Lord Beast (2 page)

Although dark, Dani liked to
picture the countryside just as it would be were the sun up. Rolling green
hills descended towards the ocean, dotted with trees and little brown roads.
And then, right on the edge, Falmouth Castle. An abandoned, monstrous creation
of beauty and wonder, it looked over the ocean soberly, keeping a solemn,
melancholy watch over the tumultuous waters. A gothic sentinel for passing
ships…

Dani studied its dark spires,
admiring the sleek design and history of the monument. Oh, she would love to
explore there one day. It was said to be abandoned but how anyone could leave
such a wondrous home was beyond her. But if it were abandoned-

Wait. Was that… a light? A small,
orange rectangle suddenly appeared in one of the eastern spires of the castle.
A light? Surely… that could only mean it wasn’t abandoned?  Or somebody had
taken vacancy there illegally- a vagrant.

Well, Dani huffed, that certainly
would not do. She’d not watch some loathsome person make such a beautiful
monument derelict. Seeing that she wasn’t going to get any more sleep that
night anyway and her aunt and uncle were soundly unconscious, Dani made a quick
decision and hurriedly went to her wardrobe.

It was easily an hour’s walk to
the castle, half an hour if she walked fast, she reasoned as she pulled on a
black day dress, the colour significant for the mourning period due to her
deceased mother. God knew she couldn’t take a horse and a carriage absolutely
played havoc on her spine, so she would have to walk. It wouldn’t be so bad if
she kept to the roads and didn’t dally, which she never did. Danielle
Carmichael didn’t have an idle bone in her body.

Hastily, she threw on a cloak and
her boots before quietly flying out of the cottage and heading towards the
Falmouth Castle.

The castle was even bigger up
close than from her bedroom window.

Dani’s head was thrown back as
she stared up at the towers, the arches, the dark forbidding spires. It was
breath-taking, awe-inspiring… never had she seen the likes before.

She perched on the threshold of
the great doors, debating whether the situation called for her to knock or not.
If there was somebody here, she would surely be intruding. However, if he or
she wasn’t meant to be here in the first place, then it was they who were the
intruders, not she. Oh, blast. What a dilemma.

Deciding on the safer option,
Dani raised her fist, hesitated imperceptibly, and rapped sharply. She held her
breath for several seconds in anticipation.

Nothing.

She tapped her foot impatiently.

Deciding it wise to be prudish,
she knocked again but harder.

Several seconds passed but there
was still no answer. Snorting in a manner that was decidedly unladylike, she
pushed the heavy door open. It swung backwards with a mighty groan and emitted
Dani into a dark hallway.

She couldn’t make heads or tails
of anything and squinted into the darkness for something that would provide a
marginality of light. Searching for a foothold in the darkness, Dani reached
her arms out and tried to locate the wall. Her fingers brushed against the cool
stone and slid along until her shins bumped against something solid and
unmoveable.

Sighing at the futility of it all,
the darkness so thick and cumbersome she couldn’t begin to guess where she was,
she called out, “Hello?”

No response.

“Hello! I know somebody is here!
I saw a light! Hello?”

There was a crash from somewhere
upstairs followed by a row of growled, inarticulate voices. A twinge of
nervousness suddenly engulfed her. What if whoever was up there was a thief,
not a  vagrant? If that were so, then they would be undoubtedly dangerous and
possibly annoyed at her unprecedented arrival.

“If you are a thief, I should
warn you that I am most certainly armed!” she squeaked, rather ineffectually as
she clung to the wall like a frightened mouse.

Oh, this was ridiculous. There
was every possibility that they weren’t thieves, after all.

“Well, alright, I’m
not
armed, but still!” she stammered loudly to the ceiling. “I can be quite
dangerous when provoked!”

As a threat, Dani realised she
might be lacking. But what she lacked in force, she made up for in courage and,
having no response from upstairs, she squared her shoulders and attempted to
shove off the wall, praying that the looming shadows at the other end of the
hall was indeed a staircase.

Her suspicions were confirmed
when an illuminated peel of orange light slithered against the wall at the top
of the grand staircase, halting Dani in her tracks. Somebody was coming down!

Her heart slammed to a standstill
in her chest and she suddenly questioned the wisdom of her venturing out to an
abandoned castle in the middle of the night. Lord, she could be an idiot
sometimes! Young ladies of good blood did
not
venture out to derelict
castles in the middle of the night.

Catching her breath, she watched
the orange slither inflate and grow until a dark shadow propagated at the top
of the staircase and slowly, purposefully, began to descend towards her.

“Stop!” she yelped, very
very
afraid of this apparition.

The shadow apparently didn’t
think her words held any worth at all for it continued its descent, drawing
inexorably closer to her person.

It was then that Dani decided it
best to flee. She jerked halfway around, her body tensed for flight, when a
cold, gravelly voice lashed out at her: “Halt!”

It was unerringly hoarse, like a
growl, low and fierce and dripping with deadly authority. She couldn’t, even if
she wanted to, disobey it.

The shadow stopped at the bottom
of the steps. He seemed to be wearing an engulfing black cloak so none of his
features were distinctive except for a bare, thickly corded arm whose hand was
clenched around a candlestick.

“Who are you?” the apparition
growled.

Dani had two choices: she could
act the coward or she could take a stand. Always one to cave to her stupidity,
she chose the latter.

“Who are you?” she returned,
straightening her shoulders and facing him bravely.

The shadow took a menacing step
towards her. A mere metre separated them now and Dani squinted up into the
darkness of his hood, unable to discern anything of his countenance.

“You are trespassing,” he barked
savagely. “Who are you and why are you here?”

She did not cower but inside she
was trembling. It was astounding that she did not turn and flee into the night
he scared her so. The cloaked man seemed infinitely taller and bigger than her,
more powerful and fiercer than the most dangerous of beasts.

Feigning bravado, she folded her
arms over her breasts and gave him a good glare. “For all I know,
you
are the one trespassing! Who are
you
and why are
you
here?”

He closed the distance between
them so suddenly she had no time to react. His other hand clamped around her
upper arm with crushing force, extracting a gasp from her. “Do
not
make
the mistake of angering me,” he hissed, his warm breath brushing against her
cheeks. “I can lock you away and no one will find you again! State your
business, girl!”

His fingers dug into her arm and
the pain nearly made her dizzy. “Danielle Carmichael!” she gasped. “Please,
release me!”

He did no such thing. “Why are
you here? Who sent you?” he roared, shaking her.

She cried out in pain. “No one
sent me! I thought the place was abandoned and then I saw a light- I thought
you were a trespasser!”

With a savage curse, he released
her and she stumbled backwards. “So you thought you’d come and run me out my
own home?” he growled fiercely, derisively. “How noble of you.”

“Don’t you dare mock me!” she
snapped angrily, rubbing her arm. “I assure you my intentions were honourable
if misguided-”

“Indeed!”

“But I can see I was wrong,” she
stammered.

“Get out, Miss Carmichael!”

“Well, how-”

“Get out and don’t come back!”

Casting the shadow one last
furtive glance, she did as he commanded.

The following morning, after
breakfast, Dani took tea with her aging aunt in the sitting room. It was a
bright, crisp day and the sea was that brilliant blue she loved so much and she
could spy the ocean from the parlour room windows, as well as the dark looming
spires of Falmouth Castle.

Aunt Fiona Smith was a relation
Dani had never had the fortune to meet until after the death of her mother
three months ago. Fiona was a woman close to her eightieth year and looking
forward to days of retirement in the country with her husband rather than the
untimely burden of a ward fresh for a London Season. Oh, not that Dani was
eager to re-join the Marriage Mart. Having seen six seasons since she was
seventeen years and having no bites whatsoever in the form of marriage
proposals, she was grateful of the reprieve her mother’s death allowed her.

However, she was not grateful
that she had become the unwitting burden of an elderly couple who held no
desire to acquire a ward of their own. Now, all Dani could hope for was that
she could make herself as much of a pleasure as possible and if that meant
crocheting or embroidery for two hours of every day, then so be it.

Not that she found her aunt and
uncle lacking in company. Indeed, she found them quite pleasant and quirky and
they never once gave off the air that they didn’t want her. In fact, they were
very hospitable and Fiona had taken to Dani as a mother would… a slightly
senile, partly blind mother, that is.

“It’s a fine day today, Aunt Fiona,”
Dani remarked as she poured tea for the two of them, her gaze inexplicably
drawn the looming spires of Falmouth castle. The morning sun caught on the
elegant window panes at the topmost towers, glinting beckoningly in her line of
sight.

“Indeed it is, gel.”

“Would you care to take a stroll
around the garden later?”

Aunt Fiona, with her silver hair
and rotund, short frame, squinted quizzically at her niece for a moment. “Why,
heavens, I think I’m too old for that. Perhaps I’ll sit outside among the roses
on that stone bench we have, but a walk? No, my bones aren’t young anymore.”

“Would you like me to accompany
you?”

“No, that’s alright, dear. You
should explore the area. Take a maid and a carriage and go into to Truro. I
know an acquaintance who would be willing to have you for the night should the
trip tire you out. Lovely town, that. Practically grew up there, you know.”

“Mmm.”  It was all the opening
she needed, really. Although she wouldn't have to spend the evening in Truro,
she could always take the opportunity to explore the area and with it, Falmouth
Castle. Her aunt need not know that she was inexplicably drawn to a
mysterious and formidable stranger who resided seemingly alone in the castle’s
dark spires.

They sipped their teas in silence
for a moment.

“Aunt?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Can you tell me about Falmouth
Castle?”

Aunt Fiona was silent for a
prolonged moment whereby she licked her lips, shuffled in her seat, and pushed
her spectacles onto the bridge of her nose. “Well, now what do you wish to hear
about it?”

“Is… does somebody live there?”

“Hmmm.” Fiona glanced briefly out
the window, squinting. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think anybody lives
there.”

“Did anybody used to live there?”

Her aunt thought about this for
some time, ponderously draining her teacup and gesturing for a another. Dani
complied hastily, eager to discover all Fiona knew about the history of
Falmouth Castle and more.

A teaspoon clinked against the
porcelain of the teacup as Fiona stirred the liquid in an agonizingly slow manner.
Dani gritted her teeth to keep from yanking the blasted saucer from her aunt
and stirring the contents herself.

“Well, let’s see,” Fiona murmured
thoughtfully, “I believe the castle belonged to the Earl of Falmouth. Yes,
that’s right. Oh, now I remember. Terribly sad, that.”

When Fiona made no move to say
anything further, Dani nearly exploded where she perched on her settee. “What’s
sad?” she blurted. “What’s terribly sad?” If her back didn’t trouble her so
badly, she would be bouncing up and down on her bottom.

“Well, a few years back it turned
out the Earl had a son from Ireland. Now, when the old earl died, I believe his
son came to inherit the title. Nobody had ever heard of him before, so people
were right shocked, they were. But the boy did well enough, I suppose. I think
he was very popular in London and with all the ladies but then one day, only
having the title for a year, a terrible accident occurred.” Timeous as always,
Fiona paused in her tale and set aside her teacup. Almost blithely, she reached
for her knitting and for a few torturous minutes the only sound in the room was
that of two needles clicking together.