Maggie MacKeever (2 page)

Gathering her heavy cloak around her, Loveday picked her way over the uneven stones. Perhaps Jem hadn’t arrived previously, as they’d planned. There was no one to meet her, and she’d no idea how far away the castle lay. But there’d be warmth ahead, even if she weren’t asked to stay. With that comforting thought in mind, Loveday plodded almost cheerfully along the narrow, winding path.

At last, when she had walked so far in the gusting wind that every portion of her small body ached, the castle loomed into view. The night was too dark, and Loveday was too tired, to make out more than the large irregular outline of the structure, but even that was awesome. Loveday found herself confronted with a huge, time-darkened door, and she leaned against it as she paused to screw up her lagging courage. To her surprise, the door moved under the pressure of her slight weight. Loveday quickly straightened, apprehension stealing over her. The massive door creaked, moaned, swung slowly ajar.

A cadaverous man, dressed in dusty servant’s livery, hovered on the threshold. His white hair stood on end, a fitting frame for the slack features of his time-ravaged face. Pale eyes, one of which had a tendency to wander wildly, fixed on Loveday with an expression of shocked surprise. Before she could speak, he crumpled into a wasted pile of disjointed knees and elbows at her feet. It was too much.  Loveday shrieked.

“There now, don’t take on so,” a comfortable voice soothed. “ Tis only old Tarbath, been in the wine cellars again.”

Loveday found herself being surveyed critically by a large, untidy woman who wore a huge ring of keys at her ample waist. “You’ll be Loveday Fairchild, and we’ve been expectin’ you these hours past. Her Grace is waitin’, miss. Bring yourself in!”

Loveday stepped carefully over Tarbath’s inert form, from which gentle snores now issued, and followed the housekeeper down the long, drafty corridor. “Poor thing, you must be half froze. Why’d you come the back way? Aye, I know, ‘twas that nincompoop of a coachman, curse him. The idea, leavin’ gentlefolk to tramp miles in the dark! But ‘twas a natural enough mistake: you don’t look much like gentlefolk. In fact,” and Loveday’s guide turned in swift scrutiny, “you look like a wee bit o’ a wild thing. Tarbath doubtless thought you was a demon. Though I’ve never seen any demons carryin’ bandboxes. You just give me that and I’ll take it to your room. Your cloak and bonnet, too. Lawks, you’re a proper sight! Never mind, Her Grace will understand. You go on in there.”

Propelled by a vigorous shove, Loveday stumbled into a warm chamber. She gazed at her surroundings with wonder. Even her father’s London townhouse, furnished as it was with every conceivable luxury, most of them not paid for, could boast nothing comparable to this.

The sitting room was crammed with furniture. Loveday stared at a console table supported by intertwined dolphins, seahorses, and eagles, and felt as though she had been suddenly set amongst a group of strange but benevolent monsters. Her bemused glance moved past a daybed with paw feet of painted beech, an inlaid table that rested on crocodile casters, and a kick-legged sofa, before it came to rest on a regal woman seated near the fire.

“It is a bit overwhelming, is it not?” the Duchess of Chesshire inquired. “Come near the fire, child, where I can have a look at you.”

“It’s a beautiful room.  It just takes one’s breath away at first.” Loveday realized the ineptitude of that statement, and flushed. The duchess, enthroned in an elbow chair perched upon lion’s paw feet, smiled.

“Sit down, child,” she said. “You must be quite worn down.” Loveday gratefully dropped into a walnut wing chair, wondering vaguely what mythical creature had inspired its creation, and held out her hands to the fire. She was an unfamiliar loss for words. Her thoughts had been only of reaching Ballerfast; she hadn’t considered what she’d do after she arrived.

The duchess seemed to sense her confusion.  “I am not persuaded that you were wise to come here, or that you would be prudent to stay. I do not scruple to tell you I fancied that your memories of this place would be unhappy ones.”

Loveday glanced at the older woman with surprise. “Have I been here before, Your Grace?”

“You will call me Isolda.  We are family, are we not?  But to answer your question, yes. I wondered if perhaps you didn’t remember your previous stay at the castle. You were quite young.” Isolda fell silent, looking pensively into the fire, and Loveday bit back the questions she wanted to ask. The duchess looked unbearably sad.

She shivered slightly, then glanced at Loveday with a quick smile. “One of the disadvantages of age, alas. One recalls the past too clearly. Shall I tell you about your time with us? Mrs. Snugglebutt is preparing your room. Then Tarbath will bring you a tray. I fancied you might wish to pass the interim here, with me, so we might have a comfortable prose.”

“Oh, yes, please tell me. Unless you’d rather not? It’s strange that I don’t remember being here before.”

“On the contrary, it’s not to be wondered at. You were only with us for a short time, over sixteen years ago. Your mother had just died, and I doubted whether a child of your tender years would be well treated by that disreputable father of yours. Is it true, this tale your brother brought us? That reprobate actually wagered
you
at play?”

The humor of the situation struck Loveday, for the first time, and she almost chuckled. “My virtue, to be exact, and I cannot imagine why he thought I’d meekly acquiesce! He sorely underestimated our resourcefulness, I fear.” She paused for a moment, and her untimely merriment fled. “The truth of the matter is that I now find myself in the most abominable position. I will come into my grandma’s fortune in but a short while, but I cannot think how I am to go on until then. I strongly suspect my father has bats in his head!”

“Ah.” Isolda evinced little surprise at Loveday’s unfilial sentiments. “His actions do argue a certain insensibility. Such things are not as uncommon as you may think, though admittedly so for a girl of your breeding. I cannot conceive of what possessed the man.”

Loveday shrugged. “He’s always planned that I’d marry well, to
his
advantage. Unfortunately, I’ve no intention of forming an alliance to please him, so I daresay he decided to take matters into his own hands. He must be furious with me.”

“He cannot harm you here, if it comes to that, even if he does learn that you’ve come to me. You were right to do so, by the way. And you were doubly fortunate in having assistance; I doubt that your resourcefulness alone would have been enough to see you clear of such a predicament. Your brother arrived yesterday. I’m sure you’re anxious to see him, but he’s off somewhere with Dillian.”

Mrs. Merryweather’s warnings returned to mind. “In point of fact, Jem’s my
half
-brother.” Loveday felt the color rush to her cheeks.

“My dear child, did you really think you must explain blanket-born babes to me? He looks like the Fairchilds, as do you. I have a plan that may solve all our problems, but we’ll speak of that later.” Isolda fell silent as her housekeeper entered the room.

Mrs. Snugglebutt deposited her tray on a table near Loveday.

“That’ll fix you up, miss.”

“Where, pray, is Tarbath?” Isolda asked, with some asperity.

“The old chucklehead’s a-hidin’ of hisself in the cellars again, blatherin’ on about demons. And Twitching’s in the kitchen, pesterin’ me for a love potion.” Mrs. Snugglebutt snorted. “Not that it’ll help her overmuch.”

“Then, Mrs. Snugglebutt, you may pour me a glass of wine. Go on and eat, child.” The housekeeper served Isolda and reluctantly departed the room.

“We have a servant problem here,” Isolda commented, “as you may have gathered. I fear that my dresser will fall into a decline if Averil doesn’t soon return from London. She has formed a lasting passion for Averil’s valet, who unfortunately cannot abide the woman. I vow I am out of patience with every one of them.” She sipped her wine. “The villagers believe the castle to be haunted, though no one pays much attention to such tales other than the servants. We do claim one ghost, the tower lady, but she’s harmless. If you should meet her, please don’t become frightened. She’s a sad creature.”

Loveday suspected that Isolda was testing her in some obscure fashion, and withheld comment. She was full and warm, and wanted only to savor the lassitude that slowly crept over her.

“Have you no desire to wed?” Isolda asked abruptly. “Strange indeed in a young girl! I strongly recommend it to you.”

Loveday smiled, drowsily. “I don’t think, ma’am, that I’m yet at my last prayers.  Once I have my inheritance, there’ll be a horde of gazetted fortune-hunters dangling at my heels.”

Isolda raised a thin white hand to stop Loveday’s flow of words. Ornate rings gleamed dully in the candlelight. “I’ve kept track of you, child. You delight in flaunting convention and setting London abuzz with your capers. I allow I’ve been greatly diverted by your antics, but is this particularly wise of you? One can only sail close to the wind so long before landing in the suds.”

Loveday blinked at this mixed metaphor.  “I do not think my conduct is so reprehensible as you have been led to believe.”

Her mild objection was ignored. “I am sure you do not wish to make a byword of yourself,” Isolda continued. “I admire spirit, but one must observe the proprieties. Unless you wish to set yourself up as another Caro Lamb?”

Loveday’s brief contentment fled. She hadn’t expected such a scold from Isolda, and wondered just how much the duchess knew of her escapades.

She stole a look at her companion. Hard to believe that Isolda had passed her eightieth year, for she was still lovely, a tall slender woman whose snow-white hair, unadorned by the usual cap, was drawn into a loose coil on the back of her head. Her face was dominated by magnificent midnight blue eyes.

“Candlelight is flattering,” Isolda remarked. “I find myself avoiding direct sunlight more and more.  To belabor the point, my grandson needs to get an heir. I fancy you and he would deal well together. You cannot accuse
him
of dangling after a rich heiress, at any rate!” Isolda laughed as Loveday choked. “I thought it best we speak plainly at the outset.”

“Such a thing is impossible!”

“Humbug! Think, girl, Averil could protect you from your papa and fortune-hunters alike. The match would be thought unexceptionable.”  Isobel frowned at Loveday’s pink cheeks.  “There’s no need to be missish; Averil will do as I say.”

In attributing Loveday’s silence to modesty, Isolda was mistaken. Loveday was unaccustomed to such heavy-handed dealing, since her father noticed her only when her behavior was so shocking as to amuse him. Isolda’s presumption angered her, but Loveday was in no position to say so.

“It would be a marriage of convenience,” Isolda continued. “Think you of the advantages. You would be free to go your way after you produced an heir, and you needn’t think that Averil would be a demanding husband. It’s not as if you would be marrying for love.” Her Grace’s tone clearly conveyed her opinion of love matches.

“I tell you, ma’am, this scheme is the height of absurdity. Or perhaps you’re funning me?” Loveday’s voice was calm, as she searched frantically for a plausible excuse to avoid marrying a man she barely knew. “I see only the truth will serve.  Not only is your grandson is above my touch, but I am already secretly betrothed.”

Isolda stared with patent disbelief. “How intriguing! We are, then, to wish you joy?”

Loveday had the unpleasant impression that she was being toyed with, but she philosophically embroidered upon her tale. “There’s been no announcement. My father could not approve of the match.”

“But who is this fortunate gentleman? Surely you can trust me with your secret.”

She was being maneuvered by an expert. Loveday cast around in her mind for a name, and arrived at the only plausible candidate for such a deception. “Jasper Assheton, Viscount Hereford.”

“I see.” The older woman regarded Loveday enigmatically. “I think you’re playing a deep game, my dear. Assheton may be a much sought-after gentleman, but no one could possibly consider him a proper husband for a girl of your years. Come, we begin to understand one another, I think.”

Loveday’s composure deserted her, but her confused objections were cut short.

“You’ll stay here with us, you and your brother,” Isolda announced, with the air of one who has suddenly reached a major decision. “You’ll no doubt sadly disrupt my entire household, but I’m not sure that wouldn’t be a good thing.”

“Thank you,” Loveday murmured. “You are very good. I am truly sensible of the kindness you are doing me, and shall do my utmost to conduct myself with becoming restraint.”

“Don’t talk fustian, child! What odds can it make here? I am persuaded that we shall rub along tolerably well together, you and I. As for Dillian, she’s one of us, of course, but there’s some question as to who sired her. The current belief is that she’s Averil’s half-sister, though I find that difficult to accept.”

Loveday’s head had begun to spin from a surfeit of weariness and revelation. She wondered what the polite response to such a statement might be.

“Dillian is a tedious hoyden, I fear, and given to unbecoming levity. In short, the chit is deplorably rag-mannered, despite my every effort to bring her to an awareness of the proprieties.” Isolda sighed. “I vow I find her behavior positively maddening sometimes.”

“I am sorry for your distress,” Loveday murmured. Dillian sounded like a girl after her own heart.

“Dillian will eventually be obliged to abandon her graceless behavior, but it will be a wearing task.” Isolda’s tone was resigned. “And I should come under the gravest censure were I to turn her out.”

“Pray, don’t distress yourself. It is a pity that the child should be so great a trial—”

“She is my cross to bear,” Isolda interrupted. “But she is not precisely a child.”

“I beg your pardon. If you wish, I could endeavor to tutor her in the niceties of polite behavior.” Though Loveday might hardly be considered the ideal instructor in such matters, she
did
know right conduct from wrong.  Furthermore, she was curious about the much-maligned Dillian.