A Castle of Dreams (11 page)

She could not remember when she had last been so happy and at the same time so fearful of losing all she held so dear.

Bolster walked very slowly, but it was still far too fast for Viola.

Eventually the little cart reached the village just as it began to pour with rain and the Duke guided them to the doorway of a barn close to the last few cottages.

A small boy appeared and ran out to take the reins.

The Duke's hands were warm on Viola's waist as he helped her down from the cart.

For a short moment he held her in his arms, then, reluctantly, he let her go.

Viola felt the ground beneath the thin satin dancing shoes she had borrowed from Meg but wondered if her legs would support her.

How could she bear to leave here?

Life was so unfair.

If only she was still a poor girl with an absent father and no prospects!

Then perhaps she could have hoped that the Duke might one day return her feelings.

He offered Viola his arm and together they entered the barn.

The warmth and the noise that suddenly surrounded them was a pleasant change from the damp rainy evening outside.

Glowing lanterns swung from the rafters with the movement sending the dancers' shadows spiralling around the walls.

At the side of the barn, on a platform made of straw bales, an elderly man was standing and playing a fiddle, his foot beating time to the music.

And in a distant corner a younger man was tuning a set of bagpipes.

The music was bright and cheerful and in the centre of the barn several couples were dancing vigorously with the men's kilts swinging, the women in their best dresses, skipping and laughing while the music told them to change direction, swing their partners and parade around the room.

All was noise and excitement.

Viola found herself grasping the Duke's arm.

“Oh, how lovely!” she exclaimed.

The Duke nodded his head, his dark eyes gleaming with pleasure at her spontaneous delight.

“I so hoped that you would enjoy the sight.  Now, I suggest that you leave your wrap over there on yon chair and dance with me!”

“But I don't know the steps.”

The Duke laughed, his usually stern face relaxing.

For a second or two, Viola could see what he must have looked like when he was just a young boy, visiting his grandfather, running wild and free across the heather with his friends from the fishing village.

He would have had no cares and no worries.

It was a far cry from then to the Duke of Glentorran who was in danger of losing his beloved Castle and estate.

“You will soon learn them.  Here – take my hand!  Will you be trusting me, Viola?”

“Oh, always!” she gasped and within seconds found herself dancing in the middle of the barn.

Breathlessly she skipped along and ran, giggling as the other women made sure that she was in the right place at the right time.

Then, when she had mastered the simple steps, she gave herself up to the sheer joy of dancing with the Duke, of feeling his hand strong and warm on hers, admiring the breadth of his shoulders under the old green jacket he was wearing.

The Duke was whooping with much excitement as the men spun their ladies into the middle of the ring, then, driven onwards by the insistent rhythm of the fiddle, leapt after them to wrap their arms round slender waists and lead them once more to the end of the dance.

He gazed down into Viola's flushed face.

She was looking breathtakingly beautiful, her blue eyes were sparkling with her golden hair flowing free from its ribbons and cascading down over her shoulders.

The Duke recognised that he no longer cared that all he could offer her was a poverty-stricken estate and a Castle that was close to ruin.

He wanted to marry Lady Viola Northcombe and he was almost certain that she returned at least some of his feelings.

*

Back at Glentorran Castle, David was roaming the top floors of the vast building, exploring the dusty deserted rooms that had once housed many servants.

Now closed up and neglected the top floors of the Castle were a rabbit warren of dark attics, hidden stairways and forgotten windows.

“David!  What are you doing here?  Mrs. Livesey told me where you were and I was concerned.  You are still not fully recovered from your fever, you know.  You could have felt faint climbing all these stairs.”

Meg stood in the doorway of one of the great attics, looking at him with affection in her dark eyes.

David now pushed back his hair from his forehead, leaving a black streak of dust across his face.

“Meg!  I am sorry.  I had no intention of worrying anyone.  I began exploring and I am only just beginning to realise that Glentorran Castle is such a vast and wonderful place.”

Meg laughed.

“Aye, that is very true.  And these old attics hold so much of our illustrious history.  Generations of Glentorrans have stored their unwanted possessions up here.”

David picked up a hideous looking vase from an old rickety table.

“To be frank, Meg, I cannot imagine anyone ever wanting to possess something as ugly as this!”

The Scottish girl laughed again.

“This attic was where my grandfather stored all the items that members of the family brought back from their travels abroad.  I think that vase came from Egypt.”

David examined it carefully.

“Why, it might be some ancient object and worth a fortune that would help your brother save the estate.”

She sighed and reached out her hand to run a slim finger through the grime covering the porcelain.

“No, I'm afraid things like that only happen in story books, David.  Look, over here in this cupboard are several tatty oil paintings from Italy.  In a novel you would look at them and then tell me that they are worth thousands and thousands of guineas.  But this is not a novel – this is
real
life and we are going to lose Glentorran!”

David then put down the vase and without thinking, reached to take her in his arms.

He could not bear to see this wonderful girl with all those tears on her cheeks and such sadness and despair in her eyes.

“Meg, my darling Meg.  Please don't cry!  Oh, Meg, I know you have not known me for very long, but I must tell you that I love you.  I don't expect you to love me back, but at least let me take care of you.”

He bent his head to her and gently kissed her lips.

To his total amazement she did not pull away, but wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kisses.

“Oh, David.  I love you, too.  I think I have loved you from the very moment you rescued me from my hiding place behind that plant at the Brent's ball!”

“Will you marry me, sweet Meg?”

“Oh, yes, David. 
Yes
!”

Tenderly he bent his head to kiss her again, then he realised she was pulling away from him.

“This is nonsense!  How can we marry?  You are in no position to take on a wife and I have no dowry to bring you.”

David pulled her back into his arms and tightened his hold on her slim form.

“Listen to me, Meg,” he replied.  “Don't despair. Everything will be all right, I do promise you.  Believe me, come tomorrow night, I will be able to tell you something that will lighten your heart completely and mean that we will always be together!”

*

At the ceilidh the tune from the fiddle ceased with a loud flourish of notes, the dancers laughed and clapped and made their way to the side of the barn where refreshments had been laid out on long trestle tables.

The Duke handed Viola a large glass of homemade lemonade, smiling at her flushed cheeks and tousled hair.

“You see, the dances are not that difficult, although I think perhaps they are a little rowdy for the select London ballrooms!”

Viola looked up at him, mischief in her eyes.

“I recall us dancing at just such a ball!  You were certainly far less energetic than you are tonight!”

“But that was because I was hypnotised by a pair of brilliant bright blue eyes and could hardly remember how to waltz.  Indeed I can hardly bear to take my eyes from you ever again!”

Viola caught her breath as she found herself staring up into dark eyes that burnt with a passion she had always longed to see.

Ever since she was old enough to consider falling in love, she had wanted a man to look at her in the way that Robert, the Duke of Glentorran, was doing now.

There was no need for words.

Everything he felt for her was there in his eyes and she knew that he could read her feelings in her face just as easily.

The Duke tore his gaze from the beautiful sight in front of him and glanced round the hot crowded barn.

He realised that they were at the centre of attention and at that moment he craved for a quiet lonely spot where he could tell Viola exactly how he felt about her.

He took the glass of lemonade from her and placed it on a nearby table.

“Please walk with me down to the harbour side,” he murmured. “I want to speak to you and what I have to say is for you and you
alone
to hear.”

Drawing her arm through his he turned to the door.

Just at that moment one of the fishermen came up and touched his forehead in salute.

He muttered a request to the Duke, who frowned in exasperation, then turned to Viola and muttered,

“Dear girl, will you excuse me for a minute or two.  Apparently a stupid dispute has broken out between two families over the naming of a new boat!

“They are quite capable of coming to a decision by fisticuffs. My wise advice might make for a more peaceful atmosphere here tomorrow morning and a reduction in cut lips and black eyes!”

Viola tried not to feel bitterly disappointed.

She realised that he was the type of man for whom duty would always come before his own desires and it was one of the reasons she loved him so much.

“Of course.  I quite understand.  Perhaps it will be best if you choose the name instead.”

The Duke squeezed her hand.

“Then I will just insist they name the boat
The Lady Viola
,” he answered her with a broad smile that brought the colour to her cheeks again.

“Wait here for me, dear Viola.  I shall not be long. I promise.”

She watched him stride out of the barn.

He looked so wonderful.

Tall and athletic, the kilt swinging as he walked.

She turned back to the table and discovered Heather Lyall standing there serving huge slices of shortbread and hot pies to the hungry dancers.

Viola's gaze flashed over to the plaid Heather wore across her pale grey dancing dress.

And
yes!

There, gleaming amongst the greens and blues, was the big diamond brooch that belonged to Mrs. Van Ashton.

How long ago it seemed now that she had seen that same brooch worn by her loud-voiced, good-hearted American hostess on board that ill-fated ship, the
Stars and Stripes.

Viola bit her lip and decided that she had no choice but to speak.

 She reckoned she might be doing the wrong thing, but if the Lyall family were involved in wrecking ships that strayed too close to the coast, then she had no option but to act.

She could not have lived with herself if a life was lost because of her inaction.

“I hope you are you enjoyin' yourself, my Lady?” Heather asked her cheerfully.  “It's bonny to see you here at our ceilidh.  And it is so fine to watch our Lord Robert enjoying himself so much.  He has seemed so worried and sad recently.

“May I take the liberty of asking you, how is your brother?  Has he recovered from his illness?”

“David is nearly back to full health, thank you.”

“Och, that is good news.  Fergus feared he was lost to you.  He looked very pale and ill when he was rescued from that wreck.  But now I can tell him that all is well.”

“Is your husband not with us tonight?” Viola asked, glancing around, trying to spot the fisherman's bright red hair in the throng of villagers.

Heather shook her head.

“No, my Lady.  It's a grand night for fishin' – overcast and no moon.  He went out a couple of hours ago.  My mother is looking after our bairn and so I can come and enjoy myself for a few wee hours.”

She turned to serve a slice of shortbread to another hungry dancer.

Viola stood there, undecided as to what she should do next and was about to leave when Heather turned to her once more.

“Can I tempt you to a slice of shortbread, my Lady?  I made it myself.”

Viola shook her head.

“No, thank you.  But it looks very good, Heather – I may call you Heather, I trust – I was wondering – ”

She took a deep breath,

“I could not but help notice that lovely brooch you are wearing.”

Heather blushed deeply and ran her fingers over the glittering stones.

“Och, I do know to a lady such as yourself, it seems perhaps a cheap nonsense, but it was a wee gift from my Fergus and so it is very dear to me.”

She lowered her voice so no one else could hear.

“The fishing has been very poorly lately, my Lady, and there's been no money for fripperies.  He must have been saving up the odd pennies here and there to buy this fairing from the travelling peddler who calls every year.”

Viola bit her lip again.

That brooch was certainly no fairing, so Fergus had lied to Heather.

He had stolen it from the wreck, from the luggage swept up onto the beach during the storm.

But should she make this fact common knowledge?

What would happen to Fergus?

Would he be charged with stealing and imprisoned?

Oh, that would be terrible.  What would happen to his wife and child if that happened?

But on the other hand this fabulous diamond brooch could not stay here in the Glentorran fishing village.

It was worth a great deal of money and it must be returned to Mrs. Van Ashton, its rightful owner.