Joan Wolf (9 page)

“Yes,” he repeated. “It would be nice for them. You might use the ballroom to serve the food. April can be chilly.”

“What a good idea. Thank you, darling. The rector will be so pleased.” She looked down at her plate and then carefully put down her fork. That “darling” had slipped out unintentionally. She looked up to find him still watching her. It was the look that could always make her heart swim.

“This sort of life suits you, doesn’t it?” he asked. “Or are you secretly pining for the excitement of London?”

“Not at all,” she replied with outward calm. “I like my garden, my charities, my neighbors, my boy. I like making a home.”

 For you, she added silently. I like making a home for you. But she did not say that. She loved him but she was afraid to tell him so. She did not know if he would want to hear it. The problem was, she was not, she could not be, sure of him.

“I’m happy to hear that,” he replied, and there was absolutely no expression in his voice. “It seems our marriage was a good idea after all.”

“For me it was,” she replied quietly.

He looked at her in silence for a minute and then he smiled. She was conscious again of his magnetism, his charm. He could do it so effortlessly, she thought, turn her heart upside down like this. And he knew he was doing it, too— that was the trouble. He stood up. “Come upstairs and I’ll show you how I feel about it,” he said softly.

She didn’t reply, but allowed him to take her arm and escort her upstairs to her bedroom.

Chapter Eleven

The good weather held, and three days later Mark suggested Laura and Robin accompany him on an expedition to Dartmouth Castle. It had come out in conversation the previous night that Laura had never been in it.

“You must let me give you a tour,” Mark said. “If you are a Cheney, you must see the castle. It is worth seeing, you know. Parts of it go back to Norman times.

 It has a square tower from the time of Edward IV and a round tower from the time of Henry VII. My grandfather was perfectly correct when he decided it was not a comfortable residence, but we have always kept it in repair, even after the family moved to Castle Dartmouth. It’s one of the main historic landmarks of Devon, not to mention its importance in the history of my own family.”

It was a bright, mild afternoon when Laura and Mark, with Robin squeezed in between them on the seat of the phaeton, set off for Dartmouth Castle. As they bowled along in the clear March sun, they looked to be exactly what they were: a happy, affectionate family group. Many weeks later Laura was to look back on this moment with wild longing and despair. But for now she was happy. Mark, dressed in a russet coat, buckskins, and polished top boots, looked relaxed and even allowed Robin to hold the reins for a brief moment as they went down a wide and deserted stretch of the road. Robin was simply ecstatic; he was thrilled to be going out with them, thrilled to be up in the phaeton, and speechless at being allowed to hold the reins.

The castle was truly impressive. Laura had seen its outside many times; anyone who visited Dartmouth could scarcely help that. It dominated the town and the river, whose waters flowed right past its walls. Walking through its great stone chambers and towers was to travel back hundreds of years in time. Mark was an excellent tour guide, and both Laura and Robin trailed after him, fascinated, asking questions and hanging on his every reply.

Then Mark mentioned a magic word and Robin’s entire small body quivered with delight. “Dungeons? Did you say dungeons, Papa?”

Mark looked at his son and grinned. “Only a few small cells down at the level of the river. There are no torture chambers, Robin, I regret to say.”

“But they are
dungeon
cells?” Robin asked urgently.

“Yes. At least they are certainly cold and damp and dark enough to qualify for that label.”

“May I see them?” Robin was tugging at Mark’s arm in his excitement.

“I suppose so.” His father ruffled his hair affectionately. “They smell, too,” he added.

Robin heaved an ecstatic sigh, and Laura laughed. “Do
you
want to see the dungeons?” Mark asked her, a note of amusement in his own voice.

“No, thank you,” she replied firmly. “Cold, damp, dark, smelly places have no appeal for me.”

“Laurie!”

“I’m sorry, Robin. I know it’s poor-spirited of me, but there it is. You and Papa can go alone.”

“I’m afraid ladies are like that, Robin,” Mark said gravely.

“Well, this lady certainly is,” she returned spiritedly.

He relented. “Very well, Robin and I will investigate the dungeons by ourselves. If you’d like to go up to the North Tower, Laura, you’ll get a splendid view of the surrounding countryside.”

“Now, that sounds more appealing. How do I get there?”

He pointed the way, and he and Robin turned back down the stairs as Laura moved off in the opposite direction. She poked along for a while, looking into deserted bedrooms, until at last she found herself in the tower room Mark had mentioned. There was a stone balcony outside the archway that had once held a door, and she stepped outside for a better look.

 Mark had been right when he said the view was splendid. Laura could see for miles, and she amused herself by trying to pick out familiar landmarks from this unaccustomed height.

She was turning to go back into the tower room when she heard Mark calling her. His voice was coming from the courtyard directly below the balcony, and she leaned out from the stone parapet to call back to him. There was a dreadful grinding sound and then Laura felt the stone against which she was leaning her whole weight give way beneath her. She was falling, and screamed as she blindly reached out for something to grab on to. There was nothing.

It was her cloak that saved her. When she had turned back to the parapet to answer Mark, the full wool cloak had swung out and over the carved stone figures that adorned the side parapet. When Laura pitched forward, the cloak caught, and for just a few seconds held her back, so that instead of following the crashing stone to the courtyard sixty feet below, she was left with the lower half of her body flat on the stone floor while from the waist up she dangled forward into space.

Sheer terror kept her still for a minute, and then she heard Mark shout, “Don’t move, Laura! Stay perfectly still! I’m coming.”

For what seemed hours she lay there, afraid that if she tried to inch her way backward she would either unbalance herself and fall forward or that the stone beneath her would give way as the parapet had. Then, after an eternity, she felt Mark’s hands grasp her ankles. “I have you, Laura.” His voice was calm and quiet. “I’m going to pull you backward now. I don’t know how safe this balcony is, so we’ll go slowly.”

Her body moved along the stone, and slowly she was pulled up from her precariously dangling position over the courtyard. Then his hands were around her waist and he lifted her off the balcony entirely and into the safety of the tower room and his arms.

She was shivering uncontrollably and pressed against him as if he were the only shelter in a nightmare world. The arms holding her to him were like iron bands. “It’s all right,” he kept repeating over and over. “You’re safe now, love. It’s all right.”

From a long way away they could hear a small, near-to-hysterical voice crying, “Papa! Papa! Where are you?”

“Here, Robin,” Mark called strongly, and his arms loosened a little from around Laura. With tremendous effort she took her head out of his shoulder.

“You’d better get him,” she said shakily.

“Are you all right?”

She swallowed and stepped back from him. “Yes.”

“Papa!” came the scream again.

“I’ll be right back,” Mark said to her, and she could hear him running down the narrow staircase, calling Robin’s name. He was back very quickly, and a frightened Robin ran across the room and into her arms.

“It’s all right, Robin darling,” she said, her turn now to hold someone tight and speak words of reassurance. “Papa got me. I’m perfectly safe.”

 Robin began to cry, and she held him close to her while Mark walked over to look out at the damaged balcony. He said something very quietly, and Laura looked nervously down at the bright head that was pressed to her breast. She hoped fervently that Robin hadn’t heard him.

The mood on the ride home was far from the happy expectancy of the earlier trip. Reaction had hit Laura and she felt utterly exhausted. There was a distinctly grim look about Mark’s well-cut mouth, but he was quiet, concentrating on his driving.

 It was not until they turned into the gates of the park that he said, “I’ll find out directly who is responsible for maintenance at the castle. It was inexcusable that that balcony should have been left like that.”

“It really was not at all visible,” Laura said tiredly. “It was only when I leaned against it that the rotten stone gave way. I don’t think it was anyone’s fault, Mark.”

“It was inexcusable,” he said again, and something in his level voice caught her attention. It took her a minute to realize that he was in a quiet, deadly rage. “You might have been killed,” he said.

“Yes. But it was an accident.”

He did not reply, but pulled up in front of the house. As a footman came down the steps toward them, he said, “You and Robin go in, Laura. I will take the phaeton down to the stables.”

She heard later, from her butler, that Mark had fired the two men who were responsible for keeping Dartmouth Castle in repair.

Chapter Twelve

Laura determined to put all thoughts of the accident out of her mind, and being a girl with basically good nerves, she was largely successful. She never mentioned the incident to anyone at all, and when Lady Monksleigh asked her about it a week later, she was taken by surprise. Her ladyship had come to Castle Dartmouth to talk to Laura about a ball the Monksleighs were planning for the end of April, and the two women were sitting in the morning parlor having tea.

“What is this story I hear about you nearly falling to your death over at Dartmouth Castle?” Lady Monksleigh asked, stirring some sugar into her cup.

Laura looked startled. “However did you hear about that, Louisa?”

“My dear, how does anyone hear about anything? The servants, of course. One of the men Dartmouth sacked is the brother of a man who works for us.”

Laura smiled ruefully. “Oh, dear. That’s what comes of living in the country, I suppose.”

“London is worse,” Lady Monksleigh said simply. “But tell me, what happened?”

“I was leaning against the stone parapet on one of the tower balconies and it gave way. I almost fell after it into the courtyard, but luckily my cloak got caught. Mark pulled me to safety.” Laura put down her teacup. “It was frightful, Louisa, and I’d really rather not talk about it.”

“My dear, how dreadful. I don’t blame you at all. I should have been simply hysterical.”

There was a moment’s silence and Laura picked up her cup again and began to sip from it. Lady Monksleigh said, “Mason, the man whom Dartmouth fired, has been telling everyone that it was not his fault. He swears there was nothing wrong with the stone when he was there last week.”

Laura bit her lip. “I feel sorry for him,” she confessed. “Really, Louisa, there was no way one could tell the stone was rotten. But Mark was furious. He wouldn’t listen. He simply got very white about the mouth and said I might have been killed and it was inexcusable. I do hope the poor men can get other jobs.”

“I expect they will,” Lady Monksleigh said placidly. She did not share Laura’s interest in the area unemployment problem. She was, however, extremely interested in her noble neighbors, and by the end of two weeks every person of Laura’s acquaintance had heard about her accident.

“My poor girl, what a terrifying experience,” Giles Gregory said to her when he came to visit Robin five days after Lady Monksleigh’s visit. As Laura had already been condoled with by the rector, Mrs. Dalton, and Lady Countisbury, she was heartily sick of the subject.

“It
was
terrifying and I should like to forget it,” she replied tartly. “However, that is difficult to do when every person I talk to insists on bringing the topic up.”

He looked a little taken aback. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was such a touchy subject.”

She felt a little ashamed of herself. “I didn’t mean to snap at you, Giles. But, truly, I would rather not talk about it.”

He scanned her face with narrowed eyes and then suddenly smiled. “I understand. Now, tell me, how are the arrangements for the Easter party coming along?”

She smiled back at him gratefully. “Very well, thank you. I have ordered the prizes from Melville’s, and ...”

They were still talking comfortably half an hour later when the door opened and Mark came in. He looked a little surprised to see Giles but shook hands pleasantly enough when his former brother-in-law stood up. Giles did not remain for long after Mark’s arrival, and after he had donned hat and coat and gone on his way, Mark turned to his wife.

“It seems to me that fellow is here rather often,” he said. “And for the whole afternoon, too. I saw his carriage down at the stable two hours ago.”

“He comes to see Robin,” Laura said composedly. “They are awfully fond of one another.”

He raised an eyebrow in a way that clearly suggested skepticism. “Are you sure it’s
Robin
he comes to see?”

Faint color flushed into her cheeks. “Of course. It’s only natural that he be attached to his nephew, Mark. Robin is all the family poor Giles has.”

Immediately the words were out of her mouth, Mark’s face changed: the visor came down, the mask of cool indifference which he assumed whenever anything associated with his former wife was mentioned. Laura could have kicked herself for her thoughtless words. She was usually so careful with him on that topic. The problem was that she felt slightly guilty about Giles and so had neglected her usual caution.

“True,” he said coolly. “That probably explains it.”

She wanted to reach out her arms to him, to comfort whatever terrible hurt it was that made him look like that, but she knew she could not. She was utterly certain that he would reject any such overture on her part, and she didn’t think she could bear to be rejected by him. So she only replied helplessly, “Yes, I think it does.”