Ravenstone (Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles)

by Louise Franklin

  “Do you not wish to retire, Elton?”

  “No, madam,” he said simply, but would say nothing more.

  What was she to do? She needed a butler who could perform his duties but she also knew that with servants who had worked their entire lives for one family, retirement was not always a time to which they looked forward. Elton was such, it would seem. She wished suddenly that she had spoken to Dixon on the matter first, but it was too late for that now.

  “So be it then, Elton,” she said. “If you so wish it, you may remain.” He looked at her directly then, a small smile at the corner of his mouth.

  “However, I have two conditions.”

  The smile disappeared.

  “You are to take rest each afternoon, no shorter than three hours, and when the house is full of guests, Dixon will help you with your duties.”

  “Thank you, madam,” he said and stood to leave.

  “Your lie-down may start today,” she said and he changed direction, shuffling along to his quarters.

  Harriet smiled while Cook frowned at her and said, “I could do with a lie-down meself,” she grumbled.

  “You already nap every day,” Georgiana said. Cook looked startled but then quickly returned to her work of peeling potatoes.

  Georgiana sighed, exhausted, and putting her head in her hands, she studied the kitchen’s bounty. From the ceiling, hung hams and sausages next to dried spices from the garden. The great open range was heated by coal and fitted with a tank with taps for hot water. At one end of the kitchen was the scullery with two double sinks where the dishes were washed every night. At the other end of the room, was the butchery with the hanging carcasses of a rabbit and pheasants.

  The cutting tables on the right wall stood next to a large scale on a table. Along the wall on her left were shelves on which pans, molds and plates as well as wooden serving dishes were neatly stacked. The dresser in the corner housed the china for serving food. Another shelf with a table stored the spices and the coffee and tea. In the center was the great table, around which the servants sat and ate their meals. She had always loved the kitchen with all its delicious smells and vowed to spend more time in it.

  ***

  The days passed quickly with the duties of the estate demanding her time. She could not fire Mr. Madden, and so she spent many hours on horseback meeting her tenants and seeing to the business he chose to neglect. She inspected the spring barley crop and watched the shepherd tend an ailing sheep. She spoke to him at length, asking him questions until she could think of no more.

  She hired more workers with Mr. Campbell’s help and he accompanied her on her rounds. She had the fallow fields planted with turnips for the animals to eat in winter. After visiting the cottagers and listening to their concerns of leaking roofs and drafty, crumbling ancient walls, she decided action was required. On her rounds, she learned that the only task Mr. Madden performed well was the collecting of rents, and turning out tenants who could not pay.

  When she confronted Mr. Madden as to the whereabouts of said rents, he merely shrugged his shoulders and replied that all moneys were spent on the wages of the servants at Ravenstone. She didn’t dispute the fact, knowing it for a lie, but asked again for the accounts, which he promised again to deliver before leaving with a tip of his hat. Should she confront him with thieving, she would be forced to dismiss him. But having been given strict instruction from Edward not to do so, confronting Madden and then failing to dismiss him would make her look foolish or weak. Perhaps even both. She sighed and decided to concentrate on the situations within her control.

  Peter, Harry, and Eye received riding lessons every morning, and afterward, they were required to attend the schoolroom with James and Rupert. Part of their duties, she informed them, was to learn to read and write. The new governess did not argue with her on the matter, even though Georgiana could sense from the thinly drawn line of the teacher’s mouth that she was not happy with the arrangement. To the woman’s credit, she had not quit despite Rupert’s best efforts.

  Georgiana spent what free time she had left in the garden with a bow and arrow practicing her archery. She taught the older boys the sport, and on Sundays, she would hold a competition with the winning prize of sweetmeats. Peter and Harry soon became decent shots but it was Eye who won the prize for three weeks in a row. Rupert and James sat on the sidelines with their wooden swords, watching the spectacle, while Sarah napped in her basket next to Georgiana.

  In return, the boys decided to teach her how to throw a decent knife. She was soon able to beat them all, much to their surprise. When it was obvious they had mastered these skills to the point of boredom, she hired a fencing instructor to teach them how to use a sword properly. James and Rupert paid particular attention to their lessons.

  Rupert still scowled at her most of the time, just as his ancestors did from their portraits. Still he had blessed her with a smile once, when she had managed to hit an unusually difficult target with her knife. She even managed to get him to sit at her feet, leaning his head against her when she read to the boys at night before bedtime.

  The kitchen had been a place that had always seemed warmer and friendlier to her than the rest of the grand houses she had known. As a child she had preferred to sit downstairs surrounded by the hustle and bustle of the servants, the smells of roasting meat turning on the spit, and friendly cheer of a world far removed from her own.

  Soon after their arrival, she had taken to sitting by the fire and reading aloud to the boys in the kitchen after dinner. At first, the servants were shocked by her presence in what they considered their own personal realm, but they soon became more comfortable and began talking freely in her presence while she played with Sarah.

  Now sitting quietly beside the fireplace in the evenings with Sarah in her lap and the boys around her, she felt as if she had come home. All that was missing were Jane and Margaret. Nothing was ever going to fill the emptiness she felt in their absence.

  From the servants she heard about Harriet’s sister in London, who worked for a family whose young son took great liberties with the female staff. To complain was to lose her job, so Harriet’s sister spent her days avoiding the young man and making certain that she was never caught alone with him.

  Elizabeth’s father was forcibly removed from land the family had farmed for generations, but he could not prove a claim to it with paper. Georgiana had read about the new enclosure acts, permitting smaller tenants farmers to be removed from land to make room for bigger, more commercial farms. She sat silently listening as Elizabeth told of her family’s new life in town. Her father had moved the family to work in a mill for wages. The rent in town was expensive and so Elizabeth sent her wages to help her family. There were still six younger sisters and brothers at home to feed.

  Cook always left after dinner to find her own room. The governess, Miss Blackwell, preferred to eat in her rooms rather than join them in the kitchen. Thus, it was a lively and friendly group that gathered as the last dishes were cleaned and put away.

  The housekeeper, Mrs. Bristow, would read a verse from the Bible and everyone would listen with respect. Then she retrieved her household accounts and sat at the table with Georgiana going over the day’s expenses and the menus to come. She was a competent housekeeper, well able to do the accounts, which was probably why Mr. Madden preferred her not to do them.

  After Georgiana finished reading to the boys, the younger ones were carried off to bed fast asleep while Harry collected his sister from her basket. Once Dixon carried her upstairs, and after Harriet closed her bedroom door, Georgiana’s thoughts would turn to Jane and Margaret again. It soon became a well-established routine.

  ***

  Georgiana pulled her long black cloak closer as the wind blew stronger than it had the previous day. She looked out to sea at a frigate on the horizon, its sails straining under the blow. Bella stood perfectly still on the cliff top, her proud head angled to the left as she watched the ship, her ears up. />
  Georgiana gazed at the flight of a seagull, and pulled the reins gently as the mare turned, excited by some new sound. She turned to see what had caught her attention and stiffened at the sight of two riders on their way to join her. She had not met any of her neighbors and had hoped to keep it that way.

  “Hello,” a pretty young woman called out as she reined in her galloping horse. “I had not thought to find anyone riding out here.”

  “Yes, it’s rather unexpected,” Georgiana replied.

  “I’m Lydia Jones,” she said breathlessly. “And this is my brother Robert coming now.”

  They watched as Robert arrived reluctantly, his horse moving sluggishly in his sister’s wake.

  “I’m Georgiana Fairchild,” she said.

  “From Ravenstone,” Lydia cried, surprised. “But I thought —” She stopped herself and turned to her brother, mortified and at a loss as how to continue.

  “Lady Fairchild,” Robert said, and gave her a small nod from under his hat. “I think what my sister is trying to say is that we believed you to be indisposed.”

  Robert Jones was a man of fashion with a slightly fleshy form. His gaze had settled on her face and form in a familiar way.

  “You are correct. I am, as you say, indisposed,” she replied and caused more confused looks.

  “You seem quite fit from here, Lady Fairchild,” Mr. Jones smiled.

  “Indeed,” Lydia smiled. “I must confess I had glimpsed you before on several occasions riding across the fields, but was unable to catch you before you disappeared. One was almost to think you rode on purpose with such haste because you seek to avoid company.”

  “Then you are mistaken in my intent,” Georgiana lied. “My mare is swift, I confess, and in need of exercise. I regret not having noticed your approach before this day, but as you see here I am in your company.”

  “Then you must be well to get about so, and to be in company as you say?” Lydia asked, eyeing her legs. “We had come to believe otherwise.”

  “As I have said, I am indisposed. I cannot walk.”

  “How extraordinary,” Mr. Jones replied, wrinkling his nose as if he had smelled something bad.

  “Indeed,” Lydia said. “How brave you are to ride, then.”

  “Foolish, perhaps,” Robert said.

  “We are at home at Adley Hall,” Lydia said excited. “We must have you visit.”

  “I cannot impose,” Georgiana said.

  “It is no imposition, I assure you,” Lydia said smiling. “Oh, please say you will come! You cannot mean to leave our company again, now that we have found you in it.”

  “I shall try.”

  “Robert, do tell her she must come.”

  “If she is not so inclined, we should not push the matter on her. Good day to you, Lady Fairchild,” he said, and touching the brim of his hat, turned his horse. “I believe we have taken up enough of your time. Come, Lydia.”

  Bewildered by her brother’s sudden departure, Lydia followed him, giving Georgiana one last wave. She watched them riding south for a minute then urged Bella in the direction of Ravenstone. No doubt, Robert Jones did not wish to be made uncomfortable by a cripple. It was this attitude she counted on, and she smiled to herself, thankful not to have to spend long afternoons in his company.

  Still it would not be long before unwanted visitors would drop by, bursting with curiosity after Lydia’s description of the afternoon’s chance encounter. Georgiana would make herself unavailable, she decided, and give the staff strict instructions to be on the lookout for visitors and to warn her. It was in the afternoons she would need to be especially vigilant. She decided she would use that time to go out and ride.

  She headed toward the western section of the property to check on the building of the new cottages. She had decided to build new shelters instead of repairing the existing ones. The old cottages were not fit for a mouse to inhabit, and she didn’t want to waste money repairing them.

  She urged Bella on with greater speed, taking to the woods and the dark, winding paths within it. The trees flew by dangerously close, but she didn’t slow, enjoying the challenge. The path split into a fork and she pulled on the reins. Bella slowed, but pulled at the bit, throwing her head up and rearing. Wanting to continue the gallop, she danced sideways and Georgiana talked to her softly, calming her.

  The two paths were unfamiliar and Georgiana paused, trying to remember which way to go. She usually stuck to the roads that covered the estate and had only taken a path through the woods a few times. She didn’t remember a path that split. She hesitated a moment, looking back the way she had come, then took the left fork.

  Given her freedom, Bella took to her easy gallop again, and they followed the path uphill until it suddenly opened up into a clearing. Bella stopped without being asked, and stood in front of the ruins of an ancient castle, its blackened walls crumbling down the hill, with only one tower and the north walls still standing. Stairs led up to a partial second floor and there was a wooden door that led into the tower.

  A raven sat on top of the tower watching her. Bella put her head down to graze on the long green grass. Edward had mentioned the existence of the ruins of the original Ravenstone castle. In its day, the fortress commanded a wide view of the coast from the tower. Hidden from sight amongst the trees, the location provided an ideal lookout for approaching ships.

  The raven took to the air, gliding silently above, and disappeared over the trees. She pulled Bella’s head up and turned her back, then stopped, her eye caught by the grass around the castle. She studied it, a frown on her face, wondering why a deserted old ruin had a path of flattened spring grass leading to it.

  Georgiana glanced at the wooden door again. It looked too solid to be part of the ancient building and she wondered why someone had bothered to put a new door on an ancient castle. Doors were meant to keep people out. If she tried the door, would it be locked? she wondered. She glanced around the clearing but then decided the risk was too great. There were too many dark hiding places in the woods where someone could be watching her. She urged Bella around the side, staying amongst the trees to make sure she covered her own tracks. She rode all the way around, studying every detail.

  The only other path was an old road that led to the castle from the west. Barely visible under the spring growth, she could tell the road had not been used recently, but had been made ready. The grass on the road was shorter and the young trees that would grow in its sunlight had been removed.

  Who had gone to the trouble of maintaining the old road and why? And to where? She wound through the woods then joined one of the estate roads on the western portion. Someone also had purposely covered up the entrance with branches, so that from the estate road, the path was hidden.

  Not far from the cottages, she turned in their direction and noticed a small boy sitting alongside the road watching her. He stood suddenly, pulled his cap lower over his forehead, and walked casually on, whistling a tune and dragging a stick in the dirt behind him. Was he just a small boy out on the road playing on his way home? Most boys his age were out working, helping their families in the fields. Maybe he was working and his job was to watch the road at that particular place.

  He walked a little faster, glancing back at her to see if she was still there. Georgiana smiled and waved to him. He walked faster. She knew if she tried to follow him, he would easily lose her. Whomever he was on his way to inform, she was sure that person would come to her eventually. She would be patient, but she still wanted to know what the attraction was to the old ruins. She smiled. Maybe living in the country wasn’t going to be as dull as Edward seemed to think.

  She urged Bella on and inspected the progress on the new cottages, happy with the new design of three bedrooms and two common rooms. The old cottages were far too cramped and overcrowded. She gave the young architect the next installment of payment and praised him for the work already completed.

  On arriving back at Ravenstone, she sat down to tea and
her mother’s latest letter from London. The new furnishings were paid for and en route, she wrote. Charles was the newest Member of Parliament and was acquitting himself well on the floor. She also mentioned his role in the latest police reform bill. The Bow Street Runners were investigating the death of her father. They were looking for a young man with black hair by the name of George in connection to the murder. An eyewitness gave a description of the young man to the police and a sketch was provided. Georgiana tried not to let the fear curled up inside her escape. They were looking for a young man, she told herself. Eventually they would give up and it would be forgotten. Another unsolved crime among many.

  She continued with the letter, scanning ahead to see if her mother mentioned Jane and Margaret, but she didn’t. Georgiana sighed and put the letter down, rubbing her temples. She would write to Charles again, imploring him to bring the girls for a visit. Doubtless, he would reply that he hoped to soon, but that his new duties forced him to remain in town for the present.

  She took from the drawer the letters she had received from the girls, letters written with his help. She read them again, tears running down her cheeks, and she wiped her eyes so she could see their drawings. They wrote of playing in the garden, of their new governess who was teaching them French. They sounded happy, but that knowledge did little to stop the pain she felt in their absence.

  Folding the letters carefully, she retied the blue silk ribbon around them and replaced them in the drawer. She turned to look out the window just in time to catch Rupert shooting an arrow at James who stood against a tree with an apple on his head.

  “Dixon,” she screamed, not bothering with the bell.

  ***

  The doctor finished tying the bandage on James’s arm, and closed his case with a snap. He washed his hands in the water basin, and then turned to her. “He is a lucky young man,” the doctor smiled. “No real damage done. I will return to change the dressing. Make sure he doesn’t use his arm or the stitches will come undone. Maybe Rupert should not be allowed near a weapon until he learns to respect life.”