Page 20 of Lyon on the Loose

“In the old coach house, I imagine, where poor old Dashwood was. Don’t worry! The place has been modernized and is very comfortable. If you’re not in a hurry, I could give you a tour. This place is a bit of a rabbit warren. The Elizabethan living accommodation butts up against the medieval remains of the castle. Modern adaptations have been added at various times, like the orangery and the laundry.”

Roland pressed his lips together. This was exactly what he needed—ascertaining the layout of the buildings might help him work out any chinks in the fortifications through which villains like Sutton and Treadwell could slink unnoticed.

He almost laughed. Here he was, with the castle already exercising its influence on him, making him ponder the value of its defenses. He felt a moment’s sympathy for Lady Beatrice—it was quite a place to manage, even with servants. Brampton Hall, built all in one go at the end of the previous century, was well lit, refined, and extremely well organized. Mundlingham Castle had been tweaked, adjusted, undermined, and rebuilt, according to the whim of its owners and the fashions of the times. Character, it had in abundance. Convenience, it did not.

“I should love to have a look about the place, Mr. Ashby. Do you mind if I take notes?”

He fished a small notebook out of his pocket and a stub of pencil. Along with the pebble-lensed glasses, which he was wearing again, he considered these stationery items an essential part of his role as secretary.

“Not at all. You might even want to draw a map. If I take you down into the medieval dungeons, you could get lost. There’s a hidden postern as well, and tunnels.”

“You make this place sound like a feature in a Gothic novel, Mr. Ashby.”

“Probably what inspired me to take up dowsing. I’ve found two separate wells within the castle precincts, you know, neither of which was visible.”

Roland was eager to see the different points of entry into the castle, but such pointed interest might arouse suspicion.

“Your dowsing sounds interesting.”

“It was at first, but it’s now just a job. However, I can claim to be the only person who knows exactly where all the galleries, shafts, and adits at the Midnorton mine are located. I was invaluable when we had a cave in—I got them all out with barely a scratch. Divining’s a skill anyone can learn.”

The young man gave Roland a hopeful look, like a dog expecting a bone. A fascinating family, the Ashbys! Thus far, those he had met were out of the ordinary. But then, being brought up in an environment like this, surrounded by the resonance of one’s medieval ancestors, it would be very hard not to be an exceptional kind of person.

“I have no objection to learning when I have the time. Meanwhile, I’d be most grateful for a tour of the tunnels and that postern gate you mentioned.”

“I’ll be here for a couple of weeks—Mama has decided, quite out of the blue, that she wants to throw a costume ball, and I am required to help. You’ll be entangled in the preparations, too—nobody escapes when Mama has a project in mind. I imagine it’s to cheer up Lissy, who’s been melancholy for months. I don’t know why.”

Hugo paused and glanced toward the hallway. Expecting to see Lissy standing there, Roland’s heart launched into an uncomfortably rapid beat. There was no one there.

“It may be that she’s gone broody on hearing Fenny’s news. Oh, but that’s indelicate of me, isn’t it? Forget I said anything. You’ll get to meet Latymer, and my sister Fenella, too, if she’s feeling up to it. Lissy will get dragged into the arrangements as well, running errands at Mama’s command until she’s too exhausted to enjoy herself. Poor girl.”

A masked ball? Roland adored masked balls, except for the ones where duke’s daughters were dressed too convincingly like servants. However, as an employed member of the household, he could hardly expect an invitation. He might have to man the portcullis, however, to keep out undesirables . . .

Hugo had, by this time, escorted him downstairs, and now paused outside a door. “That’s the estate office, where you’ll be most of the time. You can explore that at your leisure, I’m sure. I’ll show you the coach house directly—you’re far too superior to be put in the attics. Not that they get used for much more than storage—we’re so close to the town that most of the servants live out.”

Mr. Hugo Ashby was proving to be a valuable source of information. Roland must make sure to spend as much time with him as possible before he returned to his mine in Somerset.

“Do they keep late hours in this house?” It would be useful to know when he could sleuth without being observed.

“Surprisingly not. We tend to keep country hours. Up with the lark and down with the blackbird. Very unfashionable, I know.”

“Do you have a housekeeper, or a steward?”

“Yes, we have both. There’s not that much land left to need stewarding, mind—it’s been sold so the town can expand. Lissy acts as Mama’s lady’s companion when she can’t escape, and the housekeeper does as you would expect. You can take your meals with her if you want or have them on your own in the coach house. Dashwood usually ate with her—I think perhaps they took a fancy to one another.”

So, Roland could not expect to make an ally or a friend of the housekeeper, since he had replaced her precious Mr. Dashwood. Useful to know!

Hugo flung open a neighboring door, and for a moment, Roland was blinded by the amount of golden autumn sunshine that flooded the room. He blinked, and as his eyes adjusted to the glare, he realized he was standing in a room constructed of glass and white-painted wrought iron. The place was festooned with foliage. Numerous pots with outlandish plants stood about the room, and the fronds of a small palm tree reached almost to the ceiling.

“Our famous orangery,” remarked Hugo.

There was a movement in response to his voice, and Roland saw that there was someone else in the room. He felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach.

Lissy!

He wasn’t prepared for the surge of feeling that hit him at the sight of her, stealing his breath. They’d only been apart for a few hours, and already, she had this effect on him? Madness!

She glanced up from her artwork with polite enquiry, saw him, snapped her drawing book shut, and leaped to her feet.