Trondelaine Castle (2 page)

Resolutely, Wendy turned and stared out the
window. They passed a number of farms, but no
villages. Then the bus was driving up a long, winding,
poorly paved road. And Wendy had her first sight of
the castle. It rose ponderously, a massive structure with
the oddness of a building that has seen many
alterations.

At one end, about a hundred yards past the castle,
stood one of the ruins the guide had mentioned. It was
an ancient tower, now roofless, with gaping holes. The
bus came to a halt at the opposite end of the castle and
everyone tumbled out, hurried by the guide. At the
steps of the castle, on a terrace, a man stood waiting.
From the bus, Wendy could not be certain, but it
seemed he smiled sardonically.

Wendy paused to glance around. A well-trimmed
lawn surrounded at least two sides of the castle.
Farther on, however, trees grew in abundance, some of
them very old and tall. From somewhere came the
scent of roses, and Wendy guessed there must be a garden. She was still looking about when the guide’s
voice called, “Come, come, Miss! We haven’t all day,
you know!”

Wendy flushed as she realized he meant her. She ran
up to the group on the terrace. The man waiting by the
steps glared at her and, unconsciously, she tilted up her
chin in defiance. The guide began his explanation, first
repeating most of what he had said on the bus. As she
listened, Wendy stared at the other man.

He was about thirty and had dark brown hair and
light-colored eyes. His entire expression was one of
boredom. He dressed with a casual elegance that
marked him as wealthy. There could be no question:
this was Lord Pellen. Wendy felt a vague surprise that
he was not older. Oh, well, it was none of her affair.

She concentrated on the guide, who was saying,
“Notice that the castle is built of stone, not brick, as
Hampton Court was. That is because the castle was
built from the stone of the previous castle that stood on
this spot. That is also the reason the castle is shaped in
the form of a U, and not a rectangle with an inner court,
like most of the castles of its day. There simply were not
enough stones.

“You may wonder why the tower and other ruins
were not torn down for their materials. The answer is
that there was said to be a curse on these ruins, and that
each member of the family that tore them down would
die a horrible death. The first Lord Pellen decided not
to test the curse. Now, as we enter the castle, it will be
into the Great Hall. You will notice the huge fireplaces
at each end.”

The guide turned and led the way. Even now, in the
middle of summer, the Great Hall was very cool. It was
furnished very differently than it must have been
originally. There were thick carpets on the floor, but no tapestries on the walls. Light, airy curtains instead of
heavy draperies guarded the windows made of heavy,
leaded glass. Here and there, tapestry-covered chairs
stood against the wall. Between these chairs were
glass-fronted cabinets holding daggers and pistols and
swords. The guide led them quickly past the cabinets,
describing the contents of each very briefly.

He also called attention to the plastered walls and
painted ceilings. Lord Pellen moved ahead of the group
without seeming to be aware of its presence. At one end
of the hall, a grand stairway swept upward. But to
Wendy’s disappointment, Lord Pellen led them to a
door at the opposite end of the hall.

This door opened onto a hallway. “When the castle
was first built,” the guide said, “hallways did not exist,
as such. Rooms simply opened into each other. All of
the hallways in this castle were added by the eleventh
Earl of Loftsbury around the beginning of the
nineteenth century. Now, the first room we come to on
the left is the dining hall. The second will be the billiard
room.

“The furnishings are typically Victorian and were
chosen by the wife of the fifteenth Earl. On the right
side of the hallway are the more interesting rooms.
These are the four sitting and drawing rooms, each
furnished from a different period. Each of these rooms
is associated with either a king or a prince who used the
room while a guest at Trondelaine, and the furnishings
reflect this.”

There was barely time to look at each room before
they were being urged forward by the guide. The
different furnishings interested Wendy. And she was
the last to join the group standing at the base of the
stairway at the end of the hallway.

The guide, who stood on the first step of this impressive staircase, was saying, “On my right is the
guest wing, which we will not visit. It also contains the
music room, but as that has been recently refurnished
in a modern style, it is of no interest to us. On my left is
the library. It is of no historical interest and we will now
proceed upstairs.

“At the top of the stairs, to your right, will be the
master bedrooms, which we will not see. These were
traditionally put at the disposal of visiting royalty.
Facing the stairs, you will note a sturdy seat set against
the wall. In former times, lackeys would do nothing but
sit there waiting for a guest or member of the family to
give them orders.

“Tradition has it that the practice of having such
lackeys in attendance ended here at Trondelaine after it
was discovered that one of the lackeys was performing
the task of delivering messages a little too well, and an
elopement resulted.”

He paused for a moment, to permit laughter, then
continued. “On the left, along the hallway, is a series of
guest rooms, which we will not visit. We will proceed
directly to the gallery, or Long Room, which is on the
right, just past a large linen closet. Come along!”

Everyone mounted the stairs, Lord Pellen in
advance, as usual. The Long Room held portraits.
Every Lord (and Lady) Pellen seemed to be represented, except the present Earl. There were also
paintings of various sons and daughters. Every window
had a soft window seat and Wendy wondered whether
any courtships had taken place in this room. It seemed
unlikely with so many ancestors looking on.

Soon, the guide was calling them across the hall to
the tapestry room. “Most of the castle’s tapestries are
now to be found in museums,” he explained. “In this
chamber are preserved the best of the family tapestries. Temperature and humidity are carefully controlled.
Please do not touch! Good. Next we go to the weaving
room.”

Noisily, everyone followed directions with Lord
Pellen remaining silent. Some time later, as everyone
clustered around the base of the stairs again, the guide
said, “For those of you who need it, you will find a
W.C. under the staircase. I’ll wait for you. Those who
aren’t in need will proceed with Lord Pellen to the
garden. We all meet at the bus at nine p.m. sharp!”

Wendy was one of those who followed Lord Pellen
through the Great Hall to the dining room and out the
door. The garden was full of all varieties of flowers, but
predominantly roses.

“The old well,” Lord Pellen said curtly, pointing to a
structure in the center of the garden, “still supplies the
castle water, but now with an electric pump. Out past
the east wing is the castle chapel. It is locked at the
moment.”

He seemed to consider that sufficient explanation
for all possible questions. Wendy, like the others,
began to wander. She decided to look at the chapel, if
only from the outside. She was delighted to discover
that it was an octagonal building with stained-glass
windows. As Lord Pellen had said, it was locked. She
turned and saw the ruined tower she had noted from
the bus. Recklessly, she ran toward it.

Wendy was about fifteen feet away when she noticed
five children watching her from a gaping hole in the
tower wall. One of them waved and, automatically,
Wendy waved also. The heads disappeared and,
curious, Wendy moved closer. She reached the base of
the tower and stood looking up at the stairs. They
circled upward, into darkness, crumbling and cracked.
Suddenly, one of the children screamed. Instinctively, Wendy mounted the stairs as quickly as she could.

“I’m coming!” she called.

Then it happened. Her foot slipped and she slid
down, several feet, and landed, her foot twisted under
her. Footsteps from above clattered down toward her,
overlaid by anxious children’s voices. They stopped as
they saw her.

“Cor!” the biggest boy exclaimed. “It was you
screamed just now!”

Had she? Wendy’s head was swimming and she
couldn’t be sure. One of the little girls said, “We didn’t
mean no harm. It was a joke, Billy yellin’.”

“C’mon!” the first boy said. “We got to get out of
here. They’ll have heard ‘er. Anyone catches us here
we’re in for a beating.”

He started forward, followed by the others. The pain
of her foot blocked all other thoughts from Wendy’s
mind. As the children eased past her, one of them
whispered, “Not to worry, the master’ll be here any
minute.”

Wendy closed her eyes against the pain. Then she
realized she was alone and panic gripped her. “Help!
I’m in the tower!” she began shouting.

After what seemed an eternity, an angry voice came
floating up to her. “Who is up there? Come down!”

“Wendy Pratt. I’m with the tour. And I can’t come
down. I’ve hurt my foot.”

She heard the voice swearing. Another joined it.
Wendy recognized the guide. The two voices conversed
for several moments, but Wendy did not even try to
follow what they were saying. She was crying now.
Other voices also became audible. Apparently the
entire tour was grouping itself around the tower.

Finally, she heard footsteps come up the stairs,
cautiously. Hastily, Wendy wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. The first face she saw was Lord
Pellen’s, the mouth set in a hard line. Close behind him
was the tour guide.

As soon as he saw her, he began complaining, “You!
I might have guessed! I told you no one was to go near
these bloody ruins. Now what are we supposed to do
with you?”

Lord Pellen interrupted, “What’s wrong?”

“My foot-or the ankle-it hurts!”

Lord Pellen reached out and felt the ankle gently.
Wendy winced. He turned and faced the guide. “We’ll
have to get her down somehow. I can’t be sure, but the
ankle may be sprained or broken.”

The guide shot a look of pure hate at Wendy. “We’re
late as it is! I can’t wait around here until some doctor
comes. We’re due at the inn at ten, and they won’t hold
supper long. And what’s she going to do on the tour
with a busted ankle?”

Lord Pellen interrupted again. “First, we are going
to get her down those stairs. Then I’ll take care of her.
You’ll leave her here at the castle and go on with your
group. If she’s got a valise, you’ll leave it here.”

“All right, your lordship,” the guide said with relief.
Then he turned to Wendy. “Mind you, there’s no
refund! You were warned not to go near these ruins!”

Wearily, Wendy nodded. She didn’t care about the
refund. She just wanted to get out of there. Gripping
the shoulders of the two men, she started down the
stairs between them. Progress was slow because of the
condition of the stairs. But at last they were outside.

“You may take your people and go,” Lord Pellen
said to the guide. “But be sure to leave her bag.”

The guide nodded. Then he turned to the crowd. “All
right, everyone. Come along, now. Back to the bus if
you want your supper tonight. Come on, everyone.”

Obediently, the group members trouped back to the
bus and Wendy was left alone with Lord Pellen. He
spoke curtly. “My servants are calling for the doctor. I
won’t move you any more until he checks you and says
that it’s safe to.”

“I-thank you, Lord Pellen,” Wendy said meekly.
“You’re being very kind about all this.”

Lord Pellen turned to face her, his expression
impossible to read. “Don’t deceive yourself-Miss
Pratt, was it? You will be cared for as is necessary. But
I’m not a fool. I am well aware that it was your
intention to find a way into my castle. You have
succeeded, but do not imagine that will further your
plans.”

Wendy gasped and said stiffly, “I don’t know what
you’re talking about. Nor do I intend to trespass on
your hospitality. Once the doctor has seen me, I’ll be
quite pleased to go and stay at the local inn.”

His laugh was harsh. “Don’t act like a fool. You
know very well there is no inn within an hour’s drive
from here. You have to stay at the castle. And I’m quite
sure you knew that in advance. Let us understand one
another. There are only four possible reasons why you
might be here. One is that you are a journalist. Two is
that you hope to become my mistress or marry me. The
third is that you intend to pretend to be hurt far worse
than you are and sue me. Four is that you are part of a
burglary gang and are here to `case the joint,’ as they
say. You will not succeed.”

As she listened, Wendy grew steadily angrier. “I
suppose hurting my foot was all part of the plot?” she
demanded sarcastically.

His answer astonished her. “Yes. That or some
similar injury. Oh, be honest! You were well warned
not to go near these ruins. And why else would you? Even the children on my estate know better than to
play here.”

“Do they?”

“Yes, Miss Pratt, they do. They’ve been told that if
they are caught playing here, they’ll receive a good
beating. None of them would risk it.”

Wendy stared at him, hesitating. She wanted to
vindicate herself, but she did not want to betray the
children. “I assure you, Lord Pellen, I have no
intention of suing you, robbing you, or interviewing
you. As for pursuing you, I happen to be engaged.”

“Oh?” His eyes were on her left hand. “You wear no
ring.”

Wendy bit her lip, already regretting the lie. She
tried to brazen it out. “The ring is in the jeweler’s shop,
being resized.”