Читать книгу Unlaced By The Highland Duke - Lara Temple, Lara Temple - Страница 18

First impressions were often deceptive, Jo thought as she paused halfway along the beach and glanced back at the castle. Yesterday they arrived in near darkness, though it was only late afternoon, with clouds hanging low and submerging everything in sheets of unrelenting rain. Faraway lightning had sketched out the contours of the castle, marking towers and the remnants of walls. Through the watery grey the castle had appeared a gloomy monstrosity clawing at the sky.

In sunlight the castle was another beast entirely. It sat atop a promontory whose cliffs fell into the water like an anthracite skirt. It was still imposing and not terribly inviting, but as the sun gleamed off the deep grey stone of the castle and the remains of the walls around it, at least it no longer looked like the lair of an ogre.

From the south she could not see the tower where the Duke said his aunt lived. She wondered if the woman was truly as unpleasant as he warned. She tried to remember what Bella had said about her, but the previous Duke had still been alive then and most of Bella’s commentary had been a barrage of complaints about her living conditions, her renovation of the castle, her plans to ensure they spent more time in London and her thinly veiled jealousy about how much time Benneit spent with the baby rather than her.

If Jo was doubtful about the castle, she had no qualms about the beach—it was beautiful. With the skies scrubbed clean of clouds and the scent of the sea and the soft sand beneath her boots, the world was a marvellous place. The bay was sheltered by a finger of the cliffs that extended into the water and further to the south by a tumble of rocks with a large boulder atop it that looked like a pillow just waiting for a large cat to curl on and lap up the sun’s warmth. Beyond the finger of rocks, the waves were lashing at the cliffs, heavy with foam, but inside the bay they merely surged and hissed in retreat, more teasing than threatening.

Jamie soon abandoned his shoes on a rock and began inculcating Jo into the secret of finding treasures as he rooted about a clump of slimy brownish growth. The best finds, he informed her, were often tangled in gatherings of kelp the sea tossed up, especially after a storm. They found a lovely shell with a pearly inside, and a curved stick that looked like a pig’s tail and which Jamie decided once belonged to a druid.

When Jamie grew hungry they gathered his treasures and turned towards the castle, Jamie running ahead in his stockings while Angus picked up his shoes and addressed Jo with a sigh and a smile.

‘You needn’t hurry after him, Mrs Langdale. He’ll be gone in a cloud of dust before you reach the steps. I’ll see Nurse Moody takes him in hand before nuncheon. Take your time and when you’re ready to come in, take the stairs at the end of the corridor and you will find yourself by the great staircase and from there up two flights to the nursery. You’ll be all right, lass?’

Jo nodded and smiled, happy to have a few moments to herself. She contemplated the tumble of rocks. Perhaps one day she would take a book up there. After all, she had a month. And then...

There was no point in thinking of that now.

She followed the edge of the sea where the waves licked the sand into firmness, stopping to pick up a shell sure to appeal to Jamie. Outside it was gnarled and a rather dull dun colour scored with what looked like the passage of worms in the sand, but inside it was perfection—a creamy pink sheen that would defy the finest artist. She brushed her finger along the sweep of its curve—as soft as silk, it almost felt alive. If she were a princess from one of the exotic dream lands Jamie was convinced these treasures arrived from she would have a dress of just this colour.

And she would be beautiful and wealthy and would depend upon no one but herself.

Strangely, her usual daydream felt rather grey and she trudged up the stone steps and through the Sea Gate and into the tunnel leading to the great stairs. It took her a while to realise she was lost. She finally stopped walking and raised her eyes from the flagstones. There was just enough light coming in from the narrow open slits on either end of the corridor, and she could hear the surf outside, so she did not feel particularly alarmed, just hungry and weary. Had she turned left or right at the Sea Gate? She retraced her steps, but the silence only deepened and so did the gloom.

She could not have come this way because at the end of the ill-lit tunnel with its vaulted ceiling there was nothing but a spiralling staircase heading downwards, which made little sense to her unless she had reached an entrance to the cellars? The Duke’s words came back to her—the cellars were closed off so surely there was no point in going down. Unless by coming in from the side door on the cliff side they had entered higher than the main entrance and by going down she would find herself some place familiar?