Shadows at Stonewylde (5 page)

She was as beautiful as ever, her hair like polished silk and her skin as flawless as alabaster. Her eyes were like a wolf’s, silver with darker edges to the irises. Every feature was exquisitely perfect and refined. Two children hadn’t spoiled her slim body; she moved with the grace and elegance of a dancer. Yet something was not right. Leveret stared from beneath her dark curls, knowing that as ever Sylvie would barely notice her. It was one of several reasons why she disliked her brother’s wife.

‘Good morning, Mother Maizie. Leveret. You’re late today!’ she said brightly as they all fell into step together. ‘I’ve just taken Celandine and Bluebell to the Nursery and they’re all off to the woods in a minute to search for cobnuts and squirrels and giant puffballs. I wish I’d joined them. They were so happy and excited.’

‘Bless them! Just like Yul at their age, always wanting to play in the woods. How’s my son today?’

A shadow passed over Sylvie’s face.

‘I haven’t seen him yet. He went for an early morning ride I think, and wasn’t back in time for breakfast with us. The girls weren’t impressed but he often misses joining us for breakfast. It’s just the wrong time to fit in with his day, and the girls can take so long in the mornings. But I’m hoping to see him when I get back.’

‘You know there’s a meeting this morning? I’m late,’ said Maizie, ‘and I hope he won’t be annoyed. We’ve a visitor from the Outside World today, coming to talk to us about the Nursery. Put us right, I suppose! Hasn’t Yul asked you to come? I know Miranda’ll be there.’

Sylvie looked a little non-plussed but smiled anyway. Leveret noticed the small lines around her mouth.

‘Oh, I expect he mentioned it but you know how forgetful I am. Why are you so late this morning? It’s not like you to oversleep.’

Maizie jerked her head angrily at her daughter.

‘This young maid’s fault! Not only was she out gallivanting in the woods till close on midnight last night, but then she disappeared this morning as well. She’s out of hand and I’m going to ask Yul to deal with her.’

Sylvie flicked a glance at her young sister-in-law but quickly looked away. The sullen girl with dark curls and fathomless green eyes disturbed her. She’d always felt uncomfortable with Leveret who’d openly disliked her from a very young age.

‘Oh no – is that really necessary, Maizie?’ she said quickly. ‘He’s exhausted as usual although he won’t admit it, and he’s so very busy at the moment.’

‘Well, I’ll see, but something must be done. This girl shows no respect for me at all and I can’t trust her alone for a second. I don’t know what to do with her.’

‘Couldn’t she go to Rosie when you’re busy?’

‘Aye, but Rosie’s got her own family to think about and Robin won’t want this darkling sitting under his nose every night upsetting his little ones, will he?’

‘What about your younger boys? Maybe they could babysit for you?’

The look Leveret gave her was pure venom.

‘That’s not such a bad idea,’ said Maizie slowly. ‘’Tis only since Sweyn and Gefrin’ve started boarding at the Hall that she’s got so bad. They always did keep her in check. Yes, I’ll speak to them today. Thank you, Sylvie.’

They left the canopy of golden beech trees overhanging the gravel drive and approached the great turning circle in front of the Hall. The vast building sat as it had done for so many hundreds of years, an imposing edifice of pale stone all quarried at Stonewylde. It seemed to grow out of the land, its thousands of diamond-shaped panes of glass glinting and reflecting light. The Hall was irregular and almost organic in design, as if parts of it had sprouted from the enormous main block of their own accord; as if the very stone itself had grown and developed extra limbs and dimensions to accommodate those who lived there. Every period of history was represented, from the early mediaeval era when the present structure was first begun, to Edwardian. Inside, meanwhile, the technological effects and improvements of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries were evident.

It was a true stately home, but it was also a working one, a place used daily by the people of Stonewylde as a home, a school and an office. No longer the luxurious preserve of a privileged few, it had become the property of everyone at Stonewylde. The Hall was used by all and lived in by many. Maizie and Leveret approached it with as much confidence as Sylvie, entering the enormous porch and going through into the stone-flagged entrance hall. The place exuded an atmosphere of busyness, with voices audible from many directions and people moving about purposefully.

‘Go to your lessons right now,’ said Maizie to Leveret. ‘You’ve missed assembly but make sure you say sorry for being so late. What’ve you got first?’

‘Geography,’ mumbled Leveret from behind her curls.

‘You need a haircut, my girl,’ said her mother sharply. ‘I’ll do it tonight. Wait for me here after school and we’ll walk home together. Do you understand, Leveret?’

‘Yes. And I don’t want my hair cut. I like it how it is.’

‘You’ll do as I say, Leveret – it’s a mess. Do you understand? This wildness and disrespect is going to stop right now. Sylvie’s right – your brothers will help me. Maybe you’ll toe the line for them if you won’t for me, and if that don’t work, I’ll speak to Yul.’

‘I wouldn’t mind speaking to Yul either,’ said Leveret softly. ‘There’s something I could tell him, isn’t there, Mother?’

Sylvie looked at the girl, surprised at her tone and Maizie’s reaction. She didn’t envy Maizie her role and hoped that her own daughters would be easier to handle when they were fourteen. At least they had a father around, unlike Leveret whose father had died thirteen years ago this Samhain. Maybe that was why the girl was being so difficult; perhaps the anniversary of her father’s death upset her. She must suggest it discreetly to Maizie in case it was a factor in Leveret’s behaviour.

‘Don’t you dare threaten me, Leveret! I’ll be telling Yul myself. Now get yourself off to your lessons.’

The girl swung around and stormed off down one of the many corridors. Sylvie grimaced in sympathy and Maizie shook her head.

‘She’s awful! What did I ever do to deserve her – and when life should be so much easier and calmer now? You raise six children and think you know it all, and then the seventh turns out to be worse than all o’ the brood put together.’

‘What’s she threatening you with?’ asked Sylvie. ‘What happened?’

Maizie’s face darkened.

‘For goddess’ sake don’t you tell Yul, will you? I lost my temper last night and I slapped her.’

Sylvie gasped.

‘Maizie! You must be feeling awful about that! Will she tell Yul?’

‘So she says. I’m calling her bluff, saying I’ll tell him myself, but I hope it don’t come to that. He’d never understand, would he?’

‘I doubt it. You know how he’s so adamantly against any sort of violence towards children. Though it’s understandable after what he went through, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes,’ nodded Maizie, images flashing through her mind of a bruised and bloody boy lying crumpled on the floor at his stepfather’s feet. ‘Yul has good reason to feel that way. But honestly, this were only a little slap, nothing like he suffered, and nothing meant by it. Well, I must get to this meeting, Sylvie. Are you coming?’

Sylvie shook her head. She hadn’t even known about the meeting and was sure she hadn’t been invited. The Nursery wasn’t her domain, although both Celandine and Bluebell went there every day. She’d thought about helping but it was well run by others, with Rowan in charge, and she thought her presence might hinder some of the women there. Although there were no social distinctions at Stonewylde anymore, nevertheless as Clip’s daughter and Yul’s wife, Sylvie occupied a position of authority. People watched what they said in front of her. She belonged to Stonewylde, would one day be the owner of the estate, and yet at times she still felt like an Outsider. Unlike Miranda, who’d devoted herself to remodelling the education system since her son was born, and now ran the Senior School at the Hall along with much of the adult education in the Great Barn. Miranda was completely integrated into Stonewylde and had become a key figure, while Sylvie still seemed to be on the outside looking in.

She sighed and bent to kiss Maizie’s plump cheek and give her a hug. She was very fond of her mother-in-law and had often considered confiding in her. But although Maizie was the first to point out Yul’s shortcomings, her loyalty towards her first-born was intense and Sylvie wasn’t sure she’d be the best person to hear about their problems. And now she knew that Maizie had such a difficult time with the wayward Leveret, she couldn’t burden her any further.

So, with a small smile, Sylvie left the hall and slowly climbed the great wide-stepped staircase, gazing up at the glorious stained-glass window on the half-landing ahead. She remembered Magus bounding up these stairs in his riding clothes, the red and purple light from the glass shining onto his handsome face and transforming him into a royal deity. She remembered the scent of him with a sharp thrill, the energy that blazed from him. Her hand caressed the ancient polished wood of the banister rail as she climbed the stairs, and she thought of how many times over the course of his life that Magus’ hand must have run along the smooth oak. She stopped and closed her eyes.

‘Are you alright?’

Her eyes flew open and she saw a figure coming down the stairs, silhouetted against the bright wall of coloured light. The body was tall and well-built, the hair pale.

‘I’m fine thanks, Martin,’ she smiled. ‘Just besieged by memories.’

She drew level with him at the landing halfway up, under the stained glass. Martin looked down at her, concern in his eyes.

‘Memories? Yes, I feel them too, all the time,’ he said quietly. ‘Some things just don’t go away, do they?’

Sylvie looked at him more carefully. Martin definitely had Hallfolk blood and she was sure he was closely related to Clip. She’d heard rumours that they shared the same father, Basil, and it didn’t surprise her; the two of them were very alike. Over the years, since the events of that terrible Winter Solstice, she’d tried hard to accept Martin. It had been difficult in the early days as he’d been hostile towards her when Magus was alive and had made no secret of where his loyalties really lay. But Clip had insisted that Martin remain as major-domo. In a period of complete chaos, Stonewylde needed all the stability it could muster and Martin had always done an excellent job of running the Hall.

Clip and Martin had apparently buried their differences, although every time Sylvie saw the horrible scar on Martin’s temple and eyebrow she was reminded of Clip in his swirling crow-feather cloak with that lethal staff in his hands. And sometimes she caught Martin looking at her in such a strange way that made her feel quite spooked. But past troubles had to be put firmly aside and she always tried hard to get on with him. Nobody else seemed to have any trouble doing so. She smiled at him ruefully as they stood on the half-landing.

‘I sometimes feel the past sitting on my shoulder, peering over and breathing in my ear. It’s hard to shake off.’

Martin looked gravely into her eyes; they reminded him so strongly of the wild woman Raven, whom he remembered from his childhood. His mother and aunt had hated her with a vengeance and he knew that Sylvie aroused similar emotions in them. But Martin must work diligently and treat the present magus and his wife with deference and respect, whatever history had gone before. He had a major role to play and personal issues would never jeopardise that.

‘You see the past as a crow on your shoulder, but to me the past is a cloak to be worn,’ he said, still gazing into her strange eyes and noticing how the light shining through the coloured glass was staining her silver hair and white skin a deep blood red. ‘If you discard it completely you’ll reveal the nakedness of your future.’

She frowned at him.

‘That’s very deep, Martin. Where does it come from? I don’t think I’ve heard it before.’

He tapped the side of his head and smiled faintly.

‘Must get on, Miss Sylvie – there’s lots of work to be done and I can’t stand chatting all day. The girls should’ve finished cleaning your chambers by now if you need to go and sit down.’

‘Thank you, Martin. I’ve got lots to do too.’

She carried on up the stairs knowing Martin was well aware how untrue that was – she had absolutely nothing to do. Stonewylde was running like clockwork, thanks to the efforts of Yul, Clip and the Council of Elders. Everyone worked really hard but she herself had no responsibilities. She opened the heavy door to their apartments and sniffed appreciatively at the smell of beeswax polish. A great vase of bronze chrysanthemums now stood on the table and everything was clean and very tidy. Cherry, in charge of organising the work duties for all the older teenagers who boarded at the Hall, always checked their chambers herself and ensured they’d been cleaned to perfection.

Sylvie wandered down through the rooms but there was nothing that needed doing. The beds were made and someone had lined up all the girls’ little knitted animals on the windowsill. They’d like that. She thought of them now, running and playing in the autumn woods with all the other under-eights. No chanting of times-tables for little Stonewylders, she thought gladly. Maybe she should’ve stayed and helped with the Nursery children this morning, especially if Rowan was up here at a meeting. She frowned, imagining Miranda, Maizie, Rowan and probably Dawn all at this meeting with her husband discussing the nursery education at Stonewylde, whilst she was twiddling her thumbs. Why hadn’t he told her about it?