ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Maurette shivered awake amid the tangle of her bedclothes. She peered into the near-dawn murk of her chamber. The fire had died, and the ever-present damp cold of the sea-washed castle assailed her. She wrapped her heavy coverlet round her body. Today, as he had every day since their arrival, Dominic had left their bed very early, and Maurette, as she had every day since their arrival, had bemoaned his absence. She understood that it was necessary for him to be off on the business of his vast estates, but she would have welcomed the warmth of his presence in the moments of her stark awakenings within the walls of the Castle Ravenshead.

Though she had begged to ride out with him Dominic had told her that he would not allow such a circumstance. The terrain, he said, was too rough, the dampness to chilling, and the state of her health still fragile after what she had suffered on board the Raven. Unfortunately the Dr. Ben had, traitorously, she thought, agreed with him. And so it was that Maurette now sat trembling beneath her covers. She smiled at the irony of Dominic's concerns. Maurette felt not the least bit fragile at this moment, only cold.

She pushed aside the heavy curtains hanging from the tester and cast a longing look toward the door, wishing that a servant would enter to build up the fire. In a well-run household, fires were never allowed to die on such mornings, an even more important amenity in an ancient castle. Why had Kitty not been in before this? And Kitty was usually not amiss in her duties.

Though Lydia had kept a scornful eye on the situation, she seemed to have allowed that, after Maurette's rejecting every woman she brought for her approval, that young woman was not about to give up Kitty without a fight. And fight she would, Maurette had decided, if it became Necessary. So far, however, Lydia had appeared to concede with admirable, if grudging, restraint.

Gathering up her covers around her, Maurette reluctantly drew herself from the bed and went to open the door. She peeped out into the gallery, only to withdraw immediately when she spied Lydia towering over a cowed and terrified Kitty a few feet from the chamber. Lydia's cold voice floated on the cold air.

"How would you like your tongue cut out, my girl?" she said stonily.

"I wouldn't," said Kitty in a small voice.

"'Tis what a kitchen wench deserves when she seeks to rise above her station."

"But the Lady Maurette picked me," Kitty said tremulously.

Maurette peeked again into the gallery to see Lydia grasp the child's arm in what she perceived to be a painful grip.

"I tell you this," Lydia grated, "you shall not encourage this situation 'Tis but temporary. Old rules still apply. You are a kitchen wench now, and you will be one till you die-which may be sooner than you imagine, if you disobey me. Your precious Lady Maurette is a fool if she imagines that, by dint of her relationship with my brother, she can flout my authority. You and all the servants know this to be true. You have seen what happens to those who try."

Kitty stifled a wretched sob.

"And don't sniffle, you loathsome baggage." Lydia released her grip on the girl, throwing her against the stone wall. Kitty slid down to the floor and huddled there beneath Lydia's fierce gaze. Maurette, astonished at such harsh behavior toward a servant, blazed from her chamber.

Kicking her bedcovers aside as she marched down the gallery, she cried, "Hold, Lydia. I will not stand for such cruel treatment of that young woman. You will leave her alone."

"And you," replied Lydia acidly, "will leave the running of my household and the chastising of my servants to me."

"Kitty is my servant," returned Maurette, her tone low and challenging. "I alone shall see to her chastisement, though I cannot imagine any such necessity. You are not to lay hands on this person again," she finished evenly.

Lydia's eyes hooded dangerously. Her silver glare impaled Maurette. "Do not test my power in this household, Lady Harper," she spat. "You have much to learn. Will be a harsh lesson for you if you persist in nudging at my patience." The bigger woman turned then and forged from the gallery.

With a ragged exhalation, Maurette reached for Kitty's hand and dragged her back into the bedchamber. Slamming the door behind them, she leaned against it.

"Oh, Kit," Maurette rasped. "That woman is devilish cruel, is she not?"

Kitty said nothing but moved about the chamber with quiet efficiency. She built up the fire and opened the window hangings to the morning sun. Maurette watched her in growing bemusement.

"Kit," she said finally, "Lady Hamilton manhandled and punished you for something that was not your fault. You have a right to be angry, at least here in this chamber."

"What's there f'r me t' be angry about?" stated Kitty stoically.

"Turn and face me, Kit," said Maurette after a pause.

The girl did so. "You have my protection," Maurette said gently.

"Lady Hamilton is mistress 'ere," Kitty said mechanically.

"I am your mistress now," said Maurette archly "Lady Hamilton has no power over you."

Kitty lowered her eyes. "She has power over everybody in this 'ouse, my lady."

"What power?" inquired Maurette with growing impatience.

Kitty shook her head sadly from side to side. "I ain't at liberty t' say, my lady," she murmured.

"Of course you are, Kit. I insist."

"Y'd best not insist," said Kitty ominously. "We seen what 'appens t' them what gits 'er blood up."

"You are being very dramatic, Kit," said Maurette, chastising the girl cheerfully. "In all events I can certainly count on Lord Warbrooke's protection."

Kitty's countenance darkened, but she said nothing. Maurette stiffened, and a sudden and inexplicable fear thrilled out from her very soul. She smiled with false brightness to cover the sudden wave of terror.

"You must leave Lydia to me, Kit," she said, laughing lightly. "I am stronger than I look."

Kitty regarded her mistress, and her big soft eyes became pools of sadness. "Don't git y'rself in no trouble on my account," she pleaded.

"I shall probably get myself into all sorts of trouble on your account, dear Kit," she said, moving to the girl. "I am, you see, quite well known in some circles for my recklessness." She moved with Kitty to the newly awakened fire and sat her down. Kitty gazed up adoringly at her mistress. Maurette went on brightly.

"We must begin to plan all sorts of things for you. I intend to tutor you. You shall be the finest tiring woman that anyone has ever known. Someday you may even learn to read." She smiled at the wrinkling of Kitty's nose at that prospect. "But we must keep our activities secret from Lady Hanlilton and, in truth, from all the household. There is no sense in tossing sparks into a tinder box."

Maurette was gratified at Kitty's small smile. She perceived that the girl was frightened-there was something very frightening here at Ravenshead - but in the weeks to come, Maurette vowed that she would inspire Kitty's confidence. Perhaps one-day she would know the source of the girl's fears.

Kitty tilted her head slightly, and her intelligent eyes glittered in the firelight. "Do y' really think th' likes 0' me could learn t' read?" she asked with wonder in her voice.

"I do, Kit," stated Maurette. "As for Lydia, I shall take full responsibility, should she find out. She is not the only powerful female in this house." As always, Lady Maurette Harper was displaying far more confidence than she actually felt.

Dominic had ridden out very early, accompanied by Geoffrey at his request. During the week since their arrival at Ravenshead, they had inspected the inlands to determine what condition they were in. Today they would begin to investigate the tenanted farms. Dominic had decided that he wished to speak with each family individually to discover how they were faring. Though the sun was little more than a crimson ribbon across the pale morning sky, the first farm at which he and Geoffrey arrived was already abuzz with activity.

A woman in a soiled mobcap and shawl was drawing water from a rain barrel. A half-dozen children rollicked as they fed a gaggle of noisy geese in the small front garden. A large bearded man teetered atop the roof of the house where he was mending the thatched slope. His mouth gaped open at Dominic's arrival.

"Moll, ol' girl," he shouted down to his wife, "strangers is comm'. I'll git me down from 'ere." He immediately started a slow slide off the pitched roof to the ground.

The woman gazed up at the tall intruder and his equally tall companion without comprehension as they dismounted before the garden gate. The children suddenly became silent, and even the ordinarily aggressive geese scattered, seeming to sense the dismay of their owners.

"Are you the Garricks?" asked Dominic politely.

"We be they," answered the woman, thankful that she was at least partially hidden by the low hedge. Such a handsome stranger undid her usual lack of concern over her appearance. She swiped at a greasy tendril of hair that clung to her grimy cheek.

"I am Dominic Warbrooke." He bowed cordially.

"The young lord," the woman gaped.

At that moment her husband forged to her side. He pushed her disdainfully behind him and smiled broadly. "How do y, do, Y'r lordship," he said with excessive felicity. "Me woman ain't used t' visits from th' likes 0' you," he added as though he himself received noble visitors every day. "Y'll f'rgive 'er, I 'ope."

"Your good wife has done nothing untoward, Master Garrick," Dominic replied genially. "May I introduce my companion? This is Master Frobisher. He is acting as my lieutenant this day. May we stop inside for a few moments?"

"0' course y' c'n, Y'r lordship," the man exulted. "Y'r always welcome here, sir, always welcome." He shoved his timid wife aside and swept open the little gate. "C'm on in, Lord Warbrooke an' Master Frobisher. Th' wife'll git y' tea." He turned to the woman and said beneath his breath, "'Git to it, Y lazy wench."

The woman scuttled away, preceding the men into the small house. Master Garrick strolled majestically beside his exalted guests.

"So glad y, come t' call," he said expansively. "We ain't seen y, since y' was a lad, sir. 'Tis more'n a pleasure t' see y' now."

He ushered the two men into the dim house. The kitchen was the only visible room. Dominic noted a loft above their heads and gathered that it was where the family slept.

"Sit y' down, m' lords," said the man, drawing out two scabby stools and brushing at them with a thick weathered hand.

Dominic and Geoffrey sat and accepted the tankards of hot tea that the woman served them. They both took amused notice of the small faces that peeked round the doorframe.

"Git y' gone, y' little snipes," growled the man when he realized where the attention of his guests had come to rest.

Dominic held up his hand." 'Tis quite all right, master. Children do not disturb me," he said with a small smile, "though I have had little opportunity to acquaint myself with any in my life. Yours seem most affable," he added, as their faces vanished at their father's command.

"Thank y', m' lord," said the man with exaggerated pride. "Now what c'n we do f'r y'?"

"I have come to live at Ravenshead for the next year at least, and I wish to inspect my lands so that I may reacquaint myself with the life hereabouts."

"Thank God," breathed Mistress Garrick to the surprise of the men. Immediately chagrined, she placed a roughened hand over her mouth. Her husband stood and would have cuffed her had she rot hastily side-stepped the movement.

"Git y' gone, woman," he thundered. She fled toward the front door but stopped and turned toward Dominic before exiting.

"I jtis' want t' tell y', sir," she said with timid haste, "How sorry we all were about th' death 0' th' ol' lord." Then she scuttled from the room.

"I'll add me own sympathies t' that," said the man solemnly, "though I'd of 'ad it that th' wife should not speak out so. Th' ol' gentleman was right fair an, honest."

Dominic lifted a silver-raven brow. "Would you explain your wife's outburst?" he said quietly.

"I'd rather not, sir," Master Garrick said with deep embarrassment. "Women y, know . ." His voice trailed off. Dominic did not speak but waited for the man to continue. He swallowed hard. "I ain't one t' complain," he finally went on, but th' woman, sir, Lady 'amilton, Again he faltered beneath Dominic's stern perusal.

"Go on," said Dominic evenly.

The man looked to Geoffrey, pleading for help, but there was nothing for it but to continue." 'Tis grateful we are f'r th' life we got 'ere," he said, cursing his wife's loose tongue for forcing this issue. "I'd ne'er speak ill o' th' Lady 'amilton, sir. 'Tis only that ... well .. ." He rallied, and looking into Dominic's cold gray eyes, he decided to brazen out the rest of his statement. "She's raised th' rents, sir, an' we c'n barely make ends meet as 'tis We got fences t' mend, livestock t' replace, mouths t' feed."

"How much were the rents raised?" Dominic inquired.

"'Twice again as much as we was payin', sir," said the man. He shifted on his own low stool, his discomfort obvious. Geoffrey's brows came together as he looked sharply at Dominic. That man avoided his gaze.

"Is there anything else?" asked Dominic stiffly.

"There's been talk, m' lord," said the man hesitantly.

"Talk?" Dominic said.

"I don't like t' say it, but two years past little Alys Grimes went up t' th' castle t' work an' was ne'er sees again," said the man hurriedly.

"I do not understand," Dominic stated. He noted Geoffrey's sudden interest.

Master Garrick leaned forward, planing his large forearms on the table. "Ne'er seen ag'in," he repeated, emphasizing each word. "Up at the castle they said it that she run off, but we don't b'lieve it, sir. We git it from th' house servants that somethin' else might o' 'appened t' th' girl."

Dominic stood slowly. His eyes blazed a steely silver challenge. "Surely none among you suspects foul play."

Garrick's eyes widened at what he perceived to be barely contained wrath in the lord of the Ravenshead estates. Obviously, in some way, Garrick had overstepped some boundary that he had not known existed. He retreated far back onto his stool.

"I ne'er said that, m' lord," Garrick said, defeat clear in his tone."

There was a silence. When Dominic finally spoke, his voice was hard. "The girl was probably dissatisfied with her home life, as are so many young women today, and left without telling anyone. 'Tis a common occurrence. Young women these days tend to challenge the old order." He glanced at Geoffrey who was studying him shrewdly. "The girl was given to wild tales and disruptive behavior, I am told," Dominic went on rapidly.

"Oh, no, sir," Garrick interjected, raising himself. "Alys Grimes was th' sweetest little chit I ever met. She ne'er caused no trouble in 'er life."

Dominic leaned forward, his hands taut on the table before him. "I will hear no more of this, Master Garrick," he said stonily. "If I do, there will be trouble for you and for your neighbors. This gossip stops here and now, do you understand?"

Garrick nodded in instant acquiescence. He needed no Trouble with His Lordship. He smiled weakly as Dominic continued.

"Master Frobisher and I shall see to the Problems you have. We shall assist you with whatever repairs are needed. I shall see that your rents are returned to a more equitable rate. I shall see that your livestock is replaced and your lands prepared for winter. We shall work as hard as any of you. But"-the word was like cannon fire-"I will not tolerate another word about my sister."

Dominic turned and headed for the low doorway. He ducked as he forged from the room. Mounting his horse without further word or gesture, he rode off. Geoffrey had a difficult time catching up with him.

When at last the two men rode side by side, Dominic wheeled his horse and skidded to a stop. Geoffrey heeled up beside him. The pale sun glistened on the dust caused by their quick stop. Only early-morning bird songs and the distant roar of the sea invaded the silence between them. Pain and anger warring in his countenance, Dominic finally spoke.

"I am aware of certain resentments toward my sister," he said, masking all his emotion. "I will not tolerate them-not from servants and not from tenants and not from any member of my household. I do not understand why rents were raised, and I do not understand what happened to Alys Grimes. I know only one thing; my sister has done the best she could for the past ten years. She has kept Ravenshead alive so that I could be in service to our queen." If his tone had remained even, his words were now a litany.

"Lydia was not yet twelve years old when our mother died. I was little more than a babe. Our father, as you know, was an active man and merchant and rarely at home. My sister and I are inseparable. As we grew, her devotion to me never wavered. There developed between us a love that years and changes of circumstance could not diminish." He hesitated and then went on softly.

"When I was a lad, I went to play one afternoon on the rocky shoals below the castle. I had been warned, on pain of severe punishment, not to play there. But, being willfully and often disobedient, I went there anyway. I was cavorting upon a high rock when my foot slipped and I slid down toward the waters below. As I fell, I grasped onto the hanging branch of a tree that was growing out near the shoreline.

"I clung to the branch but was unable to regain a foothold. I called and called for help, but the roar of the sea drowned out my child's voice. Night came and with it an ebbing of my strength. I was about to give myself to the raging sea and to the pull of the undertow when, unbelievably, I saw in the dark distance a circle of torchlight. It was moving in a wavering path toward where I hung against the slippery rock. The voice that accompanied the light was that of my sister. She was calling my name.

"With a last effort, I cried out. I saw the light move swiftly toward me. Suddenly Lydia's face was above me. She set her torch in a chink between two rocks and stepped out onto the escarpment from which I had slipped. Lying down on her stomach, she reached over and, with loving arms, she grasped my waist. She was not strong enough to pull me up, and so she held me there against the rock with her arms locked round me. The waves were smashing over the shelf where she lay and nearly engulfing both of us, but Lydia held on.

"Through the night the sea pounded us relentlessly, whipping our fragile young bodies. Lydia said prayers our mother had taught us and sang - soothing melodies all through that terrifying night.

"When the sun rose, we began to call out again. Through the long dawn, we waited and called for help.

Finally we managed to gain the attention of our father's man, Rodrigo the dwarf. He was standing on a high tor overlooking the rocky shoals. Being small but powerfull, he was able to make his way down the sheer drop of the cliff wall to us. He leaned over the rock with Lydia and grabbed onto me, and with his strength and Lydia's presence, my life was saved.

"Our father will whip you soundly for being down there, he said later when we told him the story of how we came to be in such a predicament. 'Our father will not whip him, Rodrigo,' stated Lydia. 'Our father will not know of this incident.' 'He will know,' Rodrigo answered, 'for I shall tell him.' Lydia simply stared at the little man. She did not speak for many moments. Finally she said in a very soft tone, 'If you tell him, I shall kill you.'

The dwarf laughed. "Tis for his own good,' he said.

"We were standing in the kitchen, Lydia and I dripping and cold and exhausted. Suddenly, my sister snatched a butchering knife from the wooden block in the center of the room and held the point to Rodrigo's throat. 'If you tell our father of Dominic's disobedience, I shall kill you,' she said, and as she spoke, she pushed the knife into Rodrigo's flesh, drawing a small trickle of blood.

"Neither he nor I doubted Lydia's resolve. Rodrigo stood there rigidly, for he did not dare retaliation against the titled daughter of the house, but his eyes were filled with rage and humiliation. None of us ever repeated the story."

Dominic was silent for many moments, his gaze resting on some far memory. When at last he met Geoffrey's eyes, his own contained a deep tenderness. "You have wondered at my loyalty to Lydia. It stems from her profound loyalty to me.

"So much has happened to her; her motherless adolescence, her widowhood, her trials with our father and this estate. She seems to have grown hard, but for me she is and ever will be the tender sister of my youth." Dominic stopped abruptly, daring Geoffrey to respond.

That man took up Dominic's challenge. "And Rodrigo?" he asked.

"Rod has hated Lydia ever since that day. He has hated her to the extent that he came to me after my father committed suicide and wound a wild tale of Lydia having kidnapped the old man and imprisoned him inside the castle."

"What did you do?"

Dominic's face darkened. "I had him tortured.. He nearly died for his unholy lies."

"Did you ever question Lydia about the story?" Geoffrey asked.

"I did," said Dominic. "She did not bother to deny the story. I remember well her tears. 'The little man has finally had his revenge,' she said. 'There is no revenge for him, unless I believe his story,' I said. I told Lydia that I would have him killed for the lying serpent that he was. I nearly did-would have, in truth, had Lydia not interceded for him. The servants still speak of that time and shudder at what they perceive to be my cruelty. I cannot stop their talk, but the incident served as warning to them all that I will not tolerate any condemnation of Lydia."

Geoffrey eyed Dominic keenly. "'Tis hard to imagine that little man holding onto his hatred for so many years.

"But he did," stated Dominic. "He admitted that he wished to defame my sister for her treatment of him that day in the kitchen."

"Under the duress of torture," said Geoffrey quietly.

Dominic swung his head up. "Do not defend that man's infamy to me, Geoff," he grated. "Even when the torture was over, Rod begged our forgiveness. He pleaded to be allowed to remain at Ravenshead. He lives here under Lydia's protection to this day. Lydia regards him as a treasured servant for all his ignoble treatment of her."

"Because of her forbearance, even I have come to look upon Rodrigo with kindness. The hardness of spirit that Lydia has acquired over the years must surely be overlooked in the light of such gallantry."

"And what of Alys Grimes?" asked Geoffrey without emotion.

We have already discussed her, and Lydia has forwarded a perfectly acceptable explanation for the chit's disappearance. Whatever anyone may feel, I believe her explanation. I want no further innuendo against my sister. You and everyone else would do well to remember that."

Dominic spurred his horse. It wheeled and reared, its great hooves clawing at the air. Horse and rider thundered q off in a shower of dust and stones.

Geoffrey sat sill, stride his own mount. Ben had been right when he said that, where Lydia was concerned, Dominic was blinded by loyalty. The lines had been carefully drawn. And, in truth, Dominic had his reasons for his hot defense of his sister. The wild story that Rodrigo had contrived was as cruel an imputation as any that Geoffrey had ever heard. Lydia was hard, but she was no monster.

And if there was a mystery regarding Alys Grimes, Geoffrey reflected, it was not his purpose to reason it. The girl, he remembered, had a penchant for gossip, and a roving eye. Perhaps Lydia had driven her off, or maybe Alys had left in a snit. Whatever the cause, Geoffrey reminded himself, he was but a guest in this house and no instrument revelation.. Resignedly, he spurred his horse and trotted off to catch up to Dominic Warbrooke.