Chapter Two
‘And this, everyone, is the famous Lucky Chalice of Ravendale. It was given to the owners’ ancestor by King Henry after he took shelter here on Christmas Day on his way to London.
The Lake District was a wild and dangerous place in the fifteenth century and the king was grateful for the Penhaligons’ hospitality.
He told them that the castle would never fall and the Penhaligons would always prosper as long as the chalice remained intact. ’
Having temporarily banished Flynn from her mind, Lara swept up the tour party with a winning smile. ‘As you can imagine, we look after the chalice very carefully indeed.’
Every eye was on the simple glass goblet in the display cabinet. A velvet rope kept visitors at a safe distance and – just in case anyone decided to do something weird – the glass was bulletproof and built to withstand a sledgehammer.
‘Bet it’s worth a bomb, eh, love?’ A man in a Santa hat smirked.
Even though there was still over a month to Christmas, Lara didn’t blame him for getting into the festive spirit early.
Besides, the castle was chilly at this time of year.
However, her heart sank at his comment about the value of the chalice.
‘It’s priceless to everyone at Ravendale,’ she replied diplomatically.
‘And has it ever been damaged?’ barked a woman from the rear.
Lara smiled. ‘Not as far as I know. Not bad when you think it’s been here for almost six centuries. Shall we move on to the haunted tower and then to the banqueting hall for mulled wine and warm mince pies?’
She led her tour party down the stairs, savouring the tang of wood smoke and pine wafting up from the banqueting hall where the refreshments had been laid out on the oak table by Ravendale’s catering team.
There were gasps as the guests gazed up at the vaulted ceiling with its coats of arms and floor-to-ceiling tapestries of medieval hunting scenes.
The mullioned windows were filled with vases of holly and fir collected from the estate, but it was the tree that drew the biggest ‘wows’ of admiration.
A twelve-foot spruce, it stood in the corner of the hall, its twinkling baubles and bows in shades of amber, red and gold.
Lara allowed herself a quiet glow of pride, having supervised its decoration herself.
Everyone gathered around the fire, enjoying the refreshments and chattering about the castle.
Lara answered countless questions about the legends and ghosts associated with the place, feeling the tension ebb from her body at last, relieved that the first festive tour of the season had been such a hit.
She still hadn’t worked out how she felt about Flynn returning.
They desperately needed a technical manager, with Gerald now off the scene, and she had no doubt Flynn would do a great job, but working so closely with him every day?
How would she cope with that when her every cell zinged whenever she looked at him?
With a professional smile still in place, Lara said her farewells to the tour party, several of whom had booked for the Winter Spectacular on the spot.
The catering staff collected the empty glasses and plates, leaving the oak table bare, save for an arrangement of greenery and the pewter candelabra.
Apart from the pop and crackle of the fire, it was blissfully silent. As she’d done many times, she almost had to pinch herself to believe that living and working in such a magnificent place was her job.
‘Lara!’
Fiona Penhaligon strode across the floor towards her, a large vase of holly and ivy in her arms. A willowy platinum blonde in her late sixties, her formal title was Lady Penhaligon but she refused to let any of the staff address her by it.
Her husband, Henry, was just as down to earth, considering he owned a massive castle.
Now was the moment to ask Fiona why Flynn had been appointed without her knowledge – as tactfully as she could.
‘Are you all right, my dear?’ her boss asked, placing the vase on the table with a concerned frown. ‘I do hope your first tour wasn’t too stressful. I passed some of the hordes on my way out. I must say they seemed very excited.’
‘It went well,’ Lara said, wondering how to introduce the subject of her new colleague. ‘Um, I think everyone really enjoyed themselves.’
‘Phew. That’s a relief, although I can’t say I’m surprised. You’ve worked terribly hard to organise all these events.’
‘Thanks. It’s always good to find that a plan works in practice. Christmas treats by the fire were very popular. Would you please thank Henry for lighting it?’
Fiona rolled her eyes good-humouredly. ‘Oh, he loves lighting fires. Sometimes I worry he’s a closet pyromaniac … Now, is there anything else I can help you with?’
Lara smiled again and took her opportunity. ‘Well, I hear that you’ve found a replacement for Gerald.’
‘You have?’ Fiona screwed up her nose in discomfort.
‘Yes, I – er – happen to have bumped into him earlier. He’d just arrived. It was quite a surprise.’
Fiona groaned. ‘Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. It’s all been so last minute. We only heard he’d accepted the job the day before yesterday and we were going to tell you, but with us only getting home from Hattie’s in London yesterday evening, there hadn’t been a moment.’
Hattie was one of the Penhaligons’ two daughters and was a sculptor who had an art gallery in the capital.
‘It’s OK. I know how hectic things have been,’ Lara said politely, seeing that Fiona seemed genuinely apologetic.
‘Even so, we really should have warned you. Actually, we had planned to ask you and Flynn up to the flat this evening so we can all get to know each other better. Even better,’ she added with a smile, ‘why don’t you come up to the flat at five and we’ll have a glass of wine together?
After all, we’re all going to be working very closely together, so we want to get off on the right foot. ’
Working very closely together. Lara’s nerve endings jumped.
There was a crackle from the pocket of Fiona’s ancient Barbour.
‘Sorry, must get this.’ She plucked a radio from her pocket.
‘Hello. Jazz. Yes, yes, I’m on my way now.
Give me two ticks!’ She listened to Jazz for a few seconds before turning back to Lara.
‘Sorry, Jazz needs me to finalise the menu for the reception. I must go. See you later in the flat. Well done, darling! You’re a star. ’
Lara could well imagine her friend and colleague, Jazz, tactfully trying to persuade Fiona to make a decision regarding the evening’s menu.
The reception was a PR and networking exercise for local suppliers, representatives from the tourist board, and hotel and accommodation providers.
It had been Lara’s idea as a way of showcasing Ravendale as an attraction at both Christmas and in the coming year ahead.
It was important it went well and that they convinced the invitees to add Ravendale to their list of recommendations to guests.
Lara didn’t see Flynn for the rest of the morning. Presumably he was settling into his cottage, and that afternoon she was busy dipping in and out of two more tours, conducted by other guides, to see how they were getting on.
As dusk fell, she took the chance to see how the light trail construction was going.
The cables, bulbs and generators littered the grounds.
The only illuminations at the moment were the harsh arc lights for the workforce as they hammered, banged and shouted to each other.
Relief filled her. Although the trail had been her baby, she was more than happy to hand the technical duties over to Flynn.
It was past four, so after calling into her cottage to shower and change her fleece for a smart jumper, she headed back to the tower for her final and most important task of the day: checking that the Lucky Chalice had been taken back from the display case to the treasury safe after the last private tour.
Lara trusted her guides, but her twelve years’ experience managing historic properties and treasures had taught her never to leave anything to chance.
In the quiet of the treasury, she unlocked the safe and took out the blue leather box from among the other precious items of silver and gold. She put the box on the table and opened the lid. The chalice, about the size of a large gin glass, was nestled inside.
It looked pristine apart from an almost invisible fingerprint on its stem. Reverently, she removed it from its case, checking that the prints were the only marks on it.
She shuddered at the idea of what it was worth, yet it truly was priceless as a symbol of Ravendale and of its centuries of history. It had survived sieges, battles, family feuds and two fires.
‘Lara.’
At the voice behind her, Lara started and lost her grip on the chalice. Time slowed down as it slipped through her fingers and tumbled through the air. With a soft thud, it landed on the oak boards between her feet.
‘Oh God, no!’
Her cry of horror echoed around the room and her heart seemed to stop before she fell to her knees. The chalice was all that mattered now.