Come to Castlemoor (5 page)

Alan noticed my interest in the ruin. He slowed the horse down a bit so that I might have more time to study it. One of the lemon-colored rays slanted across the ruin like a mystic finger pointing it out to me. I felt a sense of awe.

“It's—beautiful,” I whispered.

“If you like that sort of thing,” Alan said matter-of-factly.

“It's so big—”

“That 'un's small,” he said. “The really big 'uns are farther on, beyond your house. I imagine you'll be spendin' a lot of time studyin' 'em, just like your brother did.”

“I imagine so,” I replied, as the wagon rolled down a gentle slope and the ruin vanished from sight.

“Funny thing about them stones,” Alan said. “No one knows where they come from. Great hunks of rock they are, most of 'em, unlike any around here. Ain't no rock like that anywhere in the county, anywhere in the whole of Wessex for that matter. One of them fellows that studies rocks—what do you call 'em—”

“Geologists?”

“Yeah, one of them geologists from a German university was out here a couple of years ago. Spent several months studyin' the rocks and the soil, and he said it was a bloomin' mystery—where them big stones come from.”

“There are several theories,” I told him, feeling very erudite. “The most popular is that England and Europe were once joined by a strip of land where the English Channel is now and that the Celts got the rocks there and transported them here, thousands and thousands of years ago. It hasn't been proven, of course, but it does sound likely.”

Alan looked very impressed. I had been unable to resist showing off a little, though I realized it was quite unfeminine.

“You sound just like your brother,” he remarked. “Talk like 'im—”

“Miss Kathy's
ter
ribly smart,” Bella said proudly. “She helped Mr. Donald write his first book, and she intends to finish the one he was workin' on. We're not
ordinary
people, I'm pleased to say.”

“Aye, and that's no lie,” Alan muttered.

Although it was not yet completely dark, the sky still more green than black, I could see the first stars flickering dimly like chips of diamond scattered recklessly in space. We passed through a grove of scrubby trees, over a marshy stretch, and then I got my first sight of Castlemoor. It was an enormous gray structure, perfectly square, with a round turreted tower at each corner, stone battlements around the top. There was no moat, no drawbridge, but the front entrance door must have been twelve feet tall, seven across, ancient black oak embellished with brass studs. The windows were recessed at least a foot within the thick stone walls, the leaded glass as dark as steel. Oak trees grew around it, though they were by no means as immense as those we had seen earlier, the topmost branches barely reaching the battlements. The castle was like something out of Sir Walter Scott, and it looked all the more incredible sitting there in the middle of the empty, desolate land.

“Land o' Goshen!” Bella cried, unable to restrain herself.

“Aye, impressive, ain't it?”

“I'm not believin' my own eyes,” Bella retorted. “People
live
there? Why, it could hold an army—”

“Aye, people live there. There's two hundred rooms—some of 'em big as a barn—and that's not countin' the dungeons.”

“Dungeons!”

He nodded, grinning. “And some say a secret tunnel that leads out to the moors a mile away, though I ain't never seen it myself. There's a vast courtyard with trees and a vegetable garden, and stables, too, right there inside the castle. It's somethin' to see, though ain't many folks had that privilege.”

“You've been inside?” I asked.

“Aye, I've delivered supplies and packages.”

“How many servants?” Bella wanted to know.

“Ten or twelve. Most of the place is shut up, all dust and cobwebs, white shrouds over the furniture. Used to be fifty servants, they say.”

“It looks scary,” Bella said. “I'm sure
I
wouldn't want to work in such a place. It'd give me the creeps.”

We rounded a bend, and the castle was partially concealed by a curving slope of land. The wagon headed down, and I saw the house. It was small and neat, two stories high, with a blue-slate roof and a crooked chimney of dusty-orange brick. The stone was the same dark gray as the castle, but it looked lighter, not so dark and ponderous. Neat blue shutters framed the leaded-glass windows, and an oak tree towered up in the front, spreading its limbs to touch the roof. There was a small garden to one side, protected by a low stone fence, and in back there was a smoke shed and an ice house. I thought it was beautiful, a mellow, comfortable oasis here in the middle of the moor. Alan stopped the wagon in front. I felt something wet on my cheek, and only then realized my lashes were brimming with tears.

Alan helped us down and took our valises out of the back of the wagon. I wiped my eyes and looked with love at my new home. Bella gave it a quick inspection and then turned to Alan, who was standing rather awkwardly beside the horse, stroking its chestnut coat.

“Aunt Maud came out this mornin' and straightened up,” he said. “She put fresh linens on the beds and checked the pantry. There's hams and bacon in the smoke shed, cheese and eggs and butter in the ice house. You'll find lamps and candles on the hall table just inside the door.”

“Thank your aunt for me, Alan,” I said.

“We knew you'd be gettin' in. Aunt Maud, she was mighty fond of your brother, and she wanted to make you feel right at home.”

“Do tell her I'm looking forward to meeting her.”

“I'll do that, ma'am.” He dug his toc in the dirt and seemed reluctant to leave. “I—uh—I reckon I'll be stoppin' by tomorrow to see if you need anything.”

“I reckon you will,” Bella said tartly. They understood each other perfectly. “You might just take a bath first!” she snapped. “And when you come, I want you to bring a new broom and lemon oil and a pail of wax and—” She paused, giving him a saucy look. “I might just be able to use a new ribbon for my hair.”

Alan gave her a long, slow look that was almost menacing. The sapphire eyes crackled and the wide mouth grimaced. Bella glared at him impudently, her hands on her hips. Alan started to say something, then thought better of it. He shrugged his shoulders and climbed back up on the wagon. He saluted us and drove away, whistling softly to himself. There would be no ribbon tomorrow, but there would be verbal fireworks, and Bella would be in her element. She smiled, watching the wagon disappear over the slope. She turned to me, radiant, full of merry expectations. I wiped a final tear from my cheek and took her hand. We went inside just as the final yellow ray died on the horizon and night fell black over the moors.

CHAPTER FOUR

Waves of sunlight washed in through the open window, spilling over the old green carpet and reflecting brilliantly on the green-and-white-striped wallpaper. I felt the warmth on my eyelids and opened my eyes, to see the leaves of the oak tree rustling, and beyond, the towers of Castlemoor sticking up over the hill. I stretched luxuriously, rustling the coarse linen sheets and disturbing the brilliantly hued patchwork quilt at the foot of the bed. The room was small, the furniture plain—golden oak with a gloss of varnish over the natural grain. A white porcelain pot with delicate green leaves sat on a low table, and the light-blue curtains billowed at the windows. It was a wonderful room, and I already felt at home.

Delicious smells drifted upstairs from the kitchen. I stretched again and got out of bed, slipping my feet into the yellow slippers and pulling a yellow robe over my white nightgown. I tied the sash and pushed disheveled golden curls away from my face, then walked down the narrow hall and paused at the head of the staircase with its shabby green carpet and glossy oak banister. I tried to identify the smells. Coffee, for sure, and sausage, and freshly baked bread? Impossible. Not at this hour. Then I saw the white porcelain clock in the hall and realized it was after ten. I had slept incredibly late, but the bed had been heavenly and the house a haven after the rigors of traveling. I hurried down the stairs and passed through the parlor and on into the compact little kitchen at the back of the house.

Bella was just taking the bread out of the squat black stove. Her hair tumbled about her shoulders, and her cheeks were a bright pink from the heat of the oven. She took out two crusty golden loaves that would have pleased a master and set them carefully on the zinc drainboard. The drainboard was smeared with flour, and particles of flour were sprinkled over the dull red floor like white dust. Bella tossed the potholders aside and took out a long butcher knife and a piece of pumice stone. She started to sharpen the knife, making a noise not at all endearing to one who had just awakened.

“There!” she cried, testing the edge of the knife with her finger. “I see you finally woke up! I was goin' to wake you, but I thought it'd be nice to have breakfast all ready. Then I decided to make bread so you'd have a bit of toast with your coffee.”

“You spoil me, Bella,” I protested, though weakly.

“That's what I'm for,” she retorted.

“What time did you get up?” I asked.

“Hours ago! Couldn't sleep a wink for thinkin' about them awful tales that Alan Dunne was fillin' our heads with. There's heaps of work to do, Miss Kathy. Our trunks are piled in the front room, and books are spillin' all over the place in the study. The windows need cleanin', and the place needs a whole goin' over—”

“It can wait till after breakfast,” I said wearily.

“Oh, it'll take us a week at least!”

Bella was surprisingly enthusiastic about domestic affairs. She loved to cook, to clean, to sew, to stock the pantry. She had a genius for such things and loved doing them almost as much as she loved exchanging insults with strapping young men. I sat down at a table spread with a dark-yellow cloth and set with chipped blue dishes. Bella sliced the bread and toasted some of it while I admired the copper pots and pans hanging on one wall and the golden oak cabinets that dominated another.

“I want to go through Donald's things this morning,” I said.

“That study's a mess, and that's no lie! All those files and papers! Mr. Donald never let me get anywhere
near
his workin' quarters, and I'm not goin' to start now. I'll unpack the trunks while you're in there. Alan Dunne can take the empty trunks down to the cellar when he gets here.”

Bella served a delicious breakfast of toast, coffee, and sausage, producing a jar of wild-strawberry jam she had found in the cabinets. We chatted as we ate, discussing a wide assortment of subjects. Bella was satisfied with her small room adjoining the kitchen, although she wanted new curtains for the windows and said all the mattresses needed airing. She intended to make a list of food and supplies for Alan to purchase in town, and she had a mind to bake a chocolate cake this afternoon if she could find the time. I had several cups of coffee, lingering at the table. Bella was able to get up in the morning and radiate vitality. It took me quite a long time to be really certain that I was actually awake.

“Come on, Miss Kathy! Let's get started!” Bella cried fifteen minutes after she had cleared the table. “It's practically
noon
.”

“All right!” I retorted, none too pleasantly.

“For shame,” she said, frowning. Bella had always been bewildered by this post-rising stupor which was a Hunt-family trait. My brother had been even worse than I. No one dared speak to him for at least an hour after he got out of bed, and he had even been known to throw old shoes at birds who sang on the window ledges of our old apartment. I finally got up from the table, noting that Bella was clanking the dishes together with unnecessary noise. I yawned, stretched, and finally went up to my room.

I changed into a light-blue dress with tiny pink print roses and tied my hair back with a long blue ribbon. I went back downstairs with a feeling of reluctance. I didn't want to go through Donald's desk and files, but I knew it was something that had to be done.

Donald had turned the front sitting room into his study. The room had been light and airy, with pearl-gray walls, light-blue carpet, graceful white furniture, but he had managed to amass a masculine clutter that marred the intended atmosphere. The sky-blue-velvet sofa had been shoved into a corner to make room for a bulky brown desk on which sat a huge lamp with red-glass shade, a black-onyx desk set, an elephant of carved ivory, several paperweights, and at least twenty books. Boxes of magazines and journals sat beside the desk, and on the other side of the room an immense filing cabinet stood between two delicate blue-and-white chairs. One wall was covered with the shelves Alan had built for my brother's books, crammed full, and pipe racks and tobacco boxes and ashtrays rested sturdily on tables meant for fragile ornaments and flowers.

Going through all the desk drawers, I found several sketches of the ruins he had made with charcoal and ink, and I discovered a mushroom-shaped rock with a hole in the top, through which a leather thong had been inserted. I examined it with curiosity and blushed when I realized that it was a Celtic amulet of the sort described in several forbidden books. I wondered where Donald had found it. In the ruins, perhaps? Although it repelled me, I knew it was valuable, a museum piece, something he could certainly never have afforded to buy. I found various magazines, letters from myself and his professors, and several meaningless papers, but the manuscript I had been looking for was not there.

I put everything back in the desk, puzzled. Something bothered me, and at first I didn't realize what it was. I fingered the ivory elephant, trying to remember something. Then it struck me. Although the rest of the desk drawers had been hold-alls and invariably messy, Donald had always kept four of them scrupulously neat. One held blank paper, neatly stacked, and the next held pens, blotters, and ink, while the third was reserved for pages of manuscript in rough draft. The fourth drawer, usually locked, was for the final draft. Though everything else might have been heaped in messy piles, these four drawers had always been tidy. There had been no such system in the desk today. All the drawers were full of clutter, which wasn't at all like my brother.