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Her defiant expression crumpled into one of horror. ‘But that’s monstrous! No one would ever employ me if they knew. You wouldn’t be so cruel!’
‘Didn’t you pay any attention to all that gossip? If you had, then you’d know very well that I would.’ He smiled mirthlessly. ‘Welcome to Amberton Castle, Miss Harper. I hope that you have a good night.’
Chapter Three
‘Miss Harper?’
Violet frowned in her sleep. The voice in her dream seemed to be coming from a distance, but she had no idea what it was doing there. It was a woman’s voice, though she didn’t recognise it, repeating her name over and over, though that made no sense either. In her dream, she was out alone on the moors, desperately trying to find shelter as towers of snow piled up higher and deeper around her, imprisoning her behind their thick, white, impenetrable walls. She was lost and afraid, without any hope of rescue...
‘Miss Harper?’
A hand touched her shoulder this time and she jolted awake with a start.
‘Where am I?’ She looked around, but whoever had woken her was holding their candle directly in front of her face and all she could see was a bright orange glow.
‘Amberton Castle.’ It was the voice from her dream, though it sounded distinctly less than welcoming. ‘I’m Mrs Gargrave, the housekeeper.’
‘Oh...yes, of course. I remember.’
She sat up, squinting into the candlelight. Had she really fallen asleep? After pacing the room for what seemed like an eternity, she’d eventually curled up beneath a dustsheet on one of the old armchairs, though she hadn’t expected to sleep. Between the encroaching cold and the fading light, she hadn’t thought it possible to sleep in such an eerie-looking icebox of a room, but clearly she had. After all the anticipation and tension of the past few days, she must have been more tired than she’d realised. Judging by the darkness, not to mention the ache in her neck, she must have been there for a few hours, too.
‘We spoke in the hall earlier, I think? You said you’d arranged luncheon.’
‘I had.’ There was an indignant-sounding sniff. ‘Cook prepared a special meal to celebrate your marriage. Against master’s orders, I might add, but we wanted to welcome you properly. It’s all ruined now, though.’
‘Oh.’ She wasn’t sure what to say. It wasn’t as if she’d intended to get herself locked in a tower. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...’
‘In any case, your room’s almost ready.’
‘My room?’ She scrambled quickly to her feet, dimly making out the features of a gaunt-looking woman in late middle age. ‘I thought Captain Amberton said this was my room.’
‘He’s had a change of heart.’
Heart? Somehow she doubted that. He’d have to grow a heart before he could change it and it was hard to imagine the brute who’d locked her up having any kind of conscience. Still, whatever the reason for her release, she wasn’t going to dispute it.
‘I’m relieved to hear that. I was afraid I was going to be trapped here all night.’
‘It’s a disgrace!’ The housekeeper gave another loud sniff. ‘There was a time when this house was renowned for its hospitality. When his mother was alive things were done properly, but it’s been nothing but decline ever since. I don’t know why I stay sometimes...’
‘But I’m sure my new room will be very comfortable.’ Violet gestured towards the door encouragingly. Mrs Gargrave seemed to be warming to her subject and if she was going to listen, then she preferred to do it some place warmer. ‘Shall we?’
‘Aye. Very well.’ The housekeeper looked disappointed to be interrupted mid-flow. ‘This way.’
Violet followed her gratefully out of the tower, relieved to find herself back in the wood-panelled corridor. It seemed to stretch the full length of the house, with at least ten doors on one side and a long banister and yet more stairs on the other. Mrs Gargrave led her towards them and then up to another landing, almost identical to the one below.
‘I see they didn’t exaggerate, then.’ The housekeeper threw a quick glance over her shoulder as they approached one of the doors.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘About your height. You’re even smaller than they said.’
Violet faltered mid-step. Just for once she wished she could meet someone who didn’t feel the need to either stare or make some comment about her height when they met her, as if she were somehow unaware of it, like a child to be critiqued and belittled, not a woman with feelings. There was only one person who’d ever treated her as if he hadn’t noticed and she was in no mood to think charitably of him. As for everyone else, she’d had enough. She’d spent her whole life being judged for her height and she wasn’t going to tolerate it any longer. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it.
‘I may be small, Mrs Gargrave, but at least I have the manners not to comment on somebody else’s appearance. If I didn’t, I might say you look like you’ve swallowed a lemon.’
The shoulders in front of her stiffened perceptibly. ‘Well, I’m sure I didn’t mean any offence, but you can’t pretend it’s not noticeable.’
‘I wouldn’t try to pretend. Neither can I grow any more.’
