Castle of Secrets (14 page)

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Authors: Amanda Grange

Tags: #Gothic, #Fiction

BOOK: Castle of Secrets
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‘It’s all
rather daunting,’ said
Helena
. ‘Did Mrs Carlisle find it so?’

‘Bless you no,
she’d arranged a dozen balls for his lordship.’

‘If only I had
her sister’s address, I could write to her and ask her for her advice.’

‘You wouldn’t
want to bother her, not with her sister being so ill,’ said Mrs Beal. ‘And
besides, you’ve no need to worry. It will all come right in the end.’

 

As
Helena
set out for the village after
luncheon she was glad to leave the castle behind. She felt herself being drawn
deeper and deeper into its tangled world, but Lord Torkrow and his family had
nothing to do with her. She had come to the castle for one reason and one
reason only: she wanted to find her aunt.

The day was
fine, with a weak sun shining out of a blue sky, and she was pleased to see
that there was no threat of rain. It was three miles to the village, across the
moors, so she set off at a brisk pace. Hardy sheep were grazing, and she was
glad of their bleating, which broke the silence and made the walk less lonely.

As she
approached the turning to Mary’s cottage, she decided to take it and pay Mary a
call. She longed for someone to confide in, someone outside the castle, who was
immune to its strange atmosphere and past. Perhaps Mary could shed some insight
on to her aunt’s disappearance.

The rough
track was dry, unlike the last time she had visited, when the rain had turned
it to mud, and was much easier to walk on. She soon found herself outside the
cottage, and knocked on the door. It was opened by the maid, but
Helena
quickly learnt that
neither Mary nor her brother were at home, and that the maid did not know when
they would be back.

Helena
swallowed her disappointment, thanked the maid, asked for Mr and Miss Debbet to
be told that she had called, and carried on to the village. As she approached, 
she passed a small cottage, and then a few more, scattered haphazardly across
the harsh landscape. She passed an old woman, dressed in black, as she entered
the village, and a serious-looking little boy who was carrying a large basket
into a cottage.

Helena
greeted them with a ‘Good
afternoon,’ but they did not reply, instead favouring her with suspicious
looks.

The village
was larger than she had expected, and better favoured. It was sheltered from
the prevailing wind by being built in a hollow of the moors, and it consisted
of a collection of cottages and houses, with an inn at one end and a church at
the other. Next to the church was a large, square stone building which
Helena
took to be the rectory.
It was set back from the road, and separated from it by a low stone wall. There
was a white painted gate which creaked as
Helena
opened it, and a stone path snaked
between barren borders to the door.

Helena
lifted the brass knocker,
which fell with a satisfying clunk, and a minute later the door was opened by
an elderly maid.

‘I am Mrs
Reynolds, the new housekeeper at the castle,’ said
Helena
. ‘I’d like to see Mrs Willis.’

The maid
showed her into the hall. It was well cared for, and
Helena
took pleasure in seeing a house she
did not have the responsibility of cleaning. The living was perhaps not
wealthy, but it seemed to keep the rector and his wife in some comfort. The
hall was painted a muted green, and there was a rug on the polished
floorboards, whilst a staircase led upwards on the left.

The maid
returned. ‘Mrs Willis says, “Please come in.”’

‘Thank you,’
said
Helena
, as the maid helped her
off with her cloak.

She went into
the drawing-room. Whilst the hall had been plain, here there were pretensions
of gentility. There was gold wallpaper on the walls, a brocade sofa, and an
inlaid console table beneath the window. On it was a vase of fine porcelain,
matched by two others of similar design on the mantelpiece. The candlesticks
were of silver, and there was a good painting hanging above it. A square piano
was set against the far wall, and a brocade-covered stool was set in front of
it. A fire was burning in the grate, and the fire irons gleamed in the light of
the flames.

Mrs Willis
stood up. Her dress was simple yet well cut, and to
Helena
’s surprise, it was made of silk.

‘Mrs Reynolds,
how very nice to meet you,’ she said in a cultured voice. ‘My husband and I
heard there was to be a new housekeeper at the castle. It is not before time. I
dread to think how his lordship has managed without one. Won’t you sit down?’

Helena
thanked her and took a
seat.

‘I have come
to ask for your help,’ said
Helena
. ‘I will need some maids to assist me in the castle, and as
you know the neighbourhood and the people I thought you might be able to help
me find some suitable girls.’

‘Ah, yes, I
received your note.’

‘When I wrote
it, I needed only two girls, but as I now need more help, footmen as well as
maids, I thought it better to come and see you in person. I understand that the
two girls who worked at the castle under Mrs Carlisle left in a hurry. It is a
great pity. It would have been much easier for me if they had remained,’ she
said, hoping to learn more about it.

Mrs Willis’s
face expressed her exasperation.

‘The people
round here are very insular,’ she said. ‘They have their prejudices and their
superstitions. They mutter and whisper about Lord Torkrow, poor man, as they
would mutter and whisper about anyone who lived in a castle. And the stories
they tell about the castle itself! You would think it was unsafe to spend half
an hour within its walls, the way some of them talk!’

Helena
was reassured by Mrs
Willis’s disgusted manner: she, at least, did not appear to think ill of Lord
Torkrow.

‘I suppose it
is understandable,’ said
Helena
. ‘The girls heard crying in the attic. The footman believed
it to be a cat, but the girls were convinced that something dreadful had
happened.’

‘Exactly! That
is just the sort of story I’m talking about. As if anything dreadful
would
happen.’

‘It was
sparked by the housekeeper’s disappearance, I believe,’ said
Helena
. ‘I suppose an incident
like that was bound to cause gossip. A servant does not usually leave without
giving notice.’

‘There was
nothing suspicious about it. The poor woman left for a very ordinary reason, to
tend her sick sister.’

‘Did she not
leave in the middle of the night? Or is that just another tale?’

‘No, that is
true, and of course, that fuelled the talk, but again there was a sensible
reason for it. There is a stage coach to
London
early in the morning. I imagine she
wanted to make an early start.’

‘Ah, I didn’t
know her sister lived in
London
,’ said
Helena
.

‘I don’t know
that she does’ said Mrs Willis. ‘That is the stagecoach’s ultimate destination,
but it stops a number of times on the way. Of course, Mrs Carlisle could also
have gone north, in which case she would have caught the stagecoach to
Edinburgh
, which passes a little
later.’

‘Have you
heard from her?’ asked
Helena
, with more hope than confidence.

‘No. I did not
know her very well. We saw each other at church; a very sensible woman, well
spoken and an asset to the congregation. I helped her to find staff for the
castle, but other than that I did not speak to her. I am only sorry I did not
find her some girls with more common sense.’

‘Do you think
they would return to the castle now that I am there?’ asked
Helena
. ‘It would be a great
help to have girls who know their way about.’

‘Perhaps.
There is little work round here. I will try to persuade them to come and see
you, and if not then I will try to find you some other girls. You said that you
needed more than two?’

‘Yes. His
lordship means to go ahead with the costume ball, so I will need as much help
as possible.’

‘It is to go
ahead? Oh, I’m so pleased,’ she said with a spark of excitement in her eye. ‘My
husband and I have already chosen our costumes. We are to go as King Henry VIII
and Katharine of Aragon. I have the costumes left over from another ball,’ she
explained. ‘My husband has put on weight since then, and I have spent the last
few weeks letting his costume out. I am so glad my work will not go to waste.’

‘Are the balls
generally large? I haven’t had time to look at the guest list yet,’ said
Helena
.

‘Oh, yes,
everyone from the surrounding neighbourhood is invited. They all look forward
to the ball. It is a big event, in fact it is the biggest event we have in this
village. The castle is something to be seen when it is
en fete
. The
light pours out of the windows, and then there is the music! The orchestra is
always excellent. And the food! You don’t need me to tell you that Mrs Beal is
an excellent cook, and on these occasions she always surpasses herself.
Carriages roll up in front of the castle by the dozen, and everyone wears the
most wonderful costumes. There is a great deal of imagination brought into
play, and although there are always a few duplications, the local gentry for
the most part try and find  a more unusual character to portray.’

‘Miss Fairdean
and her mother have already ordered their costumes. They were at the castle
yesterday,’
Helena
explained.

‘Yes, the
Fairdeans always make a special effort where the castle is concerned. They will
be having their costumes made in
London
, I expect, complete with wigs and jewels. They will be
portraying royalty, I’ve no doubt. One year, Miss Fairdean dressed as Elizabeth
I. With her red hair, she looked the part. Her mother must have spent a fortune
on her dress. It was encrusted with pearls. I suppose she thought it was worth
it. There was some talk that his lordship would marry Miss Fairdean – I believe
his mother, as well as hers, wished it - but nothing has come of it.  Miss
Fairdean is not well liked in the neighbourhood,’ she went on. ‘She is very
rude to her servants, and indeed to most of her neighbours. She seems to think
she is above them. She said to me . . . ’ She stopped herself, as if
remembering to whom she was speaking. ‘There was no call for it.’

Helena
waited, hoping she would
say more, but Mrs Willis was silent. Then, with the appearance of a woman
turning her thoughts into new channels by an act of will, she continued.

‘We will be
seeing you at church, I hope? His lordship never comes, but Mrs Carlisle used
to attend regularly, as long as the weather was fine enough for her to walk.
She was a great supporter of the church. It was a pity she was all alone in the
world, with no one to miss her when she was gone.’

Helena
felt a shock at the
unexpected words.
No one to miss her
.

‘She had a
niece, I believe?’ she said quickly. ‘Mrs Beal said Mrs Carlisle wrote to her
niece regularly.’

‘I didn’t know
that,’ said Mrs Willis slowly.

‘And then, of
course, she had a sister,’ said
Helena
.

‘Oh, yes, her
sister,’ said Mrs Willis dismissively.

Helena
was disquieted. There was
something decidedly odd about Mrs Willis’s manner.

The
conversation moved on, but as Mrs Willis spoke about other parishioners,
Helena
watched her covertly.
Strange stories came back to her, stories of people who disappeared
mysteriously in remote places, innocent-seeming locals who were not what they
appeared . . .

The chiming of
the clock broke her thoughts, and she returned to her senses. Mrs Willis was
now talking about the village girls in the most matter-of-fact way, and the
idea of her being mixed up in a strange disappearance seemed ridiculous.

It seemed even
more ridiculous when, a few minutes later, the Rev Mr Willis entered the room.
He was a stout, kindly looking man with white whiskers, and the idea of him
being mixed up in anything untoward seemed even more ridiculous than his wife’s
involvement.

‘This is Mrs
Reynolds,’ said Mrs Willis, performing the introductions. After a few minutes
of polite conversation, she said: ‘I will do what I can for you in the village,
and I will send any willing workers to see you at the castle.’

Helena
thanked her then, having
taken her leave of them, she reclaimed her outdoor clothes and set out.

The day had
turned colder, but it was dry, and within the hour
Helena
found herself once more approaching
the castle. She was pleased that she had made arrangements to acquire more
staff, but disappointed that she had learnt nothing of use about her aunt.

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