A Castle of Dreams (5 page)

“Certainly not!  Jump Viola!  I'll be right behind you”

Viola swung herself over the rail, balanced for a second or two and then let herself drop down towards the man in the rowing boat.

Strong arms caught hold of her and for a minute they swayed together as the boat rocked under her weight.

“Thank you!  Thank you
so
much!”

Viola tilted her head back to look up at her rescuer and then gulped.

He pushed his floppy hat back from his sodden face and she instantly recognised the stern dark face of Robert, the Duke of Glentorran.

“
You
!”

Robert, the Duke of Glentorran, gazed down at the face that had haunted his dreams for months.

The same dark blue eyes and perfect mouth.

Although her long hair was darkened to amber by the driving rain and spray, he would have recognised her anywhere.

“Your Grace – ”

Viola's voice was no more than a whisper.

She could not think clearly, especially as the Duke was still holding her tightly in his arms as the little rowing boat swayed alarmingly in the rough sea.

For a long second they just stared into each other's eyes and then the Duke gave his head a little shake.

“We will talk later,” he grunted abruptly whilst he helped her to a seat.

“My brother, sir.  He has not been well.  He is very weak.  I don't know if he can manage to jump down into this boat.”

Viola stared up to where David was leaning against the ship's railing far above her head.

But not that far now!

The luxurious vessel was slowly sinking.

Without another word, the Duke swung himself up a rope hanging over the side of the ship and helped David clamber down it.

He eased him safely into the rowing boat, frowning as he saw the young man's white face.

David was now shaking violently and looked half- unconscious and desperately ill.

“How many more are still left on board?” the Duke shouted to Viola above the howling of the wind.

She wiped spray from her eyes.

“The Captain and some of his crew, Your Grace.”

Just then another rowing boat appeared through the mist and the Duke shouted in a strange language to the men manning its oars.

Then he turned to his red-headed companion.

“They will take the Captain and his crew to safety.  Row us to shore, Fergus, to the Castle, not the harbour.  As fast as you can.  I must get the Viscount into the warm.”

“Viscount no longer,” murmured Viola. “Our father has died and David is now the Earl of Northcombe.”

The Duke nodded.

“My deep condolences, Lady Viola.  But whatever his title, he needs to be in a warm bed very quickly with a doctor in full attendance. 
Why
on earth did you allow him to travel in this state?”

Viola tossed her head at the reproof in his voice.

Was this man just always going to find fault with everything she did?  At least
she
was not trying to marry for money!

“I thought the time of year, late May, meant that the sea would be calm.  David had recovered from pneumonia – our doctor in America said that he was fit to travel.  But sadly he seems to have suffered a major relapse in the last few days.”

She bent over her twin, trying to protect him from the worst of the rain.

Her heavy coat had been left behind on the sinking yacht along with all their clothes and possessions, she now realised.

But at least they were now safe and that was all that mattered.

Five minutes later the rowing boat was grounding on the stony shore of a little cove.

With the Duke on one side and Fergus on the other, David was helped from the boat and half-led, half-carried up the steep stone steps cut into the cliff face.

Viola bent down and gathered up her soaking skirt, the heavy woollen fabric made much heavier by cold sea water, and followed behind them, fighting hard to keep her balance on the slippery surface.

The Duke turned when they were halfway up.

“Can you manage, Lady Viola?”

“Yes, certainly.  See to David, please.”

Without another word, the Duke now reached down a tanned hand and pulled her up a particularly steep step.

Then he returned his attention to the young Earl.

As they reached the top of the steps, Viola looked up and gasped.

There in front of her, the mist drifting around it like white chiffon scarves, stood Glentorran Castle, its pointed turrets, tall chimneys and wonderful deep windows giving it a magical appearance.

“Oh, how wonderful!”

The words of delight fell from Viola's lips before she could stop them.

“How incredibly beautiful!”

The Duke's stern face relaxed slightly.

It was odd how happy her words made him.

 “Aye – it's a bonny place. And it will stay bonny for a good while yet!  There will be plenty of time for you to explore.  Ah, here comes my sister!”

Lady Margaret Glentorran now came flying down the pathway that led from a rough shrubbery area, her long black hair loose around her shoulders.

“I have alerted Mrs. Livesey – there are beds to be prepared – and – oh, my goodness!”

She clasped her hands to her mouth.

“I just
cannot
believe it.  It is David!  I mean it is Lord Powell and Lady Viola!”

“It most certainly is, Meg, but for now all questions and explanations must wait.  This young man is not well.  Please go back to the house and send Euan for the doctor immediately.”

Lady Margaret hesitated for a moment, not wishing to leave David's side, but then obedience to her brother's order overcame her inclinations and so she turned and sped away, her tartan shawl flying behind her in the rain.

The Duke and Fergus now bundled David through the grounds and into the Castle.

A great arched stone corridor led past the kitchens, the staff quarters and the back staircases to the baize door that divided the two parts of the Castle.

After another long passage, they reached the Great Hall of the Castle where Margaret was waiting with a grey-haired older woman dressed in black, a large cameo brooch fastening a piece of fine white lace to the neck of her dress.

“Och, the poor young gentleman.  Fergus, take him up the stairs to the Green room at once.  Lady Margaret will show you the way.  I have rung for the doctor, Your Grace, and there is a warming pan in the bed and cook is sending up beef broth.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Livesey.  Fergus please carry him gently upstairs.  Lady Viola – this is Mrs. Dorcas Livesey, our housekeeper here at the Castle for many years.  As was her mother before her and her mother before that!  There have always been Liveseys at Glentorran.”

“Welcome, my Lady.  I have a room ready for you as well, next door to your brother's.  I have had a fire lit because even in early summer, Scotland can be very chilly in the evening.

“I will lead the way if you would kindly follow me.  You need to change out of those wet clothes quickly or we will have two invalids on our hands!”

“I will wait for the doctor,” said the Duke and must have caught Viola's expression of surprise.

“I am afraid the staff at the Castle have been much reduced of late and Euan, who is the one and only footman, has been sent to summon the medical help.”

“We don't wish to be a nuisance – ” Viola began.  “Perhaps a local hotel could – ”

The Duke waved away her words with a brusque,

“Och, what rubbish!  Never let it be said anywhere that Glentorran hospitality is lacking in any way!”

Viola dropped a brief bob of gratitude and followed the housekeeper up the narrow winding staircase that led to the upper levels of the Castle.

Her room was rather small, the dark green curtains and carpet clean, but worn and old-fashioned.

Viola pulled off her soaking clothes, glad to find an old silk quilted dressing gown hanging behind the door.

She pulled her hair free from its pins and rubbed it as dry as she could in the towel provided for her.

Then she sank down on the bed and buried her face in her hands.

The relief of eventually being safe, the worry over David's health and having to face the Duke of Glentorran suddenly overwhelmed her.

She closed her eyes gratefully and fell instantly into a deep sleep from sheer exhaustion.

*

A few hours later she awoke feeling much stronger.  Someone must have come unheard into her room while she was asleep, because an oil lamp had been lit and glowed gently on the dressing table whilst a large fire was crackling in the grate.

In the passageway outside her room she could hear muffled voices and guessed that the doctor had arrived.

Wrapping the quilted dressing gown firmly around her slender waist, she opened the door and stepped out.

A thin wiry gentleman with sparse, sandy-coloured hair and bushy eyebrows in a dark old-fashioned frock coat was standing there talking to Lady Margaret.

“Och, Lady Viola, you are awake!  Excellent.  This is Doctor Monroe.  He has been examining your brother.”

“Good evening doctor.  How is David?  I have been so worried about him.”

Doctor Monroe turned shrewd blue eyes on her.

“Good evening to you, Lady Viola.  Well now, yon brother of yours, he is not as fit as a young man should be and that is the truth of the matter.”

“But he is in no danger, surely?”

Viola was overcome with guilt.

If anything dreadful was to happen to her beloved David, she would blame herself.  They should have stayed much longer in America until he was fully recovered from his pneumonia.

It was only her silly fancy to get away from Lewis Wilder and his marriage demands that had made her want to flee in such a stupid headstrong fashion.

“Don't fret yourself, my Lady.  With good nursing and good food, he should pull through, but he will need to be kept warm and quiet for several weeks or I will not be answering for the consequences.”

Viola bit her lip.

“But, doctor, we must travel down to London.  We cannot possibly stay here in Scotland.  Why, we only have with us the clothes we are standing up in – and no money nor possessions of any sort.”

Doctor Monroe picked up his black bag and peered at the two girls over his little square spectacles.

“I thought I had made myself clear, Lady Viola, but I will say it once more.  Yon young Lord is not to be moved from this Castle for at least a month!  And that is my final word on the matter.  Now I will wish you a good evening.  I will see myself out, Lady Margaret, and I will return to examine my patient in a day or two.”

Viola gazed helplessly at Lady Margaret whilst the doctor vanished down the corridor towards the stairs.

“This is just
awful
.  How could we possibly impose on your brother's hospitality for such a long time?”

A look of concern crossed Lady Margaret's pretty face.

“It is no imposition on us at all.  I am quite sure that Robert would be shocked to hear that you thought it so.”

Viola's head was whirling.

She knew the Scottish girl was right, but how could she possibly manage to exist under the same roof as the Duke for a whole month when they had parted on such bad terms in London?

“And Lady Viola  – ”

“Oh, please call me Viola.”

Lady Margaret blushed.

“Why thank you.  And everyone here calls me Meg.  Margaret seemed such a big name when I was a wee child!

“I was about to suggest, don't worry yourself about clothes. Although you are slightly taller than me, I am sure there will be no problem in altering some of my dresses so they will fit you.  And I do know that Robert has plenty of kilts.  When your brother is able to move around, I am sure that he will look fine in a kilt!”

Viola smiled to herself as she imagined the look of horror that would cross her twin brother's face when faced with wearing what he would consider a
skirt
!

“Mrs. Livesey is sitting in with your brother at the moment, but obviously you will wish to see him straight away.

“I'll be away and find you some garments to wear tomorrow.  I have also arranged for a meal to be served in your bedroom, as I am sure you do not want to be bothered with formal dining tonight.”

Viola thanked her profusely, deeply impressed by how well organised she was.

At first glance Lady Margaret seemed rather a shy timid creature, but this was obviously not the case.

She entered David's room, her mind still spinning.

Clearly they would have to stay in Scotland for at least a month.

Viola had no idea how the Duke would react to that particular piece of news!

*

The next morning a sharp fresh wind blew through Viola's open window.

She awoke warm and comfortable and then sprang out of bed to gaze from the casement window, wondering at the beauty of the wild rocky coastline that lay spread out before her.

The storms of the day before had vanished and the sky was a pale eggshell blue and the sea a flat plate of dark green.

Viola realised her room was high up in one of the turrets and she could see for miles in both directions.

On one side of the turret a window looked out over acres of neglected grounds that lead towards the moors and distant mountains.

From the window on the other side of her room the view was of the sea.

And there, only a few short yards from the beach – that must be the ring of vicious rocks that had been their ship's downfall.

There was no sign of wreckage anywhere and she imagined it must have sunk without a trace.

Turning back to her room she found underclothes, a long-sleeved white blouse and a freshly pressed tweed skirt and jacket hanging on a hook behind the door.

Someone had indeed been busy overnight because when she put on the skirt, it fitted perfectly.

The shoes she had worn had been dried and cleaned and she washed and dressed with speed, anxious to check on how her brother had passed the night.