Ravenstone (Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles)

by Louise Franklin

  Dr. Milton was an agreeable old gentleman with grey hair and a rounding figure. He had a kind face and gentle manner that he used to put his patients at ease. He had quickly calmed James down and managed to have him hold still while the arrow was removed from his arm.

  “It’s my fault, I’m afraid,” she said. “I never should have read them Robin Hood.”

  She gently wrapped James in a blanket. He had stopped crying, his small hiccups settling down as he drifted off to sleep, exhausted. He lay on the settee, his small head cradled in her lap, and she ran a hand gently through his hair, reassuring him.

  “He is not yours, I take it,” Dr. Milton asked, not unkindly. “For I would surely have been so informed by now.”

  “No,” she smiled but gave no further explanation, and he did not push the matter. “Is there much talk of me?”

  “Oh, dear me, yes,” he smiled. “The countryside is ablaze with talk of the mysterious beauty, Lady Fairchild of Ravenstone. To have spotted you riding across the fields or observe you atop the cliffs looking out to sea is like having glimpsed a ghost itself.”

  She sighed, not pleased, wishing she could keep to herself without creating a dramatic mystery that would only fuel curiosity.

  “I wouldn’t worry about it,” Dr. Milton said, reading her response correctly. He poured himself a cup of tea. “They will soon find something else to gossip about.”

  “How can they gossip about me if they know nothing of me?”

  “You had thought to escape to the peaceful countryside?” he asked, smiling. “Alas, out here the gossipmongers have more time to devote to gossiping.”

  “And what could they possibly be saying about me?”

  He leaned slightly forward and lowered his voice. “I have it on good authority that you stare out to sea above the cliffs to watch for your lover who will return soon to claim you and carry you away.”

  She smiled slowly, and then laughed. “How romantic.”

  “You are not too upset then?” he asked.

  She shrugged and said, “It would do me no good, would it?”

  Peter knocked softly on the open door and waited for her to wave him in.

  “This is Dr. Milton,” she said, introducing them, and was surprised to see Dr. Milton stand and bow to him.

  Peter seemed just as surprised, and hesitated a moment before returning the greeting. He had been away in town when the incident happened and had only just returned. Then he moved forward to see James.

  “He is fine,” she reassured the older boy, and saw the tension leave his body.

  “I will pay the expenses,” he said, his face set in a hard line. He pulled from his pocket some coins, and waited for Dr. Milton to tell him how much.

  Surprised, Dr. Milton looked at her, and she gave a small nod. He named a sum she knew to be far too low. Peter handed over the coins, then picked James up gently and carried him out.

  Dr. Milton watched him leave, and then looked at the coins again.

  “He gave me more than I asked for,” he said, sitting down again.

  “He knew you were asking too little. He is a proud young man.”

  “Remarkable,” he said, shaking his head and pocketing the money. “He will be a good example for his younger brothers.”

  She didn’t inform him that they were not related.

  “What happened to his face?”

  She didn’t really want to say, but Dr. Milton had been so kind.

  “A street fight, I believe.”

  Dr. Milton didn’t seem surprised. He simply shook his head. “It’s a crime what some children suffer in this world. Is it what happened to the other boy?”

  He was referring to Eye, who had been present in the drawing room when the doctor had first arrived. Eye had been the first to appear at James’s side and had carried him inside.

  “That’s Eye,” she said, shaking her head. “He was held down and his eye cut out as a warning not to steal in another gang’s territory.”

  Dr. Milton took a sip of his tea, a thoughtful look on his face. “I worked in London for a time and after some years of taking care of the rich, I decided to open a small clinic near the docks. I never worked so hard in my life. I felt so helpless in the face of so much desperation. I collapsed one day from pure exhaustion and a feeling of utter defeat. My dear wife insisted we move here to a quiet practice in the country.”

  “You are a good man,” she said.

  “Am I?” he asked, his face sad. “I feel every day as if I abandoned them.”

  She remained silent, letting him struggle with his own demons.

  “You are kind to give sanctuary to these boys. It is far more than many would do. I have heard that you are even teaching them to read and write.”

  She looked at him calmly even though she felt alarmed that he should know so much. Servants talked and she could not control it. She couldn’t say why she should feel alarmed that he knew. Her need for secrecy was making her feel anxious about too much and she resolved to be calmer.

  “I hardly give them anything,” she said, her voice even. “They work for me and I wish them educated enough to be of use. I should dismiss them were they not capable of good work. Nothing more.”

  After the doctor departed, Georgiana sat thinking about her nervous state and decided she needed something to occupy her. The old castle was a good place to start.

  ***

  An owl hooted, turning his head backwards to look at her, and she shivered, rubbing her arms as she folded them. It wasn’t the first time she had come out to the ruins, but the visit had been uneventful. She sat in the shadows of a tree as the clouds drifted in front of the half-moon in the sky, and waited patiently for something to happen.

  She rubbed at the new blisters on her hands absently. Climbing out of her Ravenstone bedroom window had been far more challenging than her window in London. A much higher descent, and the walls were damp and slippery with moss. She had almost fallen off the roof tonight, and the misstep had sent her heart racing.

  She didn’t know what it was she hoped to achieve with her vigil, only that having more information had always served her better than having less. Edward had, after all, put her in charge of Ravenstone and she meant to know everything that happened in what she now considered her home. She smiled at the thought. She had become possessive of the old stone house and its surrounding countryside. She managed to attain a independence here she had never known before, and it was this she told herself that she meant to protect above all else. If Ravenstone did not survive, neither would she. Their fates were linked now.

  A barely audible sound alerted her suddenly, and she sat up and watched the wooden door swing open from the inside and four men emerge. The last one locked the door before they all walked west through the grass and down the road. A silent group, they departed quickly, and soon the clearing was empty again.

  She sat back against the tree and waited just in case one of them returned. After a few minutes, she left her hiding place and walked toward the tower using the same path they had through the grass. She tried the door even though she knew it would be locked. She would learn nothing more tonight, she knew. Walking back down the hill toward Ravenstone, she paused to stand behind a tree to listen in case someone had followed, but the night remained still.

  Once back in bed, she lay awake thinking about the stories she had heard about smugglers along the coast. The cliffs along the Ravenstone property had many small coves that could easily hide small boats from view. The war with Napoleon on the peninsula was costly, and the government had raised import taxes and added new ones. The tax on tea had been in force since the beginning of the war. Poor families in the country who were already burdened could not pay the new taxes. Not without an extra income. Smuggling allowed the southern counties to prosper.

  The majority of laborers in the country had enough money to buy food but not enough to buy coal to cook it with, and thus ate mostly bread and cheese. She had discovered this only recen
tly. She had made sure that the new cottages all had a fireplace for cooking but had failed to recognize that the families could not afford the wood or coal on their wages because the price of goods had gone up so much during the war.

  She had also discovered that, like the house staff, they had not been paid by Mr. Madden for their labor in the fields for months. She had paid them the back wages and allowed them to cut wood from fallen trees in the forest. She knew they had done it without permission before, but now they could do it without fear of being caught. Even so, it was not enough.

  Were they smuggling to make an extra income, and if they were, could she stop them? Did she have a right to? They had fended for themselves since Mr. Madden’s arrival. She would not be surprised to find it was Mr. Madden who was using the old ruins to smuggle. She had to get into the tower to take a look, and she was going to need help doing it.

  13

  The confusion of voices in the hallway gave the first indication that Georgiana’s carefully guarded privacy had been penetrated by her nearest neighbors, the Kingstons. Despite Elton’s objections, the unwelcome visitors insinuated themselves through the front door and down the hall in her direction. She barely had time to compose her face into a mask of false delight when they burst into the drawing room. She bid Lady Kingston and her daughters welcome and ordered tea, having no other choice.

  “It is regrettable,” Lady Kingston said, “that you are unable to make the rounds of the neighborhood so I have taken it upon myself to come for a visit. It is fortunate we find you in today.”

  It was not yet midafternoon, and a heavy deluge had already forced them to light candles to dispel the gloom. Georgiana drew her attention away from the storm that threw a torrent of water at the windows, and studied Lady Charlotte Kingston and her two daughters in the doorway. They had paid a visit before but Georgiana had been out, and remained out until they departed. Lady Kingston had been astute enough to visit during a storm this time.

  Georgiana watched her remove her wet hat. Shaking it free of water, she placed it near the fire to dry. She was a middle-aged woman, quite handsome if she could remember not to pull her lips together in a continuous pout. Far from giving her an appealing look, it made her seem somewhat comical.

  “It is kind of you to take the trouble on such a wet day,” Georgiana said, smiling, and turned to the two daughters who sat on the edge of the settee looking quite uncomfortable and wet. They were probably Lydia’s age, she guessed, friends of hers, who studied Georgiana closely for a sign of what she did not know. A moment or two passed before one of the girls had the courage to speak.

  “Lydia tells us you enjoy riding?” Caroline asked politely.

  “Yes,” she said smiling slowly, and taking her time to answer. “I enjoy the fresh air.”

  “The weather has been so wonderful of late that you have gone out every day,” said her sister, Dorothea, her tone almost admonishing.

  “Have I?” she asked and Dorothea had the good grace to look ashamed.

  Lady Kingston sat down next to her daughters and smiled at Georgiana. “You must forgive my daughters for, you see, they have been ever so excited to meet you since Lydia spoke of you.”

  “I have been rather busy with running the estate,” she said, and answered the knock on the door.

  Mrs. Bristow entered with the tea tray and placed it in front of Georgiana, and then left, closing the door behind her.

  “Running the estate?” Lady Kingston asked, confused. “Surely, you have a steward to see to those matters?”

  “Yes, Mr. Madden has been a great help but I prefer to keep an eye on the workings of the estate myself.”

  “My goodness how… unusual,” she said, her tone disapproving. “Shall I pour?”

  Georgiana nodded, and looked at the girls to see them glancing at her legs. They were probably disappointed that there was nothing to see under her skirts. At least, they had the grace to look away, flushed with embarrassment and avoided further glances at her lower limbs.

  “Thank you,” Georgiana said, taking a cup of tea and holding it in her lap. The room descended into silence and Georgiana waited, smiling pleasantly, as they all took small polite sips of their tea. As hostess, it was up to her to avoid a gap in conversation, but she had never felt an inclination to adhere to social etiquette.

  “Have you been staying long at Ravenstone?” Lady Kingston asked eventually.

  “Two months now.”

  “I see. And your husband, I understand, has returned to London.”

  “Yes,” she said simply, knowing that what Lady Kingston was really asking was why had he returned to London, leaving his wife here alone?

  “You have not been wed long then?”

  “No, not long.”

  “It is to be expected, I suppose, under the circumstances,” she said, glancing at Georgiana’s legs.

  Georgiana could feel her restraint slip and, biting her tongue, she did her best to ignore this last comment.

  Lady Kingston took a sip of her tea again and the clock was the only sound heard but for the clatter of teacups on saucers. Outside, the wind was blowing the rain against the window.

  “Sir Edward and your mother were kind enough to visit us before they returned to London.”

  “Were they?” she said. “And how did you find them?”

  “Find them?”

  “Was my mother terribly polite? And my brother, did you find him an exceptional young man ready for matrimony?”

  The girls both blushed as if caught at an indiscretion, and Lady Kingston’s gaze turned slightly colder.

  “I found them both as expected. Lady Wyndham is amiable and your brother also. Will he be visiting again soon?” she asked.

  Georgiana smiled, and glanced at the girls, and saw they were watching her closely again, interested in her next words. She lifted her cup to her lips and took a sip of her tea, lowering the cup again before answering. “I imagine not,” she said. “His responsibilities in London keep him away, I’m afraid.”

  “That is unfortunate. We had so hoped to be able to send him an invitation to our summer ball at Hamly House.”

  The girls looked disappointed and both turned to their mother in silent communication. “Perhaps you would be so kind as to let us know when your brother is to visit again for he has caught the attention of my girls, as you can see.”

  “I am at your service,” she lied as the girls once more would not meet her eyes.

  “It is difficult to find an eligible bachelor in the country. Most young men prefer to remain in London to amuse themselves with town pleasures. We had hopes for a while of Sir Edward for Caroline but you have snapped him up with your great fortune.

  “Then, of course, there is Captain Markham, who has inherited Evansgate Hall. He is a fine young man of great character and good temper. But even he was only in residence long enough to settle the estate before returning to London, and now we have heard he has returned to sea, where he is sure to be remain a good long while.”

  Georgiana tapped the side of her teacup with a finger, half listening to the rest of Lady Kingston’s words. She studied the two girls, wondering which Nicholas would prefer. Caroline was the elder and pretty. She had a kindness about her that her equally pretty sister Dorothea seemed to lack. Caroline’s soft nature and beauty would appeal to his romantic, sentimental side.

  “Don’t you think so?” asked Lady Kingston.

  Georgiana hesitated a moment, not having heard the last few words said. Not sure what she should say, she settled on one word hoping for the best. “Indeed,” she said. It was a word that covered so many instances without giving offense and she thought it a wise choice.

  Lady Kingston smiled and Georgiana relaxed again.

  “Excellent. We will look forward to your visit at Hamly House in a fortnight,” Lady Kingston said, and made to stand as Georgiana paled. Had she really just agreed to that? She must have, for Lady Kingston looked pleased with herself. They bid her good
bye and exited to their waiting coach.

  “Damn,” Georgiana said to no one in particular.

  ***

  James had recovered well and with the bows and arrows under lock and key, he was soon following Rupert into misadventure again, the wolfhound pup keeping up with them as its legs grew ever longer. The rugs and Italian furniture from London arrived and were moved into the house, giving the rooms an air of a real country estate. Her mother’s letters still failed to tell her even a few words about Jane and Margaret.

  Harry taught her how to pick a lock and she practiced until she had mastered her new skill. Then she returned that night to the tower. Even though she had practiced her lock picking skills in the dark of her bedroom, it took nearly her an hour before she heard the tiny clink of the lock giving way. She paused on the threshold, the door finally open, and listened. She was alone.

  Inside the tower walls, she reached for a candle in her pocket and pulled it out along with some touch paper wrapped in a dry rag. She took out her knife and struck a small flint against the back of the knife to create a spark that soon ignited the touch paper.

  With her candle lit, she closed the tower door behind her, making sure it did not lock, and then made her way down the stone stairs. She walked down into an old dungeon and held the candle high, but the light could not penetrate into the deep darkness that surrounded her. She walked forward carefully, only to stop when her left foot struck an object that scraped across the floor, making her jump. She waited for her heartbeat to return to normal then bent down to find an oil lamp. She lit it, then extinguished her candle, placed it back in her pocket.

  She moved further into the dungeon, and frowned when she found small barrels and bales stacked neatly together. There must be over a hundred barrels and just as many bales. She moved forward and bent down to run her finger along the seam of a barrel that leaked a small amount of liquid and smelled it. It was brandy. Next to the barrels, bales were stacked that contained tobacco wrapped in oilskin to make them watertight. Where did it all come from?

  She combed the dungeon until she found an iron gate at the mouth of a tunnel that led downhill. She swung the heavy gate open, the sound echoing in the stillness, and made her way carefully down the tunnel. Soon she heard the rush of waves breaking on a beach, and the smell of salt water grew strong. The tunnel ended on a narrow beach completely hidden by the tall cliffs that surrounded it on three sides.