Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"P lease, let me in!" Diana cried, pounding her fist against the oak door of the castle before her.

Diana had never heard of an old castle in this area, and even with her ignorance of the geography, she felt surprised. Without the light in the window, she would have assumed that it was abandoned, some old ruin from medieval times.

The rain had led her there, for it had not relented, neither had the lightning and thunder. If anything, the storm had only gotten worse. With her hair dripping and her clothes soaked down to her stays, she had realized the severity of her predicament.

Though the ride between Mrs. West's and Thornbridge may have only taken a day, Diana did not know the lands that lay between them. She barely knew the road through the forest existed, let alone any side roads or villages between.

Before she came upon the castle in front of her, she had begun to look for hollows in trees or under logs for shelter for the night.

What was I thinking? She had wondered. Surely, she would be eaten by a wolf in these woods. Or attacked by a wildcat. But at least that is better than being married to Baron Haversham.

She kept telling herself that she would just go a bit further and find something a little better for a bed for the night. As the light truly became dim, she felt as though the underbrush had become thinner, lighter, but she shook herself. She had to be mistaken.

When she saw a light flickering in the distance, she rubbed the damp from her eyes and squinted. The forest was indeed becoming sparser, and in fact, a disheveled lawn lay before her. More importantly, an old castle sprawled before her, standing high above the land around.

Shivering, tired, and weak, she had stared dumbfounded at the stone fortress.

It is probably a lair of robbers or a highwayman , she had thought. Yet, as she watched, she swore she saw the shadow of a woman. If she did not seek shelter in the old castle that night, she would surely perish, so she forced herself forward toward the massive oak front door of the castle. She heard nothing but quiet. So, she pounded louder, calling out, "Please! A weary traveler needs refuge!"

Then, she heard a voice, deep and slow, from within the castle. She startled away, leaping to her feet, to bang on the door again.

"Hello! Is anyone there?"

Faintly, she heard a woman's voice utter something in surprise. Diana pressed her ear to the door, hoping to make out the words.

"Please! Someone let me in!" she cried, banging again. "Please! I beg of you, I need shelter!"

A small voice with the excitement only a child could offer chimed in amongst the chatter of the other voices within. "Why will you not let her in?"

Diana heard a deep sigh, and light flickered in the keyhole windows overhead. At last, she heard muffled footsteps, and she jumped backward as the door opened inward. An older man with bushy gray eyebrows and a balding head opened the door. From his black suit and gloves, Diana assumed he was the butler.

"I am terribly sorry to arrive unannounced at this time of the evening, but I am lost," she explained in a rush.

An older woman joined the man, asking, "A girl alone in the woods at night?"

"Where were you heading to?" the butler asked suspiciously. His bushy eyebrows lifted, the candle in his hand casting shadows across his face.

"I was on the road to see my aunt," she lied quickly. "Just after, we had a bit of trouble. Please, may I come in? I would just like to warm myself next to a fire. I can be off by dawn to resume my journey."

A small child wedged herself between the woman and man, looking up at Diana with big, curious eyes. Her black hair fell in ringlets about her face like cascading ribbons of midnight, and as Diana's vision adjusted to the light coming from the inside, she guessed the girl was around the age of five or six.

The girl twiddled with her white nightgown as she beamed at Diana.

"She is just like a fairy princess!" the little girl cried with a gasp.

Diana raised an eyebrow at the comparison. She wondered what kind of princess would have such torn and dirty clothes, was soaked through to the bone, and stood with such disheveled hair.

The butler and woman, whom Diana assumed to be the housekeeper, would be right to turn her away based on her appearance. She supposed she looked a right fright.

"Oh, good heavens, let the girl in," the woman said, pulling on the butler's elbow. The stately, older woman had a kind expression on her face, giving Diana a pitying look. Even though she had the same prim, neat appearance as the teachers at Mrs. West's, her expression conveyed more empathy in that moment than Diana had ever received during the years she spent at school.

"Yes, yes of course," the butler said, shaking himself as he waved her in. "One cannot be too careful these days, you know."

"Thank you so much," Diana breathed, nearly weeping from relief. The butler stepped back so that Diana could enter.

"Lady Sarah, darling, come with me, so we can fetch a cloth for our guest to dry with, please," the woman said, gently pushing the young girl down the hall. The girl, Sarah, ran off quickly, skipping ahead of the woman, who quickly called out. "And please walk!"

The girl slowed to a stiff walk, which Diana could only guess would turn into a skip as soon as the girl was out of her view. Diana hid a smirk, reminded of her own youth.

"Come, we have a fire in the front parlor," the butler said, waving her along.

Diana gladly followed him, remorseful of her wet clothes dripping water all over the clean marble floors. She shivered, hugging herself from the cold, until she stepped into the parlor. The warmth relaxed her instantly, especially as the butler waved her to sit even closer to the fire, drawing up a chair for her.

"I could not possibly sit down at the moment," Diana protested. "I should ruin your chair."

"Nonsense, a little dampness should brush out," he claimed kindly, pushing the chair under her. Mere feet from the great stone fireplace, Diana held her hands out to soak in the warmth. Seated in a comfortable chair and warm, she felt her exhaustion overcome her. Just as she thought she could fall to asleep, she heard skipping in the hall.

"Lady Sarah, please!" the woman chided as she returned with Sarah by her side. The girl stopped instantly, ducking her head.

"Sorry, I forgot," Sarah said dejectedly, holding the previously requested cloth in her hand. As soon as she laid eyes on Diana, though, she lit up again, rushing to Diana's side.

"Where did you come from, Princess?" the little girl asked excitedly. "Are you from a magical place, far, far away?"

The woman grabbed the little girl's shoulders and pulled her away from Diana. "I am so sorry; I do apologize for her forwardness. I have been working diligently to teach her manners."

"Oh, it is no trouble," Diana laughed, realizing the woman was a governess not a housekeeper.

The housekeeper, however, did follow closely behind Sarah with a stern look on her face. The housekeeper was much shorter, still neatly dressed, but her dress and apron looked much more practical for hard work.

"What is this I hear about a fairy princess needing rescuing?" the housekeeper demanded, a fist on her hip. Her expression told Diana that she was used to the little girl's fanciful narratives.

"A poor wanderer indeed in need of rescuing," the butler explained, then added in an amused tone, "but no princess, at least I do not believe."

The butler turned to Diana. "What was your name, again, Miss…?"

Diana nearly blurted her name out but realized that if she gave her own name, they would perhaps offer to take her back to Thornbridge or Mrs. West's. Since the only way she could avoid that would be to pretend to be someone else, she lied, saying, "Genevieve Radcliffe, if you please."

The actual Genevieve was currently traveling with her family on the continent and, therefore, could not protest her name being used. However, Diana doubted her good friend would take offense at Diana using her as her alternate personality.

"Miss Radcliffe, then it's a pleasure to meet you," the butler said. "My name is Gibbons, and this is our housekeeper Mrs. Fenton, and our governess, Mrs. Caldwell. And of course, the lady of the house, Lady Sarah."

"What do we say to Miss Radcliffe?" the governess, Mrs. Caldwell, prompted, peering down to see Sarah's face.

Diana felt a pang of wistfulness, witnessing the gentle instruction Sarah received from Mrs. Caldwell rather than the harsh demands and physical punishment Diana had received.

"A pleasure to meet you," Sarah said with a curtsey. She looked up immediately with her bright face. "I told them that you were at the door, but they did not believe me!"

"We do not often have visitors here," the housekeeper, Mrs. Fenton, explained. "And thusly, I do not have any tea prepared. You must excuse me; let me go put a kettle on; it will take some time."

"Oh, that is quite all right," Diana protested, but the woman waved her off and disappeared out into the hall.

"We were reading a book before bed," Mrs. Caldwell explained. "A fairy tale, of course, one of Lady Sarah's favorites. I am afraid, though, they give her fanciful ideas sometimes."

"But I told them someone was at the door!" Sarah protested.

"And of course, with all the thunder and racket, and with me being a bit hard of hearing, I am afraid we did not hear your initial knocking," Mr. Gibbons apologized.

"Go ahead and give our guest the cloth," Mrs. Caldwell prompted Sarah. The little girl seemed to have forgotten that she held the drying cloth and excitedly handed it to Diana.

"Thank you very much, Lady Sarah," Diana said, taking it from her with a smile.

Sarah plopped down on the footstool near the chair, swinging her feet enthusiastically. Diana began squeezing the towel around her damp hair, already starting to dry in places from the warmth of the fire. She wished for less of an audience so that she could kick off her wet shoes and stretch her feet out from under her skirts toward the fire.

"Where did you come from?" Sarah asked.

"I was traveling, on my way to visit family," Diana responded.

The governess and butler moved away from the two of them, whispering softly near the doorway of the room, distracting Diana. She tried not to eavesdrop, but she could not help herself. She heard snippets of them mentioning the master of the castle, whether he would mind if she stayed the night. However, Sarah kept chattering, asking questions that Diana tried to answer in the vaguest ways possible.

"Do you have a governess?" Sarah asked.

"Only when I was little; I am a bit too old now to have one," Diana explained, glancing over her shoulder.

"I wish I did not have a governess. Not that I do not like Mrs. Caldwell, but she makes me read and practice my sums and embroider," Sarah prattled on.

"Those are all good skills to have," Diana told her, just as Mrs. Fenton returned to the room. She carried a tray of tea and a bowl of broth of some sort with a piece of bread.

"I do apologize that it is not more, but at least it is warm," she said, setting the tray down on a side table. Diana accepted the warm cup of tea with glee, relishing the heat flowing into her hands. Her stomach growled suddenly at the sight of the food, reminding her that she had not eaten for hours.

Mrs. Fenton must have overheard the same snippets of conversation that Diana had and turned to the governess and butler. She kept her back to Diana, but her voice was much more audible than the other two.

"Of course, she has to stay the night; look at her," Mrs. Fenton protested, gesturing toward Diana. "She is still soaking wet and exhausted. The storm will not let up until at least the morning. We send her out in this, she will catch a cold or worse!"

"But we are not supposed to have visitors," Mr. Gibbons hissed as though he hoped Diana would not overhear.

"She is no visitor; she is a poor child in need of warm clothes and a safe place to lay her head. What should we do, send her back out in the storm? A young woman alone in the forest? She would be prey for wild animals and vagrants."

"Surely our master would not mind helping someone in dire need?" the governess asked Mr. Gibbons.

"Fine, but she must use one of the rooms in the west wing and be out before His Grace is up for breakfast." The butler sighed, throwing his hands in the air. "He would turn us all out at once if he found out."

"Well, of course, we cannot tell His Grace," Mrs. Fenton agreed and was about to continue when she was interrupted.

"Cannot tell him what?" came a new voice, causing the whole room to turn around in fear, surprise, and in Diana's case, curiosity.

In the doorway to the parlor, a tall man stood, taking in the scene before him. He did not appear to be in a state to receive visitors as he did not wear a coat, and his white linen shirt was unbuttoned at his neck.

Diana gulped, wondering when was the last time she had seen a man under fifty, let alone one so attractive. His hair was dark, with a gray streak at the temple, while the beard on his chin was neatly trimmed, highlighting his strong jaw.

When he turned his gaze to Diana, though, the irritation on his face turned to anger.