Blanchland Secret

by Nicola Cornick

  ‘It seemed the only explanation.’ Sarah hesitated. ‘Unless I have read it wrongly—’

  ‘You have not. Were you shocked?’

  Sarah met his gaze very candidly. ‘How could I be, after what almost happened just now? I have learned a lot…I cannot judge or blame. Only…I am surprised at Frank. He was a scoundrel, but he would not have abandoned an innocent girl…’

  Guy sighed heavily. He leant forward, resting his chin on his hand. ‘He did not know. Catherine never told anyone until it was too late and your brother abroad. She died in childbirth and my father was so racked with anger and grief that he refused to have anything to do with the child, leaving it all to your family to dispose.’

  ‘Poor little girl,’ Sarah said softly, ‘and poor Catherine. She can have been no more than sixteen.’

  ‘Yes, the whole thing has been the most appalling tragedy. My father—’ Guy stopped, his face sombre. ‘He cannot bear for Catherine’s disgrace to be known, Sarah. That is the reason he asked me to find Olivia first, and to tell no one, not even you, that I sought her. I am sorry.’ He ran his hand through his hair, further disordering the already dishevelled locks. ‘It must appear that I did not trust you, but it was only that I had given him my word…’

  Sarah was frowning. ‘But I do not understand, Guy. Supposing you had found Olivia first—what were you to do? What did your father ask of you?’

  For a moment, she thought that Guy was not going to answer her. He got up and threw another log onto the fire. The shower of sparks that shot upwards illuminated his grim expression.

  ‘He asked me to pay Miss Meredith off. His plan was to make it worth her while to disappear. You were never to know.’

  Sarah was shocked into silence for a moment. She stared at Guy’s averted face whilst anger and outrage warred within her.

  ‘I suppose he is ashamed of Olivia’s existence—’ she began, in a voice that shook.

  Guy looked at her. There was grief and pity in his face. ‘My father wished to protect Catherine’s memory. He acted from the best of motives. You must remember that Miss Meredith is nothing to him, whilst his daughter’s honour and reputation is everything—he could not bear for her memory to be disgraced. I told him that I thought him misguided, but he is a proud old man…’

  Sarah was struggling with her feelings. ‘Olivia is my niece, too! He had no concern for my opinion! Why, I thought that he had asked you to accompany me to Blanchland to give me support and protection, not to undermine and deceive!’

  She jumped to her feet, unable to sit calmly discussing so great a betrayal. ‘I cannot believe that, all the time, you were planning to trick me! And then to have the audacity to accuse me of being sparing with the truth—’

  Guy came swiftly to her side. He caught her hands in his. ‘Sarah, listen to me!’ His tone was forceful. ‘I had no intention of falling in with my father’s plan—’

  ‘Olivia would never have agreed to it!’ Sarah said wildly, bursting into tears. ‘She has the integrity that other members of her family seem to lack!’

  ‘I am sure you are right.’ Guy had gathered her into his arms and was stroking her hair gently. ‘It was an ill-conceived plan! We will go to my father and find another solution, I promise you!’

  He said no more as Sarah wept uncontrollably into his jacket. After a little while, as her sobs abated, he drew her down to sit next to him on the bed.

  ‘Oh, why can I not stop crying?’ Sarah wailed. ‘This is of all things the most intolerable! I am truly sick of it!’

  Guy pressed a kiss against her hair. ‘It is scarce surprising. You have had a shock, one way and another. Sarah, I wish to say that I am sorry for the things I said earlier. I knew you were concealing matters from me and it made me angry that you did not trust me. Fine words, I know, from one who has just confessed to the same fault! May we start afresh, sweetheart?’

  He got no further, for there was a sudden loud shout from the bottom of the stairs. They looked at one another. Even this, it seemed, had failed to rouse the household, for no one stirred.

  ‘I must go and see what is the matter,’ Guy said reluctantly, retrieving the keys and unlocking the door. ‘There may be some emergency.’

  Sarah followed him out onto the darkened landing and down the stairs. Tom Brookes was standing in the entrance hall, his strained face breaking into relief as he saw Guy.

  ‘My lord! Thank God it’s you! There has been a messenger from Woodallan. Your father—’

  Sarah clutched Guy’s arm. ‘Oh, no, Tom! Is it—he is not…?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ the gardener said reassuringly, ‘but I believe he is taken quite poorly.’ He turned to Guy. ‘He asks that you return at once, sir. I’ve your horse already saddled—’

  ‘Thank you.’ Guy pressed Sarah’s hand, where it still rested on his arm. ‘I must go, Sarah. Listen, this is what you must do. Pack your bags, and I shall either return or send a message later. Do not do anything until you hear from me, but keep safe and tend to your cousin.’ He kissed her briefly. ‘Tom—’ the gardener was waiting patiently ‘—pray keep Miss Sheridan—and Miss Meredith—safe until I return.’

  ‘Olivia!’ Sarah said suddenly. ‘I never told you—’

  ‘It will have to wait.’ Guy kissed her again and ran for the door. Sarah stood on the steps beside Tom Brookes and watched as he rode off into the snow. She felt miserable and bereft, worried about the Earl’s illness and wanting to be with his son. But deeper than that, some instinct told her that something was very wrong, and she was afraid.

  ‘The most dreadful aspect,’ Amelia said later, plucking at her bedcovers, ‘is that I cannot remember a single moment of the whole experience! To be ravished by Greville, and yet to forget it all—it is most extraordinary.’

  A delicate shade of colour came into her face. ‘I knew at once this morning, of course. Forgive me, Sarah, for speaking to you of such things! I am just so very grateful that you are unharmed…’

  ‘Oh, do not worry about me!’ Sarah placed a comforting hand on her cousin’s arm. She had managed to reassure Amelia of her own safety very successfully, mainly because her cousin was still so wrapped up in what had happened. ‘Milly, what will happen?’

  ‘Oh, do not fear,’ Amelia said hastily, breaking into a radiant smile. ‘It is no doubt very improper of me to say so, but all will be well. Greville and I have talked…’ her colour deepened ‘…and we are to marry as soon as he may procure a special licence! I have been so foolish, Sarah, for I love him very much, and…’ Her voice faded away and she lay back on the pillows, closing her eyes. Sarah realised that the effects of the drug must have been very strong indeed and blessed once again the chance that had led her to eat only a few spoonfuls.

  Outside the window the snow was falling from a leaden sky. Sarah thought of her plans for them all to remove to Woodallan, and felt a pang of concern. The weather was poor and it now seemed that Amelia would not be fit to travel. She had not heard a word from Tom, whom she had sent to relay a message to Olivia. With all her heart, Sarah wished that Guy had not had to leave them.

  ‘Apparently all Sir Ralph’s guests have awoken with the wrong person,’ Amelia said dolefully. ‘I changed all the rooms about when I was arranging the cleaning—I thought it might be amusing! And now look what has happened!’

  ‘The important thing to remember,’ Sarah said staunchly, ‘is that you and I woke up with the right person. Sir Ralph and his guests can take care of themselves!’ She paused to consider how extraordinary it was that she could be speaking so openly on such delicate topics, but a short space of time had wrought a great change. She sought to inject a lighter note. ‘Mr and Mrs Fisk are very happy, at any rate! Apparently they awoke to find themselves together and are so taken by their rapprochement that they plan a second honeymoon!’

  The cousins caught each other’s eye and started to laugh. ‘Oh, dear,’ Amelia said, between giggles, ‘this is dreadful! At least I have been married and c
ould be expected not to be too missish, but you, Sarah! I was supposed to be looking after you!’

  ‘Lord Renshaw did that very successfully, I thank you! He was the perfect gentleman!’

  Amelia gave her cousin a speaking glance and they both collapsed into fresh laughter. ‘I can well imagine!’ Amelia said. ‘Or rather, I cannot imagine it at all!’

  Sarah stood up abruptly and went to the window, watching the dizzy swirl of snowflakes falling.

  ‘Alan was never faithful to me, you know,’ Amelia said quietly after a moment, clearly following some train of thought of her own. ‘Oh, he was handsome and charming and such fun to be with, but he did not see the need to confine his attentions to one woman—especially the one he had married! It hurt me so deeply I could not bear to think on it! Which is why—when Greville first asked me to marry him…’

  Sarah turned back to look at her. She had never seen Amelia’s pretty face so creased with distress.

  ‘I thought that you refused Greville because you claimed to find him dull…’

  ‘I know. I appeared not to value his excellent qualities, but in fact I was just afraid, I suppose. Now I shall have to trust him.’

  ‘And you could not commit yourself to a better man,’ Sarah said warmly, coming back to the bedside. ‘Greville loves you and has done so for a long time now.’

  ‘I know,’ Amelia said, a contented smile curving her lips. ‘I am indeed truly fortunate! Oh, if only I could remember—’

  ‘Yes—’ Sarah gave her a naughty smile ‘—I can see that it must be very annoying for you. But never mind, you will have plenty of opportunity to find out!’

  ‘Sarah!’ Amelia’s eyes flew wide open. ‘Blanchland has wrought quite a change in you, and not one that is at all proper!’

  ‘I know.’ Sarah continued to smile. Her eye fell on yet another painting of cavorting nymphs. ‘I suspect it is the influence of these dreadful pictures!’

  ‘It is to be hoped that Guy will make a respectable woman of you, Sarah,’ Amelia murmured. A slight frown touched her brow. ‘You will marry him, won’t you?’

  Sarah turned her face away. ‘Of course I will—now. Even I can see that some sort of conventionality must be observed after all that has happened!’

  ‘Not because of that!’ Amelia’s hand pressed hers urgently. ‘Because you love him! I know it, Sarah! Oh, if only I were not so tired I would soon make you admit it!’

  Amelia slept for most of the day and Sarah stayed beside her. Greville Baynham, recovering from the effects of the drug more rapidly than his fiancée, had checked that Sarah was prepared to be left alone to await Guy’s return, then had ridden off at once to purchase a special licence. Sarah suspected that part of his alacrity was to reassure Amelia, but thought that this at least was unnecessary. At last her cousin seemed utterly content and certain of Greville’s love.

  Sarah felt even more lonely without Greville’s comforting presence, but consoled herself with the thought that Guy had said he would return shortly. In the meantime, there was still Justin Lebeter to protect them. The young peer, who had rushed from the dining-room the previous night, had apparently locked himself in his chamber and thrown away the key whilst the aphrodisiac took effect, not wishing to compromise his love for Olivia. When he had regained consciousness that morning he had had to beat on the door until Sarah, with the help of Tom Brookes, had let him out.

  The Fisks had departed in a honeymoon glow early in the day, and Sarah had no wish to see either Sir Ralph or the remainder of his guests. She sat at Amelia’s bedside, fretting over the difficulties of returning to Woodallan with the Earl very likely on his deathbed and his unwanted granddaughter in their party. Feeling restless, Sarah paced across to the window and sat for a time watching the snow, but its hypnotic swirling gave her no peace.

  It was late afternoon and growing dark when Sarah left her cousin sleeping soundly and went downstairs for a breath of fresh air. She watched the daylight fade over the gardens and reflected that Guy would probably not be returning that night after all. Sarah let herself back into the house via the conservatory. The snow falling on the glass overhead made a brushing sound, soothing and soft. It was strangely light and the scent of fruit and summer flowers contrasted oddly with drifts of snow outside. Sarah walked through both hothouses, then sat for a while beside the pond, wondering why her troubled mind would give her no rest. Whatever problems she was facing would surely be resolved once Guy was back by her side. Even so, she felt alone and uneasy. Suddenly the Gothic horrors she had dismissed previously did not seem so foolish after all.

  Chapter Ten

  Sir Ralph was lurking in the entrance hall when Sarah went back in from the conservatory. He looked nervous and distressed, and cast her the sort of wary glance one reserved for a dangerous animal.

  ‘Cousin! Are you well?’ He peered into her face, clearly trying to discern any signs of ravage.

  ‘I am very well, thank you,’ Sarah snapped, ‘but infinitely regretting the quest that brought me back to my home! I wish I had never set foot here!’

  ‘It was Marvell’s fault,’ Sir Ralph said pitifully, wringing his hands. ‘Marvell and Edward Allardyce! I have turned the man off, and Allardyce is to leave at first light! It was never my intention that you should suffer, Sarah! There will be no more revels now, or ever! Oh, this is a tragedy!’

  He wandered off, still mourning. Sarah watched him go, half-exasperated, half-pitying. Sir Ralph had never been accepted by the ton, who had considered him beneath their notice even before he had established his repellent revels. Now, it seemed that even the purpose he had found for himself was ruined.

  Sarah went slowly upstairs to check that Amelia was feeling better, then moved softly to close all the curtains and shut out the night. The house was very quiet and of Justin Lebeter there was no sign. Sarah shivered a little, resolving to lock herself in with Amelia until Guy returned.

  The snow was still falling, but gently now. Sarah was about to pull the long landing curtains, when she saw torches flaring through the trees as they illuminated the way to the grotto.

  So Sir Ralph had decided to hold his solstice revels after all, and only a half-hour after he had told her otherwise! Sarah frowned crossly. Perhaps it was too much to expect a leopard to change its spots, but she was surprised that Ralph’s guests had any energy left to join in. She closed the curtains with an angry swish.

  The door from the servants’ quarters opened with something of a crash.

  ‘Miss Sarah!’ It was Tom Brookes who was staggering into the hall and even in the dim light, Sarah could see the livid bruise to his temple. She hurried down the stair and grasped his arm as he almost lost his balance.

  ‘Tom! What on earth—?’

  ‘Hit on the head,’ Tom was saying, and Sarah could hear his disgust even through the chatter of his teeth, ‘lying in the snow I dunno how long, and Miss Olivia gone—’

  ‘Olivia?’ Sudden fear sharpened Sarah’s tone, but when Tom looked at her blankly, she guided him over to the stairs and helped him to sit down. ‘There, Tom. You stay there and I’ll call one of the maids to bathe your head. Steady…Now, you say that Olivia has gone—’

  She broke off as Mrs Brookes came dashing through the door with what looked like half a dozen maids in tow, their faces registering everything from fright to excitement.

  ‘Oh, Miss Sarah! There he is! As soon as he heard Miss Meredith had gone, what did he do but go rushing off to find you! I couldn’t stop him! I said there was no difficulty because it was you as sent the message and…’ She ran out of breath and stopped as she saw the look on Sarah’s face. ‘Lordy me, never tell me it wasn’t you as sent the message to Miss Olivia—’

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ Sarah said.

  Amelia was emerging from her room now, evidently curious about the uproar, and Justin Lebeter appeared from the direction of the games room. It was clear that Amelia was feeling better for it took her only a moment to take charge.


  ‘Susan, please fetch a bowl of warm water and some bandages. Lord Lebeter, could you help Tom upstairs? He needs to lie down and have absolute quiet. Keep back everyone! Give him some air!’

  ‘My!’ Mrs Brookes said, impressed, as Tom allowed Lebeter to haul him to his feet and support him slowly up the stairs. ‘That cousin of yours, Miss Sarah! Proper cowed, my Tom is! I’ve never seen anything like it!’ She looked more sharply as she saw Sarah pulling outdoor boots and a cloak from the cupboard.

  ‘Where are you going, Miss Sarah? On a night like this with the snow…’ she wrinkled up her nose ‘…and those pagan revels! Wait ’til Lord Lebeter is done, then he can go looking for Miss Olivia—’

  ‘I fear there isn’t time for that, Mrs Brookes,’ Sarah was pulling on her boots as she spoke. ‘At what time did the message come for Olivia?’

  ‘We found it near on an hour ago.’ Mrs Brookes was starting to look worried. ‘There was a note pushed under the door. I assumed…Miss Olivia said that it was from you—that you wanted to meet. Oh, lordy!’

  ‘Never mind,’ Sarah said, feeling as though she was within an inch of throwing up her hands in despair herself. ‘You had best get upstairs and make sure that Lady Amelia is not terrifying your Tom!’ She paused. ‘I don’t suppose you know where Olivia was going for our assignation?’

  ‘No.’ Mrs Brookes bit her lip. ‘I tried to persuade her against it—told her it was a dirty night to be out, but she said she was not going far! Oh, Miss—’

  ‘Pray explain to Lady Amelia and Lord Lebeter when you may,’ Sarah said rapidly, her hand on the door, ‘and do not worry. All will be well!’

  ‘Her poor mother—’ Mrs Brookes began, but Sarah stayed to hear no more. Pulling the door wide, she slipped out into the snow.

  The sky was clear and the moon rode high on ragged clouds. From the depths of the wood came the sound of chanting, most unearthly in the black-and-white landscape. Sarah shivered and furiously told herself to stay calm—it could only be Sir Ralph’s foolish antics. She had once thought that they could harm no one, but after the previous night she was not so sure. Sarah remembered that, some sixty years previously, Sir Francis Dashwood had supposedly founded a club based on devil worship, where members dressed as monks and nuns and held licentious orgies. No doubt Sir Ralph modelled himself on that example. She took a deep breath. She knew she could not allow herself to become frightened.