Raven Hall

By Anna Clarkson

Sir Giles Ravenswood young rich Lord of the Manor makes one mistake taking a drink from the wrong person. The drink is spiked dangerously spiked, and his behaviour while high threatens to destroy farmers niece, Marie Clare's life. Can Sir Giles retrieve his unintentional error and save them both.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna Clarkson
• Release date: Oct 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310067143

Anna Clarkson

Anna is English and lives in Oxfordshire within half an hour's drive of her immediate family (except for a niece who with her partner has been exiled to Scotland). Currently single she lives in a household that contains seven cats. Six of them Birmans.Anna has worked as a Civil Servant, in a bank, as a cleaner, a child minder and in retail.When not working or writing Anna is gardening, growing fruit and veg and can thoroughly recommend Salad Blue Potatoes, try serving purple blue mash to your family.

Book preview

Raven Hall

By

Anna Clarkson

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this ebook and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this Author.

Organic Herb Frame copyright Marilyn Barbone Dreamtime.com

The characters and events in this book are completely imaginary they bear no relation to any real person or events.

Chapter One

It was shortly after dawn on a bleak frosty early December morning when the young lord of the manor Sir Giles Ravenswood baronet, open shotgun over his arm, breasted the hill that sheltered the village of Amescot. Despite the early hour Giles had been up for some time, he hadn't been sleeping well recently not since the night of the Wickham party, which was just a month ago.

Even the thought of that night was still enough to make him shudder with horror; it had been easily the worst experience of his life. For the first few days' he couldn't even sleep naturally, not for more than an hour or two without the drug induced hallucinations resurfacing as terrifying nightmares.

At the same time his days' had been rendered hideous by powerful and psychotic flash backs, then just when he'd become sure they'd drive him insane the flash backs and hallucinations had abruptly started to wane just as Dr Foster had promised him. The fiery horses, the blazing trees and the laughing dogs had all slowly faded in his memory.

Only one of the nightmares still remained clear in his mind, persisting to trouble him haunting his dreams at night and disturbing his days', however he tried he couldn't put it out of his mind as his doctor had advised him to do. If he could only see the girl just once it would set his mind at rest, but their paths crossed so rarely these days' and he'd not seen her for some weeks'.

The only common thread in their lives was Mass, the local Catholic parish was large and since the nearest Catholic Church was some considerable distance away Mass was celebrated once a fortnight in the small chapel at Raven Hall and attended by most of the local Catholics. The girl was usually one of the most regular communicants, either walking over or being given a lift by a retired police sergeant and his wife. Then if they were going on, as was usual, to have lunch with their daughter either Giles or his stockman would run the girl home. She'd not been at Mass for a month now. A month! Try as he might he couldn't help finding that significant! It was a month since the party at Jojo Wickham's, a month since his nightmare had started an ominous thought. He prayed silently that the timing was just a coincidence.

Giles paused to look down the other side of the hill onto the roof of the bleak and lonely Lachlade farmhouse. That was where the girl lived, down there with her Uncle Silas Dykes, farmer and local lay preacher. Dykes was infamous in the district both for his fiery preaching and for his intensely narrow minded view of the world. Dykes, was an elder in a small local Protestant sect, and an infamous old-fashioned hell-fire preacher who saw sin in everything and everyone.

Giles had heard him preach once at an open air meeting and had been hard pressed not to laugh aloud when Dykes had referred to the Catholic church as the whore of Rome, he had thought that sort of bigotry had long since died out (except of course in places such as Northern Ireland). It had caused a lot of quiet laughter in the district five years' earlier when Dykes orphaned niece had come to live with him and proved not only to be illegitimate but a Catholic to boot. What was more the child although only twelve and otherwise apparently docile had clung stubbornly to her faith. She'd determinedly walked to Mass every fortnight through good weather and bad until the priest had discreetly arranged lifts for her.

Living with such a man as Silas Dykes had never been easy for her as Giles had quickly realised. Although at first, through her uncle's indifference and neglect, she had been left to run free across the countryside she had not been allowed to attend any of the entertainments arranged for the children and young people of the area, she was rarely even seen in the village. The girl did not even attend the local school, her uncle disapproving of the headmaster, who was not only divorced but was living with a woman he wasn't married to, instead she had to travel fifteen miles to the next town to school.

On the rare occasions she did escape from the farm she could usually be found walking along the shore of the lake that formed the boundary between her uncle’s farm and the Ravenswood estate (which had been in Giles's family for more than four hundred years'). Giles was not pleased to realise that he hadn’t seen her there either for the past month.

Not since the night of the party, not since the night he had imagined himself with her upon the banks of that same lake. He was sure it was her absence from the two places where he might expect to find her that prevented him forgetting the hallucination in which she figured so largely.

If only he had some excuse for visiting Lachlade farm but Dykes was not one of his tenants and there was neither friendship nor sympathy between the two men to give him an excuse for calling. He sighed and turned to walk back towards his home when, out of the corner of one eye, he caught a glimpse of movement through the doorway of a small stone building which sheltered by trees stood close to the hill top, originally a stable it was occasionally used as a store for straw or hay.

There had been a few cases of theft and vandalism involving farm buildings in the area recently and one case of arson, so Giles moved on silent feet to investigate. His eyes gleamed as he relished the thought of a turn up with some young thug. He'd soon sort them out, and a good scrap would go a long way towards relieving his feelings!

Marie-Claire recoiled deeper into the hut shaking with fear he was here! But why? What was he doing here? Surely he couldn't have seen her! What was she going to do? Maybe if she was still he'd go away and she could escape back to the farm. She stumbled even further back into the dark silence at the back of the building her dowdy dress merging into the shadows. Giles paused in the doorway carefully surveying the dark interior, for a moment he thought he'd been mistaken and then he saw it a deeper patch of darkness close to the back of the hut.

Who's there? He called relaxing slightly, whoever was lurking in the darkness not only appeared to be alone but also was clearly much smaller than he was. Come on out. He ordered sternly.

Marie-Claire jerked convulsively at the sound of his voice and then shrank back hard against the wall terrified. Too frightened to make a sound, she was unable even to lift a finger to defend herself. All she could do was to desperately repeat over and over in her mind ‘please God make him go away, please, please God make him go’.

Whoever was skulking in the hut wasn't going to come out Giles realised and stepped into the hut careful leaning the shotgun, from which he had already removed the cartridges, against the wall and reaching for his torch. The beam of light hit the girl full in the face, she screwed her eyes tight shut against its light lifting a hand as if to ward it off.

Marie? Giles exclaimed and moved quickly towards her, carefully directing the beam of the torch away from her eyes.

Marie-Claire shrank even further back as if she was trying to melt into the stones of the wall; her now open eyes were large and terrified. Looking down into their panic-stricken depths all Giles worst nightmares were realised. He took hold of her arm and urged her gently towards the rough bench, which stood against one wall.

Overwrought and terrified she twisted desperately in his grasp then started to hit out at him fighting to get away, to escape. Giles dropped the torch and caught her other wrist holding her still and shaking her slightly.

Come and sit down Marie, and stop being so foolish. He commanded calmly his voice soft and gentle.

Reacting to the tone of his voice rather than the words he used, Marie-Claire obeyed him she stopped fighting but she was trembling so much she could barely walk. Giles had to coax her gently step by step across to the bench. Having finally got her to sit down he sat beside her holding both of her hands in his. Giles spent the next few minutes gently stroking her hands and talking to her softly gentling her as he would a skittish horse. Finally Marie-Claire calmed down enough to turn her almost gentian blue eyes on him, his hands tightened on hers.

My poor Marie. He exclaimed harshly, pain in his voice. God I didn't believe it had really happened. I am so sorry.

What did you think it was a bad dream? She returned bitterly her voice shaking, as she tried hopelessly to free her hands from his.

No a hallucination, like the rest, the burning trees and the laughing dogs. He assured her earnestly. He closed his eyes and shuddered he could feel the pain emanating from her and longed to take her into his arms and comfort her, but knew this was just not possible. He realised he'd hurt her far too badly for that.

When he opened his eyes again Marie-Claire was watching him still terrified but now also faintly questioning, he'd managed to reach her despite all her fear.

It wasn't my fault. Giles insisted urgently, forcefully. I never meant to hurt you, that's the last thing I wanted.

You mean it was mine. Marie-Claire retorted hopelessly her eyes filling with tears, which overflowed and ran unchecked down her face.

Don't be foolish. Giles returned quickly horrified at what she'd said. How could it possibly be your fault, it had nothing to do with you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, if it was anyone's fault it was Jojo Wickham’s. And mine! And mine! He repeated bleakly, then shrugged and went on I made the mistake of threatening him. Giles paused glancing uncertainly at Marie-Claire before asking. Do you know about Jojo?

Although Jojo Wickham was well known even notorious in Giles social circle, mainly for having too much money and not enough sense, it was possible that Marie would have heard little or nothing about him.

I've heard of him. Marie-Claire admitted uncertainly, her confusion showing in her voice. His sister has been going to my school for the last few months', ever since her public school chucked her out.

Sounds like a case of like brother like sister. Giles mused before going on seriously. I found out Wickham had been supplying drugs to the sister of a friend of mine, I threatened to go to the police if he didn't stop. That was only ten days' before they held the Halloween Ball at Wickham's place, which was a mistake! A very serious mistake!

At the Ball someone spiked my drink with a cocktail of drugs; Dr Foster ran blood and urine tests later he said I was lucky to be alive with all that I had been given. He found me wandering along the roadside giggling and that was more than ten hours after I took the drink. He stopped and ran one hand through his shoulder length gold hair.

I don't remember everything that happened that night. No, let me be perfectly honest I remember very, very little only vivid psychedelic hallucinations of burning trees, laughing dogs, riding a horse with a flaming mane and of course meeting you on the banks of the lake. I didn't know that part was real not until just now.

Marie-Claire was staring straight ahead of herself apparently lost in thought, but at least she had stopped trembling quite so much and she seemed calmer. She turned to Giles and asked abruptly.

Is that why your eyes looked, looked so strange? She questioned urgently seriously. All cold and staring and frightening and, and dead. She was looking beyond him now, into the past. Like mothers eyes after, after, when I found her! She came to a dead halt and started trembling worse than ever.

Giles taking his courage in his hands put an arm around her, gently pulling her lightly against his side. She didn't protest but neither did she relax; he might as well have been holding a lump of stone.

After what Marie? He enquired sympathetically, his voice soft gentle and coaxing. She looked up at him startled; most of the fear had gone out of her eyes instead they were now full of remembered sorrow and bitter unhappiness.

Mother couldn't live without my father two months' after he died she took an overdose, she killed herself, I found her. Your eyes were just like hers, staring at me. She blurted out, shuddering at the memory.

Dear God, you poor kid! Giles murmured and pulled her into his arms cradling her against him, her head tucked under his chin holding her the way he held his younger sisters when they were unhappy or upset.

He was crying Marie-Claire realised slowly, astounded, weeping for her for the unhappy child she had been, and for all the hurt and pain he had caused her. Tentatively she reached up and touched his wet cheek. It was in that moment that her fear and terror of him evaporated and he ceased to be the monster she had been imagining him for the last four weeks' becoming once more the Giles she had known and adored for the last five years'. It was several minutes before Giles recovered and pushed her carefully away from him; Marie-Claire sat solemnly watching him her hands in her lap.

What do you want to do about all this? He asked her gravely, one hand reaching out and stroking her hair away from her face.

Do about it, I don't understand, what should I do. She replied confused, not understanding what he meant.

You've been attacked. Giles pointed out seriously. Assaulted. He paused before uttering the word they had so far carefully avoided Raped! Have you been to the police? Marie-Claire shook her head vigorously, looking down at the floor her face flushed. Do you want to report it to them; if you do I'll go with you.

A startled Marie-Claire considered this totally unexpected idea carefully for a few minutes, while Giles waited impatiently.

But that would only get you into trouble. She protested finally her voice puzzled.

I was the one who attacked you He observed softly.

But you said it was the drugs you were given. She reminded him uncertainly. If that's true. Giles raised his eyebrows at this and Marie-Claire hurried on, stumbling slightly over her words. Then it wasn't really your fault was it, it was more like an, an accident. And then there's my uncle. She added desperately.

Your Uncle? Giles questioned unclear what she meant; Marie-Claire flushed painfully and dropped eyes full of tears then went on bravely.

Uncle Silas doesn't believe that men really, really. She faltered to a stop.

Silas doesn't believe girls are really raped. Giles finished for her sardonically, Marie-Claire flushed again and he mentally kicking himself he asked quickly. "What does he think happens