A Castle of Dreams (8 page)

The Duke chuckled.

“Dear Lord, yes.  Here in Scotland the people have a different approach to titles, Viola.  I may be the Duke of Glentorran but as far as Fergus is concerned, I am still Rob, the boy who cannot swim as far and as fast as he can.

“I am also Godfather to his own lad, Ian.  We had hoped our boys would grow up together, too, but – ”

He stopped, his face darkening.

“Well, never mind all of that.  Come and meet him and his wife, Heather.  I am certain they will be delighted to see you.”

The two riders trotted through the village and Viola noticed that the men and women acknowledged the Duke, but there was no servility in their bearing.

She was very impressed – she had visited too many estates where the staff and tenants seemed almost in fear of their Master and landlord.

The end of a long line of terraced cottages was the Duke's destination.

As they reined to a halt outside, Viola was full of admiration for the glowing window boxes full of flowers.

“Fergus!  Heather!  Ahoy inside.”

The dark blue door opened and the redheaded man strode out, who she had last seen rowing her and David to safety through the storm.

A wide smile creased his tanned face.

The Duke dismounted, tossed the reins over a post and then helped Viola down.

“Fergus, let me introduce Lady Viola Northcombe.  Viola, this is Fergus Lyall.”

“Thank you so much for rescuing us!” cried Viola, shaking the hard hand held out to her.  “You were
so
brave, Fergus, to tackle that raging sea.”

“Och, think nothing of it, my Lady.  I was only too happy to help out.  Heather!  Come quickly, lass, the Duke and a guest are here.  Do forgive my wife, my Lady.  She is just putting our wee boy down to sleep.”

The door of the cottage opened again and a fresh complexioned, pretty young woman with bright brown hair came out, a shawl pinned closely round her shoulders.

Viola held out her hand and then was hardly aware of the introductions being made.

She could not take her eyes away from the brooch that was pinning the Scottish girl's shawl.

Large and ornate, it glittered in the spring sunshine.  To some it would have appeared to be just a piece of paste of no great value.

But Viola knew better.

The very last time she had seen this huge cluster of diamonds, it had been pinned prominently on the front of Mrs. Van Ashton's evening gown!

Lady Margaret ran up the circular stone stairway leading from the Great Hall of the Castle, hurried along the corridor and knocked on David's door.

“Come in, Meg!”

She entered the room and smiled in surprise at the sight of David sitting in a large chair by the open window.

He was still looking somewhat thin and pale, but his eyes were bright and he was smiling cheerfully.

“How did you know it was me, David?”

His smile deepened.

“Everyone taps on the door in a different way.  My sister raps on it with two sharp knocks, Mrs. Livesey and the maids are very tentative.  Your brother gives three equal taps and yours, Meg – ”

“Yes?”

“Yours are a series of little noises.  As if a small bird was asking to be let in!”

Meg chuckled.

“What utter nonsense you talk!  Obviously, David, you are feeling much better?”

David patted the wide casement seat opposite him and Meg sat down, smoothing the creases from her green skirt and wishing that it did no look quite so shabby in the bright sunlight that flooded into the room.

“Yes, indeed.  Thanks to you and all the wonderful care your staff have given me, I hope to venture downstairs tomorrow.  I would have liked to have joined you for dinner tonight, but Mrs. Livesey just turned several shades of puce when I mentioned it!”

“Dear Dorcas Livesey.  I have known her all my life.  I admit I used to be scared of her when I was small, but I know better now.  She seems such a dragon, but under that stern exterior beats a very soft heart.”

David nodded.

“She has been kindness itself to me and I think my recovery would have been very slow without her nursing skills.  Although I seem to have eaten more porridge in the last couple of days than ever before in my whole life!”

Lady Margaret gazed through the open window.

The room looked out towards the distant mountains, majestic and covered with heather and, unconsciously, she sighed at the sight of them.

David frowned.

“You don't seem your usual cheerful self, Meg.  Is there a problem?  Is it causing difficulties, my sister and I being here in the Castle?”

She turned to him, her great dark eyes anxious.

“No, no!  Please, never think that!  I am delighted you are both here.  You have no idea how wonderful it is, David, to talk to someone of my own age who has visited foreign countries, travelled across the sea and seen things I will never see.”

“I have only travelled to America and once there I stayed in New York.  I never got to see Niagara Falls or the Grand Canyon or any of the other wonderful sights.  And all I saw of the voyage home was the inside of my cabin!  Admittedly, I long to journey around the world, but – ”

“Like me, you don't have enough money for such a trip!” Lady Margaret interrupted.  “Oh, I know exactly how you feel.  Sometimes when I look out at the mountains and instead of seeing their beauty, I see them all as a line of gaolers, keeping me here in this Castle prison!”

David scowled to himself.

How easy it would be to say that he had plenty of money now. That he could afford to go round the world twice and not notice the difference to his bank balance.

But he made a promise to Viola that he would keep quiet about the fortune they had inherited from their father.

Now he was wishing with all his heart that he had not made such a commitment to his sister.

“Do you feel so very isolated here in Glentorran?” he asked quietly.

She played with a piece of thread that was hanging from the worn edge of her sleeve.

“Oh, please don't get the wrong impression, David!  I love my brother and Glentorran.  But – I
long
to travel!

“I have been to Glasgow, Edinburgh and London.  Three big cities.  But I don't like busy places.  I want to see deserts and oceans and the vast open plains of Africa!  And I know that I never will.

“There is a whole exciting and different world out there and I am passionate to experience it all.”

David reached over and caught her hands in his.

He snapped off the loose thread and twined it round his finger.

“I sympathise, Meg.  I really do.  Viola has always wanted to live in England, to have a house in the country and create a wonderful garden.  She loves dogs and horses and all sorts of country pursuits.

“But, although we are twins, I am not that keen on the energetic outdoor life she likes so much.  Just give me a sketchbook, a small box of watercolours and a marvellous view and I will be a happy man.

“But most of all, I, too, would like to travel.  I think I am very like my father in that desire.  He could never stay in one place for long.

“I, just like you, ache to see the Arabian deserts, the Sahara, the jungles of Borneo and the unusual animals and beautiful flowers of the South Sea Islands.”

“Robert told me a little about your family history,” sighed Lady Margaret.  “All four of us are victims of our fathers' careless behaviour, so it seems.”

David did not reply.

He twined the thread even tighter, hardly noticing the pain as it viciously cut into his skin.

How could he agree with this wonderful girl?

What she had said would have been true a year ago when they first met at Charlotte Brent's birthday ball in London.

Then he had just been David, the Viscount Powell, without a care in the world or a penny to his name.

But now he was the Earl of Northcombe, the
very rich
Earl of Northcombe!

He now owned oil fields and all sorts of companies in the United States.  He had to instruct his partner, Lewis Wilder, and discharge his many responsibilities.

Once he was fully recovered and they were back in London, he knew he would have to plunge into a world of finance that he knew nothing about and cared nothing for.

“Perhaps things will change one day?” he ventured, but she just laughed.

“Aye, perhaps we will all come into a fortune!  An old gypsy woman came into the Castle last Christmas and told me I would marry a very rich man.  I asked her where he was, but all she would say was that he lived across the water!  But, as far as I know, there are no such candidates living in the Hebrides seeking my hand in marriage!”

David chuckled.

“And what did she tell your brother?”

Lady Margaret's laugh rang out again.

“Och, Robert was most put out.  She told him he would have his heart broken by a man from over the seas!  As Robert said, he wouldn't mind if it was a woman who broke his heart, but he could not see himself getting that upset by anything a man told him!”

David decided to change the subject.

“Tell me, Meg.  I noticed that Viola was strangely quiet this morning when she came to visit me.  It was most unlike her.

“I asked her if she had enjoyed her ride with your brother yesterday and she assured me that she indeed had.  Did you notice anything untoward regarding her behaviour at dinner last night?”

Meg looked concerned.

“Now you mention it, your sister did indeed seem a little quiet.  Almost as if she had something on her mind that was worrying her.

“Robert was called out during the meal – a problem somewhere on the estate needed his immediate attention.  Viola refused coffee and retired early.  Perhaps it is just a reaction to the last few hectic days.  After all, David, you were both shipwrecked only the other day!”

The young Earl laughed and agreed with her, but he could not get his twin's serious face out of his mind.

They had always been very close and he knew that something had upset his sister and wondered if she would tell him about it.

In the meantime he could only hope that it would not cause any problems during the remainder of their stay here at Glentorran Castle.

*

Viola had breakfasted in her room and once she had finished, she pulled on the warm tweed jacket that Meg had provided for her, paid a brief visit to David to check on his progress and then hurried outside into the rambling Castle grounds.

There had been no sign of the Duke or his sister at breakfast, but a maid she met as she crossed the Great Hall informed her that the Duke had been away from home by six o'clock that morning.

It was a fine warm day and the air tasted like wine.  A light breeze was blowing in from the sea and little clouds scudded overhead.

Viola had hardly slept all night.

She had tossed and turned restlessly, seeing in front of her eyes the diamond brooch pinned to Heather Lyall's shawl – the brooch that had belonged to Mrs. Van Ashton who had worn it so often on their trip across the Atlantic.

‘There is no way that piece of jewellery could have survived the shipwreck,' Viola murmured to herself as she wandered through the overgrown shrubberies.

‘Even if Mrs. Van Ashton had been wearing it – and I am certain she was not – then it would have sunk to the floor of the ocean if it fell from her bodice.

‘One of the fishermen must have taken it from the wreck.  But why would they give it to Fergus?  Is he their chief?  And if that is so, was he behind the ship's tragic end?  Is Captain Howard right?  Were wreckers the cause of the yacht smashing into the rocks?'

She then caught her hand on a bunch of nettles and grunted.

Apparently dangers were lurking even in this quiet deserted garden!

‘But Fergus is the Duke's special boyhood friend!  So how could I possibly accuse him of such treachery?' her thoughts rambled on miserably.

She was just beginning to realise that her feelings for the Duke were growing day by day.

Although she could see no future for them because of the horrid way fate had turned her from a poor girl into a very rich one, she knew that hurting him was something she could never do.

And she recognised by the light-hearted way he had spoken to Fergus and Heather Lyall and by the way he had asked after their little boy, his Godson, that these fisherfolk meant a great deal to him.

She could sense that the Duke would only ever give his trust sparingly.

He had given it to the Lyalls.

How could she be the one to spoil all that for him?

Still deep in thought, she turned a corner and then stopped and gasped.

In front of her was a flight of stone steps, leading down into a square walled rose garden.

Everywhere she looked roses grew in wild abandon with great swathes of pink, yellow and red cascading over the old bricks.

Tall standard varieties studded with crimson, white and apricot flowers, bushes of old roses covered in smaller bunches of white tinged with pink and yellow blushing into pink and a red so dark it was almost black.

And on the air floated the most incredible perfume.

Viola could hardly believe her senses.

She ran down the rough stone steps and cupped the nearest rose to inhale the wonderful smell.

“You like yon flower, then, lassie?”

Viola spun round.

A very elderly man was standing watching her.  He was wearing old corduroy breeches and heavy boots.  His hair was sparse and white and he leant on a gnarled stick.

“These roses have the most amazing scent!  I have never seen such a wonderful rose garden.  I thought you would have difficulty in growing such fine specimens this far North.”

“Angus will tell you he can grow roses anywhere!”

 Viola turned round, startled.

The Duke was standing on the stone steps, gazing down at her, his dark hair tousled by the summer breeze.