CHAPTER FIFTY

  ‘My Lords, ladies and gentlemen! For tonight we are all lords, ladies and gentlemen. Tonight, we are all kings and queens. Tonight, the social norms are overturned and chaos reigns! For tonight is Twelfth Night, when anything and everything goes – so let the revelry and feasting begin!’ The Lord of Misrule raised his tankard high and cheers rang to the rafters of the banqueting hall at Ravendale. He was actually one of the guides, dressed in a jester’s outfit with a curly crown and strange beaked mask.

  Lara had spent most of the day supervising the removal of the Christmas decorations from the castle, because centuries-old tradition had deemed it bad luck to leave them up – the irony. Although the rest of the rooms were back to their pre-festive Christmas state, the entrance hall and banqueting hall had been left with their greenery and Christmas tree intact.

  There was no way that the decorations would be down by midnight but they’d just have to risk it. The thought reminded her of the next day, when she was planning to come clean about the chalice. She swiped a glass of mead from a tray and took a large gulp, pushing the inevitable aside and preparing to do as the Lord of Misrule had commanded: feast and revel.

  She tried to work out who was behind the dazzling cast of characters packing into the great hall. There were jesters and harlequins, three Henry VIIIs, various cavaliers and Regency ladies, someone in a bear costume – they’d never keep that on all night. Lots of people complimented her on her costume, which had been delivered two days previously by Tessa. It had fitted her perfectly and she’d hardly been able to recognise herself in the mirror.

  Jazz bounded up. ‘You look gorgeous! Guinevere?’

  ‘Close. The Lady of Shalott. You look amazing too.’

  ‘Do you like it? Luke loves it too, but he feels OTT in his outfit, which is why he’s gone to find a very large tankard of mead.’

  ‘Nothing is OTT at a Twelfth Night Ball. OTT is the whole idea. Wow. Is that Carlos?’

  Lara had to look hard at the man in a long curly wig who had just made an entrance into the banqueting hall on the arm of a tall character carrying a basket of oranges.

  ‘I think Carlos has come as Charles II …’ Lara said. ‘And that must be his partner dressed as Nell Gwynne.’

  ‘I’d no idea …’ Jazz said.

  ‘Nor me. I had no idea he was gay either.’

  ‘I’d kill for his coat,’ Jazz said, and both she and Lara gawped as Carlos strolled past them in his coral silk frock coat, breeches, and fancy shoes. He tipped his hat and Lara raised her glass. ‘Bravo!’

  ‘I love Nell’s dress,’ Jazz said, admiring the elaborate low-cut silk gown.

  ‘I think that’s actually Neil …’ Jazz whispered. ‘I recognise him now. He’s a sous-chef in the kitchens.’

  Feathers fluttered and tiaras shimmered as Carlos and Neil were soon lost in a sea of admirers.

  ‘Where’s Flynn?’ Jazz asked.

  ‘Getting into his costume. He didn’t want me to help. Said he wanted to surprise me.’

  ‘Can he manage – with his knee, I mean?’

  ‘I’ve no idea … but I can’t wait to find out.’

  Luke returned, dressed as the Green Man. ‘I feel like a right tit.’

  Lara stifled a giggle. ‘I think you look magnificent.’

  Jazz snorted her drink.

  They chatted for a few minutes – as much as you could chat amid the rising hubbub and the music from the medieval musicians – when Jazz pointed towards the door. ‘Is that Flynn?’

  Jazz stood on tiptoes, pointing in the direction of the rear of the banqueting hall, where Lara could just make out a tall figure in a tricorn. The inner fireworks exploded again. Flynn looked every inch the swaggering highwayman and she could hardly wait to explore what was under the top coat and breeches.

  ‘Yes. I think it is …’

  ‘See you later,’ Jazz said, with a smirk. ‘I want to join in the medieval dancing and I want you to show us how to do it.’

  Lara made her way towards the corner of the hall, weaving past knights in armour, Elizabeth I, plus Robin Hood and Maid Marian. Flynn lingered in the archway, obviously struggling to hobble through the throngs with his crutches.

  Finally, with many apologies for squeezing past people, Lara made it to the corner where Flynn waited at the rear of the hall – in the very spot where he’d made his dramatic entrance on a wild and stormy Halloween. She’d been lost for words then, and she was again now.

  ‘Wow. Wow.’ He blew out a breath. ‘You look absolutely incredible. Like a princess.’

  Lara was aware that the green velvet dress, fit for the medieval noblewoman she was, skimmed every curve of her body. She’d been taken aback when she’d first tried it on; it was so unlike her usual uniform of jeans and a fleece – but also stunned that she could look so regal. Flynn’s reaction, his eyes practically devouring her, made her tingle all over.

  ‘I’m meant to be the Lady of Shalott. She was in love with Sir Lancelot but it didn’t end well.’

  ‘Really?’ He pulled her closer to him. ‘Let’s make sure our story does, then.’ He kissed her.

  ‘You don’t look so bad yourself. Very rakish. Very disreputable.’

  Flynn laughed. ‘Two people have already asked if I’ve come as Long John Silver. All I need is a parrot on my shoulder. But, wow, I can’t get over that dress on you – or you in the dress. I mean, I love everything you wear and everything you don’t …’

  Heat rushed to her cheeks and her décolletage – and there was a lot of décolletage on show, thanks to the low-cut design of the dress. Her hand went to her breastbone, fingers touching the cool stones of the necklace Flynn had given her for Christmas.

  ‘The necklace looks great, by the way. Is it OK?’

  ‘It’s perfect. The colours are beautiful, almost as if you knew what I was going to wear.’

  ‘I didn’t. You kept it a secret. I just got lucky.’ His gaze raked over her again, seeming to leave a trail of heat. ‘In every way.’

  Lara thought of leaning in for another kiss when the clang of a gong interrupted them.

  ‘My lords, ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention as we welcome your hosts for the ball, Henry and Fiona, the Earl and Countess of Penhaligon.’

  Leaning on Lara’s arm, Flynn moved forward so they could see the arrival of Henry and Fiona. There were cheers and applause as they walked in dressed as characters that Lara and most of the staff would recognise instantly.

  ‘Who are they?’ Flynn whispered to Lara.

  ‘The first earl and his lady.’

  Behind them, a man dressed as a page carried a red tasselled cushion. Lara recognised him as one of the security team, although it was a stretch to see him in medieval livery in place of his high-vis and uniform.

  Lara stifled a shriek of horror and squeezed Flynn’s hand so tightly, he let out an ‘Oof. What’s the matter?’

  ‘Th-that. That blue box on the cushion. It’s the chalice!’

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  It might have been the crowds or the heat in the banqueting hall, but Lara felt her legs weaken and a hot flush come over her.

  Luckily Flynn was now holding her arm. ‘Oh my God. They must know.’

  ‘Maybe they haven’t opened it yet,’ he said.

  ‘Then why have they brought it to the ball? Oh, no …’

  The Lord of Misrule banged the gong again. ‘Pray silence for His Lordship!’

  ‘They’re not – oh God, please no – going to open it here. I have to do something.’

  ‘Hold on. Not now. You can tell them afterwards, but now would be the very worst time.’ He squeezed her hand to prevent her from dashing forward. ‘Trust me.’

  ‘I have to tell them.’

  ‘No. It’s too late. They probably won’t notice. Most people are pissed. Henry and Fiona won’t look at it closely. They’re too preoccupied.’ She slipped from his grasp and made her way around the to the side of the room.

  A hush descended that seemed even more portentous because of the revelry and noise that had come before it.

  ‘As you all know, this is the anniversary of an important event in the history of Ravendale. Many centuries ago, King Henry, bestowed this treasure on the castle.’

  Lara longed for magic powers so she could melt into the flagstones. Instead, she had to watch in horror as Henry removed the chalice from the box.

  ‘You could say that, throughout this time, our fortunes have depended on this small and rather humble looking piece of glass.’

  She wondered if, at any moment, the chalice would spontaneously set itself on fire and start irradiating the people in the room like the Ark in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. Perhaps that would be preferable to Henry suddenly discovering the chip in front of a hundred people and having a heart attack. Why oh why hadn’t she confessed before? All her reasons for keeping quiet now seemed ridiculous.

  ‘Maybe that’s true. Some of my ancestors certainly believed it, but, you know, while this chalice is precious – indeed priceless – to our family—’

  ‘Don’t …’ Flynn warned, with a hand on her arm, having finally made it to her side.

  Henry was on a roll. ‘While it is very precious, I know our fortunes will never depend on it.’ He held the chalice high like a tennis player who’d won Wimbledon. Convinced she could see the chip from metres away, Lara was sure it had grown bigger, possibly large enough to shatter in Henry’s hands.

  ‘Our future depends not on luck … but on you. You people here in this room and the many who have come before. The people who work here and volunteer here and love this place as we do. Tonight isn’t about us, or the Penhaligons, or even Ravendale, but a celebration of your hard work and dedication and love for the place.

  ‘We can never be the owners of Ravendale, we can only ever be custodians, along with you all. And on that note, I am delighted to announce that, over the Christmas break, our wonderful daughter Harriet, and her husband, Julian, have decided that the time is right for them to take over some of the reins. They will be moving to Ravendale this spring and jointly learning the ropes regarding running this property.’ Henry still had the chalice in one hand, holding it by the stem.

  Lara wasn’t sure she’d breathed properly for the past half a minute.

  Any impact and drama created by Henry’s dramatic declaration that one of his children would be taking over was lost in Lara’s terror of him noticing the damage to the base.

  ‘I hope you will all give them the same unstinting support you have always shown us. Now, all that remains is me to urge to raise your glasses to the future of Ravendale and to yourselves!’

  Clutching the chalice in one hand, Henry accepted a glass of champagne from a waiter and raised his fizz and the chalice high in the air.

  Cheers erupted amid cries of ‘hear, hear’ and thunderous applause. Then, as Henry thrust the chalice even higher into the air, grinning like a World Cup-winning captain, several things happened at once.

  The chalice slipped, Flynn let go of her hand, his crutch clattered to the flagstones, and he dived forward.

  There was a collective gasp, a shriek from Fiona, a cry from Lara, and Flynn lay on the floor, the chalice clutched to his chest.

  ‘Good God! How did that happen?’ Henry declared.

  ‘Because you’re tiddly, that’s why!’ Fiona said, rushing to Flynn’s aid.

  Lara joined Fiona by Flynn’s side. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘You poor man!’ Fiona said, taking the chalice from him and handing it to the page. ‘What about your knee?’

  ‘I – I think it’s OK,’ Flynn said, although Lara could see he was trying not to grimace in pain.

  By this time, people were crowding around them, muttering and staring.

  ‘Is anyone hurt?’ Jazz asked, pushing her way to the front of the throng. ‘I’m a trained first aider.’

  ‘Are you hurt, Flynn?’ Lara asked, worried about him far more than the chalice.

  ‘Um. I – er …’ He pushed himself up onto his elbows. ‘I think I got away with it.’

  Jazz and her husband helped him to his feet and Lara offered the crutch.

  There was a sudden collective murmur of relief and then a round of applause.

  ‘You should play for the village cricket team!’ Henry said. ‘What a catch.’

  ‘Flynn’s in no fit state to play any kind of game, Henry. He could have seriously injured himself!’ Fiona said. ‘Now, let’s find you a seat while security put that bloody chalice back in the safe. Honestly, sometimes I think it’s more trouble than it’s worth.’

  ‘You don’t mean that, dear,’ said Henry, shamefaced. ‘But thank you for catching it, Flynn.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ he said, trying not to wince. ‘And I’ll be fine.’

  A few minutes later, Flynn was sitting in a corner of the hall with a drink and Lara by his side.

  ‘I don’t know how you did that,’ she said, her pulse rate gradually returning to normal.

  ‘Nor me. Actually, I made the wrong decision, didn’t I? If I hadn’t been so stupid as to save it, and it was smashed to smithereens, no one would have ever known about the – you-know-what.’

  Lara sighed and took his hand. ‘I had thought of that, but I can’t wish the thing to be destroyed, not even if it would save me. No, I think the time has come to face the music. The sooner the better.’

  ‘Not until we have that dance,’ Flynn said, cupping her cheek with a warm hand. ‘I promised you that and nothing is going to ruin it. Even if I can only hold onto you and shuffle.’

  Henry and Fiona left the ball at midnight, leaving most of the revellers still dancing.

  ‘We should go to bed too,’ Flynn said to Lara. ‘We have a big day in the morning. We need our strength.’

  Her heart sank at the thought of her confession, but she was determined to do it. ‘You go back to the cottage. I need to say some goodbyes and thank a few people for helping to organise the ball.’

  ‘Promise you won’t be long?’ It was half plea, half threat.

  ‘I promise,’ said Lara. ‘Can you make it back to the cottage without falling over?’

  He rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll try.’

  She watched him hobble across the hallway where people were collecting their coats and saying their rather drunken goodbyes.

  Music was still pumping out of the very un-medieval disco and a couple of dozen hardy souls, including Carlos and Neil, were throwing shapes on the dance floor. Jazz and Luke had got a taxi home an hour ago.

  Lara lingered in the hall a few moments longer, heaved a sigh, and headed for the family apartments.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Fiona opened the door in her dressing gown. Her lips parted in surprise. ‘Lara! Is everything all right? Is it Flynn? Don’t say we’ve had another drama.’

  Lara’s stomach tightened. ‘No, not tonight. I know it’s late, but may I come in? There’s something I have to say.’

  Fiona frowned but gestured for her to come inside. ‘Of course, but couldn’t it wait until morning?’

  ‘Not really.’

  Henry emerged from the kitchen, wearing an old-fashioned smoking jacket that would have made Lara smile in other circumstances.

  ‘Lara? Anything wrong? You look beautiful, by the way.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, touched by his gallantry while feeling incongruous in her own medieval gown. What she had to deliver wasn’t fantasy: it was real-life bad news.

  ‘Lara has something to tell us. Sit down, my dear.’ Lara sat on the sofa while Henry took a chair and Fiona sat next to her. ‘Go ahead. It can’t be that bad, surely?’

  ‘You’re not leaving us, are you?’ Henry asked, leaning forward in alarm. ‘Not now Harriet and Julian are taking over. They’ll need you!’

  ‘I’m not leaving,’ Lara said wearily. ‘At least I hope I’m not …’

  Fiona exchanged an anxious glance with Henry and murmured, ‘This sounds serious. Go ahead, my dear.’

  Lara dived in, reasoning it was best to simply get it over with, like ripping off a very large plaster from an unhealed wound. ‘I have to tell you something that I should have said weeks ago and it’s related to the chalice. I’m so sorry. You see, I – I – had a mishap with it the day that Flynn arrived. And I only mention him because that’s how I remember the day it happened.’

  Fiona raised her hand. ‘Lara, take a breath, my dear. This can’t be that bad.’

  ‘I’m afraid it is, because I dropped the chalice onto the floorboards and I thought it was OK. But it wasn’t, it isn’t, and you must have noticed tonight, because there’s a tiny chip in the base … and I’ll hand my resignation in now.’

  Henry’s gaze slid from Lara to the chalice and back to Lara. ‘Ah. I see.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ Fiona said, exchanging a tight-lipped glance with her husband. ‘I can see why you’ve been so worried. Hmm.’

  ‘I’ll leave Ravendale, of course,’ Lara said, feeling the disappointment in their voices crush her.

  Henry made a harrumphing sound.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Fiona said again, glancing at the fireplace, as if she couldn’t bear to look at Lara.

  Lara glanced up miserably then jumped as the sitting room door flew open and Flynn hobbled into the room. ‘Wait! I can explain!’

  Everyone stared at him. He was breathing hard. Lara was dumbstruck. ‘Please, don’t blame Lara. It’s my fault the chalice was damaged.’

  ‘Your fault?’ Fiona said.

  ‘The day I arrived at the castle, I came across Lara in the tower. She was putting the chalice away and I burst into the room like a twa—idiot. She was startled and the chalice slipped out of her hands. So, I’m responsible and I’ll resign.’

  Henry raised his eyebrows and glanced from Lara and Flynn to his wife. ‘My word, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people so eager to take the blame for something that wasn’t really their fault.’

  Lara found her voice. ‘But it is my fault,’ she insisted, glaring at Flynn looming over them all. ‘Yes, it was an accident, but I ought to have told you immediately. I was … worried you’d had enough shocks, with Henry’s illness, but that’s still no excuse for deceiving you.’