The North Sea House: a gothic romance Read online

  By Camille Oster

  Copyright ©2018 Camille Oster

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the work of the author's imagination, or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Camille Oster – Author

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  Chapter 1

  County Durham, England, 1840

  "WILL IT EVER STOP RAINING?" Sophie complained and shifted her skirts. "Nothing ever feels properly dry."

  The carriage shifted and Vivienne reached out to brace herself against the wall. The roads were increasingly rough and the carriage was at times swaying wildly. Condensation ran down the inside of the windows and there was nothing but bleak grayness beyond.

  "It is spring, Sophie," Lewis said. "It rains and rains and rains."

  "Yes, thank you, Lewis. I needed that explained to me."

  With an eye-roll, Lewis reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a beaten paper bag with his hardboiled sweets. "Anyone?" he asked, offering it, but received no takers. Putting one in his mouth, he returned the bundle into his pocket and resumed his vigil out the window.

  It had been hours and they'd traveled for days—out to a part of the country Vivienne had never been to before. While Sophie and Lewis both lamented the rigors of travel, Vivienne loved visiting new places. Her family had never traveled much as she'd been growing up and she enjoyed the freedoms she was now given, provided her brother, John, was with her. If not for him, none of this would be possible for her.

  "I dare say I smell salt," John said. He was eager to arrive. His foot had been bouncing up and down for the last hour. "We must be getting close."

  "I can't believe Archie talked us into coming all the way out here. In the middle of nowhere, I swear. He can't mean to live out here, surely."

  "Apparently, it's a fine house," Lewis replied.

  Excitement bubbled up within Vivienne. Although she didn't want to admit it, she'd never been to the seaside. They'd been to Bath a few times, and even Cheltenham. Mostly they simply stayed in the house in Somerset, often during winter as well. Her mother had never liked London, so her first season was really the first time she had truly been able to explore the city—as much as convention allowed.

  And now she was going to see the wild and rugged coast of Northern England, and the sea. She tried to smell the salt John mentioned, but she couldn't.

  The constant bickering between Sophie and Lewis was tiresome, but it was how they'd always been. Distantly related, apparently.

  John leaned forward and drew the window down. Fresh, cold air filled the carriage, carrying away whatever heat they'd generated. A constant tradeoff between fresh air and being warm. "I'm sure that's the sea in the distance. We must have arrived."

  The road was so narrow now, it couldn't be seen through the windows of the carriage.

  "I think that's the house," Lewis said, his head out the window. "Heavens that's grim." Sophie urged John out of the way so she could see.

  "It's not insubstantial, though," she said.

  "If you wish to live at the edge of civilization." Lewis shuddered as he pulled his head in, but Vivienne couldn't tell if that was the weather, or the idea of being cloistered this far away from the clubs, salons and entertainment of London. Lewis would never consider it, only conceding to leave the city at the very height of summer. Although, he always seemed to be there at any country party thrown by one of their set.

  Today Archie had invited them to come join him in taking possession of this surprise inheritance from an aunt he’d barely known. Or that was what he’d said. Archie had a tendency to exaggerate his fortunes and hide his losses—or so Vivienne had heard. Their host was in a separate carriage with Brynnell and Horace, both of whom Vivienne didn't know well. Friends of Archie's from Oxford. Swell chaps, according to Archie. John knew them, apparently.

  There was a third carriage somewhere with Sophie's companion, Mrs. Dartmoor, but it seemed to be delayed. Vivienne hadn't seen it when they'd stopped for lunch.

  "That must be it," John said, considering the house now that Sophie conceded defeat to the weather. "It does look old, doesn't it? Maybe even 16th century?"

  "Who knows," Lewis said, pulling on his gloves. "Right now I'd be happy in a barn if it meant getting out of this carriage."

  "You'd never tolerate spending the night in a barn," Sophie said with a tinkling chuckle. "I thought you were allergic to horses."

  "Well, that should tell you a fair amount about my desperation. Not that the company isn't enchanting, because how could you be anything but?" There was sarcasm in his tone and by the expression on Sophie's face, she didn't appreciate it.

  Gravel crunched under the carriage wheels as they pulled up to the house. It was built from gray stone and inclement weather and lack of attention had left dark patches of mildew staining along the roofline and anywhere water tended to flow.

  "It could use some attention," Sophie said as she stepped out of the carriage, John assisting her. Lewis reached his hand for Vivienne and she took it as she stepped out of the carriage, along with her umbrella. Opening it, Sophie stepped underneath it with her.

  "At least you had some foresight."

  Behind them, they could see Archie's carriage in the distance, the road like a scar through the green grass covering the land. No sight of a garden, or any particular landscape details. This was wild country, Vivienne concluded.

  A blustery wind buffeted them and threatened her grip on her umbrella.

  "I think we had better get inside," Lewis said, tucking his hands under his arms. "It's not half cold."

  It did seem colder here than in the city, but that was probably the wind. It tugged at Vivienne's hair and skirt.

  A man appeared through the now open front door. A thin man with gray wispy hair, wearing a suit that had seen its best days some time ago. "Welcome," he said. Vivienne noted his accent. It was unlike one she had ever heard before. Lewis might be right in that the people who lived here rarely left this part of England on the nor eastern coast. It was the North Sea beyond those cliffs, known for its wild weather and unpredictable shifts.

  Archie's carriage was just pulling up, his head already out the window, reaching through to open it before the carriage had stopped. "It is quite a journey here, isn't it? But look at it." Clearly excited by what he was seeing.

  "It is a stunningly beautiful house," Lewis said, contradicting his earlier statement. "And what a fortune you have had bestowed on you. Truly a sight to behold."

  Placing his hands on his back, Archie stretched, while Brynnell stepped out of the carriage in his somber, dark clothes that made his complexion look pale as a result. Archie was dressed in more colorful clothes, while Horace preferred not to be noticeable, wearing brown.

  The man at the top of the stairs cleared his throat and Archie looked up. "Oh, yes. I am Archibald Percival. I am sure you have been informed of my arrival. I believe my solicitor sent a letter."

  "We received such a letter, my lord," the man said. Again Vivienne listened to the accent. "We had not realized you were coming with guests."

  "Well, of course I am coming with guests," Archie replied. "Sorry, what was your name?"

  "Jenkins," the man said.

  "Right," Archie said. "Well we had better get out of this rain."

  "Of course, my lord," the man said, stepping back to g
ive them entry.

  The doors were wooden with iron studs on them. It did look ancient, and sturdy. Could probably keep out invaders if necessary.

  Vivienne smiled at the man holding the door open, but he didn't smile back.

  "Cheery, isn't he?" Archie said as the man walked outside to see to the carriage drivers and their trunks.

  "Not sure he's all that happy with you coming to take things over," Lewis said, lighting the pipe he'd been waiting to have. Sophie had refused to let him smoke in the carriage, and he'd had enough of waiting.

  "Looks like a parlor over here," Sophie said, standing next to a doorway, before she disappeared in. They all followed, arriving in a room with dark wood paneling and faded pink silk on the walls. The carpets were worn, and some of the furniture looked close to threadbare. "Charming," Sophie said, not entirely sincerely.

  A fire crackled in the hearth and Vivienne walked over, soaking up the warmth. While the carriage had been mostly warm, the lack of movement had left her cold and stiff. Her arms were still covered in her green velvet traveling coat and she soaked up a bit of warmth from the fire before turning to John to help her take it off.

  She'd had it made for her last year as she'd been preparing for her first season. Her introduction into society had gone very smoothly, and largely she had John to thank for that, accepting her into his group of friends. Not the kind of brother who balked at including his sister, and she was grateful. Now his friends had become hers, although she had met quite a few from before, when they'd been invited to her family’s house in Somerset during university holidays.

  Checking her hair, she felt that most of her pins were still in place. It was too late in the day to rest, but hopefully they would have a moment to refresh in their rooms before supper. From the sounds of it, the staff hadn't been expecting such a party, so rooms may not be ready for them. Hopefully that wasn't the case.

  "Drinks," Archie said brightly as Jenkins appeared at the door.

  "We have sherry," Jenkins said and Lewis blinked repeatedly as if trying to understand.

  "Is that all?"

  "I'm afraid so. Miss Trubright did not approve much of drinking."

  "Well, that will not do at all. As you can see, we are entertaining. Where is the nearest supplier?"

  "That would be in Crimdon."

  "Right. We'd better send a man to Crimdon to stock up at the earliest opportunity. Would now be possible?"

  "I will see to it, my lord," the man said with a small bow of his head.

  "Yes, I don't think anyone could tolerate this brisk weather without a constitutional," Archie went on. "A bit of everything. As opposed to Miss Trubright, I very much approve of drinking, particularly when guests are invited, but otherwise also. Make no mistake."

  "As you say, my lord," the man said.

  "Your aunt sounds like she was a charming woman," Sophie said. "We are all so sorry to hear of her passing."

  "From what I hear, the woman never understood the concept of charm. Never married."

  "Well, if you stay out here, you probably never will either," Lewis said, flaring his coattails as he took a seat on one of the sofas. "But then the society all the way out here could be utterly charming."

  "You never know," Archie said. "Wynyard Hall is nearby."

  "And Lambton Castle," Sophie added. "The Earl of Durham lives there somewhere. His son Morton is a hoot. I'm sure you'll find some interesting characters around."

  "Why, thank you, Sophie. We shouldn't all give in to our negativity."

  "Yes, don't be jealous, Lewis. It is a shame you don't have any unmarried aunts with vast estates to give you upon her death, but it simply isn't to be."

  Chapter 2

  THE FIRE IN VIVIENNE'S room was slowly warming the space. Walking in, she could tell that it had just been aired. There was a chill to everything she touched, but then she also suspected no one had been in this room for quite a while. It was hastily cleaned, the surfaces still wet from being wiped down.

  It seemed they were quite an imposition on the house. Archie had probably been careless with informing them of the number he was bringing with him. Sometimes, such practicalities were beyond young men. They thought little of how things were managed for their comfort.

  The bed was made of dark wood, with twisting pillars in each corner. The canopy was of faded velvet, a dark blue originally, she would guess. It was a nice room, but uncared for. The walls were papered, but it peeled in places.

  Moving to the window she looked out. There was the sea, dark and ominous. The weather was picking up, or perhaps this was normal. It was hard for her to tell. Waves crashed against the rocks below and the water sang. Water stretched for miles, and she couldn't really tell the sea from the sky on the horizon.

  Her trunk stood next to the door, but it hadn't been unpacked. There seemed to be no housemaids to assist with such duties. Sophie wouldn’t like it, but it wasn’t the end of the world. They would simply have to make do.

  Walking to the trunk, she opened it and lifted out her dresses to hang on the edge of the wardrobe. A bit crumpled from being packed away in a trunk, but the weight of it would straighten it out eventually.

  Unable to resist, she returned to the window and the sea. Along the cliffs outside, she saw the mysterious Brynnell walking. The wind buffeted his coat, making it flare. Vivienne watched him for a while. The person in this party she knew the least about. Wealthy, she had been told—had inherited his title already and now had a fine estate in Kent.

  It wouldn't surprise her if he was here because Sophie wanted him to be. From what she'd seen, he didn't have the vivacious and cordial nature of Lewis and her brother. Even Horace, who was mostly off with the fairies if truth be told. A lovely young man her mother always said. And he was, although Vivienne wasn't sure he actually saw her when he looked at her.

  A knock sounded at the door behind her. "Viv?" John called.

  "Yes," she replied and waited for him to open the door. His head popped in. "My room is facing the other way," he said as he came over to the window. "Quite a view, isn't it? You'd almost fear the sea coming up to claim you while you slept."

  A shove on his arm had him wincing. "Why would you say such a thing?" Vivienne said. The last thing she wanted in her head were images like that.

  "Ah, there's Brynnell. Couldn't wait to get rid of us, I see."

  "It was a long ride. I'm sure he just needed to stretch his legs."

  "You always insist on seeking the innocent explanation." John surveyed the scene outside again. "Can you imagine inheriting a place like this? At dusk like this, it’s quite gloomy, is it? Don't get me wrong, it's a grand house, but isn't this the kind of place disgraced people go to hide themselves from the world?"

  "It does seem remote."

  "Who would even choose to build a house out here? They had to despise other people."

  "Or they loved the sea."

  "Some retired naval admiral wishing he was out there?" he said, pointing to the sea with his head.

  They stood in silence for a moment and the fire crackled behind them. This was an unusual trip, but Vivienne was glad. John had recently had his heart broken when the young woman he'd been sweet on had accepted another suitor.

  For all his prospects, he wasn't titled yet, like Brynnell. A titled gentleman with an estate always trumped an heir to one.

  "Should we go out there?" John asked.

  "I don't think we'll have time before supper."

  "No," John said with disappointment. "You are probably right. It will have to wait until tomorrow. Did you see that horrific portrait of Archie's aunt in the dining room?"

  "No," Vivienne said.

  "Well, she'll be watching us disapprovingly as we drink her sherry tonight. Somehow I doubt whatever man they sent will return in time for supper with anything else. I don't even know how far he has to go. I don't think we passed anything remotely considered a town for at least a few hours on the way here."

  He shift
ed toward the door, then turned. "Sherry it is." Silently, he closed the door behind him when he left, and Vivienne returned her gaze to the scene outside, where Lord Routledge was returning, smoking a cheroot, with the smoke pluming with the wind. The cold didn't seem to bother him as he stopped and faced into it, looking down into the wild, churning waves below. Vivienne wondered what went through his mind. The little she'd known him, he looked like a troubled man.

  It was getting dark quickly. In the time she'd stood there, it had darkened considerably. Turning, she saw a candle in a holder, a layer of dust on the edge. But there were no matches, which was an oversight in good household management.

  Taking it, she walked over and lit it with the fire, then returned it to the bedside table. Between the fire and the candle, fewer shadows were cast along the walls and ceiling. Returning to the window, she hoped Brynnell returned to the house safely. This was not a place where you wanted to be caught outside after dark. How easy would it be to trip and stumble into that water that constantly beat the rocks below. A shudder went through her.

  It was time to refresh herself and she brought the candle to the dressing table. The mirror was marred with age spots, but she could see herself well enough to re-pin her hair, and to wash away any dust from traveling.

  The hall was dark when she left her room to return downstairs. No lamps had been lit, which left only a faint light in the distance to guide her. A grave oversight, or the house was seriously understaffed for such a large party to descend on them. Hopefully there would be enough food for everyone. Surely a house like this would have some stored.

  The main staircase was lovely, a sweeping curve of dark wood. A suit of armor stood by the door, as if ready to defend the house.

  "Ah, the lovely Miss Harcourt," Archie said jovially as she entered the salon, which was at least lit enough that they could see each other. A fire roared in the hearth and she saw Brynnell standing there with a glass in hand. At least he had made it inside without falling off a cliff.