The Dowager leant back a little against her pillows.
“See to it, see to it,” she said testily and then to her son as he moved across the room, “remember what I have said, Justin – that man is to go.”
“I doubt if I have the power to compel him to do anything he does not want to do,” Lord Lynche said easily and then, as he saw the darkness on his mother’s face, he added quickly, “all right. Mama, I will do my best.”
He stood aside to let Carina precede him through the door and then followed her, leaving Mrs. Barnstaple behind.
“I am sorry you did not enjoy luncheon downstairs,” he said and Carina guessed that he had seen through her subterfuge to make Dipa the excuse for other non-appearances.
“No,” she answered, “I disliked it.”
“Just as you dislike Sir Percy,” Lord Lynche said, making it more of a statement than a question.
“Your mother is right,” Carina answered and added indiscreetly, “I am sure he is a bad man.”
“I suspect that what you say is correct,” Lord Lynche replied, “but bad men are better company than good when one wants to forget.”
For a moment Carina felt sorry for him and then she remembered that what he wanted to forget was his wife, dying alone in a London boarding house and his child whose appearance showed only his Eastern blood and none of his English.
The sympathy that she had felt for a moment for anyone who might be in trouble faded and she said in a hard voice,
“Perhaps some things are better remembered.”
They had reached the stairway that led up to the nurseries and, as Carina turned, Lord Lynche put out a hand as if to stop her.
She looked round at him, realised that they were alone and that Mrs. Barnstaple, if she had followed them from the Dowager’s room, had obviously gone in search of the lady’s maid.
“I should like to tell you many things,” Lord Lynche said, “but that is something I cannot do. As it is, I can only ask you not to judge me too harshly.”
Carina looked at him in surprise and then remembered his laughter the night before when he had seen Dipa’s Birth Certificate and his own Marriage Certificate.
“I would not presume to sit in judgment on you, Lord Lynche,” she said quietly, “I leave that to your – conscience.”
As she turned and walked quickly up the stairs without looking back, she sensed that he stood still for some seconds gazing after her before he turned and walked away.
Upstairs Carina found Dipa still asleep and, after a short delay. Mrs. Barnstaple came up to say that Miss Matthews was looking for the thermometer, but they had decided that when she brought it they would not wake the child as he seemed to be sleeping peacefully.
“He’ll find the climate a bit trying after the heat in his own country,” Mrs. Barnstaple said. “You will have to look out for chills, croup and all sorts of ailments during the winter. This place can be as cold as charity. I can’t really understand them wanting the child to come here of all places.”
“The heat was – too much for him,” Carina said quickly.
“That seems queer, considering he ought to be used to it,” Mrs. Barnstaple remarked.
“I know,” Carina agreed, “but that is what I was told and I expect, seeing who he is, they had the best doctors.”
“I am sure they did,” Mrs. Barnstaple smiled. “Money is no object to them. Oh well, it’s a pity we can’t say the same, and especially his Lordship if it comes to that.”
It was obvious that Mrs. Barnstaple was going to be indiscreet and confide in her. Carina wished that she could prevent it but she knew that it would only hurt the elderly woman who had shown her nothing but kindness since her arrival.
“Take his Lordship now – ” Mrs. Barnstaple was obviously bursting to tell what she knew to someone. “ – Mr. Newman told me in confidence that his Lordship has lost thousands of pounds every night since that Sir Percy Rockley has been here.”
“But why does Lord Lynche gamble for such high stakes?” Carina asked. “He does not look the gambling type – not like the other guests in the house.”
“If you ask me they are mostly Sir Percy’s friends,” Mrs. Barnstaple said scornfully. “I never thought Mr. Justin would turn out like this. Such a sweet little boy he was and one of the most attractive young men you could imagine when he was at Eton.”
“What changed him?” Carina enquired.
She did not mean to be drawn into this discussion, yet somehow she could not help herself.
“It was after Mr. Giles died,” Mrs. Barnstaple replied. “I don’t think Mr. Justin ever wanted to be the heir.”
“He had an elder brother?” Carina asked in surprise.
Mrs. Barnstaple nodded.
“Yes, indeed, Mr. Giles was five years older and her Ladyship really doted on him. She went a little queer after they told us he was dead. She had always thought of nothing but The Castle and the pride of the family, but now it’s become a kind of obsession with her. Sometimes – ” Mrs. Barnstaple’s voice dropped, “ – I think she is a little deranged about it all.”
“Oh – ” Carina did not really know what to say.
“That’s why she can never stand for his Lordship losing money at cards. She does not look upon it as his money, it belongs to the family. Everything here belongs to the family, the name must be carried on. Sometimes she has talked to me for hours of what it means to be a Lynche and of their place in history.”
Mrs. Barnstaple paused and then added,
“You would think at times that she was talking about the Royal Family or even setting the Lynches up as some kind of Gods to be worshipped by lesser folk like us.”
Carina said nothing because she felt that there was nothing she could say, except perhaps to ask Mrs. Barnstaple not to burden her with these confidences.
But the housekeeper had really got going now that she had a listener.
“You see, her Ladyship was a Lynche too,” she said, “a second cousin of his Lordship.”
“Did Mr. Giles, or whatever you called him, come into the title after his father was dead?” Carina enquired.
“Oh no,” Mrs. Barnstaple answered. “Mr. Giles was abroad when he was killed. I don’t know how it happened, I never heard exactly. It was an accident, so her Ladyship said.”
Mrs. Barnstaple sighed reminiscently.
“When his Lordship died two months later,” she went on, “a terrible shock it was to her, you can understand that. It was then that her Ladyship took to her bed and said she was not coming down again. Not that it makes much difference as she knows everything that goes on.”
“How does she know everything?” Carina enquired.
“It’s not only what she is told,” Mrs. Barnstaple said. “We all do our share of telling her things. She would sack us all tomorrow if she thought that we were keeping anything from her.”
Mrs. Barnstaple looked over her shoulder, although there was no one there.
“It’s almost as if she had an instinct for knowing what we don’t tell her,” she continued in a low voice. “I’ve often gone up to her bedroom to relate something I thought she ought to know and, as I’ve gone into the room she has asked me a question that has shown me that she guessed what I was about to tell her.”
Carina shivered.
“It sounds uncanny to me,” she said.
“That’s the right word!” Mrs. Barnstaple exclaimed. “You mark my words, Miss Warner, if you live here long enough, you’ll find her Ladyship is uncanny.”
Mrs. Barnstaple’s keys clinked at her waist as if they agreed with the profundity of her statement. Then she turned towards the door as the lady’s maid came in carrying the thermometer.
“Excuse me, Miss Warner,” Miss Matthews said politely, “but I’ve brought Mrs. Barnstaple her thermometer.”
She handed it to Mrs. Barnstaple and said,
“I must apologise for keepin’ it so long, but her Ladyship put it in the drawer beside her b
ed and I forgot all about it until you asked for it.”
“Thank you, Miss Matthews,” Mrs. Barnstaple said, accepting both the thermometer and the apology with dignity. “The child is asleep so we think it would be best not to wake him.”
“No, indeed,” Miss Matthews said. “He’s a dear little boy, isn’t he? Have you ever met the King, Miss Warner?”
“No, never,” Carina answered, thankful that she could speak the truth.
“I’ve heard of his grandfather, of course, from her Ladyship, but I’ve always imagined him to be a somewhat sinister character,” Miss Matthews said.
“Well, he’s not likely to come here,” Mrs. Barnstaple retorted, “and a good thing too. We have quite enough sinister people in the house as it is.”
“I know who you be speakin’ about,” Miss Matthews said with a little wrinkle of her nose, “and I agree with you completely, Mrs. Barnstaple.”
“I thought you would,” Mrs. Barnstaple replied and Carina realised with amusement that this by-play was for her benefit – a warning from two well-meaning women who were too careful of the hierarchy that existed in the servants’ hall to come into the open and tell her exactly what they were thinking.
Mrs. Barnstaple suddenly remembered her duties.
“It’s time your tea was upstairs, Miss Warner,” she said. “If it isn’t, I’ll speak really sharply to that Emily. She’s always late and, if I’ve spoken to her once, I’ve spoken to her a dozen times. If this goes on, she will have to go and without a reference.”
“Oh, no, Mrs. Barnstaple,” Carina cried, “don’t do that. The poor girl might not get another post unless you speak well of her and a few minutes really does not make all that difference one way or the other.”
“In a house of this size,” Mrs. Barnstaple corrected, “I assure you that things have to run just like clockwork or there’d be chaos.”
She swept from the room and Matthews, with a somewhat apologetic smile, followed after her.
As the door shut behind them, Carina sat down in a chair. At last she was alone – at last she had a chance to think of that strange conversation with Lord Lynche and the even stranger apparition of a valet who had disappeared apparently into thin air! And Lord Lynche had undoubtedly been annoyed to see her on that staircase.
‘There is something going on here and I would love to know what it is,’ she thought with a little glint of mischief in her eyes. ‘I believe I have stumbled on another of their secrets, one of the many that are hidden from the world.’
It would be fun to be able to blackmail Lord Lynche a little, she thought to herself, and to make him do as she wanted. Perhaps she could force him to be kind to his discarded wife or even to bury her with decency.
Then she was shocked at her thoughts. What would her mother have said at her presuming to interfere with other people’s lives? And Nanny would be even more pointed in her remarks.
“Curiosity killed the cat,” she would say. Carina could hear her saying those exact words when as a child she had been curious about so much that no one would explain.
And yet however hard she tried to pretend that she must behave in a restrained and respectable manner, she could not help the question that turned over and over in her mind – where had the valet disappeared to and why?
Dipa awoke about five o’clock, but would not eat any tea. He said he had a pain in his head and after drinking a very little hot milk, turned over and went to sleep again.
The evening passed slowly. Carina wished that she had had the sense to ask if she might borrow a book from the library. She had not seen that there was one, but she knew that every house of this size usually had a magnificent library, added to by every successive generation.
There were a few children’s books in the nursery and she glanced at them, remembering one or two from her childhood but they were mostly books for boys.
After a while, she laid them aside and, looking through the luggage that the housemaid had unpacked, found a dress of her mother’s that she decided to alter. She had it spread out on a table in front of her, when a footman opened the door and asked if she would go downstairs to the library, as his Lordship wished to speak to her.
“How funny!” Carina exclaimed. “I was just wondering if there was a library in The Castle.”
“It opens off the big hall,” the footman replied. He was an apple-cheeked young man with a broad Gloucestershire accent.
“Are there lots of books in it?” Carina enquired, thinking that during the winter she might improve her mind by reading. There certainly was not going to be much else to do.
“Thousands and thousands of ’em,” the footman replied. “I’ve often thought as ’ow I’d have liked to read ’em myself.”
“Can you read?” Carina asked, guessing from the wistful tone of his voice that he was illiterate.
“Oh, I learned a few words at school,” the footman answered, “but I wasn’t there for very long. I got the offer of goin’ as a page to a gentleman in London and then I came back ’ere as pantry boy and worked my way up. I’m fourth footman now.”
“Are you really?” Carina exclaimed with what she hoped was sufficient appreciation in her tone.
“It’s not a bad job,” the footman said confidingly. “Mr. Newman’s a bit on the ’ard side, but ’e’s just, I’ll say that for ’im.”
“So you like it on the whole?” Carina questioned.
“It’s all right,” the footman admitted almost reluctantly, as if he hated to give praise and would rather have recounted a list of grievances.
“It must be cold here in the winter,” Carina said.
“You should try our quarters. They are up near the roof,” the footman told her with a grin. “They’re like a furnace in summer and the North Pole in winter. It’s really better to be the one who sleeps in the pantry, ’e ’as a fire after everyone’s gone to bed.”
Carina thought with a sudden sense of guilt that she had never until now wondered what discomforts the servants had endured in their private rooms in the attics in Claverly where they slept. She could not remember ever having been inside them.
Then she cheered herself up by feeling sure that her mother would have seen that the servants were comfortable, and if they had not been, Nanny would have carried tales to the right place because she could not bear to see anyone suffer, whoever it might be.
“How many members of the staff are there in The Castle?” Carina asked him as they proceeded down the great staircase that led to the inner hall.
“I’ve never thought of countin’,” he answered. “About twenty-five or thirty, I should say and, of course, there’s the visitin’ valets, ladies’ maids and private grooms.”
‘It seems a lot,’ Carina thought and remembered that her father had never kept more than two footmen, not even in the days when they had been rich and entertained a great deal at Claverly Court.
“A great place like this wants a lot of people to look after it,” the footman said simply.
The candles were lit in the outer hall and they threw into relief the high marble pillars and the Greek statues set in alcoves around the walls.
“Very beautiful,” Carina said aloud as she looked round her, speaking more to herself than to the footman.
“A bit chilly for my taste,” he said. “And I was never one to like all them naked figures with their fig leaves and what ’ave you. Me old Ma would ’ave ’ad a fit if she could ’ave seen ’em!”
Carina laughed, she could not help it.
“You’re all right, miss,” the footman said, with an impertinent twinkle in his eye. “Not like some of them snotty stuck-up Governesses.”
“Thank you,” Carina answered, amused by the compliment.
“I expect ’is Lordship will be ’ere by now,” the footman said, opening the high mahogany door.
Carina had a fleeting moment of wondering why Lord Lynche had sent for her to come to the library if he was not there himself, but then the door was open
and the footman was announcing her, apparently to an empty room.
“Miss Warner, my Lord,” he said and closed the door behind her.
Carina looked round.
It was a beautiful room with shelves of books rising from floor to ceiling, and there were curtains of deep red velvet to match the comfortable armchairs around the hearth.
Then, as she moved a little further into the room, a figure detached itself from the shadows at the far end.
A man came towards her, and she saw that it was not Lord Lynche as she had expected, but Sir Percy Rockley.
Chapter 6
Carina turned towards the door.
“I am sorry,” she murmured, “I thought Lord Lynche was here.”
“Wait!” The word was a command and not a request from Sir Percy. “I sent for you.”
“You?”
Carina could not help the ejaculation of surprise sounding rude.
“Yes, Miss Warner,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you and I had the feeling that you might make excuses if I made the request in my own name.”
There was a smile on Sir Percy’s thick lips and she hated the look in his eyes, feeling, as she always did, that he was mentally undressing her even while he talked platitudes.
“I am sorry if I appear impolite,” Carina said, “but Dipa will be wanting me. I only came because I understood that Lord Lynche had particularly requested me to do so.”
“Lord Lynche is fortunately out at the moment,” Sir Percy said, “and I want to have a talk with you.”
“That is impossible,” Carina replied hastily.
“Still running away?” he asked with his horrible smile.
And, although she knew he meant to taunt her, she could not help replying proudly.
“It is not a question of running away, Sir Percy. I am employed to look after a child and I have left him alone,”
“He will be all right for a few minutes,” Sir Percy answered. “Now come and sit down like a sensible girl and let me tell you why I want to see you,”
“I would rather stand,” Carina said uncertainly, feeling embarrassed by her own defiance and yet conscious that every nerve in her body was screaming out for her to run away and to run quickly.
The Fire of Love Page 9