by Sally James
Julia stood beside the crenellated wall which ran round the edge of the tower, and the girls pointed out the church steeple visible over the trees bordering the drive, a lazily meandering river, and various farms she could see in the distance. ‘That’s Carey coming back,’ Susan said, pointing. ‘He owns all the land in this valley, and all the houses in the village. We’ll take you round and introduce you one day soon, if Carey doesn’t.’
They were delightful girls, Julia thought as they went carefully down the stairs and out into the old bailey.
‘What was the ground floor used for?’ she asked.
‘In the olden days, storage,’ Caroline said. ‘And to keep prisoners. I don’t think there’s anything there now. Let’s see if the door will open.’
They walked along the side of the keep, past the massive buttresses, and stopped beside a relatively new door set into the wall. There did not appear to be any lock, so Caroline pushed it hard, and it moved a short way.
‘Come on, let’s all push together,’ she said, and Julia and Susan added their weight to hers.
Suddenly the door gave way, and as they toppled into the gloom beyond it Julia felt her skirt being pulled, as though someone were trying to pull her backwards, and at the same time heard a crashing noise just behind them. Clouds of dust blew up, and all three of them began to choke.
Chapter Twelve
Sir Carey heard the screams as he left the stable yard, and began to run. The doors to the undercroft stood open, and all he could see was a large lump of stone and what appeared to be a body lying partly beneath it. Legs and feet were visible, and a strip of fabric which, through the cloud of dust that covered it, looked remarkably like the green gown Julia had worn that morning. His heart raced, and he found he was mouthing supplications to the deity that she was still alive.
Someone was still screaming, someone else seemed to be sobbing, and then, with a surge of relief, he heard Julia speak.
‘Caroline, dear, are you hurt?’
His sister replied, her words incoherent, but mercifully the screaming stopped.
He reached the doorway, saw his sisters cowering together a yard away inside the building, and knelt down beside Julia. ‘Are you hurt?’ he demanded. ‘Julia, did it hit you?’
To his amazement she chuckled. ‘No, not really. I think it scraped my leg, but I’m pinned here. I can’t get up. The wretched thing’s holding my skirt down.’
‘We’ll soon get you free.’
He stood up and began to heave the lump of rock away from her.
‘Be careful! There may be other pieces coming down! If the wall up there’s not safe, that one could have dislodged others.’
As she spoke she wriggled away from the stone, and her skirt tore on a jagged edge. But she rolled free, and Sir Carey spared a glance towards the battlements. Immediately above them he could just see a slight unevenness, where a portion of the wall had broken away. Then he turned his attention to Julia.
She was sitting composedly on the ground with the remnants of her skirt pulled round her legs, but one side of the skirt was slit and through it Sir Carey saw that the skin on her lower leg had been scraped raw.
‘Let me look,’ he demanded. ‘No, don’t pull away from me, I won’t hurt you. Caroline, are you hurt? Or Susan?’
‘No, we - we were further inside than Julia,’ Caroline said.
Sir Carey was carefully feeling Julia’s leg, and ignoring her protests that she was only slightly hurt, and quite capable of dealing with it herself.
‘Good. Susan, you can stop crying, I need your help. Go and find Molly, and ask her to take water and salves to Julia’s room. Caroline, go and find a cloak or something Julia can wear over this dress. It’s ruined, and I don’t suppose she wants to walk through the house in such a state.’
‘You can let me speak for myself,’ Julia interrupted, struggling away from him. ‘I can walk, and as everyone will soon know what happened, I don’t need to cover my shame!’ She laughed shakily. ‘I’d like the water and salves, but if Caroline comes back with me she can call for help if I swoon from the excitement. I’d prefer you to go up and see why that rock fell. It all seemed quite firm when we were up there a few minutes ago, and there’s no wind. What made it fall?’
He looked at her and nodded. He’d been so concerned with making sure she was not badly hurt he hadn’t given a thought to how the stone had fallen.
‘I’ll come and see you as soon as I’ve checked.’
* * * *
Julia breathed a sigh of relief as she set off back to the house, with Caroline solicitously holding her arm. His touch on her leg had sent shivers coursing through her veins. It was similar to the sensations she had felt when, after the wedding, he had kissed her. Every time he touched her, to hand her from a carriage, or to guide her into a room, she seemed to tremble, but fortunately he did not appear to notice this. Briskly, she turned her thoughts away from him.
‘Caroline, it looks as though the top of the keep isn’t safe, but we kept away from the battlements. Did you see anything odd up there?’
‘No, but I wasn’t looking at them, I was showing you the view. Are you sure you’re not badly hurt?’
‘I’ll no doubt have a massive bruise, and it feels sore, but I was fortunate. It could have broken my leg, or worse. It was lucky you and Susan were right inside, and I almost was.’
‘Carey will forbid anyone to go near the castle now,’ Caroline said.
‘Then it’s fortunate I was able to see it first.’
They were silent while making for a side door, and going up the back stairs to Julia’s room. None of the servants saw them, and though Julia had made light of it to Sir Carey, she was relieved not to have them see her in such a filthy and dishevelled state.
‘Go and find Susan, and both of you change your gowns,’ Julia suggested. ‘The dust seems to have covered you as well as me.’
‘But I want to help you.’
‘Molly can do all I need. You ought to go and make sure Susan is all right. Find something to do to distract her thoughts.’
Caroline pouted, but went when she saw that Molly was waiting for Julia. After her first exclamations of dismay, Molly set to and helped Julia take off her ruined gown, then gently bathed the leg and smoothed on a salve.
‘It’s got a mixture of comfrey and woundwort,’ she said. ‘It’ll sooth it. And I’ll get some crushed parsley to ease the bruising later. Cook said to drink this tisane, it will ease your nerves and you’ll be able to sleep for a while.’
Julia was about to reply that her nerves didn’t need soothing, and she didn’t want to sleep, but everyone was being so solicitous it would be churlish to refuse. Suddenly the soft goose-feather mattress seemed desirable, so she made no protest when Molly produced her nightgown, and allowed herself to be tucked up without protest.
* * * *
Sir Carey considered the space on the battlements where the fallen stone had rested. The stone below was slightly hollowed at the top, and much paler than the exposed stones around it. Even a strong wind would have been unlikely to move it. And there had been no wind. He peered more closely, and soon spotted some scratches which seemed newly made in the join of the next two stones along. It looked suspiciously like an attempt to prise away the top stone with a knife or some other such tool. On even closer inspection of the gap there were a few marks which could have been made in the same way.
This indicated human intervention, and he felt a sudden surge of fury at the thought that his womenfolk had been in danger. Had it been an accident, some idiot fooling around and trying to see whether the stones were loose, or had it been a deliberate attempt to injure, or even kill, Julia? Or, he belatedly recalled, one of his sisters.
Thoughtfully he went back down the spiral stairs and through to the walled garden where he knew his head gardener was currently occupied. After a few general remarks he casually asked whether the man was satisfied with his under gardeners. ‘I suppose you know w
hat they are all up to, all the time?’ he said.
‘That I do, sir,’ was the reply. ‘I sets ‘em tasks, and know how long it should take ‘em, so woe betide any as I find idling.’
‘The pot boy, he’s new, isn’t he? Is he a hard worker? I know some lads that age can still be children, playing about when they think no one’s watching.’
‘Young Harry’s me sister’s lad, and though he’s but ten he knows better than to take liberties.’
Next Sir Carey went to the stables, where the head groom was sitting in the sunshine polishing a bridle. The same casual questions elicited the information that one of the grooms had gone down to the village on an errand, and the other was exercising the mare he’d chosen and sent down from London for the new Lady Evelegh to ride.
‘Not knowing how handy her ladyship is, sir, I thought it best to take the edge off the mare’s spirits. Will you be riding out again today?’
‘Not today. Tomorrow, perhaps.’
He strolled away, his thoughts in a whirl. If, and it seemed most likely, this was a deliberate attempt on Julia’s life, would any of his servants have been involved? He could scarcely question every one of them. Most of them had worked for him for years, many of them for his father too. It would have been possible for a stranger to enter the grounds and find his way unseen to the top of the keep, but how could anyone have known Julia would be there just at that moment? Could it have been one of the village lads, curious about the castle, simply messing about with a new knife, as he’d been known to do himself, with unintended consequences? An accident rather than a premeditated attack.
It was impossible to tell. If it had been some lad he would have been terrified of discovery, and would have escaped back to the village as soon as possible. Sir Carey came to the conclusion that was what had happened. There was nothing to be done, apart from having the stairs to the top of the keep blocked off to prevent another such accident.
He made his way more briskly to the estate carpenter’s shed, where he knew the man was mending some kitchen chairs, and gave his orders. ‘Some of the stones on the battlements are loose,’ he explained. ‘I don’t want any more being dislodged and falling down.’
That, he decided, would be the explanation. There was no point in revealing what he knew and starting yet more gossip and speculation in the house and village.
* * * *
When Sir Carey got back to the house he found Julia asleep. He stood beside the bed looking down at her. It was the first time he’d seen her asleep, apart from in the travelling coach, and he felt a sudden rush of tenderness, seeing her so vulnerable, and knowing he had so nearly lost her. Her mouth turned down slightly at the corners, whereas normally it was cheerfully smiling, and he wondered if she was having terrifying dreams. She had been so calm at the castle, soothing his sisters, who had not been so close to disaster, but he knew how one could, later, relive frightening events which had happened so fast there had not been leisure to panic or be worried at the time.
Unable to settle to anything, he wandered round the house. Having seen the difference Julia’s slight changes at the London house had made, he now noticed things he had before taken little heed of. The rooms, though scrupulously cleaned by his servants, looked cold and uninviting. There were no flowers. In the drawing room the chairs were ranged in rigid rows against the walls. The pictures were dark and gloomy, and any ornaments displayed were placed with no attention to order or compatibility.
Had it been like this in his mother’s day? It was a long time ago, and he recognized, somewhat ruefully, that small boys tended neither to notice nor care about their surroundings. He’d been much older during his father’s second marriage, but most of the time he’d been away at school or Oxford or in the army. During many vacations he had visited the homes of friends, or gone on walking or reading holidays with them. Since the second Lady Carey had died her daughters had been at school or in the charge of governesses, and for a while he had been in Russia. No one would have wanted to make changes in case they had offended him. Briefly he wondered whether Julia, if she had been a governess in a like situation, would have dared.
Miss Trant, though efficient and pleasant, and a prime favourite with the girls, would not have presumed. Though she had known the family all her life, she was a stickler for formality, still the daughter of a Rector who had depended for his living on the Eveleghs.
Still restless, he went back to the castle keep to see what progress the carpenter had made in blocking off the stairs. The man was making a good job of it. There were some stout bars held in place by brackets fixed to the walls. Anyone wishing to get past them would need an axe or a set of tools. He complimented the man and wandered back to the house, to find his steward waiting for him. He was able to immerse himself in estate matters until it was time for dinner, and when he went into the drawing room it was to find Julia there, directing one of the footmen where to place huge bowls of flowers.
The chairs had been moved, too. Some were drawn up before a cheerfully blazing fire, others arranged in small groups just right for conversations. Julia looked up and smiled at him.
‘My dear, should you be out of bed?’
‘I’m perfectly all right, sir, apart from a bruise on my leg. Even that does not pain much, thanks to the salve your housekeeper provided. It’s better than any I’ve had before, and I must ask her for the receipt.’
* * * *
On the following morning Julia insisted she was quite able to ride. ‘I am longing for some exercise,’ she told Sir Carey, ‘and wish to meet some of your people as soon as possible. At least let us go to the home farm, and the lady who keeps the gates. I promise I will tell you if I am tired or in discomfort.’
She accompanied him to the stables, saying she wished to see where her new mare was housed. ‘As well as speak to the groom who looks after her.’
Samuel, he said his name was, and came from near York.
‘You’re a long way from home,’ Julia commented.
‘Aye, but I’ve kinsfolk living near, and none of me own left back in Yorkshire. May as well bide here.’
‘Well, the mare looks healthy, and well turned out,’ Julia said and took the reins while she spoke softly to the mare, who nuzzled at her shoulder. She was a finely-boned roan, with two white socks on her forelegs, and bright intelligent eyes. Julia knew she would enjoy riding her.
‘I rode Daisy yesterday, me lady, she’s shaken off the fidgets. Ye’ll find her a steady ride.’
Julia smiled to herself. When her parents were alive she’d often ridden the horses belonging to the local squire, for she’d been the same age as his daughter, and they had roamed the countryside together. Most of those horses had been strong hunters, but she was a natural horsewoman and had easily controlled them.
She led Daisy over to the mounting block and was up in the saddle before Samuel or Sir Carey could help her. She stifled a twinge as her bruised leg rubbed against the pommel, but soon found a comfortable position.
Sir Carey mounted a large black gelding, a new hunter he intended taking to the hunting box in Leicestershire if it proved capable of tackling the country there. ‘If not, there are several hunts we could join in these counties. You would like to hunt?’
‘Indeed I would. It’s been a few years since I was able to, as being companion to an elderly lady didn’t include accompanying her on horseback, let alone hunting.’
‘We’ll leave the dogs at home today,’ Sir Carey said, and told Samuel to take the disappointed trio back to the house. ‘They might upset Daisy until she’s used to them.’
They soon reached the home farm, a neat thatched house with a large yard surrounded by barns and sheds. A flock of hens scuttled away as they rode in, and two dogs which had been sleeping in the weak sunlight woke up and came towards them, barking.
Daisy shied, but Julia was able to control her, as a woman appeared at the farmhouse door and called the dogs to heel.
‘My lord, I didn’t he
ar you coming. I’m that sorry about the dogs. My lady, are you all right?’
Julia nodded, and glanced at Sir Carey. The black gelding had taken fright, and was doing his best to bolt, but Sir Carey was in control, and soon the horse settled down.
‘Mrs Harris, good day to you. I came to see how you do, and introduce my wife.’
‘And glad we all are to see you wed, sir. Will ye both come inside and have some ale and perhaps one of my scones? I baked them fresh this morning.’
By this time a gangling lad of about fifteen had emerged from one of the barns and come to hold the horses. Sir Carey slid from the saddle and came to lift Julia down.
‘That would be very welcome,’ Julia said, holding her hand out to Mrs Harris.
Mrs Harris bobbed a curtsey, then shyly took Julia’s hand for a moment. ‘It’s glad we all are to see Sir Carey wed at last,’ she said again. ‘We want little ones up at the manor, that we do, and at times we thought we’d never get any. But ye looks a healthy enough lass. Jed, go and fetch your Pa, he’s in the five acre. Come in, do, and please excuse the state of the kitchen. Baking day, it is.’
‘Everything smells delicious,’ Julia said, ushered in front of Mrs Harris into a large, cheerful kitchen. On the table, cooling, were trays of scones, a large fruit cake, several loaves of bread, and half a dozen pies.
‘You keep a good table,’ Julia said, relishing the aromas.
‘That I do, wi’ Mr Harris and eight growing lads and lasses to feed! Now sit down, do. Or would you prefer the parlour? But there’s no fire lit there.’
‘This is wonderful,’ Julia reassured her, and pulling out a stool sat at the big table. ‘I much prefer kitchens when they’re as welcoming as this one.’
Mrs Harris fetched a large cheese, some butter and a jar of strawberry jam from the pantry, set plates and knives in front of Julia and Sir Carey, who had pulled out another stool opposite, and began to carve one of the loaves.
We won’t need to eat again today, Julia thought in amusement, and wondered how they might avoid having to eat half of the good things on the table.