Game of dukes, p.20
Game of Dukes, page 20
‘God forbid!’ Phin muttered beneath his breath.
‘By great good fortune, a friend told Mama that the duke required a new housekeeper, nurse and secretary combined. She applied for the position, on the condition that I could come with her. I was twenty at the time, well able to earn my own living, my Mama insisted that I either marry the man who had been pursuing me rather relentlessly or remain with her. She had lost Papa and couldn’t bear to leave me to my own devices as well. She said it would not be seemly.’
‘It would not have been. A woman who looks the way you do, living alone, would have been in danger. I am glad your mother had the sense to realise that.’
Celeste gave a modest shrug. ‘I am not so sure about that. Anyway, there was no question of my marrying my admirer, even though he was a merchant of considerable wealth. He was deathly dull and marriage to him would have stifled me. I had seen how marriage to a supposedly successful individual had worn Mama down. I could have taken a position as a governess, I suppose—’
‘The same situation would have applied. You would have been relentlessly pursued by every man in the household you joined, and hated by every woman in it because you were more beautiful than any of them.’
‘My, your grace, such compliments could turn a girl’s head.’
‘Ha! I speak the truth and you know it.’ He chuckled, kissing the back of the hand that he still held in his. ‘You are just too modest to admit it.’
‘Well, as it transpired your uncle was impressed by my mother’s calm competency, to say nothing of our willingness to work for little more than board and lodging, so the question of my finding alternative employment did not arise. The duke got two willing pairs of hands, and between us we did everything within our power to make him comfortable. Alice hated us both, Mama more than me, because she could see that her brother enjoyed Mama’s company and was terrified that he would offer to marry her. Not that Mama would have accepted—at least I don’t think she would have—but Alice was not to know that she has no desire to become a duchess, only to be scorned by the rest of the aristocracy.’ Celeste seemed determined to make that particular point, causing Phin to wonder if she was issuing him with some sort of oblique warning. ‘Naturally, she would be considered unworthy.’
‘Perhaps that is why my uncle broke off communications with my mother,’ Phin mused, running his fingers lazily down the length of Celeste’s hand. ‘He had found someone whose society he enjoyed and whom he could legitimately introduce to the Abbey. It probably eased a guilty conscience. If he was unwell, travelling would have been difficult for him, so your mother was a convenient compromise.’
‘She liked the old duke but I am fairly sure there was never anything improper between them.’
‘I would like to say that I am glad he had some peace during his final years.’ Phin released her hand and stared off into the distance, his jaw rigid with renewed tension. ‘But given his selfish assumption that he could do as he pleased, with no consideration for the lives he destroyed in the process, I cannot. My uncle used his position of authority in a manner I cannot approve of. Even when Matthew and I were children he was often short-tempered with us and took little interest in our wellbeing. His own pleasures were all that concerned him and I cannot help but wonder if his breeching my mother’s defences at a time when she was at her most vulnerable was the accident it appeared to be.’
Celeste widened her eyes. ‘You think he was that calculating?’
‘Looking back through the eyes of an adult, I recall certain signs.’ He shook off his angst. ‘Raised voices that stopped abruptly when I appeared. My parents arguing, I suppose, although my father would not have known about the affair and continued to live beneath the same roof as my mother. I must be remembering the start of their differences. My point is that if I saw the signs then my uncle must have done as well, but unlike me he recognised them for what they were and took advantage.’
‘Phin, we cannot change the past and I think we would be better advised to let it go and concentrate upon the future.’ She turned to face him, her expression earnest. ‘I cannot abide seeing an honourable man tearing himself apart trying to make amends for his uncle’s irresponsible behaviour. Besides,’ she added briskly, ‘attempting to discover who killed our relatives so long after the event would be an exercise in futility. I only have two and a half months left now, and I am anxious to see the Abbey restored to its former glory before I leave. Let’s not waste time that could be put to better use.’
Phin was jolted back to reality by this reminder that she didn’t intent to remain permanently at the Abbey. He opened his mouth, instinctively wanting to beg her to stay indefinitely, but couldn’t be that selfish. Every second she spent here would remind her of Matthew and the devastating loss of the man she had loved. He couldn’t do that to her for his own selfish purposes, so he closed his mouth again without speaking. ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘I shall press on with the renovations.’ He glanced at the dilapidated west wing.
‘Shall you restore it?’ she asked, following the direction of his gaze, repeating a question that she had asked him once before.
‘Perhaps.’
He stood and held out a hand to help her to her feet, wanting to prolong their time alone together yet knowing it would be pointless, at least until he had lain to rest the demons from his past. He picked up his coat, whistled to Rufus and the three of them made their way to the front of the house. As they did so Celeste shivered, and Phin wondered if she too felt invisible eyes watching them every step of the way.
Chapter Thirteen
A week filled with activity saw the Abbey come alive in front of Celeste’s eyes with a speed that should not have surprised her, given Phin’s ability to makes things happen. Forceful and decisive, he managed to get the very best from his workers, who seemed to want to make a good impression upon the man who held their futures in his capable hands. The main drawing room had been reopened and work progressed on the adjoining dining room. The gate lodge had been restored and was now manned around the clock. Fences had been fixed, walls rebuilt and Phin spoke of taking Alvin to the next horse sales in Newmarket and restocking. Alvin now followed Phin around almost as faithfully as Rufus, and no longer proposed to Celeste once a day.
Phin was everywhere, supervising, issuing instructions, getting his hands dirty. Celeste tried not to resent the fact that they had barely spent a second alone since his return from London and that he made no attempt to single her out. She had no claim upon his time. Besides, it was better that he kept his distance, she told herself repeatedly. He became more ducal by the day, more authoritative and decisive, reinforcing the chasm between their respective situations.
Phin was now throwing all his energy into the restoration of the central courtyard and cloisters. Whenever she saw him, usually at dinner and never alone, he seemed preoccupied. He treated his relations with detached civility, and no one other than his friend Mr Kline spent any time in his library with him. She wondered what they discussed when they were closeted together, but since Phin clearly no longer looked upon her as a reliable confidante she was never likely to find out. Alice continued to deal with the growing number of callers, none of whom Phin personally received, and Toby surprised them all by offering to show the newly-appointed gamekeepers their duties.
Celeste found herself with fewer and fewer occupations. It would have been a welcome respite but for the fact that it afforded her greater opportunities to brood about Phin—the only man who had ever come close to engaging her affections. She laughed at the absurdity of the situation, wondering if he had sensed her inappropriate interest in him and was keeping her at arm’s length for that reason. There again, perhaps he didn’t spare her a passing thought. She sensed that he was deliberately exhausting himself with his determined efforts to lead by example, preventing him from dwelling upon his mother’s perfidy, the accident that claimed their relatives and the missing funds that had almost tipped the duchy into an embarrassing state of bankruptcy. Despite his declaration that he would put such thoughts behind him, she knew they would still eat away at him and wished there was something she could do to ease his torment.
‘There would be,’ she told her kitten, who was now thriving, ‘if only he felt able to share his feelings with me. But men are peculiar in that regard and think it…well, unmanly to bare their souls.’
She returned the kitten to his basket, where he promptly tumbled over his own paws in an effort to capture his tail. Smiling at his antics, Celeste waved to Mrs Gibson.
‘Those impertinent devils,’ the cook complained. ‘No matter how much I feed them, they still seem to sneak in here and help themselves. Half a side of ham has gone missing now, and another loaf. I declare they could eat for England.’
‘I will mention it to Phin,’ Celeste promised, ‘and he can make sure his labourers know better than to steal food. He must be cracking the whip a bit too hard.’
‘No, don’t say anything, love. I’ll sort it myself. He’s got enough to worry about.’
‘As you like.’
Celeste wandered from the kitchen, listening with half an ear as Mrs Gibson instructed her helpers on the importance of putting prepared food out of temptation’s way. It had been drizzling all day but that had not impeded progress on the works in the courtyard, which continued at full speed. Celeste glanced through the window at the activity, pausing when she found that her feet had taken her in the direction of the west wing. She had felt increasingly drawn towards it since Phin’s return, although she could not have said why. The feeling of being watched still came over her whenever she was anywhere near that part of the house, but she never set foot inside it. The old duke had closed it off the moment Phin’s father quit the Abbey, claiming that it required repairs which he couldn’t afford and forbidding anyone to go near the place. She touched the keys attached to her waist, aware that one of them would open the door she now stood in front of.
Dare she?
Why she felt such a pressing need to invade and explore she could not have said. The floors were not safe and all signs of the indiscretions that had been committed within these walls would be long gone. But a burning curiosity drove her on. She selected the appropriate key, fitted it into the lock and took a deep breath. It required both of her hands to turn it, but the lock eventually opened with a reluctant scraping sound. The boards placed across the long windows had partially fallen away and she could see her way without the help of a lantern. Besides, if she turned back to collect one she might lose her nerve. And she was nervous, she realised. Nervous of what she might find? Nervous of being caught snooping in a part of the house where she had no business? Or nervous because she felt tremors running down her spine and was obliged to hug herself to ward off a sudden chill?
‘Stop being ridiculous,’ she scolded, emboldened by the sound of her own voice. ‘No one has specifically told you that you cannot come in here.’
Thus resolved she pushed the door open, stepped through it and closed and locked it behind her. She needed to do this alone. Toby had been watching her like a predatory cat ever since she had stabbed him. His initial relief when Phin didn’t demand an explanation for his behaviour had been palpable. But his pride had been wounded more lastingly than his person and she had sensed that relief was slowly being replaced with a strong desire for revenge.
His attitude added to the prevailing tension at the Abbey, leaving her with a near-permanent headache. The last thing she wanted was for him to follow her in here and finish what he had attempted to start. He now behaved with more civility towards Phin, but the requirement to do so seemed to offend his dignity and fuel his reckless streak. She saw it in his eyes when his obsidian gaze rested upon her far too frequently, implying that he was content to bide his time and enjoyed discomposing her.
Celeste dismissed thoughts of Toby and concentrated upon not breaking her neck on the uneven floors. The air smelt stale and musty, making her sneeze. Dust motes floated around her face and settled upon furniture covered with sheets that had been partially eaten away by rodents. She shuddered when she heard the scrabble of tiny feet on the floorboards, scuttling to get out of her way.
She found herself in a large drawing room, dominated by a marble fireplace at one end. A galleried landing ran around three sides of it and the partially boarded windows faced the cloisters and the courtyard beyond. She could hear the voices of the labourers talking to one another, and a louder voice—Phin’s—issuing instructions that were emphasised by Rufus’s excited barks.
Emboldened by the knowledge of his close presence, Celeste continued to explore, squinting against the glare from the light that filtered through the broken window boards as the sun played peek-a-boo with scudding clouds. The wing must have been magnificent when it had been in good order, Celeste decided, glancing at its high ceilings and the remains of the intricate cornicing. She could easily imagine the roaring fire and the view over the courtyard which had once, she’d been told, been a haven of tranquillity. She found a dining room and a library, its shelves empty and cobwebbed. Presumably the books had been removed before the wing had been closed up. A once magnificent chandelier clung hung from the drawing room ceiling at a dangerous angle—a sorry sight with its empty candle ports and its crystal facets dulled by dust. The rug beneath her feet had rotted in places. She could see dark marks on the panelling where pictures had once hung and was moved by the sight of a magnificent old crystal vase that had escaped the notice of the old duke’s rapacious relatives when the wing had been stripped of its valuables.
The sight of such sumptuous rooms reduced to a state of dereliction filled Celeste with sadness. She shivered and moved towards the open staircase that led off one end of the drawing room, lifting her skirts well clear of her ankles as she carefully avoided the holes in the treads. She was drawn to a room at the back of the upper floor. A strange sense of foreboding gripped her, urging her to turn back while she still could, but her feet refused to obey the commands issued to them by her brain and cut a path for the room in question. This was a long-deserted part of the house and there was nothing living in it that could harm her, she reminded herself, leaving aside the many rodents which had made it their home. And possibly a spider or two.
She was not afraid of spiders, or ghosts or anything else, and she defiantly opened the door to the bedchamber she had reached in order to prove an obscure point to herself. She blinked to clear her vision, since the window boards were mostly still in place, making it hard for her to see clearly. As she grew accustomed to the gloom she realised that the large room must once have been the master bedchamber. It was dominated by an enormous bed and once glorious pieces of furniture. She wondered why they had not been sold off, as most things of value that were not in use had been over the years.
Her gaze came to rest upon the tattered coverlet as she tried to decide what it was that seemed so out of place in this room. It took a moment for her to realise that there was less dust than elsewhere in the wing. Considerably less. Someone must have been in here, and recently. Phin perhaps, revisiting his old haunts.
Before she could decide, a ghostlike figure shrouded in white arose like a phoenix from the far side of the bed. Celeste screamed, felt her heart palpitating and her legs give way beneath her.
She slid to the floor and covered her head with her hands as she cowered there, wondering if she was about to die.
*
Phin found solace in working alongside the labourers engaged in restoring the courtyard. Hard physical work stopped him thinking too deeply about anything and gave him a purpose. Everyone at the Abbey, even Darwin, was attempting to help his efforts, but he still felt unsettled, and sensed that feeling would endure until he understood why he had become duke. He really needed to know…
A bone-chilling scream coming from the west wing shocked him from his reverie. Rufus let out a series of shrill barks. The men working alongside Phin paused, glanced at the building and then back at him. That voice could only belong to one person, Phin knew and felt a tremor creep down his spine. Celeste sounded terrified, but she wasn’t the type to lose her senses if a mouse ran across her toes.
Something or someone had threatened her.
He couldn’t trust his growing feelings for a woman in love with a ghost, so he’d kept her at arm’s length this past week. But it was clear that she needed him now and he didn’t hesitate. What she was doing in the west wing was less clear. The irresponsible chit knew the floors were not safe and had probably fallen through one. There again someone—Darwin—could have forced her into that part of the house, thinking they would have privacy. Anger surged through him at the manner in which he’d seen Darwin’s gaze lingering on Celeste with lustful intent. Perhaps he had grown tired of waiting. Alice and Emma had gone out in the carriage. Alvin was in the stables and Phin was occupied here. Darwin must have grabbed the opportunity.
‘Carry on,’ he said to the men through gritted teeth, striding towards the corner of the courtyard where he knew from his youth that a concealed hatch gave direct access to the old butler’s pantry. It took all his strength to force the long-abandoned door open, with Rufus at his feet barking encouragement, but he eventually managed it and descended the crumbling stairs as fast as he dared given the limited amount of daylight filtering into the tunnel ahead of him. Frustrated by the need to move slowly, he reminded himself he would be no help to Celeste if he broke his neck in his haste to reach her.
His memory served him well. He hit his head once on a low overhang, but that was sufficient to remind him that he was no longer the height of a ten-year-old. He did not repeat his painful mistake. He reached the butler’s pantry and strode up the stairs into the dilapidated drawing room, forcing the memories of happier times spent in that room to the back of his mind. Rufus heard Celeste’s voice, now reduced to whimpers, coming from upstairs and bounded in that direction. Phin followed with greater caution as Rufus led him to the open doorway of his parents’ bedchamber.
