Five years later . . .
In the summer of 1836, Lord Brent and Lady Willow Cassin welcomed the king and queen of England to Caldera Castle.
His Majesty King William IV and Her Royal Highness Queen Adelaide, along with a retinue of courtiers and five of the king’s illegitimate daughters, made the journey to soothe the king’s troublesome joint pain in Caldera’s Roman baths. After two years of society’s enthusiastic talk about the castle, they also came to see what all the fuss was about.
Willow could not have been more pleased. Her goal for the refurbished Caldera Castle had been regal and majestic, with a colorful dash of drama and magic thrown in. The result seemed to please even the most discerning guests. Some came to take the waters, others would come to explore the Roman ruins, but still others, she knew, would thrill to simply spend a few nights in a romantic stone castle, with bright pennants snapping from the turrets and a cavernous great hall. Never did she dream that the king and queen, both in full possession of their own romantic castles, would be curious about the stunning but small (if she was honest) Yorkshire estate. But certainly she did not complain.
The trickle of curious local gentry who patronized the castle in the early days had eventually turned into a steady stream of wealthy patrons from all over England; London especially, with a few guests traveling from the world abroad. Perhaps it was only a matter of time until they were patronized by the king and queen.
“Willow, Willow, Willow,” called Cassin’s youngest sister Marietta, skidding into the castle library in the family wing. Willow, Ruth, Cassin, and his middle sister, Violet, were bent over a checklist, going over last-minute protocol for the royal visit.
Willow smiled at her sister-in-law. “Oh, look at you, Marietta; how lovely. Your mother and I were right about the green dress.”
“The dress is pretty,” conceded Marietta, “but what about my hair?”
Willow gave her a dismissive wave. “Perry will do everyone’s hair.”
Marietta looked incredulous and began to tick off Perry’s current burden. “Mama’s headdress, Juliana’s bun, Violet’s chignon, Ruth’s funny hat, and your . . . your . . . ” She crinkled her nose. “It’s far too much, even for Perry,” she exclaimed.
“No amount of hair is too much for Perry, I assure you. Seek her out upstairs, and ask her to begin.”
Marietta began backing away. “But when will King William arrive?”
“We won’t know until the Royal Guard sends a herald ahead,” Cassin sighed, “a condition that has already been explained to you. It’s impossible to say, exactly. Go away before we give you a job to do.”
Marietta made a face and then darted away.
The role the family played in Caldera’s new identity had been strange to navigate. Even Cassin complained that he was the only earl in England who also worked as an innkeeper. In truth, the finances of managing the hotel had appealed to him, and inviting curious outsiders into his beloved Caldera was an unexpected source of pride. It did not hurt that Willow’s restoration of the castle took his breath away. The grandeur of the great hall, combined with Willow’s signature dash of whimsy and quirk, made a dazzling impression on every guest. He was eager to share the majestic splendor of his home.
And while two of his sisters, Marietta and Juliana, showed no particular interest in the day-to-day running of the hotel, his sister Violet had been almost immediately drawn in. Before they could hire a steward to oversee bookings and guest relations, Violet stepped up to prove her own proficiency at soothing rumpled feathers and making certain every guest received unrivaled service.
This, taken with Ruth’s popular guided tours and lectures about Caldera’s Roman ruins, meant the title of “innkeeper” was well worth any perceived humility. Meanwhile, Cassin’s mother, along with Juliana and Marietta, carried on very much as they always had in the family wing, only they enjoyed a steady stream of London visitors, which now included the king and queen.
“I’ve prepared a brief and lengthy version of all of my lectures and walks,” Ruth said, pulling Cassin’s and Willow’s attention back to the list. “It’s impossible to guess what may interest the king and queen or what their courtiers may want, but I can make changes as needed.” She bit her lip. “I do hope they’ll wish to sit in on at least one lecture.”
“I will encourage them,” Violet assured her. “His Majesty was a military man before he became king; surely he will be interested in the conquering Romans.”
“One thing is certain,” Willow cut in. “They will all wish to take the waters. I’ve had the bathhouse cleaned ahead of schedule, so the mosaic and pools will appear second to none.”
Perhaps the most satisfying part of transforming the castle into a resort was the countless jobs provided for tenants. Mining coal was soon forgotten when Cassin provided steady, well-compensated work for bathhouse attendants and repairmen, farmers to grow food for the lavish resort menu, and kitchen staff to prepare it. The resort required countless footmen, grooms, stable hands, laundresses, maids, porters, and even nursery maids. Instead of risking their lives in the underground danger of damp coal mines, the tenants now worked together to share Caldera with the world.
“I think that just about covers it,” Cassin said, remounting his pen. “Violet, Ruth, can you excuse Willow and me for a moment?”
The two women hurried away, invigorated by the task of hosting the monarch. When they were gone, Willow said, “I still can’t believe how well Violet has taken to managing the staff and guests.”
“I can,” said Cassin, dropping into his chair. He held out his hand to her. “She was always bright and bossy. Not unlike someone else I know.”
Willow narrowed her eyes playfully and allowed him to tug her into his lap.
“There are worse qualities in a woman than cleverness and leadership.” She wrapped her hands around his neck and slid her fingers into the back of his cravat.
“I would not have it any other way,” he said. “But may I ask you something?”
“No, you may not seek out your uncle and gloat about receiving the king.”
Cassin made a disgusted sound. “Good lord, it was never that. The less said to him, the better.”
After the embarrassing work of dismantling the joint-stock company, Archibald had eventually allowed his avarice for Caldera to die away. The tenants were gainfully employed in the castle and no longer listened to his rants, and the success of the hotel could not be denied.
The estate would still go to one of Archibald’s sons upon Cassin’s death; there was no getting around that fact. But as soon as Cassin saw the potential of Willow’s idea, he made it his goal to build Caldera Castle into the most prestigious, highly coveted resort in all of England. Before his eventual death, Cassin hoped to have built Caldera into such a money-making, world-class institution that no cousin would dare shut it down. Considering its success, he was well on his way. In the meantime, Cassin had used surplus income from the guano venture to develop property elsewhere in Yorkshire that would belong to him, free and clear. After his death, that estate could be a home to any remaining dependent who found fault with the subsequent Earls of Cassin.
But now Willow stilled her hands on his neck and frowned. “If it’s not Archibald, what do you want to ask?”
“I’m simply wondering what my diligent wife will do after the royal visit,” he said.
“Collapse?” Willow laughed. “Take a holiday at someone else’s hotel? What do you mean?”
“It’s merely that you’ve done everything you set out to do when you redesigned the castle. The property is breathtaking, and the hotel is, obviously, a success. I worry you might grow cagey or bored, now that it’s all finished, without new projects to occupy that clever, bossy mind of yours.”
“Oh, that . . . ”
“I’ll not have you hanging new advertisements because you’ve grown weary of redecorating the rooms of Caldera, as you did with Leland Park.”
Willow chuckled and cinched her arms tightly around his neck, resting her chin on his shoulder. “How could I ever grow bored or weary around this lot?” she whispered into his ear. “Besides, there is always some creative new improvement to be done. You have charged me with maintaining a five-hundred-year-old castle.”
“I’m serious, Willow,” he said, although his voice broke because she had begun to slowly nibble on his ear.
“Please don’t worry about me,” she said, snuggling closer. Cassin made a growling noise and scooped her more tightly into his lap. “We are in London often enough that I might find an interesting project to work on here or there. There is one I have been eyeing for quite some time. If only I had a way to introduce myself to the future owners and demonstrate my talents.”
“Is that right?” he mumbled, seeking out her mouth. “And what project is that?”
“Just a small residence currently under construction.” She kissed him. “Perhaps you’ve heard of it? It’s called Buckingham Palace.”