THE FIRST DAY
Catriona Carfax arrived at Gallowglass Hall, and her own undoing, one day in early Autumn. She was twenty-two years old, newly married and, it was thought by some, hopelessly out of her depth. Her husband, Lord Robert Gallowglass, was, everyone agreed, a man of outstanding quality and breeding. Very little was known about his new wife other than that she was fifteen years younger than her husband, had no family connections worth speaking of, and was very pretty. They had met in Rome, where Catriona had been employed as a paid companion for the elderly Duchess of Carnaby. Her role required her to be a quiet but attentive servant to the old matriarch, to say little, but always be on hand when needed. This, in the view of Gallowglass, made her if anything, overqualified for the position of Lady of Gallowglass Hall.
After making enquiries as to family connections -- or rather, in the case of this particular young woman, the absence of them, he proposed to her within a fortnight. The fact that she accepted did not surprise him in the least. Gallowglass's impression was that she had a quiet shy charm that he found appealing, despite her lack of social standing. He believed she was naïve and innocent.
By the time he discovered his mistake, it was too late.
The couple were met, upon their arrival, by a house staff of around twenty, who had waited politely for their arrival in the late afternoon drizzle. They stood, huddled together under umbrellas, and their dark uniforms gave the whole scene a rather funereal air rather than an atmosphere of welcome.
The consensus among the gathered workers was that the bride was a pretty young thing who doubtless deserved better than the mouldering ruin she would now be forced to call home. The fact that she was an orphan, with no ties to any respectable family worth mentioning, raised eyebrows, but then it could hardly have been otherwise; there had been enough rumours about the hall, and the Gallowglass family, to ensure that finding a suitable bride in the local area was quite impossible.
For any other aristocratic family the marriage would have been quite the scandal, but the Gallowglass's of Northumbria were no stranger to gossip and speculation. In fact, the news of Roderick's hasty marriage, and the return of the couple to the family estate, was seen by many to be an event of the highest significance, for there had not been a bride at Gallowglass Hall for almost a century. The new Lady Gallowglass would be the first of that name to step over the threshold in living memory.
As Cat stepped out from the Bentley, a murmur rippled through the ranks of the assembled staff. She had the kind of delicate beauty which seemed totally at odds with the grim stern manner of her husband. She wore her rich, glossy black hair in a sleek, close-sheered bob that hugged her elfin face in a way that emphasised the hollows under her cheekbones. She was short, with a slight figure that looked almost boyish. More than one of those assembled felt pity for the young woman as she stumbled, wide-eyed and innocent, into her new home. If she was disappointed at the general state of disrepair around her, she did not show it.
The hall stood on a gentle rise of ground, surrounded on all sides by wide acres of untended grass. The absence of anything resembling a garden surprised and disappointed the young bride; she had entertained fantasies about how she would spend her days here in her new home, and Sunlit afternoons in the garden had played a large part in her daydreams.
The building itself consisted of two wings connected to a tall, three-stories central structure. From the air, Cat speculated, it's form would be very reminiscent of a large black bird, or a bat. The stonework was dark, and the rows of windows reflected the dark sky so that the whole front of the house resembled a hulking shadow. There seemed no life in the thing at all. Cat felt sick when she saw it, but was careful not to show her disappointment, accepting her husband's arm with a smile, and allowing herself to be drawn into her new home.
The next few hours went by in a whirl. Try as she might, Cat found it impossible to remember the names of all the members of staff whose job, she was told, was to see to her every need. The house itself was vast beyond understanding. The tour was conducted at a brisk pace, with her husband leading her through a bewildering warren of staircases, dimly lit corridors, and empty rooms, many of which contained furnishings still draped in white dust sheets.
Her husband pointed out family portraits as they passed, but the list of names was as quickly forgotten as those of the staff. She hurried to keep up with him as he strode ahead.
They came, at last, to a gorgeous bedroom on the ground floor at the extreme east wing. The room was light and airy, containing a luxurious four poster bed, tall fully stacked bookcases, and a wide bay window that opened out onto the broad sweep of lawn at the rear of the building. It seemed disconcertingly at odds with the rest of the house. It was as though they had stepped into another building entirely.
"This is your room," Her husband said, standing at the threshold, observing his young bride as she walked around the room. She looked at him, confused.
"My room?" She said, the surprise clear in her voice. "Will we not be sleeping..."
"This has always been the room for the Lady of the house," her husband answered, his voice calm and measured, as though reassuring a child. "A place for you."
"But it is on the ground floor?"
"With superb access to the gardens, I know how much you enjoy your walks. Honestly, darling, it is the way things are done here. The Lord and Lady keep separate rooms. You will need to get used to this."
"And where is your room?" She asked, painfully aware of the neediness apparent in her voice.
"My room is on the upper floor of the west wing."
