CHAPTER 49
There was a soft thud of footsteps
hurrying along the corridor. They came to a halt. A door opened and shut. Then
there was silence. Caroline knew that, beyond that door which was always locked,
led the passage to the old keep. Did the Lady Adeline walk at this witching
hour? Nick had told her not to lie awake for him. He had a great deal of
business to attend to before his departure on the morrow. He would be annoyed
if she asked foolish questions; he had assured her over and over again that
there were no ghosts at Castle Ballinmore, not even
in the keep unless she counted Lady Adeline. Still she was curious.
She opened her door softly and sped
along the corridor. The heavy door at the end was shut fast as usual. The
handle was stiff, but a turn proved that it was unlocked. She pushed it open
cautiously. The passage above the archway was draughty and rough under her bare
feet. She had to feel her way in the darkness. Slowly, inching forward, she
came to the end. A massive door let into the wall of the old tower stood firm
against her. It was securely locked. She had a fleeting impulse to knock and
demand admittance. She laid her ear against the seam and listened.
At first she heard nothing but the
moan of the wind and a scrabble of some small bird or animal; then, faintly she
distinguished a murmur of voices inside the tower. They were men’s voices she
was sure, but she could distinguish nothing of the conversation, nor could she
distinguish one from other. She must not be caught here. Shivering in her thin
nightgown, she retraced her steps.
She was safely back in the main
corridor and about to close the door behind her when a faint, far cry broke the
silence. It had a wild, tormented shrillness like the shriek of a tortured animal ..... perhaps a tortured
human being. She instantly resolved that, somehow, she would exorcise this
“ghost”. Not a word of her experience crossed her lips either that night or in
the morning. There were other things to think of. Her husband was leaving. He
held her in his arms and kissed her tenderly.
“You have nothing to fear, my lovely
Caroline,” he reassured her, “nothing in the world. I shall return soon. Think
of me, as I will of you constantly. Take great care of yourself for my sake .…. and our child's. No more mad rides on Leviathan,
remember. Keep clear of that mad old woman in the tower; she must not cast the
evil eye on my son. Keep clear of the tower itself; it is much too dangerous.”
She smiled and shed no tears. What a
brave girl she was; at least she did not feign inconsolable grief. She would
endure the test. She must. He had chosen her from among women to bear his heir
who must be without blemish and fair to look upon, unmarked by any scar. It was
only as the coach bore him away round the bend of the avenue that she fully
realised the implications of his departure. Behind her, as she watched from the
terrace, the great house sighed lonesomely. Lord Ballinmore's wraithlike face, watching from a window, was
no comfort. Involuntarily her fingers sought the golden circlet on her thigh.
It was not there. It had never been replaced, nor did she know what had become
of it. She was filled with a sense of immense desolation. Her tears began to
flow. As she turned to re-enter the house they streamed freely, damping the
bosom of her dress. Lord Ballinmore was waiting
within the great hall, a strange look, half pity, half disdain on is face.
“Ah, my dear girl,” he said, “I fear
you make a sorry wife for a hero. I had believed you of stouter metal. I think
you are going to need me after all, whatever the gallant Colonel has said.” The
words were not very comforting, but they had their effect. She dried her eyes
and looked directly at him.
“Yes,” she said, “even as you need me.
Shall I order breakfast?”
“Egad, yes. No pap neither. I have
been fed on pap till I am weak as a newborn foal. Let me have beefsteak and
beer, if such there is to be found in this house.”
Caroline pulled the bell-rope and gave
the order. The servant bustled away, pleased to see the old master so
recovered. As fast as it could be prepared, a hearty breakfast was set before
him. Caroline, who had breakfasted with Nick, now sipped a glass of mead. His
lordship fell on the savoury viands like a famished animal. Noting his
voracity, she had another thought; she pulled the bell-rope again. Her order
was firm and clear:
“Tell cook that his lordship will dine
as usual this evening. Have the table laid for two.”
“There's a pheasant …..”
“That would do splendidly; but first,
let us have a clear soup, and bring out a ripe cheese and some fruit. Cook
should know his lordship's preferences by now.”
“Bring up a bottle of the good wine .…. the claret we were keeping for a special occasion.
It has arrived.”
“You play my lady very well,
Caroline,” he said, when the servant was out of earshot. “I declare, with such
encouragement, I shall soon be my former self. There's plenty of life in the
old dog, yet. I'll show Nick Marsmain!”
“I am sure he will be pleased.”
“Pleased? He'd sooner it were the
other way: that I were weak and in my dotage. Not I, Nick, my fine colonel, not
I!”
Like a mouse out of the wainscot, the
vigilant nurse appeared in time to hear the boast. She bustled forward,
prepared to remonstrate. It was doctor’s orders that his lordship be fed on
thin soup and weak gruel, nothing else, and that he should rest till he
regained his strength.
“You do not know how ill you have
been, my lord,” she remonstrated, “strong food or too much exertion could bring
on another seizure. Then you would have to be bled again. You didn't like the
bleeding, did you, sir?”
“No!” he shouted angrily, “I did not
like bleeding. And I don't like lying a-bed. And I don't like thin gruel. Above
all, I don't like your nursing. You will not be required any more. Pack your
things, my good woman. I'll order the pony-cart.”
He was breathless and sweating, but he
would not let the harridan touch him. With a wave of his hand he dismissed her
finally. Caroline rang the bell and called for Maureen to assist her. Together
they helped Lord Ballinmore to a comfortable sofa. He
stretched out and closed his eyes. For a short while he looked like a dying
man. When he opened his eyes again, the devil was dancing in them.
“Egad, she's a pretty wench, that
Maureen!” he said, “pretty enough to make an old man young again.” It was plain
that Caroline must be vigilant. Lord Ballinmore was
quite likely to prove a handful.
“Maureen,” she said, “I feel a little
lost in this great house. It can be eerie at night. I would like you to come
and sleep in the little dressing room off mine. Would you mind?”
“No, Miss Caroline, I'd like that very
much.”
Whatever Maureen had heard or understood, she seemed genuinely relieved. Great lords were given
to sleep-walking. She would be safer with Caroline, happier to be near her.
When he heard the story, a certain young stable boy called Hughy
was manifestly relieved. From that day on the new “lady” had
a loyal and devoted servant. So long as he had his strong right arm, no
harm should come to a hair of her beautiful head. That night Caroline took her
time to climb the elegant stair. The ancestral eyes watched blankly from their
frames. She outstared them; at the last of the fixed
faces, she stuck out her tongue. She had a curious, elated feeling of
detachment from their pride of land and lineage. She had dared to disobey.
Every day Lord Ballinmore
mended. Soon he was moving about freely, grasping the reins. He went riding in
the mornings. He resumed communication with neighbours, began to concern
himself with the newly formed Yeomanry. Eventually he felt fit to organise a
shooting party. As the shooting brake disappeared down the avenue, Caroline
watched it go with a sense of achievement: that he had so far recovered under
her care and that he had, however peremptorily, given her a charge:
“See that some extra places are laid for dinner; we may have guests.”
Presently she must summon the
housekeeper; the issuing of orders confirmed status. She was mistress of the
mansion. The thought pleased her. The tribal “castle of bones” was, after all,
a meagre and vulnerable security. She reached for the bell-rope. After
instructions had been conveyed to the housekeeper, there was a long day before
her with nothing in particular to do, no elderly gentleman to weary her with
family history, exploits of war and the chase, political harangue. She would be
called upon neither to listen with patience nor to entertain with music, to
read aloud from the newspapers nor to order egg-nog
when his lordship felt in need of a pick-me-up. She rang for Maureen. The fire
had been kindled early in the great hall. Soon the two girls were seated on
stools close to its cheery glow. Caroline stared at it thoughtfully.
“I've lost my ring, Maureen,” she said
suddenly.
“Your ring? Why it is on your hand, Miss
Caroline.”
“Not that ring ….. the
one Fergal gave me. Let me explain.”
She told Maureen the whole story for
the first time of the golden band and the bond and of how the circlet had been
removed. Maureen's merry face grew grave.
“Oh Miss Caroline,” she said, “I can't
think he could do such a thing to you ..... to take
the one keepsake your own brother gave you. But sure maybe he forgot to give it
back.”
“He did not forget. I reminded him.
Why wouldn't he want me to wear it?”
“Maybe it’s jealous he was, an’ you lovin' Fergal so much. He wanted you to love him only. Men
are like that sometimes. He’ll get over it ..... when .....”
“When what, Maureen?”
“When the baby comes, Miss Caroline.”
“So you know?”
“I had a fair guess. If you don't mind
me sayin', I'd like to see you happier. Tell me, are
you really happy? Do you want to be the Lady Ballinmore?
Do you want this child?”
“Oh Maureen, I can answer none of your
questions just now. I am proud to be the lady of the mansion, but it seems I am
playing a part. I don't feel like myself as I used to be. I seem to be waiting
for something. Maybe I'll spend the rest of my life waiting
..... waiting for some man to return ..... waiting for life to begin.”
“Oh please, don't take on so. It's waitin' for the baby you are .....
an' for himself to come back. An' sure they'll both
come in their own good time. You have had a time of it with that peevish oul' man these weeks past; sure he's enough to try a saint.
You need some diversion. You have a whole day, please
God, to do what you like.”
“What do you suggest?”
“The black box.”
It had stood where a manservant had
left it in a dark corner of the hall ever since the night of arrival.
“If I was you I'd be dyin' to see what was in it. I don't know what holds you
back. Would you like me to fetch a couple of the lads? They could carry it up
to your own room. Then you could open it any time you took the notion.”
When the box was safely deposited in
her bedroom, Caroline stood staring at it with fascinated horror. On the richly
dyed carpet, among the fine furniture, the tranquil watercolours, the shells
and knick-knacks, the fine lace and delicate embroidery, it stood, lumpish,
scowling and alien.
“Maureen,” she gasped, “don't you
think it looks like a baby's coffin?”
“On no, Miss Caroline, it's by far too
big. You mustn't think such a thing. It's only a harmless, ugly oul' box.”
“I'm afraid to open it. Maybe there's
a curse on it.”
“Divil a
curse. I'll
bet there's nothin' in it but a few bits of
jewellery, or embroidery ..... somethin' your aunt set store by. Maybe it's her oul' love letters all tied up with ribbons. I'd open it an'
set my min' at rest, if I was you.”
She did not sound as confident as she
pretended. Caroline was not persuaded.
“Some other time,” she said. “Now I'd
rather do something more cheerful ..... or exciting.
Let us explore the house.”
Caroline had already seen most of what
there was to see. Though large and imposing, the house was laid out with some
of the order and economy that the later 18th century brought to a finer art.
There were little Gothic turrets that betrayed its earlier, less assured
symmetry. These features which had first loomed eerily out of the dusk at her
first coming, turned out to be unsinister. They were
not hiding places for skeletons, but proved to be either empty or used to store
surplus furniture, pictures, old guns and general bric-a-brac. The cobwebs in
the darker recesses were plain spider-work, not the dark thralls of
blood-sucking monsters. The tour of the larger apartments, mostly dust-sheeted,
was routine and chilly. They were about to return to the warmth of the fire
when Caroline recalled the old tower.
“That is the place of the secrets,
Maureen. Of that I am certain. But Nick has forbidden me to enter it. He says
it is crumbling inside and in a dangerous condition.”
“It's haunted too. But it can't be
such a bad place; the oul' woman lives in it. Did
ever you see her?”
“Once. She looks like a witch. They say she
is one. But the poor creature is deaf and dumb ..... and lonely I feel sure.”
“She has her son. He lives inside
there with her. Nobody's supposed to know, but sure everybody does. Hughy was tellin' me about him.
He's a half-wit they say ..... never
came out as long as anyone minds.”
“He must be quite old.”
“Not so oul'. Near an age with the heir that died ..... the Colonel's older
brother ..... him that his mother mourned about for
the rest of her days. You heard about him?”
“Yes, a little. He died of the fever. He was only a
boy. I wonder what he was like. Nobody knows except the housekeeper an' she's
tight-mouthed. It seems he had red hair hair an' was
always delicate. He was but a year or two older than the colonel.”
“So Ninny's son is quite young. She mustn't be as old as she seems, poor creature. She leads a very dreary life. By the
way, tell me more about Hughy.”
“He's a stable boy,” Maureen replied
with a swift blush, “he does all sorts of odd jobs as well ..... an’ runs errands ..... general
factotum an' bogtrotter to Lord Ballinmore, he is. He
knows a thing or two, mind you.”
“Especially how to win a pretty girl's
affections, I can see. He is a lucky young man. I think I know which one he is ..... a fair, good-looking lad
..... brighter than the others and very ready to help.
It was he who helped carry up that wretched box
today.”
“'Twas,
Miss. Maybe he'd get you into the tower some time, if you really wanted. He'd
take care of you. I'll ask him.”
“On no account, Maureen. He must not lose his job at Castle Ballinmore. Whatever would we do without him.
One day I shall find a way into the tower for myself. I must know its secret. I
cannot live happy in a place that keeps its secrets from me. Come, let us take
a closer look; it will serve for now.”
Well wrapped against the chill of late
October, they went out. In the fading light, the old tower stood, dark and glum
among the leafless trees. Linked with the much newer edifice by the covered
archway, it had no relevance with it in time or character but stood apart like
a disinherited chieftain. They scanned its time-scarred facades. Behind the
glazed loop-holes no sign of light or life glimmered. Caroline picked out the
window that occasionally seemed to shine.
“The glass is cleaner in that than in
the others. That must be where they live. If she can climb the stair, then I
could. But not now. It is time to prepare for the
return of the shooting party.”