‘You did tell me to be sure to pack everything I needed,’ I said with asperity.
‘Quite right.’
He called Thompson in and gave the coachman a hand down the stairs with the heavy chest. When it was stowed in the carriage he came back to the bar, where I was fastening my still-damp cloak around my shoulders.
‘We’ll lock the door this time,’ he said. ‘You do have a key, I presume?’
I fetched it and handed it to him. He took one last look around, ensuring the fire was safely damped down and the windows secured. Then he went to the door.
‘Time to go, Flora.’
A lump rose in my throat, tears misted my eyes. I crossed the threshold quickly, not wanting to prolong the agony, and stood biting my lip and staring through a damp haze at the familiar scene.
* * *
The door thudded shut, I heard the heavy key turn in the lock. Louis put a hand beneath my elbow to guide me towards the carriage, and as he did so, slipped the keys of Tucker’s Grave into the pocket of his redingote.
It was that simple act that truly brought home to me the reality of what was happening.
The keys that had been my father’s, the keys to my home, were now lying in the pocket of another man, another master.
Nothing, I thought, would ever hurt me more.
Three
Darkness had fallen by the time we had travelled the fifteen or so miles to Belvedere and I was denied any glimpse of the house until we arrived at the impressive front door.
I had been aware that we had turned into a long straight drive that ran first under a canopy of bare dripping trees, and then through open land which was, Louis told me, a deer park, but of course I saw no deer. They, sensible creatures, were taking shelter from the inclement night, and even had they not been, it would have been too dark for me to pick them out. The courtyard we drew into was broad and ran the length of the house, with a structure of some kind that I thought might be a fountain in its centre.
But it was the house itself which I found myself staring at, my first view of it since I had looked across the valley as a child and seen a palace fit for a fairy-tale prince.
Close to, it was vast, uniform in design, with tall narrow windows and a roof topped with parapets. Much of it was in darkness, but at some of the windows lamps burned, small welcoming pools of light.
I did not feel, however, that they were welcoming me. I felt as lost and bereft as if I were a traveller staring at an alien landscape. I wanted nothing more than to go home to my familiar little room at Tucker’s Grave. That I could not was a physical ache within me, just another layer of pain.
The coachman came around and opened the carriage door; Louis climbed down first, then turned and handed me down, and I was glad this time of the strength of his arm. The jolting and swaying of the coach had made me feel a little queasy and I had taken nothing to eat all day, which was perhaps in the circumstances rather fortunate.
Someone must have been at one of the windows and seen the carriage on the drive, for as we approached the front door it was opened by an elderly man who I assumed was one of the servants Louis had mentioned. This was confirmed when he said: ‘Good evening, sir. Mr Gavin saw you were home and rang for me to open the door for you. It’s a filthy night.’
Through his hand on my elbow I felt Louis stiffen.
‘Mr Gavin is home?’ He sounded surprised.
‘Yes, indeed he is, sir. Home safe and sound, praise the Lord.’
‘He has only been on a business trip, Walter, not off to fight in some bloody battle,’ Louis said impatiently.
‘Well, yes, I know, sir, but these are dangerous times…’ The old man turned to me, not seeming in the least surprised to see me standing there.
‘And this must be the young lady. There’s a room ready for her as you instructed, and Cook has catered for an extra mouth at dinner tonight.’
So, I thought, Louis had planned to bring me back with him even before he set out for my father’s funeral. Well, I suppose that was to be expected. He had had a few days in which to decide to take his rightful inheritance of Tucker’s Grave Inn and remove me from the premises. I was still puzzled by his decision, however, and the firm stance he was taking. It seemed to me that bringing me to Belvedere would cause him far more inconvenience than leaving me at the inn until he decided what to do with it, and considering I was a stranger to him, despite our kinship, I was surprised he felt it necessary to take on responsibility for my welfare. There was nothing about Louis Fletcher that struck me as charitable. Rather, he was a cold hard businessman concerned only with his latest acquisition.
I found myself wondering whether Gavin was as unapproachable as his brother. Certainly on that long-ago visit he had seemed the merrier of the two, with his ardent desire to explore the secret passages beneath the inn. Well, I would soon find out, it seemed.
As the servant, Walter, took my cloak, I looked around. The entrance hall was large and square, bigger than our little parlour at the inn, with four or five doors opening off it, and a broad staircase with carved newel posts led up to the upper storey of the house. A long case clock ticked somnolently, an ornate mirror hung above a small half-moon-shaped table upon which stood a bowl of pot-pourri. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and was shocked by the paleness of my face. In my mourning black, with that white face, I might have been a ghost, had it not been for the bright gold of my hair.
‘Shall we go through?’ Louis suggested.
He pushed open a door on the left of the hall and I stepped into a room so elegant I was quite taken by surprise. The colour scheme was a deep rose pink, carried through the velvet upholstery of the chairs and chaise and the floor-length drapes which had been drawn against the wild night outside. The myriad light from a chandelier glinted on gilt and glass and highly polished wood, my feet sunk into a deep, richly patterned rug which covered most of the floor. However grand the house, however much it had resembled a fairy-tale castle, I had not expected this, for the rather feminine opulence was totally at variance with my impression of Louis as a very masculine man, with no time for fripperies.
Then I reminded myself – this house had been his father’s before it was his, and I seemed to remember my father saying that his cousin Peter had married a French wife. The decor here must have been her choice, and however little it was to his taste, Louis had never bothered to change it for a cosier, more English look. He was, in all likelihood, so used to it that he barely noticed it any more. And given his parsimonious nature, he would no doubt resent spending money on refurbishment in any case, I thought, a little censoriously.
Again to my surprise, the room was empty. I had expected to find Gavin here – and perhaps Antoinette, Louis’ daughter, too. But as I turned to say as much to Louis, the figure of a man appeared in the doorway.
‘Well, well, Louis! And what have you been up to whilst I have been away?’
At first glance there was no mistaking that they were brothers. They were of similar height, though Gavin was, if anything, the taller by an inch or two, and similar build, slim of hip yet muscular, with broad, powerful shoulders. Their colouring was similar too – dark, curling hair no longer hidden by the powdered wigs that had been so fashionable just a few short years ago, clearly defined features, olive skin, dark eyes.
But with the purely physical, the likeness ended. The set of their faces, their entire demeanour, made them different as chalk and cheese. Gavin’s generous mouth was not set in a hard line like his brother’s; by comparison it looked almost soft in its readiness to smile. And the devilish light was still there in his eyes – the light of a young man looking for adventure. I could see in an instant that Gavin was possessed of all the easy charm that Louis lacked, and I felt a huge rush of relief that I was not to spend my first evening here alone with the dour man who had unilaterally assumed responsibility for me.
‘I didn’t expect you back for another week or so,’ Louis said. There was a coldness in
his tone that hinted he was less than pleased to find his brother at home.
‘The business was concluded more speedily than I expected,’ Gavin said. ‘That happens sometimes, as well you know.’
‘Just so long as it was also concluded satisfactorily,’ Louis said without so much as the hint of a smile.
‘Naturally. But you haven’t answered my question, brother. What have you been up to in my absence that I find such a beautiful young lady at your side?’
His eyes were on me, appraising, appreciative, I might almost have thought. I flushed. I know I flushed, for there was more warmth in my cheeks than there had been for almost a week now. I felt it spread down my neck and chest beneath my gown. Surely he did not think that Louis and I…?
‘This is our cousin, Flora,’ Louis said. ‘Well, the daughter of our father’s cousin, at any rate. You remember Tucker’s Grave Inn? We went there once with Father when we were boys.’
‘Yes, of course I remember!’ Gavin’s eyes were still on me. ‘But you can’t be the little girl, surely…?’
‘It was nigh on twenty years ago, Gavin,’ Louis said drily. ‘Little girls grow up.’
‘And what a good thing they do!’ Gavin smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose I can see it now. Who could forget that wonderful golden hair!’
You had, clearly, I thought wryly. And given the scant notice either boy had taken of me, that was scarcely surprising.
‘But why is she here?’ he asked now.
‘A great deal has happened in your absence,’ Louis said shortly. ‘Flora has suffered a sad bereavement. Her father has been interred this very afternoon.’ He turned to me. ‘Perhaps you would like a little time alone, Flora. Walter said your room was ready for you, did he not? I expect you’d like to see it, and have the chance to freshen up before dinner.’
Without waiting for my reply, he reached for the bell pull; I heard it tinkle somewhere deep in the house, and a few moments later a maid appeared.
‘Would you show Miss Flora to her room please, Polly?’ he said briskly.
‘Yes, sir. Of course, sir.’ She was a rather plain girl with a snub nose and mouse-coloured hair that looked, I thought, none too clean. She was eyeing me up slyly but her eyes held none of the appreciation I had seen in Gavin’s. Rather, I think, she was taking in the quality of my attire and finding it wanting. Well, that was hardly surprising. Any guests here would be ladies of fashion, I felt sure, and just one of their gowns would, in all likelihood, be worth more than my entire wardrobe.
Well, I couldn’t be bothered about that. I had far too much on my mind to care about the disdain of a servant.
‘Walter will ring the gong when dinner is served,’ Louis said.
I nodded. ‘You’re very kind.’
But glad as I was to have the opportunity to be alone for a little while, I couldn’t help feeling that it was something other than consideration that had prompted Louis to offer me the refuge of the room that was to be mine for the duration of my stay here.
He wanted me out of the way, I suspected. He wanted to talk to his brother alone, perhaps about me, and his plans for Tucker’s Grave.
Once more I was struck by the feeling that something was not quite right here. Once more I felt there was more to Louis’ motives than met the eye. But beyond material gain, I could not imagine what it could be.
I followed the maid out of the room and up the stairs.
* * *
The room Polly showed me into was, I discovered, almost as richly furnished as the parlour had been, and in much the same colour scheme. Louis’ and Gavin’s mother had been, I decided, very fond of pink.
Unless of course it had not been their mother who had chosen the decor, but Louis’ wife. In spite of his bald statement: ‘I have no wife’, he must have been married at some time, since he had a daughter. What had become of her? I wondered. Presumably she was dead, but the cold tone in which he had spoken of her seemed to suggest that all had not been well between them.
Well, no doubt I would learn the facts in time, and for the moment I had far too much on my mind to concern myself with something that was none of my business. Louis’ wife, whoever she had been, and whatever had happened to her, was not here now, and therefore of little importance to my situation.
My trunk had been brought up and stacked on a low stool beside the window. I opened it and began unpacking, searching firstly amongst the folds of the petticoats for the small precious mementoes I had brought with me. Father’s mother-of-pearl-backed brushes went on to the cherry-wood dressing table, a little china rabbit I had owned since I was a child I put on top of the chest of drawers, midway between the candlesticks and dainty powder pots that already adorned it. The other things I placed in one of the drawers and covered them with a pile of clean linen.
The wardrobe was huge, far more space than I needed to hang my few good gowns. As I was shaking one out, concerned that it should not retain the creases of packing, there was a tap on the door and Polly came in carrying a jug of hot water.
‘The master thought you’d like to freshen up,’ she said, setting it down on the washing stand.
‘Thank you. Where will I find a towel?’
‘In the cupboard under the washing stand.’ But she made no attempt to get one out for me. Not that I especially wanted her to – I was not used to being waited on – but I was a little disconcerted by the deliberate lack of respect.
‘Will there be anything else?’ Polly asked, making the customary question sound somehow impertinent.
‘No, thank you.’
She left, closing the door after her, and I returned to the task I had set myself of hanging my gowns, such as they were, in the great wardrobe.
When the trunk was empty, I suddenly realized the box containing my pearl choker was missing. My heart sank as I realized I must have left it on the dressing table in my own room at Tucker’s Grave Inn. Oh, it would be safe enough, I supposed, but it was very precious to me; I wanted it with me. Such a small thing, but to me at that moment it seemed like a mountain, and it shattered the last of my fragile control. My lip quivered, and no matter that I tried desperately to stop them, the tears came again, coursing down my cheeks.
I sank down on to the pink counterpane, buried my face in my hands, and wept uncontrollably. I had lost my father and my home, I was grieving and alone in a strange and hostile environment, and I had left behind the gift my father had given me on my eighteenth birthday. I had always thought of myself as strong and resilient but I did not feel strong or resilient now. I felt bereft, lost, and afraid.
The tears fell and went on falling, the rain beat scudding tattoos against the windowpanes, and the water Polly had brought for me went cool in the jug.
I do not think I could have stopped those tears for a king’s ransom.
* * *
By the time the gong sounded, echoing through the great house, I had composed myself, washed my face and hands in the now tepid water, and tidied my hair.
Taking a deep breath, I opened my door and went along the landing to the staircase. I wished I could have excused myself from dinner; though I had eaten nothing all day I was past hunger and I knew it would be a struggle to force so much as a morsel of food down my dry and aching throat. But it was expected of me, and in any case, I could not avoid Louis and Gavin for ever.
Another door off the great hall was open; the clanking of chafing dishes being set on the sideboard and the sound of the men’s voices floated out. This must be the dining room, I thought, and they had already repaired there. I ran my hands quickly over the thick upsweep of my hair, though I had only just tidied it, and went in.
Louis and Gavin were indeed there, and the atmosphere in the room was tense. They had been arguing about something, I knew it instinctively, and the heightened colour in Gavin’s cheeks and the tightness of Louis’ lips confirmed it. I only hoped it was some business matter that was the cause of their falling out and not the fact that Louis had brought me here without a
ny reference to his brother, and certainly Gavin made every effort to make me feel welcome.
‘Flora! Are you feeling a little better now?’
‘I’m well enough, thank you,’ I said.
‘Are you sure that’s the truth? Come and sit down.’ He pulled out an ornately carved high-backed chair. ‘You’ll be beside me, and I shall make certain I take good care of you.’
Louis moved impatiently, his face dark, and the anomaly struck me; it was almost as if their roles had been reversed, as if it were Gavin who had imposed me upon Louis instead of the other way around.
‘You must be very upset,’ Gavin said solicitously.
‘These past days have not been the easiest I have lived through,’ I agreed.
‘Indeed not. It was you who found your father dying, Louis tells me.’
I nodded, my throat closing. I really did not want to talk about it.
‘And you have no idea who could have been responsible for such a terrible thing?’
‘No, I simply can’t imagine.’ I forced a small shaky laugh. ‘Certainly we have nothing worth stealing. We have always lived very simply.’
‘Perhaps it was you they wished to steal away,’ Gavin suggested. ‘You are a very beautiful young lady, Flora. Is there a lover you have spurned, perhaps?’
I stiffened. ‘Certainly not!’
‘Gavin, I don’t think…’ Louis interrupted, but Gavin ignored him.
‘You must have suitors, surely?’
‘No,’ I said sharply. ‘I’ve never had time for such things.’
It was not quite the truth, but I was not about to discuss my personal affairs with a stranger. There had been a young man, Ralph Tooze, from the village, who could have been said to be courting me. I had known him since we were children, and we had been the best of friends until he began to seek a change in our relationship and even hinted at marriage.
I was fond of Ralph, but he was more like a brother to me than a lover; I felt no spark of attraction, quite the opposite. The more his ardour grew, the less I wanted to spend time with him, and when he tried to kiss me I hated it. I had no wish to swap my busy, fulfilled life at the inn for the role of wife and mother to Ralph’s children, and I told him so in no uncertain terms. So I suppose it could be said I had spurned him.
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