I thought of all I had seen and heard since I came to this place. The brutalised bodies of the animals, the wild laughter, Uther’s stories of long-dead Jagos and their unhinged deeds, the scratches to Betty’s face…
“Aunt Demelza.” I hardly dared say the words out loud. “Can it be… Oh, surely not! Aunt, is Tynan…mad?”
She covered her face with her hands. And that was all the answer I needed.
* * *
Betty was unaccountably late and I had already changed for dinner when a hesitant tap on the door interrupted my thoughts. I turned to greet her, but the smile died on my lips as Miss Clatterthorpe entered.
“Her Ladyship sent me to wait on you, miss,” she informed me, with something suspiciously like a sniff.
“But where is Betty?” I asked, surprise echoing in my voice. An image of her poor, bruised face made me decidedly uneasy. I should have made Betty tell me the whole story.
“Gone off” was the short reply as the pinch-faced dresser took up the hair brush and began to pull it through my hair with what appeared to be unwonted, and quite painful, enthusiasm.
“What on earth do you mean, ‘gone off’?” I asked in some annoyance.
She sighed in the manner of one struggling to explain a simple concept to a small child. “The young ’uns never stay long, miss. They think it’ll be romantic living in a castle and all, but they don’t like hard work and most of ’em don’t last more than a couple o’ months.”
“But Betty was a good worker! And she really needed this job—” I bit my lip. I had said too much already. It would be all around the servants’ hall by dinner time that Miss Alleyne had been guilty of gossiping with her maid. I could imagine Miss Clatterthorpe’s high-pitched squeak: Quality—or the lack of it—always shows itself in the end. Her overfamiliarity with the likes of us just proves she’s not fit to be included in the family! I could see Mrs Lethbridge and Mrs Huddlestone nodding their sage agreement.
“Thank you, Clatterthorpe, that will be all,” I said with quiet dignity and she curtsied slightly, relieved to be able to end the burden Demelza had placed upon her. It was clear she viewed waiting on the poor relation to be beneath her station.
Over dinner, I mentioned the matter to Demelza, who sighed. “Clatterthorpe is, sadly, quite right, my dear. It has proved very difficult in recent years to get younger servants to stay. They are frightened off by either the stories which abound in the villages about ghosts here in the castle, or by the prospect of having to exert themselves in a little labour.” I noticed the look that passed between her and Uther and wondered if there could be another reason why the younger generation were reluctant to work at Tenebris. Could it be that rumours about Tynan’s condition were already circulating?
Tynan joined in the conversation. “Still, it’s a devilish shame if, having been persuaded to give it a go, the girl should make off without a word about why. Was she the blonde girl I’ve seen about the place? The pretty one?” I nodded my confirmation. “Well, she was always very agreeable and undeniably decorative! We could definitely do with recruiting a few more like her.” Again that look between his aunt and uncle made me feel uncomfortable.
* * *
The arrangements for the ball were many and complex, but I could not help feeling that Demelza had manufactured a role for me where none actually existed. She, Mrs Lethbridge and Mrs Huddlestone already had the organisation of the event well in hand. The hall floor had been brushed and scrubbed until the flags shone. The woodwork was polished so ferociously that the scent of beeswax stung my eyes. Chandeliers gleamed like diamonds.
I had written over a hundred invitations, my copperplate script a lasting testimony to the tenacity of my governess. These were hand-delivered by the grooms, and Demelza was collating the replies. My only other job, in addition to flower arranging, was to organise the music. A quadrille band had been engaged, and Demelza asked me to ensure that there was a good balance of different dances. It was hardly a task to tax my ingenuity.
Details of the formal supper were planned with military precision. At midnight all of the guests would sit down to a ten-course meal. This was to consist of turtle soup, oysters, pigeon pie, roast turkey with stuffing, roast pork with buttered potatoes, two vegetable side dishes, veal with baked mushrooms, fresh baked rolls, homemade butter, sweet pickles, cake, preserved fruits and a cheese board. Crate upon crate of wine and champagne were carried up from the cellar by sweating footmen. In addition to this feast, light refreshments would be provided in the breakfast room, in case the guests should feel the need of sustenance throughout the evening. Tea and coffee, ices, jellies, biscuits, cold meats, salads and a profusion of finger sandwiches were agonised over with Mrs Huddlestone changing her mind several times a day. Two footmen would man a temporary cloakroom, which would be located in the library, and the morning room was a designated place for ladies to affect such repairs to their appearance as might prove necessary due to the exertions of the dance.
The pleasant task of selecting the right material for a new gown occupied a considerable portion of my time. Demelza, perhaps anticipating my objections to incurring her any additional expense, informed me sternly that, as a young lady of the house, it was my duty to be one of the best-dressed ladies present. With this stricture in mind, we ordered the carriage and indulged in a pleasant day’s shopping in Wadebridge.
“You are so fair and slender—really, I never understood the term sylphlike until I saw you, Lucy dearest—so that only white, or another very light colour, can really be considered suitable. What do you think of this pale blue muslin, with the white tulle overskirt? See how cleverly the embroidery shimmers in the light? And your hair is so beautiful that one or two white roses will be all the embellishment you need.” She nodded, pleased with these choices and, ticking items off on her fingers with brisk efficiency, made sure we also ordered gloves, satin slippers and a pretty painted fan.
“What is the difference between a ‘dance’ and a ‘ball’?” Tynan asked as he handed me down from the carriage on our return.
“It is to do with the number of guests,” Demelza informed him, directing a footman to unload our packages. “Under fifty guests signifies a mere dance, while over a hundred can be classed as a large ball.”
“What an extraordinary number of purchases you appear to have needed in preparation for this little hop!” Tynan eyed the staggering footman with wonder.
“Nonsense! A lady must be well dressed. These things are noticed, you know. We do not entertain much, but Lucy’s first appearance will be remarked upon by our neighbours. And the Tenebris summer ball is such a local highlight! Why the only year we didn’t hold it was…” She broke off and appeared to find something interesting about the fit of her gloves.
“Ah,” Tynan said knowingly. “That would be the year my parents died, I expect. Nice to know they were accorded so much respect by their loving family.” Offering me his arm with supreme courtesy, he escorted me into the house.
* * *
I decided to pick some wild flowers to complement the formal arrangement of blooms the gardeners had selected as decorations for the ball. I took up my basket and, donning a straw bonnet to keep the sun off my face, I set off toward two cliffs. I had not gone very far before a shout drew my attention. Turning, I waited as Tynan ran to catch up to me. I had not spoken to him alone since Demelza’s disquieting revelation about his mental state.
“May I walk with you?” he asked as he drew level with me. His eyes scanned my face anxiously.
“Of course.” I explained my errand, and he fell into step beside me. We walked on in silence.
“Have I offended you in some way, hweg?” he asked eventually and I stopped, turning to face him. The concern on his face made my eyes sting slightly. I wasn’t sure how to respond. I so desperately did not want him to feel rejected or pitied.
“I have not known what to say to you,” I explained, deciding, in the end, that honesty was the best policy. “Dem
elza spoke to me about your illness and…I…”
“Ah.” His lips twisted slightly. “I see.” He began to turn away, but I put my hand on his arm.
“No, you don’t!” I said urgently. “You don’t see at all! I want to understand, and to help you, Tynan. You are my friend, and that’s what friends do. They don’t turn their backs just because things are difficult.”
“I don’t know much about these matters,” he said with quiet bitterness, “but I imagine it is mighty rare, however, to discover that your friend is a raving lunatic!”
“Don’t speak that way! Don’t ever talk of yourself in those terms,” I ordered, and he gave a weak little laugh that did not quite work.
I linked my arm through his and we strolled on. The solemn greeting of the sunshine turned the sullen cliff into a radiant flowerbed. I began to pick flowers randomly, my thoughts still troubled. Tynan helped and soon my basket was full with a riot of sweet-smelling colour. We tarried awhile, sitting on the springy blanket of grass. I made a daisy chain and hung it about Tynan’s neck, and he struck a pose that made me giggle. I don’t know who felt the weight of sadness more, but our laughter and nonsense was tinged with fear. Eventually, reluctantly, we rose to our feet.
“You said you don’t know if you love Uther, but could you love me, Lucy? Could you?” Tynan demanded, catching up my hands and holding them close against his chest. “If this was all there was, no Uther, no Tenebris, nothing else,” and I knew he was referring to his own instability, “could you be mine?”
I looked into his clear eyes, free in that moment in time of fear and pain and, truthfully, I nodded.
He laughed and pulled me into a quick embrace, dropping a swift kiss onto my hair. “Then, with that, I will be forever content!”
Hands clasped, we ran along the cliff path like children, for all the world as if we were younger and lighter and gladder of heart.
* * *
I carried my basket of flowers into the hall and set about arranging them into tall, glass vases. I was engrossed in my task and did not notice Uther until he slid his arms about me from behind and pulled me hard against him. With unerring accuracy, his lips found and nuzzled the tender spot where my neck met my shoulders. I gasped with pleasure and felt the immediate arousal of his erection press hard into the small of my back.
“Someone could come,” I whispered, pulling away and glancing around me fearfully.
“I was hoping that someone might be you,” he confessed ruefully. “You have only to say the word and I’ll make damn sure of it! You know I can make it happen here and now in a few quick seconds or, should you wish, keep you hovering there for hours.” He laughed as the ready blush sprang to my face. “No? Another time, maybe?” He flicked my cheek carelessly in a familiar gesture and was gone, leaving me with a series of thoughts that made me weak with lust. I was not alone for long.
“Oh, how pretty!” Demelza flitted across the stone flags towards me and, with her head on one side, viewed the vase of flowers. “Have you seen my brother?”
“You have just missed him,” I explained, and she pouted in annoyance.
“I declare, he is the most provoking creature alive. He knew I particularly wished to speak to him today…. How very kind you are to do this job for me, dearest.” Swiftly, she completely rearranged one of the vases as she spoke.
“I wish there was something more I could do for you, aunt,” I said impulsively. “You have been so kind to me and you ask so little in return.” I was aware of her studying me from under her long lashes and I turned to fully face her. “Is there something more?” I asked.
“You must know there is!” she burst out. Laughing at the look of surprise on my face, she clasped my hands and half dragged me into the library, closing the door behind us. The room was in the process of being converted into a cloakroom for the ball and was in an unaccustomed state of disarray. “We can be private here,” she assured me.
“Aunt Demelza, if there is anything, anything at all you need from me, you have only to ask.”
“Marry Tynan!”
“Pardon?” I closed my eyes in shock.
“You heard me. I know you did.” Her tone was impatient. “Marry Tynan. Let this ball be your engagement party. Become Countess of Athal.”
I opened my eyes and stared in astonishment at her radiant, glowing face. “But it was only days ago that you told me Tynan was mad!”
“And he is still mad, of course! That hasn’t changed. It never will, you foolish girl.” She drew a deep, calming breath. “That is what makes it imperative that he should marry now, before his condition deteriorates any further!”
I couldn’t speak. I opened my mouth, but no words would come. Demelza appeared not to notice my plight and continued. “Tenebris must have an heir! But Tynan’s wife has to be someone we—Uther and I—can trust. The world must never know the truth about his condition. He will soon be of age, but we cannot allow him to take control of his fortune, or risk him leaving here. Before long, Uther will have to take legal steps to have him declared insane and incarcerate him here permanently.”
“That is why you brought me here. That’s why you look at me that way sometimes…as though you are measuring me. I understand it now,” I said slowly. “This is what you planned all along.”
“Nonsense,” she said with a brittle little laugh. But she was having difficulty meeting my eyes. “I brought you here because I wanted to help you. But when I see how fond he has become of you, and how well you manage him—”
“And what happens when he decides to beat me to death as his father did his mother?” I asked angrily.
“That will not happen,” she said coolly. “When the madness is upon him, when the moon waxes to fullness, we will not allow him to come near you.”
“We?” Even as I asked the question, I knew I did not want to hear the answer. It didn’t matter anyway; my words were just noise to her, an interruption that she had to tolerate before she could speak again.
“Before you dismiss this for silly, girlish reasons, just consider the advantages of the match, Lucy dearest.” Lady Demelza tried to clasp my hand, but I kept my bunched fists tucked into the folds of my skirt. “You like Tynan. You will be a countess—mistress of Tenebris!—a position most women in your circumstances would give their eyes for. You will have wealth beyond your imaginings and, once there is a Jago heir, no one will question it if you should seek affection elsewhere.”
“Stop it!” My voice shook with the strength of my emotions. “How can you speak of him this way? Your own nephew…that poor, poor boy… Oh, how delighted you must have been to find me! I was perfect for your plans, wasn’t I? You knew that I had no one else in the world.”
She moved towards me, but I forestalled her. Shaking my head, I ran from the room and up to my bedchamber. Once there, I lay on my bed for what felt like hours, too shocked and frightened to even cry. My mind replayed my first meeting with Demelza. Her bright beauty had been in stinging contrast to the bleakness of Mrs Grimshaw’s faded death-mask. I relived the feeling of her scented embrace and caressing tones, so perfectly pitched to draw in a young woman who had just lost everything that mattered in her world. Me. The perfect dupe. I understood all too well the assessing looks she had given me, her insistence that I call her “aunt,” the crushing generosity…
I imagined a scene, perhaps over the breakfast cups. Uther looking up from his newspaper and saying, “I say, Demelza, didn’t that mousy little second cousin of ours—what was her name now? Lizzie? Liza?—marry a chap named Alleyne?”
“Yes, indeed,” the Demelza of my imagination replied. “He was a dreadfully bourgeois fellow by all accounts. And she was dull as dishwater! What of it?”
“Met with a nasty end in Aden, according to this article. Describes him as a widower who leaves a young daughter out in India.”
“Poor girl! She will be quite alone…” And my fertile mind’s eye saw that look, the oblique glance they reserved only for eac
h other, pass between them as their beastly plan began to blossom.
But I could not see how the heat Uther had so masterfully generated between us fitted into this scheme. Dare I hope against hope that he had been so overcome by passion for me that he had abandoned his part in the plan for me to marry Tynan? Even from the depths of my heartsick misery, I gave a snort of laughter at the thought. The Uther Jago I had come to know, the man who put his family pride and his wild castle home above all else, did not fit the romantic ideal my imagination was trying to make of him.
Driven by some masochistic impulse, I went in search of him. I had to hear him say it, that he, too, was part of this cruel plot. I found him in the stables. He took one look at my face and, tossing the curry comb he had been using to a groom, drew me outside. “Why, Lucy, what troubles you?” he asked with apparent concern. I had a feeling he already knew.
“My aunt has told me of her plan—your plan—to marry me to Tynan,” I said, fighting to get my trembling lower lip under control.
“Demelza can be tactless,” he said soothingly. “But, you must admit, Lucy, it makes sense.”
“How?” I demanded. “I don’t love Tynan and he doesn’t love me! What sort of future would we have, given his dreadful affliction? I would have a husband who needs constant care and he would have a wife who can only offer him her pity!”
“What else does the future hold for you, Lucy? Be practical. Do you want to spend the rest of your life as the poor relation or the paid companion? This way you would have a level of independence—you would be mistress of your own home.”
I knew then how wrong I had been. I drew in a great, whooshing breath. “I thought that we…that you and I—”
“I cannot marry you! I wish to God I could, but—”
“It is not what you brought me here for,” I finished the sentence for him, my voice sad. “Not part of what you have planned.”
He watched my face warily. “It sounds so cold when you say it like that. But, yes! Oh, I knew the moment I saw you that I wanted you. Dear God, you will never know how much. I curse myself for getting close to you, knowing how hard it will be to give you to him, Lucy. But you must see, you must know, that I cannot claim you for my own, not while there is a chance that Tynan could do so and that, together, you might save our name. Can’t you understand? Once his madness is known, the Jago line is dead!”
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