Free The Secret of Willow Castle - A Historical Gothic Romance Novel by Nathaniel Burns

and extorted from Sir Montague a promise that we would attend that evening’s ball. I breathed a sigh of relief that Mama had insisted on my having that forest green silk gown that set off my eyes so, and when I appeared in the ballroom Lady Cynthia and her friends cooed over my fashionable attire.
    I was much in demand that evening. Apparently the Chastains were known for their reclusive ways, tending to stay shut up in Willow Castle much of the time, seldom venturing further than Castleton, so an opportunity to dance with the new Lady Chastain was one to be seized while it presented itself. Soon my feet ached and the faces of my many dance partners blurred into one. I did not have a single dance with my husband. Sir Montague preferred the company of the other gentlemen in the smoking room, so he was not there for me to consult when Lady Cynthia declared that I should join a party making an expedition to a local landmark named Poole’s Cavern the following day. Giddy with too much dancing, perhaps a little too much punch and with my social success, I gave my word that I would attend and that I would let Lady Cynthia give me the name of her dressmaker and arrange all manner of further introductions next time Sir Montague and I were in town.
     
     

 
    6 Poole's Cavern
    “ Yoo-hoo! Lady Rebecca!”
    Lady Cynthia’s trilling voice sliced through the hubbub of the Old Hall Hotel’s lobby. I glanced round to see her waving furiously from an open-topped landau outside, her pink frills and blonde ringlets bouncing as she flailed her arm. I hurried out to join her, allowing her footman to help me up the steps into the carriage. There were two other ladies whom I had met the previous day, clad in equally frou-frou gowns and wielding pastel parasols to guard them from the feeble April sun. I reached into the depths of my memory for their names.
    “Lady Frith, Miss Fairfax,” I greeted them.
    “ Have you not brought your charming husband with you?” Cynthia pouted. I admitted that I had not. Sir Montague had refused to attend, saying that he could imagine nothing more excruciating than traipsing round some dripping cave with a gaggle of silly women. He had, however, congratulated me on finding a way to amuse myself and ingratiate myself with the local ladies while he did as he pleased elsewhere. Of course I did not tell Lady Cynthia this, saying instead that he had business to attend to and sent his most sincere apologies.
    “ Ah well, no matter,” she said, in a tone of voice which made it clear that it mattered very much indeed. Then she replaced the pout with her usual bright smile and chattered on. “Well, we shall be a merry party anyway. Lady Frith and Miss Fairfax you already know, and when we arrive at Poole’s Cavern I shall introduce you to Mr and Mrs Marsden, who are travelling in their own Tilbury and will meet us there. You simply must know them. They are the most delightful people, Lady Rebecca!”
    *
    Fortunately it was only a short ride to Poole’s Cavern, which lay just beyond the outskirts of the small town. I hardly realised that we were there – when the carriage pulled up I wondered why we were stopping when there was nothing to be seen but hillside. Then as I looked a little harder, I saw what looked like a small, dark crack in the lush green grass and a stooped gentleman emerging. Lady Cynthia squealed as she caught sight of him walking towards the landau.
    “ Welcome, my ladies!” The old gentleman bowed to us as we all climbed out. “Pray allow me to introduce myself. I am Marshall Naismith and I have been engaged as your guide to this mysterious place.”
    I gazed at him in curiosity. He was a sweet-faced gentleman with eyes that sparked with mischief set deep in his wrinkled face. They reminded me a little of Mervyn’s. His beard was long and well-combed, and he leaned heavily on a study stick to help him walk. I found myself wondering what secrets might be kept by this intriguing old man