“I understand you also have a large dungeon,” Tess prodded for Fanny’s sake when Mrs. Hiddleston ran out of praise for the living quarters. “We would like to inspect it, if you would be so kind.”
The housekeeper first looked surprised, then made a face. “Well, to be truthful, it is more a monstrous wine cellar, my lady. But of course Hiddleston will gladly show it to you, although you may be offended by so much accumulated dirt. We do not go down there much, except on rare occasions. Are you
certain
you wish to see it?”
“Quite certain. Miss Irwin is a novelist,” Tess explained, “and so has a particular interest in such things as dungeons. She also has an avid interest in ghosts. Is it true that Falwell is haunted? We would enjoy hearing anything you can tell us.”
Both upper servants frowned, before the housekeeper smiled weakly. “Aye, we have a ghost that is said to be the duke who built the towers during the renovations. By all accounts, his grace came to an untimely end when he fell from the west tower, although some say he was
pushed.
”
“So the Falwell ghost may be the spirit of the current duke’s murdered ancestor?” Fanny interjected.
Mrs. Hiddleston looked to her husband, who had not been given much chance to get in a word edgewise, and then fell oddly silent.
“We have heard some disturbing noises,” Hiddleston answered for her, “since the beginning of summer, but it is only now and then.”
“What sort of noises?” Tess asked.
“Oh, a few bumps and bangs and whatnot—something like the rattle and clank of chains. But it is
likely the wind. And in any event, the castle has been silent for the past fortnight at least.”
His wife clearly looked uncomfortable, perhaps even afraid, but she held her tongue.
Deciding not to push, Tess said they would save a tour of the dungeon for the morrow. For now, she thought she should comply with Rotham’s demand that she let him know they had arrived safely.
Thus, she penned a letter to his town house in London and had Hiddleston post her missive in the village of Fowey.
That evening, she and Fanny dined in a cozy parlor rather than the enormous dining room. And when they retired for bed, Tess chose a bedchamber just down the corridor from her friend, saying she wanted to be close to her guest as an excuse to avoid sleeping in the lord’s chambers.
The first two nights, there was no sign or sound of any ghost. During the days Tess and Fanny settled in the library, which had an inspiring view of the sea cove below the castle. While Fanny wrote on her manuscript, Tess saw to her extensive correspondence; she had brought her large case of files pertaining to her charities. Although she had no official role in any of the organizations except that of chief advocate, she wouldn’t shirk her responsibilities simply because she was two hundred miles away.
Nor would she abandon her work merely because she had married into the aristocracy. She’d seen too much poverty and hopelessness to turn a blind eye now. There were still countless families in need, many to the point of desperation. Women and children and
elderly parents especially, who were barely surviving after their men were killed or maimed in nearly two decades of war.
Tess also made an effort to learn about her nearest neighbors, particularly those who would expect a formal call from the new duchess. There were several nobles in the district, plus a dozen families who could be considered gentry, but since she was of higher rank now, she would have to initiate any visits.
Her first meeting would be with the local vicar, Tess decided. And she would have Alice accompany her instead of Fanny. For years Tess had futilely battled society’s strictures regarding ladylike conduct, but she had to agree with Fanny’s assessment—that flaunting their friendship could be detrimental to the very causes she was urgently trying to promote. Her neighbors, including perhaps even a man of the church, would likely be appalled to know she was associating with a lightskirt, even a reformed one.
Tess hoped her friend’s prospects for acceptance would improve shortly. If Fanny could marry Basil, she would automatically gain a measure of respectability. Marriage covered up a multitude of sins with the ton, and associating with the Duchess of Rotham would increase her gentility even more.
Beyond wanting to help Fanny, Tess welcomed the challenge of matchmaking for personal reasons. From long experience, she knew that keeping busy was the most effective way to avoid dwelling on her troubles. Unfortunately, her strategy of occupying every waking moment did not seem to work very well with the problem of her marriage. To Tess’s frustration, shutting
out her memories of Rotham proved impossible, particularly at night when she lay alone in her bed.
By day, however, her efforts at distraction were more successful. She took long walks with Fanny, strolling along the bluffs and breathing in the marvelous sea air or exploring the surrounding woods that were only now showing significant signs of autumn. They had yet to attempt the steep footpath that led down to the village, but on their other sojourns from the castle, Tess’s footmen always accompanied them while keeping a respectful distance behind.
Tess was also glad to serve as literary advisor to her friend. She had read Fanny’s first manuscript and offered her thoughts then, and was now reading completed pages of the current novel. Usually they spent the afternoons discussing plots and protagonists while taking tea.
The courtesan hoped to become as popular and prolific as Mrs. Ann Radcliffe, Frances Burney, or Regina Maria Roche, who were great favorites with patrons of booksellers and circulating libraries.
“I don’t aspire to be a star in the literary firmament,” Fanny contended, “but only to make a comfortable living.”
Her publisher was the Minerva Press, a printing establishment that had successfully capitalized on the lucrative market for Gothic romances. “Horrid” novels, as they were frequently termed, often featured wicked villains and hapless young damsels chasing each other about gloomy mansions or drafty castles.
Fanny insisted on holding her characters to a certain standard, however. “It is all well and good to have lovelorn, romantic innocents for my heroines,”
she explained, “but I won’t have them swooning at the slightest provocation. They must possess a modicum of wit—at least enough to be instrumental in their own salvation.”
It was a common fallacy that romance novelists could scribble cheap Gothics in their spare time, but having watched Fanny’s labors, Tess knew the process was much more difficult than she’d imagined. Besides, this was only Fanny’s second attempt at fiction, so it was not unreasonable that the manuscript was progressing in fits and starts.
The principal reason, however, was that Fanny had her own distractions to deal with. On the second afternoon at Falwell Castle, she admitted that she had grown too nervous to write much or well. “I cannot stop thinking about what I shall do if Basil comes,” Fanny confided.
“
When
Basil comes, you mean,” Tess said in a bracing tone. “I have faith that Rotham will get his way and send Basil here to us.”
“But what do I do once he is here? How should I behave? I don’t want to be too forward with him for fear of reminding him of my wicked past.”
Tess smiled teasingly in an effort to reassure her friend. “You conquered the entire London demimonde, Fanny. Surely you can charm one single, eager gentleman. I’ll wager that by this time next week, you will have Basil eating out of your hand. You may very well even be betrothed by then—and you will be, if I have anything to say to the matter.”
Fanny’s expression turned hopeful. “Do you truly think so, Tess?”
“Yes, indeed. You may have more experience in
carnal matters than I do, but I know more about matrimony. I have had two proposals of marriage, remember?” Catching herself, Tess gave a soft laugh and wrinkled her nose. “Although the second offer was entirely unwanted … and I suppose I cannot call Rotham’s arrogant declaration that I would have to wed him a true
proposal
. Nevertheless, you need to quit fretting, dearest Fanny. Your romance with Basil will work out, I am certain of it.”
Fanny seemed grateful for the encouragement, but still she worried her lower lip. “I do not have your confidence, Tess. I am afraid even to kiss Basil, and I don’t dare try to make love to him. What if he doesn’t like it?”
Tess laughed outright at that absurdity. “There is absolutely no possibility of Basil not enjoying your lovemaking. Your problems with him are monetary, not amorous.”
“I suppose so,” the courtesan agreed. “But I mean to let him take the lead in our relationship so that I don’t frighten him off. And my conduct must be believable. My acting like a virgin will make him feel more manly, no doubt, but my innocence has to seem real, don’t you think?”
“I think you are worrying for no reason. Wait until Basil arrives and then see how things stand between you.”
It was amazing to see Fanny so uncertain of herself. She had sold her sexual favors for outrageous sums and reigned over the demimonde for years. Then again, she had never before been vulnerable to love, as she was now with Basil, Tess conceded.
For Fanny’s sake as well as her own, therefore, Tess
was almost glad to have her first experience with the castle ghost that very night. Waking suddenly in the dark, she recognized the eerie disturbance that had put the servants so on edge.
Her heart pounding, Tess quickly lit a candle. The clanking noises did indeed resemble rattling chains and sounded as if they were coming through the walls, or perhaps from the chimney. It was warm enough that she hadn’t needed a fire, and the contrasting quiet of her bedchamber only seemed to amplify the metallic racket.
Summoning her courage, Tess climbed out of bed and checked every nook and cranny of her room but found nothing unusual to explain the cause. When the mysterious noises stopped abruptly, she threw on her dressing gown and hurried down the corridor to Fanny’s room.
Fanny was sitting up in bed, apparently having been startled awake also.
The rattling did not resume, however. And after a time they discussed the phenomenon to help calm their shaken nerves.
“There must be a rational explanation,” Tess ventured to say, to which Fanny agreed.
“Yes. Perhaps it was just the wind.”
“Perhaps. There probably is no point in searching the castle tonight in the dark. We will have to wait until daylight to investigate.”
Fanny nodded, but stopped Tess from leaving. “Will you stay with me here, Tess? I would rather not be alone until we know what we are dealing with.”
Tess was of a similar mind, so rather than return to her room, she claimed the other side of Fanny’s bed.
When no more commotion threatened their peace, they eventually managed to fall asleep and didn’t wake again till dawn.
After breakfast the next morning, they searched the entire castle from top to bottom looking for clues, but could find no hint of what had caused the unsettling disturbance. Both of Tess’s sturdy footmen accompanied them, particularly when they searched the “dungeon,” but all they gained for their troubles were dirty gowns.
The housekeeper apologized profusely for the condition of the cellars, perhaps fearing for her job, but Tess reassured her.
“Please don’t worry, Mrs. Hiddleston. As you said, no one uses the cellars anymore. As for exploring the depths of the castle, we think of it as research for Miss Irwin’s novel. I doubt there are real ghostly spirits lurking down there or anywhere else.”
In the light of day, Tess found it easier to dismiss the absurd possibility of Rotham’s murdered ancestor haunting his palatial home. Yet to her consternation, an hour later she had a new concern to occupy her: A brief message came from Rotham, saying that he had succeeded in hiring Basil Eddowes and that they would arrive sometime the following afternoon. Thus, instead of worrying about confronting a ghost, Tess had to worry about facing her new husband.
She told herself that the restless flutter in her stomach had nothing whatsoever to do with eagerness or anticipation of seeing him again. Of course she was delighted for Fanny, but she’d hoped to avoid Rotham for a good while longer.
It was unfortunate, Tess thought wryly, that she
couldn’t simply refuse him entry so she wouldn’t have to deal with him. Yet she couldn’t exactly kick him out of his own castle. And if she tried, she could only imagine the grief Rotham would give her.
Fanny was even more unnerved by the realization that her moment of truth was at hand. For the remainder of the day and all the next morning, the two of them tried with only mild success to calm each other’s agitation.
Long before the expected hour, they gave up working in the library and settled in the drawing room to read. Despite their effort to appear composed, however, when the gentlemen finally did arrive around two o’clock, Fanny only had eyes for Basil, and Tess could not look away from Rotham.
It was deplorable how all her senses came alive the moment he strode into the room. His gaze was fixed on her in return, she saw. He was studying her closely, perhaps wondering what sort of reception she meant to give him … perhaps also remembering their one passionate night together, just as she was.
Tess felt the impact as Rotham’s gray eyes raked slowly down her figure. She had deliberately chosen lighter colors and fabrics to wear for her visit to Cornwall, and he seemed to approve of her gown of blue sprigged muslin—not that she cared what he thought of her, Tess reminded herself.
Yet her body was instantly, profoundly aware when Rotham stepped closer. And when he took her hand to press a light kiss to her fingers, she shivered at even that slight touch.
With effort, Tess withdrew her hand from his grasp and shifted her attention from Rotham to her friends,
who were staring at each other as if they had been parted for a decade rather than merely a few days.
Tall, lean, and lanky, Basil was blond, brown-eyed, and wore spectacles that gave him a scholarly appearance, which provided a striking contrast to Fanny’s lush, raven-haired beauty. Tess knew theirs was a clear case of opposites attracting; Fanny, the gay, vivacious, pleasure-seeker, and Basil, the earnest, bookish law clerk. His studious air was fortunately relieved by his sharp dry wit, though. And reportedly he’d been fun-loving in his youth, acting as Lily Loring’s childhood compatriot in her sporting endeavors and rebellious escapades.