Fyneshade by Kate Griffin

Author:Kate Griffin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Profile
Published: 2023-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

Lancer barked and bounded down the gravel path between the avenue of ornamental trees. Grace tried to catch hold of its tail, but the dog jagged to the side and she blundered after it, laughing and fumbling her hands. Her fair hair shone in the spring sunlight and the sharpness of the air brought a ruddy glow to her cheeks. If anyone observed us from the house, we would present a most delightful scene – the caring governess determined to bring cheer and variety to her pupil’s routine.

After luncheon I had asked Old Maggie to prepare Grace for a walk in the grounds. Now, suitably muffled, we were heading down to the gate leading out to the riverbank. I intended to study the exterior of the north wing to be certain of the position of the black room.

The path beside the river was no longer waterlogged, but it was still rutted and muddy. I lifted the hem of my cloak and pinched up the dress beneath to guard the fabric as I made my way to the place where Fyneshade’s northern wing came into view. Grace and Lancer trotted amiably behind me, the dog occasionally disappearing into the osiers and brambles when its nose caught the scent of an animal or bird.

As we came to the bend in the river, I remembered the first time I had seen Vaughan here with Dido. A sudden warmth and tightening in the pit of my belly told me how much I would welcome his return.

‘Soon, Marta. Be ready.’

Soon was not a number of days or a date on a calendar. I envied Dido.

We passed the willows whose trailing branches had been held fast in the ice. Pale greenish catkins shivered from those same branches now. The season was turning. A crescent moon was visible in the clear blue sky. In two weeks, it would be full; the Egg Moon of April when life quickened in the land and the wombs of its creatures.

Lancer pushed past me on the riverbank and I had to steady myself against a tree to keep my balance. The dog loped to the edge of the water and began to drink. Today the river was still and grey. I had gone a little further along this time. Ahead of me there was a low stone bridge that had been hidden before by a bend.

I turned to look back at the house. The northern wing was a jagged dark mass silhouetted against the sky. The only break in that shadowy bulk was a broad window set high in the wall facing the river. The panes caught the sunlight and rippled with gold. I knew it for the window at the end of the long gallery.

There was a soft splash behind me and I turned, thinking it to be Lancer frisking at the edge of the river, but it was Grace. The girl had stepped from the bank into the water. Arms outstretched, she was trying to reach the opposite bank.

‘Grace!’ I darted over to her.

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