“What does the master do? For a living I mean. Or is he
landed gentry?”
“Certainly not, Miss. The master’s family are self-made.
They own a chain of hotels.”
“What hotels?” Caroline felt her throat constrict,
awaiting his answer. She knew what it would be before he said it.
“Cassandra’s, Miss. They have hotels all over the world.”
“Including Cariastan?”
“Yes, I believe so, Miss. I’m afraid I don’t know them
all.”
“I imagine you’ve heard all the stories regarding Lady
Cassandra.”
“Oh yes, Miss. But I don’t want to give you nightmares.”
“I promise you I’m made of stronger stuff than that,
Stephens.”
“Well…” Stephens put down his tray. The gleam in his eyes
told Caroline she had touched upon a favourite subject of his. “I don’t like to
say too much in front of the younger servants. The girls are apt to be silly
about such things. In the old days we could barely keep a parlour maid for more
than a few months. They’d get it into their heads they’d seen Lady Cassandra
and that was it. They up and married the first man who came along, just to get
away from the place.”
“Oh dear. So what are the stories?”
“You probably heard on the first night here that Her
Ladyship was a witch who used to keep lover’s hearts in a box.”
“I did.”
“She was very much into the dark arts, as they say. Mind you, there’s a lot of that in these
sleepy little villages, Miss. Even in this day and age people have their
superstitions. Anyway, when Lady Cassandra was eighteen she was said to be the
most beautiful woman in England, and made her debut in court. She was betrothed
to one of James the First’s courtiers, but he threw her over for another lady.
After that, they say her heart grew bitter and black, and she turned to
witchcraft. She used to lure young lovers to the house, then cut out their
hearts and keep them in a jewelled box, to deny them the happiness she was
denied. Some say that on Halloween, you could see the box moving, as the
captured hearts still beat and struggled to escape.”
Caroline laughed. “Edgar Allen Poe eat your heart out.
Pardon the pun!”
“No, I don’t believe in it either, Miss. But it makes a
good story for guests and tourists in the area. Sadly it doesn’t do much for
the parlour maid situation. They caught her, naturally, and she was burned at
the stake. No one ever knew just how many young lovers had suffered at her
hands. She took that secret with her.”
“Lady Cassandra clearly hasn’t frightened you off. Do you
have any family, Stephens?”
“I did, Miss. My wife dead ten years ago. She used to be
the cook here. A wonderful cook she was too. No one could bake an apple pie
like my Elsie.”
“You must miss her a lot. Do you have any children?”
Stephens seemed to stiffen slightly. He turned away and
picked up the tray full of glasses again. “I have a son, Miss.”
“Does he work here?”
“My son was never one for being in service. He wanted
more from life. More than his poor mother and myself could give him. He left
here at the age of fifteen and has had little to do with us since. Went off to
be an actor, of all things. Broke his mother’s heart, it did. Not that I’d say
anything like that in front of the guests here this week. But, well, Miss, it’s
not a proper job like the one you and I do, is it? Not even if it is meant to
be a bit of fun. If you’ll pardon me for suggesting you and I are of the