ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER TWENTY

Like a ship, cresting and then vanishing across a softly swelling sea, the Castle Ravenshead appeared and then vanished as the party of travelers rode overland in a carriage from the decks of the Raven. With each incline of the land, the castle could be viewed in all its ancient splendor, and then, with the land's declivity, it disappeared from view, only to reappear once again. Each time it appeared, it seemed not only larger to Maurette but more imposing, changing shape and even color. New turrets appeared and towers. Maurette squinted against the afternoon sunlight to impress the image of the castle in her mind. But the pulsating, fluctuating, ever changing image only appeared and disappeared in spectral derangement.

As the great Warbrooke carriage wheeled up the mountainous path that led to the curtain wall of the edifice, the atmosphere inside the carriage became more and more strained. Geoffrey and Ben had attended Maurette and Dominlc on the overland journey, and Geoffrey had kept up an uninterrupted flow of happy conversation until the last few miles when they had begun the winding climb from the sea.

The Castle Ravenshead loomed atop a massive peak overlooking the ocean on all three sides. A drop of sheer, sea-smashed rocks fell on one side of the carriage to the pounding, rolling waters of a gray cove. The cove was surrounded by more jagged rock, and all that one could see, if one looked down, was a turbulent abyss of boiling vapor. The jagged white tops of the waves that cut through the mist looked as fearsome and sharp as the craggy rock upon which they beat.

Maurette drew a calming breath. She tore her gaze from the violence of her surroundings and pushed herself back against the cushioned seat and laid her head against the padded pillow of the headrest. After long moments, in which the crunch of the carriage wheels was the only sound apart from the crashing waves and the roar of the wind, she felt sufficiently composed to speak.

"There is a fearsome beauty here. 'Tis almost like the dawn of creation," she said in a small voice. "This is truly an adventure for me," she added, attempting to lighten her voice with the thrill of discovery.

Ben glanced at her from across the coach. His eyes beneath his drawn brows were filled with understanding. He gazed ruefully out through a spume-clouded window. The sheering gray rocks offered no solace as they descended down into the convulsing vaporous maelstrom below. The small but vital Maurette would either be swallowed up by the shapeless void of her barbarous surroundings, or she would conquer it. Looking again into her determined eyes, he saw fear and resolve warring in their lavender depths. He prayed that she was equal to the challenge of this unaccustomed and ungentle miasma of nature's cruelty.

Geoffrey was chuckling softly. "You have a most enchanting way of putting things, Maurette," he said. "You call this the dawn of creation; I call it the dawn of hell. This place would wither the stamina of the heartiest adventurer."

Dominic moved his arm round her shoulders and eyed his friend levelly. "'Tis our home, Geoff," he said quietly.

Geoffrey was immediately chagrined. "'Tis that, Captain, and I meant no offense," he said quickly. "'Tis only that-"

Maurette's gentle laughter interrupted him. "'Tis only that a superstitious mariner sees danger and imagines demons where none exists."

"Well aimed, my lady," said Geoffrey good-naturedly.

An unsettling silence filled the coach as it continued up the winding road.

Dominic was lost in his own thoughts. In silence he reflected on Geoffrey's words. "the dawn of hell," he had called this place. Perhaps it seemed like that to some, but it had been home to the house of Warbrooke for over four-hundred years. It was, for Dominic, a renewal each time he entered the estate. His strength and his honor came from here. Everything that he was, was encompassed in the thick walls of Ravenshead.

For all her sweet amiability and her courage, Maurette was, he knew, frightened. But Dominic had felt that this was the only course for them to take. In London, where the more narrow-minded of the gentry were scandalized by the circumstances of their relationship, she would have been the victim of cruel gossip. Beyond that, the isolation here would give the two of them the much-needed privacy to sort out their feelings for each other. Dominic glanced over at Maurette's piquant profile. He wondered how in hell, in one year's time, he would be able to force himself to put her. out of his life. This darling, daring little creature had already ensconced herself in his soul. He knew, however, that he must harden himself to the inevitable. He was incapable of commitment to any woman, even Maurette.

Finally, the carriage turned onto the causeway of the castle. Beneath that narrow road a deep pit ran the length and breath of the castle. Though it had hardly been needed, Henry Plantagenet had, in the twelfth century allowed no margin for failure when he built this castle as a stronghold against the warlike Scots, and the Castle Ravenshead was as well protected as any fortress of the time. The coach crept across the narrow causeway and halted before a massive portcullis. Great ironwork bars were slowly and laboriously raised by a windlass overhead, and the carriage rolled beneath it into an expansive courtyard. The portcullis clanked shut behind the vehicle as it progressed to the entrance of the castle inside the battlements.

Maurette felt very small and suspended in time as she viewed her new home. The stone-column entrance was surmounted by lofty towers that pierced the fading gray light of the late afternoon sky. Maurette stepped down from the coach and gazed for long moments at the stone ramparts soaring above her, impenetrable and imposing. She turned to look back from where they had come. There was not the slightest view of the outside world behind her. That wide world seemed gone to her forever, and only the pounding rage of the ocean on the shoals surrounding the castle reminded her that it had ever existed. This inner world of stone and sky and the sound of the sea would become Maurette's only reality. She shuddered involuntarily and placed her hand on Dominic's proffered arm. Together they mounted the craggy steps to the great hall.

Inside, they were greeted by a hundred men and women who served the needs of the great house. They bowed and curtseyed at their entrance. Maurette offered her own grave curtsy as a tall thin man moved away from the throng of servants. He advanced to stand before Dominic and Maurette with an air of ownership.

He bowed stiffly before Maurette. "Welcome to the Castle Rasenshead, my lady," he said. "'Tis with abiding humility that we offer you our services." He arched an eyebrow. It was obvious that his own humility was verbal only. At his glance over his thin shoulder, the household once again offered its obeisance. Maurette nodded and tried to smile. Dominic encircled her waist with one arm.

"This is Jonathan," he said, offering Maurette a small sardonic smile. As he led Maurette down the hall to meet the others, he added, "The officious exterior hides nothing more than an overweening superciliousness."

Maurette sfifled a giggle, and extricating herself from Dominic's protective embrace, she stepped into the circle of men and women who had come to greet her. Unused to such personal notice, the servants were surprised and delighted as she passed among them. Offering her hand, she said to one, "I am happy to greet you," and to another, "'Tis with great pleasure that I join this household." To still another, she commented upon the cleanliness of the livery. Maurette could not have known that this inspired compliment had been delivered to a much put-upon and now profoundly grateful laundress. To each servant she made a special and often personal statement.

Abashed and infinitely disapproving, the tall Jonathan remained rigidly stolid as Maurette moved gracefully among the servants. He sniffed in disapprobation as she cupped the chin of a small frightened girl and gazed kindly into her large brown eyes.

"Have I been assigned a tiring woman as yet?" she inquired, keeping her eyes on the child.

Jonathan twisted his cramped neck in an imperceptible warning to the young girl. "You have not, Your Ladyship. We thought to await your arrival, on the chance that you had brought your servant."

Dominic regarded Jonathan with a level gaze. "We informed you of our lady's need,". he said sternly.

Maurette straightened. She regarded Jonathan through Her silken lashes. "'Tis all right, Dominic," she said Evenly, "I have not brought my own servant, Jonathan. Alas, my tiring woman is of an age, and we thought it best that she abide at my family home. I thought to enlist the service of a woman here at Castle Rayenshead."

"We have many excellent women here," said Jonathan, lifting his nose in disdain. "I shall see to your comfort immediately on dismissal of the servants," he added haughtily.

"I shall see to my own comfort ... in this case, Jonathan," Maurette said pointedly. Maurette drew the girl in front of her. "See that she is properly attired and sent to my suite immediately. She is to begin unpacking my things as soon as she is turned out to my satisfaction." Maurette regarded Jonathan with her most radiant smile.

"I do not think-this child, my lady-is by no means-"

"I shall expect her to be fully at ease in her new role." She regarded the girl expectantly "Can you not complete this task with grace, young lady?" Maurette said gently. The girl nodded in wild excitement. She smiled gratefully up at Maurette and, in a warm rush of adoration, hugged her new mistress. The servants stiffened in fear for the girl but relaxed at Maurette's tinkling laughter. "We shall get along just fine," she said gaily, "If you do not crush my gowns each time I do you a turn." She held the girl away from her.

"Now you must go and ready yourself for the noble task you undertake. You must wash your hair to the glisten and clean your fingernail's and-" The girl interrupted Maurette by holding out a pair of very clean hands. Maurette looked appropriately impressed.

"That is well, but there is more. Your face must be polished." The girl held up her immaculately scrubbed face for inspection. "Your shoes must be shined, and they are I see, and your ears must be scrubbed." The girl looked downcast.

"Ah," said Maurette. "But surely there is soap and water about." The girl nodded vigorously. "Then go and use it." said Maurette happily, "and meet me in my chamber within the hour."

The girl rushed off but returned almost immediately to place an adoring kiss on the hand of the beautiful new mistress. The crowd of servants tittered behind their hands.

Maurette turned back to Jonathan. That stiff-shouldered creature was flushed with disapproval, but he held his tongue. "I am sure," she said solemnly, that I will enjoy your able assistance on any number of occasions, dear Jonathan, but in this case, I trust only my own judgment." She moved back to Dominic and smiled gaily into his eyes.

Geoffrey and Ben had stood just apart from the proceedings and now eyed each other. "The chit is not unused to handling servants," said Ben through a small smile. Geoffrey nodded and stifled a deep laugh.

It was at that moment that a harsh clearing of a throat was heard, and heads turned to note a tall, lean woman standing at the edge of the crowd.

"My dear Lydia," Dominic said as he moved to the woman's side. Maurette stayed where she was, for though Dominic had called the woman Lydia, she could not imagine that this raw-boned creature dressed in a simple muslin gown covered by a stained apron was the Lydia of her visions. She was much taller than Maurette and, at the moment, seemed to be wearing an entire garden. She kept tucking at a wisp of hair that fell from her haphazardly upswept coif.

As Dominic drew the woman forward, she said in a rich, warm voice. "This must be your dear Maurette. I am Lydia, child."

Maurette made her deepest curtsy.

Lydia lifted her by one elbow and offered a bony hand in greeting. "I would offer a curtsy myself," she said gently, "but I have been all day covering my rosebushes, and, to be absolutely frank, my back is killing me."

Maurette looked up in astonishment. Her brilliant eyes were wide with perplexity.

"And to add further frankness to our first meeting, I have not showed a leg in more than ten years. I have no idea if I still could." Lydia laughed heartily.

Maurette gave her hand in the simple greeting and smiled faintly. She hardly knew what to make of this big, ungainly, and friendly woman. "'Tis of no consequence," she said in bemusement.

"Please forgive me for not being here to greet you." said Lydia with a withering glare at Jonathan. "I was to be informed directly upon your arrival." Her gaze on Jonathan did not waver. "We might have avoided a most unpleasant turn of fortune had I been here." She turned her regard on Maurette. "The child you have chosen, my dear, is a troublemaker, and Jonathan knows this. She is never allowed beyond the servants' quarters." Lydia smiled genially. "You would never have met the girl, you see, if not for Jonathan's laxity where it concerns his duties in this household."

"Well, then," said Maurette with her own small smile, "'tis my good fortune that your Jonathan slackened his vigilance at least for this one day."

Lydia regarded Maurette with a gaze that the younger woman noted was not unlike Dominic's for its silver intensity. "We wish your stay here to be a pleasant one, dear Lady Maurette. We do not want it spoiled by a guttersnipe who will cause you unending travail. I shall see to a more suitable tiring woman in the morn," she finished peremptorily.

"I would like the opportunity to train the child," said Maurette hesitantly, not wishing to prolong this obvious stand-off with the lady of the house "If she becomes a burden, I shall certainly apprise you of that circumstance."

"Nonsense," stated Lydia. "The child goes back to the servants' quarters, and she is not,"-here she targeted Jonathan, and her voice became acid- "I repeat, not to be allowed among our guests ever again."

Maurette felt her ire rise quickly, but she repressed an anger that she knew would be unseemly at her first meeting with Dominic's sister. "I wish you would allow me to engage the child on a trial basis," she said and appealed to Dominic with her eyes. He merely smiled indulgently at Lydia.

"The two of you would do well to continue this discussion at a later time, in private," he said evenly. Then he regarded Maurette. "Lydia has run this house for ten years with no interference from anyone. I see no reason to question her methods now."

Maurette stiffened. "May I engage the girl until I choose a more suitable woman?" she said, arching an eyebrow.

Dominic gazed amiably at Lydia. "Do you not think that a fair exchange, sister?" he asked. "This bickering could go on all night, and I am sorely in need of rest."

Lydia nodded. "Whatever you say, brother," she said, her shoulders rearing back. "I too would rather not confront this issue in front of the entire household." Her eyes narrowed on Maurette. "We shall speak of this at another time, my lady."

Lydia's tone threatened a confrontation, and Maurette winced inwardly, for she realized that Dominic would apparently be of little assistance to her. She would have to fight her own battle with Lydia, and she sensed that if the matter came under Dominic's mediation, he would side with his sister. For some reason this frightened Maurette immeasurably. She felt suddenly very alone.

"We shall have tea in the withdrawing room, Jonathan," Her tone was sharp.

Jonathan nodded curtly and dismissed the servants, but Maurette noted the look of searing hatred that passed between servant and mistress and shuddered. As Lydia made her way, followed by her guests, from the great hall, up three steps, and along a short gallery, Maurette could not help but notice the bobbling disarray of Lydia's silver-blond hair. She tucked again at a wispy tendril in a vain effort to smooth the unruly mass. All that woman really needs, thought Maurette with a sharp pang of homesickness, is Edyth's spirited ministrations, and that curl would stay in its place or Edyth would know the reason why.

The withdrawing room was a fairly cozy chamber warmed by a fire blazing in an enormous hearth. Bookshelves had been built into two high stone walls, and the wealth of volumes made Maurette gasp inwardly. She had never seen so many books even in her father's vast library. Two window embrasures were placed in the front wall of the room. They were so high that only the sky could be seen through them. The ceiling was plastered and had been painted at one time with floridly colored images, though the colors were now faded and cracked. It was obvious that this was a favorite room to someone and that great care had been taken to personalize it.

Over the fireplace hung a huge crest that dominated the room. On a silver field a raven with two swords in its fearsome talons peered through silver eyes at anyone who entered. Maurette looked quickly away from the bird. She knew that she was mistaken, but she felt it regarded her with an unsavory lust. As she gaped at the creature above the hearth, Lydia took her hand. When Maurette turned away from it, Lydia smiled

. "He is a handsome creature, is he not? It represents family, Maurette, and that is why we keep him there. You will get used to him, I promise. 'Tis our coziest chamber," she said with a twinkle of humor in her gray eyes, as she led Maurette to a chair before the fire. The plum velvet covering the chair was well worn and had obviously been pretty in its time. At the moment, however, it was apparent that Lydia had chosen the chair for its comfort and not for its opulence. "Take this chair, Maurette. 'Tis my favorite."

Maurette sat without protest to enjoy the warmth of the fire. She looked up to find Ben striding toward the fire also to warm himself. They shared a smile. For the first time, Maurette understood his constant feeling of overwhelming cold. The chill of the open sea was bad enough, but the cold of an ancient castle matched no other for its bone-chilling penetration. Maurette knew that she would spend many hours before this fire.

Lydia seated herself beside Dominic on a small sofa across from Maurette, and Geoffrey was standing near Ben at the hearth.

"I cannot tell you how happy I am to see you all," said Lydia addressing the small assemblage. "'Tis unimaginably lonely here." She tucked at another errant wisp of hair. "I am, as you know, Dominic, a woman of solitary interests, but I am always happy for your company and that of your friends."

Dominic placed his arm around his sister's large, bony shoulders. "You shall not be lonely for a great while, dear Lydia," he said. "Maurette and I plan to stay at least for the next year."

Lydia's smile vanished imperceptibly. Her mouth remained in a pleasant curve, but her eyes were solemn and penetrating. She glanced at Maurette and then back to Dominic. "I see," she said softly. "And you, Maurette, how do you feel about this?"

Maurette lowered her eyes, for she wanted no doubt to show in them. "I am happy to reside wherever Dominic resides." She lifted her gaze, and with a gentle spark of determination, she said, "I love your brother, you see. His home is my home."

Lydia arched a gray-gold brow. "'Tis not an easy life," she stated, her semblance of a smile completely gone, especially for a well-bred lady."

Dominic jabbed at his sister playfully. "Shall we discourage the child before she has even had the chance to make her own judgment?" he said amiably.

Lydia's silver gaze held Maurette. "I would not discourage anyone from this life, Dominic. 'Tis the one I have chosen for myself, and I find it equable enough. I consider only that our dear Maurette is young and unused to solitude. Do I make a mistake in my perception?"

"You do not, my lady," Maurette said, and her little chin shot up. "You do, however, overlook the fact that, though I am unused to solitude, I am not averse to it. These books, for example" - Maurette's eyes swept the vast library-"will provide me with many hours of fulfilling companionship. And," she added brightly, "being a student of history, I intend to explore every corner of this remarkable castle."

Lydia stiffened, and her lips pursed. "If you think 'twill provide you solace when the winter storms rage, you are welcome to such pursuits, Maurette. I would think twice, though, Dominic," she said, turning severely to her brother, "about exposing your little guest to nature's brutality. The winters here are evil," she said to Maurette.

"Calm yourself, sister," Dominic said with a quiet sternness. "Maurette has never been one to quail at adversity, natural or man-made." Though his words were full of confidence, Dominic felt a lurching uncertainty. He remembered only too well the storm on ship. Perhaps Lydia was right, he thought. I would be foolish to expose Maurette to more danger.

Ben watched the tableau. He had naught but admiration for Maurette's bold spirit, and though he had never liked Lydia or completely trusted the story of her father's death, he was now in sympathy with her hesitancy. in approving Dominic's decision to make Ravenshead their home. Maurette's enthusiastic acceptance of her husband's home was born of ignorance. This place was isolated and as lonely as a place could be.

Ben knew little of Maurette's background, but he did wonder at the wisdom of transplanting a spirited young noblewoman from London to this forsaken sea-smashed mountain top. His real concern, though, was for Dominic. The man had practically been driven to insanity when Maurette had been injured at sea. What would happen here, if . . Ben stopped his thought before it fulminated into fear. He determined that, cold as it might be, he would stay the winter. He swiped at his reddened nose and pulled his 'shawl tight around his thin shoulders. Perhaps he could get a heavier shawl, he thought forlornly.

Jonathan appeared at that moment with a serving girl in tow. They carried trays of refreshments, which they set on a low table in front of the fire. Geoffrey was the first one at the food. He took a large tankard of ale and a slice of roasted meat with a hunk of bread. As he wolfed it down, he commented that he was hungrier than he had realized.

"Take yourself to the kitchen, Geoff," said Lydia. "There is food aplenty there."

"I may do that, Lydia," he said with a twinkle of mischief in his bright eyes. "And I may inquire there after a particular serving wench who was here last time we visited. By name, she was called Alys, I recall."

Lydia smiled. "Ah, yes, she was a lovely child, Geoff."

"Was?"

"She left," Lydia said tranquilly. "Quite frankly, I was not averse to her going. She had begun to tell wild stories and spread vicious rumors among the servants." Lydia tucked at yet another wisp of silver-blond hair. "There is little to do here at Ravenshead, and I suppose, a spirited young girl would, she became bored." She smiled comfortably around the room. "What tales you may hear are simply the residue of that child's wild imagination."

Dominic regarded her keenly as did Ben.

"What were the nature of these tales, Lydia?" Dominic inquired.

"Oh, nothing of substance," Lydia said, waving her bony hand in dismissal. She raised her big frame from the sofa. Tucking at her hair, she strode across the room. "I shall ring for Jonathan," she said crisply. "I am sure that our little Maurette is exhausted from her journey." Her hands clasped comfortably before her, she turned back to her company. "'Tis such a pleasure to have you all here."

Lydia's brisk movement across the room and sudden dismissal of Maurette brought the younger woman's attention to a feeling of unease that she had noted in herself for some moments. Lydia did not seem at all pleased that they were there. From where this perception of falseness stemmed was, at that moment, beyond Maurette. She only felt that Lydia's overweening concern seemed to be underscored by a very real distress. Maurette rose on Jonathan's entrance and excused herself, saying that she would see them all at dinner. Following the thin servant down the passage, Maurette glanced back over her shoulder and was bemused to find Lydia watching her. Maurette was even more bemused by the hard look of determination in the older woman's silver gaze.