The Castle of Love (8 page)

With a gasp Jacina drew herself deeper into the shadows. As she did so the edge of her cloak caught on a bush. The whole bush shook as she tugged her cloak free.

Fronard and Felice drew apart and looked her way.

Her heart in her mouth, she turned on her heels and stumbled back through the copse.

She did not know where she was going or what she would do when she got there.

What could she do! All she could think of was Felice and Fronard embracing in the folly.

In her haste she took a wrong turning and slithered into a ditch. Icy water oozed up over the top of her ankle boots. Breathing heavily, she scrambled from the ditch and turned back onto the main path. Her feet were now soaking wet. Low branches lashed at her face as she ran. She broke from the copse just as the moon went sailing into a sudden mass of dark cloud.

The castle at least was still outlined against the sky and she raced towards it. Reaching the moat she was thrown into confusion. Which way was the wooden bridge? It was too dark to see. Should she turn to the left or right?

Her head jerked up. Was that the snapping of a twig in the copse behind her? Her heart went chill in her breast. Suppose Fronard was coming after her? What would such a man do to prevent her reporting what she had seen? She had to take a chance. She must reach the safety of the castle.

Heart pounding she plunged to the left. It was the right decision. She found the wooden bridge and stumbled across. Reaching the castle in minutes she pushed at the heavy door. The stone she had left there tumbled aside.

Now she was running up the stairway, running without pause.

 Who could she go to, who?

Even as she reached the top of the stairs, she knew. Sarah! Surely Sarah would listen to her.

She had barely breath left in her body by the time she reached the nursery. She fell against the door and beat upon it with her fists.

"Who's there?" called Sarah.

"It's me, it's me!"

"Jacina?"

The door was opened and Jacina stumbled with a cry into the old Nanny's arms.

 Firelight flickered on the nursery wall. Jacina sat hunched in a chair, a blanket round her shoulders. Her boots and stockings lay drying on the hearth. She was clutching a mug of hot milk, from which she now and then took a small sip. Her voice was tremulous as she told her tale.

Sarah listened in grim silence.

When Jacina had finished, the old woman turned her head and stared into the coals. Her face was sombre in the glow.

"I knew it from the first," she said at last.

"You – you did?" stammered Jacina.

Sarah looked at her. "Oh, I didn't know exactly what was going on. Mercy, no, but when the Earl brought Miss Felice up here to meet me, I thought at once she had the look of a minx on her." Sarah mused for a moment before continuing.

"They say suffering makes the heart soften, but it seems to have had the opposite effect on Miss Felice Delisle. And it must be that Fronard, leading her astray."

Jacina was staring at Sarah. She had just remembered the encounter with Felice on the woodland path, when Felice had looked so dishevelled and had tried to keep her talking. She recalled the woodsman's cottage and how the door was swinging open as if someone had left in a hurry.

Was the cottage another of Felice and Fronard's trysting places?

 She put down her mug slowly. "What must I do, Sarah?"

Sarah's reply was unequivocal. "You must tell the Earl what you saw, my lovely. You must indeed tell him what you saw."

Jacina knew that Sarah was right but her heart sank. How was she to approach the Earl? She knew what Sarah did not, that it had been a while since she and the Earl had been alone together or enjoyed any kind of companionship. She had long been banished from his good graces.

Even now her cheeks burned at the memory of that scene in the library, when she had inadvertently offended Felice by wondering aloud at her relish for tragic love stories.

Or had it been so inadvertent? Might she not even then have secretly suspected that Felice was not all she seemed?

Jacina's thoughts were in a whirl. Whatever Felice was, the Earl was in love with her. How could Jacina possibly confront him with the lurid truth?

With a sudden small cry she buried her face in her hands.

Sarah watched anxiously.

"Do you want that I should go tell the Earl, Jacina?"

Jacina straightened. "No, Sarah. You – you didn't witness it. I did. It is I who – who must go."

There was another reason for Jacina deciding that it must be she and she alone who went to the Earl. The Earl could well resent the messenger. Better then that the messenger be someone who was already out of his favour!

Having found her resolve she knew she must act

without delay. Shrugging off her blanket, she leaned down to collect her boots and stockings from the hearth.

 "But they're still damp!" exclaimed Sarah, when she saw what Jacina was doing.

"I know Sarah but it's getting late and – I have to go tonight. You know that."

Sarah sighed and sank back in her chair. Of course Jacina had to go tonight. Tomorrow would be too late.

Tomorrow the Earl and Felice Delisle would be wed.

*

The castle was very quiet as Jacina made her way to the Earl's study.

She knew that was where she would find him. She had seen the light shining from the study window. Sarah had said he sat up late.

When she came to the study she tapped very lightly upon the door. She did not want anyone other than the Earl to hear. There was no response. She was about to knock again when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

She cast about her in dismay. Where could she hide?

There was nothing for it but to crouch down at the side of a large coffer that stood to the right of her in the passageway. She had to hope that whoever was approaching went to the left at the top of the stairs and not to the right. If they turned to the right and passed the coffer, they could not fail to see her.

She saw the light of a lamp bob into view and squeezed further back against the wall.

The person carrying the lamp stopped outside the Earl's study and knocked loudly. Jacina's heart gave a thump as she heard the Earl's deep voice call out.

"Who's there?"

It thumped even harder when she heard the reply.

"Fronard."

 Fronard! What was he doing here at this hour?

"Enter," called the Earl.

She heard the door open. The bobbing light vanished as Fronard entered the study and closed the door behind him.

This was an unexpected turn of events. What should she do? The safest action would be to creep away now, while she had the opportunity. If Fronard came out and turned to his left down the passageway – as well he might, since his own room lay in that direction – he would pass the coffer. If Jacina was still there, he would undoubtedly discover her.

She was frightened of Fronard. If the truth were told, she had been frightened of him from the first. His sharp eyes seemed to notice everything. There was a hint of cruelty in their gaze. She wondered if Felice was indeed the marionette, as Sarah had suggested, and Fronard the master.

Jacina knew she must not let her fear drive her away. If she did not tell the Earl what she had seen, then she would be consigning him to a marriage he might bitterly regret.

She stayed in the passageway, praying that she would not be found out. The clock struck a quarter to the hour. She shrank further into the corner, shivering. The clock struck one. A few seconds later the study door opened.

"Goodnight, my Lord," came the voice of Fronard.

He pulled the study door to, but she did not hear it close. Perhaps that was because her ears were full of the sound of her anxious heart. It beat so loudly in her rib cage, she was surprised that Fronard himself did not hear it.

A second later she thought with horror that he had, for the light from the lamp he carried remained motionless a few feet beyond her. He was standing still outside the Earl's door. Standing still and listening!

Jacina tried to stop her very breath.

At last the light began to bob again. It moved away from her and down the stairs. Jacina let out a long sigh of relief and then rose awkwardly to her feet. Feeling stiff and cold, she stepped up to the study door.

 It stood ajar. She gently pushed it wide. Her heart caught in her throat as she saw the Earl there before her. He was leaning with one arm on the mantelpiece, his face turned towards the fireplace. He could not see the flame of the fire, but he undoubtedly felt its warmth on his flesh.

He was in a long, black, velvet dressing gown. It was open to his breastbone and she saw the dark hair of his chest.

The sight of him made her feel faint. Trembling, she stepped forward.

"My – my Lord."

His head snapped up.

"Jacina?"

"Yes, my Lord. I – I have something important to tell you."

The Earl's reply was icy. "It does not surprise me, madam, that you do."

His words confused Jacina and his manner was so cold, she wanted to turn and flee. Yet Sarah had said this was the right thing to do and she must do it. She opened her mouth but could not speak. Instead a sob rose in her throat.

The Earl cocked his head as if he heard this sound.

"Well?" he asked impatiently.

The words came from her in a rush. "My Lord I – I could not sleep. I needed air – I went out to the garden – to the folly, where I often go. I – I saw two people there. Monsieur Fronard and your fiancée Felice. I saw them together in a way that was not – they embraced, my Lord – they kissed – I wish I had not seen it, but – I did and – it cannot be right for them to – I felt you had to know – surely – you had to know."

Her voice trailed off. Tears ran down her cheeks and she wiped them away with her sleeve.

 "For – forgive me, my Lord."

"Forgive you?" The Earl's voice cut through the air like a blade. "Forgive you, this vicious tittle-tattle? This odious slander? This clumsy attempt to blacken the name of the woman I am to marry?"

"My – my Lord?"

The Earl's face was a study in rage. The brows were thunderous. His unseeing eyes blazed with fury. His words burned into her like acid.

"Madam, Fronard himself has only just left me. He was at his window and saw you wandering in the garden. He has been much disturbed of late by your behaviour. He expected something of this sort from you. He told me how you have been – watching my fiancée – attempting to undermine her at every turn."

"But my L – "

"DO NOT INTERRUPT ME!"

He might as well have raised his hand to her. Jacina began to shake before him. The room seemed to dance and turn about her.

The Earl sensed where she stood and advanced toward her, his harsh words falling like blows.

"From the first you have displayed a jealousy of her position. Fronard told me how Felice even found you trying to steal the diamond necklace I had given her."

"No, no, my Lord," cried Jacina. "No. That is not – "

With a cry of anger, the Earl caught at her with one outstretched hand. His fingers settled around her throat. Even now, even though it was in seething fury, his touch made her swoon. She knew at that moment, she would willingly have died by his hand than so utterly lose his affection.

"Do you deny it?" he hissed.

 His face so close to hers was a strange torture. She closed her eyes.

"I – deny it – my Lord."

His hot breath was upon her cheek. Even as she felt herself yielding in his grasp, the nature of his breathing changed. She opened her eyes.

There was sudden bewilderment in his unseeing gaze. His fingers on her throat slackened. For one moment – one moment in which her heart almost ceased to beat – his lips came close to hers. Then he loosened his grip and stepped back. He passed a hand across his brow.

"Be gone, be gone!" he muttered.

He turned from her and walked unsteadily back to the fire.

"My Lord," she murmured, "please, my Lord – "

He rounded on her with a wild and violent cry.

"Be gone, I say!"

Shaken to her very core, Jacina turned and fled.

*

Like an animal mortally wounded, she blundered along the corridors. Her breath scarcely sustained her, yet on she ran. Finding almost by instinct the stairway that led to her room, she hung panting for a moment on the banisters, her breast heaving with sobs she dare not utter. Only the sound of a door opening below her gave her the strength to mount.

The door of her room was ajar. She flung herself across the room and onto her bed. At last she could freely give vent to her feelings. Loud sobs racked her body. She twisted and turned, her fingers clutching now at the counterpane, now at the pillow.

She could imagine no greater torment.

The man she so admired – nay, so adored – believed she was no more than a jealous and conniving rival to his fiancée!

 Jacina lay there wrestling with her conscience. Had she for one moment felt relish in going to the Earl with her story? No, she had not! Had she hoped the Earl would cancel the wedding when he heard the truth about Felice? Yes, but she had hoped that for his sake, not her own.

Had she for a second believed she would benefit from the Earl being disillusioned with his fiancee? No! No one in their right mind could imagine that the heartbroken Earl would turn for comfort to the very woman who had been instrumental in destroying his happiness.

All she had wished to do was to save the Earl from the clutches of Monsieur Fronard and the woman Jacina now believed was his creature, Felice Delisle.

That in the process she might inflict a wound on Felice had been, she had to admit this to herself, a source of some satisfaction.

Not because the Earl loved Felice but because Felice did not love him.

Jacina moaned as she realised that, whatever her intentions, she had ended up doing more harm than good. Unwittingly, she had helped drive the Earl further into the power of Fronard and Felice.

The Earl believed Fronard had acted to protect Felice from Jacina's wicked machinations. He believed Fronard to be honest and Felice innocent. What he believed Jacina to be, broke her heart.