Feather Castles (28 page)

During dinner, Charity behaved perfectly, her own bright chatter helping the taut moments slip past. Quite soon after the gentlemen joined the ladies, however, she began to look tired. Rachel summoned the two brawny footmen; one of whom carried Charity, and the other her chair. Bidding the company goodnight, Rachel also went upstairs and within the hour was in her bed—unhappily, neither to sleep nor dream.

*   *   *

Devenish essayed a mad leap and snatched up Mrs. O'Crumbs a split second before the hound's teeth would have caught her. The guard swore, pulling the dog back as the powerful animal ravened and strove to come at the frightened duck. “Devil take it!” cried Devenish, springing clear. “Call the brute off!”

By the light of the three-quarter moon, Tristram saw another man approaching, and Gerard called, “Something is amiss, gentlemen?” Coming up with them, he smiled. “Ah, I comprehend. I should have warned you. One does not walk the grounds after dark. The dogs do not patrol close to the house, but down here—” he shrugged. “A necessary precaution, you understand.”

“I did not see them in time, monsieur,” the guard said tonelessly, and turned to Devenish. “That was unwise. The dog near had your arm for his dinner.”

“Yes, and at first you made no effort to restrain him, damn your—”

“I apologize if we violate your rules, Monsieur Gerard.” Tristram's voice was chill. “Mr. Devenish and I merely wished to see the grounds by night.”

“Your wish is no sooner spoken than granted, messieurs. Pray walk wheresoever you will.” Gerard produced a silver whistle from his pocket. “I shall instruct the men to take the dogs in for a while.” He blew several long blasts and one short and warbling. “There—you will be perfectly safe now. Though—forgive that I suggest it—you might consider returning to the house within the half-hour.” His teeth flashed whitely in the darkness. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

Watching the two men move off, Devenish muttered, “Blasted place is like a castle under siege! I wonder how many of those damn great hounds they let loose at night? I've not seen a sign of one before this, have you?”

“No. They must be penned far from the house. The guard was right, though. I'd not want that brute's teeth in my arm. Why did you not employ your famous ‘way with animals'?”

His anger gone as swiftly as it had come, Devenish chuckled and, stroking the still outraged Mrs. O'Crumbs, replied, “Don't do to show all one's cards at the start of the game.”

“True, but I'd rather you do so than be savaged. Come—we'd best turn back. I'd not put it past Gerard to see how fast we can run!”

“One last look, only. Tris—is it not a fine spectacle? A regular Vauxhall Gardens!”

The hill sloped away below them like some enchanted land, soft lights illumining selected trees or flower beds, and the various structures aglow with colour. The English castle was a soft green, the Egyptian sphinx golden, the Grecian temple pale blue, and far down the hill they could see the red loom of the Pagoda. Tristram's thoughtful gaze flickered over it briefly, then his dark eyes again returned to the chateau. “I think the best time to attempt Claude's private floor would be during the ball—do you agree?”

Devenish slanted an alarmed glance at him, and as they started back towards the white sparkle of the great house, protested, “No, really, Tris. That's coming it a bit too brown. You never mean to attempt it?”

“Oh, yes. Diccon said the key to the entire mess is contained in a painting up there.”

“You caper-witted booberkin! Even did you succeed in getting inside— Good God, man! There might likely be fifty guards prowling there!”

“At least,” Tristram grinned. “If I cannot get in by the door, I mean to climb in from outside.”

“Oho! I wish I might see it!
Regardez vous,
the north and south walls boast neither balcony nor trellis. The west face is in full view of the inner windows from both wings, and the back of the chateau rises sheer from the edge of the hill. One slip, old lad, and you've a two hundred foot fall. Only were you to land on your head could you survive it.”

“Granted,” said Tristram. “But, seriously, d'you see that tall tree beside the south wing? Were I to climb that—”

“I do indeed see it. Not one branch reaches within ten feet of the wall. You propose to ask Mrs. O'Crumbs to fly you across, perchance?”

“Gudgeon! She'd never agree—she don't like me above half! If I took a rope with me and secured it to a branch, then I might swing across to a window.”

“And sail on through! That would properly wake the estate! But before you reached that point, my circus acrobat, have you considered that the chateau is pure white? Picture yourself dangling at the end of a rope, in full view of several guards who are having a frightfully jolly time, lobbing crossbow bolts into your carcass.”

“Do you know, Dev,” Tristram mused, “I rather doubt a crossbow is a very accurate weapon.”

*   *   *

The dawn was fair. One or two clouds, still touched with pink, hung lazily against clear skies, and, gazing up at them from her bedchamber window, Rachel sighed wistfully. It seemed very long ago that Tristram's deep voice had said, “… the feather castles of our lives? Yet some dreams do come true, you know.”

“Some dreams, my love,” she murmured sadly. “Some dreams.”

Agatha hurried in and closed the door behind her. “I saw Raoul, miss. He has the horses ready.”

“Oh, very good.” Rachel turned, smiling cheerily. “And no one else was there yet, I trust?”

“No one, ma'am, and sorry I am that I was so long. Here's you all dressed and your hair done, and everything.”

“Have I done dreadfully? You look—” She broke off, searching Agatha's solemn countenance with new anxiety. “What is it?”

“Raoul had a talk with the Captain last night, Miss Rachel.” Agatha glanced to the connecting door and moved closer, to say
sotto voce,
“The Captain said as Diccon hurt himself in England, and will not come for weeks—months perhaps.”

“I feared something of the sort.” Unconsciously gripping her hands, Rachel asked, “So Captain Tristram has taken his place, is that it?”

Her eyes very round, Agatha nodded. “Raoul says as they mean to help one another, and that you are not to worry.”

“Oh! He never told the Captain—I mean … did they speak of—of me?”

“Didn't have time, by what he says, miss.” The abigail's eyes softened. “But once he learns you want to go home, the Captain will arrange things, never you fear!”

Distraught, Rachel cried, “That is exactly what I
do
fear! Agatha, you must tell Raoul not to breathe one word to Captain Tristram that would lead him to think I—I am—” She paused, searching for a suitable word.

“Unhappy?” prompted Agatha. “But—miss, you
are,
poor soul! And worried out of your sweet wits besides, as if I wasn't to know! If you was to ask me, the Captain's come like the answer to our prayers!”

Rachel bit her lip and, abandoning pretence, said quietly, “I'll not have him risk his life to correct my foolish mistake.”

“Oh—miss!” Agatha paled. “You never think—? Oh, my lor'! You're right! I never thought— But monseigneur would kill any man who tried to take you from him!” She gave a wail of fright. “Oh, help! Whatever is to become of us?”

With a confidence she was far from feeling, Rachel reached out to take the abigail's trembling hands. “We will go home, Agatha. I promise you. Somehow. But—not this way. Promise me you will tell Raoul.”

Her eyes tearful, Agatha nodded. “I promise!”

*   *   *

Tristram reached the stableyard only a moment before Rachel. He turned when he heard her light steps and strode to meet her, hat in hand. “Good morning, Miss Rachel,” and, arming himself against her radiant beauty, said, “I hope you will forgive my appearance. The groom of the chambers does his best, but—” he shrugged wryly.

The bottle green jacket might not ideally complement the blue pantaloons, but Rachel saw him through the eyes of love and thought him superb. His whimsical grin made her heart turn over, and it was with a great effort that she merely nodded, walked past him, and called, “Raoul, would you assist me to mount?”

Tristram said nothing, and his face wooden, Raoul hastened to throw her into the saddle. Tristram mounted with a lithe swing that spoke of the cavalryman and deferred the lead to Rachel. She was silent as they rode down the hill, bearing gradually northward, nor did she utter more than simple commonplaces until they had left house, hill and gardens far behind, and were crossing rolling meadowland with not another soul in sight. Then, drawing her horse to a walk, she nerved herself and asked, “Tristram—why are you here?”

“I might ask you the same,” he countered gravely.

“Surely you know the answer to that. I am come to visit my future home.”

“And that is all?”

“I don't follow you.”

“Do you not?” He rode closer, jaw set and eyes flashing. “For God's sake, Rachel! Don't fence with me. You must know what Sanguinet is!”

She lifted her brows, said a cool, “Of course,” and could have wept because of the disgust that chased a momentary shock from his eyes.

“And—knowing the man is a rake, a libertine, a murderous and unscrupulous schemer,” he said relentlessly, “knowing this, you yet would wed him?”

She felt lashed by his scorn and found it so hard to speak that her voice was a trifle shrill when she answered. “How very melodramatic you make it sound. Claude is not like that—to me. He has been a kind and generous gentleman.”

“Indeed, ma'am? How odd that I'd formed the impression he is not a gentleman in any sense of the word. And that when first I arrived, I'd fancied you most eager to return home.”

“Only because you said Justin was there! I mean—that has nothing to do with my marriage. I shall be wed very soon.”

“In France?”

“What? Well, possibly.” His eyes were so chill, so disdainful. As they should be, of course, but she was wounded despite herself, and began to panic. “
Very
possibly,” she reiterated. “And I really do not see, Captain, by what right you question me.”

“Your pardon.” He gave a slight, mocking bow. “It merely appeared strange to me, for when I was at Strand Hall, Mrs. Hayward had no notion that your plans had so drastically changed.” Watching her from under his lashes, he saw dismay flash across her face, and murmured, “But I imagine that you have by now advised your brother.”

“Justin? Oh, is he really there?” Her hand came out with her old sweet impetuosity to grasp his sleeve; she asked eagerly, “Have you actually seen him, then? I thought it all a sham to get you here.”

Despite himself, he could not restrain the hand that flashed to cover her own. “If you thought it a sham, and if there is no cause for melodrama, why did you aid my deception? You knew I was well recovered when we parted!”

“So it
was
a pose!” She drew away from the perilous delight of his touch. “Justin is not at Strand Hall. Claude will hear of it, and what he will do, I dare not think. You had best leave as soon as may be, and—”

“And you have not answered me,” he said grimly.

“You know perfectly well that with Gerard looking, and thinking—” Flustered, she broke off. “As to aiding you—all I did was to name you Captain—which may very well be true, no?”

“No, ma'am. In point of fact, my rank is Colonel.”

He spoke in his usual quiet drawl, but searching his face Rachel read confirmation there. Perhaps because she was desperately afraid and seemed so ringed about by the deep waters of insincerity and deception, the fear came that he too deceived her, and she shrank a little, whispering, “
Colonel?
Oh—who
are
you?”

“That, alas, is still denied me. But—why so fearful? Do you think I mean to thrust a spoke in the wheel of your betrothed?” He smiled thinly. “You would be perfectly correct.”

“And you would be mad to attempt it!” Then, spurred by the sardonic glint in his eyes, she asked, “What do you mean to do?”

“Two things. Firstly, get into that top floor of his, and—”

“No! Oh, no! You
cannot!
The door to the upper flight of stairs is kept locked. Only Claude has the key. And besides, the servants are all about. It would be suicide!”

She had spoken too frantically. A curiosity crept into his eyes. “Why? I understood you to say I was being ‘melodramatic.'” Her eyes dropped, and regarding her wistfully, he said in a softer tone, “How very kind in you to be so concerned. I knew somehow, after all that has passed between us, you could not—”

She had lost her poise and her pose and, aware of it, reacted too hastily. “You should also know, sir, that more has passed between my betrothed and me!” She realized belatedly how crude that sounded, and her cheeks flamed. An arrested expression came into Tristram's face and, knowing she had gone too far, she blundered on. “You—you go beyond the line, Captain. My personal affairs are—”

He transferred the reins to his left hand, reached out suddenly and seized her wrist in an iron grip, pulling her close to him. “There's a deal more at stake here than your personal affairs, my girl! But—by God!—if I thought— Look at me!” Her wrist was jerked relentlessly. “Now—tell me that you mean to become the bride of that treacherous, conniving little worm! Say it! Swear it!”

He was so close, so very dear. Everything faded save for those compelling dark eyes. Mesmerized by his nearness, yearning to submit to his mastery, she gasped faintly, “I … mean to—to wed that conniving little—”

“Hello! Hello, there!”