She pulled her handkerchief out of her cuff and began fanning herself. “Well, am I to see your manly self go up in smoke?”
Devlin paused, raised his face to the sun. He closed his eyes, groaned, and gave a mighty shudder. He quickly grabbed up his hat and plunked it back down over his brow. “I had every intention of pandering to your female curiosity, but alas, the sun is simply too strong for me today. Perhaps tomorrow.” He pulled his cravat around his neck and shrugged back into his coat, dusted himself off. He said, “I do not trust Richard Langworth, nor do I trust his father. I distrust the manor house itself. Its corners are cold and shadowed. There are lurking secrets making the air shimmer and darken.”
Roxanne was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Has Julian told you of any changes in the baron or his son? Or does murder still lurk in their hearts?”
“I plan to stick closer than plaster to my half-uncle. It is time for luncheon. Let’s go see what the Hardcross cook has conjured up for us.”
Roxanne said, “The sun has crept behind clouds. You’re quite safe now, Devlin.”
He grinned at her. “I thank you for monitoring the weather for me, Roxanne.”
Roxanne looked up, hearing a voice she recognized very well. “Oh, dear. I do believe we have added another thick blanket of unpleasantness. I should have guessed, but I didn’t.” She drew a deep breath. “My sister Leah has arrived, doubtless because Richard Langworth left London.”
“At least she will distract Richard. Onward, my girl, we have dragons to search out and slay.”
30
A party of nine sat down to dinner that evening at precisely six o’clock, the ladies resplendent in a rainbow of colors, her grace in a striking emerald green gown that quite outshone the young ladies in their pastels. The gentlemen were garbed in severe black, their linen white as the Devonshire cream Cook presented.
As on the previous evening, the baron directed the conversation, smooth as butter, Sophie thought. Perhaps it was the addition of Leah that made things easier tonight. She was certainly filled with laughter and gaiety and gossip from London.
“I believed our guests would enjoy Cook’s fine Exeter stew, Papa,” Vicky said. “Pray tell me what you think.”
The baron was staring at Leah, who looked very beautiful, indeed, her hair like spun gold in the soft candlelight. “I think that is very fine, Vicky.” He looked back toward Leah, as if unable to help himself. “My son has told me you are the loveliest of the Radcliffe sisters.”
He’d better have told his father that, Roxanne thought, a smile firmly set on her mouth.
Leah, known for her charm, something neither Roxanne nor Sophie saw much of, looked from Richard to his father. “That is kind of him. Let me say I consider Richard the finest-looking gentleman of my acquaintance. Now I see he resembles you greatly, my lord. And your house is not only impressive, it quite invites one in. Thank you for welcoming me, in spite of the surprise of it.”
The baron laughed, waved a fork that held a good bite of cheese pastry. “I’ve always believed my son has excellent taste, my dear. Welcome to Hardcross Manor. I should be delighted to show you the gardens when my son isn’t monopolizing you.”
Julian saw that Vicky had a smile fixed to her face even as she slowly chewed on a bite of roast turkey. Did she even care what was being said? Julian wondered, and saw the same question in Sophie’s eyes.
Julian said to the table at large, “I must leave you tomorrow to visit Ravenscar.”
“I shall go with you, dearest,” his mother said. “I wish to see how my vegetable garden fares.”
Julian was pleased when Roxanne, Sophie, and Devlin asked to come as well. He wanted Sophie to see his home. He also wanted her to meet his four spaniels.
Everyone was shocked silent when Vicky said suddenly, “Do you know, Julian, I haven’t been to Ravenscar since that day you buried Lily? May I come as well?”
31
Corinne waved toward the butcher’s wife as the carriage rolled through Ravenscar Village. “Isn’t this a charming town?” she asked any or all of her companions in the carriage. “Look yon at the village church. It dates back to the thirteenth century. Julian’s father always saw to it that the cemetery was well maintained, and naturally, I have continued to see to it now.” Since Lily is buried there hung in the air. Corinne continued after a moment, “He had the beautiful stained-glass windows installed toward the end of the last century. He was very proud of this village, of its people, but Ravenscar was his heart. It is a palace and a castle spun together by a drunk magician, Julian always says, but it doesn’t matter, it makes you feel safe from any invaders who might land on our shores, something that seems very doubtful now in our modern times. His grace would say ‘Ravenscar endures.’” She sighed. “Maximilian only wished he could endure right along with it. But, of course, no one can endure past his time, and his grace was blessed with a long life.”
Roxanne said, “A castle and a palace, I like that. You said the duke spent more time here than at his ancestral home—Mount Burney, near Colchester.”
Corinne said, “He did, though, to be honest, he thought of Ravenscar as his ancestral home. He told me he’d never liked Mount Burney, a drafty old place without a whit of charm. He was frankly relieved that his son Constantine loved the place. He always preferred Cornwall, the balmy south with its palm trees, and the north as well, with its savage coastline—and all of it so very close together.
“Do you know, I have never visited Mount Burney nor do I ever wish to. His grace married me here in the local church, and here is where we lived until he died. Constantine once invited me to visit, but I declined. I knew Lorelei wouldn’t be at all kind, were I to come.
“Since Ravenscar was unentailed, he was able to bequeath it to Julian.” She paused for a moment. “Do you know that hereabouts Julian is called the Prince of Ravenscar?”
“How vastly romantic that sounds,” Sophie said. “Prince! Goodness, what does that do to his opinion of himself, I wonder? How did that happen, your grace?”
“When Julian was a mere babe in arms, his father apologized to him that he couldn’t be the future Duke of Brabante. But it wouldn’t matter, he told him, because he was going to make him more important than a mere duke; he was going to make him a prince. From that day on, he would kiss Julian’s tiny hand and say grandly, ‘Never forget in the years ahead that you are the Prince of Ravenscar.’ As you can imagine, this makes Julian very uncomfortable.”
Sophie said, “I rather like it. He should, too.” And she said it over and over to herself, and smiled.
Roxanne said, “Devlin owns his own home—Holly Hill, on the outskirts of Hythe, he told me. Like Julian, he very much likes to live near the sea. He told me Holly Hill was his great-grandfather’s creation.” She turned to Sophie. “Would you like to visit Holly Hill? Devlin said he would take us out on his boat. He said it wasn’t as grand as Julian’s Désirée, but stir up a good wind and the Fifer flies.”
“Fifer,” Sophie said. “That is an odd name for a boat.”
“Devlin told me he was only five years old when his father presented the boat to him, and he didn’t know what else to call it. I believe Fife was the name of his dog at the time.” Corinne paused a moment. “Do you know, Devlin has a descendant also named Fife.”
Corinne turned to look out the carriage window. “I do wish Julian and Devlin had not chosen to ride.”
“The carriage is rather full, your grace,” Sophie said. “Besides, are you telling me you would prefer to speak to gentlemen rather than very smart witty ladies? Haven’t we entertained you sufficiently?”
“Oh, you are both very clever girls, as are you, Vicky. Now, Vicky, do you remember how you spent as much time at Ravenscar just as Julian did at Hardcross Manor?”
Vicky was gazing out the carriage window, seemingly mesmerized by the rolling hills interspersed with thick maple forests, but she was listening, Sophie knew it. Finally, Vicky nodded.
br /> That was enough for Corinne. She said, “When Vicky was very young, she was in and out like both Richard and Lily. But you stopped coming, Vicky. Why?”
“I had to stop coming, you see. There was so much for me to do at home when Lily married Julian, so how could I continue to come?” Vicky turned back to the window.
That quashed the conversation.
“Surely you came to visit your sister at Ravenscar?” Roxanne asked her.
Vicky said, “There was no need. Lily spent every day at Hardcross. Why should I come here when Lily was never here anyway?”
That quashed the conversation again.
Roxanne said, “I tried to convince Devlin to ride inside the carriage with us. I even warned him that it was such a beautiful day and the sun would surely roast his sensitive self.” She leaned toward Corinne. “I told him if I had to be closed inside a rolling box, then he should suffer and join us. He said he had no intention of being at the whim of a handful of ladies in a rolling box. He said he doubted we could control ourselves. I did not inquire exactly what he meant by that.”
Corinne laughed. “It will be a full moon tonight. I wonder if Devlin has any special plans.”
The ladies were laughing, except for Vicky, when the carriage pulled to a sharp halt, and the horses snorted and whinnied. They heard Julian shout, “Look—that is smoke!” They saw Julian jab his heels into Cannon’s sides, and his gelding leapt forward, Devlin beside him. They disappeared around a curve in the road.
John Coachman spurred the horses forward.
It was Corinne who cried out, “Oh, no. It’s the Queen Ann Dower House! Thank heavens there is no one living there.” Flames were shooting out of the windows. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind the inside would be gutted, but of course the stone exterior would remain.
A score of people splashed buckets of water on the flames, but everyone knew it was no good.
Roxanne, her head out the carriage window, felt Sophie tugging her away and obligingly made room for her.
Sophie sucked in her breath. “How did this happen?”
Corinne said from behind them, “Who would burn down the Dower House? How can it be an accident?”
“That would mean someone set it afire,” Sophie said.
The carriage stopped near the Dower House. Julian pulled Cannon close. “No one knows how the fire started. It would seem I have an enemy, though I already knew that. Mother, I will be up to the house in a little while.” He gave them a salute and motioned for John Coachman to continue. The carriage rolled up the wide tree-lined drive to Ravenscar. Corinne didn’t point out that the palm and maple and oak trees were new. She said, “I considered living there, you know, when Julian married Lily, but when Lily said she had no wish to displace me, I continued on at the big house. A good thing I did. Look, there it is.”
“It is magnificent,” Sophie said. “A palace and a castle, all mixed together. Look, Roxanne, there is enough stone to empty a quarry.”
Corinne said, “That huge central block was built back in the fourteenth century; the other wings have been added at the whim of succeeding generations. His grace said we didn’t need any more drafty corridors, any more chambers that would serve to house unwelcome guests. He elected to modernize the family wing. There are even water closets and the loveliest airy dressing rooms. The family wing is to the left of the central core. It stretches back nearly to the sea. His grace always said he liked to smell the sea when he awoke in the morning.” She paused, seeing, remembering, Roxanne and Sophie knew, then she said matter-of-factly, “He wanted to be buried here, and he was.”
There were no crenellated walls, no turrets, no moat, despite the house’s having been built during the age of continuous warfare. It was massive, stretching high to the heavens, a solid fierce warrior to vanquish any enemy who dared approach. Sophie said, “I can smell the sea. I agree with his grace, it is a splendid fragrance.”
The carriage pulled to a halt in front of the—palace, castle—Sophie shook her head. No, it was a palace, since a prince lived here.
On the steps stood an old man garbed in stark black. “That is Pouffer,” Corinne said. “He is very old, but when Julian once asked him if he wished to retire, I thought he would burst into tears. Since this is his home, both Julian and I agree he will go directly from here to heaven when his time comes. And there is Mrs. Trebah, our housekeeper, blind as a bat, has been for twenty years, but I swear to you she can smell a dust mote from ten feet. She is a dear woman. Wait until you taste Mrs. Coltrak’s black cakes.”
Pouffer, smiling widely with his six remaining teeth, welcomed the ladies. Then his composure disappeared and he began to wring his hands. “By all the sins of Satan, sin still abounds, your grace, did you see it? Our precious Dower House is no more, burned to the stones by some ruffians. Oh, my, will we be invaded by miscreants and burned in our bed? Begad and begorrah, ’tis too much to bear on a fine April day. Aye, I am feeling on the weedy side.”
“Get hold of yourself, Pouffer, we have guests.” But even as she spoke, Corinne patted the old man’s arm. “Do not worry so, Pouffer, we will be fine. You know very well the prince will keep us safe. Look, I have brought you three beautiful young ladies to amuse. Ah, Mrs. Trebah, how well you are looking. Did you hear me tell Pouffer about our three guests? Yes, they are standing very near me. Now, let us go into the house.” Corinne, her hand now transferred to Mrs. Trebah’s arm, to ensure she didn’t run into anything, led them up the dozen wide stone steps into the entrance hall.
Prince? Sophie smiled. Surely this address, used by all who lived hereabouts, must drive Julian quite mad. She liked it very much.
32
Sophie stood beside Roxanne and Vicky in the huge central entrance hall and stared upward a good sixty feet. A gleaming chandelier hung on a massive rope to within twenty feet of their heads. Everything shone and smelled of lemon wax, and, oddly, there was the scent of dog, not a wet smell but just—dog.
There were Flemish suits of armor lining one wall, a massive open fireplace that could roast an entire cow, an incredibly old beautiful Turkey carpet covering the stones. It would require a dozen men to roll it up and lift it.
Corinne walked briskly to the right. “Pouffer, may we please have some of Mrs. Coltrak’s tea and saffron cake? Come into the drawing room, girls.” She took off her lavender leather gloves as she walked into a long, narrow room, a fireplace in the middle, wide glass windows looking out onto the front courtyard.
Vicky said, “I have always believed Ravenscar to be the most beautiful house in all of England. I always wanted to live here.”
Then why did you stop coming here? Sophie wanted to ask but didn’t. Who knew what would come out of Vicky’s mouth with that question?
Corinne smiled. “My dear, there are many beautiful houses in England. Have you ever been out of Cornwall?”
“No, but I do know what is what, your grace, and my father has given me books with drawings in them. I have read many travel journals. I have visited the world.”
The ladies watched Pouffer, his shoulders back, make his stately way into the room, a huge Georgian silver tray on his arms.
“But most of all I love saffron cake,” Vicky said, sat forward on the green brocade chair, and watched Pouffer closely. The old man smiled, knowing he had an audience.
Corinne said, “I can’t smell the smoke here. Luckily, the wind is sending the smoke away in the other direction.”
“It wafts toward the village, your grace,” Pouffer said, and gave Corinne a beautiful bow, “which is a pity.”
Roxanne said, “The house was nearly gutted when we stopped, the flame was that virulent. We believe someone must have set it afire. What do you think?”
The old man didn’t immediately answer her, but she saw that his hands shook a bit as he served the cake. “Oh, dear, this is bad, so very bad. I do not know who could have done something so bad, miss, but there are so many cloven-hoofed young’uns about, it fair to c
urdles Major Dawkins’s precious Glenda’s milk.”
Roxanne said, “Cloven-hoofed, Pouffer? You mean you have Devil worshippers here? Near Ravenscar?”
The old man slowly straightened. “Her grace will tell you, miss. They light fires in the meadows and dance and cause mischief when it pleases them to do so.”
“Like what?” Sophie asked.
“Like stealing a cow’s milk,” Pouffer said, “or digging up vines and throwing them through windows. This is the first time they have destroyed something that belonged to the prince. Bad things coming, miss, bad things coming.”
“Thank you, Pouffer. You may leave, now that you have scared the liver out of our young ladies.”
Pouffer gave Corinne another magnificent bow and took himself out of the room.
“Only a fool would be frightened of the witches,” Vicky said, a slice of saffron cake in each hand. “I would join them, but I don’t know who they are. I have never even seen them. Sometimes I don’t believe they even exist, it is all a fairy tale to frighten children. Can you imagine dancing around a fire in a meadow, moonlight spilling down to glitter off your white shift? Now, the Dower House, now it will be a romantic ruin—once the smoke smell is gone.”
Witches and cloven-hoofed young’uns? How, Roxanne wondered, would they deal with a vampire in their midst? She smiled as she rose. “I believe I shall see if the gentlemen are here yet. Ma’am, I’ll bring them in for tea.” And she left the drawing room with her long-legged stride.
Sophie frowned after her. What was Roxanne up to?
They heard voices. When Julian and Devlin came into the drawing room, their clothes covered with smoke and ashes, their faces black, Corinne jumped to her feet, eyed both of them carefully, realized they were fine, and said, “Come over here, but do not sit down. You may drink your tea standing smartly by the fireplace.”