to deal with his unorthodox relative. ‘Well, then,’ he said again, lamely, ‘you will need rooms, I suppose, and refreshment…’ His shoulders slumped as though the thought of it was almost too much. ‘I will call Marvell. Marvell is my general factotum…’ he glanced at the clock ‘…if he is from his bed…Pray excuse me! No way to greet ladies…If you would care to wait in the drawing-room, I shall see you are served with coffee! Join you shortly…’ And he hurried off, bellowing for the servants.

  ‘What an odd man,’ Amelia said, casting another doubtful glance at the statues as she followed Sarah into the drawing-room, ‘but he seems quite harmless! Perhaps we shall find that the Blanchland revels have been quite overrated!’

  Sarah would have liked to agree, but she had seen the wry look that had flashed between Guy and Greville, a look that said louder than any words that their troubles were only beginning.

  ‘It’s quite disgusting!’ Amelia said indignantly later, throwing herself down on Sarah’s bed and causing a huge dust cloud to rise into the air.

  ‘I know, Milly—’ Sarah sneezed and averted her eyes from the garish painting of naked nymphs cavorting in a stream that hung above the bed ‘—but you were aware of what it would be like here.’