shut in, trapped.’ She shuddered as she remembered the drawbridge clanging shut and she pulled her shawl more tightly about her. ‘When the drawbridge was raised behind me, I felt as if I were a prisoner.’
‘The drawbridge is to keep people out, not keep them in,’ he said, putting his hand over her arm reassuringly. ‘We are in a very remote part of the country and there are lots of bandits hereabouts. They would willingly prey on the castle if its defences weren’t secure.’
‘Yes, of course. But it is not just the drawbridge—it is everything. When I looked out of my window this morning, I looked down onto a terrible drop with nothing but jagged rocks below. It is not what I am used to,’ she said apologetically.
‘You are used to rolling meadows and winding rivers in a peaceful part of the world,’ he agreed, ‘but the castle is in a less hospitable country. It was built as a fortress at a time when fortresses were needed. The rocks keep it safe. They make sure that no one can climb up and assault it from behind. I know it can seem forbidding if you are not used to it, but inside the castle you don’t feel afraid?’
‘Not afraid, precisely, but anxious. The windows are small and the castle is gloomy. And the rumours…’
‘Go on.’
‘Oh, they are foolish, of course, but they say in the servant’s hall that the axe falling was a portent of your death and that I will cause it. They say that the same fate befell the Count’s wife. Is it true?’
He hesitated.
‘After a fashion,’ he said. ‘The Count lost his wife, but there was nothing strange about her death. She had been ill for a long time.’
‘And did the axe fall?’
‘Yes, it did, but the castle is very old. Some of the wall fixings had worked themselves loose, that is all.’
‘Of course,’ she said, his calm words filling her with relief. ‘I don’t know why I took any notice of it. It is just the atmosphere here, it is oppressive.’
‘A pity. I hoped you would like it. But we will not be here much longer. The Count should return this evening and we need only stay a few days. I have a hunting lodge in the area, and I would like to visit it as we are so close by, and we must stay a little while longer for politeness’ sake, but by the end of the week, if you are still unhappy, we will go.’
Elizabeth was comforted.
‘Do you really have a hunting lodge here?’ she asked. ‘It’s a long way from Pemberley.’
‘I own hunting lodges throughout Europe, a relic of the old days. I don’t use them anymore, but from time to time, I find a tenant for one or other of them. The Count thinks that one of his friends might like to rent the nearest lodge and so I would like to see if it needs any repairs. Why don’t you come with me? We can go tomorrow, and it will give you some relief from the castle.’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said. ‘I would like that very much.’
‘Very well, I will go and make the arrangements.’
Whilst he went off to the stables, Elizabeth went inside, finding the drawing room after three attempts. She had seen little of it the night before, and she hoped there might be a pianoforte but there was no instrument. She took a turn around the room, examining the portraits which hung on the walls and coming to rest in front of the fireplace. Above it hung a fine portrait of two gentlemen in seventeenth century dress. They were clothed in the fashions of the time, in satin coats and breeches, and they wore dark, curling wigs which fell to their waists.
She looked at them more closely. It was not easy to see them clearly from her low angle but something about them was familiar. She wondered who they reminded her of and then she realised that it was Darcy and the Count.
‘The paintings are very good, do you not think?’ came a voice behind her.
She very nearly jumped.
‘My apologies, I did not mean to startle you,’ said the Count, for it was he.
‘I thought you were visiting neighbours,’ she said.
‘And so I was, but the riding, it is hard with old bones. I would have said to my servants, “Go! Do this errand for me!” but Darcy, he is a valued nephew of mine and I do not like