Free Belinda Goes to Bath by M. C. Beaton

them as well in the name of Christianity. There are five storeys in the tower: a dungeon, three vaulted chambers, and an upper guard chamber with a store-room underneath.’
    He stood back to let Belinda mount first. Suddenly self-conscious, she dropped the skirt of her gown instead of looping it over her arm to show that one leg.
    She paused on the first landing until he joined her. He pushed open the door. Belinda entered.
    She found herself in a large chamber, vaulted in two bays, and lit on two sides by tall, single-light ogee windows. Two grooms were sitting by the fire and rose at their entrance.
    The marquess waited patiently while Belinda looked quickly around. The remains of breakfast lay on a deal table.
    Then she walked out of the room. The marquess followed her and closed the door behind them.
    ‘I thought you said the rooms were unoccupied,’ whispered Belinda.
    ‘They are,’ said the marquess, surprised. ‘They are only used by the outdoor servants.’
    ‘And are not servants people?’
    ‘My radical Miss Earle, when I said they were no longer used, I meant by either myself or my guests.’
    ‘You are reputed to be a recluse.’
    ‘Not I. Merely fastidious.’
    Belinda climbed up the next flight of stairs. ‘Now this,’ said the marquess, joining her on the landing, ‘is the haunted chamber.’
    He was interested to see Belinda’s reaction. In an age when gothic novels were in vogue, most young ladies, on being shown the tower room, would pretend to have seen the ghost; a few took the opportunity to faint into the marriageable marquess’sarms. The thing about this Miss Earle, thought the marquess, was that although she was by no means beautiful, he found her large eyes and that passionate mouth immensely attractive. And her directness was refreshing. It was not a pity she was Haymarket ware; it was a definite asset as his intentions were rapidly becoming dishonourable.
    Belinda stood in the middle of the room and looked slowly around. This room was not even used by the servants. It was bleak and cold, with the wind howling mournfully in the chimney.
    ‘Was this Miss Dalrymple’s room?’ asked Belinda.
    The marquess nodded.
    There was a small chamber off the main room, a garderobe, a medieval lavatory with a stone seat over a hole, which gave a clear view downwards of the former moat, now drained. She returned to the main room, which had a scrubbed table and two massive carved chairs.
    Perhaps it had not been so grim when the unfortunate governess was in residence, thought Belinda. She would surely have had some of her own possessions about her.
    ‘I did not think they had governesses in medieval times,’ said Belinda.
    The marquess shrugged. He was disappointed in Belinda’s lack of reaction. ‘She was not called a governess. She was merely a female of fairly good birth who was there to educate the very young children. Do you sense her presence?’
    Belinda shook her head. ‘I sense desolation, that is all. What a cruel time to live!’
    ‘I sometimes think no more cruel than our own,’ said the marquess. ‘Look from the window.’
    Belinda looked out. The snow had stopped falling. Far down below, beyond the castle walls and the fields and farms and cottages, was a crossroads. And at that crossroads stood a gibbet with three rotting bodies hanging in the wind.
    She shivered. ‘But that is the justice of the English courts,’ she said, half to herself.
    ‘I envy you your belief in the fairness of English justice,’ he said. ‘One of those hanged was a half-starved youth of sixteen. He stole a sheep. The other two are murderers, and yet he met the same fate. But we become too serious. Would you like to climb to the roof of the tower?’
    Belinda replied reluctantly that she would. She felt she had been discourteous in not admiring this part of the castle enough and was trying to make up for it.
    They climbed higher and higher until they came to a low door that led out on to the roof of