A Ghost of a Chance
Chapter 16
The next morning, with almost
everyone present at breakfast, talk centered around another sighting of the
White Lady.
“I heard a noise and woke up,”
Miss Cranston said, “and while I waited for my maid to bring up some warm milk
– I am so delicate, I have trouble sleeping on my own – I glanced out the
window and there was the White Lady! I nearly fainted!”
“You poor dear!” Miss Thompson
said sympathetically. “You should have come to me. I would have protected you.”
“Are you not the sweetest
thing!” Miss Cranston cried.
Only Nera, seated next to Miss
Thompson, heard Miss Cranston’s next words.
“When I am countess I shall
never forget your kindness.”
Miss Thompson snorted into her
tea cup. “You’ll be countess over my dead body…” she murmured.
Nera made a note to keep an eye
out for these two young ladies. She did not trust them any further than she
could throw them. That was not far.
“I would like to see this White
Lady,” Mr. Thompson said.
“So would I,” Miss Wilkes chimed
in. “Rand has seen her any number of times, but I never have.”
“We should have a ghost hunt!”
Miss Cranston exclaimed.
“Oh, yes!” Miss Thompson clapped
her hands with delight.
“Oh, no!” Colonel Wilkes
interjected. “For one, sightings should be as special and as fleeting as the
ghosts themselves. Second, I do not want Miss Bianca’s abilities mocked or
cheapened in any way.”
“This is true,” the colonel’s
sister agreed. “But I should still like to see her.”
“If we conduct this carefully,”
Mr. Thompson, the younger, said, “we could both respect the ghosts and Miss
Bianca.”
“How do you propose to do that?”
the viscount, who had been quiet before this, suddenly asked.
“No more than one candle per
person,” the young man replied. “Move around in pairs. Be quiet and careful not
to violate the ghost or where it is usually seen.”
“I have heard that sometimes
renovations, or repairs, can rile a spirit, who thinks things should not be
changed,” Nera said. “Where is the White Lady usually seen?”
“In the long gallery, Miss Morrow,
and sometimes on the grounds,” the colonel said. “I have seen her both places.
If you do not think it a wise venture, please tell us. You and your sister are
much more experienced in these matters.”
“I for one wish to remain
removed from this undertaking, and I will advise my sister to do the same. I
cannot stop anyone else.”
“Then it is settled!” Miss
Cranston exclaimed. “We shall meet in the library at midnight and proceed from
there.”
“No, not the library,” the
viscount quickly insisted. “We will meet in the gallery. After all, that is
where the White Lady appears.”
“You are so clever,” Miss
Cranston simpered. “We will meet in the gallery.”
“Surely you are not going along with
this ghost hunt?” the colonel said to his cousin after the ladies decided to
sit in the garden with sketch books that morning and left the table in a flurry
of activity. The other gentlemen had also scattered, some to be with the ladies
and others because they did not want to be with the ladies.
“I must,” Drew replied as he and
Rand lingered over coffee. “As much as it pains me to do so. These are my
guests and I cannot allow them to ruin Sandwell just because they choose to go
haring all over it in the middle of the night. Someone has to ride herd on
them, especially Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson.”
“I do not like any of this,” the
colonel said.
“Neither do I, and although Miss
Morrow protested, I do hope she will join us, if only to lend a voice of reason
in the proceedings. Otherwise I am stuck sitting there with some silly nodcocks
waiting for a ghost who may or may not appear.” And that was an utter waste of
his time.
“You do not believe in ghosts,”
Rand pointed out to him.
“I have seen the White Lady a
time or two… I saw her last night,” he said slyly, not sure that apparition was
even the celebrated spirit of Sandwell.
“You did?”
“Or it might have been Miss
Bianca…”
The colonel turned red. “It
might have been, at that. The young lady says she had a difficult time sleeping
last night.”
“Have you turned psychic,
cousin?”
“Me? No. Why?”
“Miss Bianca did not join us for
breakfast this morning, and you have not yet had a chance to speak to her
today, have you?”
“Er. No.”
“Then how do you know she could
not sleep last night?” With a chuckle, he left his cousin turning bright red
and pulling at his collar while he went off in search of his grandmother. It
was just as he had thought, that the figure in white he had seen from his
window – and surely the same one Miss Cranston had spied – had been Miss
Bianca, especially after encountering Miss Morrow and hearing that her sister
had turned up missing.
Not that he could blame either
Rand or Miss Bianca. Their attraction to each other had been obvious from the
beginning, and it would be a good match, despite the young lady’s unfortunate
mother. He would be strong enough to protect her, and she was not all sweetness
and light, despite giving that appearance. Even Cousin Jenny did not seem
averse to her son’s choice, and Cousin Tamara enjoyed Miss Bianca’s company.
He found his grandmother having
a quiet morning meal with Mrs. Abernathy, but when he was announced, the
dowager’s guest excused herself to check on her younger niece.
“Bianca is still feeling a bit
poorly this morning, my lord, but I sent Nera off to sketch with the other
young ladies. I am perfectly capable of nursing my niece and Nera should not
waste the opportunity to be outdoors.” With a curtsy, she left the room.
Drew sat down at the table and
eyed his grandmother. “Miss Cranston has the hare-brained idea of lying in wait
for the White Lady tonight.”
“She is a foolish chit. I hope
you do not have your eye on her, Drew, for she would never do for you. Too
silly. As is Miss Thompson, I might add.”
“I have no intention of offering
for either young lady, Grandmama,” he assured her.
“You might not, but they have
other ideas. I have seen them. They are in fierce competition, and you are the
prize.” She reached over and patted his cheek. “And what a prize. I vow, when
you were born, you looked like a little monkey and I was certain you would grow
up the same.”
“Grandmama!” he exclaimed,
blushing.
“It is true! But look at you
now! So tall and handsome and commanding. It quite takes my breath away.” She
sighed. “If only Robert were here to see you. You were always a favorite of
his, you know, especially after… It was so sad to see him become more depressed
every day, it was almost a blessing to have him run off and do something with
his life instead of moping about here.”
“Do you think he is out there
somewhere?”
“Definitely! Miss Bianca assures
me he is not among the dead, so he must be amongst the living. Your father
would not be averse to his appearance, I know, but what about you? You would
lose status, Drew, make no bones about it.”
“I am well aware what Uncle
Robert’s appearance would mean, Grandmama, and I would much rather see him
return and take his rightful place as Earl of Sandwell than be Viscount Meare.”
“That is a very good answer.
After all, if he has no direct heirs, you would be earl eventually, anyway.
What are a few years?”
“Indeed. But I have not come
about that, truly. I wished to discuss this ‘ghost hunt’ with you.”
“I advise against it, but I suppose
there is no stopping some people.”
“I am afraid not, so I wish to
take some preventative measures to ensure the safety of our guests. One, I
believe you should lock yourselves into this wing for the evening, so that no
one wanders in where they do not belong. I hope to keep them contained to the
long gallery, but even the best plans go awry. If you like, you may have Rand
for the night for comfort. He would not mind bunking down here in one of your
guest rooms, especially if it meant keeping an eye on Miss Bianca.” He winked
at her and she smile brightly.
“That is a splendid idea!”
“I should like Miss Morrow,
however, to be moved to the family wing for the evening. She will be the voice
of reason in the face of a bunch of silly chits, and she can impart some of her
special knowledge without endangering her sister’s health.”
“You need to ask Miss Morrow
herself if she would be willing to move for the evening, and assist you in this
foolish endeavor,” his grandmother counseled. “I cannot speak for the lady, but
if she is smart, she will stay here and leave fruitless ghost hunting to
others. She and her family are much better suited for hunting the real kind.”
“Then the White Lady is not
real?” he asked.
“Of course she is real!” the
dowager insisted. “But she should be left alone. She bothers no one, poor soul,
so she should expect the same courtesy in return. It is the library I am
concerned about. Has anyone mentioned that room?”
“Miss Cranston suggested we meet
there this evening, but I redirected her elsewhere.”
Miss Morrow, bonnet dangling
from its ribbons, her cheeks brightened from the sun, a sketch book in hand,
came into the room, and Drew got instantly to his feet. “Good day, Miss
Morrow.”
“May I help you with something,
my dear?” the dowager enquired.
“I seem to have left some of my
pencils in here, my lady.” She crossed over to the sofa in front of the fire
and bent down to retrieve something. “Here they are. I will just…”
“A moment of your time, Miss
Morrow,” Drew requested. She paused and he indicated a chair at the table,
which she obligingly took. “I know you said you will have no part in tonight’s
activities, but I must ask you to reconsider.”
“It is a ridiculous venture.”
“I know that. You know that. The
colonel agrees. However, I must look out for my guests and their safety, so I
must attend. If I can make the evening as dull as possible, perhaps they will
be dissuaded from pursing this any further.”
“Are you calling me dull, my
lord?” She seemed more amused than angered, although he realized his words were
not exactly complimentary.
The dowager chuckled from behind
her tea cup and he shot her a glance that told her to behave. “Not at all. But
you will provide some sanity in this insane venture and I would appreciate your
help.”
“You are asking me for help in
persuading others that ghost hunting should not be initiated by the novice, and
should be left to professionals?”
“Yes.” That was not so difficult
to say as he thought it would be.
“Then I accept.”
“There is a condition…”
“What is it?”
“I need you to move into a guest
room in the family wing for the night. I have advised my grandmother to lock up
her wing so that no one disrupts the older ladies or your sister.”
She seemed to consider that, did not find the logic in it lacking, and nodded. “I will join you, and stay in the family wing for the night.”
“What are you doing up here?”
Miss Thompson sneered at Nera several hours later as she and one of the maids
carried a few of her belongings, and the kitten in its basket, into a
bedchamber on the same floor as the other female guests.
“There was a snake in my room
and I have been sent up here until they find it.” Nera could not resist that
one.
“A snake!” Miss Thompson shrieked,
bringing Miss Cranston and her mother to their doors across the hall.
“Snake? Where?” Miss Cranston
asked, looking up and down the hall with fear.
Nera saw Miss Wilkes slip out of
a room on the other side of Miss Cranston and throw a green sash at the other
girl’s feet. “Right here!” she exclaimed, giving it a shake to make it slither,
sending Miss Cranston screaming down the hall, her mother in shock – and hot
pursuit – behind her.
“That ought to keep her busy for
awhile,” Miss Wilkes said, winking at Nera. “And what are you looking at?” she
demanded haughtily of Miss Thompson. “Do you not need to lie down with some
Gowland’s on those freckles?”
Miss Thompson gasped and ran
into her room, calling for her maid to find some lotion or lemons for her face.
“How do you know Miss Thompson
has freckles?” Nera wondered, not able to see any marks on her face.
“I don’t,” was the reply,
followed by a smirk. She linked arms with Nera and went into the room with her,
where the dowager’s maid was setting out toiletries. “But she was not wearing a
hat when we were outside sketching earlier, so it could still happen. You are
moving up here? For good? I should love a companion nearby!”
Nera shook her head. “Only for
the evening. I am to participate in the ghost hunt after all, and do not wish
to disturb my sister.”
“Splendid of you to join us!
I’ll wager Cousin Drew convinced you.”
Nera blushed. “He said I could
help keep certain young ladies from tearing down Sandwell, at least.”
Miss Wilkes chuckled. “Those two
have been thorns in my flesh since we arrived. Miss Woodbury is a nice young
lady, but so shy, I have a difficult time getting two words out of her. I wish
you could stay. Mama would gladly be your chaperone.”
Nera was touched by Miss Wilkes’
overtures of friendship, but she was not certain staying more than one night
was wise. It would not do to get too comfortable amongst the true houseguests.
“What about leaving my sister? I
doubt she would be happy here and I should miss her.” They had never been
parted, really.
“Are you truly twins?”
“Yes, we are. Like night and
day, my father supposedly said after we were born, and my mother thought Nera
and Bianca would be good names.”
“I always wanted a sister,” Miss
Wilkes said sadly. “Perhaps one or two of my brothers will hurry up and marry
so that I might. After all, they are certainly old enough! Why, Rand is already
eight and twenty, and there is a brother even older than that! I came along
last, and Mama says I may take my time finding a good husband, but she dearly
longs for grandchildren and someone has to wed for that. At least, for
legitimate ones,” she clarified.
Nera stared at the girl for a
moment, and then laughed. “You were not jesting when you said you were a
plain-speaking family!”
“Sad, but true,” she replied
with an impish grin. “Please think about staying here, Miss Morrow.”
“I will,” she assured the other
girl. “And please, call me Nera.”
“All right, Nera – and I am
Tamara.”
“Tamara! What an interesting
name!”
“My grandmother was Russian, and
I was named after her.”
“Russian! How exotic!”
“She was, what I recall of her.
She loved wearing pearls, diamonds and furs, and in the winter she would travel
about in a beautiful painted sled. Rand remembers her better than I do, of
course, and he tells wonderful stories about her rather wild ways. We must get
him to repeat a few some day.”
Mrs. Wilkes put her head in the
room at that moment. “Tamara, dear, Lady Cranston says you scared her darling
Sophia, and I am supposed to chastise you for it.” She came in and smiled at
the girls. “Whatever you did, I should fuss, I daresay, but I cannot. Except
that the next time you upset her, please do it so that she runs into her own
room and does not come out for several days.”
“Yes, Mama,” Tamara Wilkes said
meekly, and then giggled. “Mama! Miss Morrow is to stay here this evening so
that she might participate in the ghost hunt! I am trying to convince her to
stay here for the rest of the party, and said you would not mind chaperoning.”
“Of course I do not mind,
Tamara, dear, but what about Miss Bianca?” She turned to Nera. “I hope your
sister is not going along with this scheme?”
“No, ma’am. She will remain with
the dowager. None of us wishes to upset my sister.”
“No, I imagine you do not.” She seemed
thoughtful. “In any case, I am glad to see you up here with us, as it has been
deadly dull with only Prudence’s sycophants and their nasty brats for company.
I should not say that about Miss Woodbury, of course. She could not even say
boo to a goose. But the other two! Merciful heavens!”
“Actually, Mama, Miss Morrow
started it…” Tamara shot Nera a playful look.
“I merely said the reason I was
up here was because of a snake in my room. Miss Wilkes’ only crime, as far as I
can tell, is throwing her sash at Miss Cranston. I do hope it did not injure
the poor girl in any way,” she said unsympathetically.
Mrs. Wilkes’ lips twitched.
“Yes, well, I suppose she will be all right, even if she refuses to go back to
her room. Perhaps someone will check her bedchamber before she retires.”
“Cousin Drew, perhaps?” Tamara
asked shrewdly.
“I sincerely doubt that, and if
he does, he is a bigger nodcock than I expected,” Mrs. Wilkes tartly replied.
“And if you two are going to track down the White Lady this evening, I suggest
you get some rest now, because it is doubtful Lady Sandwell will excuse
everyone from dinner and cards afterwards.” She shooed her daughter off to her
own room and Nera said she would take a nap.
Tell the truth, after being up
late the evening before, she was exhausted.
Dinner and cards went as
planned, and then it was time to assemble in the long gallery, which was on the
second floor of the family wing.
“I suggest we confine ourselves
to this area, for two reasons,” the viscount explained. “First, this is the
best possible place to see the White Lady, and second, I do not recommend
annoying either the countess or the dowager by running up and down the halls
all night. It makes for a couple of crotchety older ladies the next day, and
trust me, we do not want that.” He smiled at Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson,
who simpered back at him.
Nera was a bit disgusted by this
display, but she understood why the viscount needed to keep these two calm. She
knew first-hand how highly strung these young ladies could be. That made her
think of the sash snake and she hid a smile behind her hand.
“There are eight of us, so I
suggest we split into two groups of four, and position ourselves on either end
of the gallery.”
Nera and Miss Wilkes had tried
to convince Mrs. Wilkes to join them, but she said they were all touched in the
head and she was going to bed. That left the two Mr. Thompsons, Miss Thompson,
Miss Cranston, Miss Wilkes, Nera, the viscount and, surprisingly, Miss Woodbury.
Evidently she could say boo to a goose, or in this case, a ghost. Nera did not
hold out much hope for her lasting more than a few minutes, however.
Still, she gladly asked Miss
Woodbury to join the team she was forming with the older Mr. Thompson and Miss
Wilkes, leaving Lord Meare to deal with the others. They took the far end of
the gallery, as the other ladies were more likely to bolt, with the exception
of Miss Woodbury. As they were in a wing of the house, it had windows facing
inward, and the portraits were on the outside wall.
“Now is the most difficult part
of any ghostly investigation,” Nera explained as she made herself comfortable
on the bench placed opposite a picture of a gentleman in Restoration garb.
Evidently, while earlier Lamberts had been Papists, later ones had been
Royalists. “We sit and wait.”
“The fifth Lord Sandwell,”
Tamara said, indicating the dark-haired gentleman. “A crony of Charles II, and
by all accounts a randy rabble-rouser.”
Miss Woodbury gasped in shock
and Mr. Thompson’s eyes grew wide. Nera chuckled at both Tamara’s words and the
reactions of their companions. After all, the skeletons in her family’s closet
were even closer in relation to herself, and she was fast becoming immune to
such things.
“He was handsome enough, I grant
you,” she said conversationally.
“I believe Drew takes after him,
just a little, especially in the eyes and around that stubborn chin,” Tamara
clinically noted. “Would it not be amusing if he suddenly popped out of that
portrait and asked me to dance?”
“I doubt he is around,” Nera
said in a low tone, watching Miss Woodbury turn pale in the moonlight streaming
in through the Palladian windows. “But if he had any unfinished business, I’ll
bet I know what it was.” The two ladies looked at each other and laughed, but
softly.
“Miss Morrow?” the viscount
called from the other end of the room. “Will you begin?”
Nera stood and signaled her
group to remain where they were. “Keep an eye and an ear out, if you please.
Sometimes sounds are just as important as what you see. Moreso, in some
instances.” She walked to the center of the gallery and stood in front of the
portrait of a Lambert ancestor who had lived in the early part of the
eighteenth century, if her gown was any indication.
“Hello? Is there anyone here
with us tonight?” She paused. “We mean no harm, and we are looking for the
White Lady. Are you here? Can you give us a sign of some sort? Make a noise,
perhaps, or move something?”
The picture frame in front of
Nera made a slight rattling sound, and she smiled. Gasps could be heard, and
Miss Woodbury fainted. Nera looked at the viscount for guidance while Mr.
Thompson tried to quietly revive Miss Woodbury. Lord Meare shook his head, and
she returned to her partners.
“I believe you should take Miss
Woodbury to her mother, Mr. Thompson. I was not sure if she was up to this or
not, but she did make a brave attempt. I hope you will tell her so when she
comes around.”
“Yes, Miss Morrow, and I will. I
think she remained stalwart until that frame moved, and I confess I am not
quite myself after that, either.” He picked Miss Woodbury up in his arms and
carried her to the other end of the gallery, where she could hear him in
whispered conversation with the viscount, and then they were gone.
“If you do not mind, Miss
Morrow, I believe I will join Drew’s group now that ours has diminished,”
Tamara said, and Nera agreed that would be a good idea.
“Ask them all to come down here,
if you please. We should all be together now.”
Once they were reassembled beneath the picture of Lady Gerald Lambert in her powdered wig and panniers, Nera asked for silence and spoke the same words she had earlier. This time, they were rewarded with a white light that moved across the portrait and down to the doorway. They all stood there, transfixed, as it disappeared.
Miss Cranston only waited long
enough for the light to disappear before shrieking at the top of her lungs and
running from the gallery. No doubt she would go straight to her mother. While Nera
did not mind if Lady Cranston was woken or not, she knew the viscount did not
wish anyone to be disturbed. She touched young Mr. Thompson on the arm and
asked him to find Miss Cranston, calm her and escort her to her mother. He
readily agreed and was gone.
Miss Wilkes looked at Nera, the
viscount and Miss Thompson, the only ones who remained. Miss Thompson seemed to
forget, at least temporarily, her animosity towards Miss Wilkes, and suggested
they walk to their rooms together.
Only Nera was left with her
host. “That was no ghost,” she said.
“I had the same thought, Miss
Morrow, but what makes you say that?”
“You think that I believe every
little bump in the night or ever flash of light is a ghost, my lord? There are
spirits present when my sister says so, but other manifestations, when she is
not around, are always subject to my own hearty skepticism.”
“You, a skeptic, Miss Morrow?”
A week ago, she would have
lashed out at his sarcasm. Now she merely chuckled.
“It is true. Too many people
know what my sister can do and they often seek to ridicule her with fabricated
incidents such as we have just witnessed. I know that was not the White Lady.
Did you see the way the light broke off whenever it was passing wall and not a
window? Someone in the other wing is making a May game of us. Any ideas whom?”
she asked sweetly.
“You know whom, and most likely
why. I believe I will go have a chat with my cousin.” He cracked his knuckles
in anticipation.
Nera put a hand on his arm. “Not
tonight. You will only disturb Lady Eleanor and Aunt Muriel.”
“You are correct, Miss Morrow.
It would only upset the ladies. Even if they are most likely involved.”
Nera laughed. “I would not put
it past either of them.” She turned to look out the window, across the narrow
courtyard and rose garden and into the opposite wing. It was not that far for
someone with a large lantern, but there were no lights on now. Everything was
dark and quiet.
“I think they should pay for
this one,” the viscount said from her side.
Startled at his proximity, and
his train of thought, because she was thinking the same thing, she turned to
him. “They no doubt anticipated such an ending.”
“Exactly. Rand must have planned
this as soon as we decided to spend the evening here, knowing half the company
would faint or flee. He was fairly close in his assumptions, if that was the
case.”
“Poor Miss Woodbury. Was I
imagining things, or did that picture frame truly rattle?”
“It moved, Miss Morrow. I saw it
myself. Whether or not it was the White Lady, or someone else, however, we may
never know. At this point, do we care?” he softly wondered, his lips mere
inches away from hers.
“We kept them from wreaking
havoc on the whole house, and that was our goal,” she whispered.
“We should have common goals
more often, Miss Morrow. We work very well together.”
Before she knew what he was
doing, Lord Meare had brought one hand up to caress her cheek. She was
distracted by the gesture and did not realize his real intent until it was too
late, and his lips were on hers.
Nera leaned into the viscount
and sighed. She had never been kissed before, but this was exactly how she
always imagined it would be. She felt warm and safe in his arms, but just as
she wondered what it would be like to have this feeling forever, the vision of
her sister and Lord Meare popped into her head.
Oh, no! It had not changed one
iota, and she pushed him away none too gently, flooded with guilt over kissing
the man intended for Bianca.
“I … I can’t!” she cried and ran
from the gallery.
Nera did not pause to catch her
breath until she was safely in her room, but then had no idea how to proceed.
Did she wait to see what Lord Meare said to her the next day? Did she ignore
the kiss in the hopes the feelings it had aroused in her went away? Did she
make a concerted effort to bring her vision to fruition?
Still dazed, and confused, she
got ready for bed, certain she would mull this over and over all night long.
Instead, she fell asleep almost the instant her head hit the pillow.
Feeling a bit virtuous the next
morning as she plotted how to get her sister and Lord Meare together, Nera went
down to breakfast with Mrs. Wilkes and Tamara to find that none of the other
young ladies were up to anything more than trays in their rooms. Nera had
considered such a thing, but knew it to be cowardly both because of the ghost
and the kiss.
Now, however, she was
reconsidering her options. Lord Meare had looked at her intently over the top
of the newspaper he was reading, shrugged and went back to his paper when she
walked in. She felt Tamara’s eyes on her as they sat down, but the other girl
did not, thankfully, say anything.
“I understand you saw a ghost
last night, Cousin Tamara,” the earl said with a twinkle in his eye. Tamara
dimpled.
“Yes, indeed, Cousin Charles, or
what appeared to be one. I am not at all certain that flash of light was an
actual spirit. But whatever Miss Morrow said to the White Lady, something
responded by rattling Lady Gerald’s frame!”
“Lady Gerald, hmmm? Doubt it was
her, personally. She was reputed to be a deadly dull stick of a woman, and most
likely passed on as dutifully as she lived.”
“It could have been the fifth
earl,” Nera suggested. “We had been studying his portrait right before that.”
“It might have been old Rollo,”
the earl agreed with a smile. “He was a wild one! You must let me find you the
volume of family history from that era, Miss Morrow. You will find the family
fascinating!”
Nera thanked him, thinking she
could see if there were any Williams in that bunch, and turned to Sir Joseph,
who was slathering jam on a piece of toast. “Is Miss Woodbury quite recovered
this morning?”
“A damned lot of nonsense last
night, Miss Morrow, make no bones about it! Scared my Victoria out of her wits
and she does not show any signs of wishing to leave her bedchamber.”
“I am very sorry to hear that,”
the older Mr. Thompson, who had carried her to her family the evening before,
said. “Please extend my best wishes for her recovery.”
Sir Joseph nodded and went back
to his toast.
“Mine, as well,” Nera added.
“What we attempted last evening is not for the faint at heart, and I should
have advised her to stay away. Perhaps there might not be any more
ghost-related activities, my lord,” she addressed the viscount.
He sat his paper down completely
and stared at her. She turned pink under his gaze.
“I would like to be guided by my
guests, Miss Morrow. All of them. If Miss Woodbury is sensitive to such things,
perhaps she should be housed in the dowager’s wing with your sister.”
Nera stiffened. How dare he
speak like that to her! Of all of the insufferable…
“You are looking a bit pale,
Miss Morrow,” Mrs. Wilkes said kindly. “Perhaps I should escort you upstairs.
You could have tea and toast brought to your room.”
Nera stood, forcing all the men
at the table to follow suit. “Yes, ma’am, I believe that is an excellent
suggestion. Will you and Miss Wilkes join me? I should like the company.” With
a sniff, she lifted her chin high and stalked from the room, the Wilkes ladies on
her heels.
“Badly done, Drew,” she heard
the earl say to his son, but she did not wish to linger where she was not
wanted.
“The nerve of that man!” she
exclaimed when they reached her room. The Wilkes ladies wisely did not say
anything. Mrs. Wilkes silently settled Nera on the bed and Tamara rang for the
maid. “He is rude, obnoxious…”
“All men are at one time or
another, my dear,” Mrs. Wilkes soothed when she finally spoke. “But we put up
with them just the same.” She sat down next to Nera and put an arm around her.
“Especially those that we love, whether they are husband, lover, son, brother,
uncle, nephew or cousin.”
Nera lay her head on Mrs.
Wilkes’ shoulder and sighed. This was what it felt like to have a mother, she
thought as the older lady stroked her hair. “But I do not love Lord Meare,” she
insisted, and closed her eyes to inhale Mrs. Wilkes’ lavender scent, missing a
quick exchange between mother and daughter.
“Perhaps not, but you value his
opinion, I am certain. Drew is a nice gentleman, despite his faults, and I
would not wish you to get the wrong impression of him based on one rude
comment.”
Try several rude comments, Nera
thought, but she did not repeat herself aloud. “No, ma’am,” she meekly agreed.
“But why now? I have to get him and…” She paused, unsure whether she should
take these two ladies into her confidence. In her haste to tell someone,
anyone, of her vision, she completely forgot that they were related to her
largest obstacle.
“Have to get him what?” Tamara
asked, coming over and stretching out at the foot of the bed. “To like you?”
“No, not me. My sister. You know
what sort of talents my sister and my aunt possess? I am also gifted, but in a
completely different way. You see, I can sometimes get visions of the future.”
“Truly?” Tamara was wide-eyed.
“Just like your grandmother,”
Mrs. Wilkes said with a smile. “I have heard stories from Lady Eleanor, you
know, although we rarely saw the lady, and were much more familiar with Mrs.
Abernathy. So you have that gift. Have you seen something concerning your
sister?”
“Yes. She and I are at a ball –
downstairs, actually, because I recognized the room when we had waltzing
lessons. Lord Meare is bowing over my sister’s hand, and he has the most loving
smile on his face…” she said dreamily. “There is another gentleman in the
background but I do not know him. Yet.”
“And Rand?” Tamara asked. “Was
Rand there? And me?”
“I did not see any of you,” Nera
confessed. “But I know Lord Meare is destined for Bianca! How can it be otherwise?
Last night, I saw it again, and I knew it was still true!” She blushed, but did
not explain the circumstance where she saw the vision.
“Have you ever thought there
might be something else happening in that instance?” Mrs. Wilkes gently
enquired. “There might be others around, and there might be a very good reason
why Drew is bending over Miss Bianca’s hand that has nothing to do with love.”
“What could it be?” Nera cried.
“I have gone over as many possibilities as I can!”
“In the hopes it is not true?”
“Yes! No! I do not know!” Nera
was working herself into another confused state, and the ladies blissfully let
her be. There was a knock at the door, a tray was ordered, and Mrs. Wilkes told
the maid to let Mrs. Abernathy and Lady Eleanor know that Miss Morrow was under
the weather and not able to return to her room that day. The girl was to tell
the ladies they did not need to worry, and that she, Mrs. Wilkes, would
personally keep an eye on Miss Morrow.
Nera lay back on her pillows with a slight smile, even as she worried about her sister and the viscount. She, who had always been the one doing the mothering, could use some maternal attention from Mrs. Wilkes.
Chapter 19
Drew did not wish to be rude to
Miss Morrow, but she had brought it on herself. If she had come into the
breakfast room shyly, or at all hesitant to see him again, he would have been
more kind. He certainly would have found a way to assure her that the kiss they
shared was special to him. If she had even been defiant, in her usual manner,
he would have found a way to speak to her about what had happened. But when she
came in wearing an air of indifference, he knew she was not much better than
those Debutantes from Hell, Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson.
How dare she act as if nothing
had happened!
Yes, there were others around
them at the breakfast table, but he would not have been so crass as to speak of
their encounter in such a public forum.
After she left the room, and his
father chided him for his manners, he excused himself, saying he was not hungry
any longer. He caught his father’s reproachful gaze as he left, and
resolved to apologize to Miss Morrow the first chance he could. Despite her
disregard, he should never have spoken to her in such a way.
For now, however, he needed some
fresh air. There was a Greek temple in the garden that was a favorite retreat,
and he went in that direction. Fortunately, it was occupied by the very
gentleman he wished to speak to: Rand.
“Good morning!”
the colonel called brightly. Too brightly.
“It could be better.”
“What is wrong, cousin? Was it a sleepless
night spent in fear of ghosts?”
“There were no ghosts last evening,”
Drew said, “despite attempts to make it appear that
there were.” He was not going to give Rand the
satisfaction of knowing about the picture frame.
“No White Lady?”
“No, only pranksters afraid to show their
faces,” he calmly replied.
“You have to admit it was a good joke.”
“Oh, very good,”
was Drew’s sarcastic reply. “Anything
that causes one lady to faint and another to run screaming from the room is
always entertaining.”
“I am sorry you had to deal with that, but
you brought it upon yourself. I warned you that I would protect Miss Bianca,
and if it means dissuading others from these idiotic ghost hunts, I will.”
“You are well and truly gone, aren’t
you?” Drew asked with a grin.
Rand, the hardened soldier,
blushed. “She is everything that is good and kind
and the sort of female one feels as if he is protecting back home when he is on
the front line. A girl definitely worth fighting for, whether it is on the
Continent or at a house party in Somerset.”
Drew socked him affectionately
in the shoulder. “I never thought I would see the day that
the mighty Colonel Wilkes fell in love.”
“Believe it, Drew, and expect an
announcement concerning it before the end of your mother’s
house party. I will not leave here less than a betrothed man.”
Drew laughed. “I
can think of nothing I would rather hear.”
“Except perhaps your own engagement?”
Rand teased.
“To one of those young ladies?”
he scoffed. “Hardly. Miss Cranston is a crafty witch,
not to mention insane, Miss Thompson is a silly widgeon and Miss Woodbury is
scared of her own shadow. Tamara is a dear, but hardly my sort. I think of her
as a sister.”
“What about Miss Morrow?”
“What about her?”
“She is as worthy of attention as her
sister.”
“I think Miss Bianca received all the good
qualities of a lady, and her sister none,” he
sourly replied. She did not care for him, it was obvious.
“Drew! Do not say you have quarreled with
Miss Morrow!”
“You cannot fight with someone with no
emotions, no feelings toward you!” He
paced the temple in frustration.
“Now, Drew, I would wager Miss Morrow is
far from indifferent to you.”
“You do not know! You were not…”
He looked up to see Tamara coming across the lawn at a fast clip.
“There you are! Rand! Drew! You will never
guess what I just heard!” She climbed the steps into the folly,
flopped down on a stone bench and wiped a few stray hairs out of her face.
“What is it?” Rand
wanted to know, but Drew was a bit more reluctant to hear whatever gossip she
seemed willing to share.
“Do we really have to guess?”
“No, silly! I am more than willing to tell
you! But before I do, I hope you plan to apologize to Miss Morrow for your
attitude at breakfast, Cousin Drew. She is hurt by the way you spoke to her and
Mama is upstairs now plying the poor girl with tea and sympathy.”
Rand whistled. “If
Mama is on her side, Drew, you must have been horrid to that young lady!”
“What? She provoked me!”
“How so?”
Drew felt his cheeks grow warm. “I
would rather not say. But that does not excuse her for acting like she did.”
“And how was that?”
Tamara wondered. “She was nothing if not pleasant this
morning!”
“That is what I object to!”
he exclaimed. “If she had been timid or mutinous, I
would have understood! But her calm unconcern! That I cannot bear!”
He saw the siblings exchange glances.
“What did you do to Miss Morrow?”
Rand asked gently.
“God help me, I kissed her!”
he blurted out.
Rand and Tamara laughed
uproariously.
“It is not amusing!”
“It is when you know what I know!”
Tamara said in a sing-song voice.
Drew did not think they would be
able to rest until they heard what she had to say.
“Well?”
“Did you know Miss Morrow has visions of
the future?”
Drew nodded. He was not
surprised when Rand did, too. Anything Miss Bianca knew, evidently, so did his
cousin.
“Did you know she had a vision of here
even before they arrived?”
“She said she did.”
“Then I am not telling you anything new,
Drew!” Tamara exclaimed with a pout. “You
already know you are destined for Miss Bianca!”
“What?” the
gentlemen cried in unison.
“You didn’t know
that?” She brightened considerably at that
news. “Miss Morrow told mama and me all about it
this morning!”
“What did she say?”
Drew demanded. “I am fated for her sister?”
Tamara nodded. “Makes
no sense to me, of course, because everyone knows Rand and Bianca were drawn
together from the first. It’s as plain as the nose…”
“Yes, yes, but what exactly did she tell
you?” he interrupted. “What
in her vision makes you certain the gentleman is me?”
“I am not certain it is you, tell the truth,
but she said she pictured herself and her sister in a ballroom, and you were
there, bowing over Miss Bianca’s hand. That you had such a look of love
on your face. There was another man in the background, but she says she does
not know him.”
“And that leads her to believe that Drew
is going to offer for Bianca.”
“Evidently. She is quite heartbroken over
it,” Tamara explained to her brother with a
wink. “Now tell me that makes her indifferent!”
“It explains several things, at least,”
Drew mused. “She always appears so pleased when I show
any attention toward her sister.”
“You cannot blame her for wanting to help
out her vision,” said Rand, “but
it does not seem right. Drew could be bowing over Bianca’s
hand for any number of reasons. Who is the man in the background? A guest of
some sort?”
“I have to agree with Rand,”
Tamara said loyally. “Barring this morning’s
display of rudeness, Drew is always a perfect gentleman. He is no doubt asking
Miss Bianca to dance. Or congratulating her on her betrothal,”
she added with a grin.
“That is my intention,”
her brother assured her, and she squealed with delight and ran to hug him
around the neck.
“Rand! I knew you would be the one to give
me a sister! And Miss Morrow shall be part of the family, as well!”
“I am glad I may accommodate you, Tam,”
Rand dryly replied.
“I truly appreciate it! I want a sister,
and Mama will adore having another daughter!”
Drew let the two discuss their
future while he thought about his own situation. He needed to apologize to Miss
Morrow first, and then he needed to formulate a plan to not only keep Rand and
Miss Bianca together, but also use what he learned from Miss Morrow’s
vision to his advantage.
That was sobering. He had just
accepted that Miss Morrow had visions, without a single protest. And if there
were such things as visions that came true, then what about women who read
minds, and young ladies who could speak with the dead?
“What are we going to do now?”
Tamara asked, interrupting his thoughts.
“We are not going to do anything. Miss
Morrow must not know we have been discussing her.”
“Do you think I will go running back to
her and say anything?” Tamara sounded offended.
Drew just stared at her for a
moment, and she backed down, blushing. “Do not
even tell your mother that we know. I would rather deal with this myself,
without any outside assistance. As much as I adore you and your mother, this
has to be handled delicately.”
“What handled delicately?”
she asked, as if she did not already know.
Drew’s
reply was a wide grin.
Mrs. Wilkes shooed her daughter
out of the room, spent some time fussing over Nera and then suggested Nera
might wish to either take a small nap to refresh herself, or go for a walk.
Nera thanked Mrs. Wilkes for her kind attention, and chose the walk.
“You are very welcome, my dear, but it is
the least I can do. I am pleased to have nice ladies such as you and your
sister become fast friends with Tamara. She has been so lonely since her father
died and her brothers all went out into the world, and your kindness is
something we cannot repay.”
Nera was touched, and suggested
Mrs. Wilkes might wish to come on the walk with her.
“No, my dear. You run along. I thought I
would visit Lady Eleanor and Mrs. Abernathy. I have seen so little of them
since we arrived.”
Nera did not wish to spend time
with her aunt or sister, for the moment, feeling too vulnerable. Aunt Muriel
would know what she was thinking, and Bianca would just pick up on her general
overall worry. She did not want to make either of them anxious for her.
“If you would not mind, ma’am,
I should like to spend another night in this room, rather than return to Lady
Eleanor’s quarters. Could you tell them for me?”
“Of course! I am so pleased you have
chosen to stay!” She hugged Nera and suggested she might
take the northern path. “The woods are cool this time of day and
you might take your bonnet off without fear of the sun darkening your
complexion. Not that I am that concerned with appearance, mind you, but there
are others who would use such a thing to their advantage.”
With a wink, Mrs. Wilkes was gone.
Nera took the suggested path and
was pleased with the shady woodland walk. She took her bonnet off, and strolled
along with it trailing behind her by its ribbons, feeling more carefree than she
had in a long while.
After wandering about for
fifteen minutes or so, she reached a fork in the path and had to choose one.
The left appeared to circle back to the house, and the right had an unknown
destination, so she took it. To her surprise, it brought her to the back of the
hermit’s hut, which this morning appeared to be
dark and uninhabited.
“Hello?” she
called, but there was no answer. “Hello!”
Nera heard a slight noise, poked
her head inside and saw that the hermit was huddled on his sleeping pallet,
tossing and turning in his sleep. Was he ill? She went in, reached out a hand
and touched burning flesh. The poor man was sick. She was going to require
assistance. But who would help?
She ran through several
possibilities in her mind, but a sudden flash of the future showed the viscount
bending over the poor, ill hermit, giving him water to drink.
Nera hardly ever argued with the future, and in this case, it seemed to be futile and she set off in search of Lord Meare.
Nera went to look for Lord Meare
and after a few enquiries among the servants in the kitchen, found him in the
Greek folly outside, alone.
“There you are, my lord!”
she gasped, having run from the house. “You must
come quickly! The hermit is ill!”
“What?”
“Your hermit. He is sick and needs help.”
“Yes, of course, Miss Morrow. Let us
investigate.”
They went directly to the hut,
and she stayed outside when he went in. First, she was not exactly happy to be
in his company, yet, and second, there was not much room inside.
“We are going to need our housekeeper,
Mrs. Hammond, I believe, or if she will not come, I will send for the
physician, Mr. Parton,” he said when he emerged. “He
has a fever. How came you to this part of the woods, Miss Morrow?”
“I was going for a walk. But I had met him
before this. He is quite friendly, for a hermit.”
“Yes, well, my mother will be fashionable,
I suppose.”
The viscount did not seem to
care much for folks who lived in squalor on the edge of peoples’
parks, but as far as Nera could tell, this hermit was a tidy man. His hut might
have a plain wooden floor, but it was swept, and his pallet had been covered in
clean blankets.
“Will you stay here and I will fetch Mrs.
Hammond?” she asked. To her relief, he agreed, and
she went straight back to the house, only pausing once to turn around before
the hut was out of sight. She saw Lord Meare going back inside, and she knew he
could not be all that bad, no matter what she thought of his behavior that
morning.
Mrs. Hammond was immediately
sympathetic to the hermit’s plight, and when she arrived at the hut
with her bag of medicinal supplies, she went straight in without batting an
eyelash at the living conditions. Nera was summoned to follow, and she found
Lord Meare giving the man water, just like in her vision. Mrs. Hammond,
however, was staring at the sick man as if she had seen a ghost.
“Are you all right, Mrs. Hammond?”
she asked, coming to that lady’s aid and settling her on the top step
just outside the door.
“I am just imagining silly things, Miss
Morrow. Will you do as I direct you so I may sit out here for a moment? Hand me
my bag.”
Nera did as she was bid, and was
soon mixing herbs in a cup with some wine, and handing it over to the viscount
to pour down the ill man’s throat.
“That is all I can do for now. Shall I
send a man out, my lord, to keep an eye on him and give him more later?”
the housekeeper suggested.
“An excellent idea, Mrs. Hammond. We will
stay here until he arrives, and give him instructions.”
The housekeeper curtsied,
bundled up her bag and went back to the house, leaving Nera and the viscount
alone, save for one ill hermit in the hut behind them.
“Thank you for your quick handling of the
situation, Miss Morrow,” he said.
“It is only what a good Christian would
do, my lord.”
“Can you see Miss Cranston doing something
like this?”
Nera had to bite her lip to keep
from saying something uncharitable toward Miss Cranston.
“Exactly. And while we have a few moments
alone, Miss Morrow, may I apologize for my behavior this morning? Just because
you chose to be indifferent towards me does not excuse my harsh words, and I am
sorry.”
Nera stared at him. Did he
realize just how smug and pious he sounded, even as he insulted her in the same
breath? Insufferable man!
“How noble of you, my lord, to take the
high road. I wish I could accept your apology, but I do not understand what you
mean by indifferent. Indifferent to you how? Because of last night? Are you
such a spoiled rotten young man that you think I would immediately fawn all
over you this morning for showering me with your attentions the evening before?”
Her voice was getting higher, but she did not notice. “Or
act the shy maiden just because that was my first kiss?”
“That was your…”
“Do not interrupt!”
she commanded. “Or were you so certain that you could
take more liberties with me, that you expected some sign that it was all right
for us to make more assignations?” She
moved until she was right up in his face and had a finger pushed into his
chest. It did not go very far – his chest was firm –
but it was the gesture that counted. “If you
are going to jump to your own conclusions as to my feelings, then do so on your
own time, and do not lash out at me when I do not act the way you think I
should!”
With a scowl, Nera turned on her
heel and stalked off toward the house. The viscount could deal with the footman
on his own. He was good at telling people where to go, what to do and how to
act.
“I just passed Miss Morrow in high
dudgeon, Drew,” Rand noted as he and a footman arrived
at the hut with several blankets, a jar of beef broth from the kitchens and a
packet of herbs. “Is she all right? Mrs. Hammond corralled
me into helping out, says the hermit is ill? How did you know?”
“Miss Morrow discovered him. Seems the termagant
has previously made his acquaintance, found herself in this part of the woods
and stopped in for a chat, only to discover he was ill. As for Miss Morrow
herself…” He indicated the footman with a nod, and
Rand waited until everything was settled and they were walking back to the
house before bringing up the subject once more.
“Your courting skills leave much to be
desired, cousin, if you are going to leave Miss Morrow in a taking every time
you encounter her.”
“Shut up, Rand. I am not happy about this.
She told me I am spoiled! Me!” To his chagrin, Rand laughed.
“Well, you are.”
“Am I?”
“Oh, certainly. What young nobleman in
England is not, these days? A large house, plenty of servants, enough of the
ready to indulge yourself where you please… How
much do opera dancers cost these days, Drew?” he
teased.
“Too damn much, which is why I don’t
have one at the moment!”
Rand laughed once more. “See?
It is not as if you never kept one. Spoiled rotten, I’d
say. You need to start thinking of Miss Morrow instead of yourself. I get the
impression she is always doing for others, like helping out the hermit, or
worried about her sister and aunt. Why don’t you
try taking care of her instead? Not only would that take the wind out of her
sails, but she might actually like you instead of wishing you to Jericho.”
“It is that simple?”
Drew was all astonishment.
“It probably will be. Miss Morrow has a
tough exterior, but inside she is most likely as soft and sensitive as any
female. It is up to you, Drew, to bring that side of her out, and then nurture
it.”
“I have never nurtured anything in my
entire life!”
“Not true, cousin. When we were young, you
were the one who was always in the greenhouses, loved helping the gardeners
start seeds and such. What is that if not nurturing? And who can forget old
Linus? That puppy would have died had you not brought it into the house to
raise, and he lived to be a ripe old age.”
“But Rand, Miss Morrow is neither a puppy
nor a seed.” He felt he needed to point out the
obvious.
“Isn’t she?
Like a pup, she requires careful handling, and plenty of affection, as well as
the basics such as food and water. Consider her a seedling that needs sunlight,
Drew, and you will have no trouble bringing her around.”
“Sunlight, handling, affection…”
The thought of handling Miss Morrow sent his mind off track for a few moments.
“Figuratively, Drew, not literally,”
Rand counseled. “Honestly, you would think you had never
been in love before.”
“I haven’t. Not
truly. And those opera dancers don’t count.”
“I was not including them. I do seem to
recall a tendre you developed a few years ago for a Miss Lance. Were you not
even the least bit in love with her?”
“Not like this, Rand. I never thought much
about Miss Lance when we were not in company together. I think about Miss
Morrow all the time!”
Drew found his shoulder patted
sympathetically. “You have it rough, my friend. But not to
worry. There is still another week or so before your mother’s
big announcement, and you have that time to fix her interest.”
Drew groaned. “My mother! She would never accept Miss Morrow!”