Nell (20 page)

‘I could not wish anyone to break a vow, I suppose.’

He turned to find Nell examining her surroundings with a critical eye. Jarrow could not blame her. ‘Vows are made to be broken.’

Nell looked at him. That bitter note again? He must have had enough of shattered vows. ‘If they are not solemn, perhaps.’

He threw off his sombre mood. ‘I should employ you for my manager, Miss Faraday, rather than a governess. Have you any more advice for me?’

She laughed. ‘Besides selling the house?’

‘If I could find someone to buy it!’

‘There can be no difficulty about that. It is a pleasant place, if a trifle unwieldy. Although it is obviously too big and expensive for your present circumstances, it is just the place for some jumped-up tradesman wishing to lionize.’

‘Now why didn’t I think of that?’

‘You had not thought of selling at all,’ Nell reminded him. With a gleam of fun, she added, ‘And once you have disposed of it, I know exactly what you should do.’

There was distrust in his face. ‘Indeed?’

‘The castle, my lord. On no account think of being rid of it. Instead you must fill it with ancient armour and weapons—in fact, all the historical memorabilia you can find—and turn it into a museum. Which, when all is said and done, is all it is fit for!’

Nell warmed to his laughter, and the lifting of the shadows in his face. His tone was dry. ‘I thank you, Nell Faraday. Should the time ever come, I shall not hesitate to seek your no doubt expert assistance.’

It was but a short respite. Before long, Lord Jarrow
pointed out that they must leave now if they were not to be late for dinner. He turned to call out to Henrietta, and Nell could only be glad he was not looking at her. If her features reflected the dulling in her breast, he would see how little she wanted the interlude to end. She would not have suspected that the thought of returning to the castle, with all its mysteries and pain, had the power to depress her. Or was it that outside it she had been, for just an instant, something more to Lord Jarrow than the governess?

Nell would not have believed, a couple of days earlier, that she could feel this restless. Had she not made up her mind that her presence was necessary to protect Henrietta, she believed she must have given in to despair and left Castle Jarrow. She tossed again in her bed, shifting her limbs in a bid to drive out the devils in her womb. Oh, that fatal kiss!

Again and again she had pounded the Duck’s warnings into her unwilling brain. Nell had never a suspicion that the lady’s vast store of wisdom could become useless in the face of the unrelenting longings that physically wracked her in these nightly raids. Yet the warnings had been truer than she knew. She had given in to temptation, and the consequences were shattering. He had begun it, but Nell knew she had been remiss in not pushing him away at once. As if she could have done so! She had never been less in control in her life. And all at the hands of a man who might well have disposed of his own wife.

At that moment, Nell had forgotten all of it. His moods, the tortures of his past, and the wholly unsettled question of Lord Nobody—even now, these matters failed to change the way she felt. Indeed, she acknowl
edged guiltily, instead of being glad that his lordship showed no sign of repeating the offence, she was both chagrined and disappointed at his obvious withdrawal.

They had met only at dinner, and his manner had been reserved to the point of rudeness. His taciturnity had drawn comment even from Mr Beresford, but Nell had caught the latter sneaking surreptitious looks in her direction that made her wary that he might have guessed something of what lay between the governess and Lord Jarrow.

While she did what she might to discourage such suspicions by adopting an attitude as close to normal as possible, in the privacy of her bedchamber Nell could no longer contain her deep involvement with her employer. How it had happened she was no longer able to fathom, but she was hopelessly lost. Useless to deny that her heart was touched—she had known it these many days!—but she had not bargained for the intense physical yearning that inflamed her with the unquenchable memory of the sensations induced by the touch of his lips upon her own. Nothing in Mrs Duxford’s teachings had prepared her for the bodily ache that tugged in the confines of her secret well, presenting her with disturbing images that came from she knew not where, and forced her to recognise the dreadful truth. Despite all the doubts she had of him, she was passionately in love with Eden Jarrow.

No sooner had she reached this hideous conclusion than Nell was roused by a soft footfall outside her door. She had taken to sleeping with the curtains partially open on that side, so that she could not be taken by surprise. By the time the handle was turning, she was already out of bed. A small figure slipped quietly into the room.

About to call out the child’s name, Nell hesitated.
Henrietta had not seen her, for she walked past her and made directly for the bedside, standing there in the same manner that she had done upon the first occasion. She was sleepwalking again.

Could it be laudanum-induced? Had his lordship not spoken then to the nurse? Nell cursed herself briefly for her preoccupation. She should have made some effort to find out. Her thoughts veered as she leaned down to take the child’s hand.

If there had been laudanum in the milk, why had Hetty drunk it? Or had the commotion over her attempt to refuse it a few nights back destroyed her confidence? Perhaps she thought Nell could not prevent the nurse from giving it to her. There was no knowing what the wretched creature might have said to scare Henrietta into obedience.

She led her out of the room, and stopped short, suppressing a sharp gasp.

A little way along the corridor stood a wraithlike figure in diaphanous grey garments, with a mane of long, flowing dark hair. A face shone marble white, with features that were mere openings of mouth and eyes. It was—or was meant to resemble?—a ghost.

Nell’s heart began to thump uncomfortably, but she stoutly refused to accept it. The thing raised one white hand and beckoned, and a whisper snaked towards her, an eerie hiss in the quiet of the night.

‘Come, my love. Come, my dearest.’

Instinct caused Nell to catch at Henrietta’s shoulder.

‘No,’ she told her firmly.

‘Come, dearest. Mama wants you. Come, my love.’

The little girl struggled against Nell’s hold, and she had perforce to let her go. But she kept close behind Hetty as the ‘ghost’ turned away and floated on down
the corridor. It waited at the turn, and Nell’s breath shortened in spite of her disbelief. As they neared, it took off again and, on making the turn, Nell saw that it was disappearing through the door into the tower. Nell was disorientated, but a sixth sense warned her. As Hetty made for the door and would have followed, she seized the child and pulled her back, just before the door slammed shut. In her inner eye, Nell could see the broken interior and knew it for the same tower that she had fallen into by accident.

Who or what had tried to lure Hetty in there was a question that did not long exercise her mind. For the child had woken as she grabbed her, and was whimpering with fright. Nell soothed her as she picked her up bodily.

‘It’s all right now, little one. Nell is here. Don’t cry, Hetty.’

Without pause for thought, Nell took off with the child in the direction of Lord Jarrow’s chamber. She hoped she had judged it aright, for the incident had jarred her sense of direction. She crooned to the distressed Hetty as she went, but her mind was wholly concentrated upon reaching her employer.

Halting by the door she thought to be his, she opened it and called out.

‘Lord Jarrow! My lord? Are you there?’

No reply came. Nor could Nell, listening intently, hear any sound within. Was he asleep, or had she the wrong room? The darkness in there was impossible to penetrate.

Choosing the lesser of two evils, she proceeded along the stone corridor, bearing her burden whose tears continued to soak into Nell’s shoulder. Her eyes had become accustomed to the minimal light seeping in at the windows that let on to the courtyard. Nell negotiated the
turn and found herself near the staircase. Then she had correctly identified Lord Jarrow’s room.

She shifted the child’s weight in her arms and made to move on, but a sound from without the castle halted her. Hoofs upon the cobbles! Nell crept to the window to one side of the stairs and looked out in time to see a horseman riding in. The figure was little more than a silhouette, but it had the same look she had seen weeks ago when one of the gentlemen had ridden out.

A figure detached itself from the shadows at the side of the house and went to the horse’s head. Detling again? The rider dismounted. Nell heard a murmur of voices and then whoever it was entered by a side door, leaving the groom to take care of his mount.

Nell became aware of increased weight and discovered that Henrietta had fallen asleep. Through the turmoil in her mind, she found the way to the child’s bedchamber, hastening her pace. Better if she was not found loitering here. If she had intended to accost Lord Jarrow, she could not do it now. He had been out in the night, and she could no longer doubt it was he. For Mr Beresford, without any doubt at all, had been busy playing at ghosts only a few moments since.

She soon had the little girl safely back between sheets. But there was no question of leaving her, for Hetty awoke again and it was evident that the child was terrified.

‘Mama comed back. Don’t go, Miss Fallyday, or Mama come back again.’

Inwardly cursing the miscreants who had inculcated this belief, Nell reassured her charge, and quickly slipped into the bed beside her. She fell asleep with the plump little body pressed closely into her own.

It had taken a deal of courage for Nell to request the interview. But her employer’s tactic to create distance, though hurtful, proved efficacious. He had bade her take a seat at the table near the window, and placed himself several paces from her at the end of the parlour, resting a hand on the mantelshelf above the fireplace. The black garb emphasised the pallor of his countenance, causing Nell to feel chilled, though the day was warm.

She banished the little pain engendered by Lord Jarrow’s tight-lipped refusal to give any sign of remembering the intimacy they had shared. Nell did not believe it to be forgotten, but she was forced to recognise that he wished it so. Since she had herself suggested they forget it, she could not blame him for that. Nevertheless, the icy front was distressing. It was a far cry from that fatal outing, and her resumption of plainer garb—the brown calico had never before felt drab!—increased the gap that yawned between them.

He was apparently unmoved by her recital of the night’s events. ‘You would have me believe that someone is pretending to be my late wife’s ghost?’

‘I certainly don’t expect you to believe that your wife’s ghost is walking the castle!’

Lord Jarrow stiffened, and his glance flicked away, and then returned. ‘You saw this apparition up close?’

‘It was not an apparition, sir. Give me a nightgown, a mask and the correct type of wig, and I will engage to present a like appearance.’ Nell thought a faint amusement gleamed in his eye, and was a little cheered. ‘My lord Jarrow, I am not here concerned with the effect upon me, but upon Henrietta. She was sleepwalking at the time, but it is evident that she saw it, for she believes that it was her mother, and is severely frightened.’ Al
most as an afterthought she added, ‘I had no idea they would go to such lengths.’

He took her up at once. ‘Who is they? Who is it you suspect?’

Nell hesitated. If she told him, she must disclose everything she knew. ‘The same person—or perhaps I should say persons—who have done all the rest. I don’t pretend to understand their purpose.’

He hit the mantelpiece with the flat of his hand. ‘Hell and the devil, Nell! Are you going to make an accusation, or are you not?’

She was betrayed into retort. ‘I would, if only I could be sure of you, Eden!’

Nell regretted it at once, for he went white. ‘That again? Why don’t you come right out with it and call me a murderer? That is what you meant, isn’t it?’

She got up swiftly. ‘What am I to think? You were out last night, for I saw you! I came to your room with Hetty and you weren’t there. Then I saw a man ride in, and I knew it must have been you.’

‘You think I killed her.’ Suppressed violence under the half-whispered words.

Nell could not endure it. ‘I don’t! I think nothing of the kind.’

‘But you are not certain.’

She was silent.

He turned away, fixing his gaze upon the portrait. A defeated note entered his voice. ‘After all, why should you trust me? You know nothing of my life, and I don’t doubt you have heard enough to horrify you. From my own lips, too,’ he added, turning to look at her.

The protest was dragged from Nell. ‘Eden, I want to believe in you! Only you are so extremely sensitive that I can’t open my mouth without you taking it amiss. And
you had doubted me, with less reason.’ He said nothing, and Nell continued more moderately, ‘Perhaps you think I imagined the ghost as well.’

He was no longer looking at her. ‘No, I don’t think that.’

She regarded his profile with dawning suspicion. ‘I believe you know more than you allow me to believe,’ she said slowly. ‘You cannot have been ignorant of such things if, as I suppose, they had been going on before I came.’

Jarrow knew not how to reply to this. She was all too shrewd. He did not himself know why he was reluctant to open up to her. Why the secrecy? If Toly was playing at ghosts now, then he must have doubled back last night. Had his brother-in-law seen him following and fooled him on purpose? Or had it been a ruse to draw him out of the house?

Which presupposed that there was something in Nell’s suspicions. Yet the seriousness of his dilemma made him reluctant to say anything. Better, perhaps, that she suspected him. She must not become involved.

Lurking at the back of his mind was the thought that such an involvement must inevitably lead to a commitment he was not equipped to make. It had been difficult enough to hold off from her. That one taste of her lips had roused such a demon of want in him that he knew not how to subdue it, save by keeping her at a distance. Hell and the devil, but he could not drag her into this! The more he allowed Nell Faraday into his inner life, the less he would be capable of allowing her out of it. And that was unfair.