Blanchland Secret

by Nicola Cornick

  Sarah mentally damned him for his perception. ‘I had not thought of it,’ she lied, evading his eyes. ‘Since I made little progress yesterday, I am at a loss to know what to do next. And you, my lord?’ She recovered her poise sufficiently to look straight at him. ‘Do you have any plans in that direction?’

  Guy shrugged easily. ‘I think not. I am, however, entirely at your disposal if you wish me to escort you—’

  ‘Oh, no,’ Sarah said, too quickly, ‘I should not put you to that trouble, sir! That is, if I should decide to make further enquiries…’

  ‘Of course.’ Guy rescued her smoothly from her floundering. His perceptive gaze swept over her once more. ‘If you should change your mind, Miss Sheridan—’

  ‘Oh, I shall not!’ Sarah said hastily. ‘I feel too tired today to go venturing far!’ The locket and the note seemed to be burning a hole in her pocket and she turned her face away to hide her confusion.

  ‘The consequence of your late night excursion to the library, I expect!’ The mockery was back in Guy’s tone. ‘I trust you found your way back to your bed safely, Miss Sheridan!’

  Sarah could feel herself blushing. ‘Of course! I am not afraid of Blanchland after dark, my lord! I grew up here! Now, if you will excuse me, it grows cold and I would wish to be indoors.’

  Guy bowed slightly. ‘I will see you later then, Miss Sheridan! If you are fortunate, you may find that your cousin has brewed some coffee and provided breakfast! I know she was working on it as I left the house!’

  Sarah watched his tall figure stroll towards the lake again, the dog trotting eagerly at his heels. She did not believe him when he said that he had no interest in pursuing his search for Miss Meredith any further. There was a lump in her throat that felt like unshed tears and the hard outline of the locket scored her fingers. With a sigh, Sarah turned to ascend the steps to the terrace. She knew she was as bad as he, for she had lied, too. The sad fact was that she did not trust him, but now the deceit was becoming intolerable.

  When Sarah got back to the house she found not only coffee and fresh bread in the breakfast room, but what appeared to be a whole army of maids cleaning the dining-room under Amelia’s watchful eye.

  ‘I simply could not bear to eat another meal in such disgustingly dirty surroundings,’ her cousin greeted her. ‘I have high hopes that this afternoon we may start to tackle the bedchambers, for I fear there may be fleas and worse—’

  Here she broke off as the crashing of moving furniture became too loud to sustain a conversation. When matters quietened down again she added mischievously, ‘Lady Tilney and Lady Ann are in the morning-room should you wish to avoid them, my dear! They were both much put out to be disturbed by all the noise!’ Amelia gave a little giggle. ‘I fear Lady Tilney looks quite raddled in the daylight and Lady Ann is much the worse for too little sleep! I offered them my rose petal cream to rejuvenate their skin, but they declined!’

  Sarah tried not to laugh. ‘Amelia—’

  ‘Oh, I have only just begun,’ her cousin said, understanding perfectly Sarah’s unspoken question. Her eyes sparkled. ‘There is no end to the commotion I can cause when I try!’

  ‘And Greville? Have you seen him today?’

  Amelia’s smile became positively angelic. ‘Poor Greville! I believe he has a headache this morning! I have mixed him a concoction of raw eggs, tomato extract and liquorice!’

  ‘Oh, Amelia!’ Sarah started to laugh. ‘Almost I pity him! And how does Sir Ralph take this transformation of his house?’

  ‘Oh, Sir Ralph is most impressed!’ Amelia said blithely. ‘He told me I was a spirited little filly and that I had a free hand to do whatever I wished! So…’ She picked up a duster and started to wield it industriously.

  ‘Maybe he will not feel so happy when he discovers the keys to his wine cellar are lost,’ Sarah mused.

  ‘Maybe not,’ Amelia confirmed with a smile, ‘but by then it will be too late!’

  It was a day of irritating inactivity. Sir Ralph’s guests all declared themselves too exhausted by their early rising to even think of skating that afternoon, and they whiled away a few hours in the library with Sir Ralph’s prized collection of erotic French lithographs. When Sarah went down to the lake she discovered that the ice was too thin to risk going out and later it began to snow in earnest, huge flakes falling from a pewter sky, so she retired to her room with a book. She tried to ignore the ribald laughter and conversation that floated up the stairs.

  Guy had disappeared at some point in the afternoon and did not reappear until dinner and, despite her attempts to think on other matters, Sarah could not but wonder where he had gone. The rendezvous with Olivia weighed on her mind. It seemed a long time until midnight.

  Dinner was a meal quite unlike the previous night. It soon became apparent that Amelia had taught the cook some simple but nutritious recipes, for the first course was a delicious vegetable soup, followed by trout in a white wine sauce. The eyes of all the guests lit up as they took their first tentative mouthfuls, and even Mr Fisk woke up with the words, ‘Food! Excellent!’

  Mrs Fisk looked somewhat discontented by the fact that her spouse stayed awake for the entire meal, but this was nothing to the emotions of the others on finding that there was no wine. At first, when a large jug of ice-cold water had been brought in, no one had commented, but as the meal progressed and the famous Blanchland wines were not forthcoming, Lady Tilney could not contain herself.

  ‘Turned puritan, Ralph?’ she asked coyly, fluttering her lashes at him. ‘Or are you trying to reform us all?’

  Sir Ralph looked discomfited.

  ‘Lady Amelia—’ he began, to break off at once, clearly unable to criticise Amelia after she had magically produced such delicious food. Sarah, knowing that the responsibility for the absence of wine lay firmly at Amelia’s door, waited with amusement to see what would happen next.

  Her cousin had been conversing with Justin Lebeter and looked up at the expectant pause.

  ‘The wine? Oh, dear, I was hoping that you would not ask…’ She cast her eyes down modestly. ‘I fear the key was lost when we did our cleaning today. The maids swear that they have scoured the house for it, but it cannot be found…’

  There was an outcry, but it came mainly from the ladies.

  ‘No wine? How dreadful! How shall we survive! Sir Ralph, pray do something!’

  Guy caught Sarah’s eye with a quizzical lift to his eyebrows, but she kept her expression to one of limpid innocence. She was not going to give Amelia away.

  ‘Surely there is wine in this exquisite sauce?’ Greville Baynham said, his gaze challenging Amelia’s across the table.

  Amelia sighed. ‘Oh, yes, but that was the last of yesterday’s bottles. And I do feel that too much wine can dull the palate. Do you not agree, Lord Lebeter?’

  Justin Lebeter looked as though he was about to agree with anything Amelia would care to say. Lady Tilney gave a snort of disapproval.

  ‘I am happy for my palate to suffer in a good cause!’

  ‘Indeed!’ Amelia said sweetly. ‘I suspected that your taste was already jaded, Lady Tilney!’

  Sarah thought she heard Greville smother a laugh.

  ‘You promised me a bath in the vintage champagne, Ralphie,’ Mrs Fisk grumbled petulantly from further down the table. ‘You said it was one of the specialities!’

  ‘Damned waste!’ her husband grunted. Mrs Fisk glared malevolently.

  ‘Did you know anything about this, Miss Sheridan?’ Lord Allardyce asked with a sly smile. ‘You are deep in your cousin’s confidence, after all!’

  Sarah returned the smile very pleasantly. ‘I knew the keys were lost, of course,’ she admitted, ‘but then I realised that there was this refreshing spring water to replace it! Have you tried it, Lord Allardyce? It comes from the spring in the grotto and is so very bracing!’

  Allardyce wrinkled up his nose with distaste. ‘I thank you, but no, Miss Sheridan! Water is for the peasants!’
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br />   ‘You will become quite thirsty, then!’ Sarah said, applying herself to her food.

  There was an ill-tempered silence for a while.

  ‘You must send to Bath for more wine tomorrow, Ralph!’ Lady Tilney said stridently. ‘This is really not to be borne!’

  ‘The roads are so bad that I imagine it will take several days for the wine merchant to reach us,’ Amelia said, smiling brightly.

  ‘Perhaps Lord Renshaw will take pity on you and send to Woodallan for supplies!’ Sarah put in, with a quick sideways look at his lordship. ‘For myself, I could drink the spring water for days!’

  ‘I cannot imagine that it could be good for us!’ Lady Ann Walter shuddered. ‘There may be so many noxious substances that have drained into it! Why, it could be quite poisonous!’

  ‘But perhaps quite improving for the skin, Lady Ann,’ Amelia suggested blandly.

  Her ladyship flushed angrily.

  Something seemed to have happened to the spirit of the house party, Sarah thought, as they all turned back to their food again and the silence became prolonged. It could not simply be the wine, but there was an atmosphere of near gloom in the dining-room. Amelia, eating heartily, seemed quite unaware of it. Even Lord Allardyce, so suggestive the previous evening, confined his conversation to platitudes about the weather. Once the meal was ended, no one lingered at the table and, as there was no port to circulate, the ladies and gentlemen all retired for a game of whist. It was, Sarah thought, one of the few vices still left to them.

  At fifteen minutes to midnight that night, Sarah donned her cloak and boots and slipped out of her room. Since dinner, she had watched the clock and found herself unable to settle to doing anything to pass the time.

  There was a light still showing under the drawing-room door as Sarah crept across the hall, and she tried to open the front door as silently as possible. The snow had stopped and the sky was clear with a bright white moon. It was an eerie but beautiful scene. Sarah hesitated. Her footsteps would be all too clear in the snow, visible to anyone who chose to look. She could only hope that no one would be abroad that night and that more snow would fall before morning.

  She set off at a brisk pace, keeping in the moon shadows and taking as much cover as she could from the trees. The night was very quiet, though every so often some snow would tumble from the branches, making Sarah jump. Despite telling Guy earlier that nothing at Blanchland frightened her, she was distinctly nervous and wishing that Olivia had suggested a meeting in a nice warm parlour instead of a lonely tower. It seemed most sensible to keep the meeting as brief as possible, and suggest another appointment in the daylight—unless Olivia’s situation was so extreme that she needed help at once. Sarah paused to consider the possibility. She had no idea what she would find at the Folly Tower and felt woefully unprepared.

  She had just crossed a clearing deep in snow when a scuffling sound behind her made Sarah freeze and spin around. She could see no one lurking under the trees, but some sixth sense told her that she was not alone, and, whilst she hesitated over whether or not to call out, a dark figure detached itself from the shadows and hurried forward. Sarah’s instinctive squeak of alarm died unheard and she let out her breath on an angry sigh.

  ‘Amelia! What the—what on earth are you doing here?’

  ‘I heard you leave the house and I followed you,’ her cousin said, somewhat out of breath. ‘What are you doing here, Sarah?’

  ‘Never mind what I am doing!’ Sarah gave Amelia’s arm a shake. ‘How could you be so foolish, Milly? Why, you could have got lost, or fallen into danger—’

  ‘All the more reason why you should not be wandering around on your own, then!’ her cousin replied with spirit. ‘Where are you going, Sarah?’

  ‘I am going to the Folly to meet Miss Meredith,’ Sarah said crossly. In the distance she heard the faint chimes of the Blanchland church clock. ‘There’s no time to explain now, for I am late as it is! I suppose you had better come with me!’

  ‘Who is Miss Meredith?’ Amelia enquired, trotting along behind Sarah through the wood. ‘And why are you arranging a meeting in the middle of the night?’

  Sarah smiled despite herself. She was amazed at how much better she felt to have some company. ‘Miss Meredith is my niece and the reason I came to Blanchland. As to why—’

  ‘Your niece!’ Sarah marvelled at Amelia’s instinct for gossip even under such circumstances. ‘You mean that she is Frank’s daughter? But Frank never had a child—’

  ‘This is no time for a rehearsal of the Sheridan genealogy,’ Sarah hissed back. She almost stumbled over a tree root and put out a hand to steady herself. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous! I wish the wretched girl did not have such a sense of the dramatic!’

  They were reaching the crown of the hill and came out of the trees to see the dark bulk of the tower looming before them. Amelia clutched at Sarah’s cloak.

  ‘Sarah, are you sure about this? Why can you not meet up in daylight? I do not like this!’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Sarah knew that one of them had to be bracing or they would both run away in a fit of panic. ‘We are going to meet a seventeen-year-old girl, not a monster! Pray go back if you do not wish to stay with me!’

  Amelia shuddered. ‘I will not walk on my own through the wood! Where is the girl, then? There is nobody here!’

  Sarah pushed open the tower door and peered into the interior. It was pitch-black. The Folly Tower had been built by her great-grandfather and on a fine day one could see three counties and the sea from the top, but tonight Sarah could not even see in front of her nose.

  ‘Olivia?’ It came out as half-whisper, half-croak. Sarah cleared her throat and drew breath to call again. The words were never spoken. Something soft and smothering pressed down over her head and she was grasped in an iron grip. Beside her, she heard Amelia start to scream and then someone dropped her hard on the stone floor of the tower and all hell seemed to break out around her.

  The confusion resolved itself so quickly that Sarah could almost have imagined it. Within seconds, Amelia’s screams had died away and the suffocating cloth was removed from Sarah’s face. She struggled to sit up and found herself cradled in gentle arms that held her firmly but surely. A lantern had been placed on the stone floor and cast a small pool of light about them. Sir Greville Baynham was standing behind the lantern and Amelia was kneeling and peering into Sarah’s face with so fearful an expression that her cousin almost burst out laughing.

  ‘Oh, Sarah, are you much hurt? He dropped you with such a jolt I was sure you had broken some bones!’

  Sarah moved a little gingerly and the restraining arms that held her loosened their grip very slightly. She did not need to turn her head to know that it was Guy who held her; the feel of his arms was familiar and the warmth of his body against hers was reassuring, but she had to break the contact.

  ‘I am very well,’ she said a little shakily, gratefully accepting Greville’s help to ease her to her feet, ‘but whatever happened? Someone attacked me—I was certain they were about to carry me off!’

  ‘Most probably they would have done had we not arrived in time!’ Guy said drily. He was still holding her with a steadying hand under her elbow. Both he and Greville were dressed in dark cloaks and the snow was falling off their boots onto the floor. ‘Somebody ran out of the tower as Lady Amelia started to scream, but they were lost in the darkness before we could see them. We did not pursue them, for our first thoughts were for the two of you. It is fortunate that we arrived when we did.’

  Sarah thought it fortunate, perhaps, but also deeply suspicious. How had Guy and Greville come to be wandering about the wood at precisely the time she had arranged to meet Olivia? And where was Olivia now? Someone in addition to herself had obviously known of the rendezvous. It would be better to keep very quiet on the subject of her own activities. Aware that some difficult questions were about to be asked, Sarah avoided Guy’s too-perceptive gaze and made a business of brushing the dirt from her
cloak.

  ‘Well, I am grateful to you both,’ she said guardedly. ‘Some poacher taken by surprise, I expect! There is no harm done!’

  ‘The point in question is how the devil did you come to be taking a walk at this time of night, Miss Sheridan?’ Guy said forcefully. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’

  Sarah glared at him. She only just managed to swallow the retort that sprang to her lips, aware that he could provoke her into a response all too easily and that she might give something away.

  ‘Perhaps Lady Amelia would care to answer that question,’ Greville said smoothly, stepping forward into the light. ‘I have noticed that where your cousin leads, you are not far behind, ma’am! Or is it the other way about?’

  Sarah and Amelia exchanged a quick glance. Amelia gave a careless little shrug.

  ‘Why, it is no great matter, Sir Greville! Sarah could not sleep and, as I had not yet retired, we decided to take a short walk. The snow looks very pretty in the moonlight!’

  ‘Not from inside a darkened tower!’ Greville said grimly. ‘Next you will be telling me that you thought to climb to the top to look at the view! What nonsense is this?’

  Amelia’s lips were set in a mutinous line. She picked up the lantern. ‘Let us not stand about here in the cold! Poor Sarah will be wanting her bed!’

  ‘At the least, it will have cured her insomnia,’ Guy said, with an ironic lift to his eyebrows. ‘A persistent affliction, Miss Sheridan! Can you improve on Lady Amelia’s version, ma’am? It lacks something in originality!’

  Sarah did not meet his eyes. ‘It is as Amelia says, my lord. We thought it would be pleasant to take the air!’

  ‘Cut line, Miss Sheridan,’ Guy countered derisively, ‘and spare us the tales of moonlit views, fresh night air and the like! I never heard so thin a tale!’

  Sarah looked at both of them. Guy was planted foursquare before her, his expression unyielding. Greville was beside the door, giving the impression that they were unlikely to be allowed out until they came up with the truth. The flickering lantern cast huge shadows up into the vaulted roof and gave the whole scene an appearance of unreality. Sarah gave Guy a challenging glance.