Skylark (38 page)

They made their way to the wooden jetty and along to a fishing smack and a cheerful fellow called Ham Pisley, who helped them aboard. Laura looked back for a moment at the fire, hardly able to believe that it was so little time since she and Stephen had been making love in that inn.

It was mostly a blackened skeleton now, angry red in places, with flames still licking hungrily in search of new food. The adjacent buildings had been saved, thank God, and as far as she knew, no lives had been lost.

She went into a cabin that was small but comfortably appointed. There was a narrow bunk, and she encouraged Juliet to collapse onto it, Harry beside her, tucked against the wall.

Laura turned into Stephen’s arms and rested against him. “You must be as tired as I am.”

His arms were strong around her. “We will cope. We’re alive and betrothed, yes?”

She looked up and smiled. “Yes.”

“So this is perfect.”

“No,” she said with a chuckle, “but it will do for now.”

“You lost your wig somewhere.”

She put her hand to her head. “Perish it. Ah, well. I’m too tired to try to piece together a story to cover all this.”

“As am I.” He kissed her. “I have to get Farouk and HG, then we’ll be off.”

“You’re a hero. I’m not sure I can keep my eyes open.”

“You gave up the bed, which makes you a heroine.” He opened some cupboards and found an extra mattress. It was thin, but Laura gratefully sank down onto it.

“Definitely a hero,” she said, her eyes closing even as she felt him tuck an extra blanket around her.

“Jack started the fire,” she managed to mumble.

“I suspected as much. He was here under a false name—Mr. John Dyer, if you can believe it—so we might be able to slither through it all without connection to the Gardeynes.”

She probably should discuss it, come up with plans, consider what all this meant to Harry’s future, but instead she surrendered to sleep.

Laura was only blearily aware of landing and being carried to some sort of vehicle for a rather rough ride. Then she was carried again to a bed, and knew no more until opening her eyes to daylight.

She, Harry, and Juliet were in a large bed in a large bedchamber that seemed to be decorated in a pale, classical style. One wall was taken up by a mural of St. George and the dragon. Strange, but not as peculiar as she’d been led to fear. A fire burned in the massive hearth, but the room still had a chilly feel and perhaps even a touch of moldy disuse.

Laura sat up, careful not to wake the others, and smiled. Clothing! There was a small pile of boy’s garments, and spread over the backs of two chairs, ladies’ garments. She slipped out of the bed to inspect the treasure. Juliet would not be thrilled. Both dresses were of a severe gray and plain cut, and the shifts, stockings, and corsets, while white, matched. The housekeeper’s clothes? Or was there a Puritan in the house? Laura didn’t mind. She was used to mourning dullness, anyway, and any decent clothing was a treasure.

In fact, dull might be excellent today, as her father would arrive demanding explanations. What could she tell him that would make sense of all this?

Then she remembered last night deciding to tell him the truth, or almost all of it, and her heart eased. Her dislike of lying made her a very poor conspirator, but Stephen had agreed.

And they were to marry.

She went to the window and looked down on an enclosed garden. From the season, and perhaps from neglect, it was not a thing of beauty, but it could be made pleasant. Some sort of fountain stood in the center, dry and unused.

They were to marry.

Memories of the night, of the earlier part of the night and their lovemaking, swept over her, making her smile and hug herself. She rubbed her hands up and down a body whose appetites had been stimulated rather than sated even by those intense hours of pleasure.

It had been a kind of madness to go to him. She’d known it at the time. And a kind of wickedness. But she’d lost the will to resist, the will to be restrained and sensible. Apart from any need of Harry’s, she’d realized that she wanted Stephen more desperately than she’d wanted anything in her life and could not bear to part in case she might lose him.

But she’d had to warn him. After that last kiss, she’d thought she knew him, knew him to be passionate, but she’d also known that they would make a sour marriage if he preferred modest propriety in a wife, even in private. She simply couldn’t do it. She’d enjoyed a lusty marriage, and the fires of desire burned fiercely in her.

She smiled, and perhaps she blushed. No doubt now that he was an equally lusty man, and skilled. More skilled than Hal in ways, because he had more control and patience. Perhaps even because he was more clever. She’d never before appreciated the wonders of a brilliant lover. . . .

She shook herself. She couldn’t spend the day mooning over Stephen, and much more of this and she’d be hunting him down to leap on him in passion!

And their life would not be totally smooth. She brought trouble as her dowry. She turned to look at Harry, sleeping so innocently, sprawled on his back. Wicked to wish Jack dead of his wounds, but she did. It would make everything so much simpler.

There was no clock here, and the Crag Wyvern walls made it difficult to judge the hour from the sun, but it was not particularly early. Time to be up and about and find out what was happening. The first requirement was washing water. They were all grubby and smelt slightly of smoke.

She inspected the room. There was a door in one wall, but it was locked. Another opened into the corridor, and that did startle her.

The corridor was gloomy because the only light came from the arrow slits Stephen had mentioned. The walls appeared to be rough stone with green spots that indicated damp. When she touched one, however, she realized it was all paint. Trompe l’oeil.

Kerslake had said the previous earl was mad. If this was his work, he’d certainly been eccentric. There were even weapons hanging at regular intervals along the wall, and they weren’t a trick of paint.

She retreated back to the classical setting. She’d have to keep a close eye on Harry. This place might frighten him, and heaven knows what other peculiarities it contained.

She found the bellpull and tugged on it, wondering about Stephen’s complex plans. Hadn’t Kerslake implied that they’d been put into effect? Could the Delaneys already be here? That would mean she could spin the story they’d prepared. . . .

She pushed the temptation aside.

A bone-thin maid with wide, pale eyes came in carrying a large, steaming jug of water. She put it on the washstand and curtsied nervously. “Will there be anything else, mum?”

She looked like a scared, emaciated sheep.

“Do you know what other guests are in the house?” Laura asked. “And where breakfast will be available?”

The young woman blinked. “Mr. Kerslake’s here, mum, and Mr. Delaney, and a Sir Stephen Ball, and two other gentlemen what I don’t know the names of, mum. And you, mum, and the lady and the lad in the bed there. I think that’s it, and breakfast’s in the breakfast room, mum!”

The maid came to the end of her recitation, looking as if she’d just attempted a test. Then she gasped, dug into a pocket, and produced a folded piece of paper.

“Mr. Kerslake said to give you this, mum! It’s a map, on account of there’s short ways and long ways here, see, and you’d probably better not take the short ways. And he said to say sorry if the skeleton scares your little boy.”

Laura was struggling with laughter and perplexity, but she managed a sober “Thank you,” and the maid left.

Shaking her head, she unfolded the paper to find a hand-drawn map of two levels of Crag Wyvern. The place was a square with the garden in the middle. The rooms all looked into the garden and corridors ran around the outside wall. A cross marked the George and the Dragon Room on the upper floor. Another marked a drawing room on the ground floor. That sounded pleasantly normal, but she’d believe it when she saw it.

Not far from the drawing room was the breakfast parlor, which also sounded normal. Perhaps the peculiarities were kept for the upper, more private floor.

There were circular staircases in each corner of the building, but she was directed by arrows past one of those to a wide, straight staircase down to the hall.

Lady Skylark stirred, suggesting that the inadvisable spiral staircase might be fun, but responsible Laura shooed her away.

“What’s that?” Juliet asked sleepily. “And where are we?”

“Crag Wyvern, for which we apparently need a map.” She handed over the paper.

Juliet sat up, rubbing her eyes, and took it. She chuckled. “Extraordinary and intriguing.”

“You can explore later. For now, we’d best be up and dressed—we have clothing—and meet the others to sort all this out.” She faced her sister. “I’m going to tell the truth, Ju.”

“Oh, good. I don’t see how I could keep a story straight that would cover all of this.”

They shared a smile, then washed and helped each other to dress. Juliet, as expected, grumbled about the plain gowns, but she was only teasing. Laura realized that though she’d be dressed again in plain clothes, she didn’t have to wear a disguise. Tidying her hair in the mirror around her familiar features was a delight. No hairpins had been provided, however, so she had to leave her hair loose, as did Juliet.

“We look like girls again.”

“From a very severe school.”

Harry woke up, wide-eyed. “Where are we, Mama?”

She went to lift him out of the bed. “In the castle I told you about. It’s called Crag Wyvern, and it might be a little bit frightening, but there’s nothing here that can hurt you.”

As she said that, she remembered the weapons. Yes, Harry would have to be under someone’s eye all the time.

When she put him down, he ran over to the picture. “That’s a scary dragon,” he said, looking not at all alarmed. “
Roar!
”

Laura laughed, delighted that he seemed no worse for his adventures.

All the same, when he was clean and dressed and they were about to leave the room, she took his hand. “This is a castle, Harry, so the corridors are dark and a little frightening, but you are safe with us.”

To her surprise, from the security of her company, Harry was thrilled by the gloom and the weapons. The skeleton hanging in one corner, close to the arch into the forbidden stairs, was a particular wonder.

“A real little Gardeyne,” Laura said to Juliet. “No wandering here, Harry. You must stay with an adult at all times.”

The recommended wide stone staircase led down to a baronial hall full of dark oak furniture and hung with enough medieval weaponry for a small army. Harry was wide-eyed and had to be towed along to the breakfast room, which clearly disappointed him, though it was hardly in normal modern style. Instead it made Laura think of a medieval refectory with its white walls and long oak table, but it was of moderate size and lacking blades other than table knives.

Food was clearly some compensation, however, as he ran to the table and climbed into a chair. One next to Stephen, in fact. Harry looked at him and said, “Good morning, sir. There’s a dragon in my room.
Roar!
”

Everyone laughed, but Laura said, “No more animal noises at table, Harry.”

She had the choice of a seat beside Harry or beside Stephen. With regret, she sat beside her son, but the smile she and Stephen shared was almost enough for now. She had to suppress another smile because though he was normally dressed, it was not to his usual standards. She suspected the clothes were Kerslake’s, and he had a taste for country clothes as well as being more heavily built. All the same, Stephen gave them an elegance they’d probably not known before.

She gathered her wits and introduced the other men—Nicholas Delaney and David Kerslake—to Harry and her sister.

“My apologies about the map,” Kerslake said, “but there’s only a small staff here at the moment, and mostly unused to serving guests. I’m still living at my uncle’s house nearby, Kerslake Manor.”

As Stephen was Stephen and Nicholas Nicholas, Kerslake was soon David, even to Juliet, who looked delighted with all this informality. In fact, she was looking delighted with everything. She’d always enjoyed handsome men.

They settled to reviewing their strategies.

“Eleanor and Arabel are at Kerslake Manor,” Nicholas said. “We thought the Crag might be a bit much for her yet. Perhaps Harry would like to go down there.”

Laura looked at her son, who was building a tower from “logs” of toast supplied by ingenious Stephen. “You’re right. He will become bored soon, but I doubt he’ll want to leave me.”

“He’ll go with me,” said Juliet, giving Laura a wry smile. “Yes, I’d like to stay, but this is your adventure, not mine.” She turned to David. “Are there animals at the manor?”

“Certainly. Even ponies small enough for him to ride.”

Harry looked up. “Ponies?”

Juliet came round the table. “Ponies. Come along, pet. Mama will join us soon.”

Harry gave Laura a doubtful glance, and she had to admit that she was pleased he was less careless about parting from her this time. She gave him a hug. “It’s not far, Minnow, and I’ll join you there soon.”

He hugged her back tightly. “Promise?”

“Promise, sweetheart.”

With that assurance, he slid off the chair, took Juliet’s hand, and towed her away, already chattering about ponies.

They all chuckled, and Laura found his happiness didn’t hurt. He didn’t love her less for being happy to go with others, and thanks be to God, he was in no special danger at the moment. Jack Gardeyne was not plotting harm right now.

She was about to ask about Jack when Stephen said, “We have to assume that your father and perhaps Ned will be here soon.” He met her eyes. “It probably would be best to tell him the truth.”