Castle of Secrets Read Free

second
time, she thought she saw the hem of a gown pulling back into the shadows, but
when she turned round and lifted her candle high, there was no one there.
    Unnerved by
the incident, she ran down the rest of the steps, but at the bottom she was
forced to stop, because she was not sure which way to turn. She peered ahead
into the gloom. In the distance, to her left, she saw what appeared to be the
top of another flight of steps. She went over to them and descended once more,
lifting her skirt in one hand and treading carefully, for the stone was smooth
and slippery. She emerged in another corridor, and the smell of damp that had
pervaded the stairwell was replaced by the smell of baking coming from a door
in front of her. The warm, inviting scent put new heart into her, and as she
opened the door she felt her spirits rise.
    The kitchen
was clean and well cared for. The table was scrubbed, the floor was gleaming,
and copper pots and pans glowed red in the firelight.
    Mrs Beal
knows her business , Helena thought. Her eyes ran over a large woman of ample girth, who was standing at
the kitchen table. She was wearing a clean dress protected by a floury apron;
her sleeves were rolled up to her elbows, and she was busy kneading some
pastry.
    ‘Well,’ said
Mrs Beal, looking up, ‘so you’re here at last! I’ve set the kettle over the
fire. I knew you’d be cold.’
    ‘How did you
know I’d arrived?’ asked Helena .
    ‘Effie saw
you,’ she said, glancing at the scullery maid who was peeling potatoes in the
corner.
    She spoke
cheerfully, and Helena felt that here, at last, was someone who might be able and willing to help her
discover what had become of her aunt.
    ‘You’ll be
wanting something to eat,’ went on Mrs Beal, knocking her hands together to
remove the flour before wiping them on her apron. ‘Leave those, Effie, and set
the cups out on the table,’ she said.
    Effie did as
she was instructed, and the cook said: ‘I’m Mrs Beal. I’m pleased you’re here.
We’ve been without a housekeeper for far too long. A place like this quickly
gets disordered when there’s no one to see to it. The pie’ll be out of the oven
in a few minutes and it’ll do you good.  You’ve had a long journey, I suppose?’
    ‘Yes, I’ve
been travelling all day.’
    ‘And you’ll
have walked from the stage. It’s a fair step, especially in the winter, with
the wind whipping across the moor and the ground hard underfoot. You’re lucky
it didn’t snow.’
    Helena shivered, and Mrs Beale
looked at her critically.
    ‘You’re even
colder than I thought,’ she said. ‘Never mind tea, you’d better have some
mulled wine. There’s nothing like a mug of mulled wine to put new heart into
you.’
    She took a
pitcher from the dresser and put it on the table, where the scents of cinnamon,
cloves and nutmeg soon mingled with the scent of the wine. Taking the poker
from its place by the fire, she plunged it into the wine and then poured the
steaming drink into a mug. Helena took it gratefully, cupping her hands round it and feeling
it warming her fingers. She took a sip, and felt the aromatic drink beginning
to revive her.
    As she began
to relax, she wondered if she should take Mrs Beal into her confidence, and
reveal that she was Mrs Carlisle’s niece, but then she decided against it, for
Mrs Beal might feel obliged to tell Lord Torkrow.
    ‘It seems a
strange household,’ said Helena , as she watched Mrs Beal work. ‘Lord Torkrow took me up in
his carriage and then, when we arrived at the castle, he opened the door
himself. He led me upstairs and told me where to find my room, and he means to
instruct me in my duties myself. Has it always been this way?’
    ‘There’s
usually a footman to open the door, but today’s his afternoon off. We used to
have a couple of maids, but they left soon after Mrs Carlisle had gone. They
didn’t like to be upstairs without a housekeeper.’
    ‘Oh? Why not?’
asked Helena