Chapter Fifteen

She was walking down a long darkened corridor. At the end there was a door, a sliver of light was visible around all its edges. She reached out her hand and grasped the doorknob, felt the coolness of the metal beneath her palm. Steeling her resolve, she twisted it and swung the door open.

Catherine awoke to another beautiful sunny morning. Sitting up in bed, she reached her arms high above her head and stretched, sighing with pleasure as she felt her muscles loosen and her bones click. Glancing across at her beside table, she was surprised to see a letter placed there along with the customary glass of milk and plate of sugar biscuits which were left for her every morning. Curious, she picked up the envelope and inspected it; it was made of thick parchment, on the front her name 'Lady Catherine Merryweather' had been written in an elegant black script, turning it over she saw that the wax seal had been embossed with the image of a cross - ah, now she had an inclination as to the sender!

Tearing open the envelope, she read the letter inside as she drank her milk and ate the biscuits. She was right, it was from Old Parson. He had written to invite her to take tea with him at midday at the Parsonage. Excited, Catherine drained the rest of the milk and climbed from her bed, leaving the glass on her bedside table along with the empty plate (they were always whisked away without her noticing), she then positively skipped down the hall to her bathroom in order to wash and prepare herself for the day ahead.

An hour later, and dressed in a white linen Summer dress with Broderie Anglaise needlework, her hair hanging in heavy tumbling curls down her back, Catherine descended the great stairs and headed for the dining room. As it turned out, Benjamin was nowhere to be seen and the breakfast table had not even been laid out yet, so she decided instead to go directly to the kitchen itself.

Opening the door, she was briefly blinded by the early morning sunlight which shone in through the kitchen's many windows, the line on the left faced out onto the stable yard with its dovecot and stone well, while the windows on the right side of the room looked out onto the immaculate walled kitchen garden. The kitchen itself was large and welcoming with a flagstone floor and oak beams lining the ceiling, from which hung bunches of onions and herbs. At the far end, taking up nearly the entire wall was a wide open fireplace with a spit for roasting, nearby stood a more modern conventional oven for baking pies and cooking stews and soups. At the centre of the room there was an enormous oak table, scored and marked with age, and yet still serviceable, it had been in the kitchen since the Manor was built six hundred years ago. Upon it were the ingredients for a batch of pastry which someone had begun to make but had abandoned halfway though, Catherine glanced around for said person but the only sign of life she could see took the form of a large black cat, curled up asleep upon a window seat.

"Good morning, Zachariah, Where is Marmaduke Scarlet?" Catherine said, going up to tickle the cat behind his ears. A loud booming purr immediately erupted in the cat's chest and he lifted his head, inviting her to scratch his chin, his emerald green eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Ah! Good morning, Lady Catherine! To what do I owe the pleasure?" a jolly voice rang from behind her.

She turned to find Marmaduke Scarlet himself, entering from the door out to the kitchen garden, a basket on his arm laden with a selection of vegetables freshly dug from the earth. The little man with his bright red cap had been cook for the Merryweathers for countless years, indeed, Catherine remembered him from before she was sent away to school - a fact, like Digweed, he'd been overjoyed to hear a fortnight ago when she'd followed the mouth-watering smell of freshly baked bread and had stumbled into the kitchen.

"I'm afraid you're up a tad earlier than usual so I've not had time to set the breakfast table yet." he continued, placing the basket on the table and then climbing up onto a stool to continue preparing the pastry, "Did you see the letter that was delivered for you today? I left it at your bedside."

"Yes, thank you, I did. It's actually the reason I'm here, I have a favour to ask you."

"Oh, do you now? Well, ask away, Little Miss! There's no task too big or too difficult for Old Marmaduke!"

Catherine took a moment to smile affectionately at the fact he had slipped so easily back into using the old nickname she had been known by all those years ago (just as easily as he'd slipped back into the habit of leaving milk and biscuits at her bedside). 'Little Miss'. Back before she left for school, when the Manor was abuzz with servants, they had all known her as Little Miss. "No more chocolate for you, Little Miss! You'll spoil your dinner." "Woah! Slow down, Little Miss! Watch you don't trip and fall!" "It's past your bedtime, Little Miss. Away to bed with you." They were all gone now, only Digweed and Marmaduke Scarlet remained.

Catherine lamented the fact that she'd never gotten to say a proper goodbye to anyone, that they weren't here to see how much Little Miss had grown up. But most of all it pained her how she'd took them for granted while she had them - oh, she'd adored them all, make no mistake! But she'd always just childishly assumed that they'd remain in her life forever. She could still remember all of their faces and names; her old nursemaid who had told her stories and kissed her on the forehead as she'd put her to bed each night; the kind-hearted maids who'd took great delight in dressing her and fixing her hair, telling her all the time how pretty she was and what a fine lady she'd grow up to be; there was young ruddy-cheeked Alec the stable hand who had taught her to ride a horse; Old Man Mellors, who had lived and worked in the gatehouse and always used to give her a peppermint sweet from the stash he kept in his pocket whenever he saw her; Mrs. Fraser, the portly lady who would come every Monday to do the laundry; the fun-loving footmen who would sometimes chase her about the house and gardens on days when her parents weren't home - she'd been quite taken with the youngest of them, a tall dashing blonde lad named Erwin, despite him at the time probably being about twenty-three, and one day she had announced to him with complete sincerity that when she grew up she was going to marry him so he'd better not fall in love with anyone else (Erwin had thought this was the funniest thing he'd ever heard and, after laughing heartily for a solid minute, had ruffled her hair and responded with a tender and tactful "We'll see, Little Miss!"). There were many more but Catherine knew that if she dwelled too long reminiscing then she'd feel sad for the rest of the day, so she put them from her mind for now and concentrated on the task at hand.

"The letter was from Old Parson, he has invited me to tea at midday." she explained, "I was wondering if you had here anything to spare for me to take along as a gift so as to thank him for his hospitality?"

"Well, I do have some very fine jams and honey in the larder, perhaps you'd like to take along a couple of jars? Also, if my memory serves me correctly, I do recall that the Parson always had a love for the fruit grown on our own grounds whenever he took tea here, perhaps a small selection of that would serve too?"

"That sounds absolutely splendid!" Catherine smiled, "But you make it sound as if the Parson came here for tea often, why hasn't Benjamin invited him since I've returned?"

Marmaduke Scarlet abruptly turned away to stare back down at the finished pastry on the table before him, kneading it again with renewed vigour, "If it pleases you, Little Miss, I'll make you some breakfast and after you've eaten you can take my basket and go out into the garden and the orchard to pick the fruit. Or if you prefer I can pick it for you while you eat?"

Catherine got the distinct impression that her previous question had troubled him, so she decided not to press the topic, "Thank you, Marmaduke, I'd like to pick the fruit myself."

The little man smiled and hopped down off his stool, pulled another up to the table and ushered her to sit down upon it, after which he flitted quickly about the room, picking up ingredients here and there. Catherine watched him dotingly, she hadn't even told him what she wanted for breakfast but she knew from experience that there was no need: Marmaduke Scarlet always had the canny ability to know exactly what food would satisfy a person the most, even if they didn't know it themselves.

Before long a steaming plate of Eggs Atlantic was placed before her; two halves of a freshly baked English muffin topped with slices of smoked salmon, two perfectly poached eggs and a drizzle of thick creamy hollandaise sauce. With a final flourish he ground on a little pepper from a mill almost as tall as he was and then sprinkled on a pinch of chopped chives. Catherine, whose stomach was now growling in a most undignified manner, descended on the food with an enthusiasm and hunger to rival even the hardiest of men. While she ate Marmaduke Scarlet busied himself emptying his basket of the vegetables he'd earlier picked.

When her plate was clear she accepted the basket and walked out through the door to the kitchen garden with the instruction to pick whatever took her fancy. And so Catherine strolled around the neat little garden, admiring the vast array of fresh fruit and vegetable plants which always seemed to yield a successful and impressive harvest (she chalked it up to Marmaduke Scarlet having a magic green thumb as well as a wonderful intuition when it came to food). Silver droplets of dew still lingered on the plants like miniscule crystals, the Sun having not quite gotten high enough in the sky yet to melt it all away. After picking three good handfuls of strawberries, blueberries and raspberries, she let herself through the gate in the garden wall into the orchard where she collected a respectable haul of apples, countless cherries (she couldn't resist sampling some of the plumper ones she picked and thus ended up working twice as long), and even a couple of pears which had ripened early.

All the while she worked, her mind kept drifting to think of Robin de Noir. Repeatedly she scolded herself and tried to think of something else but only a short while later he would once again intrude on her thoughts. Everything about him enraged Catherine and the more she thought about him, the more irritated with herself she became for thinking such thoughts; from his cocky smile to his arrogant devil-may-care attitude, his laughing brown eyes to the fact that he appeared to take great delight in deliberately provoking her, Catherine despised every part of him with a fiery hate. In truth though, at the moment she was most annoyed with herself for being foolish enough to fall for his trick of kissing him and actually expecting him to be true to his word and return her scarf. She had behaved like a silly naïve girl who was liable to get herself in a whole lot of trouble by trusting the wrong sort of people. Well, she told herself, she couldn't entirely blame herself, after all, she was used to associating with well-bred gentlemen who never took such liberties and always kept their word. Clearly Robin de Noir was no such gentleman.

Returning to the kitchen she noticed for the first time row upon row of potted salmon-pink geraniums standing outside on the ground in front of the long kitchen windows. Once inside she found that Digweed had materialised - he wished her a good morning - and was engaged in carrying plates of food out of the kitchen, Catherine surmised Benjamin was up and about and soon would be descending for his breakfast.

"Why, Marmaduke, what a beautiful show of pink geraniums you have out there! I've never seen them planted in the gardens." she exclaimed.

Once again the cook did not look at her, instead staring fixedly down at the teapot into which he was spooning tealeaves, "Yes, they brighten up the place, I find." he murmured neutrally.

Normally Catherine would probably not have noticed anything amiss with his response but given that the same thing had happened earlier, well, it was hard to ignore when someone was clearly not giving you a straight answer. She was just about to raise the subject and demand an explanation when she realised that Digweed was standing staring at her with an expression which could only be described as pure horror.

"Digweed? Whatever is the matter?" she asked, feeling a little anxious.

The man blinked and then rapidly shook his head, "Nothing, my lady, nothing at all. I'd best be getting this food out to Sir Benjamin." And with that he quickly hurried through the kitchen door.

Marmaduke Scarlet was suddenly at her side, gently prising the basket from her hands and prattling away, "My, what a lovely haul you've got here, Little Miss! A lovely haul indeed! You certainly know how to pick them! A proper discerning eye you have there, I shall have to get you to help me when more starts ripening and coming into season. Would you like that? Now, let's see, you've got strawberries and blueberries and raspberries from the garden and plenty from the orchard. I'll bet you've been helping yourself to some of these cherries if the red stains on your lips are anything to go by! You were just the same as a little girl, the gardeners were forever catching you swiping fruit from the orchard and spoiling your dinner. You had a sweet tooth even back then. Now, the fruit trees in the garden aren't in season yet, but I do have some left over jams from last year, let me fetch them from the larder…"

The little man deposited the basket on the table and disappeared into the larder leaving Catherine bemusedly staring after him. Oh yes, they were definitely keeping something from her and she'd already resolved to find out what. Since asking directly was evidently out of the question, she'd have to go about it cunningly, through snooping and clever loaded questions in the hope that someone might trip up and say something they shouldn't.

Marmaduke Scarlet reappeared carrying three jars; a jar of plum jam, a jar of apricot jam and a jar of honey. The honey, he explained as he nestled the jars safely in the basket amongst the fruit, was harvested at a farm just outside Silverydew by a man named Lawson Riddington and owed its incredible sweetness to the great variety of beautiful flowers throughout the Valley.

Her basket packed, Catherine thanked the cook for all of his help and hung it over her arm. He in turn bade her a good day and told her to be home in time for dinner because he was making a roast joint of lamb with mint gravy. Assuring him that she wouldn't miss it for the world, she left the kitchen and went along to the dining room to wish Benjamin a good morning. He was sitting at the table leafing through a newspaper while Digweed stood at his side transferring rashers of bacon onto his plate.

"So you've finally surfaced." he said by way of greeting, glancing up at her sternly.

Catherine felt a prickle of annoyance at the implication that she was late for breakfast because she had slept in, "Actually, I've been up for hours. I took my breakfast in the kitchen with Marmaduke Scarlet and then I went picking some fruit in the gardens. So it is you, dear brother, who has surfaced late."

Benjamin fixed her with a look of such disbelief at her account of her productive morning that Catherine felt herself becoming even more cross, "Up at the crack of dawn picking fruit? Thinking of taking up jam making? Or just opening a market stall, sister?"

Catherine couldn't help but laugh at this, all of her irritation melted away and was instead replaced with a warm and comforting fondness for her older brother. Yes, this is what she'd been missing, the verbal riposte and playful teasing they'd engaged in when they'd been young. Benjamin had been so cold and distant, but now it finally seemed that the ice was beginning to melt and he was slowly returning to being the compassionate and witty boy that he used to be. Overwhelmed by emotion, she couldn't resist putting down the basket and striding over to where he sat to fling her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

Untangling herself and stepping back, she realised that he'd gone a little pink behind the ears and that he was looking down somewhat embarrassedly at his newspaper. Back when they were children they'd never been uncomfortable with being close, in their play nor in showing affection, but Catherine knew that it would take time for them to return to the way they were, so for now she would be content with the fact that he hadn't shied away or stiffened at her touch this time.

Benjamin cleared his throat and nodded at the basket on the floor, "The fruits of your labour, I presume?"

Catherine smiled at his silly pun (yes, things were going to be alright, she was sure of it), "Old Parson has invited me to tea. I'm taking some fruits and jams for him. Actually, what time is it, please?"

Her brother's pocket watch proclaimed it to be a little after half past ten.

"I think I'll start walking over to Silverydew now. It usually takes half an hour if you walk quickly but if I go at a leisurely pace then I'll surely arrive just in time."

Benjamin frowned and shook his head, "Catherine, I really must insist that you wait a while and allow Digweed to take you in the carriage. After what happened last time you walked from the village alone, you shouldn't take the risk again. The De Noirs will probably be waiting for the first opportunity they can get to try to assault you again."

"I shan't let those beasts control my life, Benjamin. If I stop walking to Silverydew then before you know it I'll hardly be leaving the house at all. If that happens then the De Noirs will get exactly what they want: to have this Valley all to themselves. Well, it isn't their Valley, it's ours."

"For God's sake, Catherine, are you serious? You'd rather put your own life at risk just to make a stupid point? You are my younger sister and I, as your guardian, am responsible for your care, for once in your life do as I say!"

Oh, now Catherine was really annoyed. How dare he talk down to her! But instead of losing her temper and shouting at him, she simply turned away, "Digweed," she spoke calmly to the man who had been hovering uncomfortably near the breakfast table, "I am walking to Silverydew this morning and I shall be walking back also. I will not have need of the carriage. Should my brother order you to follow me then you are to ignore him. Remember, I gave my orders first. Is that understood?"

After a moment's hesitation, his eyes flicking from Catherine to her brother and back again, Digweed spoke in a small and awkward voice, "Very good, my lady."

Her brother gazed at her with a somewhat mystified expression for a moment, "You sound just like Mother." he said, and Catherine felt a sudden surge of pride. Then his expression hardened, "Stubborn. Pig-headed. You never could tell her what was good for her either once she had an idea set in her mind."

Catherine felt her face grow hot, "I do not intend on shutting myself away in this house like you do, Benjamin." she grated out spitefully. With that she picked up her basket from the floor and walked out the room. Benjamin did not call after her.

When Catherine left the house she'd been absolutely furious, but it is very difficult to maintain a foul mood when one is taking a leisurely stroll down a beautiful country lane and basking in late morning sunshine. After a short while her anger began to abate and she began thinking clearly, at which point she decided that she would try to forget about what had just happened in the dining room, having no intention of letting a silly row spoil such a lovely day. If she was still feeling upset by the time she got to Silverydew then she would talk about it with Old Parson who was always good at solving problems and listening to others' troubles.

To pass the time as she walked she began thinking of the details of the mystery which had presented itself to her this morning. Just what was it that Digweed and Marmaduke Scarlet were so reluctant to talk about? First the cook had changed the subject when she'd questioned whether Old Parson had visited the Manor for tea often while she was away at school, and then he and Digweed had gotten jumpy over pink geraniums of all things! She was certain that there was more to this than meets the eye, and so she cast her mind back over the past few weeks, trying to remember if anything else odd had occurred which had not stuck out to her at the time. Well, there was Benjamin's excessive drinking for one, and how when she'd confronted him about it he'd gotten ever so angry and then later by the lily pond had given her that whole speech about questions he couldn't answer and things which must remain private. Then it occurred to her that she vaguely recalled Phillip Hadaway mentioning something unusual about Benjamin that day he had escorted her back to the Valley from school. What on Earth was it that he'd said exactly? If only she could remember. For all she knew it could be a terribly important piece of information. Perhaps if she-

Oh no. Oh no, no, no, no, NO! Catherine was now fully convinced that she was indeed the unluckiest girl who ever lived. For there up ahead, behind a bend in the lane stood Robin de Noir.

He stood in the middle of the road, his arms folded and his feet planted firmly apart, blocking her path. Even as she hung back, feeling a strange mixture of fury due to seeing him again and apprehension lest this was another kidnapping plot and Benjamin would be proven right, she bristled at the arrogance of his posture.

"Back to cause more trouble?" she called to him.

"I assure you, I am on my best behaviour today." he responded.

"Ha! No doubt that is just another lie! Why must you persist in bothering me? I'm not doing anything wrong. I'm not even anywhere near your forest."

"Who said you were doing anything wrong?" he asked sharply.

"Or is this another habit of yours?" she continued, "Playing the highway man and stealing from any innocent person who happens to cross your path."

"I'd hardly call your family innocent." he snorted contemptuously.

"What on Earth are you talking about?"

"About a feud that goes back as long as anyone can remember."

Catherine laughed derisively, "You're saying you actually believe that story about the Pearls? My God, you are even stupider than you look!"

"And you don't? Wake up, silly girl! Why do you think our families have hated each other for the last few hundred years?"

"Probably because all of yours are fools like you." Catherine responded with sarcastic false sweetness.

"And all of yours are pig-headed like you!" he laughed.

And that was the straw that broke the camel's back, the fact that he had used the same insult as Benjamin had used earlier. All of Catherine's rage came back with a vengeance, twice as fierce and twice as hot. There was no controlling herself now, "You, are the most irritating, insufferable boy I have ever had the displeasure of meeting!" she yelled.

And with that off her chest, she turned and ran away quickly up the road before he had a chance to reply. The couple of times she glanced back she was delighted to see that he did not appear to be following her but, nevertheless, she had to be sure. On her right-hand side the grass at the side of the road dropped away into a slight slope down to the field below, it wasn't steep, merely the slightest of inclines, and in that field mere feet away there happened to be three trees standing close together with a couple of tall, leafy bushes growing at their bases. If she could hide unseen behind them and still keep an eye on the road then she would see if he did decide to follow her after all and, once he had gone in the opposite direction, she could climb back up onto the road and continue walking to Silverydew.

Thinking it a very fine and clever idea indeed, Catherine hurried to take up position, standing amongst the trees, peeping up over the bushes at the road stretching left and right in front of her.

"Just like a typical female!" a voice from behind crowed, startling her, "Always wanting to have the last word!"

Catherine turned around to find him lazily leaning against a tree behind her, "How on Earth…?" she trailed off, astonished.

"You forget, kitten, I was born here and I've spent my entire life running about this countryside. I know all the quickest ways and the hidden places." he said smugly.

"Just stay away from me!" Catherine huffed, walking back up to the road, "You have stolen from me and held me hostage, what could possibly make you think that I will just allow you to foist your company upon me?"

And of course he followed, "Ah, but I did set you free in the end. Surely that deed cancels out the thievery and the kidnapping?"

"Even if it did, it certainly wouldn't change the fact that you lied to me about returning my scarf and took an inexcusable liberty against my honour." she replied tartly.

Robin smirked at this, "Then I offer you my apologies, Miss Merryweather, for all the indignities I have done unto you." he said with mocking formality, taking off his hat and bowing with a flourish, "However, I cannot apologise for the inexcusable liberty for I confess I rather enjoyed it, finding the enduring tingle awfully pleasant." at this he ran his fingers over his lips, "And I am certain that the pleasure was mutual."

"How dare you say such a thing, you vulgar boy! Well, I do hope you are proud of yourself, you earned your kiss through trickery and deceit."

"Exceedingly proud, yes!" and there he was grinning smugly again, "Though, does it occur to you that perhaps I only succeeded because you wanted it in the first place?"

Catherine snorted, "You must be mad." she muttered.

"Whatever you say, kitten."

"Do not call me that."

"What have you in here, princess?" he said, plucking at the cloth which covered the basket she carried.

Catherine held it out of his reach, "Jams and fruit for Old Parson, I am supposed to visit him for tea, not that it's any of your business. Now, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way or else I shall be extremely late."

She belatedly realised that they had merely been standing on the road arguing for quite some time and quickly took off walking in the direction of Silverydew.

"Walking to Silverydew? Wonderful! I shall escort you." Robin declared, leaping forward to take her arm, link it through his and steer her down the road.

"Release me at once!" Catherine ordered, seething, trying to pull herself free of his grip but he merely smiled blithely and stroked her arm as if trying to soothe her temper.

"Now, now, niceties must be observed, after all, I've just apologised so gallantly for all my wrongdoings."

"Not all." she muttered.

"Here I am acting like a proper gent, no doubt just as well as all the fancy boys you probably met in London. Told you I was on my best behaviour today, didn't I?"

Catherine rolled her eyes and resumed her attempts at trying to tug her arm free.

"Tell me, Miss Merryweather, how is it that you came to know the legend of the pearls?" he said light-heartedly, as though they were but a pair of sweethearts walking in a park one Sunday, making pleasant conversation. Catherine stared at him disbelievingly, surely this situation couldn't get any more surreal?

"My old nurse used to tell it to me as a bedtime story when I was a little girl." she responded.

"A bedtime story? How quaint. My father preferred to tell it whenever he wished to inspire hate in my heart for all your family."

"And I suppose this is the way you express your hatred towards me? By tormenting the living daylights out of me?" Catherine laughed sarcastically. Robin merely smiled and patted her hand.

She decided to play along with his stupid little game, "Tell me, Mister de Noir - truthfully for once, if you please - why did you set me free that night?"

"I don't think tigers should be kept in cages." he said with a wink.

Catherine gave a noncommittal grunt, sounding uncannily like her brother. The pair walked in silence for a while, she having finally resigned herself to the fact she probably wasn't going to be able to pull her arm from his grip.

"I suppose I should thank you for finding and returning my cameo brooch to me." she blurted.

"If you wish."

"Yes, well…thank you for taking the time to find it. It was most…thoughtful of you."

"You're welcome." he said. Catherine noticed that he said this a little petulantly, that he had probably expected something more for his efforts. She could well imagine what he would demand for his reward.

They reached the top of the hill overlooking the village. The village of Silverydew sat nestled between two hills: the one which they now stood upon with the road leading to the Manor and the sea, and a hill sprinkled with flowers and topped with ruins of some sort. The pristine whitewashed houses of the village shone in the sunlight and looked for all the world like a child's toy model, the gardens were neat and the trees in all their blossoming glory.

"I shall leave you here." Robin said, releasing her arm and tipping his hat to her.

"Thank you." she muttered grudgingly then started on her way down the hill to the village.

"Miss Merryweather! One last moment of your time, if you please?" he called suddenly after her. Catherine grimaced, he was still keeping up the charade of being a respectable gentleman?

"What?" she snapped, swinging around to face him and finding that he had already ran down the hill after her.

Her outburst didn't startle him, he merely blinked once calmly, "It has occurred to me that you may be confused about my intentions and I wish to explain." he explained.

"Yes, thank you." she admitted with a slight sigh of relief. Finally the puzzle of why he was so fixated with her was about to be solved.

Abruptly, he snatched up her free hand, raised it to his lips, placed a soft, quivering kiss upon the back and whispered huskily over it, "I think, I should very much like to court you."