The Rockwood Chronicles

Rockwood Map

The Rockwood Chronicles family tree

Dedication

For Team Dilly at HarperCollins, who have
worked so hard, despite the pandemic,
to bring my books to life.

Chapter One

Rockwood Castle, Devonshire, Winter 1853

It was one of those rare winters when snow had started to fall at the beginning of December. Rosalind could not remember a year when the preparations for Christmas had taken on such a seasonal feeling, but first, and even more important, there was her sister’s upcoming wedding. Looking out of the drawing-room window across the snow-covered rose garden, she scanned the horizon for white sails set against the granite-grey sea, but there was no sign of her husband’s ship returning from one of his interminable business trips abroad. It would be so disappointing if Piers was not at her side when her sister, Patsy, walked down the aisle to marry Alexander.

Rosalind sighed and turned back to the list she had been checking. The arrangements for the wedding were far advanced, with only a few last-minute checks to be made. She laid her pen on the silver inkstand and sat back in her chair, stretching her cramped muscles. The comforting sound of apple wood logs crackling and spitting as the flames roared up the chimney all but drowned out the soughing draught that whistled through the ill-fitting windows of the ancient castle.

Just two short years ago it had been her own wedding that Rosalind had been planning with such meticulous care and excitement. Now it was Patsy’s turn, but she was only eighteen and, in Rosalind’s eyes, still too young for the responsibilities of marriage. Patsy was engaged to Captain Alexander Blanchard of the 46th Regiment of Foot. Rosalind smiled at the thought – they would be sisters and sisters-in-law, too. She turned her head at the sound of the door opening.

‘There you are, Rosie. I knew I’d find you here, poring over yet another list. Surely all the organisation has been attended to now?’ Patricia Carey tossed her blonde curls and subsided onto the damask-covered seat of the nearest chair. ‘I’m exhausted. I’ve been standing like a statue for what seemed like hours while Meggie Brewer stuck pins into me.’

Rosalind laughed. ‘She was only doing her job, Patsy. You wouldn’t want to wear a wedding gown that didn’t fit properly, would you?’

‘No, of course not, but I’m worried. I haven’t had a word from Alex. I don’t even know where he is at present.’

Rosalind rose from the desk where she had been sitting and went over to give her sister a hug. ‘Bridal nerves, Patsy. That’s all it is. I expect I was the same before my wedding, but it was wonderful when it happened.’

‘But you were marrying Piers. He visits that old china clay mine he owns in Cornwall, but he’s never too far away. Alex could have been posted abroad and I wouldn’t know.’

‘Of course you would, silly. He would have sent a message to you one way or another. Besides which, he’s now in the same regiment as Bertie, who is on his way here as we speak, if his last letter is anything to go by. I’m sure you’ll hear from Alex in a day or so.’

‘Bertie had better arrive soon – he’s going to walk me down the aisle. If he doesn’t get home in time I’ll have to ask Walter to take his place. If he can tear himself away from his studies.’

‘Please don’t fret, Patsy. Walter would gladly stand in for Bertie if need be, but Alex and Bertie will probably arrive together.’

Patricia sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I’m being selfish, as usual. You must be worried about Piers, too.’

‘His ship is overdue, but it could be because of the weather and they’ve had to take shelter somewhere en route. I tried to persuade Piers to let Pedrick go in his stead, but Piers said that Pedrick might be a good manager at the clay mine, but he is no use when it comes to making business deals.’

Patsy shrugged. ‘At least Alex doesn’t have to travel the world promoting the china clay industry.’

It was on the tip of Rosalind’s tongue to argue that Piers was a civilian businessman, and his brother risked his life for King and Country on a daily basis, but she thought better of it. Patsy was still her little sister and must be protected from the harsh realities of the world as much as possible, although heaven only knew what she might have to face as an army wife.

Rosalind managed a smile. ‘Let’s not argue. We have enough to do, what with the weather, the wedding and then Christmas. I’m just wondering if Lady Pentelow will decide to stay on and spend the festive season here as well.’

‘I know she’s Alex and Piers’ grandmother, but she still scares me. I don’t blame you for insisting on remaining here after you married Piers. I wouldn’t want to live with her at Trevenor.’

‘It’s her home and she wouldn’t welcome another woman taking over control of her household. We get on well enough, just so long as we’re miles apart.’

‘At least Aurelia will be here,’ Patricia smiled smugly. ‘I’ve beaten her to the altar – would you credit that? She was so sure that Hugo Knighton would propose and then he became engaged to Dorcas Mountjoy.’

‘The Mountjoys are extremely wealthy and well connected. Hugo obviously has his eyes set on marrying an heiress. Perhaps Aurelia has had a lucky escape.’

‘Yes, I shouldn’t be mean. Aurelia is so pretty and vivacious she could have any man she wanted, and I have no fortune to recommend me, so I’m lucky that Alex loves me for myself.’

‘Alex is a very fortunate man.’ Rosalind returned to the small escritoire where she kept her lists and tidied them away. ‘I’ll finish this later. In the meantime I’ll go and check with Hester to make sure we haven’t left anything to chance regarding the food and wine for the wedding breakfast.’

‘If the snow gets any thicker it will prevent the guests from travelling. No one will come and it will be a disaster.’

This was so close to what Rosalind had been thinking that she avoided meeting her sister’s anxious gaze. ‘We won’t worry about that just now, Patsy. Try to imagine how beautiful you will look in your new ivory silk gown with the fur-trimmed cape and bonnet. The whole village will turn out to watch when Gurney drives you to the village church.’

‘I’ll try,’ Patsy said humbly.

‘Good girl. Now I really should get on. I have some last-minute queries I need to discuss with Hester.’

Patsy pulled a face. ‘We all love Hester, but what will the guests think when they find out that the Dowager Lady Carey is still acting as our housekeeper, and she cooks for us if she gets a chance to oust Mrs Jackson from the kitchen?’

‘Grandpapa was known as an eccentric, bless him. He didn’t bother about conventions and I think he really loved her. At least Hester made his last eighteen months on earth the happiest he’d ever known.’

‘I know you’re right, but other people don’t see it that way.’

‘Well, they should. Hester is a good woman and Grandpapa really appreciated her tender care. I still miss him, and I always will.’

Rosalind left the drawing room and made her way to the blue parlour, which Hester had made her own. As their former nanny, housekeeper, cook and confidante, Hester had been part of Rosalind’s life ever since she could remember. It had come as something of a shock when her late grandfather had decided to honour the woman who had kept his family together for so many years, but Rosalind was more than happy with his decision to marry Hester. Bertie, Walter and Patsy had taken a little longer to get used to the idea, but they all loved Hester and had warmly welcomed her into the family.

Rosalind knocked and entered without waiting for a response.

‘The snow is coming down faster,’ Hester said, gazing out of the window. ‘I suppose Patsy is getting herself in a state about everything to do with the wedding.’

‘Yes, of course she is, but can you blame her? I’ve tried to calm her down.’

‘Meggie Brewer managed to get here from Exeter, so the roads must be reasonably clear. We can only hope that it stops snowing soon, and that Captain Blanchard gets here in time.’

Rosalind smiled. ‘Really, Hester! You should call him Alex. He’s asked you to often enough.’

‘I’m still the same woman I was before your grandpapa honoured me with his name. Sometimes I wish I’d been strong enough to refuse and simply lived as his wife without putting the family to the shame of having someone like me with the title.’ Hester rose from her seat and brushed the creases out of her black bombazine gown. She had been wearing deep mourning for the past few months and nothing would induce her to relieve its severity with even a ribbon or a bow. ‘But I did love him in my way, Rosalind. He was a good and brave man.’

Rosalind smiled ruefully. ‘He was courageous, but I don’t think he was always good. Grandpapa was human and he loved life. You made him happy, Hester. That’s all that matters. I just wish that you would stop working and take your proper place in the family.’

‘I started in service when I was ten and I can’t just stop. What would I do all day if I didn’t manage the household and keep the accounts? I don’t trust anyone to do it properly and honestly, and I miss my kitchen. I used to love cooking meals for you all, especially when we were so poor that we had to live off the land. It was a challenge.’

‘Those days are behind us, Hester. Thanks to Piers, we’re comfortably off.’ Rosalind heard a sound outside and she was suddenly alert. She hurried to the window. ‘I wonder who that could be. It looks as if we have guests.’

‘There’s only one way to find out, poppet,’ Hester said, smiling. ‘Perhaps a visitor or two will take Patricia’s mind off her problems.’

‘It depends who it is.’ Rosalind crossed the room and opened the door. ‘But I don’t think it’s Lady Pentelow – she always travels with a whole retinue of servants. I’ll go and meet them. At least it means that the roads are still passable.’

Jarvis, like any good butler, was there before her, and he held the heavy oak door open, standing back as a blast of cold air laden with icy particles of snow hurled itself into the entrance hall. The ancient suit of armour nearest the door rattled ominously as if its former occupant was shivering, but Rosalind was used to the vagaries of the old castle and she automatically snapped the visor shut as she walked past. There was probably a simple explanation as to why the headpiece often looked as though it was smiling at some ancient joke, but when they were children Bertie had insisted that the spirit of Sir Denys Carey lingered on in his suit of armour. Rosalind had been terrified of it then, and even now, in the dim light of the evenings she averted her eyes when she walked past.

‘Who is it, Jarvis? Can you see?’

‘The snow is coming down too fast, ma’am. I can’t make out who it is.’

Rosalind stood behind him, peering into the swirling whiteness. She could just make out the caped figure of the coachman, and a footman leaped down from the box to open the carriage door. Both men were iced with snow as if they were decorations on a Christmas cake, and clouds of snowflakes flew around them as they moved.

The first person to emerge from the carriage was a woman whose face was hidden by a thick veil and she was enveloped in fur. Close behind her a man alighted and took her by the arm to guide her over the slippery cobblestones. Rosalind recognised them instantly and ran forward, forgetting the adverse weather conditions.

‘Mama, Claude, what a lovely surprise.’

‘I was beginning to think we wouldn’t make it,’ Claude said breathlessly. ‘The snow is piling up in drifts in the narrow lanes.’

Felicia Carey stepped into the hall and threw back her veil. ‘I don’t know why you’re surprised, Rosalind. We’re here for your sister’s wedding. Nothing would prevent me from attending.’

‘You didn’t come to mine.’ The words tumbled from Rosalind’s lips before she could stop herself. Patsy had always been their mother’s favourite. She was a younger edition of Felicia, with a mass of golden curls, although her eyes were violet blue, whereas Rosalind had inherited the hazel eyes of their mother and dark blonde hair from their late father, attributes that she shared with her brothers, Bertie and Walter. They were a good-looking family, but Patricia had the power to melt hearts if she fluttered her long eyelashes and would always be the centre of attention. Rosalind had learned at an early age that life was not fair and she loved her sister too much to be jealous. Even so, sometimes Mama’s attitude rankled.

‘That was unfortunate, my dear,’ Claude said smoothly. ‘But we were in Milan – your mama was singing at the world-famous La Scala opera house.’

‘I’m sure you managed perfectly well without me, Rosalind,’ Felicia said coldly. ‘You were always an independent little creature, even as a child, whereas Patsy needs me.’

Rosalind stood aside as the coachman and footman brought in a mountain of luggage.

‘It looks as if you’ve come to stay for a while, Mama.’

‘May we continue this conversation somewhere warmer?’ Felicia slipped off her fur-lined mantle and handed it to Jarvis. ‘A cup of tea would be nice, with a tot of whisky to keep out the cold. I may be resting temporarily, but I have to look after my voice.’

Rosalind nodded. The reason for her mother’s sudden arrival was now perfectly clear. ‘Come into the drawing room. I’ll send for refreshments and have your rooms made ready for you.’

‘We will both share the master bedroom,’ Felicia said firmly. ‘Claude has asked me to marry him and I have accepted. Don’t look so disapproving.’

‘I’m not judging you, Mama. But Piers and I occupy the master bedroom now.’

‘As your father’s widow I take precedence over you, even if you are a married woman. I am the head of the household.’

‘I think you’ll find that the Dowager Lady Carey holds that position, Mama.’

Felicia laughed. ‘Really? You expect me to kowtow to a servant who happened to wheedle her way into a mad old man’s good books?’

‘Hester deserves the respect due to her, Mama. You’ll find that all of us agree on that.’

‘As I recall, your husband was not above breaking the mores of society when it suited him. Where is he, by the way?’

‘Piers should be arriving soon, Mama. He’s been abroad on business.’

‘I’m amazed that he was actually here for your wedding.’ Felicia tossed her head. ‘Don’t look at me like that, Rosalind. I knew Piers Blanchard before you did and he took me in completely with his story about being the heir to the estate. A man who lies so glibly should never be trusted.’

Claude slipped his arm around her shoulders. ‘Don’t upset yourself, my love. Let’s get you into the warmth with the benefit of some sustenance.’ He gave Rosalind an apologetic smile. ‘Your mama is exhausted after the long journey from Paris. We stopped there for a few days in order to visit the fashion houses.’

‘I know my way to the drawing room,’ Felicia said, walking off with her head held high. ‘I lived here for many a long year when I was married to your father, Rosalind.’

Claude smiled apologetically. ‘She doesn’t mean half of what she says.’

Rosalind shook her head. ‘You are too good for her, Claude. I know my mother so well – she says what she really means and the next minute she laughs and tries to pass it off as a joke. I’m past being hurt by her jibes.’ She tucked her hand in the crook of his arm. ‘Let’s get you settled down by the fire and I’ll make sure you have everything you need.’

‘The weather really is closing in. I expect the roads will be impassable by morning.’

‘That doesn’t sound good, but please don’t mention that fact to Patsy – she’s anxious enough as it is. We can only pray for a thaw.’

They reached the drawing room in time to see Patricia leap to her feet and embrace her mother. ‘Mama, you came. I knew you would.’

Felicia gave her a brief hug and then moved away, shaking out the creases in her travelling gown. Clouds of steam rose from her damp skirts as she sank down in a chair close to the fire. ‘I’ll probably catch my death of cold,’ she said peevishly. ‘I’m chilled to the bone and my voice will suffer in this abominable climate. If I had any sense I would live abroad.’

‘No, no,’ Patricia cried passionately. ‘You must take care of yourself, Mama. I want you to be there when Alexander and I are married.’

‘Where is the bridegroom?’ Felicia glanced round the room. ‘I hope he is here because the roads will soon be impassable.’

‘He is on his way, Mama. Alex’s regiment have been in the Eastern Mediterranean. It’s a secret mission and none of us knows the exact details. Bertie is with him.’

‘I always knew that Bertie would do something heroic. But are you sure you’re doing the right thing marrying a soldier, Patsy?’ Felicia folded her arms, shivering. ‘It’s so terribly cold in England and I can feel a draught.’

‘You mustn’t worry about me, Mama.’ Patricia went down on her knees in front of her mother. ‘It’s lovely to have you at home again. You’ll soon get warm.’

Rosalind sighed. ‘I’ll go to the kitchen and make sure a tray of tea is sent up immediately.’

‘Don’t forget the whisky,’ Claude said in a conspiratorial whisper.

‘I won’t.’ Rosalind smiled and hurried from the room. She made her way to the kitchen where she instructed Mrs Jackson to make up a tea tray, including a decanter of whisky. Having given Cook detailed instructions as to how Mrs Carey liked the bread to be thinly cut and lightly buttered, with a preference for potted meat rather than jam, Rosalind was satisfied that she had done all she could to keep her mother happy, at least for the moment. Thanks to Hester’s foresight and years of experience, the beds in all rooms had been aired and made up in anticipation of the arrival of the wedding guests. Rosalind went to find Tilly and sent her to the west tower to light a fire in the room that Felicia and Claude were to share. Tilly scuttled off, eager to please and prove herself worthy of her recent promotion to chambermaid.

Walking slowly, Rosalind struggled to come to terms with her mother’s sudden arrival. It had been a surprise, but then Felicia Carey never did what was expected of her. Rosalind was used to her mother’s capricious temperament and although invitations had been sent, she had not expected her mother and Claude to accept. Felicia’s presence created a problem. She had made it plain from the start that she considered Sir Lucius’s marriage to his former housekeeper little more than an outrage and an insult to the family name. The thought of the two of them eyeing each other up like adversaries for the next three weeks or so was more than Rosalind could bear. She knew she must warn Hester, but how to do so without hurting her feelings was another matter. She found her, as expected, in the blue parlour.

Hester put down the garment she had been mending and folded her hands in her lap. ‘I’m glad your mama is here, if only for Patricia’s sake, so don’t worry about me.’

‘But I do worry,’ Rosalind said earnestly. ‘I don’t want you to be put in an awkward position, Hester. Mama didn’t approve of your marriage to Grand-papa, and I know that nothing will change her mind.’

‘Don’t fret on my account. To be honest I think I agree with Madam Felicia, probably for the first time in my life. She’s right: I don’t belong at table with the rest of the family. I’ll take meals in my room.’

‘No, Hester. That’s not necessary. I don’t want you to be excluded.’

‘What’s the alternative, poppet? I’ve known your mama a very long time and while she’s here I will keep out of her way.’

‘It’s all wrong,’ Rosalind protested angrily. ‘Mama will stay until Claude gets her a new booking and then she’ll be gone again.’

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