Free Carisbrooke Abbey by Amanda Grange

believe you mean to lay hands on me —’
    But she broke off as he took another step forwards and she saw that he meant to do exactly that.
    A sudden thought occurred to her. What if there were really danger, and not of the folly collapsing as she had supposed he meant, but of poachers or thieves on the loose?
    ‘If you will give me an explanation of the danger I am in, I will return to the abbey on my own,’ she said more softly.
    ‘I cannot,’ he growled.
    ‘If I’m in danger, I have a right to know.’
    ‘You are not in danger, as long as you return to the abbey at once.’
    ‘Is it poachers?’
    ‘I cannot tell you any more than I have done,’ he rumbled.
    It must be something of the sort, she reasoned, to send him into such a taking, although why he would not tell her was beyond her. However, if there was a chance that there were armed men prowling round the grounds, then she would rather be inside.
    She relented. ‘Very well, I will go in.’
    ‘I will see that you do.’
    He fell into step beside her, his long stride pressing her to go more quickly than she would have liked. Her ankle was hurting, and she was limping badly by the time they reached the door.
    ‘Go in, and don’t venture into the grounds again unless I give you leave,’ he rumbled, before turning on his heel and leaving her.
    Well! she thought, not knowing what to make of the strange encounter. Had there really been any danger, or had Lord Carisbrooke taken leave of his senses? He had certainly been very agitated, but she did not think he would make such a fuss without cause.
    Belatedly she thought of Esmerelda. If there were poachers roaming the grounds then Esmerelda, too, would be in danger. But it was too late to do anything about it now. Besides, Esmerelda was probably already half way back to the rectory.
    Sighing deeply, she went indoors. She could not face the long climb up to her room. Nor did she want to go into the drawing-room, where she suspected she would find Mr Ulverstone. At the moment, she did not want company. But she must do something. After a minute’s reflection, she decided to look for the library. She was curious to see how large it was, and what kind of books it housed.
    Pulling off her gloves, she untied the strings of her bonnet then removed her pelisse and laid it over her arm. She looked about her. Two passages led off from the cavernous hall, one in either direction. One led to the drawing-room, so she decided to follow the other one. She stopped outside the first door leading from it. She hesitated, then went in.
    She found herself in what must have originally been the abbey cloisters. Arched windows lined the far wall, making the most of the daylight. It was a very long room, and housed a pianoforte, a sofa and half a dozen chairs. Other than that it was bare. There were no tapestries on the walls or rugs on the floor. As well as being a music room, it was probably used for exercise on rainy days, she guessed.
    She went out again.
    She ignored the next two doors, knowing they would lead into the cloisters further along its length, and instead opened one further along the corridor. It housed a few battered pieces of furniture and smelled musty.  She tried the next door, and this time found what she was looking for. She went inside.
    The library was an imposing chamber. The ceiling was arched, and the windows were tall and pointed. Huge oak bookshelves lined the centre of the room, and on them was the largest collection of books and manuscripts Hilary had ever seen. They jostled for position, some standing and some lying down, whilst others were stacked in piles with their gleaming spines facing out into the room.
    At the side of the room was a pile of dust sheets. They had evidently been removed in preparation for the arrival of the librarian.
    She turned her attention back to the shelves. She was fascinated. The library was a treasure trove. She began pulling out some of the scrolls. They dated back