Falconridge Read online

  “I’m afraid not,” I said haughtily. “I don’t care to associate with arrogant young men who go around insulting people they’ve never so much as been introduced to.”

  “La, la,” he said, clicking his tongue. “Such airs! Delightful, absolutely delightful. Where did you learn to talk like that, lass?”

  “That’s none of your affair,” I replied.

  He slapped his knee and threw back his head, laughing. It was a rich, beautiful sound. He was a handsome fellow, with dark, dancing blue eyes and thick glossy black hair that fell in waves over his forehead and curled at the nape of his neck. His lips were large, and there was a deep clef in his chin that gave his whole face a look of devilish merriment. He wore glossy black boots, tight black pants and a white linen shirt with full, gathered sleeves. It was open at the throat, exposing part of his chest.

  He swung off the horse in one quick, graceful movement, and I saw that he was very tall, over six feet, with powerful shoulders and the fine muscular body of an athlete. He stood with his fists on his hips, his dancing blue eyes mocking me. He arched one thick black eyebrow, grinning. I backed away a little, not really frightened, although I could sense the strength and power of the man, and it disturbed me. I stared back at him, my chin held high.

  “You’ve got a streak of dirt on your chin,” he said, chuckling.

  I wiped it away quickly, trying to keep my composure. He took a step towards me, holding his head down and looking up at me with his eyes. They were filled with mischief. I backed away, almost stumbling over a rock. My hat fell off, tumbling down among the poppies. I had already dropped my sketch book.

  “You don’t know who I am,” he said. “I’ll show you.”

  “Keep away from me,” I replied.

  “Are you afraid of me?” he asked, smiling.

  “Not at all.”

  “Then why do you back away?”

  “Go away,” I said. “Get on your horse and go, or I’ll.…”

  “You’ll what?”

  “Never mind. Just go!”

  “I can’t do that, not until I’ve taken a toll.”

  “A toll? What are you talking about?”

  “You’re trespassing. You’re on my property. You must pay a toll, or I won’t let you go. Come here, lass, pay up.”

  I knew who he was then. I had sensed it all along. I was not going to let him know who I was, not just yet. I was certainly meeting my cousin in an unusual manner, and I wanted to see just how far he would go with his insolence.

  “But I have no money,” I said.

  “It’s not money I want,” he replied, the grin broadening.

  “Surely, Sir, I don’t know what you could want then. I have no valuables.…”

  “We’ll see,” he cried.

  He took my wrist and pulled me into his arms. He swung me around, holding me casually yet firmly against him. He was grinning as he covered my lips with his own. I tried to struggle, but his arms kept me imprisoned. He released me, laughing.

  “There,” he said, “paid in fulll.”

  I slapped him across the face as hard as I could. My hand stung with the force of it, but Norman Wade merely laughed. Then he seized me again, cupping his hand about my chin. “That calls for another,” he said, and he kissed me again.

  Then he let go of me. I stepped back, biting my lips. My eyes were blazing. I was angry with myself for letting the masquerade go so far, even angrier at Norman Wade for his intolerable conduct.

  “Now do you know who I am?” he asked.

  “You’re the Devil!” I cried.

  “With the ladies, yes. Ask the girls about Norman. Wade. They’ll tell you some pretty stories, lass.”

  “I’m sure of that!”

  “La, la, such a temper. Now run along, lass, and you’d better not let me find you on this property again, or the toll will be much dearer, much dearer.”

  He walked back to his horse, swaggering a little. I watched as he mounted. He had the audacity to nod his head and wave before he rode away. I plucked a poppy and crushed it in my hand, consumed with anger. The day was spoiled for me, the peace and serenity gone. Norman Wade had destroyed it all, pulling me back into the world of emotions. Oh, yes, I knew who he was, and he was soon going to find out who I was. I was eager to see his expression when he did.

  I was particular in my preparations for dinner that night. I wanted to look my best. I wore my best green taffeta and piled my hair in heavy curls on top of my head, fastening them with a black velvet ribbon. I had come back to Falconridge without meeting anyone, and now it was time to go down for the evening meal. Lucy fussed over me, chattering about the arrival of Norman Wade and how she knew I would like him. I tried to hush her up, but she smiled, looking pleased with herself.

  “I know why you’re dressin’ so elegant,” she said. “All the ladies want to look their best for ’im.”

  “How ridiculous,” I retorted. “Do stop jabbering, Lucy. I am tired of listening to you.”

  “You look so lovely,” she said, smiling happily. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you ’n Mr. Norman were to.…”

  “That will be enough!” I said sharply.

  I was deliberately late for dinner. They were already in the dining room, waiting for me. I paused for a moment at the door, holding my breath, then I sailed in, smiling, the taffeta skirts rustling. My uncle and Norman Wade were standing at the side table. Aunt Helena was fidgeting with her fan, glancing at the clock.

  “Here she is!” she exclaimed. “Dear, I want you to meet Norman. He’s been asking about you.”

  He turned around. He slowly arched an eyebrow, and his lips gave a little twitch, but other than that he showed no surprise. He was in complete control of himself. He bowed politely and took my hand, kissing it gallantly. I thought I noted a dark glimmer of anger in his eyes. He was very elegantly dressed in a suit of dove gray and a vest of sky blue satin, sewn with tiny black leaves. A lock of his glossy black hair had fallen across his forehead when he bowed, and he pushed it back. I could sense his animosity.

  “Lauren has been tromping about in the woods today,” Helena said. “She wanted to explore a bit, see the countryside.”

  “Oh? And did you meet anyone, Miss Moore?” he asked.

  “No one worth mentioning,” I replied sweetly.

  “I do hope you two are going to get along,” Helena exclaimed. “It’s so nice for us all to be together like this.”

  “I am certain my cousin and I shall get along,” he replied. “She is a charming, delightful creature, Aunt, full of the most unusual traits. Very accomplished.”

  “Accomplished?” my aunt said, slightly puzzled.

  “Why, look at her. Such poise, such refinement. One would hardly take her for a peasant.”

  “Not unless one were very foolish,” Helena replied.

  “Foolish is as foolish does,” Norman Wade said, looking at me from under his long black lashes. “Men are strange creatures, Aunt. It’s very easy to make a fool of them—once. But once you make a fool of them, you find it very hard to do it a second time.”

  “Unless that is their nature,” I added, smiling politely.

  “Let’s stop this mysterious talk and eat,” my uncle said, impatient with the conversation.

  We sat down and the servants began to bring in the food. Norman Wade sat directly across from me, and although he talked charmingly with my aunt, he did not address a single word to me. Once, during a lull, I caught his eyes on me. I stared at him boldly. Seeing the dark blue flash in his eyes, I knew that he blamed me entirely for this afternoon’s incident. I lowered my eyes demurely. He had made a fool of himself, but perhaps he had been taught a lesson by it. He would not be so likely to accost young women now, I thought, at least without hesitating first.

  “We must have a party,” Helena was saying, “A grand affair to celebrate Lauren’s arrival. Don’t you think so, Charles? We haven’t thrown open Falconridge for a long time. We’ll invite everyone, the Vicar,
Lady Randall and that stupid husband of hers, Mr. and Mrs. Henderson, all the gentry. What fun.…”

  “If it would please you, Helena,” Charles Lloyd said, obviously quite bored by the idea.

  “And the music—we must have music so that the young people can dance. Yes, the ballroom hasn’t been used in so long.…”

  “It would be quite expensive,” Norman Wade said.

  “Tish! Who cares about money if there is fun to be had?”

  “All of us had better start caring,” he replied. “I’ve been going over the books. Things are not well. If this year’s harvest isn’t good, we might be in a bad shape, really bad shape.”

  “Don’t be a wet blanket, Norman. Very well, I’ll draw on my personal account. There isn’t much—but there’s enough for a party, surely. If not—I’ll hock the jewels!”

  “I wasn’t speaking in jest, Aunt,” he said solemnly.

  “Neither was I,” she replied airily. She turned to me.

  “It will be so exciting, making plans. It’ll take at least a month to get everything ready. The first thing we are going to do is go see Lavinia about your clothes. Several dresses, I would think, and a grand ball gown, something spectacular to show you off to all the neighbors. I am wondering if white satin.…”

  “How is that?” Charles Lloyd asked, addressing himself to Norman Wade and referring to his earlier remark.

  “You know how poor the yield was last year. There was the blight, you remember, those damn grasshoppers. The tenants are complaining this year. They’re not happy with the seed—inferior grade, they say, and your man Graystone hasn’t provided enough fertilizer.…”

  “So you two have been at it again?” my uncle said.

  “No. I stopped by a couple of the farms on the way home. I talked to the men. I saw the conditions for myself. I saw just how slovenly Graystone has been in his duties. There was a lack of tools, for one thing, and on one farm the barn had been damaged by the winds and Graystone hadn’t done anything about getting it repaired.”

  “He will in time,” Charles Loyd replied.

  “In time!” Norman Wade answered heatedly. “How can you be so disinterested? The estate is going steadily downhill, and you sit there sipping your wine and won’t even listen to me.…”

  “Falconridge doesn’t belong to you yet, Norman,” Charles Lloyd said coldly. I could see that he was not happy with his nephew’s words. Both men were on the verge of anger. I could sense the tension betwen them. Helena stopped her chattering about the party, frowning.

  “I’m well aware of that,” Norman Wade replied. “If it did, Graystone would have been sacked months ago.”

  “Graystone is a perfectly good bailiff, Norman. He may not have a fine college education like you, but just because he didn’t go to Oxford doesn’t mean he can’t run this estate.”

  “Graystone is a blundering, slovenly oaf! If I weren’t here to look after the place, Lord knows where we would be. I simply can’t understand why you keep the man on. Sometimes I think.…”

  “What do you think, Nephew?” my uncle asked. His eyes were black with anger, and his cheeks were a little flushed. His hands were balled into fists on the table in front of him.

  “Sometimes I think he is holding something over you,” Norman Wade replied, speaking very slowly. “Sometimes I think you are afraid to let him go. That’s the only reason I can think of for your keeping such an incompetent lout on the place.”

  My uncle stood up and tossed his napkin on the table. I could see him fighting to control his rage. A vein throbbed in his temple, and he was white about the lips. He looked formidable. Helena clasped her hands together, a deep furrow creasing her brows. I had gone a little pale myself.

  “That will do,” Charles Lloyd said. “That will do quite well for now, Nephew. I think you’ve gone a bit far this time. Yes, I think you’ve gone just a bit far.”

  He walked out of the room without losing his dignity. I had to admire the way he had handled himself. Norman Wade sat back from the table, one leg tossed over the arm of his chair. He had his napkin balled up in one hand, and he stared down at his plate sullenly, his hair falling over his forehead.

  “Oh dear,” Helena said. “Must you two always bicker like this, Norman? It’s in deplorable taste—and in front of Lauren, too. What will she think of us?”

  “I am sure my dear cousin would prefer to see the true side of the family,” he said, tossing the napkin on the table. “We don’t want her to have false ideas. She may have been sheltered in her private school, but this is real life.”

  “Real life needn’t be filled with rudeness,” Helena said, rising. She gathered up her skirts and walked to the door, very regal in her movements. “I am going up to my room now, children. Do either of you want anything before I go?”

  “I think I’ll take a walk in the gardens,” I said. “Some fresh air will do me good.”

  Helena and I left the room together, leaving Norman Wade sitting there with the candles guttering on the deserted table. I left Helena in the main hall and went outside. It was quite cool. Chilly zephyrs of breeze stroked my bare shoulders, but I welcomed the discomfort after the tension in the dining room.

  The sky was banked with dark, restless clouds that moved slowly across its surface. Luminous rays of moonlight poured through, although the moon itself was temporarily obscured. The courtyard was very dark, spread with dark shadows from the hedge. In one corner was a patch of moonlight and there the flagstones gleamed dark blue, coated with silver. The hedge rustled in the breeze, and the sound of the sea was very loud. I walked down the steps and into the gardens.

  It was calm here, restful. The gardens looked strangely eerie by moonlight, all moonlight-blue and gray with dark patches of black. The shadows were thick, moving across the pathway like live things. I went down to the pond where the water rippled in the breeze, very black, with shimmering streaks of silver. A moonbeam bathed the cracked fountain, gilding it, and a frog plopped off of it, splashing into the water. I shivered as the branches of a willow tree brushed against me.

  I was strangely puzzled by all this talk about Andrew Graystone. I had only been here two days, and yet his name had come up over and over again. Lavinia’s husband certainly made his presence felt around Falconridge. I wondered what kind of man he was. If he was such a brute, why did Lavinia continue to live with him? If he was so slovenly, why did my uncle retain his services? I thought about what Norman Wade had said. Could the man be blackmailing Charles Lloyd in some way? I found the idea highly unlikely. Charles Lloyd was not the kind of man to be blackmailed. He didn’t care enough about what people thought to want to hide anything from them.

  I thought about Norman Wade. He was undeniably handsome, and I was sure he had overwhelming charm when he chose to exercise it, but as far as I was concerned he was thoroughly unpleasant. He had seemed to resent my presence at the dinner table. Of course I had made a fool of him this afternoon, but that was hardly reason enough for those dark looks he had given me. It went deeper than that.

  I found myself wondering if there really was something about Falconridge that touched those who lived within its walls. No one seemed to be happy. I knew that although she tried to hide them by her chatter, even my aunt had moments of deep depression, and she had to take laudanum in order to sleep at night. I wondered what it was about the place. Lucy had mentioned an evil spell. That was ridiculous, of course, but still there was a certain atmosphere that seemed to cause restless feelings. Perhaps it was the constant sound of the sea and wind.

  I don’t know how long I stood there, watching the strands of silver moonlight swimming in the dark water. The moon came out from behind the bank of clouds and poured radiant light over everything, only to be obscured a few moments later by wisps of cloud. Leaves rustled, and the wind moaned, sounding forlorn. I was sad, and I didn’t know why. The gardens were suddenly depressing to me, the cracked fountain, the shabby borders. I turned to go back inside, and I gasped whe
n I saw the tall dark form standing a few yards away from me.

  “Thinking of something?” Norman Wade asked.

  I had not heard his footsteps, and I wondered how long he had been beside the trellis, watching me. He was smoking a cheroot, and the dark orange butt glowed brightly in the shadows. I could smell the burning tobacco. He tossed the cheroot aside. It made a vivid orange streak as it flew across the darkness. Norman Wade stepped towards me.

  “Maiden by moonlight,” he said, “lovely picture.”

  “If you came out here to be rude to me…” I began.

  “No,” he said, “I didn’t come to be rude, though I probably shall. It’s a habit with me.”

  “I’ve noticed that,” I replied.

  “You’ve got a sharp tongue, Miss Moore.”

  “Have I?”

  “Most assuredly. In fact, you’re not at all what you should be. You should be shy and docile. You should lower your eyes when men speak to you. You should be inside now, working on your embroidery or reading a sentimental novel. You should faint frequently and always have a bottle of smelling salts on hand.”

  “I’ve never fainted in my life,” I told him, my voice icy.

  “I don’t doubt it. I don’t doubt it at all. You certainly succeeded in making a fool of me this afternoon.”

  “You had it coming, Mr. Wade.”

  “Yes, I suppose I did. You knew who I was all along, didn’t you?”

  “I suspected it.”

  “And yet you went right along with your little game? I don’t think I owe you an apology for what happened. I think you had it coming. You were lucky to get off so lightly.”

  He laughed, a dry, short laugh that was not at all pleasant. I could see his face in the moonlight. It looked very solemn. The jaw was thrust forward and one brow was arched like a dark wing. The moon came out from behind the clouds again, scattering silver spangles of light over everything. Norman Wade looked beyond me, at the fountain. He seemed to be turning some problem over in his mind. For a moment he seemed to have forgotten my presence.

  “Well, so you’re at Falconridge,” he said finally. “Now what do we do about it?”