Chapter 10

It was no wonder that Georgie slept badly for what remained of the night. It had been a mistake to allow herself to remember and relive in exquisite detail what had passed between her and the Duke. Especially as he had made it all too clear that he would be quite prepared to repeat the experience. He knew it would be entirely wrong, entirely unfair to the other young women he had brought here, one of them his future bride; he had accepted as much when she upbraided him, but it seemed to her that if she made the slightest move, gave him the smallest sign, he would come to her again. All the while making it plain to her that this was her choice, and that any moral qualms she might have were her responsibility alone. She certainly could not hope to deceive him into thinking she did not want him. She knew she had revealed herself all too plainly to him once again. Had he not said so? But this was not in the least a helpful train of thought.

As to what he felt – she could not be sure. He had called their… their meeting memorable, had said he could not put it from his mind. It was weak to be glad of it, and foolish too, but she supposed that even rakes – and she knew he was a rake, everyone in England knew it – did not often have such intimate encounters with complete strangers in such circumstances. Or perhaps they did. Perhaps it was a daily occurrence. Twice a day. Entirely commonplace. She felt sick and weak at the thought. At her own weak, foolish, dangerous behaviour. It was not to be repeated.

She breakfasted in the sitting room with Louisa and Miss Spry; she was glad, for she did not think she could face Mary Debenham and her mother over breakfast, feeling as she did. Or the Duke, with his mocking little smile meant only for her. She should flee from this place, to protect herself – but how could she explain such a mad start to her aunt, or hope to persuade her to agree to it? They had arrived only yesterday, and she knew that it was Louisa's intention to remain with her friend for well over a week. There was to be a ball in a few days' time, Lady Blanche had revealed last night, a grand affair that would be attended by all the families of rank in the neighbourhood, and far beyond. By unfortunate chance, a party was coming from Castle Howard, and remaining for a night or two. These were people with whom her family was exceedingly well acquainted. Lady Georgiana Morpeth, wife of the heir to Castle Howard, did not share her Christian name by accident: she was the daughter of her mother's great friend, the late Duchess of Devonshire, and someone she had known since childhood. Impossible then to persuade Louisa to depart, impossible to leave alone, and even if it were possible, it would surely occasion a great deal of comment and gossip, which was just – at this ridiculously late date – what she wished to avoid.

Miss Spry commented on her pallor, and Georgie said she had the headache, a little. She wondered if they might be able to walk out later and take the air. It was barely raining at all. ‘Yes,' said Jane. ‘If we wrap up warmly, I am sure it will do us both good. I do not ask you, Louisa, for I know it to be futile.'

‘Of course it is futile. Let us go down,' Louisa replied. ‘I will sit with Blanche by a good fire, and we will talk like civilised beings, while you two crazies court an inflammation of the lungs. "Take the air", indeed! The air is far more likely to take you! I swear I saw a seagull blow straight past the window just now with an expression of panic upon its face.'

They squabbled amiably as they made their way down the staircase, to find Lady Blanche in one of the saloons with her daughter. ‘Gabriel and Bram have taken a party of ladies out riding,' she said. ‘Although Lady Debenham did not go – she is feeling sadly bilious and is confined to her chamber, is it not a pity? Eleanor and I stayed behind, with the arrangements for the ball as an excuse. But in truth we hoped for a comfortable gossip with you.' When she learned that Miss Spry and Georgiana wished to go for a walk, and wondered if the beach could be reached without too much difficulty, she rang the bell for a footman. ‘Charles will show you the way down,' she said. ‘I am sure Eleanor would gladly accompany you if she were able, would you not, my dear?'

Miss FitzHenry said that she certainly would, and told them with shining eyes that the stair down to the sea was an extraordinary thing, such as did not exist anywhere else in her experience, and that she would gladly have gone with them, and would have enjoyed seeing their faces as they beheld it for the first time. She looked at her mother as if pleading to be allowed to do so, but Lady Blanche was firm in her refusal.

‘Eleanor, I cannot accede to such folly. You know you are just recovered from an epidemic cold, and it is not the easiest of stairs, especially not the climb back up, so I cannot permit it until you are fully recovered. But as long as you are in the best of health, ladies, I can see that you are both energetic and will not regard it in the least.'

The pair promised they would not, and after putting on their outer wear followed the footman Charles deep into the bowels of the Castle, curious to see what had so impressed Miss FitzHenry, for it must surely be something quite out of the ordinary to deserve such a panegyric. Their attendant had provided himself with a lantern, and they exclaimed at the sights it revealed as they travelled deeper and deeper through the cellarage. This was the most ancient section of the Castle, he told them, and at least a thousand years old in parts, as they could well believe from the massive blocks of stone that made up much of the walls, and which Miss Spry thought might even be Roman in origin. At last they reached a massive iron-banded oaken door, and Charles produced a huge key and inserted it into the lock. It turned with ease, and he pushed the door open and stood aside to let them pass, telling them that he would await them here if they required no further assistance. They would be quite safe alone, he assured them, for the beach was effectively private and nobody would disturb them.

They had no need of the lantern now, for there was daylight enough. They found themselves on a rough landing at the top of a flight of natural stone steps, which led down to the smooth sandy floor of a large cave. Its entrance was tall, a cleft in the rock, and through it they could see the open beach, and the wild waves. The unmistakeable scent of the sea tickled their nostrils, and they smiled at each other. What a surprise! Their companion recommended them to go down slowly and carefully, and hold on to the thick rope that had been slung as a guide rail between stout iron hoops. The steps were slippery towards the bottom and some of them perilous underfoot with strands of seaweed and shells, he told them, as they were covered by the sea at high tide.

Miss Spry made her cautious way down, and Georgie followed her. When they reached the bottom they looked back, and Charles, sitting in a niche on the landing, raised a hand in encouragement. ‘I suppose it is a sort of postern gate,' said Georgie thoughtfully. ‘The inhabitants might have used it to enter or to leave in secret, even if they were besieged, and surely kept a boat here for the purpose. An escape route, if one were needed.'

‘And even if some enemy did come this way, it would be impossible to climb the stairs and take the Castle if even a very few defenders held them. Two or three resolute men in armour might do it. Imagine coming up that narrow, slippery staircase in single file, knowing that armed men stood waiting at the top to push you back. A single misstep and you would fall to your death. How terrible, and how thrilling!'

Georgie agreed that it was both thrilling and terrible, and they made their way out onto the beach. The cave had been sheltered, but the wind outside was coming straight off the sea, loaded with spray, and literally took their breath away. They set out along the firm golden sand, glad that on Lady Blanche's recommendation they had tied scarves across their bonnets to prevent them blowing off and halfway across Yorkshire.

They walked briskly for a while in silence, their cheeks flushed and loose strands of hair whipping about their faces, and occasionally one of them bent to pick up a curious shell or gleaming stone that caught her eyes. Eventually Miss Spry stopped, and turned to look out to sea, and Georgie stood beside her, eyes watering. ‘Magnificent!' she said.

‘It is,' assented Jane. ‘And now there is not the least danger of being overheard, even by seagulls, and I hope you will tell me just exactly what is going on between you and the Duke.'