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I realised with a start that I was standing, open-mouthed in the corridor—the wide, modern corridor—just beyond my bedroom. One of the younger footmen had rounded the corner and was regarding me with bemused interest. With a blush that finally warmed my chilled face, I hurried away toward the stairs.
* * *
I was an early riser, but I knew from experience that Eddie was not. When he moved in with me in Paris, the only times I saw him before noon were those occasions when he rolled into the apartment at dawn after a night’s carousing. Even when he did surface, he would have a face like a thundercloud for an hour or more. We gave each other a wide berth during that time.
But I was bored. I had drunk coffee and nibbled a wafer-light pastry and decided, since no one else seemed to be stirring, to explore Athal House some more.
“Mr Edward told me that there were parts of the original castle incorporated into the house when it was built. I would like to see those, if I may,” I said to Porter, who was hovering in the hall when I emerged from the breakfast parlour. He was the most visible of the servants, although Lucy had also introduced me to the housekeeper, Mrs Webster. There also seemed to be several footmen and a number of maids. A young girl had attended my room before dinner and when I rose in the morning—a custom I found quite amusing. I was perfectly capable of dressing myself and styling my own hair. I had, after all, been doing those things all my life. It was pleasant, however, to have my clothes cared for, my bath prepared and my room made comfortable. What a pity this life of luxury was not to be mine permanently. I thought wryly that I might as well enjoy it while I could.
“Certainly, miss.” The butler bowed ponderously. “If you would care to accompany me.”
“Have you worked for the family for long, Porter?” I asked as we traversed the main corridor.
“I was hired by his lordship soon after his marriage, miss,” he said. “It was a difficult time for the family. The earl and countess were married on his lordship’s twenty first-birthday, but the castle burned down on the same day. His lordship’s uncle had run the estate until he came of age, but he was killed in the fire. My master had to learn how to run a large estate, take control of the business interests and establish a home for his new bride all at the same time. When I started working for him, their home was a large manor house, just north of Port Isaac.” When he spoke about Tynan, there was genuine respect and affection in his voice. “But I believe it was always his intention to return to Athal. It has been the family home since history began. This place belongs to the Jagos and they to it.”
It seemed an oddly poetic statement, but we had reached the rear of the building by that time so I didn’t have time to question it. Porter explained that this was the ballroom and the walls here had formed part of the main hall of the original castle. In keeping with the rest of the house, this merging of old and new had been tastefully done. The newer walls that flanked the ancient stone were lined with light oak panels, but the medieval masonry was untouched. A beautiful stained-glass window dominated the centre, depicting brave knights and beautiful maidens in long-ago colours.
“The original window was destroyed,” Porter told me as I gazed upward in admiration. “But his lordship wanted it reproduced as faithfully as possible. This is the result.”
“Are there any other parts of the inside of the house that are older?” I asked. I was thinking of the dark corridor I had strayed into and the beautiful couple I had seen. Or perhaps imagined.
“No, miss. Some of the outer walls are original, but this is the only part that has been included in the interior,” Porter replied in his precise way. “If there is nothing more, miss, I will leave you now. I have a few matters that need my attention.”
When he had gone, I reached out a hand to touch the historic stones of the first Tenebris. Something made me draw back at the last second. If this was the heart of the house, it did not beat to any rhythm I knew. Its origins were lost in the darkness of Jago time. A foul, unbidden image of these walls oozing blood took a grip on my imagination. I shook it off with an effort, but, nevertheless, I felt the need to hurry away. Sparkling pins and needles along my spine urged me to break into a run. I managed to retain my dignity. Just. But there was nothing on earth that would have persuaded me, in that instant, to glance back over my shoulder.
