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Chapter Fourteen
“I did not observe anything in your behaviour to compel a remark, excepting the ungraceful manner in which you ate your custard-pudding.”
Private Education: A Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies.
Elizabeth Appleton. 1815.
With the picnic hampers emptied and the champagne quaffed, conversation remained muted as the autumn afternoon lingered. A sea breeze had gathered strength so the broad parasols for shade lay unused, the low sun imbuing a welcome warmth.
Guests had gathered into individual scattered circles upon the blankets which suited Rhys as their picnic had felt more akin to a hierarchical supper at Carlton House. Besides the prospective brides, his own circle now included Hugh, Mari, her governess and Gwen, but to appease Cousin Elen, who’d closed her eyes in exasperation at the blatant disregard of her seating plan, Rhys was now propped on an elbow beside Lady Bronwen who herself reclined upon the red silk cushions like a courtesan in a brothel – all come-hither smiles and… He removed her hand from his knee.
“Your Grace?” she purred. “Do tell us the tale of this magnificent tower.”
The young Miss Vaughn turned, her eyes bright. “Mr Turner, I believe, painted a similar one further inland?”
“Yes, let’s hear it,” called Hugh, who sprawled in a similar manner to Lady Bronwen – a roué in a brothel – and Rhys wondered if anyone really knew what lay behind that languorous façade of his heir.
Perhaps the same could be said of anyone? Of Lady Bronwen and Miss Beaujeu? Were we all a contradiction of who we portrayed? Conforming to societal expectations or duty.
Sitting up, he stared at the ancient tower. “It was once part of the mighty Castell y Ddraig itself, built by Llywelyn the Great in the thirteenth century to keep the English at bay.”
Mr Pritchard grunted approvingly.
“But there’s an outside staircase to the first floor,” pointed out Miss Craddock.
“So intelligent, my daughter.”
Rhys cleared his throat. “Originally that staircase would have been inside the now sacked fortified walls and constructed of wood, burned down if invaders threatened. The fortress was oval in layout with three further towers and a great hall at the far end.”
“Magnificent,” murmured Lady Bronwen, eyes on his chest and not the tower. “But what happened to cause its destruction?”
“The English captured it. Edward I in 1284 and he carted most of it away to create Caernarfon Castle – an ultimate demonstration of power, no? To destroy a peoples’ work and then reuse the detritus to display your own might.”
“But now English artists paint these towers,” mused Gwen. “We oft used to climb to the top as children.”
“It’s still possible via the inside circular staircase. The views are sublime, if a touch breezy, with the Snowdonia mountains to the distant east and the bay to the west.”
“And is it…haunted?” asked Miss Pritchard.
“Purely by the occasional fire-breathing dragon from the Llanedwyn legend…” He looked askance to Miss Beaujeu.
Her lips twitched.
For the picnic, in contrast to last night, Miss Beaujeu had dulled her hair and donned the brown that caused her skin to sallow, and he fretted she wore it as protection. From him.
The thought drew bile to his throat. Did she now consider him an obnoxious nobleman while he thought her sple–
“Well, Your Grace, I for one would prefer an intimate tour.” Lady Bronwen slid a hand to his arm. “Would you escort me?”
“Let’s all go,” interjected Hugh. “Fine idea, Lady Bronwen.”
Rhys cast his heir a grateful nod. Safety in numbers and all that.
Most of the chaperones and mothers from the other blankets declined to accompany them, but all of the young ladies, Hugh, Miss Beaujeu, Mari and the captain rose to their feet, gathered shawls, bonnets and beaver hats, and began ambling over the grass to the tower.
Some climbed the outside staircase to the first floor and gaped in at the empty shell, while others marvelled at the cavernous arched openings within the walls and speculated how the tower still stood.
“Uncle?” Mari dashed to his side, all ribbons and petticoats billowing in the breeze. “Can I climb to the top?”
