Chapter Twenty
The light was rapidly fading as Dominic’s coach turned into the gravel-lined drive leading to Ashburn Abbey. During the one-hour journey from Newton to the village of Ashburton, which lay close to the ducal estate, Artemis and Dominic traveled alone while Horatia, Lady Celeste, and Miss Sharp followed in another carriage. Yet another coach conveyed all their luggage and several other servants.
Artemis leaned forward and peered through the gathering gloom to get a better glimpse of the enormous sprawling manor house. The rain had petered out to a light drizzle, but a mist had begun to roll in from the surrounding moors. It wreathed the towering oaks lining the drive and the abbey itself, but Artemis could still make out the house’s looming bulk. In many ways, it reminded her of a grander version of the Thornfield Hall inJane Eyrethat had lived in her imagination for so long.
While it had a touch of Gothic to it—the stone rainspouts appeared to be fiercely faced gargoyles—it was essentially Elizabethan in style with three separate wings branching off the main body of the house. Ivy clambered with abandon over the gray stone walls and about the numerous high-arched windows. There were even several crenellated towers, and above the gatehouse hung a huge bell.
“What do you think?” asked Dominic. He lounged negligently in the opposite seat, but his gaze was filled with keen interest as he studied her face.
“It’s…it’s lovely,” she said.
“Liar,” he returned with grim amusement. “It’s a monstrosity, but it’s my home. The place where Horatia and I were born and grew up. Where Celeste was born and where…” His voice trailed off. “Juliet wasn’t particularly enamored of it. She always thought it was haunted. I take it you don’t believe in ghosts or other supernatural beasties, despite your penchant for Gothic novels?”
“While I’ve never seen a ghost myself, I do generally subscribe to Hamlet’s view: ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.’” Artemis shrugged. “One might say that I’m quite open-minded. And you? Do you believe in ghosts?”
He smirked. “Not really. Not now. But that didn’t stop my childhood nurse from trying to fill my head with local tales of ghosts and witches and pixie lights on the marshes and spectral black hounds on the moors. The bridge we crossed at Ashburton supposedly has an evil sprite named Cutty Dyer who lives beneath it. He slits the throats of unsuspecting drunks and then after drinking their blood, hurls them into the river below.”
Artemis shivered theatrically. “How wonderfully grisly. I must make note of that for my—”
Oh God.Artemis slammed her mouth shut. She’d almost said, “for my next novel.”
Dominic raised a quizzical brow but then the carriage drew to a halt outside the abbey’s grand front entrance and thankfully they were caught up in the hubbub of arrival.
Dominic escorted Artemis into the imposing main hall where the soaring vaulted ceiling was clearly an original part of the abbey. Artemis had barely any time to take in the saints depicted in the stained-glass windowpanes or the gruesome medieval weaponry mounted on the hall’s far wall before Dominic was introducing her to the entourage of smartly uniformed servants as though she were already his bride and the new mistress of Ashburn.
It was a situation she hadn’t anticipated when she’d first agreed to this visit, and the weight of her decision sat uncomfortably on her shoulders. It made her think that perhaps she was becoming too enmeshed far too quickly in Dominic’s life. The last thing she wanted to do was play Dominic and everyone else in his life false. But here she was, and for the moment, all she could do was smile and nod and act the part of the dutiful duchess-to-be.
A no-nonsense-looking housekeeper showed Artemis to her bedchamber in the east wing on the third floor. Apparently, it wasn’t all that far from the master’s suite of rooms, according to the young chambermaid who prattled away as she stirred the logs in the massive stone fireplace, plumped the fat cushions and pillows on the equally massive tester bed, and made sure the heavy damask curtains were adequately drawn against the chill, damp evening. The rain had set in again, heavier than before, and Artemis was grateful for the fire.
Once the maid departed, Artemis retrieved her notebook that contained her current manuscript. She’d managed to write a few words on the train this afternoon, but she was nowhere near the end of her novel. No doubt her publisher, Chapman and Hall, would have something to say if she didn’t finish it on time; her editor was expecting a completed manuscript by the end of May. Of course, she no longer needed the income from her books now that she’d made her deal with Dominic, but she felt that she owed it to her devoted readers to finishLady Mirabella and the Midnight Monk.
She glanced at the clock on the mantel, and because it was only half past five, she decided she might be able to squeeze in a little writing time before dinner. One thing was certain: she dare not leave this notebook lying about for anyone to stumble across. Indeed, her silly slip of the tongue in the carriage could have landed her in all sorts of strife with Dominic. For all of his kindness and consideration, she knew he would be horrified if he discovered her secret career.
***
Ashburn Abbey’s dining room was very much like every other room Artemis had seen so far—spacious and magnificently appointed with an abundance of rich furnishings and gleaming wood paneling. A beautifully rendered tapestry of a hunting scene graced the wall opposite a black marble fireplace that was so enormous, it could have accommodated a whole roasted boar. Artemis was certain she was going to get a permanent crick in her neck from staring at all the highly ornamented ceilings—gilt moldings, crimson Tudor roses, and the Duke of Dartmoor’s heraldic badge were everywhere—and there wasn’t a gaslight in sight. It was like she’d stepped back in time to Elizabethan England. If a ghost of a departed monk or one of Dominic’s ancestors floated by, Artemis wouldn’t have been the least surprised.
While the rainstorm continued to rage outside the abbey, all was cozy and warm inside. The blazing fire and numerous beeswax candles provided a soft flickering light. It glanced off the silverware and crystal wineglasses and picked out glints of gold in the gilded picture frames of past ancestors who glowered down at whoever was seated at the vast mahogany dining table. Indeed, the table could have comfortably seated at least two dozen guests, not the current party of four—Dominic, Lady Celeste, Horatia, and Artemis—who were sequestered at the end nearest the fireplace.
Alas, it might have been quite a merry gathering but for the duke’s daughter. Celeste responded politely enough to any questions directed her way, but her doleful silence in between those moments created a strained, awkward atmosphere. Despite everyone else’s best efforts, conversation was stilted. Horatia chatted sporadically about her dogs and horses and the current mounts in Ashburn’s stables. Dominic, who also seemed more subdued than usual, spoke a little about the estate and the tenants and the village and what he hoped to accomplish over the next week.
Eventually, when there was a decidedly uncomfortable lull in the conversation filled only by the wail of the wind and rain outside, Artemis drew a fortifying breath and began to talk about her plans for establishing her college. How as a duchess, she’d love to sponsor a venture that was so dear to her heart. While she was aware that she wouldn’t be able to teach anymore once she’d wed—she was careful not to let slip that she may not actually marry Dominic—she could certainly provide expert advice on the curriculum. And she could petition various universities to allow women to sit for their entrance exams.
She was heartened that Horatia seemed quite impressed with her vision, despite the controversial nature of it. The countess even mentioned she’d consider becoming a patroness if Artemis would like.
While Dominic didn’t say much, she felt him watching her with keen interest. Artemis even sensed that Celeste was listening. At one point she asked Artemis if scientific subjects like astronomy would be part of the curriculum, and Artemis was happy to reply that yes, they would be as well as botany, chemistry, zoology, and physics. “Anything that young men study, our female students will too,” she said. “I firmly believe that women should have professional careers if that is what they want.”
Celeste nodded and returned to her meal, her expression thoughtful as she sliced into her roast beef. At least her appetite appeared to have returned. She’d taken a portion from every platter presented at each course and ate everything on her plate. Artemis knew the girl’s heart was still broken—how could it not be?—but she hoped that with the passage of time, Celeste would come to realize that eloping with Antonio Moretti would have been a terrible mistake.
In the coming days, she would do what she could to ease the girl’s melancholy. Even now, she liked to the think that the books she’d shared with Celeste were helping a bit.
After the dessert course was cleared, both Horatia and Celeste bid Dominic and Artemis good night, claiming they were exhausted from the journey.
Dominic looked exhausted too, but once his sister and daughter had quit the room, he reached for Artemis’s hand and raised it to his lips. “Join me for a postprandial port in the drawing room,” he said, urging her to rise. It wasn’t a question, but Artemis didn’t mind. Spending quiet hours alone with Dominic was addictive, and she wanted to relish every moment while this affair lasted.
Because that’s all it was. A wonderful, thrilling, once-in-a-lifetime affair, and Artemis was certain she would cherish these memories long into her dotage when all she had were her books and maybe a few cats for company.
Once they were settled in matching leather wingback chairs before the fire, glasses of port in hand, Dominic leaned his head against the padded headrest and closed his eyes. “Celeste seems to be coming out of her shell. She likes you, you know.”