There were Flemish suits of armor lining one wall, a massive open fireplace that could roast an entire cow, an incredibly old beautiful Turkey carpet covering the stones. It would require a dozen men to roll it up and lift it.
Corinne walked briskly to the right. “Pouffer, may we please have some of Mrs. Coltrak’s tea and saffron cake? Come into the drawing room, girls.” She took off her lavender leather gloves as she walked into a long, narrow room, a fireplace in the middle, wide glass windows looking out onto the front courtyard.
Vicky said, “I have always believed Ravenscar to be the most beautiful house in all of England. I always wanted to live here.”
Then why did you stop coming here? Sophie wanted to ask but didn’t. Who knew what would come out of Vicky’s mouth with that question?
Corinne smiled. “My dear, there are many beautiful houses in England. Have you ever been out of Cornwall?”
“No, but I do know what is what, your grace, and my father has given me books with drawings in them. I have read many travel journals. I have visited the world.”
The ladies watched Pouffer, his shoulders back, make his stately way into the room, a huge Georgian silver tray on his arms.
“But most of all I love saffron cake,” Vicky said, sat forward on the green brocade chair, and watched Pouffer closely. The old man smiled, knowing he had an audience.
Corinne said, “I can’t smell the smoke here. Luckily, the wind is sending the smoke away in the other direction.”
“It wafts toward the village, your grace,” Pouffer said, and gave Corinne a beautiful bow, “which is a pity.”
Roxanne said, “The house was nearly gutted when we stopped, the flame was that virulent. We believe someone must have set it afire. What do you think?”
The old man didn’t immediately answer her, but she saw that his hands shook a bit as he served the cake. “Oh, dear, this is bad, so very bad. I do not know who could have done something so bad, miss, but there are so many cloven-hoofed young’uns about, it fair to c
urdles Major Dawkins’s precious Glenda’s milk.”
Roxanne said, “Cloven-hoofed, Pouffer? You mean you have Devil worshippers here? Near Ravenscar?”
The old man slowly straightened. “Her grace will tell you, miss. They light fires in the meadows and dance and cause mischief when it pleases them to do so.”
“Like what?” Sophie asked.
“Like stealing a cow’s milk,” Pouffer said, “or digging up vines and throwing them through windows. This is the first time they have destroyed something that belonged to the prince. Bad things coming, miss, bad things coming.”
“Thank you, Pouffer. You may leave, now that you have scared the liver out of our young ladies.”
Pouffer gave Corinne another magnificent bow and took himself out of the room.
“Only a fool would be frightened of the witches,” Vicky said, a slice of saffron cake in each hand. “I would join them, but I don’t know who they are. I have never even seen them. Sometimes I don’t believe they even exist, it is all a fairy tale to frighten children. Can you imagine dancing around a fire in a meadow, moonlight spilling down to glitter off your white shift? Now, the Dower House, now it will be a romantic ruin—once the smoke smell is gone.”
Witches and cloven-hoofed young’uns? How, Roxanne wondered, would they deal with a vampire in their midst? She smiled as she rose. “I believe I shall see if the gentlemen are here yet. Ma’am, I’ll bring them in for tea.” And she left the drawing room with her long-legged stride.
Sophie frowned after her. What was Roxanne up to?
They heard voices. When Julian and Devlin came into the drawing room, their clothes covered with smoke and ashes, their faces black, Corinne jumped to her feet, eyed both of them carefully, realized they were fine, and said, “Come over here, but do not sit down. You may drink your tea standing smartly by the fireplace.”
Both men turned down the offer of tea and took themselves off to clean up. It was some time before Julian and Devlin presented themselves again to the ladies and spoke about the fire.
“There were no obvious signs that someone set the fire,” Devlin said. “But we all know someone did.”
Julian rose when Sophie asked if he would take them about the house—no, the palace, she corrected, and he smiled. He turned to Vicky. “You wish to accompany us? You know every nook and cranny in this pile of stones.”
“No, Julian, I don’t wish to walk anymore today,” Vicky said, and took a small bite of yet another slice of saffron cake. “Ravenscar is not a pile of stones. There are water closets in the new family wing. Six of them, I believe. Later, I wish to inspect the ruin.”
Once in the entrance hall, Devlin paused in front of a suit of armor. “Look at this one knight, Roxanne. Can you imagine a man inside that thing? He would die of heat prostration.”
“Look at this rust, Devlin. Do you believe it to be ancient dried blood?”
Sophie and Julian left them to the discussion of waging battle while entombed in armor and walked toward the back of the house.