Castle of Secrets (3 page)

Helena
looked at it longingly.
The crust was a golden brown, and it smelled savoury.

Mrs Beal was
about to sit down, when she appeared to remember herself and went on: ‘But
perhaps you’d prefer to eat in the housekeeper’s room?’

Helena
looked round. With its
cheery fire and its air of wholesomeness, the kitchen was an inviting place.
Besides, she hoped to learn something of use.

‘No, I would
far rather eat here with you.’

‘It’s nice to
have a bit of company,’ said Mrs Beal comfortably.

‘Did the last
housekeeper eat with you?’ asked Helena, reminding herself that she was not
meant to have known Mrs Carlisle, and that she must speak of her aunt only in
the most general terms.

‘Sometimes.
She liked to take her breakfast in the kitchen with me,’ said Mrs Beal, cutting
the pie and putting a generous slice onto
Helena
’s plate. Steam rose from it, and
gravy ran round the plate, whilst large chunks of beef fell out of the pastry
casing, with pieces of carrots and turnips.

‘It must have
been difficult for you since Mrs Carlisle left,’ she said, sitting opposite Mrs
Beal and taking up her fork.

‘I won’t deny
it,’ said the cook. ‘I’ve had to do all the ordering and planning myself. Not
that I didn’t do a lot when Mrs Carlisle was here, but we shared it, and it was
always useful to have someone to ask about the menus.’

‘She left in a
hurry, I understand,’ said
Helena
, as she put a mouthful of the pie into her mouth. The pastry
was light and feathery, and the meat was tender. She felt her spirits rise, for
Mrs Beal was a very good cook.

‘Yes, poor
lady. It was her sister. She was taken ill. What could Mrs Carlisle do but go
and look after her? One night she was drinking chocolate by the fire with me,
the next morning she’d left the castle.’

‘She left
overnight?’ asked
Helena
,
putting her fork down in surprise.

‘It was on
account of the letter that came,’ said Mrs Beal as she, too ate her meal.

‘A letter came
late at night?’ queried
Helena
.

Mrs Beal
looked surprised. ‘That does seem odd, now you mention it. It must have come
earlier in the day, of course, but likely she didn’t have time to read it.
There’s always a lot of work in the castle, and she was kept busy.’

‘It must have
been a comfort for her to be able to talk to you about it,’ said
Helena
.

Mrs Beal shook
her head. ‘She never mentioned it to me. I would have comforted her if I could
have done, but I never saw her. She left before daybreak. It was his lordship
that told me about it.’

Helena
found the story more and
more disturbing.

‘She must have
had a long walk over the moor. It can’t have been pleasant for her in the dark.
I hope she didn’t miss her way,’ she said, hoping to lead Mrs Beal to say more.

‘His lordship
ordered the carriage for her. He sent her to Draycot, so she could pick up the
stage coach from there.’

‘That was very
good of him.’

‘There’s
things said about him in the village,’ said Mrs Beal, between mouthfuls of pie,
‘and of course there was . . . yes, well, least said soonest mended  . . . but
I’ve never had anything but kindness from him. There’s many a master would have
washed their hands of a housekeeper, once she’d decided to leave.’

Helena
did not like the sound of
yes, well, least said soonest mended
  but for the present she was more
interested in her aunt.

‘Did she have
far to travel?’ she asked, trying to sound as though hers was a casual interest.

‘I don’t
rightly know. He didn’t say. “If I’d known, I’d have packed her up a hamper,” I
said. “I could have put her up some bread and cheese, and a piece or two of
chicken, and some of my apple pie.” I’d made one that morning, and it would
have helped her on her way,’ she told
Helena
. ‘But the poor lady went off with nothing. I’ve often
wondered about her, and how she’s getting on.’

‘She has not
written to you to let you know that she is all right, and to tell you how her
sister is?’

‘She won’t have
time for writing, any more than I have time for reading. Although she did write
letters now and again.’

‘Yes?’ asked
Helena
, her pulse quickening.

‘Yes, to her
niece. “She’s all I have in the world,” she used to say to me. A nice girl, by
all accounts.’

‘That was a
strange thing to say, if she also had a sister,’ said
Helena
.

Mrs Beal
looked surprised. ‘So it was. She must have meant, all I have in the world
beside a sister.’

Helena
said nothing. It was
becoming clear to her that, although Mrs Beal was very friendly, she did not
have an enquiring mind. Thoughts of where the housekeeper had gone and what she
was doing had not troubled her. She simply accepted what she had been told.

‘And she did
not tell you she was leaving before she went?’ asked
Helena
. ‘How very strange.’

‘Folks do
strange things when they’re upset,’ said Mrs Beal sagely. ‘My sister once took
the cat with her when her daughter was knocked down by a carriage. She meant to
put a cushion in the basket, but she took Pussy Willow instead.’

It was clear
to
Helena
that she would learn
nothing more from Mrs Beal. She ate her pie and finished her wine, feeling,
first of all her limbs, and then her fingers and toes grow warm.

The
conversation turned to more practical matters. Mrs Beal told her about the
castle, and gave her instructions on how to find the main rooms. As they talked
of the housekeeper’s room,
Helena
learnt that, although Mrs Carlisle had taken breakfast and
dinner every day with Mrs Beal in the kitchen, she had had her lunch served in
the housekeeper’s room.

‘I think I,
too, will take lunch in the housekeeper’s room,’ said
Helena
.

She would be
sure of one hot meal on the morrow, before she had to face the moor again.

‘If you want a
dish of tea at any time, just ring the bell. Effie will answer it.’

The scullery
maid looked up briefly at the mention of her name, and then went back to
peeling the potatoes.

‘You’ll have a
bit of apple dumpling?’ asked Mrs Beal, when they had finished their
conversation.

Helena
readily accepted, and by
the time the clock struck a quarter to the hour she was feeling almost
cheerful.

‘I ought to be
going to the library. I have to see his lordship there at
six o’clock
, and it may take me some
time to find it.’

‘Effie can
show you the way.’ Mrs Beal turned round, but Effie was no longer there. ‘Never
here when wanted,’ said Mrs Beal, though her tone was not unkind. ‘She must’ve
gone to mend the fires. But you’ll soon find the library. Just go up to the
hall as I said, and it’s on your left.’

Taking up a
candle,
Helena
ventured out into the
cold corridor once more, but as soon as the kitchen door closed behind her,
some of her confidence began to leave her. She felt the cold bite into her, and
she was glad of her shawl. After the light of many candles and the glow of the
fire, the corridor  seemed darker and colder than ever. She hurried along,
tripping once on an uneven flagstone, and afterwards not knowing whether to
watch her feet, or look at the way ahead. She had an urge to do neither, but
instead to look over her shoulder, for she felt sure that someone was following
her, but every time she turned round, there was no one there.

It is just
my imagination
, she told herself,
I must not succumb to fancy
. But the shadows
danced beyond the light of her candle flame, and seemed to mock her with their
shifting presence, assuming monstrous shapes before diminishing as she passed.

She came at
last to the end of the corridor and went up the steps, and was soon crossing
the hall. She stopped outside the library door as the clock chimed the hour.
She smoothed her hair, arranged the folds of her skirt, took a deep breath, and
knocked on the door.

There was a moment’s silence and then
the earl’s voice called, ‘Come in.’

Helena
opened the door and found
herself in a large room, its stone walls decorated with hangings and its stone
floor was covered with a rug. Two candelabras on the mantelpiece and another
one on a large desk in the middle of the room did their best to provide light,
but the walls were lost in darkness, save for glints of gold coming from the
shadows that hinted the room was lined with books. There was a leaping fire in
the grate, and in front of it stood the earl, holding a letter in his hand. He
looked up as she entered.

‘When I ask to
see you in future, I expect you to arrive before the last chime has been
struck. I will not tolerate tardiness,’ he said.

Helena
said nothing, not knowing
what to reply.

‘Well, come
in,’ he said.

She closed the
door and stepped forward.

‘So. Mrs
Elizabeth Reynolds,’ he said, looking down at the letter. ‘You have three
years’ experience of housekeeping, two with the Right Honourable Mrs Keily, and
one with the Rev Mr Plumley. Mr Keily was in business, I see.’

An expression
of fastidious distaste crossed his face as he said it, and she was forcibly
reminded of the fact that he was an aristocrat. He had never had to earn his
living, never known the fear of having nowhere to live, nowhere to go. She
imagined a long line of ancestors stretching out behind him, reaching back
through the centuries, governing the land and living in the castle. How long
had he and his family lived there, she wondered, maintaining tradition, keeping
the peace, ruling the neighbourhood? A hundred years? Two hundred years? Or
even longer?

He went on,
recalling her thoughts.

‘You came by
your position with Mr Plumley through the registry office, I see,’ he said,
referring to the letter. ‘You wrote to the office again when Mr Plumley
married, because his wife chose to manage the house herself, and the office
recommended you for the job at the castle.’

‘Yes, my
lord.’

‘Well, you
will find it very different here. A castle is not a tradesman’s house, even one
as lost as this.’

‘No, my lord.’

‘Now, to your
duties. You will make sure the dining-room and the other inhabited rooms are
kept clean and warm. You will make sure there is a fire in the library at all
times, and you will tend to it yourself. You will not allow any other member of
staff to enter the library, except Miss Parkins.’

‘Miss
Parkins?’

‘You will meet
her later. She has my full confidence. You will take responsibility for
everything that goes on inside the castle and you will make sure that I am not
troubled with household matters, except for an appointed hour once a week, when
you will report to me. As this is your first week, you will report to me
tomorrow afternoon at four o’clock, when I will answer any questions that might
have arisen once you have had an opportunity to familiarise yourself with the
castle.’

‘Very good, my
lord.’

‘You know
enough to begin with.’ He waved his hand and said: ‘That will be all for
today.’

It was a
dismissal.
Helena
inclined her head then
left the room.

As she closed
the door behind her, she let out a sigh of relief, for she had passed the test,
and been accepted as Elizabeth Reynolds.

She crossed
the hall and mounted the stairs, returning to her room.
I can do no more
this evening
, she thought,
but tomorrow I must question the footman
.

As she opened
the door she felt a welcome heat and realised that a fire had been lit in her
absence. She was about to cross to the fireplace when she saw, with a start,
that she was not alone. A figure was standing in the corner, its dark eyes like
blots of ink set in a parchment face. It was dressed in a grey woollen gown,
and its hair was drawn back into a severe chignon. It was holding a taper, and
there was a sepulchral look about it. She wondered if one of the other servants
had played a trick on her by putting a mannequin in her room to frighten her .
. .  until it suddenly moved, and
Helena
realised with a creeping sensation that it was not a
mannequin, but a woman of flesh and blood.

The woman
ignored
Helena
and used the taper to
light the candles. The gesture seemed territorial, as though she were saying to
Helena
,
This is my room, and
you do not belong here.