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As she brushed out her hair after
dressing for lunch, Laura paused at the window. "I wonder
what that is?" she said.
Remington joined her, fastening his shirt cuffs. "Looks like
part of an old castle," he said. "The tower, anyway."
Laura studied the scene. There was a small hill between the Manor
and the square stone building about a quarter of a mile away.
"Looks interesting. I'll have to ask Margaret about it at
lunch."
Remington kissed her hair. "We'll go exploring tomorrow morning,"
he promised.
"I thought maybe we could go riding tomorrow morning,"
Laura said.
"I suppose we could," he said. "I'd planned to
visit the home farms we could do it on horseback," he decided.
"Rather like the Lord and Lady of the Manor." He grinned
as the idea gained appeal. "Yes. I think we'll do just that,"
he decided. "I'm glad you thought of it. Might even talk
Cook into making us a picnic lunch if the weather holds,"
he said, eyeing the unusually clear sky. "Make a day of it."
**********
John remained upstairs with Bridget, who was still under medication,
so Laura and Remington found themselves sharing the long dining
table with Margaret, Sheila, and Quinn. The meal started off badly
as Quinn moved to the head of the table out of habit, only to
find Remington there as well. They stood there, eyeing each other
in silent battle before Quinn moved to sit beside Sheila.
Remington sat, shaking out his napkin, which seemed to be the
signal for the meal to be served. "Aunt, Laura noticed a
stone tower from our bedroom window earlier," he began.
"Yes," Laura said. "It looks interesting. Was there
a castle on the property at one time?"
Margaret nodded. "Yes. Castle Cleary," she said. "And
I wouldn't go there, if I were you. It's far too dangerous."
"Castle Cleary," Laura repeated. "Bridget said
something earlier about the curse of Castle Cleary," she
recalled.
"Silly superstition," Quinn muttered dismissively. "Nonsense,
if you ask me."
"No one IS asking you, Quinn," Margaret reminded him.
"The tower is all that's left of the castle, Laura,"
she said.
"What happened to it?"
"Most of it was used to build the Manor," Sheila said.
"By the first Lord Crayston. He considered it a punishment
for the former owner of the castle's son having stolen his youngest
child a daughter away."
"As usual," Quinn said, "you didn't tell it right,
Sheila."
Remington frowned. "Aunt?"
"Cleary Castle had been here for centuries. The Cleary family
had controlled most of the area for that time. Padraic Cleary
fell into disfavor with the King, and his lands were given over
to Sean Harrison, the first Lord Crayston. When Sean and his family
arrived, they found that Cleary had fortified the castle and was
determined not to lose his ancestral home to people he considered
interlopers. The only other suitable building on the property
was a gate keepers cottage and it's there that Sean and his wife
and four children set up housekeeping.
"Sean had two sons and two daughters, but it was the youngest
child who held his heart. Maeve was barely sixteen when her family
moved here- and met the only child of Padraic Cleary, Ian. The
two of them fell in love, and met in secret for almost a year
before Sean found out. He ordered Maeve to stay away from Ian,
but they eloped." Laura saw Remington's face, knowing that
he was thinking about the similarities between Maeve and Ian's
story and that of his own parents. "When they returned, Sean
ordered some of his servants to attack Ian- and they killed him.
Sean insisted that he hadn't meant for that to happen, only that
Ian be taught a lesson. But what was done was done. And for naught.
Maeve refused to leave the castle to rejoin her family -she insisted
that her place was with her husband's father. Her place- and that
of the child she carried. She died in childbirth, and Sean declared
that he would raise his grandson. He wanted Padraic to give the
child up. Padraic refused, of course, and Sean ordered the castle
stormed."
"His grandson could have been killed," Laura commented.
"Sean was beyond reason by this point. They say that he'd
been driven mad with grief over Maeve's death. Padriac was cornered
in the tower of the castle, and he took great pleasure in telling
Sean that the child was no longer there- that he had been spirited
off to relatives in another county and would never return again.
Sean ran Padraic through with his sword when the man refused to
tell him anything more. With his dying breath, Padraic placed
a curse on Sean, saying that his family would never be whole again
until the day his grandson returned to claim Cleary Castle as
his own."
There was silence in the room as Laura digested the story. "Did
he try to find the baby?"
"He had no way of knowing where Padraic had sent the child,"
Margaret said sadly. "But within the week, Sean ordered the
castle dissembled and used the stones from the main building to
begin Crayston Manor. They got to the tower, and the workers refused
to go inside, saying that Padraic's ghost haunted it. Sean didn't
believe them when they told him they'd heard noises inside, and
went in to prove that they were simply superstitious fools."
"What happened?" Remington asked, frowning.
"No one knows for sure. The workers insisted that Padraic's
ghost frightened him to death. Others said that his heart had
simply stopped. But they say that the look on his face was one
of sheer terror. No one would go near the tower for many years.
His sons left it as a reminder of their lost nephew, the lost
part of their family. Now, it's fallen into disrepair. No one
goes there. The flooring is rotten, the stones are crumbling.
It's dangerous."
Laura knew she was being warned again to stay away from the tower.
"I understand, Aunt Margaret. It's a very sad story."
"Mostly legend," Quinn muttered. "And like most,
filled with exaggerations."
"Do you believe in the curse, Aunt Margaret?" Laura
questioned.
"I don't normally put stock in such things," Margaret
said. "But when you consider that within a month of Sean's
death, his wife and other daughter died of a fever, as well as
the wife of the eldest son, and that the sons began to fight between
themselves-. The younger son was found dead one day, and it was
never proven that his brother was responsible, but within a year,
he had married his brother's widow."
Laura and Remington exchanged glances as they heard the story,
but before either could speak, there was a knock on the front
door, and Callahan entered the dining room a moment later. "Begging
your pardon, your Lordship, but Mr. O'Herlihy is here. He asked
me to tell you that he'll be waiting in the study."
"Thank you, Callahan," Remington said, glancing at Laura.
"He must have the papers," he told her.
Laura nodded, watching him closely. "Are you ready?"
He smiled and rose, pulling Laura and Margaret's chairs out for
them. "As I'll ever be," he said.
"Good luck, cousin," Quinn muttered darkly, lifting
his nearly empty glass in salute. "You're going to be needing
all you can get."
"Then it's a good think I'm a lucky person, isn't it, Quinn?"
Remington returned, offering an arm to Laura and Margaret. "Let's
not keep Mr. O'Herlihy waiting, ladies."
Once they were gone, Quinn drained his glass, then hurled it into
the fireplace. "Let's just hope your luck doesn't run out,
your Lordship," he said.
Sheila rose without a word and left the room.
**********
Margaret and Laura watched as Remington signed the paperwork necessary
for him to take full possession of his grandfather's estate. "The
investiture will take place tomorrow afternoon," Patrick
informed him. "If that's acceptable to his Lordship."
"That will be fine," Remington assured the solicitor,
thinking that his tour of the farms would have to be put off a
day.
"Of course, it's only a formality. These papers give you
all the authority necessary for you to run the estate and use
the title." He inspected the papers again, then placed them
in his case. "I have to get back to Dublin," he said.
"Surely you'll stay to dinner," Remington insisted.
"After all, we have to celebrate."
"Bridget might even be ready to come down and join us by
then," Laura said.
Patrick frowned. "Is Miss O'Riley ill again?" he asked
Margaret.
"I'm afraid so," Margaret said. "She's taking Mary's
death hard."
"Mary? The young Flanagan girl? She was here this morning,
wasn't she?"
"There was an accident on the stairs," Margaret informed
him. Patrick seemed to pale even more. "Tragic. She and Bridget
were so close."
"You'll let me know if there's anyway that I can be of service,
I hope?"
"You know I will," Margaret assured him.
"Now, I must be off. Until tomorrow, your Lordship."
Remington nodded, his eyes on Margaret. "Aunt, I think it
might be a prudent idea to have Bridget seen by another doctor."
"She's been seen by some of the best doctors in both Ireland
AND England, Harry," Margaret reminded him. "They couldn't
find anything physically wrong."
"Because her problem isn't physical."
"You'll have to take this matter up with her brother. John
makes these decisions, and I can tell you now, he won't agree."
"We'll see, Aunt. We'll see." He looked at Laura, and
held out his hand. "Laura and I are going for a walk Oh,
and, Aunt, I'd like to see the account ledgers before dinner this
evening."
Margaret nodded. "I'll see that they're put on the desk,
Harry," she said.
Laura looked up at him. "I'm going to get a sweater,"
she told him.
"And I'm going to see how Bridget's doing while you do."
He climbed the stairs at her side, and they parted at the top,
Laura going to their suite, Remington to Bridget's room.
John rose from the chair near the bed when he opened the door.
"Remington."
"Don't get up," he said, his eyes on the woman in the
bed. "How is she?"
"She woke a few moments ago. But when I told her about Mary,
she became upset again and I had to give her another dose of medicine."
Remington looked thoughtful. "Have you taken her to see a
psychiatrist, John?"
"No. Why?"
"I think it's something that needs considering," Remington
suggested. "Just think about it, okay? Laura and I are going
for a walk."
**********
Laura met him on the landing, where he held her sweater for her.
"How is she?"
"Sleeping."
"What do you expect to find in those ledgers?" Laura
asked as they left the house and headed toward the side of the
house.
"I've no idea. Mildred's the expert. I'm sorely tempted to
send for her."
She looked at him, surprised. "Our first chance to spend
some time without her looking over our shoulder and you want to
SEND for her?"
"Just to look over the estate books," he told her. "If
anyone can ferret out any improprieties, it's our Mildred."
"You're really concerned, aren't you? What Quinn said got
to you."
"I'd just feel better if I knew for sure, Laura, that I was
making the right decision." They moved toward the stables,
seeing the top of the deserted castle tower just over the hill.
"Then we'll call her when we go back inside," Laura
decided. "And have her come over for a few days. Just to
ease your mind," she said.
Remington smiled down at her. "You're being entirely too
nice to me lately," he mused. "I have to wonder why.
I mean, we haven't even had a good argument in at least a week."
"Maybe I don't want to argue anymore," Laura told him
as they entered the stables.
"Oh, but, Laura. It wasn't the arguing. It's the making up
after that makes it all worthwhile," he said with a lecherous
grin. He pulled her into an empty stall and lowered his lips to
hers.
"Oh, excuse me, your Lordship," a voice interrupted.
"I didn't know it was yourself. Thought it was a couple o'kids
from the farms sneaking in here to . . ."
Remington sighed and turned around to face the groom. "Uh,
Robby, isn't it?"
"That it is, sir. That it is. Would you and the lady be wantin'
to go for a ride?"
"Uh, not at the moment, Robby. But we WILL be needing a couple
of horses tomorrow morning."
"I'll have them ready, your Lordship," he assured Remington.
"A couple of nice, gentle mounts, if you please, Robby. Haven't
had much of a chance to ride lately."
Robby grinned. "Well, I'll be getting back to my work now."
Laura laughed softly, causing Remington to look at her. "What's
so amusing?"
"Your expression every time one of the servants comes up.
Like you're expecting bad news."
"Well, after our experience at Ashford, can you blame me?
Those people had more hands out than I've ever seen in my life."
He put an arm around her. "Shall we continue our walk, Lady
Steele?"
As they came from the stable, Laura saw someone running toward
the hill. "I thought you said that Bridget was asleep?"
"She is," Remington said, inspecting a rock fence that
needed some mending.
Laura pointed toward the hill. "Then why is she out here,
running toward the tower?"
"Toward the-?" he began, then saw the flash of red curls
as the woman vanished over the hill. "Come on, Laura,"
he said, breaking into a run. "It's time we found out what's
going on around here."
To Be Continued . . .