Chapter Two

K itty awoke with the cock's crow, weary but resolute. The morning sun peeked between the shutters, shining brightly enough to strengthen her newly formed convictions.

She would not allow their father's recklessness to define them anymore. The menfolk of Rossfarne had shown Owain from the village. Now it was Kitty's turn to step up.

Rosalind slept on beside her, her rosebud lips slightly parted and her golden hair streaming across the thin blanket. Kitty moved slowly, anxious to prolong her sister's repose after such an eventful evening. The wooden floor creaked as she put her weight upon it, so she crossed the room on tiptoe, pausing only to scoop up Rosalind's shawl and drape it around her own shoulders.

She would not dress as usual, not yet. Her chores beckoned but just for once, thought claimed precedence over action.

Evidence of Owain's rampage was everywhere. An atmosphere of devastation hung over Shoreston Manor, with doors hanging off their hinges, belongings carelessly scattered and furniture overturned. Kitty was a stickler for tidiness and couldn't bear to see so much as a chair out of place, but this morning she closed her mind to the chaos and walked with calm determination down the stairs towards the back kitchen door. The stone-flagged floor was cold against her bare feet but her wooden pattens were nowhere to be seen. Sighing, she slipped back the bolt and stepped out into the fresh morning. Immediately, she felt better. She could breathe more easily and some of the worry weighing on her shoulders abated. She tilted her face up towards the sun and closed her eyes, basking like a cat on a hot day.

Standing like this, she could almost believe that her plans, formed during an anxious night, had some small chance of success. Although the idea still made her stomach churn.

Could she really journey to the castle and converse with an earl?

She had to try, no matter what.

The blackbird had already begun the morning chorus. Kitty breathed deeply and let the lilting melody wash over her. If she concentrated, she could hear the roar of the sea from beyond the fields. A faint tang of salt clung to her lips and a gentle breeze caressed her tired limbs.

Yes, she had to try.

There was nothing to ponder, not really. She couldn't stand back and do nothing. Not when Rosalind's only chance of a bright future hung on the Answick jewels. Without them she would have no dowry, and no chance of a good marriage. Kitty didn't have to swing her gaze to the wattle-and-daub manor behind her to know that the roof was sagging. With their mother's meagre inheritance all but spent, there was no coin to keep up repairs to the house. The awful truth was that the Alden sisters could not live on at Shoreston for many more years, eking out an existence between a fertile kitchen garden, a clutch of chickens and the charity of the townsfolk.

Charity. Kitty's lip curled in disgust. How she hated that word.

She had already accepted more charity from the people of Rossfarne than was proper or right. She knew many of the locals had written off Owain's gambling debts in deference to the wellbeing of his daughters. It was some time since either Lizzie or Alfred had received the coin they were due, and she recognized pity in the gazes of the fishing families as she browsed their market stalls every Tuesday. Since her mother's death, she was no longer beheld as the daughter of Isabella of Answick. Instead, she was the daughter of Owain the drunkard; the fisherman who hadn't stepped on a fishing boat since his wedding day.

Worst of all were their weekly trips to chapel. The first pew was always reserved for the Aldens, even though the most genteel family in the village was now, indisputably, the Erkines—farmers who owned land at the other side of the river. Mrs. Erkine had been a regular caller at Shoreston when Mother was alive. She would sit in the parlour and converse with Isabella, bouncing a chubby toddler on her knee. Now, every Sunday, the same kindly woman sat diagonally behind Kitty casting sympathetic glances at her shabby dress and faded bonnet.

Kitty still tried to keep up appearances, for Rosalind's sake, but with each passing year it became harder.

She closed her eyes. Enough. She would take the necessary action. Even though the prospect filled her with dread.

She walked further into the garden, ignoring the dew that clung to the hem of her chemise and enjoying the springy feel of the early summer grass. The ground was soft and muddy from recent rain. She would have to wash her feet before setting off for the castle, although that was the least of it. She would also have to put on her best dress and pin her hair and somehow find the right words to further her cause with a man she didn't know and already feared. But she would willingly do all this and more for Rosalind.

Her heart beat faster as she remembered the man in the carriage, his chiselled jawline and low, authoritative voice. She would have to lay claim to her mother's name, which meant remembering how to be a lady, how to speak, how to stand and how to address an earl.

She paused at the edge of the pasture where the ground began its downward journey towards the sheer cliffs and the sparkling sea. She shaded her eyes and gazed towards the horizon. On a clear day like today, the dark battlements of Rossfarne Castle sprang out sharply against the endless blue backdrop. Two hundred years earlier, the old Earl of Rossfarne had insisted on building his home on a small island, separated from the mainland by a thin strip of seawater. When the tide was out, two thousand paces would take you from Rossfarne Cove to the castle gatehouse, although few folk from hereabouts would elect to.

People who left for the castle didn't always come back.

Walking meant there was a chance of being cut off by the tide. It would be safer to go by boat, Kitty mused, but her father's boat was no longer seaworthy. She would have to walk. Although the destination was as perilous as the journey towards it.

"What are you doing out here, Miss Katherine?"

Jolted from her thoughts, Kitty turned to find Lizzie standing beside a pair of blossom-filled apple trees.

"I am judging the tides," she replied, as steadily as she could.

"For what purpose?" The old woman frowned. Her servant's cap was starched and neat, but her watery blue eyes were still creased with tiredness.

Kitty held her gaze. "This morning I will walk over to Rossfarne Castle."

"No," Lizzie cried, dropping her pail of chicken feed in distress. "You mustn't do such a thing."

"I must." Kitty was emphatic. "I will speak to the earl and recover Mother's jewels." Despite her iron will, her voice shook and betrayed her nerves. She looked away from Lizzie towards the low-slung house she'd always known as home.

"Glory be, do you think that monster is just going to hand them over to you if you ask him nicely?" Lizzie shook her head in disbelief as she bent to scoop up the spilled corn.

Kitty swallowed. "We don't know that he's a monster. We shouldn't judge him by his uncle's behaviour."

"We have evidence enough," Lizzie began, but then she stopped short. She opened her mouth and closed it again, as if there was something she wanted to say but she couldn't find the words.

"It doesn't matter anyway." Kitty folded her arms against a sudden breeze. "Without the jewels, Rosalind has no hope of a good marriage." She shrugged. "I have to try, Lizzie."

The servant's gaze softened. "I know you'd give your last breath to help your sister, but you don't have to take on the evils of the world all by yourself." She ploughed on before Kitty could interrupt. "Trust the Lord above and the good folk of Rossfarne." She stepped forward and placed one gnarled hand on Kitty's shoulder as the other clutched her crucifix. "We'll see you right."

More charity, which she didn't want to accept. Kitty took a deep breath and placed her hand over Lizzie's. "The people here have already been too kind, given us too much." She squeezed her fingers. "I'm young and strong, Lizzie. When the time comes, I can work in the farms or in the fields and do whatever it takes. This pretence at gentility is for Rosalind's sake, to better her prospects for a good marriage. You know that. She deserves the future she would have had if Mother hadn't passed away." She broke her gaze, unable to bear the sympathy flashing in Lizzie's eyes. "And to that end, I will go to Rossfarne Castle and ask for our jewels to be returned. The worst he can do is say no." She smiled to hide her fears.

Lizzie looked anguished. Her healthy cheeks were pale and her eyes wild. "Oh, Miss Katherine, he'll do far worse than that once he's got you inside that castle."

"I'm going, Lizzie." Kitty made her voice calm and resolute. "Just as soon as the tides allow it."

*

Barely an hour later she had laced up her cleanest kirtle, persuaded her wilful red hair to stay pinned neatly beneath her hood, and trooped down the stairs to the front hall where her sister and Lizzie waited with sombre faces. Rosalind held up a small oval looking glass so she could see the effect.

"You look lovely, Kitty," her sister said, "but you don't have to do this. I don't need Mother's jewels for a dowry. I want to marry for love."

Kitty cupped Rosalind's smooth cheek with her own rough hand. "That isn't how it works. I wish it was."

"Then I'll just stay here for the rest of my life with you and Lizzie."

Kitty wanted to say they wouldn't be able to stay in this big house for many years longer, certainly not for the rest of their lives. The coin chests were almost empty, and the roof was letting in damp. But she pressed her lips together and said nothing. There was no need to cause extra alarm on a day like today. She gazed at her reflection in the oval glass, surprised at the difference a tidy dress could make. The young woman looking back at her could be on her way to meet friends in the marketplace. She looked like someone accustomed to laughter and ease and fun. Not a drudge with a prematurely aching back and no prospects.

Kitty motioned for Rosalind to put the looking glass away. Her reflection made her miserable.

Alfred walked in from the kitchen and dropped the heavy load of firewood he was carrying when he caught sight of Kitty.

"You're never going to him?" he said.

Kitty turned in surprise. It was unlike Alfred to drop anything and even further out of character for him to question her decisions.

"I'm walking to Rossfarne Castle while the tide is out, and there isn't anything you can say to change my mind," she said sharply, hoping to deter any debate.

"But dressed like that." He gestured to her snugly fitting kirtle. "You'd be better off in your apron with smuts on your face."

Kitty's eyebrows shot upwards. Had the events of last night turned Alfred's mind?

He acknowledged her bewilderment and turned to Lizzie with a frown. "You haven't told her, have you?"

Lizzie wrung her hands in her apron. "Lord help me, I haven't found the words," she wailed, sinking down into a hard wooden chair beside Rosalind.

"What words?" Kitty interrupted, her pulse beginning to pound. "What haven't you told me?"

The two servants glared at one another in a silent battle of wills and Kitty held her breath. What fresh bad news awaited them?

"She needs to know," Alfred barked, his hands on his hips.

Kitty bit her lip to prevent herself crying out in frustration.

"Mercy, I can't do it," Lizzie sobbed into her clean apron.

Alfred sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Miss Katherine. The truth is, the jewels aren't the only thing your father gambled with last night."

Kitty laughed. She couldn't help it. "We hardly have anything else."

He avoided her gaze and didn't smile back. "It was a high stakes game. Just Owain and the earl left in. When your father proposed his jewels, the earl said he couldn't vouch for their quality." The manservant ran out of words and fell silent.

"And?" Kitty prompted. Her stomach was a tangle of anxiety but she didn't allow a trace of it to show in her voice.

"And your father suggested his eldest daughter in addition to the jewels," Alfred said in a rush.

At first the words made no sense but as the meaning sank in, she knew the hottest, deepest flush of embarrassment she had ever experienced. Heat rose through her tightly strung bodice to sting her cheeks. "You don't mean…" she trailed off. Beside her, Rosalind's eyes opened wide.

"I'm afraid so." Alfred looked anywhere but at her. "Your father lost the game. Which means that you belong to the Earl of Rossfarne."

Bile rose in her throat. Her stomach heaved and she pushed past her sister, desperate to be outside. Once through the back door she took great lungfuls of fresh air, but the tang of the sea and the gentle breeze didn't calm her as it had earlier. She might never be calm again. Deep, debilitating shame had taken root inside her heart.

She belonged to the Earl of Rossfarne.

She knew what that meant. It meant he could do as he pleased with her, in all ways. Although she wasn't too sure what those ways might be. Her mother had died before she could explain the mysteries of the marriage bed, leaving Kitty to puzzle things out for herself. But she knew that years ago, when she was still a child, young women from Rossfarne had been lured to the castle by the old earl and most of them were never seen in the village again. Worse, they were spoken of with derision, as if by entering the castle gates they had abandoned all honour and standing.

But she'd heard whispered tales that were even more awful than that. The old earl's insistence on the right of Prima Nocta, the first night with any bride on his lands. The unexplained mystery of a high tower room. Women shamed, jumping off the harbour wall to avoid a life of torment.

Why had she thought that the new earl would behave differently?

Kitty couldn't help herself—she began to tremble so violently her teeth chattered together.

Rosalind crept up beside her and slipped a cool hand into hers. "You don't have to go. We could run away." The wind caught hold of her shawl and it streamed out behind her.

Kitty looked down, shaking her head. "You're not running anywhere," she replied woodenly. Her intentions had been so clear just moments earlier, but now it was as if a fog had settled over her brain.

"Don't ruin your life just for me." Rosalind spoke with more passion than Kitty had ever heard from her before.

Kitty looked at her in surprise, noting the pink of her cheeks and the painful jutting of her shoulder blades. "It's too late for that. Don't you see? My life is already ruined." The words came blurting out before she could stop them.

Rosalind tossed back her golden hair which she'd pinned back behind her ears. "It doesn't have to be."

Kitty fought an urge to pull her hand away from her sister's. There was so much about the world that Rosalind simply didn't understand.

"You still have choices," her sister added pleadingly.

"Do I?" She raised her eyebrows. It didn't feel like she had choices. But all the same, Rosalind's pronouncement had sparked the beginnings of an idea.

"I heard what you said to Lizzie this morning." Rosalind traced circles with her bare toes in the damp grass.

"You followed me out here?" Despite everything else going on, Kitty was still cross that Rosalind had risen early after such a restless night.

"Why shouldn't I? You treat me like a child but I'll be sixteen soon."

"Not soon, Rosalind. Your sixteenth birthday falls on Michaelmas Eve."

Rosalind made an impatient gesture. "You told Lizzie that you could find work anywhere, in the fields or on a farm. And it's true. You could do anything. We could go anywhere." She leaned forward to pluck a sprig of fresh mint and the pungent scent filled the air.

Kitty stared at her sister, her mind racing. "What did you say?"

Rosalind frowned back, crumpling the mint between her fingers. "What do you mean?"

"Just now. What did you say just now?" Kitty clutched her skirts to control her mounting excitement.

"That you could do anything." Rosalind shrugged. "You don't need me to tell you that."

"I could find work as a maid or servant." Kitty tried out the words and found she didn't hate them.

"If you wanted. But you shouldn't have to. You're a direct descendent of the Duke of Answick." Rosalind's voice grew loud and high.

Kitty held up a hand to stop her. "Would you say I could find work as a serving maid here in Rossfarne?" She held her breath. The plan forming before her eyes was bold and daring, but was it workable?

"Of course." Rosalind screwed up her pretty face. "Although it's unlikely anyone in the village would have enough coin put by to hire a maid. And they probably wouldn't hire you out of respect for Mother." She unclenched her fingers and let the crumpled mint fall to the ground. A small garden bird hopped forward to inspect this surprising offering, then flew off into the apple tree.

Kitty folded her arms tightly across her chest, conscious of her restrictive clothing. On the distant horizon she could just make out the battlements of Rossfarne Castle. A gull cried mournfully overhead, spurring her towards a decision.

"I imagine the Earl of Rossfarne has plenty of coin," she said.

Her sister looked up sharply, her blue eyes squinting against the weak sunlight. "You can't mean what I think you mean."

"Why not?" Kitty swallowed. "It's a way out of this." She paused, still testing out the idea in her head. "I can't go to the castle and ask for the jewels to be returned, not now that I know what Father did. But I can go to the castle in disguise, find the jewels and bring them back to you."

"No." Rosalind shook her head so vigorously her hair came unpinned. "It's far too dangerous."

"I'd be as good a servant as anyone." Kitty inspected her square nails and scuffed knuckles, fighting down a ripple of anxiety. "And the new earl has only just come to Rossfarne, so it's likely his household is not yet complete," she thought aloud.

"You'll be recognised." Rosalind grasped at the trunk of the apple tree, as if she could no longer support her own weight.

"No, I won't." Kitty had already thought of this. "No one from the village works at the castle. The old earl brought all his servants from over the county border. And they scarcely ever come across to the mainland."

"True enough mayhap, but it's still a terrible idea. The earl will be looking for you." Rosalind faltered and her cheeks flushed even pinker than before.

Kitty spoke quickly to cover her discomfort. "I'll give a false name. He has no idea what I look like." She lifted her chin defiantly. "Who knows, he may have even forgotten about Father's wager." She bit her lip as a new wave of embarrassment washed over her. "But we know he definitely has the jewels. And we need them back."

"But your hair," Rosalind blurted out, her eyes open wide in a mute appeal for Kitty to see sense.

Her sister's words gave her a moment's pause. She couldn't deny that her tumbling locks of red hair would give her away as her father's daughter to anyone who had laid eyes upon him. They shared the exact shade of burning copper, rarely seen on these shores. And the resemblance didn't stop there. She had also inherited his height, his flashing sea-green eyes and his infamous stubbornness.

But despite all that, she wasn't about to turn back now.

"I shall keep my head covered," she promised. "Besides, I won't be there long enough for anyone to start caring who I am or where I come from."

*

Kitty held back her tears until she had hugged her sister goodbye and was striding across the sandy beach in a direct line towards the thin causeway. A slight breeze buffeted back the floppy straw hat she had borrowed from Lizzie. She was obliged to use one hand to hold it in place while the other clutched at the skirts of her rough woollen servant's dress. With every step she took away from Shoreston, she lost a little of her courage. Twice she nearly turned back, but the memory of Rosalind's face kept her going.

A group of small children were playing on the sands, searching for shells and daring one another to run into the waves. Their happy shrieks put her in mind of her sister as a carefree young girl and she walked on with renewed purpose. Luckily no one was about to witness her journey to the Isle of Rossfarne. If anyone had tried to stop her—or worse, recognised her—she would have wilted to the ground with shame. Alfred's words still echoed through her mind.

You belong to the Earl of Rossfarne.

What would the earl have done to her if Alfred hadn't run back from the alehouse and warned them to hide?

She shuddered so violently her pattens slipped on the wet stones and she very nearly fell. Once again, she looked towards home with a lump in her throat. It wasn't too late to turn back.

She breathed deeply to quell her rising panic, but the grief in her heart refused to be denied. All of the pain and upset of the past evening reared up inside her. Father's anger, Rosalind's fear, Lizzie's helpless worrying. Her fingers clutched at her skirts as she remembered Alfred's staunch bravery, especially when he had drawn the bolt against the master of the house. Such kindness and love she had known, and now she was walking away from it, to the castle of a monster.

She closed her eyes. These thoughts would get her nowhere. She was like an overtired youngster, growing more hysterical by the minute. She must think and act more positively, like a young woman taking steps to secure her family's future. To secure Rosalind's future.

Mother's jewels were beautiful. A necklace of gleaming sapphires, bluer than a summer sky, a hair pin tipped with pearl and an oval amber brooch. But the piece they prized above the rest was a cross-shaped pendant embedded with blood-red rubies. Mother used to hold it up to Kitty's neck and laugh at the similarities in shade and colour between the precious stones and her daughter's hair.

"This one is for you, Kitty," she'd promised. "Your dowry."

Kitty had believed her. The future had been bright and magical then. But within five years of her mother's death, she'd hidden the jewels inside the dresser and determined they should all be destined for Rosalind's dowry. Every last one. Even the ruby pendant. By then, the funds inside the big coin chests in the basement were running low. Father had gambled away the silver which mother had painstakingly saved. And the Duke of Answick was no longer prepared to support their family, now that his niece was dead.

It was down to her. She had no one else to rely on.

Kitty straightened her back and shaded her eyes from the bright late-morning sunshine. Without meaning to, her gaze focused on the battlements of Rossfarne Castle, which reared out of the haze like some mythical creature of the deep. Her heart began to beat wildly once again, but instead of submitting to her emotions, Kitty refused to break her gaze.

It was but a castle. A stone dwelling, like any other. What harm could a mere building cause her?

Immediately, a hundred stories and warnings flashed before her eyes, but Kitty batted them away. Those stories all pertained to the old earl, who was dead and gone. She wouldn't let fear of a man no longer living keep her from doing what needed to be done.

She would not be led by fear.

Feeling stronger, she took a deep lungful of fresh, salty air. Her mother may have been Lady Isabella of Answick, but her father was a fisherman. She came from a long line of healthy, hearty peasants who had prospered on these shores. And she wasn't like those poor girls who had been lured to the castle in times gone by. She was prepared. She was on her guard. If the Earl of Rossfarne thought he could best her, he would have a fight on his hands.

As if simply thinking his name had conjured him up, the outline of a tall, muscular man astride a powerful horse came into view. She gasped out loud, dropping her skirts and putting her hands to her heart in fear that it may jump outside her chest. He was there, before her. The Earl of Rossfarne. It could only be him. None other hereabouts could have his bearing, his brooding presence, his looming authority which radiated across the shallow sea.

Her pulse slowed. She must have fallen victim to some trick of the hazy light, for the man on the horse was not before her. He was at the other end of the causeway, standing as still as if he had been hewn from rock.

Surveying his estate. Surveying what was his.

Surveying her?

Her stomach heaved as if she might be sick, yet still she couldn't take her eyes from the apparition. She was drawn to him, despite all she knew. He looked so masterful, full of power, easily dominating the heavy warhorse he sat astride. She imagined the set of his shoulders, his powerful arms, the muscles in his calves, gripping the warm flesh of the horse.

Her face flushed and she stumbled back a few paces. Where had that notion come from? Kitty was not accustomed to picturing men's calves nor any other part of them. It was the lurid tales of the old earl that had got into her head. Tales she must banish if she had any hope of succeeding in her quest.

For a moment she once again considered flight. To continue meant walking towards the terrifying figure at the other end of the causeway. Meant serving him, in his castle of ill repute.

Kitty lifted her chin, rammed her straw hat more firmly down on her head and strode onto the damp stones of the causeway. She would reclaim her family jewels and take them home for her sister. She would succeed, for she had no other choice.