‘I will not let you abandon me in that gloomy old house while you go off and chase your mistresses.’
‘Anyone might think you are jealous, Grace.’ Rawden searched her face, but she turned away. ‘And do not concern yourself on that score,’ continued Rawden. ‘I do not intend to let you slip through my fingers again, so we are not returning to Causton House.’
‘So where are we going?’ She hardly dared ask.
‘You will see. Best you settle yourself for a long journey this day and make your peace with it, for you’ll not see London again in the near future.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Grace woke with a start and a little cry. Her face was pressed into warm wool, and it smelled good. It took a moment for her to realise she was leaning against Rawden’s broad chest, his arm about her shoulders. She leapt back and came up against the side of the carriage.
‘Awake at last. Good. Now, you must compose yourself, for we are at our destination.’ His voice was gentle, kindly almost, as was his expression. He leapt out of the carriage and held out his hand for her to take. She did so in a daze, and what she saw outside the carriage gave little comfort. A forbidding house loomed over them. It was grey stone, choked in ivy, and its many mullioned windows reflected only emptiness as if they were blind eyes in a bleak face. When she looked about her, Grace’s heart sank. A causeway led across a wind-scoured estuary whose grey-green waters were already sucking at its edge. Soon, the water would swallow the path back to the mainland, which was but a blurry streak of green in the distance.
‘When the tide turns, Marshgrave is cut off twice a day,’ said Rawden, confirming her worst fears.
‘Marshgrave?’
‘Yes, morbidly named for several hapless ancestors who misjudged the tide and so met a grisly end in the mud of the estuary.’
Grace stared out at the frigid waters, slowly swallowing the path they had just travelled, and shuddered.
‘This is my father’s house,’ continued Rawden. ‘It squats on this island like a hermit, eschewing the world. We have vast tracts of land back on the mainland and several more genteel homes, but my father did not much care for the company of others, so this house and its solitude suited his character.’
‘Yours too,’thought Grace, but she was too wary to say it aloud.
‘Even at full tide, the island is quite large – a mile round about and with some excellent woods for walks. It can be pleasant on a sunny day, and the view quite breathtaking.’
Grace swallowed hard as a brisk wind tore at her hair. ‘Is this a prison, Rawden?’
‘It doesn’t have to be. Now let us get you out of this wind,’ he said, taking her hand and guiding Grace up the steps.
A portly middle-aged woman opened the door and rushed out, wiping her hands on a stained apron. ‘Lord Voss, welcome home,’ she said, bobbing a curtsey. ‘We did not expect you.’
‘My journey here was spontaneous.’
‘I see. If we had known, we would have ordered appropriate provisions for your comfort.’
‘No matter, Mrs. Percy. My appetites are simple, as are those of my wife. May I introduce Grace, the new Lady Voss. She is your mistress now, and you will defer to her in all things.’
‘Yes, of course. Welcome, Lady Voss.’
‘Mrs Percy is the housekeeper at Marshgrave,’ said Rawden to Grace.
The woman’s eyes widened at Grace’s attire, and Grace could not meet her gaze, for she must surely look dishevelled after her long carriage journey.
‘Won’t you please come in, out of the wind? It can scour your bones clean sometimes,’ she said with a kindly smile, and Grace warmed a little to Mrs. Percy.
The house boasted a dark, cavernous hall with a wide staircase leading upwards in an arc. It was grand, but its dark green walls and oak panelling gave it an oppressive, suffocating air, and Grace shivered at the wind blowing in behind them through the open door.
‘Is there a fire, Mrs. Percy?’ said Rawden, rather brusquely, but Mrs. Percy seemed unoffended by his manner.
‘Your father’s…erm…your study has a roaring one and will be warmest,’ said the housekeeper. ‘The weather has been most inclement of late now the season is turning,’ she babbled. ‘Sometimes we have been cut off for days.’
Grace caught Rawden’s eye, and he looked away, steering her into a small, cosy study that boasted a roaring fire. She rushed up to it to warm her hands as the housekeeper took her leave.
‘I will prepare some refreshments,’ said the woman. ‘Hot tea will be needed, I am sure.’
‘Yes, thank you,’ said Rawden.
