Tess laughed. ‘I don’t think it was quite that long ago, but you’re right, I have no idea how it would have worked. Never mind, it will be pretty even if it’s only filled with water that doesn’t go anywhere.’
Josh looked around the immediate area. ‘These paving stones will need to be taken up and reset,’ he said. ‘The grass has pushed them all out of place and someone could trip on them and fall.’
‘Hmm, yes, but I think that will have to wait. I’d like to get some of these hedges trimmed first. They’re so out of control, the path might be underneath them too.’
‘Good point. Okay, let’s start here and see what we find. How high do you think they should be?’
‘Not sure. How about knee-height to begin with? Then maybe they can be trimmed down more later. We don’t want to kill them off completely.’
They both had shears and for the next hour or so, the only sounds to be heard were the snipping and sliding of metal on metal as they hacked away at the box and pulled out the weeds in between. An intricate pattern began to emerge and the more they worked, the easier it became to see what the pattern should be.
‘Hell, this is killing my back.’ Josh straightened up and stretched his arms over his head.
Tess followed suit and pushed both hands into the small of her back as she arched it. ‘Yes, it’s a real pain, isn’t it? Let’s leave it for now. I think we’ve done enough for one day. It must be lunchtime anyway.’ Vincent immediately raised his head from where it had been resting on his paws and looked interested. Tess laughed. ‘Vince certainly thinks so anyway. He knows that word.’
‘I’m sure he’d eat any time of day, given the chance, but you’re right. Let’s put everything away and go check on Bryn.’
As they gathered up the tools and trundled the wheelbarrow over to the compost heap with all the cuttings, Josh tried not to remember the sight of Tess’s chest in a tight strappy top as she’d arched backwards to stretch her muscles. Nor her bum in a pair of minuscule jeans shorts and the endless legs beneath. She had a fabulous figure and he could totally see why her late husband had fallen for her, even though according to Bryn she hadn’t been in his league. Who cared these days? Only people like Rosie, he’d bet.
‘Not upper-class enough for the toffs his lordship was friendly with,’ Bryn had told him again the other day when speaking about Tess. ‘I think that’s why she spent a lot of time with me yere in the garden, like. They didn’t exactly make her feel welcome, his friends and family. Except the boy, of course. Nice lad, that Louis.’
Josh thought this was ridiculous. A person should be judged on merit, not on what family they’d been born into. But he supposed if your ancestors had owned a place like this for a thousand years, maybe you got some strange ideas instilled in you from birth. Good thing he hadn’t grown up here.
Tess was beautiful in every way though, as far as he could see. Apart from the obvious, she was kind and gentle, not at all up herself and very fair, as witness her desire for him to think a bit more carefully before making up his mind about this place rather than mourning the fact that she had to leave it herself. He didn’t think she had an avaricious bone in her body and seemed not to have aspired to being a titled lady at all. And she was nice to old people like Bryn, as well as animals – Vince had taken to her straight away.
He shook his head. If he wasn’t careful, he might fall for her and then he’d be stuck again. Trapped, like when he was married to Isla. That wasn’t what he wanted. In fact, he didn’t know what he wanted. Not yet. He was still thinking about it.
As they left the knot garden, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced back towards the fountain. Yet another bloody shadow, this one a lady sitting on a small stone bench which was still covered in ivy and brambles. Josh smiled to himself – of course, that wouldn’t bother a spirit. From what he could see, the woman was wearing wide skirts and a bodice with puffy sleeves down to the elbows. A crinoline? He wasn’t an expert on women’s fashion, but had a feeling the dress was much older than the Victorian era.
He watched as her face lifted and although he couldn’t see her expression, he thought she was waiting for someone. A secret lover? Was this an assignation gone wrong? Josh had no way of knowing, but he hoped whoever it was had come to her and she wasn’t still waiting, hundreds of years later. That would be too sad for words.
‘Josh, are you coming?’ Tess’s voice and a bark from Vincent made the shadow fade.
‘What? Yeah, I’m right with you.’
He shook his head. This place was too full of shadowy souls for his liking, but at the same time he was intrigued. If only there was some way of finding out why they were still hanging around. He wished he’d asked his grandmother, but he never had and now it was too late.
Maybe he could do some experiments on his own though, try to open his mind more and see if that would tap into the thoughts left behind by those shadows? But did he really want to know? He needed to think it over before doing something he might regret. And he would have to be alone.
Tess went back outside after lunch, Vince happy to follow in her wake, but without Josh’s help the work on the knot garden seemed boring. He’d gone back to Bryn’s cottage, saying he’d probably take the old man out for a pub lunch to get him away from the garden for a while.
‘You’re welcome to come with us,’ he’d added, but Tess declined. She didn’t like going to the Merrick Arms; everyone always stared at her so.
‘Maybe we should leave this for another day,’ she said to Vince now. ‘I’m running out of energy and it’s too hot. Although you’re okay, lying there in the shade.’
He tilted his head at her as if he was trying to understand the words, but when she perched on the edge of the fountain he put his head down on his paws and closed his eyes. Tess trailed her hand in the shallow water. It was cool, despite the strong sunlight, and she wondered if the stone the structure was made out of kept it that way. As she stared at the little waves her fingers were stirring up, she had that odd sensation of having the water rise up towards her again. She recognised it from her visit to Raglan Castle and quickly averted her gaze.
‘No!’ She’d fainted that time and been dizzy for a while, not an experience she wanted to repeat. But that was when that man had appeared, the one who’d thought her suicidal. Or rather, she’d thought he had appeared, but of course it wasn’t real.
She began to wonder – she’d had so many strange dreams lately and they had all started after that day at the castle. Was her mind somehow trying to connect her to a different time? Was that possible? Thinking about it further, most of her hallucinations – for want of a better word – had come in connection with her looking at water. Did it have a calming effect on her brain, freeing it to receive messages from a bygone era? Perhaps it was a bit like meditation?
It seemed too crazy for words.
There was only one way to find out. She’d have to deliberately recreate the right condition for her thoughts to free themselves. She had to be brave. And why not now? She was all alone, no one would disturb her or think her mad.
‘No, this is stupid.’ Tess closed her eyes. She hadn’t even believed in ghosts until she’d seen that shimmering haze in her room. But she had seen it. And heard it – him? – say ‘cariad’. She had to do this, had to find out if it was just her imagination.
She took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm her heartbeat. Then, staring intently at the water, she stuck her hand back in and began to swirl it slowly with a circling motion. Tiny wavelets appeared, creating a series of vortexes. Perfect circles, rippling outwards. Pretty. At first, nothing happened, but then she experienced a strange sensation of weightlessness, of falling towards the water at the same time as it rose to meet her. And then the voices and images came …
Chapter Sixteen
Raglan Castle, 4th June 1646
‘Colonel Morgan had the temerity to send a summons for immediate surrender yesterday. As if we would
give up that easily!’
Rhys saw Arabella hide a smile at the chaplain’s words as if she very much doubted he’d be doing any fighting. She had a point.
‘Lord Worcester refused, of course?’ Mrs Watson asked, but it was a rhetorical question really. They all knew the marquis – and Rhys was beginning to feel he did too, although by hearsay only – and once his mind was made up, nothing moved him.
‘Of course. Said he’s not giving up the castle without permission from the king.’
A stalling tactic, it had to be. Lord Worcester was a wily old man and Rhys was sure both he and Colonel Morgan were well aware there was no chance of consulting His Majesty now that he was a prisoner of the Scots. The Colonel must be fuming. Well, it served him right.
‘So what are we doing?’ Mrs Watson, ever practical, sounded as though she wanted action rather than words. Rhys silently agreed and he could tell Arabella did too by the way she nodded slightly.
He was very aware of her sitting next to him and had noticed her glance his way every now and then. Really, he ought not to be here – he should be eating with the other men over in the Stone Court – but after his encounter with Arabella the day before he’d felt the need to spend more time with her. He had to keep her under observation, or so he told himself. Nothing to do with the fact that he just wanted to be near her.
‘Making sallies, what else?’ the chaplain was saying now. ‘We can’t let them get too close.’
Mrs Watson took a sip of her wine, her demeanour as calm as always. Not much appeared to ruffle her, a trait which Rhys admired. Some ladies could be every bit as formidable and courageous as men, this war had taught him that, if nothing else. ‘I was told there are over a thousand men encamped outside. In fact, I’ve been hearing them all day.’ The housekeeper’s mouth turned into a sour grimace. ‘Their foul language is beyond belief.’
‘More like fifteen hundred, I’d say, and, yes, they are very coarse,’ the chaplain agreed. ‘We must close our ears to such filthy speech. I’m sure they are doing it deliberately in order to goad us.’
As outraged comments broke out around them, Arabella murmured, ‘I’ve heard them too. Foul they most definitely are.’ She sounded very offended.
As well she might be, Rhys thought. The enemy soldiers had been shouting curses and vile epithets such as ‘Royalist whores’ and worse, their jibes very obviously targeted at the women of the castle.
‘The chaplain is right,’ Rhys whispered back, while others round the table weighed in with their opinions. ‘They are just trying to intimidate the inhabitants and it’s best to ignore their taunts. They want you to care, to take it to heart. It’s part of the strategy. Don’t let them succeed.’
‘Easier said than done,’ Arabella retorted, then sighed. ‘I still find it difficult to believe that the castle can withstand a siege, but it gives me some hope that his lordship was so adamant in his refusals. Surely he wouldn’t be unless he thought there was some chance we could prevail? And you did say the castle garrison could overpower the enemy if we acted swiftly, did you not?’
‘I did.’ Rhys didn’t want to share his misgivings with her. Far better to allow her some hope for now, even though he was under no illusions. They were fighting a losing battle, he’d bet his last groat on it.
She dared a question to the chaplain, who was known to be a kind man. ‘Have the sallies begun, sir? There was a lot of commotion outside earlier.’
‘Indeed. I believe our men fought Colonel Morgan himself, is that not so, Sir Rhys?’ Rhys nodded, but didn’t elaborate further, so the chaplain continued, ‘At least the man has the bravery to lead his men from the front rather than cowering behind them. I suppose we must give him his due.’
Mrs Watson snorted, as if she’d rather not give anyone in the enemy camp their due. ‘There were casualties, were there not?’ At the chaplain’s nod, she continued. ‘We should set up a makeshift infirmary somewhere. I will speak to her ladyship about it. Perhaps in the Great Hall?’
‘That sounds eminently sensible.’
‘I’d be happy to be of assistance,’ Arabella put in, as some of the other ladies offered their help.
Rhys thought it an excellent idea and guessed that having something to do of a practical nature would help Arabella and the others keep the fear at bay. Although they were trying not to show it, they had to be terrified, having now heard the sounds of battle and seen the huge number of men encamped outside. The siege was no longer something they were preparing for – it was upon them and very real.
Arabella glanced at him and sent him a determined little smile. ‘I … I pray we won’t see you in there, Sir Rhys. I mean, that you’re not one of the wounded.’
‘Thank you, you may be sure I’ll be praying for the same.’ He smiled back and gave her hand a quick squeeze under the table to reassure her. ‘Trust me, I’ll try to keep out of harm’s way.’
‘See that you do.’
But he could be wounded. In fact, it was more than likely he would be either hurt or killed. He saw Arabella swallow hard and wondered for the thousandth time how things had come to this pass. Why was this happening to them? Why couldn’t everyone just have lived in peace with their neighbours and the king and Parliament have seen reason? It all seemed so senseless and unnecessary.
He looked round the table and saw the fear in the other ladies’ eyes too. They were all helpless, trapped inside the thick walls, which had been bombarded throughout the day. So far the damage was slight, but for how long could the ancient stones withstand the enemy’s ordnance?
They would have to wait and see.
‘We will all take turns,’ Mrs Watson decreed, breaking the fraught silence that had descended upon the table. ‘I’m sure every woman will be needed and it’s the least we can do to support the men.’
‘Indeed, but let us pray for deliverance,’ the chaplain said and everyone, whether Papist or not, willingly bent their heads. They needed God’s help as never before.
Merrick Court, 4th June 2016
Tess was brought back to the present with a thump, literally, as she felt her bottom hitting the ground. When she opened her eyes, squinting in the sunlight, she found that she was sitting on the ground next to the fountain, the rim digging into the small of her back. She must have fallen off.
‘Ouch.’ As Vince came over to lick her chin, probably in the belief that he was being helpful, she rubbed at her backside, but she didn’t really care about any possible bruises. They faded into insignificance compared to what had just happened.
‘It worked, Vince! It really worked!’ She caressed his ears and he gave a short bark of joy, although he obviously had no idea why she was excited.
She could hardly believe it, but this time the scenes she had witnessed – no taken part in, as she’d been in the mind of someone called Mistress Dauncey – had been much clearer. Although she’d still experienced the fish tank effect, she’d heard snatches of conversation, smelled the beeswax of the furniture, the leather of Rhys’s jerkin, the scent of him … No, Sir Rhys, he’d said, although she hadn’t caught the rest of his name. It was magical.
And frightening.
She shivered as she remembered the sight of the New Model Army, arriving outside the walls of Raglan Castle. That made it clear which year she’d gone back to – 1646, the time of the final siege. Exactly three hundred and seventy years ago. Spooky. Tess had read a few snippets about it on the signs at Raglan, but she hadn’t really paid attention. She’d need to go back again, find out more.
The scene had changed to a more intimate one, a dinner of some sort, and she’d felt the fear around the table, but also the determination. Whoever those people were, it was clear they were prepared to stand up for what they believed in. She admired such courage.
There had to be some way of connecting what she was experiencing with real events. If only she had more details, proper facts … but it was all so hazy.
She’d have to experiment again, but not t
oday. It was too much to take in.
The Merrick Arms, 4th June 2016
‘Have you met Fred Williams? He’s up at the Home Farm, as I told you. Fred, this yere’s his new lordship.’
Josh stuck out his hand. ‘No, Josh Owens,’ he said with a smile. ‘I don’t hold with all that title stuff. Pleased to meet you, Mr Williams.’
He’d been to the bar and came back to find Bryn in conversation with a man who looked to be in his late sixties or early seventies. He had the kind of ruddy complexion you only get from spending most of your life outdoors in all weathers. And his clothing – jeans, checked shirt and mud-spattered wellies – told the same story.
‘Oh, Fred’ll do then. We’re neighbours after all and I’ve known the family up at the Court all my life.’ The man cracked a smile.
‘I understand the Home Farm used to belong to Merrick Court.’ Josh had by now walked the boundaries of his own land and he’d seen the old farmhouse in the distance.
‘Yes, but I own it now, like. One of my ancestors was allowed to buy the Home Farm when the then Lord Merrick was a bit short of funds.’ Fred grinned. ‘Lucky for us, you might say. Got it for a good price.’
‘Yeah, real lucky.’ Josh smiled back.
Fred’s expression turned grim. ‘Problem is, my son, Andrew, he doesn’t want to be a farmer, so I’ll have to give it up soon. Can’t carry on by myself for much longer and there’s not much point, is there? The wife wants us to go and live by the sea, retire like, and I’m starting to see the appeal myself so I’ve put the property on the market.’
‘Already?’ Bryn looked startled.
‘Yes, but who knows? There mightn’t be anyone wanting a farm these days. Anyway, you’ll not be getting rid of me completely. My brother-in-law and his wife live in the next village, remember? We’ll visit them regular, I’m sure.’
The Velvet Cloak of Moonlight Page 15