Trondelaine Castle (4 page)

Love,
Wendy

She nodded with satisfaction. That ought to fetch
Kevin. Now she must write her boss and explain that
she might miss a few days of work. Then she would
have to face Lord Pellen and tell him she had no
intention of obeying his orders. Suddenly, she heard a
knock at the door.

Assuming it was a servant, she called, “Come in.”

“Good morning again,” Lord Pellen said. Wendy
whirled to face him, and he continued, “I hope you will
forgive this intrusion. It occurred to me, however, that
there was something I neglected to tell you, in case you
had changed your mind about whatever it was you
came here to do.” His voice was mocking. “Should you
attempt to leave here before I give you permission, I will bring a lawsuit against you for trespassing.”

“But that’s absurd!” Wendy protested. “I don’t think
you could win.”

He smiled. “Perhaps not. But if you really are a
working girl, I suspect you would find the expense of
fighting my suit rather a burden.”

She stared at him bitterly, aware he was right.
Besides, she was not at all sure she would win. After all,
she was basically a foreigner and he was an earl.

Lord Pellen smiled more broadly. “I have already
spoken with your employers. They said to tell you not
to worry. You may have as long as you need to
recuperate. I may have-er-slightly exaggerated the
extent of your injury, but never mind that. If I may be
of further service, please tell me.”

He turned and was gone. Angrily, Wendy hit the
table. Damn him! She did not doubt he would carry
through his threat. And yet, why not stay? She had
always wanted to live in a castle; when else would she
have the chance? And Lord Pellen had already
obtained her boss’s permission for her to stay as long as
necessary.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Wendy was aware of
how badly she needed a few weeks to just think.
Smiling slightly, she mused, It would serve the Earl
right to have to put up with me! And I could always
leave later, if I wanted to. Kevin could come and get
me.

Wendy tore up the letter to Kevin and began
another. When that was written, she wrote her boss
asking if he could send her the material she had been
working on. And, finally, there was a letter to her
landlady, Mrs. Aylses, explaining about her foot and
asking her to allow Kevin to pick up some things.

By the time lunch arrived on a tray, she was addressing the last envelope. With a sigh, she turned
her attention to the food. Lord Pellen had an excellent
cook.

After lunch, faced with nothing to do, Wendy
decided to head for the library. The worst Lord Pellen
could do was order her out. She fastened on her right
sandal, wincing. Then, firmly, she headed toward the
lion’s den. Lord Pellen was not there, however, and
Wendy began looking through some of the shelves.

There were hundreds, perhaps thousands, of books
of all ages and bindings. Some were under lock and
key. Light came from large windows in two of the
walls. A third wall held the big fireplace. The fourth
had bookshelves and the door.

Thick carpets covered the floor, and heavy velvet
curtains hung at the windows. Looking at Lord
Pellen’s desk near the fireplace, Wendy decided it was a
comfortable, if somber, room. She was looking
through a volume of history when Lord Pellen entered.
He stopped short as he saw her.

“I-I thought you might not mind if I read some of
the books from your library,” she stammered.

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Not at all.” The voice
was sarcastic. “Please be at home.”

Wendy flushed and moved toward the door on her
crutches. “I’ll just take this to my room and be out of
your way.”

Lord Pellen blocked her path. “I’m afraid not, my
dear. There is a firm rule that no books are to be taken
out of the library. There are no exceptions, not even for
myself. Please be seated-you will not disturb me,” he
added mockingly.

Wendy moved to a chair. She would not allow
herself to be driven from the library by this man.
Indeed, she would rather enjoy it if she succeeded in driving him from the room. She opened the volume
and began reading. Her concentration was broken only
by the irregular sound of Lord Pellen’s pen. And he was
the first to leave. When he did, Wendy allowed herself a
brief, malicious smile.

Lord Pellen must have informed the servants as to
her whereabouts, for at four o’clock, they brought her
tea in the library. The Earl was nowhere in sight and
Wendy assumed he was avoiding her. She took great
pleasure in that thought. He insisted she stay at the
castle, but she could make that stay as unpleasant as
possible for him. Feeling rather better, Wendy
remained in the library for the rest of the afternoon.
Later, as she started for her room, she encountered one
of the maids in the hall.

“Lord Richard said to inform you dinner will be
served in the dining hall in an hour, Miss. He expects
you in the James Room shortly before that,” the maid
said without a trace of emotion.

“Thank you,” Wendy said automatically.

She was not, however, as calm as she appeared to be.
When she reached her room, she moved anxiously to
the mirror. It was hopeless. Aside from brushing her
hair, there was little she could do to fix herself up. No
doubt, he would be expecting a somewhat smarter
dress for dinner, but she had none with her.
Impatiently she shook her head. Did it really matter?

At precisely ten minutes short of the hour, Wendy
reached the James Room and caught her breath in
dismay. Lord Pellen turned slowly to face her, a glass
of something in his hand. As he took in the details of
her appearance, his face registered the same surprise as
Wendy’s. He was dressed in evening clothes, the jacket
a dark velvet.

His lips pursed in disapproval, he said, “Since you are here, I presume you received my message.
However, in this castle, we dress for dinner.”

Wendy’s temper flared. “Well, I’m very sorry, Lord
Pellen! But I didn’t come prepared for an extended
visit. I only brought one extra outfit, the one I’m
wearing. I only expected to be away two days.”

Lord Pellen smiled ironically. “Oh, of course!
Excuse me. My congratulations on the completeness of
your cover. Very well, for a few nights it won’t matter.
No doubt you have arranged for a few long dresses to
be sent up on Friday?”

Wendy’s mouth fell open and she stammered,
“N-no, I-it never occurred to me I would need them. I
just asked Kevin to send me some practical things.”

Lord Pellen’s mouth set in a hard line. “I see. Or
perhaps you expected me to provide you with a suitable
wardrobe? What a pity we’re so isolated. That makes it
impossible, doesn’t it? No, don’t protest your innocence! Frankly, I don’t care. Never mind. Will you have
some sherry?”

Confused, angry, and still rather dazed, Wendy
nodded. She sat on the couch he indicated and waited.
As Lord Pellen bent over to give Wendy her glass, he
said casually, “It’s quite clever of you not to wear
makeup. It almost makes you seem innocent. I suppose
that’s the idea.”

Wendy glared at him in response. He merely smiled
and she shivered. She was beginning to feel very much
out of her depth.

But then, surprisingly, Lord Pellen turned polite.
“You must forgive my lack of manners. I am not
accustomed to entertaining unknown young ladies.
How are you feeling tonight?”

“Better,” she answered warily.

At that moment, a manservant came to announce that dinner was ready. Wendy fancied she could read
disapproval of her in the servant’s eyes as they rested on
her. Lord Pellen stood aside to let her go first.

“I would offer you my arm,” he said. “However, I
believe that would be rather impractical.”

Wendy tilted her chin and concentrated on her
crutches. Another servant stood ready to take them
once she was seated. The table was lighted only by
candles, and Wendy felt once again the absurdity of her
position. She also thought Lord Pellen a little eccentric
to insist on her company if he had such suspicions of
her.

The Earl, too, was preoccupied as he sat watching
her. She did not know it, but he was at the end of his
patience with all of the women who had tried to obtain
money from him, one way or another, or to marry him.
He felt sure Wendy was another of these. And he would
make an example of her. Ideally, he would trap her
attempting something illegal. At the very least, she
would find her visit rather humiliating.

In the candlelight he smiled. “Tell me about
yourself,” he said with apparent good humor, “and
about your family.”

Still wary, she said, “My father is a college
professor-history. He met my mother when he spent
two years at a college here in England. In fact, I was
born before they left for the States. He taught at one or
two places in the East, then got tenure at Berkeley. So I
grew up mostly in California. When I was ten years old,
my mother died, leaving just me and Father. He’s very
brilliant, and I love him, but my mother was more fun.

“I guess I’ve always been something of a loner. I had
friends, but there was a part of me most of them never
saw. I was somewhat happier in college-the Univer sity of Pennsylvania. I majored in Russian literature
and minored in Spanish, with lots of other courses to
balance things off. When I graduated, I decided to
come to England.

“We hadn’t been able to visit when I was growing up,
you see, and later my father wouldn’t. So I came by
myself. Since I had dual citizenship, there were no
problems about getting a job. I’ve been translating for a
year now. And about four months ago, I met Kevin.”

“Tell me about him.”

“Well, he’s two years older than me-twenty-five-tall, handsome in a rugged sort of way. He has dark
hair and brown eyes. He’s intelligent, of course, and
works at the publishing company. We have lots of the
same interests: horseback riding, swimming, history,
theater, and music.”

“But not castles?” Lord Pellen suggested softly.

“No,” Wendy said regretfully, “not castles. Though
he would have come with me if I had really begged him
to.”

“I see,” was the reply.

The silence made Wendy uneasy. “What about
you?” she asked. “Tell me about yourself.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Really! Didn’t you even
read my official biography? Very careless of you. Or
clever. Very well. I was born thirty-one years ago in this
very castle. My parents were a bit old to have children,
and I was the only one. Like most of the Lord Pellens,
my father married late. Then came the war and he was
an officer, so they had to wait until the war was over
before they had me.

“In a way, it was fortunate. The family fortune had
been lost during the Depression, and money was
difficult to obtain until after the war. You see, my father had a talent for making money, and during the
war, his business agent was directed to invest in arms
production. After the war, it was real estate. So you can
imagine how the family fortunes flourished.

“And I? I was named after a Lord Richard Pellen
whose only distinction was to have the good grace to
die without heirs so that the title and land passed to a
nephew in the money-making side of the family. The
family has been in trade ever since, despite the sneers of
more genteel lords. Now it’s our turn to sneer, seeing so
many of them without money.

“But, to continue, I was sent to Eton at the usual age,
and later to Cambridge, where I majored in economics.
Then, upon my graduation, I was instructed in family
business matters by my father. Most of my time,
however, was spent enjoying myself. It still is.

“Two years ago, my parents were killed in an
automobile crash near here. I, of course, inherited.
Ever since then I’ve been plagued by females who
would like to be Lady Pellen, and who would like to
help me spend my money. One of the first things I did
was to throw this tomb open to the public on Friday
evenings in summer. Someone might as well get some
pleasure from the place. I don’t!”

Wendy listened quietly. Despite his mocking tone,
Lord Pellen seemed far more human than before. In
the softness of the candlelight, she might almost have
been tempted to tell him that some women might have
wanted him for himself and not for his wealth.

She did say, “Well, you needn’t be suspicious of me.
In the States, we find titles less impressive.”

Pellen laughed harshly. “My dear Wendy. Shall I
call you that? Yes, I think I shall. Wendy, some of the
ladies most eager for my title were American!”

She flushed. “You know, Lord Pellen, I don’t
understand why you insist I stay here if you distrust me
so much.”

“Call me Lord Richard-it’s so much less formal,”
he said mockingly. “Let’s say I have my reasons.
They’re sufficient and I don’t choose to disclose them.
More wine?”

“No, thank you.”

“Afraid I’ll get you drunk and assualt your virtue?”
he mocked. “You have the roles reversed, I think.”

Wendy was becoming quite angry and it showed in
her eyes. Lord Richard, watching, was puzzled.
Confound it, he thought, why did she look as though
she felt insulted? For a moment, he was vaguely
uneasy, then banished the notion that he had
misjudged her. The evidence was too strong against the
girl. He began to talk at random about the local
countryside.

Much later, they rose from the table. They were
laughing together and Wendy felt very relaxed. She
hobbled on her crutches toward the hall and her room.
Behind her, Lord Richard stood watching with
narrowed eyes and a twisted smile that would have
disturbed Wendy had she seen it. But she did not.

In her room, her wrapper and nightgown had again
been laid out. Her other skirt and blouse hung in the
wardrobe, clean and pressed. Something seemed odd
about the room. Suddenly, she realized what it was.
The bookshelves were now full of books. In amazement, she began looking at the titles.