Penmort Castle by Kristen Ashley
Cash didn’t declare his undying love, give her a bouquet of the finest roses, nor did he hand her another velvet box containing expensive jewels.
Nevertheless, his point had been made.
Beautifully.
Unfortunately, that afternoon, Abby was suffering a mini-nervous breakdown after all that had befallen her. It was the kind of mini-nervous breakdown which every girl knew could be staved off by engaging in an eating frenzy. Therefore, she followed her first scone, which was more than enough, with another one.
During dinner, she’d also had her mind on a million things, starting with her grandmother’s house being torn apart and ending on the possibility of her body flying apart when it landed at the bottom of Penmort tor.
Therefore, she had barely touched her delicious, special, celebratory meal.
“Sorry,” she muttered and put her hand on Cash’s stomach.
His fingers gave her shoulder another squeeze just as Abby felt Zee’s kitty body land on the bed.
Her cat cautiously walked across the bed and stopped. Likely considering his options, he chose Abby’s ankle and deposited himself half-on, half-off it.
Then he started purring loudly.
Abby relaxed into Cash’s side and her hand slid from his stomach to wrap around his waist.
Cash’s left hand moved across the touchpad and clicked the buttons while the fingers of his right hand started to stroke Abby’s shoulder.
Abby watched the chart disappear and a spreadsheet with an insane amount of data, including words and numbers, came up. Cash scrolled through it so fast there was no way he could read it. Abby certainly couldn’t. But he clicked it closed and then pulled open another one which had more columns, more rows, more words and big numbers.
He started to scroll through that at alarming speed and Abby called, “Cash?”
She meant to ask him about his work, particularly why he did so much of it.
But when he replied, “Yes?” for some reason she didn’t ask.
Instead, she forged on to an even less comfortable subject. “Um, can I tell you something?”
His finger on the touchpad froze and he murmured, “Anything, darling.”
She pushed up on a hand and turned to look at him. His eyes caught hers and his hand slid around to rest on the back of her neck.
“Promise you won’t get mad?” she asked.
His fingers gave her a squeeze before he assured, “Promise.”
She bit the side of her lip and watched as, behind his glasses, his eyes fell to her mouth and something changed in his face. She couldn’t put her finger on it but it looked like humour mixed with warmth.
“I asked Mrs. Truman to dinner,” she admitted and he’s eyes moved directly back to hers.
“I’m sorry?” he asked.
“Tomorrow,” she went on.
“Abby –” he started.
She pushed back and blurted, “I know I should have asked before making plans and I know Mrs. Truman can be a pill, but she was angry about the workmen making noise and demanding to phone you at the office. I had to do something!”
Abby was, of course, making it sound like she was protecting Cash, rather than deliberately throwing him under the bus which had been her earlier motivation but she thought that was the best way to go.
“It’s fine, Abby,” Cash told her.
“Well, um… I’m not done.”
Cash just looked at her, silent.
Abby went on. “Fenella was there and Mrs. Truman invited her along.”
Cash’s brows drew together.
Abby soldiered forth. “Then she invited Cassandra then Jenny.”
Cash’s eyes narrowed.
“Then Fenella called Nicola and she invited her.”
Cash stared at her a moment then closed his eyes and sighed.
“And Nicola asked Honor,” Abby finished on a whisper.
Cash’s eyes opened and pinned her to the spot.
Then she tried to put a positive spin on things. “Suzanne can’t make it.”
“Well thank God for that,” Cash remarked dryly and Abby bit her lip again.
“I’m sorry, Cash. It mushroomed out of control before I could –” Abby stopped talking when Cash’s arm suddenly curled about her waist and he pulled her close so her torso was resting on his, their faces barely an inch apart.
“Stop saying you’re sorry,” he muttered.
“Okay,” she breathed.
“It’s fine,” he told her.
“I’ll do all the shopping,” she babbled on, even though he said it was fine, “and cooking. And I’ll try to get them to go home early so you can get work done, if you have things to do.”
He blinked slowly, as if she’d somehow surprised him and even though she thought this was strange, she kept right on going.
“Just, you know, find a way to take me aside and give me a warning when you get home, if you have things to see to that is. I’ll take care of it so you can get away. Promise.”
He stared at her for a moment she could swear like she was some strange but wonderful, fantastical being.
Then he bent his neck and touched his mouth to hers.
Something about his kiss was different.
It was strange.
But it was also, definitely, wonderful.
Abby didn’t get a chance to process it. He shifted her so she was back in position, cheek on his ribcage and he went back to scrolling through spreadsheets, opening and closing charts and reading through documents at alarming speed.
Zee had moved away when Cash pulled her up but he came back, walked up Abby’s leg and jumped down into the space made by the crook of her hips. He curled in a tiny, kitty circle and started purring.
Cash didn’t say a word at the addition of Zee he just kept clicking through documents.
Abby watched them fly by as she stroked her cat and Cash twirled a lock of her hair between his fingers.
Then, before she knew it, she was asleep.
Chapter Nineteen
Two Important Things Happen to Abby
Abby opened the front door to Cash’s house to see Mrs. Truman standing on his stoop, Jenny, Nicola, Fenella, Honor and Cassandra all behind her.
“Parking is atrocious!” Mrs. Truman snapped by way of greeting then pushed in, grumbling, “We must have walked three miles to get here.”
“We didn’t walk three miles,” Cassandra muttered with a grin in Abby’s direction.
“Felt like it,” Mrs. Truman groused, shrugging off her coat.
Abby ignored Mrs. Truman and welcomed the other ladies with a cheek-to-cheek touch, took their coats, hung them in the cupboard under the stairs and led them all to the garden level.
When they arrived downstairs, they were all looking around in wonder.
“We’ve never been to Cash’s house. It’s gorgeous,” Fenella squealed and Abby looked around.
She’d lit some candles. She’d also gone shopping in Bath that day. She bought a tall, large, cylindrical, glass vase out of which sprouted fragrant, white, hyacinths that sat dead centre on the dining room table. Another identical, but smaller, vase held the same flowers and sat on the edge of the bar that separated the kitchen from the seating area. A third sat on the table between couch and armchairs, also stuffed full with hyacinths.
During her shopping efforts, Abby had purchased a handsome, scarlet-red table runner which ran the length of the dining table. Cash’s sleek, classy, black crockery lay amongst his silver and glassware, the plates hiding the circular, quilted grey pads that Abby also bought. Scarlet napkins Abby picked up with the table runner were folded in rectangles and sat at a slant on each plate.
The aroma of roasting rosemary chicken filled the air and Nina Simone sang softly in the background.
Abby was pleased with Fenella’s comment and further pleased that she was right. Cash’s place was gorgeous but now it didn’t look just show-home gorgeous, it looked home-home gorgeous.
“What??
“Chicken,” Abby answered.
“Chicken?” Mrs. Truman clipped. “I thought we were going to have beef.”
“You talked about beef,” Abby told her. “I never talked about beef.”
Mrs. Truman shot her a glare and then mumbled, “I was expecting beef. All day, I’ve had a taste for beef. Now I get chicken.”
Abby fought a smile and caught Nicola staring at Mrs. Truman in barely-hidden horror.
“Ignore her. She’s crotchety,” Abby told Nicola. “You’ll get used to it.”
Nicola’s eyes came to Abby and she nodded, looking relieved at Abby’s amused acceptance of the older woman but Mrs. Truman spoke.
“I’m not crotchety. I’m particular,” Mrs. Truman informed Nicola. “I like things a certain way. Manners. Behaviour,” her eyes came to Abby, “for instance, people keeping their promises.”
“I didn’t promise you beef,” Abby asserted.
“You did,” Mrs. Truman told her.
“Didn’t,” Abby shot back.
“I’m going to look at the rest of the house,” Jenny cut in. “Abby, you want to show us around?”
Abby’s eyes went to the clock.
Cash had said he’d be home by six thirty but it was five past seven. It wasn’t unusual that he was late, what was unusual was that he hadn’t called.
She shook her head at Jenny but invited, “You all have a look. I’ll get everyone a drink.”
“White wine,” Mrs. Truman ordered sharply as she headed for the stairs, not even attempting to conceal her curiosity at viewing the rest of Cash’s house. Then she finished, “Chilled.”
“That sounds good to me,” Nicola put in, following Mrs. Truman.
“Me too,” Fenella added. She was right on her mother’s heels.
“You know what I drink,” Jenny told Abby and turned to the stairs.
“G&T,” Cassandra requested, moving after the others.
“I’ll just help Abby,” Honor, to Abby’s surprise, stated and the women climbed the stairs.
“That’s nice of you,” Abby muttered, even though she was unsure. She hadn’t yet made her mind up about Honor.
Honor’s eyes were on the stairs and after Cassandra’s booted foot disappeared, she turned to Abby and said in a whisper, “Not really, I needed a chance to talk to you when Mummy wasn’t around.”
Abby went on guard and looked at Honor.
Her face seemed intent, though not unfriendly, but something about it made Abby mentally brace.
Still, Abby replied in a soft voice, “Okay. Can we talk while we make the drinks?”
Honor nodded and Abby asked her to see to Cassandra’s gin and tonic, telling her where to find the liquor and glasses while Abby went to the fridge for the wine.
When she had the wine and was uncorking it, she turned to Honor. “What is it?”
Honor glanced to the side, her eyes catching Abby’s. “Fenella told me what’s going on.”
Abby bit her lip, not sure this was a good thing.
Honor continued, “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re crazy. I know Vivianna exists, I know what she does. So does Suzanne. And, he’s never mentioned it, but I know Alistair does too. The only person who hasn’t seen her is Mummy.”
Abby pulled the cork out of the bottle and asked, “Really? Why not?”
Honor shrugged. “Don’t know. Always thought that was strange, but she never shows or makes a peep when Mummy’s around. Anyway, she, Vivianna I mean, doesn’t do harm to us girls. I think she even likes Suzanne.”
Abby could understand that. Evil, Abby guessed, would know (and like) evil. She didn’t mention this philosophy to Honor for obvious reasons and Honor kept talking.
“I get the feeling she hates Alistair. A lot. She’s always doing things to annoy him when Mummy’s not around. Moving his stuff. Tripping him up as he’s walking through the house. Screaming when he’s on the phone.” Honor stopped and shivered, mumbling, “God, I hate it when she screams.”
Abby’s hand arrested while taking down a wineglass. “She screams?”
Honor nodded. “That’s the worst. It isn’t like a regular scream. It’s low, eerie, sinister. Just hideous.”
“That’s awful,” Abby whispered, thinking it bloody well was.
Who could live like that?
“Yes,” Honor replied and her eyes went to the stairs before she moved to the refrigerator for ice. “We don’t have much time and that isn’t what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“It isn’t?” Abby enquired and Honor shook her head.
“I wanted to talk about Alistair,” she told Abby and dumped some ice into Cassandra’s drink.
Abby’s body went solid and she had to force herself to pour the wine while querying, “What about him?”
“He’s dangerous.”
Abby stopped pouring the wine, stared with stunned, frightened fascination at Honor and breathed, “What?”
Honor came close, took the bottle from Abby and began to fill the glasses, all the while talking swiftly. “He’s not a good man. I don’t like him. Neither does Fenella. We never did. When Daddy died Mummy…” She stopped and Abby watched her force a swallow, betraying an intense emotion that made Abby’s heart go out to her before she forged ahead. “Things weren’t good for Mummy. She was…” Honor halted again and finished with the wine, putting the bottle on the counter. “Let’s just say, she had to marry Alistair. She didn’t marry him because she loved him, she married him because she needed to find a way to take care of us and she had no choice.”
“Oh Honor,” Abby whispered, feeling for Honor and definitely for Nicola, but Honor shook her head again.
“It’s okay, we’ve all gotten used to it. Even Mummy. The thing you have to know is, a long time ago, I found the diaries,” Honor told her.
Abby’s brows drew together in confusion “The diaries?”
“Yes, Lorna’s diaries,” Honor answered. “I found them in the library, years ago, and kept them hidden. I don’t think anyone even knows they exist.”
“Who’s Lorna?” Abby asked.
“Anthony and Alistair’s mother.”
Abby just looked at her, not knowing what this meant and Honor got closer, her eyes going to the stairs then back to Abby and she started speaking quickly again.
“See, Alistair isn’t a Beaumaris. Lorna was raped.” At this news, Abby sucked in breath and put her hand to the counter to hold on but Honor continued. “Some gardener did the deed and then took off. Very unpleasant. She never told her husband, I don’t know why. She should have. Maybe, back then, they didn’t talk about that kind of thing or he wouldn’t have believed her. Doesn’t matter, she didn’t. Before the rape, she was happy, except for Vivianna. She was in line for the axe from Vivianna, I just know it. From what Lorna wrote Vivianna was playing with her, getting ready to go in for the kill. He loved her, Richard Beaumaris did, you could tell from what she wrote. Except, after Alistair was born, Richard turned on her. He knew Alistair was not a Beaumaris, thought she’d cheated on him. His love died and Vivianna backed off when it did but Lorna never said a word.”
“Oh my God. That’s horrible,” Abby whispered, her heart hurting, thinking about Cash’s grandmother living that sad life.
Honor nodded and gave Abby a look that said she definitely agreed but she kept talking hurriedly. “According to the diaries, regardless of how he was conceived, Lorna loved Alistair. She loved both her boys. Anthony and Alistair never got on, though. Lorna thought it was as if Anthony could sense what made Alistair. Furthermore, Alistair was not a nice kid, she loved him but he did things that scared Lorna. Scared and confused her. Things, I think, she only told her diary.”
“That’s not good,” Abby muttered.
“No, it isn’t,” Honor agreed. “And he hasn’t changed. Really hasn’t changed. So much so, I think he could, and probably did, meddle with the brakes on Ant
Abby felt her eyes grow wide and her fingers clenched the counter anew while she breathed, “No.”
“Yes,” Honor returned, “Alistair hated Anthony as much as Anthony hated Alistair. Fenella told me what Angus McPherson said and it all makes sense. He had motive. Hatred, of course. But Anthony was spending all his time in Scotland with Myra and then Cash came along. If Anthony was going to move to the castle with his family, it’s likely he was going to kick Alistair out.” Abby nodded that this made sense and Honor went on. “But, the thing you have to know is, this means Alistair doesn’t own the castle. Cash does. True and legal. All Cash has to do is ask for a DNA test.”
The importance of this news hit Abby like a physical force and she rocked back. Honor either didn’t notice it or more likely was on a mission to get all of her story out before the others returned.
“I had a solicitor friend of mine look at it and the castle’s covenant is precise. First, the castle never, but never, goes out of the hands of a blood Beaumaris, which Cash is and Alistair isn’t. Second, it’s passed down from father to son. Always father to son. If there is no son then to a daughter. Only to a brother if the castle’s master dies without any heir. My friend looked up some records and Anthony was having the covenant scrutinised when he died in order to alter it so Cash could inherit. But, in the end, he didn’t have to. Regardless of Cash’s legitimacy, he was the next in line to inherit. Anthony knew that. Alistair knew it too. Cash was too young and Cash’s mother too crazy and too poor to fight it but my friend says it was all his, all the lands, all the money, all the investments, all the businesses, and especially Penmort. It’s always been Cash’s. Always. All this time,” Honor finished.
Abby found she was breathing heavily and they heard the others approaching so Honor leaned in, took hold of Abby’s upper arm and her voice was soft but urgent.
“I’ve put the diaries in a safe deposit box but I’ve copied the pages about the rape and I have them with me. Before I leave, I’ll put them somewhere and tell you where to find them. And I’ve written down the information on the box and will leave you the keys so you can take Cash there,” Honor told her.