ROMANTIC VENTURE

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

In early summer, Lydia watched, fascinated, as the legation of men rode through the portcullis. The old gatekeeper was waving joyously as the horses passed him in a cloud of dust. The men hailed him in high good spirits, their mission having been completely successful. Giambelli, the Italian inventor of the weapon that would win their battle with Spanish, was safely tucked away in London. Dominic wheeled his horse as he approached the front entry to the castle. He looked around, surprised to find that Maurette was not there to greet him. Surely the messenger he had sent with the news of his arrival would have been there by now. In one powerful motion, he dismounted and ran up the steps. He stopped short, however, in the face of a most sedate welcome. Old Jonathan was there with Ben and Kitty. Their faces told him that something was seriously amiss.

"What is it?" he said, checking his enthusiasm. He looked into the great hall for Lydia, who had not appeared. "You had better speak," said Dominic, still not allowing a terrible fear entrance into his conscious thought. "Has the west tower burned or the hounds run off?" he inquired with a smile. "What has happened that you all seem so loath to relate?" Geoffrey Frobisher moved in beside Dominic, and a look of puzzlement arched his thick brow.

. "Why is everyone so dour?" he said with a lightness that he suddenly did not feel. He spotted Kitty. "There's my little muffin," he said and moved to sweep her into his big arms. "Did you miss me?"

Suddenly Kitty began to cry. Sobs racked her small body. "She.. . she is. . ." The girl could not finish the statement and collapsed into Geoff's embrace.

Dominic stiffened. "I would know what has transpired in my absence," he said brusquely, his manner shielding his growing fear. Ben looked up over the steel rims of his spectacles. His eyes held profound pity, and as he moved to Dominic, the big man girded himself.

"She is gone," said Ben, placing his hand on Dominic's broad shoulder.

"Gone!" thundered Dominic.

"Dead," said Ben quietly Dominic's reaction startled even the stoic Jonathan, who prided himself on his imperturbability.

"No!" Dominic roared. "No, I do not believe it!" He took the little doctor by the front of his blouse and lifted him off the ground. "You are a toad-eating liar, Ben Tremain." Geoffrey was behind Dominic in a flash, grabbing his arms to pull him off the doctor.

"She is not dead!" thundered the terrible raging voice as Ben was shaken by Dominic's unrelenting hold. Jonathan tried to come between the two, but was thrust by the force of Dominic's rage across the floor. Kitty ran to Ben and tried to pry him from the whipcord ferocity of Dominic's attack.

"She is not dead!" he shouted over and over-until his voice became the bellow of a wounded animal.

In the raging horror of the moment, no one noticed the figure of Lydia on the turret stair at the north corner of the great chamber. She stood straight with her hands folded placidly before her. "She Is dead, Dominic," she called out. "Maurette is dead." Her voice resonated and echoed from the high ceiling. Dominic released his grip on Ben and put his hands over his ears.

"I will not hear it!" he thundered. "I will not hear it!" His great bulk staggered about the room, blindly knocking over tables and statuary. "Noooooo!" he bellowed like an enraged beast. As he advanced on Lydia, all girded themselves for an attack, but he simply stood before her and suddenly fell to the floor at her feet. Grasping at her knees, he fell against her and began to sob horribly. Lydia lowered a hand to his head.

"'Tis true, Dominic," she said softly. "Maurette is dead." At her words, he slid to the ground and pulled himself into a tight knotted ball. Lydia knelt at his side. She rubbed her bony hand over his muscled back and shoulders. " 'Tis a truth that we have all been facing for weeks now."

Ben regarded her with profound disdain, finding it difficult to credit Lydia's seeming sympathy, but for the moment his real concern was Dominic. He straightened his hose and accepted his spectacles from a pale and shaken Jonathan. Geoffrey was holding Kitty in a comforting embrace, which she returned.

They all eyed the stricken Dominic. None of them had ever witnessed such pain in a man, and their hearts were gripped in an agony of compassion. They had shared much grief at the knowledge of Maurette's death, but all their torment combined could not match the depth of misery that Dominic now endured. His agonized sobs clutched at their hearts; and they stood in silence watching his anguish.

Ben moved to Dominic's side. He knelt near him and, regarding Lydia coldly, addressed his friend. "Let me help you, Dominic," he said gently The bigger man allowing himself to be helped to his feet, and together they moved across the room to the grand staircase. His arm slung heavily over Ben's narrow shoulders, Dominic climbed the steps to his chamber.

No one spoke. Jonathan wiped at his forehead and again straightened his livery before following Doctor Tremain and Lord Warbrooke up the stairs. Geoffrey and Kitty found solace in each other's arms as they too left the room. Only Lydia remained.

She glanced about the chamber with an air of satisfied contempt. Soon she would have everything she had planned. She would correspond with the former Spanish ambassador. As soon as Dominic had left, which Lydia had no doubt that he would, now that Maurette was gone, she would inform Mendoza that he would be welcomed there and that Medina Sidonia could use the estate as a refuge from which to direct the attack of the invincible Armada on the English Navy.

At last, Lydia would see the overthrow of the arrogant little queen who had caused the death of the rightful heir to the throne, Mary Queen of Scots. She sighed a comfortable sigh. She must now go up to her chapel and pray that all would go well. She had no fears. After all, she reasoned, she had the power of good on her side.

Some time before, Rodrigo had returned safely from his short journey around the Ravenshead estate. He had secured the letter that had been sent to Maurette's family, placed the ring inside, and put it back with the other, carefully censored mail out of Ravenshead.

Upon Rodrigo's return, he had discovered that Maurette had been weaning the older Warbrooke from his drug-induced somambulance. Lydia and Lucius made cursory checks on the old man, but as neither of them were truly interested in him at this point, the task of fooling them was not a difficult one. Terrence had merely to look into the middle distance whenever one of them approached to satisfy their investigation.

Maurette's billowing girth had been instrumental in warding off Lucius's attentions. In the early weeks of her imprisonment, the very real fact of her consuming nausea had discouraged any advances he might have made toward her. Though he had been initially frustrated and had raged on many occasions, he now seemed content to look into her eyes and speak of the great love he bore her. His protestations, however, involved little more than long diatribes on what they would do together after her babe was born. Maurette successfully hid her disgust at the images and silently thanked her own private G-d that Lucius had never had his way with her.

Lydia had made brief visits to the dungeon to recount the depression of this or that household member over Maurette's untimely demise. The older woman seemed to revel in the decline of the high spirits that Maurette had brought to Ravenshead. Everything, in Lydia's eyes, was back to normal.

Terrence Warbrooke was now fully aware of his circumstances, for Maurette and Rodrigo had apprised the old man of all that had happened in the household. His silver head had bowed when he heard of Lydia's treachery. His greatest sadness, however, was over what they were now doing to his son.

"'Tis a man's greatest sadness to lose the woman he loves," he said one day, tears shimmering in his eyes. "I lost my dear Anna many years ago. And now my children are lost to me as well."

"Your son will know you very soon," said Maurette with certainty. "There is no doubt that we shall escape from this place. Rod has successfully planted my ring in the outgoing mail. My grandmother; Lady Violet, has by now received it, and at any moment, she will appear at Ravenshead to uncover this evil plot."

Maurette's faith in the future kept both men from giving in to hopelessness Terrence patted her bulging abdomen one day and smiled. "I pray 'tis true, my dear;" he said. All three of them laughed. In truth, Maurette's size had taken much of the pressure off them.

As the weeks had passed, Lucius had visited her less and less. This had been a relief, particularly to Rodrigo, who still carried his dirk and had been much inclined to use it on several occasions. He would not see the gentle Maurette ravaged by the insane brute, Lucius, and yet, he still remained a fear for his daughter, Kitty.

All three were careful to maintain an appearance of desolation for the enjoyment of Lydia and Lucius, but in truth, they had abandoned themselves to hope. A buoyant atmosphere of tenacious optimism pervaded their days, and they existed in companionable vigilance in that dusky, decaying chamber.

One day after Lydia had left them, Maurette smiled. "She has arrived," she breathed.

Rodrigo quirked an eyebrow at her. "What say you, child?" he asked.

"My Grandmama has come. I know it." Her eyes were a sparkle with certainty.

"How could you know such a thing?" inquired Terrence, his own gray eyes taking on an expectant glitter.

Maurette explained that Lydia had been particularly cruel in her relating of Maurette's family's travail over her so-called death. "And how would she know," Maurette added conspiratorially, "that my family had been particularly heart sore? She could have received a letter, of course, but her description of their pain seemed so real to me. I am certain that she has seen my grandmother. She spoke of the sadness in her eyes. Yes!" Maurette burst excitedly. "She could not know of my grandmother's blue blue eyes, for Lydia has never met her." The three danced around the chamber in an ecstasy for exultation. When they had composed themselves, Rodrigo smiled ruefully. "But," he said, "we cannot be positive that this Lady Violet will be able to engineer our escape."

Maurette's chin lifted, and she regarded Rodrigo archingly, "You have apparently never met my grandmother, either," she said. They all laughed once again and, for the first time, truly believed that their freedom was imminent.

Dominic's storm of protest over Maurette's demise had taken on a new tone after his first outbreak of rage. He sat in his chamber on the edge of his small bed for two days, neither sleeping nor eating. His only solace seeming to be the reading and rereading of his favorite poems by Master Marlowe. Kitty had attempted to bring him food but he had dismissed her from his sight with curt wave of his hand. An oath or two had passed his lips, and Geoffrey had protested Dominic's treatment of Kitty, but he had merely stared his friend down. Even Ben could not penetrate Dominic's hard shell.

It was with much trepidation, therefore, that on the third day of his self-imposed confinement, Lady Violet was ushered into his chamber. The small, elegant countess of Audley stood in the narrow doorway, regarding Dominic's despairing posture with no small amount of disdain. "You must rouse yourself from this indulgence Dominic, and find Maurette."

There had been no amenable preamble to her terse words, and Dominic raised his red-rimmed eyes to determine who addressed him thus. His steel-eye gaze became one of astonishment as he realized who the intruder was. "Lay Violet!" he gaped. "What are you doing here at Ravenshead?"

"My granddaughter sent for me," she said pertly. "And I would suggest that you begin looking for her."

Dominic lowered his big head. "She is dead, my lady," he said with sorrow.

"She is no such thing," Lady Violet snapped. "She is not dead and certainly not by her own hand." Her small chin shot up, and Dominic raised his eyes to regard her with pity.

"'Tis hard to accept such a thing," he allowed.

"'Tis not hard. 'Tis impossible," she stated archly. "By G-d's blood, Dominic Warbrooke, do you believe that our Maurette would take such a cowardly course? If you know anything at all about the child, you know that she is not a coward." She moved toward him and placed her hand beneath his chin. Raising his face, she caught him in a sapphire gaze.

"Maurette Harper would not take her own life, nor would she sacrifice the life of your babe. I perceive that you love her, young Raven. Let the power of that love guide you in this." She drew her hand away, but her eyes still blazed. "You owe it to yourself and to Maurette and to your unborn babe to seek out the truth in this." She turned from him and paced to the hearth. Glancing toward the doorway where Kitty and Jonathan, Geoffrey. and Ben were lurking, she abruptly called out, "This fire has died. See it is built up." Jonathan bustled into the room and knelt before the hearth. "And you bring food, young woman. This man needs his strength." Dominic began to speak, but Lady Violet waved away his interruption with delicate fingers. "And get him a shirt," she said to Geoffrey and Ben who were frozen at the door.

The two men eyed the elderly little countess in bemusement. They wondered, with a frankness in their eyes that she found quite amusing, whether or not she was completely sane. Geoff shouldered his way into the room and drew a clean shirt from a chest.

"Will you put this on, Captain?" he said uncertainly.

"Not until he has had a sponging," stated Lady Violet with a wrinkle of her delicate nose. "I shall return in one half-hour. Please have him fed and properly turned out by then." As she left she noted with satisfaction that Dominic was being worked on by his two friends while Jonathan was feverishly attempting to light a fire with nervous fingers. Kitty returned in a short time with a tray of broth and cakes and attempted to spoon the heavy broth between Dominic's unwilling lips.

"You must eat, sir," she stated, "or I fear she shall be most dazzlingly angered. Oh, please, sir," desperation edged her voice, "eat!"

Looking at the girl, he arched a brow and realized that his own authority had been usurped by that arrogant little countess and that he could either resign himself to his friend's ministrations or bring the wrath of that lady down on their heads, to say nothing of his own. He allowed their ministrations but wondered stubbornly what Lady Violet thought she could accomplish with all of this. He was shaved and dressed and presentably turned out when Lady Violet returned on the dot of the half-hour.

"Now," she said, eyeing the five curious and harried people, "I want a full accounting of all that has happened." She sat attentively on the edge of a low stool, a small ornate cane that she had recently begun using propped before her. They all began to talk at once, and Lady Violet splayed a hand to stop the incomprehensible jumble of words. "One at a time, please," she said kindly, indicating with her cane that Dominic should begin.

Lady Violet interrupted only when a question needed to be asked for her complete clarification. "Who gave you the note?" she asked Ben. Then to Kitty she said, "Why did this Lady Hamilton person say she was so concerned for Dominic's safety?" And, "Where, exactly, was she supposed to have jumped from?"

When she was finally satisfied she had the story, to which all of them had made contributions and observations, Lady Violet stood. "Someone has done a fine job of gulling us all," she stated., " 'Tis obvious to me that my granddaughter is very much alive. She has been taken-kidnapped-for some reason and hidden, I should surmise, somewhere in this very castle."

The five people regarded the woman in amazement. They could not credit her conclusion, and yet, for Dominic's four friends, the lady's statement came as a welcome explanation. It was the first time any of them had seen any measure of hope in Dominic for three days. Ben shook his head in consternation. He prayed that Lady Violet was not raising false optimism.

"What makes you so sure, Lady Violet, that Maurette is alive?" he ventured.

"Because I know my granddaughter. And because of this," she stated, holding out her hand, palm up, for their inspection. On its pale surface lay the small platinum band. "the day she left with you for Ravenshead, Dominic, I gave her this. I told her that she was to send it to me if ever I was needed and I would come to her. This ring arrived with the letter that told us of Maurette's death. I noted that the seal on the letter had been broken and an attempt had been made to reseal it. "'Twas my theory that the ring was inserted after the letter had been sent." She looked down fondly on the little band.

"The child must have thought me dotty when she received this ring and my promise of assistance. She must have wondered what an old lady could possibly do in, desperate situation. Well," she said, looking up and holding the others in her blazing sapphire gaze, "I shall tell you what an old lady can do. She can rouse five people to find the truth behind a nefarious plot. She call tell them to go down into the labyrinthian bowels of this old haunt and find her granddaughter I shall have no more of this indulgent whining you all seemed to have been engaged in. I shall have results, or I shall know the reason why. Start the search immediately. I shall do some digging of my own." With a flash of sapphire and a buoyant wave of her white hand, she left the chamber.

The five people regarded each other in bemusement.

"What shall we do, Captain?" said Geoffrey.

"It seems," said Dominic, rising elatedly from his bed, "that we shall find Maurette."

Lydia sat in the withdrawing room, sipping at tea. She tucked a tendril of gray hair into her coif and regarded the lady across from her warily. "What exactly is your purpose in coming here, Lady Violet?"

The older woman smiled a sad, sweet old lady smile. "'Tis such a difficult thing to accept," she said in a small voice. "My granddaughter was, you see, such a vibrant young thing. I suppose," she added, allowing a tear to spill onto her parchment white cheek, "I simply could not believe her death until I saw this place for myself. I know I am too old to be traipsing off on such a journey, and, in truth, 'twas unfair to drag my poor old servant, Edyth, from the comforts of London, but," she said reflectively. "I could not go to my grave without viewing the place where my granddaughter spent her last days." She sipped at her tea and regarded Lydia forlornly. "You understand, I pray."

"Indeed," Lydia replied, lifting her own cup to her lips. She was not entirely certain she could trust the countess's motives.

"Were you close to Maurette?" asked Lady Violet sweetly.

"We were, in truth, very close after Dominic had left for Italy," Lydia said levelly. "Did she write you of that circumstance?"

"Alas, no," sighed the older woman. "Please tell me how you found each other."

"We spent many long afternoons discussing Dominic's mission. I suppose I was particularly frightened because, if anything happened to him, I would be left completely alone. After our father's death two years ago-,"

"Your father's death?" interjected Lady Violet.

"Yes," said Lydia mildly, noting the sudden flash of interest in Lady Violet's eyes. "He also took his own life."

"Really," said Lady Violet earnestly. "What an odd and unfortunate coincidence."

"I had warned your granddaughter of Ravenshead's isolation from the start. She did not immediately take to me, and that is probably the reason. I must have seemed the very voice of doom to such a vivacious girl, but I felt it my obligation to tell her of the loneliness and the solitude that attends a life here." Lydia set down her cup with a click. "She did not believe me."

"Maurette was never given to dark musings, Lady Hamilton. But she is-was-young. The young do not know, as we do, what such a life can do to one. It distorts one's perception of reality. It can even make one bitter," she said philosophically.

"Yes," stated Lydia evenly. "For some it is not a good life. I have found it to be most amenable to my needs, however."

"Mmmmm," Lady Violet agreed vaguely. "You shall be most happy, I would imagine, when we have all left you to your peace. I suppose Dominic will not be staying on, now that Maurette is ... gone?"

"Oh, I should think not," said Lydia.

"I shall not be staying long myself," said Lady Violet, setting down her cup. "'Tis my intent to leave within the next few days." She chuckled. "You may be certain that Edyth will balk at that. When my tiring woman reaches a place, she enjoys staying there for a time before she undertakes the journey back. Our progresses with Her Majesty become more difficult each year."

"Her? Majesty?" inquired Lydia.

"Yes. We shall be leaving for Hampton Court to attend her when we leave here. Then we shall be on to Nonsuch for the hunting season, and then, heaven knows where. 'Tis a tiring schedule Her Majesty keeps, but 'tis never boring." Lady Violet laughed resignedly.

"You are friend to Queen Elizabeth?" Lydia asked stiffly.

"Oh, indeed. We have been so for years," said the older woman comfortably. "That good lady has watched Maurette grow up. I should not wish to be the one to tell her of this present circumstance. She will be mightily upset. Would not surprise me at all if she were to send her ministers here to investigate this terrible event." She caught Lydia's gaze in her own. "They will find the child's body, or the queen will know the reason why. 'Tis a serious business when a person take his or her own life. And now you have had two suicides here. 'Tis no small thing, Lady Hamilton."

Lydia said nothing, but her eyes flared with what Lady Violet perceived to be a combination of rage and fear.

"If I were you," said the countess flatly, "I would gird myself for such a visit."

Lydia rose with a suddenness that sent tendrils of hair sliding down from her upswept coif. "I must see if Dominic will attend us. He would know of the possibility of such a thing."

Lady Violet smiled a narrow smile as Lydia forged from the room. She looked up into the silver gaze of the ubiquitous raven.

"You, my friend," she said, pointing at the ungentle looking thing, "are about to topple."