She picked up her portmanteau and Martha showed her to the door. As she climbed, with some difficulty, into the carriage, Martha waved her off and then John closed the door. Leaning back against the squabs, Hilary felt a momentary qualm as she thought of what was to come, but she told herself not to be so cowardly. She had come this far. She would see it through.
There was a jolt, and the carriage pulled away. Rain thrummed on the roof and bounced from the puddles as John manoeuvred it carefully down the road, continuing in the direction Hilary had been heading. As the minutes passed she was more and more thankful that she had found the rectory. The abbey was evidently still some way away and she would have been exhausted by the time she had reached it if she had had to continue on foot.
At last, the carriage turned to the left and Hilary leaned forward. Peering out of the window she could see little through the curtain of rain, but by and by some dim lights showed in the distance and she saw the bulk of a large building outlined against the sky. So this was to be her new home. If her luck held, that was.
The carriage rumbled to a halt. John climbed down from the box and opened the door, and Hilary stepped out.
Seen beneath the black sky, which had turned the November afternoon into something resembling night, the abbey was not a welcoming sight. Its Gothic architecture was gaunt, with jagged spires reaching into the sky. Flying buttresses supported its walls and tall, narrow windows lined its sides. Before her was an arched door made of solid oak, set in a surround of heavily-carved stone. Above it was a rose window. The window should have been beautiful, but instead it was forbidding. It reminded Hilary of a huge eye, watching her.
But she was being fanciful. Besides, there was no turning back. She must do what she had come to do.
Steeling her nerve she went up the steps to the front door. It was enormous, and she felt tiny standing in front of it. She fought down a shiver of fear, then straightening her pelisse she lifted the heavy iron knocker and let it fall. A loud clanging noise reverberated through the gloomy afternoon. By and by, the noise died away. No one came. She waited. Still no one came. She raised the knocker and was just about to let it fall again when she heard shuffling footsteps approaching the other side of the door. There was the sound of bolts being drawn back, and then the door creaked open.
An ancient butler, bent and crooked, stood there. He was dressed all in black. To Hilary’s overstretched nerves he looked like a bird of ill omen.
He bent forward and peered at her insolently.
‘What do you want?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘I am here to see Lord Carisbrooke,’ she said politely.
‘His lordship don’t want to see the likes of you.’
She was taken aback by his rudeness, but quickly recovering herself, she said firmly, ‘I have an appointment.’
A pleasant gentleman’s voice called from somewhere behind the door. ‘If the lady has an appointment, Lund, you had better let her in.’
Lund gave Hilary a sour look. Then he stood aside.
Hilary, summoning her courage, stepped over the threshold. She found herself in a cavernous stone-flagged hall. Suits of armour glinted in the shadows under the staircase, which rose in a sweep of stone from the corner of the hall before finally disappearing into the darkness above, and large tapestries hung on the walls.
A huge fireplace dominated the hall. It was flanked by two oak tables on which large branched candelabras were set, but their flickering flames, even when mixed with the leaping flames of the log fire, could not illuminate the corners of the massive space.
Above the fireplace was a fearsome-looking collection of weapons. Two-handed swords and heavy maces were mixed with spears and axes, interspersed with battered shields.
Hilary shivered. It was not a welcoming place.
But the sight of an amiable-looking gentleman standing in front of the fireplace with a large hound lying at his feet did much to dispel her forebodings. He had a handsome face and graceful posture, and was elegantly dressed. His cravat was arranged with precision, and there were frills of lace at his cuffs. His blue tailcoat was well cut, and his breeches were pulled smoothly over his slender legs.
‘My dear young lady, you are drenched,’ the gentleman said. ‘Do come over here and take a seat by the fire.’
Hilary was unwilling to impose on his hospitality and felt she must inform him of her status immediately.
‘That is very kind of you, Lord Carisbrooke, but I feel I should introduce myself. I —’
‘Lord Carisbrooke?’ His face broke into a charming smile. ‘I’m afraid you are under a misapprehension. I am not Lord Carisbrooke.’
‘No?’ Hilary was surprised.
His smile became rueful. ‘Unfortunately not.’
‘Oh.’
Hilary was disappointed. She was sure he would have honoured her appointment, if he had been the earl.
‘But perhaps I can be of assistance? I am his cousin - his distant cousin. My name is Ulverstone.’
‘Mr Ulverstone.’ Hilary inclined her head.
She was just about to explain her presence when the door, caught by a gust of wind, banged open. She started, then looked towards it ... and felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. For there, standing in the doorway was the broad-shouldered, shaggy-haired, bear-like figure she had met in the woods.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ he growled.
‘Ah, Marcus, there you are.’ The elegant young gentleman’s eyes twinkled. ‘You did not tell me you were expecting such delightful company.’
Marcus, Lord Carisbrooke, fixed Hilary with unwelcoming eyes.
‘That’s because I’m not.’
Chapter Two
Hilary’s spirits sank at the knowledge that the bear-like gentleman of her earlier acquaintance was none other than the owner of Carisbrooke Abbey! As he stood there glowering at her, she felt herself quail. She had been determined to convince him of her capability and efficiency at their first meeting, and instead she had convinced him of quite the opposite. But there was no use repining. She would just have to go on with what she had been saying.
Fighting down her despondency she said, as calmly as she could, ‘Lord Carisbrooke.’ She held out her hand, and endeavoured to control it, for it seemed to have developed an alarming tendency to shake.
He glowered at her for a minute, and then descended the three shallow stone steps that led into the hall.
‘There was no one in at the rectory, I suppose. You caught sight of the lights of the abbey through the trees and decided to follow them. Though where the devil the rector can have gone on a night like this —’
‘No,’ she interrupted him. ‘You are mistaken. The rector was in at the rectory, as well as his wife. A charming couple.’ She came to a halt, realizing that she was babbling. Taking a deep breath, she continued more slowly. ‘They were good enough to lend me their carriage so that I could continue my journey and keep my appointment.’ She put on what she hoped was a confident smile. ‘I am very pleased to meet you, Lord Carisbrooke. I am Miss Wentworth.’
‘I don’t give a damn who you - Wentworth?’ he asked suspiciously.
‘Yes.’ She kept the smile fixed to her face.
He regarded her with narrowed eyes and Hilary had to fight an urge to step back as he drew closer.
‘Wentworth?’ he demanded, his eyes glimmering under beetling brows.
‘That’s right.’ Her smile was now stretched so tight her face was starting to ache. She wanted to lean back, but she fought down the impulse and remained standing upright.
He scowled, and then demanded suddenly, ‘Where the devil is your brother?’
She was so surprised she dropped her hand to her side. ‘My brother? I don’t have a brother.’
‘Your father then,’ he said dismissively, shrugging himself out of his soaking greatcoat and handing it to Lund. ‘He’s drunk himself into a stupor, I suppose, and sent you to tell me he’s fallen ill and won’t be
here ‘til next week.’
‘I don’t have a father either.’
His chin jutted forward. ‘Then what do you have, Miss Wentworth? An uncle, a grandfather —’
‘I have no male relatives, sir - my lord,’ she corrected herself.
He looked sour.
Ignoring his expression, she continued, ‘I am here in my own right.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I have come to take up my position as your new librarian.’
‘My what?’ demanded Lord Carisbrooke.
‘Your librarian,’ she said, though she could not help her voice trailing away a little at the end of the sentence.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’ he glowered.
‘No, I do assure you —’
‘Someone in the village put you up to it. A wager, no doubt.’
‘Not at all —’
He grimaced. ‘Well, you have had your fun. And now you had better leave.’
He prowled over to the door, but before he could open it she spoke.
‘It is no wager,’ she said.
Something in her tone gave him pause.
‘I applied for a position as your librarian,’ she went on, taking a deep breath, ‘and you offered me the post.’
He eyed her suspiciously, but then seemed to become aware of the young gentleman’s interest in the exchange.
‘This is none of your business, Ulverstone.’
‘But it is so interesting,’ returned Mr Ulverstone mildly.
‘Harumph! Interesting to you, perhaps, but not to me.’ Lord Carisbrooke turned back to Hilary. His chin jutted out. ‘I don’t know what the devil you’re doing here but it seems I won’t be able to get rid of you until I’ve heard you out. Your claim to be my librarian is preposterous, but I want to know why you’re making it, so you had better follow me.’
He turned and strode across the cavernous hall without further ado.
Hilary hesitated.
‘I’m most dreadfully sorry,’ said Mr Ulverstone, looking at Hilary with an apologetic smile. ‘I’m afraid my cousin has never had very agreeable manners, and of late they have become even worse. But if I might give you a word of advice. He is not an easy man to work for. You would be well advised to leave the abbey and seek a position elsewhere.’
Hilary shook her head. Finding an alternative position might seem an easy task to Mr Ulverstone, but before being offered the job at the abbey she had been seeking work for months without success, and Lord Carisbrooke was her last hope. Whatever his manners, she would have to keep the position if she could.
By this time Lord Carisbrooke had almost disappeared. Recalling her thoughts to the matter in hand she hurriedly followed him across the hall, her footsteps echoing on the flags, before venturing into his study. It was of cavernous proportions, but it was at least mellower than the hall. Gold drapes covered the windows and a worn red carpet covered the floor. An oak desk, littered with papers, was pushed to one side of the room. Behind it was a heavy oak chair, carved with spires and pinnacles. In the far corner was a more comfortable-looking chair, set to the left of the fireplace, and standing in front of the fireplace was Lord Carisbrooke.
He made an imposing sight. His large body was encased in buckskin breeches, an ill-fitting tailcoat and a pair of muddy boots. His grizzled hair, covered in raindrops, reached to his collar, and his body was so huge it almost obscured the crackling flames.
His eyes ran over her in one swift, disparaging glance, and Hilary swallowed, becoming suddenly aware of how dishevelled she must look. Her bonnet was battered and her pelisse was soaked. Her hair had come loose of its pins and had escaped her bonnet, straggling in rats’ tails across her shoulders. Her face was smeared and her boots were filthy. Her portmanteau was no better, being old and worn.
Still, she raised her chin.
‘Now, Miss Wentworth - if you are who you say you are - why have you been trespassing on my property, walking through my woods and then turning up on my doorstep claiming to be my librarian. What do you mean by it?’
She swallowed the qualms that were assailing her and replied, ‘It is perfectly simple.’ She put her portmanteau down on the floor to give her a minute to steady herself, for he was glaring at her in such a way that her heart was thumping uncomfortably in her chest. ‘I answered your advertisement for a librarian, and you wrote back saying that my application had been successful. I have the letter here.’
She took out the crumpled, soggy piece of paper and gave it to him.
He took it roughly out of her hand, eyeing her disbelievingly as he did so. Then he dropped his gaze and read the letter through.
‘As I thought, I made you no such offer. This letter is addressed to Mr Wentworth.’
Remembering the gleam of admiration she had seen in his eye when she had stood up to him in the woods, she knew that this was a moment when she must be bold, and so she replied audaciously, ‘An unfortunate mistake. But not one I hold against you.’
‘Oh, isn’t it?’ The dark pools of his eyes turned to her. They were appraising. ‘That is very generous of you.’
But despite his beetling brows she could tell that by standing up to him she had not done herself any harm.
‘However, I’m not about to offer Miss Wentworth a job that was offered to Mr Wentworth,’ he continued. ‘Let this be a lesson to you to tell the truth in the future.’
‘I never did anything else,’ she replied. ‘It is not my fault if you assumed I was a man. I certainly made no such claim.’
‘No?’ He swept a piece of paper from his desk. ‘This is your letter. After telling me of your experience, you sign the letter - but perhaps you had better read it,’ he said, holding it out to her.
She looked at the signature, and then met his gaze. ‘It says Hilary Wentworth.’
‘Exactly. Hilary Wentworth. And that isn’t you.’
‘Yes. It is,’ she said, straightening her spine.
‘Hilary is a man’s name.’
‘And also a woman’s. I made no mention of my sex in the letter, and you never enquired. I cannot be blamed if your assumption was incorrect.’
‘Splitting hairs,’ he growled.
‘Speaking the truth,’ she returned.
He glowered down at her. ‘You’re very outspoken for a librarian.’
‘I have to be. If I don’t plead my case, no one else will plead it for me,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘Hah!’
She thought she had angered him, but then saw that his face held a grudging esteem.
Suddenly turning the conversation, he rumbled, ‘What were you doing in the woods? I gave you directions in my letter. You should have come across the moor. If you had taken my advice you could have cut a mile and a half from your journey, and spared yourself a painful ordeal.’
He glanced at her foot as he spoke.
‘I lost my bearings. I went into the wood so that the wind would not whip your letter out of my hands when I read it. As chance would have it, a shower of rain loosed from one of the branches landed on the instructions, smudging the ink. I thought it better to carry on the way I had been going, rather than turn back and face the hill. The rest you know.’
‘It’s a pity you didn’t turn back. There is nothing for you here.’
She flushed, but she was not prepared to give up so easily. Her livelihood depended on it.
Straightening her shoulders, she said, ‘I fail to see why not. I can do everything that is required of your librarian. I can arrange and catalogue your library. Moreover, I can work on my own without supervision, something you stated was important to you.’
He regarded her intently.
‘You cannot have had many answers to your advertisement,’ she continued. ‘You appointed me without meeting me, something I am persuaded you would not have done if you had had a choice of applicants. And I am here. I can start work first thing in the morning.’
His bushy eyebrows lifted, and she thought for a moment that her words had swayed him.
But then his face closed.
‘I can’t have a woman in the abbey. It would be sheer stupidity.’
She was startled. What a strange thing to say! Even so, she was not prepared to let the matter rest.
‘You will not know I am here. If I work without supervision, then we need never see each other. I will spend my days in the library and I will not get in your way.’
Her eyes ran over her assessingly. But then he growled, ‘No.’
Her spirits sank, for this time there was a note of finality in his voice.
He pulled the huge, tasselled bell rope that hung next to the fireplace, and a minute later Lund entered the room.
‘Miss Wentworth is leaving, Lund,’ he said. ‘Show her out.’
Hilary was horrified. ‘Leaving?’
She glanced towards the rain-lashed windows, and then looked back at Lord Carisbrooke. ‘You surely can’t expect me to walk back to the village tonight?’
‘It would serve you right if I did,’ he rumbled. ‘But I suppose you will have to stay until the morning.’ He turned to the aged servant, who was watching the exchange with a dour expression on his face. ‘Lund, take Miss Wentworth upstairs and put her in the Red Room.’
‘No good’ll come of it,’ said Lund with gloomy relish.
Hilary shared his gloom. She was no more desirous of staying than Lord Carisbrooke and Lund were of having her, but she could not venture further tonight.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly.
‘There’s no need to thank me - as you’ll discover. You will leave first thing in the morning.’
It was not a supposition, it was a command.
Cold, wet and tired, Hilary had no more desire to argue. She might be in need of work, but she had changed her mind about wanting to work at the abbey. She never wanted to speak to this bad-tempered bear of a man again!
* * * *
An hour later, Hilary was finally able to do what she had longed to do all day, and that was to relax in front of a tolerable fire. The time since quitting Lord Carisbrooke’s study had not been easy. First had come the painful business of climbing the stairs. Then she had seen why Lord Carisbrooke had told her not to thank him for the use of the Red Room, as it was a cold, cavernous chamber, with its furniture swathed in dust sheets and an empty grate.