Page 32 of Gambling with the Earl
For the rest of the night, she paced the wooden floor of her restrictive chamber, watching for the first rays of sunlight to penetrate the dark blanket of night. Weariness stole through her limbs, but she refused to give in to the ache of exhaustion, not when there was every possibility of her falling once more into such troubling dreams.
Would the earl look into her eyes and see the sinful thoughts spiralling around her mind? Would he know that she had unbuttoned her bodice and arched her body for his touch? The prospect was enough to make her stomach churn. How could she stand before him now?
She couldn’t. She must leave. Again and again, she arrived at the same conclusion.
They would have to live without the jewels. So be it. If the rumours were true and the earl was impoverished, there was every chance he had already sold them. She turned this idea around in her mind and found it strangely pleasing. It released her from any obligation. She had tried her best, but had failed through no fault of her own.
There was no harm done. Not if she left today.
Kitty was a fisherman’s daughter, and the rhythms of the tides were as familiar to her as the rise and fall of the sun. She knew the tide would be out just after dawn, leaving the causeway free. If she left now, she would be back at Shoreston Manor before Rosalind came down for breakfast. Her sister’s pleasure at her unexpected return would outshine any disappointment over the jewels. Kitty knew this in her bones.
She dressed hurriedly in the simple gown she’d worn to come to Rossfarne Castle. She placed Lizzie’s straw hat upon her head and breathed in the familiar fragrance of lavender from the dried sprigs their servant kept hung in her closet. It was the scent of home, so different to the sea salt and ancient stone which permeated the austere rooms of the castle. Kitty wondered how she had stayed away for so long.
Her stockinged feet would make no noise on the stone stairs. She slipped downwards through the blessedly quiet servants’ quarters, holding her wooden pattens in her hand. No one had yet risen, though Kitty knew that Cook would soon be stumbling through the cavernous kitchen and beginning her daily chores.
She would miss Cook. In other circumstances she might try to say goodbye, but how could she explain her hasty departure?
No. It was best to leave unnoticed. To slip away, as if Kitty the chambermaid had never been.
She would be Miss Katherine again, to Alfred, Lizzie, and the occasional caller. At least, until the inevitable happened and they were compelled to leave Shoreston. But now she had experience to draw upon that would hold her in good stead for finding work elsewhere.
Lost in thought, she stumbled into the great hall and was brought up short by the sight of Thomas disappearing down the well. Kitty put a hand to her racing heart. Was she hallucinating? She stepped closer and peered down. No, without a doubt,that was Thomas’s balding head she could see, making steady progress down the dark shaft of the well.
What was he doing?
On her arrival at the castle, Agnes had told her that this well had been positioned in the Great Hall in case they were ever under siege. Happily, such an event had never yet taken place and they drew all their water from the large well in the outer courtyard.
Was Thomas checking to see if this second water source had dried up?
Were they preparing for battle?
Kitty recalled the earl’s summary of the castle’s inhabitants. “No guards, no musicians, no entertainers.” They had but the marshal and a few meagre stable hands to protect them. And the earl himself, a trained knight. But still, the odds seemed stacked against them withstanding any attack.
Her mind racing, Kitty stared into the depths of the well and jumped in surprise when Thomas’s head and shoulders once again appeared. He was facing away from her towards the empty fireplace and she instinctively ran to hide behind a stone pillar.
Thomas heaved himself out of the well and placed his hands on his knees to recover his breath. His clothes were bone dry, but nonetheless he exuded an air of a man pleased with his findings. Kitty watched as he leaned back over the perimeter wall and brought up a coil of rope which he began to haul upon.
Whatever was on the end of the rope was far heavier than a mere bucket, for the man strained and moaned with effort. Eventually he tied the rope to an iron handle, braced himself and hauled up a great chest, so heavy he staggered under the weight of it.
Kitty’s skin grew hot. This was a coin chest, much like the ones they kept in the cellar at Shoreston. Was it empty, as Agnes had foretold? Given the weight of it, she suspected not.
Thomas leaned down again and fetched up a second chest, then a third. By now, Kitty was regretting the impulse to hide. She couldn’t cross the hall without drawing attention to herself, but if she didn’t leave soon, the tides would be against her.
With four stout chests in a semi-circle around him, Thomas rubbed his hands together with glee. He glanced from left to right, checking his privacy, then squatted down and unlatched the nearest chest. The lid opened with a creak and Kitty couldn’t help a gasp of surprise at the glittering array of jewels contained within. Thomas chuckled excitedly, reaching out to run his gnarled fingers over the sparkling gemstones.
She could almost believe there was treasure here fit for King Edward himself.
Kitty leaned against the pillar for support. Agnes had been wrong. The earl was rich beyond her wildest imaginings.
Thomas opened the next chest. This was filled with silver coin. Enough to pay an army of guards. Enough to fill Rossfarne Castle with music and dancing and lavish furnishings.
The earl was a miser then, like his uncle. Those glimmers of humanity she had seen were fake after all. He had taken her family’s fortune without a second thought while all the time he had this wealth hidden down a well.
Her stomach churned as if she might be sick, and Kitty moaned as the pillar seemed to give way against her.
Thomas whipped his head round and spied her.
“You,” he snarled. “I might have guessed.”
