“Cannot you fight?” she asked. “Isn’t there anything you can do?”
He looked down at her, his eyes dark with pain.
“Don’t you suppose I have been asking myself that all night?” he said. “Oh, Percy played the part of the gentleman admirably. ‘You will have an opportunity of getting your revenge tomorrow,’ he said as he left the table. ‘You will remember I am not leaving until Thursday.’”
Lord Lynche’s face was suddenly contorted.
“Damn him!” he shouted and his voice echoed round the room. “Damn him! With the smile on his face and the condescension in his voice! He knew he had sucked me dry! He knows, if we play tonight, which undoubtedly he will suggest, that I have nothing to play with except a few sovereigns in my pocket.”
“I am so sorry,” Carina said again quietly.
“This – this is what I mind losing more than anything,” Lord Lynche said, looking round the room. “The furniture belonged to my grandmother. She collected most of it when she was in France. She left it to me in her will and it never belonged to my brother or my mother. It is mine!”
“Then perhaps – ” Carina began, a sudden hope in the expression on her face.
But Lord Lynche realised what she was about to say and shook his head.
“We have lost it all,” he said. “The land that we own for as far as you can see on either side of The Castle, the land for which my forbears fought and died, and which I have thrown away in a drunken moment.”
“Don’t torture yourself,” Carina said. “No good can come of it. What is done is done. You have to look forward to the future.”
“It’s so easy to say!” Lord Lynche cried angrily.
“No, it’s not easy – not even to say it,” Carina said. “I had to do the same thing. I know how hard it is.”
“You?”
She realised that for the moment she had distracted his attention from himself.
“Yes,” she answered. “I had my whole life and everything that belonged to me crumble away, so that I have been left completely alone and with nothing. At one time I thought that I should die. But then I knew that I had to go on living and that therefore I must make the best of it.”
“You are brave,” he said gently. “Far braver than I.”
“No, you will be brave too once you have got over the shock. At first, everything seems overwhelming, dark and hopeless and then, somehow inexplicably, there comes a little light,”
He stood very still looking at her.
“Thank you,” he said quietly.
Carina looked up to meet his eyes and it seemed to her that, in that moment, something strange and almost magnetic passed between them.
She thought that she gave him strength and some of the agony went from his face.
She felt unexpectedly her whole being go out to help him.
She felt that she lifted him up and turned his face towards the stars.
It was so intense, so strong, the link that joined them, that Carina felt herself tremble.
Then Dipa’s voice broke the spell.
“Missie, Missie,” he was calling her and Carina turned towards the door.
The small boy came bursting into the room, his little feet clattering noisily over the parquet and the soft muted blues and pinks of the carpet.
He seized Carina by the hand.
“Come and see, come and see!” he said excitedly. “Pussy cats, lots and lots of pussy cats!”
“Yes, I will come and see them,” Carina said.
But already Dipa had turned and run off again obviously delighted with his find and having no patience to wait for her or for anyone else.
Carina turned back towards Lord Lynche, but the moment of closeness had gone. Now he was scowling, dark and rather awe-inspiring, out of the window again.
“Perhaps – we had best return,” Carina faltered.
Lord Lynche looked at her and then, almost irritably, replied,
“No! I cannot face it, not at the moment. Go, if you wish, but I shall stay here.”
Carina glanced at him, wondering how she would get Dipa back to The Castle. He could not be expected to sit in front of her on the horse. She decided to compromise so as not to trouble him.
“I will go and see what Dipa is up to,” she said quietly and slipped away from the room, leaving Lord Lynche alone.
She had some difficulty in finding the small boy. Every room that she looked into was empty – the library, the morning room, the large dining room with its exquisite Chippendale chairs and polished table.
And then, at length, she found him in the rafter-ceilinged kitchen, crouched on the floor beneath the table, bending over a basket in which lay a cat with six tiny new-born kittens.
“Pussies, lots and lots of pussies,” he said, as Carina stooped down to stroke the mother cat.
There was a bowl of milk beside the basket and Carina knew that someone must be looking after the cat, the same person, she guessed, who kept the house dusted so that it looked like a Sleeping Beauty’s Palace, ready for reoccupation at any moment.
The copper saucepans on the chimney-shelf and hanging from the wall were bright, the heavy table had been scrubbed white and the stove black-leaded by careful hands.
And yet, it was all so quiet and empty. Carina longed to see it filled with the bustle and noise of cooks and scullery maids, the oven doors opening to show the newly rising bread, the trays waiting with delicious food to be carried through to the dining room.
And to think that Sir Percy would have all this, as well as The Castle!
Carina felt her heart contract at the horror of it. And now, because she felt urgently that she must help Lord Lynche and be with him, she left Dipa in the kitchen and went back to the salon
Lord Lynche was standing with his arms leaning against the marble mantelpiece, staring into the empty grate.
“I thought you had gone,” he said.
“No,” Carina answered. “I did not like to leave you.”
His lips curved in a cynical smile.
“Were you afraid that I might blow my brains out?” he asked. “I assure you I do not have the courage for that.”
“I was wondering,” Carina said, “whether you had eaten any breakfast.”
“You don’t suppose I could eat?” Lord Lynche said, in what was almost a hostile manner.
“I think that is what you should do,” Carina answered. “My mother used to say that things are never quite so bad after one has had a meal. Surely there is someone here who could cook us something? “
Lord Lynche shook his head.
“The farmer’s wife comes in every day,” he said, “but she lives nearly a mile across the fields.”
“Very well,” Carina said, undaunted, “let’s find something for ourselves. Isn’t there a hen outside that would lay something as ordinary as an egg?”
“Damn you!” he exclaimed. “I suppose you are ordering me to go out and find one.”
“Why not?” Carina enquired. “You are not going to do any good by staying here and being miserable.”
He walked slowly and despondently ahead of her across the hall.
Then he stopped and looked up at the staircase.
“My great-grandfather ordered the Adam brothers to build this house,” he said. “He wanted it for his wife, when she should become a widow. When it was finished, Robert Adam said that it was the happiest house he had ever built, everything had gone right and everything had been completed on time without trouble or disagreements. I wonder what he would say at this moment?”
“Let us answer that question after breakfast,” Carina proposed.
She thought that Lord Lynche was going to say something fierce, but instead he bit back the words and let her walk ahead into the kitchen, where Dipa was still sitting under the table.
“Having made the suggestion of something to eat,” Carina said, “I am wondering now if it was not a very foolish thought. What is there likely to be here in an emp
ty house?”
She crossed the kitchen as she spoke and opened the door of the larder. It was low and cool with its flagged floor and long slate-topped shelves jutting out from the whitewashed walls.
Carina stared at them, thinking that she was dreaming and then she gave a cry of sheer astonishment.
“Look what we have here!”
Her voice drew Lord Lynche across the kitchen to stare over her shoulder through the open door.
There was every reason for her to be surprised, for on the shelves were great baskets of eggs, a dozen pats of butter and flat bowls filled with milk that had already turned to cream.
“Am I dreaming or are they really there?” Carina asked.
Just for a second Lord Lynche forgot his misery and then a smile came to his lips.
“It does appear as if you have rubbed Aladdin’s lamp,” he said. “But actually I remember now Mrs. Hobman asked me if she could use the larder during the week to store the produce that she takes to market on Saturdays. I believe that I am building her a new larder at the farm and it is not yet finished.”
“I am glad of that,” Carina said, and started to raid the larder.
She put some eggs, butter and milk on the kitchen table and then took off her riding hat and the coat of her habit.
As she rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, she realised that Lord Lynche was watching her and felt herself flush under the scrutiny of his gaze.
“I am sorry,” she murmured almost apologetically, “but it’s easier to cook without a coat.”
“I was thinking how practical you are,” he said. “Most women I know would not have the slightest idea how to boil a kettle of water, let alone make a meal of any sort.”
“I was brought up in the country,” Carina answered. “My mother never allowed me to be just a fine lady, sitting in the drawing room all day and doing nothing more strenuous than writing a letter.”
“That was right,” Lord Lynche remarked.
“I am prepared to accept the compliment,” Carina answered, breaking the eggs into a bowl. “It is something I am proud of because my mother taught me.”
“Who are you?” he asked unexpectedly and watched the abrupt way in which she turned from the table towards the stove.
“We have been talking so much,” she replied, “do you realise that we have not yet laid the fire. Will you and Dipa see if you can find some sticks? This is such a magical place that I am sure there will be some in the woodshed outside.”
Immediately Lord Lynche went from the kitchen, but not before Carina had noticed that he did not call Dipa or suggest that the little boy went with him.
Carina found some old newspapers in the cupboard under the stairs and there was also some kindling wood amongst them, so that by the time Lord Lynche came back, she had already lit the fire.
Lord Lynche brought her coal in an ancient rather battered scuttle.
Carina thought, with a little smile, that she dare not show that she knew that this was certainly the first time he had ever carried anything into a kitchen or, she suspected, had been in one.
It took some time to get the fire hot enough to cook the eggs and, when finally she took them straight from the saucepan onto the plates, she was relieved to see that Lord Lynche seemed calmer.
There was only milk to drink, but she knew by the colour of his face and the expression in his eyes that the horror of what had happened the night before was not quite as intense as it had been.
Dipa made conversation while they ate almost impossible because he was chattering all the time with a full mouth about the kittens, asking plaintively if he could have one of his very own.
“Not yet,” Carina replied. “They are not old enough to leave their mother. They would be unhappy and die without her and you would not like that, would you?”
It was hard to make Dipa understand, but having told him that they would come back the next day to see the cats again, he finally condescended to eat a little and drink the milk, although his one idea was to give it all to the cat.
Carina glanced at her watch as they finished.
“Do you realise that it is nearly noon?” she asked. “They will be missing you at The Castle.”
Lord Lynche pushed his plate away from him and put his hands, palm downwards, on the table.
“What am I to say to my mother?” he asked. “If I tell her the truth, it will kill her.”
“Perhaps she is stronger than we think,” Carina suggested a little helplessly.
“No, it will not kill her,” Lord Lynche said, as if he had not heard her and was following his own train of thought, “but I think she will kill me. How will she be able to face moving away from The Castle, going somewhere strange and being poor? She has always had everything. Do you realise what it will mean to her to have to give up her comfort, her servants and in fact the whole Kingdom that she has ruled over so effectively for over half a century?”
“I think that, instead of worrying about all these things,” Carina said, “we should go back now. You have to face her – you have to tell her.”
“No, I am not going to do that,” Lord Lynche said suddenly. “I am going to wait until I have seen my lawyer. I am going to hope against all hope that there is something left, some property not accounted for.”
“What time is he likely to arrive?” Carina asked.
“I don’t see how he can be here before dinner, if then,” Lord Lynche answered. “But in the meantime I have to behave as a gentleman should, keeping a stiff upper lip, pretending to those people who call themselves my friends that it does not matter. My God, if they only knew!”
“Is that why you asked Dipa and me to come with you this morning?” Carina asked. “Because in front of us you don’t have to pretend and we are the only people in The Castle who don’t come under the heading of being called your friends?”
She spoke without bitterness and he looked at her sombrely.
“You are clever,” he answered. “That is exactly why I did ask you. I had to tell someone what had happened and there was no one else.”
“I hope we have behaved adequately,” Carina said and now there was a little edge of irony in her voice.
“I did not mean that,” Lord Lynche said quickly. “You know I did not mean it. You have been amazingly kind. I could not have believed that anyone could be so understanding. You might have jeered and laughed at me and told me that it was my own fault, which indeed it is. You might have taken your revenge for the way I have treated you, but instead you have been – ”
He put out his hand towards her.
“– how shall I say it – an angel of mercy?”
“No,” she answered, “just a good housekeeper. And now, like a good housekeeper, I intend to wash up the things we have used.”
“Oh, there is no need to do that,” Lord Lynche said. “I will leave a note for Mrs. Hobman, telling her that we have used the kitchen and taken some of her market wares, otherwise she might think thieves have broken in.”
He took a card from his pocket and scribbled on it. Then he put it down on the table and laid a golden sovereign on top.
He saw Carina look at it and said,
“That will placate any grumbles she may have about extra work.”
Carina picked up her hat and coat and coaxed Dipa away from the cat and her kittens.
As they moved towards the door, Lord Lynche looked around the kitchen and said,
“It’s funny, I don’t think I ever realised how comfortable and, indeed, how comforting a kitchen can be.”
“I don’t suppose you have ever been in one before,” Carina said.
“That is where you are wrong,” he replied. “I used to come here as a child to see my grandmother. The cook always made me special gingerbread children with currants for eyes.
“Oh, I had those too,” Carina said with a little smile. “We must ask your chef to make some for Dipa.”
Even as she spoke, she realised that the chef would no lo
nger be at Lynche Castle and there would be no gingerbread children for Dipa.
She knew that the same thoughts had crossed Lord Lynche’s mind and she felt annoyed with herself for having been so tactless.
Impulsively and without thinking she put out her hand and laid it on his arm.
“Don’t be so unhappy,” she urged. “I feel somehow that something will happen to make it all right and things will not be as bad as you think.”
He put his hand over hers and she felt the hard strength of his fingers.
“Whatever happens,” he said and there was a tone in his voice that she had not heard before, “I shall never forget how kind you have been to me.”
Again it seemed to Carina that there was that strange link between them, a magnetism she could feel pulsating from his fingers to hers.
And then, because she was shy and embarrassed at having touched him, she drew her hand away and hurried along the passage, forcing herself to listen to what Dipa was saying and to answer him coherently.
They rode back to The Castle almost in silence.
It seemed to Carina that they were leaving behind an enchantment of peace and happiness and going forward into the tumult and terror of battle.
The sun was shining, but The Castle looked grey and cheerless. There was no wind and the flag on the turret hung limp and lifeless.
Carina remembered the night she had arrived and how the shuttered windows had given her no welcome and seemed to repel her.
Now it seemed to her that The Castle stood there defiant, almost as if it hated the encroaching beauty around it.
She felt herself shiver as they entered the hall.
Newman took Lord Lynche’s hat, whip and gloves.
Then as Carina turned towards the stairs, Lord Lynche gave her a small bow.
“Thank you, Miss Warner,” he said.
There was none of the warmth in his voice with which he had thanked her in the kitchen. Carina felt as if they had slipped back into their correct roles and now she was only the Governess whose place was upstairs.
“Will you be down for luncheon, miss?”
Newman’s voice arrested her as she put her foot on the stairs.
“No – no thank you, Carina answered. “We have already had something to eat. The Prince and I will require nothing more.”
The Fire of Love Page 14