The following morning Ellie awakened and looked up at the beamed ceiling above her simple bed. Winter sunshine pierced the plain shutters of her south-facing bedroom window, and the chirruping of sparrows in the holly tree had taken the place of the overnight storm.
Mrs. Lewis, silent as a mouse, had crept in earlier to tend the tiny fireplace, where flames now flickered warmly, taking the edge off the cold. The walls were roughly plastered, and very white, and the furniture was as rustic as that in the rest of Nantgarth House. She could hear voices by the canal, and the clatter of hooves as a horse and cart was driven down toward Nantgarth and the turnpike.
The bedsheets smelled of lavender and were so crisp and white that they must have been boiled before being starched. A patchwork quilt topped the woolen blankets that had kept Ellie cozy from the moment her head touched the crochet-trimmed pillow.
Mrs. Lewis spoke outside the door. “Are you awake, Miss Rutherford?”
“Yes, Mrs. Lewis, please come in.” Ellie struggled to sit up, sweeping her hair back from her face and then stretching her arms above her head. She had slept like a log, and heaven alone knew what time it was now.
The housekeeper came in with a cup of tea, placed it carefully by the bed, and gazed at Ellie as if hoping the uncanny resemblance she had seen the night before would not be there in the cold light of day. But it was, and the woman drew back, whispering something beneath her breath.
Ellie smiled at her. “I really am your cousin’s double, am I?”
Mrs. Lewis became self-conscious. “Oh, pay no attention to me, miss. I do rattle on sometimes. I trust you slept well?”
“Indeed I did. The bed is very comfortable, and the linen so fresh that I know I will sleep like a top even when I’ve recovered from my journey.”
Mrs. Lewis was pleased, and as her eyes met Ellie’s, they both knew they would get on splendidly. It was a good moment, confirming first impressions of the night before.
“Mrs. Lewis, you’ll never know how glad I am that you speak such excellent English,” Ellie said then. “I mean to learn Welsh as much as I can, but right now it is quite unintelligible to me.”
The housekeeper laughed. “You will soon sort it out, I’m sure. I speak English, and so does Gwilym, because I worked and lived at Castle Griffin for a long time, and Lord Griffin always insists upon English being spoken.”
“But you left to come here?”
The woman smoothed her hands down her starched apron. “I was dismissed,” she said frankly.
“Whatever for?”
“Because I fell foul of Mrs. Tudor and her daughter.”
“Who are they?” Ellie inquired.
“Lord Griffin’s permanent guests, Miss Rutherford. Miss Tudor is soon to be officially betrothed to him.”
“Really? How old is she?”
“She might be a year or two your senior, Miss Rutherford.”
Ellie’s impression of Lord Griffin made her appalled to think of such a young woman becoming his wife. She would have liked to ask more, but there was such a wealth of loathing in the housekeeper’s voice that she decided not to. Instead she smiled. “Please call me Miss Ellie, for I would much prefer it.”
“Thank you, Miss Ellie, that is most kind of you. Now then, shall I open the shutters?”
“If you please.”
The woman went to the window, and a moment later the bright light of morning flooded the bedroom as it flooded the valley outside. There, rising above the thick trees on the heights above the pass and the conjunction of the two valleys, were the towers and battlements of Castle Griffin. The great Norman fortress was at once intimidating and beautiful, its grim martial aspect softened by glazed windows that shone in the sunlight, and gardens that spilled down through clearings.
Mrs. Lewis watched how she gazed at the castle. “Would you like to see into your tea leaves, Miss Ellie?” she offered.
Ellie was intrigued. “Yes, if you please.”
“Drink up then, and we will see what is there. All that is required is the cup, saucer, and your tea leaves. Just leave a mouthful of tea in the bottom, that’s all.”
Ellie drank the tea, all the while chiding herself for being a gullible goose; then she handed the cup and saucer to the waiting housekeeper.
“Mind now, miss, I will not see anything, but you will see your secret dreams.”
Ellie was puzzled. “But—”
“That is how it happens, miss. The tea leaves are turned, and by looking at them a person sees what he or she really dreams will happen. It is a window into the innermost soul.”
“I’ll see a ... a vision, you mean?” Ellie’s eyes grew large.
Mrs. Lewis nodded, “Yes, you and only you, my dear. I am but the means through which things are revealed. Do you still wish to proceed?”
“I ... I think so.”
“Very well.”
The housekeeper sat on the edge of the bed, then swirled the dregs in the teacup before suddenly turning it upside down in the saucer and looking at the pattern left in the cup. The leaves seemed to have mostly congregated near the lip. Her eyes began to close, and she sat there without moving.
Ellie regarded her uneasily, for the woman was suddenly as stiff and motionless as a statue. The sun must have gone behind a cloud outside, for the room had become darker—dark enough for a candle to have been lit. Someone else was present. Who was it? Ellie’s hand crept to her throat, and she was conscious of her heart thumping wildly in her breast. Where was her nightgown? She seemed to be naked! And where was she?
She looked around as the uncertain light fell on fine furniture, rich rugs, gilded plasterwork, and other costly things she knew were not in her room. There was a wonderful soup tureen on the mantel, its gilding and painted decoration clearly her uncle’s work. A soup tureen? Why? Surely a vase or an urn would be more appropriate?
Above the tureen, just beyond the arc of candlelight, there was a portrait of a young woman, but she could not make out who it was, except that there was something familiar about it. Then she again became aware of the candlelight as someone approached the bedside.
“No, you mustn’t light candles during the day, for it’s unlucky!” she gasped. She didn’t know why she said it, for it wasn’t a superstition she had ever known before, but for some reason the words came immediately to her lips.
“But it’s night, my darling bride, so there is no need to fear,” said a soft male voice.
She looked up. Athan was there, wearing a long silky maroon dressing gown that was so loosely tied at the waist that she could clearly see that he wore nothing else beneath. His nakedness seemed the most natural thing in the world ... and the most beautiful. Everything about him was beautiful, from the lazily loving light in his gray eyes, the sensuous smile on his lips, and the way his hair was boyishly tousled, to the paleness of his skin and the lean perfection of his body.
In a few moments now she would surrender her chastity and her very soul. She remembered she was without clothes, her light brown hair brushed loose, her breasts peeping above the coverlet, but she had no will to hide herself from him.
The anticipation of his lovemaking was so wonderful that excitement threatened to engulf her completely. This was her wedding night, and soon their bodies would be joined in her first act of love. She wasn’t afraid, she loved him too much for that, but she was eager ... so eager. She longed for him, desired him above all else, and was impatient for the gratification she knew only he would ever give her.
Was that wrong of her? Was it lacking in demureness? Oughtn’t she to be fearful, an innocent upon the altar of marriage? No, she could never be that. Not with him. She was too honest, too in love, too passionate. He had kindled emotions in her that ought to be shocking, but were not.
He came to the bedside, and set the silver-gilt candlestick on the nearby table, where a crystal bowl of sweet-smelling roses filled the room with fragrance. “You are my bride and I love you, Ellie,” he whispered.
“Do you? Do you really?” Her sudden insecurity was almost unbearable.
“My ring is on your finger, my darling, so how can you doubt? You are my life from now on, Ellie.”
“Do you swear it?” she whispered.
“Upon my very soul,” he breathed. “I am going to make sweet love to you, Ellie. Before dawn I will have proved my adoration over and over, and will have shown you ecstasies and delights that you have not dreamed existed.”
“Are there truly such delights?” she asked.
He smiled, and slipped into the bed with her. The candle flames swayed seductively, sending warm shadows over her skin. He leaned over, kissed her on the lips, and drew her down from the pillows so their bodies touched.
The delicious sensation of his skin against hers sent her pulse racing. Her entire being yearned for all of him, wanted to rush toward satisfaction, but she was afraid her utter innocence would disappoint him. “I may fail you, Athan. I’m so green, so ignorant of—”
“I will teach you.” He kissed her mouth again, and her lips softened and parted. Oh, such a kiss, slow, luxurious, enticing, and filled with such promise that she thought she would die of anticipation. Kiss followed kiss, and caress followed caress as they explored each other for the first time. Her need for him made her feel as if she would ignite, but at last they were one, her virginity stormed and then vanquished.
“Look at me, Ellie,” he whispered. “Look at me for this one moment.”
She obeyed, her eyes dark with such fierce desire that she would have done anything he wished of her. He smiled, and began to move inside her. “This is love, Ellie. This is true love.”
She gazed into his eyes, loving him so much that she thought she would die of ecstasy. Joy tumbled wildly through her veins, and her soul seemed to melt into such a wild storm of gratification that she felt she would drown in its fiery waves.
It was too much, too much.... Her eyes closed, and she floated away on a sea of pleasure that seemed to stretch to every horizon. This truly was love, the most beautiful love, and it was theirs to share forever, forever, forever....
“Are you all right, Miss Rutherford?” Mrs. Lewis’s concerned inquiry intruded upon Ellie’s blissful reverie.
“I beg your pardon?” Ellie’s eyes flew open. Athan had gone, and the room was filled with bright daylight. There was no marriage bed, no gilded plasterwork, and no fragrance of roses.
“Are you all right? I spoke to you several times but you didn’t answer.”
Ellie managed to smile, for her senses were still whirling in all directions. She could feel the flush on her cheeks and knew that her eyes were bright. The exquisite pleasure of lovemaking was still with her, sparkling through her skin and shimmering through her blood like sunlight through a canopy of summer leaves.
“Yes, I ... I’m quite all right, thank you,” she answered a little weakly.
The housekeeper looked at her face and then smiled. “Dreams are very private, are they not?”
Ellie returned the smile as best she could, but didn’t say anything. There had to be a logical explanation for what had just happened, and she guessed that it was simply and solely the manifestation of wishful thinking.
Whether or not Athan was a director of the hated Unicorn Bank, she remained so fiercely attracted to him that her mind’s eye had conjured an impossibly idyllic scene in which there were pleasure and happiness without adversity.
It was a fairy tale, brought to life by the fact that in spite of a good night’s sleep she was still very tired, not only from traveling, but from everything else that had happened to her during the last year.
Mrs. Lewis got up. “Dreams are what one makes of them, Miss Ellie.”
Ellie held her gaze, a trace of superstition still lurking in the shadow of her logical explanation. “Do you promise you didn’t see anything just now?”
“I promise. All I know is that it has brought a glow to your cheeks and a sparkle to your eyes. What you saw was good, and I am glad.”
When the housekeeper had gone, Ellie leaned her head back against the pillows. Oh, how wonderful such a future would be. She closed her eyes, cast her mind back a few minutes, and relived every wonderful moment.
“This is love, Ellie. This is true love....”