Coveley Castle

2

Coveley County, England, 1830

Four years before the return of Lord Anthony Coveley.

I was not much older than ten years old when my mother took my hand and led me to Coveley Castle on an August morning. Although I had walked through the lands before, it was the first time I had gone with her. In those days, village children often prowled the castle woods every day. 

The Coveley family had come into the property and title during the reign of King James I. Lord Anthony Coveley's domain still encompassed some five hundred acres of good terrain when I was born. However, the old ways of my childhood and my parents' and grandparents' childhoods were gone, and now boys were sent to Cloverdale weaving mills as soon as they learned to use a loom. I had last set foot in those woods when we fled Coveley after the deaths, mounted on Lord Anthony's horses, and galloped away without looking back. 

Someone had told me that much of the forest was cut down after the fire that destroyed the castle. I do not know for sure, but I still remember those old trees vividly. 

The property was bordered on the north and west by Lord Wingbirdman's land, and on the south and east by the old road that connects the city of Cloverdale with the fishing villages about fifty miles away. The forest was our fantasy realm, a perfect haven for our games and mischief. Access to the grove was strictly prohibited, but no one controlled the ban effectively, so it was more out of habit than fear of punishment that townspeople did not abuse game and firewood. John Brown, Lord Coveley's gamekeeper, had died twenty years before, and upon inheriting the estate, young Lord Anthony had never bothered to appoint another gamekeeper. Without Master Brown's care, the forest grew uncontrollably, the paths were closed, and no one collected the dry branches after storms. Bad thing for us, the children of the town, because the squirrels were ahead of us when it came to collecting chestnuts and walnuts. 

My mother, Fiona Daly, was tall and thin, determined and full of energy. She raised six healthy children alone after my father went to work in the coal mines, where he died shortly after. He moved from place to place with alacrity, always busy. Even when he watched over one of us in fevers, he dedicated himself to mending pants and shirts or knitting stockings. My father died when I was six or seven years old, shortly after reaching the mines where he hoped to earn some money. The priest told us it was an accident, but he never sent us a pound, and my mother cried for him nonetheless.

Then we learned from someone that the accident didn't happen in the mine but on the bridge, and that my father was as drunk as a barrel when he fell headfirst onto the rocks in the river. I broke the nose of the first child who dared to make fun of it in front of me, and no one ever mentioned my father or the unfortunate incident that cost him his life again. But it was hard not having a father. Money was tight, and I knew that at the time, my mother regretted that I wasn't older because the mines took men from the age of fourteen. As an old man now, I can understand why my mother made the choices she did.

That summer, my sister Maria was twelve and a half years old and working with the village seamstress. She earned ten pence a year, as well as breakfast and lunch Monday through Saturday. In exchange for her work, Maria received a trade. It was a great deal and a relief for Mom, because in the evenings, Maria would bring home some food to share with us.

Nancy was only eleven years old, but she was Mom's right hand in the house. I was ten, the twins Carry and Larry were seven, and little Benjamin was barely three or four years old.

When Arthur McClay, Lord Coveley's henchman, asked the parson for advice on choosing a boy to help him on the estate, he took pity on my mother (and me!) and warmly recommended me. Sure enough, I was in the woods with the other boys that afternoon when McClay knocked on the door of our humble home to talk to my mother. I'll never know what she said, but the advance pay pennies that clinked in my mother's pocket (and the promises of baskets of food) convinced her to subject my ungainly fate to the vagaries of Lord Antony's castle.

"You'll have a job for life at Coveley Castle," my mother said, her eyes sparkling with excitement at the bright future that lay ahead for the family. "You won't have to go to the coal mines! And we will be protected. Then you can take your sisters to work in the house."

I looked at her doubtfully, seeing no connection between my misfortune and what she said.

"When Lord Coveley returns, they will need maids and kitchen helpers," she explained, seeing the doubt in my eyes. "Be a good boy and recommend your sisters."

"I will, Mom."

"Now get some rest."

That night it took me hours to fall asleep, and when I finally closed my eyes, morning came in a flash.

"Get dressed soon, we're going to the castle," my mother whispered when she woke me up with a gentle touch on my shoulder and a caress on my forehead.

It was early, and the kids were still asleep. Maria would already be in the workshop, and Nancy was rubbing her sleepy eyes as she stoked up the fire to boil the milk for our breakfast. I got dressed, frowning, and when I was ready, I drank my milk in silence, regretting that my mother's talk the day before hadn't been a dream. I put the bread Nancy gave me in my pocket. She couldn't chew anything, such was my anxiety. 

My mother was not much calmer. She was waiting for me, standing impatiently by the door. In her hands, she had already prepared a bundle with my few clothes. We set off as soon as I finished my bowl.

We walked the entire long way in silence. Sleepy and tired from walking, I felt a sudden jolt of energy upon catching my first glimpse of the castle, as we rounded the final bend of the forest road. The large walled house appeared even more imposing up close, with its peculiar stone creatures guarding the front entrance.

As we approached, the housekeepers, perhaps alerted by the barking of the dogs, opened the door to the carriage gate. A woman, dressed in black, stood waiting for us in the doorway. Her hair was gathered under a cap, and it was completely white. Although she did not have many wrinkles, she did not smile either, and her stern countenance made me feel intimidated.

"Good morning, Mrs. Murray," my mother said, letting go of her hand and motioning for me to take a step forward. I was surprised; I had never seen this woman before.

"Good morning, Fiona," the woman replied, staring at my mother. The authority in her voice made me stand up straight and swallow hard. Turning to me, she asked, "What's your name, boy?"

I was just a scared kid, feeling overwhelmed by the immense castle and the unknown future that lay ahead. A stone seemed to have lodged in my belly, the air escaped from my lungs, and my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. Tears threatened to spill from my eyes.

I looked at my mother, hoping for reassurance, but she averted her eyes. "Behave well. Listen to Mrs. Murray," she said. "I will come to see you next Sunday."

Mrs. Murray nodded in agreement, and I swallowed hard without saying anything. My mother bowed and left without looking back. That was how I ended up at Coveley Castle.