Chapter Four

Robin, Henry and Richard ran swiftly home to Castle de Noir to tell Robin's father about the mysterious young woman they had seen in the carriage and in the Merryweather gardens. When they got there, Coeur de Noir was sitting at the table in the hall, eating dinner with Dulac and the other men.

"A girl you say?" Coeur de Noir said with interest, leaning forward in his chair, "What kind of girl?"

Robin was at a loss for words, why did his father always ask unanswerable questions? To him, one girl was no different from the next.

Richard, however, seemed to understand what his uncle wanted to hear and this didn't surprise Robin - Richard was forever dallying with the scullery maids and serving girls, "A girl of good breeding." the blonde boy piped up. Robin agreed with this, the girl had a somewhat proud and regal air about her.

"Tall, with black hair and dark eyes." Richard continued, "And the Demon Dog did her bidding."

"She'll be of Merryweather blood, then," Dulac said through a mouthful of bread, "If the dog was loyal to her. A distant cousin arrived for the funeral, perhaps?"

"No, the Merryweathers are a dying breed - thank God - as I recall they have little or no extended family." Coeur de Noir said thoughtfully, "I wonder if…well, perhaps it is, after all, ten years is an awfully long time - fetch the book with the Merryweather tree in." Robin's father kept a book with a copy of the Merryweather family tree in for two reasons; the first, because he always said that the better you know your enemies, the easier it is to defeat them; the second, because he took great delight in crossing off a name whenever a Merryweather died - be it by a De Noir hand or not.

The book was brought by a serving girl and placed upon the table in front of Robin's father who opened it at the back were the names of the most recent Merryweathers were recorded.

"Let's see…Sir Tristram Merryweather - dead these nine years past, Lady Elizabeth Merryweather - died yesterday, their eldest son, George Merryweather - God knows where he is, their other son, Benjamin Merryweather - let's hope he joins his mother soon - Aha! Here she is: Catherine Merryweather, she'll be eighteen years old now. Did this girl look about eighteen?"

"Yes." said Richard.

"You really think that it's her?" Robin said in astonishment, "Where has she been all this time? I thought from her clothes that she had an air of London about her."

"I had no idea you were so privy to the latest London fashions, Robin." Coeur de Noir said, fixing him with a frosty glare. The men snorted with laughter and Robin felt his cheeks redden.

"But you're right," his father continued, "As I recall, her mother sent her to a London boarding school when she turned eight."

"What if her mother sent her to London with the pearls, to keep them safe and out of our way?" Henry said.

"Does she even know about the pearls or the feud or anything?" Robin muttered.

"Now there's an idea, Henry!" Coeur de Noir considered, ignoring his son, "I wouldn't put it past a Merryweather to pull a sly trick like that: we spend the last ten years searching the countryside for the pearls, and all along they're wrapped around the throat of a pretty London debutant."

"So what now? Do we kidnap Missy-Lady-whatsherface?" Dulac said, tapping the girl's name on the page.

"Of course, and when we do, I don't think it will take much interrogating to make her give up the pearls."

"And if she doesn't have them?" Robin said.

"Then we hold her ransom. I'm sure Sir Benjamin would willingly give us anything to get his precious baby sister back. There's no need to start planning yet, I'm sure she'll wander straight into our hands sooner or later, silly girls often do." They all laughed at this and sat down to continue the meal, all except Robin who was in a bad mood after being humiliated by his father and wasn't hungry anyway, so he walked from the hall and to his bedroom.

Robin's bedroom was in Castle de Noir's eastern tower and thus the room was perfectly circular, the floor and walls were of thick dusty stone and the windows were so thin and high that the room was in an almost constant state of darkness, meaning that in just one month Robin would go through hundreds of candles. All the furniture in the room made of dark mahogany wood and carved in the gothic style.

He threw himself upon the four-poster bed with its blood red curtains and sheets and pulled from his pocket the red scarf which he had plucked from the wind earlier that morning.

They had been playing at highwaymen and hanging around at the roadside, waiting to waylay any passing peasants when the carriage had thundered past and the scarf had fallen from the girl's hair - he still had playing over and over again in his mind the memory of the moment when the wind had ripped the scarf away and all those glorious black curls had come tumbling out, framing her pale face - quite without thinking he had put his hand up and snatched the scarf from mid-air. Then the carriage was gone and when he turned around he found Richard and Henry staring at him oddly so he felt compelled to say, "Look, free scarf!" to justify his behaviour. And, oh, how they'd laughed.

All the while in the hall with his father, his fingers had been itching to touch the scarf where it was stuffed in his inner jacket pocket, he could feel it almost burning a hole where it was pressed against his chest. And now, as he slid the scarlet material between his fingers, he felt the sudden urge to say her name, "Catherine," he said, tasting the word, "Catherine Merryweather."

"Who?" a voice said, startling him. Robin hurried to bury the scarf amongst his sheets and sit up. A serving maid was peeping shyly around the door.

"Begging your pardon, Master Robin, I noticed that you left the hall without eating so I brought some food for you." she said, nudging the door open and bustling in to place on his bedside table a tray with a bowl of stew and a heel of bread upon it.

"Thank you, Rosie." Robin said. But instead of leaving, the girl sat down on the edge of his bed and smiled cheerfully at him. Robin raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I thought you might prefer eating alone tonight." she said. He decided not to point out the fact he was hardly eating alone with her sitting there bothering him.

"It was very considerate of you, Rosie." Robin grunted, leaning across the bed to reach for the bowl and spoon.

"You really shouldn't let your father get you down, you know." she continued gently.

Robin snorted cynically, "I'm used to him being disappointed in me."

"Who is Catherine?" Rosie asked tentatively.

"The Merryweather girl." Robin said, dipping the bread in the stew to soften it, "Her carriage passed us on the road today."

"Richard says she is very pretty. Do you think her pretty?" she asked in a small voice.

Robin shrugged, "I think she's certainly pleasing to look at."

The girl looked crestfallen and Robin stared at her, Rosie was rather pretty herself, he supposed, with her blonde ringlets and womanly curves. Lately she seemed to be taking a special interest in him, going out of her way to be the one to serve him or be kind to him or engage him in conversation. As heir to the De Noir clan, he would of course marry someone who befitted his rank, but it was hardly frowned upon for a young man to engage in amorous activities with a few serving girls from time to time - in fact, it was practically expected of him. Richard did it all the time - "getting in some practice" as he called it, for when he gets married off. Lately though, Robin had lost all interest in the girls of Castle de Noir, besides, he wasn't set on demeaning himself by starting something with one of Richard's cast-offs - and Richard had a lot of cast-offs, leaving slim pickings for Robin to choose from should he have been inclined. And all the girls from Silverydew were incredibly dull and would never let a De Noir come within ten feet of them let alone enter into a relationship with one. It was because of this that Coeur de Noir was convinced that there was something wrong with his son, for it seemed inconceivable to him that any sane, red-blooded young De Noir male could be so indifferent to girls.

"I'd better go." Rosie murmured, "Good night, Master Robin." She sloped from the room with her shoulders hunched and her head bowed. As soon as she was gone, Robin retrieved the scarf from where he had hidden it amongst the bed sheets, laying it out across the bed in front of him to contemplate while he ate.

After he had caught the scarf, he and the other boys had been curious to learn the identity of its owner and so they had followed the carriage and found themselves at Moonacre Manor. Through the gaps in the gate to the estate they had watched as the girl descended from the carriage and was greeted by the pompous Sir Benjamin Merryweather, whom she embraced before following him inside the Manor. The boys were now at a loss as to what to do next so they began to wander aimlessly around the walls to the estate until they came to a section of the wall were parts for the brickwork had fallen away to reveal the thick curtain of ivy which grew over the other side of the wall - if they looked carefully, they could just about see the gardens on the other side through the leaves. Directly opposite the wall stood a white garden bench, Robin felt a shiver of excitement when he realised that the girl was sitting alone upon it. She was crying. In fact, she didn't look well at all, her pale skin had turned a sickly greenish colour and she seemed to be shaking uncontrollably. She leant forward and hung her head between her knees the way people often did to deter a fainting spell.

Henry, never able to stay quiet for long, shuffled impatiently, "Who is that?" he whispered, elbowing Richard in the side to attract his attention.

"I don't know." Richard replied.

"Where is she from?" Henry asked, unaware of the ridiculousness of the question.

"I said I don't-" Richard started to say crossly but Robin interrupted.

"London." he said. All the while they had been bickering, Robin had not taken his eyes from the weeping girl, he had appraised her carefully, noting that her dress - though a mourning gown - was of an expensive cut and made from a very fine material, he noticed how it differed from the typical dresses girls from Silverydew wore; the skirt seemed a little heavier and appeared to consist of several different types of material laid one over another, topped with a sheer black overlay; the collar was higher than that of a dress worn by one of the village girls, indeed, it covered her entire throat and stopped beneath her chin; on her hands she wore delicate fingerless gloves of black lace, the kind that respectable ladies were never seen in public without in the bigger towns and cities.

"How do you know that?" Henry asked. Robin rolled his eyes, the other boy could be so gormless at times!

"Look at her clothes," he explained deliberately, "No girls around here wear clothes like that. Things are different there." Yes, things were very different in London, most respectable peoples' lives were ruled by ludicrous rules of etiquette and decorum and fashions could shift from the sublime to the ridiculous in a matter of a day.

The girl raised her head and stared at the place in the ivy they stood behind with an expression of bewildered horror.

"Your father will want to know about this." Henry prattled, stupidly not realising that the girl could hear every word they were saying, "Do you suppose he'll know who she is Robi-"

"Shut up!" Robin cut him short, slapping Henry on the back of the head - the last thing he wanted was for the girl to hear his name and work out who they were, "She's walking towards us! She can hear us!"

The girl stopped before the wall and stared amongst the ivy. She stood for a while, nibbling her full lower lip in confusion and worriment and not realising that all the while she was staring unseeingly straight at them. Suddenly, Henry and Richard erupted into fits of laugher at the same time, startling the girl and making her stagger backwards away from them.

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!" Robin hissed, emphasising each word by either kicking out at Henry or punching Richard on the shoulder. He soon came to realise though, that his assault was doing nothing to silence them and was in fact making them laugh all the more, they did stop, however, when the sound of vicious snarling reached their ears from the other side of the wall. The Demon Dog was standing beside the girl and growling ferociously, its eyes flashing red and its teeth bared. Richard and Henry both ran away hastily then, and after one final glance at the girl, Robin followed them.

Robin finished his stew and placed the empty bow and spoon back on the tray on his bedside table. He picked up the scarf and fingered the soft material thoughtfully, for some reason unknown to him, he nursed a desperate longing to be the one to catch her - he told himself that he probably just wanted to prove himself to his father. After another moment of thought - this time of the Merryweather girl's full red lips - he hid the scarf out of sight beneath his pillow and rose from the bed and stretched until a particular bone in his back cracked, whereupon he bounded from the room to go in search of the other boys, having decided that he was in the mind to do something fun.