A Ghost of a
Chance
Nera had dampened her anger down to a slow simmer later that afternoon as she made her way to the dowager’s apartments. The nap had done her a world of good, but she still missed Bianca’s calm presence, her aunt’s wisdom and even Lady Eleanor’s enthusiasm for life. Mrs. Wilkes did not even try to prevent her, despite her earlier advice.
“Look who has come to visit!” the dowager exclaimed as Nera was admitted to the parlor. A cup of tea was poured for her and she was made to sit between the two older ladies on the sofa. “How are you finding the accommodations, my dear? Are they to your satisfaction?”
Nera would like nothing better than to crawl into the soft bed she shared with her sister at home, or even the one she and Bianca shared in her first room here. But she did not wish to upset Lady Eleanor or want her to think Nera ungrateful.
“They are very much to my liking, my lady, and the proximity of the Wilkes ladies also is to my liking.”
“I thought you might enjoy their company.” The dowager beamed, as if she had planned it all herself.
“I hear last night did not quite happen as planned?” Aunt Muriel asked.
“Does anything ever go as expected?” she enigmatically replied. “I found it amusing to see the White Lady disappear every time she passed a wall instead of a window, but Miss Cranston did not. Earlier, Miss Woodbury fainted when one of the portraits rattled, but that, I believe, was a legitimate reaction.”
“One of the frames moved?” Aunt Muriel was all attention.
“Which one?” the dowager wondered.
“Someone named Lady Gerald.”
“Oh, her. A dull stick, really, and I ought to know. She was my late husband’s aunt, and lived here for years. The Lamberts have always done that, you know – let multitudes of family members live willy-nilly about the place and sponge off the earl and countess. I put a stop to that after the last of the old ones died off. What other news do you have from the house party?”
“Not from the party, perhaps, but I have been helping take care of the hermit.”
“Why?” the dowager asked sharply. “What has happened to him?”
“He has taken ill, is all, and no wonder, really. Did he spend all winter in that hut?”
Lady Eleanor shook her head. “No, he did not move in until recently. Prudence would have her hermit, you see, so I found her one.” The dowager’s eyes sparkled with mirth, but Nera did not get the joke. “But if he is sick, Muriel, you and I should go see how he fares. After all,” she told Nera. “I feel responsible for him.”
Nera supposed it was because the countess had gotten the hermit the hut in the first place, but the lady was also kind and seemed the sort to help anyone who needed it. Except sponging relatives, perhaps. Aunt Muriel was much the same, and would visit the sick in their own village, as well as help out the poor in the parish.
Her heart warmed at the thought of these two ladies assisting the hermit.
“I believe I will see what Bianca is doing. Is she in her room?” And suddenly, it was no longer their room, but her sister’s room. Nera did not think she was going to come back to it now.
“Yes, dear.”
“Late night?” she asked with a smile, wondering if her sister had been involved in the White Lady prank.
“Rand insisted she go to sleep early,” Aunt Muriel said, and Nera did not miss that she used the colonel’s Christian name. “Such a nice gentleman, dear, and so devoted to our Bianca. I believe they will make a match of it.”
“But they cannot!” she exclaimed.
“Whyever not?” Lady Eleanor wondered. “They are both of good families, Rand is more than able to provide for a wife, despite his current occupation, and most importantly, they are in love with each other. Happens so quickly sometimes, does it not, Muriel?” she asked with a reminiscent sigh.
“And with a little help from one’s friends,” Aunt Muriel replied with a wink. “William would not give Eleanor the time of day at first, as well he should not have – she was a scrawny, sickly thing and not hardly worthy of a viscount’s notice.”
Lady Eleanor was a rather plump lady, and Nera found that difficult to reconcile with the picture she got of a skinny girl.
“I daresay I would not have even made it through school if it had not been for Muriel and your grandmother. Their insights were not used just for schoolgirl tomfoolery, you know. They also used them to steal food from the kitchens to fatten me up.” She patted her ample hips. “Worked very well.”
“You stole food?” Nera asked her aunt, incredulous.
“I’m not exactly proud of that, but it was necessary. Our parents had no notion of the conditions of that place, and all letters home were read before sending, so it was impossible to alert them. Poor Eleanor would have starved to death! Someone had to feed her!”
“You poor thing!” Nera exclaimed. “It must have been fate that sent you all to the same school.”
The older ladies exchanged amused glances.
“Your grandmother insisted she and Muriel go there because she had a vision about me, and somehow the name of the school was there for her to see. I shall always be grateful for such a gift, child, so do not discount your own talents.”
She patted Nera on the shoulder, said they should get some soup from the kitchens on their way out and to have a nice time visiting her sister.
“Nera!” Bianca had been lying down, but when her sister knocked and announced her presence, Bianca was immediately at the door. Nera could see the indentations on the silk counterpane where Bianca had been resting.
“I did not interrupt your nap?”
“Not at all! I was lying here feeling rather sorry for myself that I had no company. And I am not the least bit tired. Shall we go to the library?”
“All right.” Again, Nera had the feeling that she was the intruder in the room, that she could not come back and have everything be the same as it had been. She found it unsettling.
They went to the library, which was quiet, and had fewer stacks of books than usual.
“William has not been very busy lately,” she noted.
“No, I believe he is winding down to what he really wants me to know and do, and then we shall be able to get everything settled. William?” she called. “You know my sister.”
One of the stacks of books wobbled, and then half the stack was lifted and hovered just inches from the floor. Nera curtsied in that direction. “Good afternoon, Lord Sandwell.”
Bianca gasped and the books landed with a loud noise. “How do you know he is a Lord Sandwell?”
“I perused the portraits in the gallery. There are very few Williams, surprisingly. The most current one was Lady Eleanor’s husband. You are her ladyship’s husband, are you not?” she asked.
A sigh filled the room. Bianca smiled.
“Nera! You are so clever!”
“He could have just told you! It should not be that big a secret. Or is it? And why?” she asked the room. “Because you do not want your family to know, obviously. We just need to ask a few questions, Bianca, and see if he will respond. I have a couple of theories, but they are just that.”
“I have been thinking, as well. If the answer is yes, put a book away on the shelf, William. If it is no, you may start a new pile. Agreed?” A book was moved to a shelf.
“What if he is just putting books anywhere?” Nera wondered.
Bianca shrugged. “We cannot worry about cataloging now. Besides, I have watched the servants try to clean all this up and they have been putting things away with no rhyme or reason for days. First question, William,” she continued. “Is Lord Meare your grandson?”
Another book flew to the shelf. The sisters smiled at each other.
“Do you know where your elder son is?” Nera asked.
A third book joined the first two. Bianca gasped.
“Are you waiting for the right moment for him to appear?” A fourth book was added.
“Are we hampering your plans in any way?”
A stack was begun on the floor. Nera smiled, but Bianca’s next question took her by surprise.
“Shall I accept Col. Wilkes’ offer of marriage?”
“This is not an oracle, Bianca!”
“Next best thing,” her sister said with a shrug and was rewarded with a book being set on the shelf.
“But my vision says your intended is Lord Meare!” Nera blurted out.
Bianca stared at her and there was silence for a moment before three stacks of books toppled to the floor. Evidently she had caught William by surprise, as well.
“What?” Bianca dragged her over to the sofa, question and answer time over for the moment. “Tell me what you saw!”
“I will, and I will also tell you now that the vision has not changed since the first time it appeared, which was before we even arrived. I recognized Lord Meare immediately upon meeting him, of course, but I did not know it would take place here until we went into the ballroom. I saw you and me in the ballroom, during a dance, and the viscount was bending over your hand.”
“That could mean anything. Perhaps the colonel was at my other side and you could not see him.”
Nera had not thought of that. “That is possible, but Lord Meare’s expression was definitely that of a man smitten with a young lady. I cannot describe how I know that, since I have no personal experience and I have also never seen that look on his face since we have arrived.”
“See? Then he has no such feelings for me. What else did you see?”
“Another man, behind him. A stranger. No one in this house party, for certain.”
“How odd, but not unheard of. Surely Lady Sandwell will be inviting others to her announcement ball.”
“That must be it. I do not understand where he comes into all this, but certainly time will tell. What do I do about the vision?”
“Nothing,” Bianca counseled. “It will take care of itself, surely. But why did not you not say something to me sooner? We certainly could have enjoyed a good laugh, at least.”
This was true. “Because I wanted to give the viscount a chance. Especially when the vision never changed. You know how infallible something like that is when it doesn’t alter.”
“I have news for your vision, then,” her sister said with unusual force. “I am going to accept Colonel Wilkes and there is nothing it can do to stop me. I am still not so sure it plans to stop me.”
“So we are truly drifting apart,” Nera said sadly, and her sister gave her a fierce hug.
“Just taking different paths, dearest. Nothing will ever part us completely. We are much too bound together for that. Do you believe that?”
Before Nera could answer, a book settled itself on the shelf next to the others. Yes. Evidently William felt the same, and the sisters laughed and hugged each other.
All of the dowager’s party went to dinner that evening, Nera in the company of Mrs. Wilkes and Tamara. The colonel had gone down earlier to escort Lady Eleanor, Aunt Muriel and Bianca, and while Nera knew her sister to be adamant about the colonel’s intentions, she would remain vigilant. Fate would think nothing of breaking a few hearts to get what it wanted, and Nera wished to be close by if her sister needed a friend.
In the meantime, she would say nothing to the Wilkes ladies, but let the colonel and Bianca make their own announcements. She did not wish to steal their thunder or put the cart before the horse. Anything could happen in the week before the ball.
Speaking of balls, Nera had returned to her own room that afternoon to dress for dinner and found a large box on her bed with her name on it. Inside was a white silk gown, and included was a card:
Never let others judge you by another’s actions. Lady E.
There was a knock at the door and she found Tamara standing there, a wide smile on her face. Nera looked down to see she was still clutching the gown.
“Is this for the ball?” Tamara asked excitedly.
“Yes, it just arrived.” With a discreet motion, she hid the note, determining to tuck it away later in her dressing table drawer.
“It was delivered up here? You must be staying!” Tamara squealed with delight. “Let’s see you in the gown! It is beautiful!”
Nera did not need to be asked twice and began to unbutton the front of her day dress while Tamara held the white silk in front of her at the cheval mirror.
“I have a pretty pink satin with rosebud trim that I shall be wearing, but it is nothing to this! Of course, Mama is having all new gowns made in London for the season and I cannot fret. I have a feeling Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson will be giving their London ballgowns an airing on Friday night and that is too bad for them.”
Nera, who wished she could have a season in town, but was unlikely to get one, did not see the logic in that, and said so.
“If they wear them this week and the other guests see them, and then meet them again in London in the same gowns … That spells social disaster for what Drew calls the Debutantes from Hell.”
Nera choked. “He called them what?”
“The Debutantes from Hell. Oh, and speaking of Drew, I am to tell you to dress in warm day clothes for dinner tonight. We are going on a hay ride.”
“A what ride?” She had to admit her mind was still picturing Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson surrounded by fire and poking the viscount with pitchforks, and she giggled. “An apt description of those two,” she explained. “But I do not understand about this evening.”
“We are all to dine al fresco, according to Rand, and then the hay wagon will take us for a ride, culminating in our evening tea in the woods around a bonfire.”
“How… unique.” She had not ridden in a hay wagon in years. “I had no idea this was even being planned, especially after last night’s fiasco.”
“As I understand it,” Tamara said, bringing the ballgown to Nera and throwing it over her head, “this was planned from the beginning, before the ghostly activities got out of hand. He decided to go ahead with it, as it was all arranged.”
Nera was told to turn about so Tamara could button her up the back, and when she caught sight of herself in the mirror, she had to gasp. She looked almost beautiful!
“Lovely!” Tamara agreed, looking over her shoulder at the reflection. “It must have taken the dressmaker ages to make something this exquisite.”
“Actually, no. I had no idea it was even being created, but it is a gift from Lady Eleanor, so it must have been ordered when we arrived.”
“Lady Eleanor is a generous woman. She is my godmother and once she sent me a bolt of blue silk for a fancy dress. I was thirteen, and I thought she was the most wonderful lady in the world, next to my mother. Like a fairy godmother, really, because I had been praying for a grown-up gown. Mama had it made into an evening dress for me and allowed me to come down to family dinners after that. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world! I always imagine that is how it feels to fall in love,” she softly added, twitching Nera’s hem into place.
“I wish I knew.”
“Me, too! I want to go to London, meet the perfect gentleman, fall in love and live happily ever after!” Tamara flopped backwards on the bed and smiled up at the brocade canopy over her head.
“No man is perfect,” Nera said. “No woman, either.”
“All right, then, I’ll take the near-perfect one!”
Nera did not know what to say. She did not think there were any of those out there, either.
They put away the ball gown, found Nera appropriate clothes for the outing and went down in the company of Mrs. Wilkes. Nera had determined to ignore the viscount, and it seemed luck was with her. He was busy seeing to the logistics of the planned activity, and she was settled at a small table on the terrace with Mrs. Wilkes and Tamara.
After snapping at him earlier, she did not think she could conduct a civil conversation with him, so the seating arrangements suited her fine. The only older members of the party were to be Mrs. Wilkes and Mr. Thompson. Everyone else remained indoors for a traditional evening of dinner and cards.
The limited amount of chaperones lightened the mood of the younger people, and Nera was pleased to see the Mr. Thompsons had dedicated themselves to bringing Miss Woodbury out of her shell. Bianca sat with Colonel Wilkes. Lord Meare was ostensibly seated with Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson, but kept himself busy supervising the meal and moving from table to table to speak to his guests.
When he reached Nera’s table, he concentrated his attention on Mrs. Wilkes, and that also was acceptable to her.
“What a novel idea this was, Cousin Drew!” Tamara exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm. “I cannot wait for the bonfire!”
He smiled indulgently, saw that food was being brought out and excused himself without once looking at Nera. She told herself it was what she wanted, but she was also put out that he had not even acknowledged her.
She was even ignored by him later, when the hay wagon arrived. He assisted simpering Miss Cranston and giggly Miss Thompson into the cart, and then asked the other gentlemen to help everyone else while he spoke to the driver. The more he avoided Nera, the more she seemed inclined to promote the colonel’s suit with her sister. She did not want Lord Meare for a brother! Just this once, she wanted to see Providence thwarted.
After everyone was settled, Nera found herself at the back of the wagon with her sister, Miss Wilkes and the colonel. The night was crisp and cold and if she looked up, she could see a thousand stars.
“What a beautiful night!” Bianca said. As Nera saw her sister’s eyes sparkle, she knew not all the stars were in the heavens. She suspected that somewhere beneath the hay, Bianca and the colonel were holding hands. It was so sweet. She caught Tamara’s gaze, and they smiled at each other in perfect understanding.
After a leisurely ride through the countryside, the wagon brought them to a clearing that had a large fire burning in the center, and logs scattered around it for seating.
Miss Cranston eyed the logs with a certain amount of distaste, and Miss Thompson used that to her advantage to exclaim over the ‘perfect rustic seating.’ Miss Cranston retaliated by insisting that they tell ghost stories once they were settled.
“I do not believe…” Lord Meare began, but Colonel Wilkes agreed that it was a splendid idea.
“We will all take turns,” he insisted. “Miss Morrow, will you go first?”
Nera looked at him curiously. For someone so protective of Bianca, he was being rather cavalier with his earlier resolutions. When the colonel turned and winked at her, however, she relaxed and bid everyone take a seat.
“Once, there was a young man who was driving his gig home from the tavern at night, and along the way, he saw a young woman dressed in white. She hailed him, and he stopped. She asked for a ride, and he agreed, as she said she only lived a mile or so up the road. Along the way, they talked, and she said her name was Lily. It was cold outside, not unlike this evening, and the gallant man offered his cloak to the girl, who was wearing only the thin white gown. When they reached the farmhouse she claimed was her home, he got out and went to the door to tell her family that she had arrived. Only then did he realize she had disappeared from the gig. Confused, he asked the farmer’s wife where Lily might have gone.
“‘Lily doesn’t live here anymore,’ was the reply. More confused than ever, the man insisted that she did, that he had given her a ride home and had even given her his cloak for warmth.
“‘Lily doesn’t live here anymore,’ the woman insisted. ‘She died a year ago and is buried over there.’ She pointed to a small family cemetery. The man went to look, and found a marker that had the name Lily on it, and a death date of the year before.”
Nera paused for effect, and was rewarded with a few anticipatory expressions, and not a few shivers. “And lying next to the tombstone was the man’s cloak.”
Everyone applauded her effort, and Miss Cranston, not to be outdone, went next, telling a very silly tale that had no point, just rambled on and on. She received scant acknowledgement when the story ended, as everyone had lost the thread of it long before, and she sat down, angry and embarrassed.
“I will go next,” the colonel announced. “Once there was a young woman who joined a nunnery. The training was strenuous, and she was a lazy girl, always looking for an easy way out.” He fixed his gaze on Bianca, but had moved over closer to Miss Thompson. “When it was time to take her final vows, the girl was told to sew her own habit for the occasion, but she was, as I said, lazy, and she cut the fabric wrong, with not enough left for a second sleeve.”
He was as good as Nera at pausing, and when he had everyone’s attention, he resumed his tale.
“One of the sisters had recently died, and was laid out in the chapel prior to burial. The young nun decided that she would borrow some material from the dead sister, and she crept into the chapel at midnight, after everyone was asleep, and cut a sleeve off the woman’s gown, intent on sewing it onto her own. But as she headed back to her cell to sew, she was certain she was being followed. And she heard a whisper.
“‘Someone has my sleeve.’
“The girl could find no one about, so she went back to her room. ‘Someone has my sleeve,’ she heard, this time louder. Trying to ignore the voice, she set to work on her gown. ‘Someone has my sleeve,’ the voice insisted, even louder this time.”
The colonel had maneuvered around so that he was directly behind Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson.
“’Someone has my sleeve!’ the voice insisted,” he said in a loud voice. “And it’s you!” he exclaimed, touching the two ladies on the shoulder. They both screamed and jumped, and everyone laughed, except for them. And Miss Woodbury, who had fainted.
Nera watched as both Mr. Thompsons ran to Miss Woodbury's aid, nor did she miss the way Miss Cranston demanded that Colonel Wilkes not be allowed to tell any more ghost stories.
"My cousin did an admirable job, Miss Cranston!" Lord Meare insisted. To Nera's surprise, he turned to her. "Is that not so, Miss Morrow?"
"I... Yes, he did," she faintly agreed. Anything that might scare some sense into their tiny minds could only be considered improving.
"It is getting colder and the wind is picking up," the colonel pointed out. "Now that Miss Woodbury has been revived, I suggest we head home."
Everyone agreed and while the colonel helped Bianca into the wagon, Miss Cranston and Miss Thompson went past them with superior expressions up to the front of the cart.
"You are all right, Miss Morrow?" Lord Meare asked softly in Nera's ear as she waited for assistance into the wagon.
"Fine," she assured him.
"Out for my blood, perhaps, from earlier?"
"Maybe."
"I would not blame you if you were. I have much to apologize for, but not here. The library? Later?"
Nera did not want to agree, but she found herself nodding.
No wonder licentiousness was rampant at house parties, she realized later. She had gone upstairs with the Wilkes ladies, and only had to wait fifteen or twenty minutes for everyone to settle down before slipping out and going downstairs.
Lord Meare was waiting. She found him staring at a stack of books.
"I do not understand this fascination he has with books," he said.
Nera shrugged. "I've seen all sorts of things. Crockery, furniture, even dueling pistols. I suppose it depends on what they have an affinity for, what they discover they can move around, or what gets the most attention. In this case, I suspect it is all three. My sister and I have been asking him questions and have been getting a few answers."
"You have? But I thought your sister already was talking to him."
"For some reason, I seem to be the one he wishes to communicate with." It was like that sometimes.
"Which reminds me. I owe you so many apologies."
Nera gave him a sideways smile. "Accepted." That statement of his was good enough for her, after the way he talked to Miss Cranston that evening.
"Thank you. Tell me more about this... thing..." He indicated the books, one of which fell off a stack and hit him in the shoulder.
"William obviously does not like being called a 'thing.'"
"I see that." Lord Meare rubbed his arm.
"He and I have worked out a system. I ask a question and if the answer is yes, a book goes back on the shelf. If he says no, a book is added to a stack, or a new stack is started."
"Could we try?"
"I cannot guarantee he will respond, but we could make the attempt. William, are you here?" She already thought he was, because of the book that hit Lord Meare on the shoulder, but it did not hurt to confirm his identity. She heard the viscount suck in his breath when a book floated over to the shelf.
"I take that as a yes," he said, shaking slightly.
Nera went to pour him some brandy and made him sit down to drink it.
"It can be unnerving until you get used to it. William - do you want Lord Meare to know who you are?"
A book hit the floor with a loud bang.
"No. My apologies, my lord, but William has a reason for being secretive. I am not exactly certain why yet." She had to tell him that, even though she knew the correct answer. Or thought she did.
"May I try?" he asked.
"Certainly." She sat down next to him on the sofa.
"William - do you have a reason for needing our help?"
A book shelved itself, and Lord Meare gave Nera a surprised look. "I did it!"
She had to smile at his boyish enthusiasm. It was a side of him she had never seen before. "You did."
"William - does this concern the Lambert family?"
To their amazement, four books floated over to one of the cases.
"Four book, four Lamberts?" he asked. The books wiggled into place.
"This is incredible!" he exclaimed, and Nera was tickled with his reaction.
"Are you here to warn us about something?" he wondered. A book added itself to the smallest pile on the floor.
"No warning, then," Nera said softly. "But you are here to help?" They got a positive reply.
"The only help we need is..." Lord Meare's eyes grew wide. "You know where my uncle is? Is he alive?" Two books were added to the shelf.
"Where is he?"
"I do not believe he can answer that with a simple yes or no," she pointed out. "That might take Bianca and Maurice, and he is not talking to them at the moment. What do you suggest we do? Your mother's right to call herself countess will be official in a week."
"I would much rather have my uncle restored to the family," he softly replied, and Nera felt a pat on her shoulder. "But I have looked for him and watched the ships, with no luck. At first it was because my mother wanted nothing to spoil her plans," he confessed, "but then it was more a desire to restore him to his rightful position." He sighed. "My father would rather not be the earl."
"But then you would not be viscount."
"I do not care about that."
"Then you are singular amongst your peers. Most young men would do everything in their power to secure their own future. Quite admirable, really."
"Thank you." He leaned in close to her. "Your opinion means a lot, Miss Morrow."
"Honest?"
"Honest."
Nera flushed and said it was time to go upstairs before she was discovered. She knew it was either that or before she kissed him, whichever came first, so she beat a hasty retreat.
The next morning, Nera woke up to discover rain sheeting across her window and she thought about pulling the counterpane over her head and going back to sleep. Tamara Wilkes, however, had other ideas. She bounded into the room on the heels of the maid assigned to assist Nera, and jumped on the feather mattress with her usual enthusiasm. Nera was thankful the maid had not yet settled the tray of tea and rolls on her lap, else it would have scattered everywhere.
“Wake up, Nera! Please don’t be a slugabed this morning! Drew has organized a scavenger hunt! He told me so at breakfast, which you missed!”
“On purpose,” Nera pointed out. “It is raining and I am tired from all our activities last night.”
“Which ones? The hay ride and the bonfire, or sneaking off to meet Drew later in the library?” was Tamara’s soft and not-so-innocent reply.
“How did you…?”
The girl giggled. “I heard a noise and thought it was Miss Cranston up to no good. To my surprise, it was you! I followed you downstairs and heard you speaking with Drew in the library, so I went back to bed. After all, you are safe with Cousin Drew.” She winked at Nera. “And your secret is safe with me.”
“Thank you,” Nera drawled. “I appreciate that.” What she really appreciated, however, was Tamara’s low tones, so the maid could not hear the conversation.
“You are welcome.” The cheeky girl had the nerve to ignore the sarcasm. Instead, she waited for the maid to put the tray on the bed and then she helped herself to one of the rolls, despite having already eaten. “These are delicious. Not nearly as good as the ones our cook makes. Do you think your sister will be happy in my family?”
Nera, who had taken a sip of tea, nearly choked. “What do you know about that?”
“Oh, please. I have never seen my brother so taken with a female as he is with your sister. It only needs a special occasion, such as the countess’ ball, for the formal announcement. And that is no secret. Mama also is anticipating having a new daughter soon. Will you be in the wedding, do you think? And me, as well? I hope so. I imagine Bianca will have to come live with us afterwards, though. Not only is Rand due back to his regiment soon, but at the moment, the small estate he owns is largely uninhabitable.”
“Oh? How so?”
“He bought it because it requires a lot of repair, and while some of them have been made and a few rooms are ready, I do not believe he expected to live in it so soon, let alone bring home a wife.”
“If only Napoleon had stayed in exile,” Nera said with a sigh.
“I know. Everyone thought this was it, and now… Rand says never underestimate a tyrant, and yet everyone did. Now the Corsican is mustering his troops! Imagine!”
Nera shook her head, and wished she could see into the general future of the country. Unfortunately, her talents never did lie in that direction. What if Bianca married her colonel and he died in battle? And then ended up with the viscount? How awful would that be? What if the ball she pictured was one in a year or so, after…
“Are you all right, Nera?” Tamara wondered. “You look rather ill. Perhaps you had better stay in bed after all.”
“No, I want to hear more about this scavenger hunt,” she said, putting on a bright face. There was never any sense borrowing trouble. Fortunately, Tamara was easily distracted.
“It sounds like fun! We are to be put into teams, given a list of items to find and then have an hour to produce as many as we can. The group with the most items wins a prize!”
“How many items?”
“I do not know. Drew will give us the lists when we meet up in the main salon in a half hour. So get up and get dressed! We haven’t much time!”
“You and I are going to be partners?”
Tamara laughed. “No, it is being split up differently than that. Drew will take the Debutantes from Hell with him, Rand and Bianca will be a pair, Mr. Thompson the elder is to escort Mama and I about, and you and Miss Woodbury are to go with the younger Mr. Thompson. If you ask me,” she added in a whisper, “this would be your chance to further Mr. Thompson’s interest in Miss Woodbury.”
“They are attracted to each other? I thought Mr. Thompson was more interested in Miss Cranston.”
“At first, I believe he was, but now he is spending more time with Victoria. Perhaps they could become betrothed during the next week, as well. I don’t think Miss Woodbury is capable of lasting a season in London, not with her shyness, and Mr. Thompson is quite solicitous of her person. It is adorable to see.” She sighed. “I really need a gentleman as perfect as that.”
“You will recall what I said about the perfect gentleman?” Nera reminded her.
“He does not exist! What about Drew?”
“What about him?”
“He must be perfect for you to be so interested in him, and he in you.”
“Lord Meare is about the most imperfect man I have ever met!”
“And yet you love him!” Tamara insisted.
“I…” Nera sat up straighter, almost upsetting her own tea tray. “I…” She sighed. “I suppose that I do. How did that happen, and what am I going to do about it?”
Tamara shrugged. “You are resourceful, so I am certain you will think of something. In the meantime, I suggest you just enjoy the sensation.”
Nera frowned. “The sensation of knowing you are in love with someone who doesn’t love you in return?”
“Who says he does not?”
The groups gathered in the drawing room for the scavenger hunt and were given lists of items they were required to find within the space of an hour. Nera was teamed with the younger Mr. Thompson and Miss Woodbury, as Tamara had predicted, and she stood back while the other two put their heads together to read the list.
A vision of the two of them standing at the altar popped into her head, and she smiled. It seemed there would be nothing in their way, although she could never be certain. Still, the fact that they already seemed to be smelling of April and May boded well.
Miss Woodbury finally seemed to realize that there was a third member to their party, and gave the list to Nera. She read through it and thought perhaps most of the items would be simple enough to find – a snuff box, a fan and a ribbon – if the countess did not mind a few belongings of the house to be missing temporarily. Others – a feather and a maid’s cap – might take some work. She would ask her own maid for the cap, but where would she find a feather without going outdoors?
“Do you have a strategy?” she asked, and Mr. Thompson blushed.
“I thought we could collect a few items, Miss Morrow, and then have Miss Woodbury and I watch over them…”
“While I find the rest?” Nera chuckled at Mr. Thompson’s embarrassment. “That will be acceptable to me, Mr. Thompson.” Knowing what she did about this couple, Nera had no problem leaving them alone for a short while.
“Is that fair?” Miss Woodbury wondered.
“If anyone asks, I shall tell them you felt faint and needed to sit down,” Nera innocently replied, earning nervous laughs from her companions.
“I do not think anyone would not believe that,” Miss Woodbury sheepishly replied.
“Which is why we should use it to our advantage,” Nera said kindly. She was already beginning to see it as a character accent of the young lady, and not a flaw.
Miss Woodbury gratefully patted Nera’s hand. “You are very nice. I do not care what Mama says about your mother. I would be happy to call you friend.”
Nera paled, but she should have known the older ladies who were the countess’ cronies would not let the matter rest, even if the younger people never spoke of it. It was a good thing she did not plan to go to London for a season. It was also provident that Bianca would be going to town as a married woman, if her sister got her own way. Tamara had told her the Wilkeses planned on taking Bianca with them once she married the colonel. What once would have thrown Nera into a panic at losing her beloved twin was now only a relief. She and Aunt Muriel would miss her, but they would be able to muddle on without her. They were not without their own investigative talents, despite lacking the expediency of Bianca’s gifts.
Nera had to admit that this time she had managed to get more out of William than her sister had. That was not normal, but it was not unheard of, either. There were occasions spirits took a liking to her, or to Muriel, and were less responsive to Bianca.
“Are you ready, Miss Morrow?” Miss Woodbury wondered. “Lord Meare is about to let us begin.”
A half hour later, Nera settled Miss Woodbury, Mr. Thompson and a handful of objects in a small parlor and set off on her own to collect the maid’s cap, a hair ribbon, a fan, a slipper and a feather. Everything except the feather could be obtained from her room. She rang for the maid while she gathered the rest of the items, and then easily collected the girl’s cap when she appeared, promising to return it once the game was over.
“Where might I find a feather in this weather?” she asked the maid, who thought perhaps the conservatory might have a few. “Mr. Jenks the head gardener was saying just the other day that a bird had gotten trapped in there, miss. It’s gone now, but it’s bound to have left a few feathers behind.”
Nera thanked her, asked directions to the conservatory and set out. It took her a few minutes, because she made a false turn, but finally found it at the back of the family wing. It was dark and gloomy, because of the weather, even though the plants were well-kept. There was a path around the room, also neat and tidy with no overgrown bushes, nothing out of place. She preferred a more natural look, with more random growth, a few small trees hanging overhead. Evidently the countess and her gardener were more comfortable with everything well-ordered. What a shame.
“Where might a bird go if it were loose in here?” she asked herself and followed the path to find a fountain gushing water into a large stone basin. The noise had not been discernible at first because of the rain overhead. It had a few signs of a bird having been there, perhaps to drink, and Nera got down on her hands and knees to see if any feathers had fallen behind the fountain.
“Lose something, Miss Morrow?” the viscount asked from behind her. Startled, Nera sat up too quickly and hit her head on the stone basin.
“I am sorry!” he exclaimed when she yelped in pain. “Are you all right?”
Dazed, Nera realized he had knelt by her side and was gently rubbing her head. She was too amazed to speak.
Taking that as an invitation, Lord Meare leaned over and kissed her.
“I feel better now,” she blurted out once he sat back, and he chuckled, causing her to blush.
“What are you two doing?” Miss Cranston suddenly demanded.
“I was looking for a feather, but Miss Morrow beat me to it,” the viscount said, sliding something under Nera’s hand.
She felt a soft, downy object under her palm and brandished it before Miss Cranston. “All is fair, I suppose,” Nera said brightly. “Although there might be more down here. Care to take a look?” she asked the other young lady. Lord Meare helped her to her feet, where she was pushed roughly aside so that Miss Cranston could crawl about the fountain in her stead.
“There are no more down here,” she said, looking up with a pout. “Give me your feather, Miss Morrow! I want it now!”
Nera backed away in alarm, clutching the feather to her chest. Even though she had not found it, she was not going to give it to some spoiled brat, either. “No. Go find your own.”
“I said give it here, now!” Miss Cranston was not going to take no for an answer, but the viscount seemed to have other ideas. Miss Cranston lunged for Nera, who backed off even further, and she saw Lord Meare stick his foot out, tripping Miss Cranston and causing her to lose her balance so that she fell head-first into the stone basin.
Miss Cranston came up dripping wet and shrieking, and cursing Nera, who had been nowhere near her when she fell.
“Daughter of a whore! How dare you get me wet! I ought to take my father’s horsewhip to you for such a thing!” she screamed. Lord Meare stepped between them, getting himself damp as he restrained the other girl.
“Miss Cranston, please! I cannot allow you to speak to another guest in such a manner!”
“But you saw what she did to me!”
“I saw no such thing. You lost your balance, fell into the fountain and now you are in need of drying off. Let me call for a servant to escort you upstairs to your mother.” Still holding her at arm’s length to keep her from scratching Nera’s eyes out, or so it seemed to Nera, he called for a footman.
“What about her?” Miss Cranston screeched as two footmen and a maid arrived to take her to her room. How so many knew to be on hand, Nera would never know, but it seemed to take both men to carry the girl off.
“Miss Morrow will be taken back to her team, because time is up on the hunt, and we need to count our items. I will send Miss Thompson your regrets,” he said kindly as Miss Cranston was hauled off, still shouting.
“I dislike when she does that,” the viscount said sadly to Nera when the other girl was gone. “Mama will be upset over the loud noise.”
“I take it Miss Cranston is no longer in the running for the position of viscountess.”
“She never was. Shall we join the others?” Lord Meare held out his arm and they went quietly back to the where everyone gathered.
Drew made Miss Cranston’s excuses, but noticed that no one seemed to mind her absence. The winners in the game were the team of Miss Morrow, Miss Woodbury and Mr. Thompson, and they were all given homemade rosettes as prizes, and allowed to help themselves to tea first. It was a merry party that gathered around the fire in the main salon as they recounted their adventures in the hunt.
The next couple of days were quiet, with Nera only reading and visiting the hermit, who was on the mend, but she felt as if something momentous was about to happen. And while it was not the life-changing event she kept thinking was on the horizon, the announcement two evenings later that Mr. Thompson was betrothed to Miss Woodbury certainly was important.
“We have a wager, Miss Morrow,” the colonel said to her as footmen were sent by the countess to secure some champagne. “Miss Bianca says you did not see this particular engagement coming and I say that you did.”
Nera looked at her sister in some confusion; the Bianca of old would have known she might have had a vision of the happy couple. A quick wink from her sister, however, made her laugh and say that whatever the forfeit, Bianca deserved to pay it, because she should never doubt her twin’s talent.
The colonel assured her that the forfeit would be paid, leaving both sisters blushing furiously and in no question as to what the payment might be.
“Now that this announcement has been made,” Nera whispered to her sister as a smiling Colonel Wilkes moved off to help with the champagne, “will there be another?”
Bianca’s smile lit up the room and Nera wondered how she ever could have questioned the wisdom of going against her vision. “He has asked and I have accepted! Just today,” she hastily added, as if Nera might be put out for not knowing as soon as it happened.
“Congratulations!”
“We will say something Friday evening at the ball, for while we would never overshadow this happy event, we have no trouble doing the same to Lady Sandwell.”
Nera laughed. “Have you been to the library lately?”
“Where do you think I received my offer?”
“And?” she prompted.
“William says we must wait for Friday. I do not understand why, but…” She held out her hands, as if to ask what else she could do.
“Everything, then, hinges on Friday.” Nera thought back. The countess’ announcement, William finally telling all, Bianca’s official betrothal. “What about the missing heir?” she wondered.
“What about him?”
“William said he knows where his elder son is!”
Bianca’s eyes grew wide. “He did not tell me that!”
“Tell you what?” Colonel Wilkes asked, handing them each a glass of sparkling wine.
“William knows … Wait a moment! His elder son?”
“Haven’t I told you that? William…” Nera looked about and lowered her voice. “William is the late earl.”
“Did you know this?” Bianca demanded of the colonel.
“No. Does Drew know?”
Nera shook her head. “William does not wish him to know yet.” The colonel whistled. “You cannot tell anyone!” she insisted. Further conversation was forestalled by Lord Sandwell offering up a toast to the newly-engaged couple.
Later, Bianca followed her sister up to Nera’s room in the family wing and insisted she be told everything that had been happening recently. Settling herself on the bed, she waited expectedly while Nera changed into a nightgown.
“You most likely have had a more interesting week than I have,” Nera said as she climbed up next to her sister.
“Only in becoming engaged,” was the happy reply. “I am to get a ring on Friday.”
Nera hugged her. “I am so happy for you both! I have always wanted a brother!”
“As have I,” Bianca said. “So hurry up and get Lord Meare to propose so we might all be married together.”
“Lord Meare!”
“Are you the only one who hasn’t seen how he watches you?”
“Er…” Had Nera noticed that? He had definitely kissed her on two occasions, but watching her?
“The next time you are in a room with him, tell me he doesn’t notice your every move!”
Nera blushed. “I did not realize it was happening!” Perhaps those kisses were not just spontaneous, as she had supposed. Or merely a nobleman at play? Was he serious?
“It will be perfect,” Bianca said with a sigh. “You love him, I can tell. And a girl should always have a husband who loves her.”
Nera grinned and nudged her sister with her elbow. “When did you become such an expert?” she teased, not daring to reply, even to this most beloved twin, that she was indeed in love with Lord Meare. After all, she’d only had two days or so to mull it over. Perhaps that was why she had avoided almost everyone in that time.
“I give Rand full credit for my education,” Bianca said smugly. “He really is a darling. Not only does he believe in my abilities to talk to the deceased, but he takes care of me, too. I feel so protected and loved.” She sighed once more, and it was a happy sound.
“That is the fly in the ointment, then,” Nera mused. “Lord Meare could never fully care for me unless he acknowledged my talent. And it is so nebulous sometimes, how could he actually believe it?” She felt like she was between a rock and a hard place. “If he does love me, as you say.”
“Of course he does! Or at least, he acts like he does. He has spent the last two days moping about, barely organizing activities for his guests, asking me where you were, picking at his food.”
“And that is a sign?”
“No sleep, no food, no energy? Of course it is! Rand says so, and I have to believe him.”
Nera smiled. Bianca was loyal to a fault when she loved someone. “Then I will have to believe him, as well.”
“So you do love Lord Meare?” Bianca prodded.
“With all my heart.”
Suddenly, Nera felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders, and she saw a vision such as she had never seen before. And she hoped it would come true.
Lady Eleanor insisted that Bianca be moved in with Nera the afternoon of the ball.
“Muriel and I will be busy, and we will not have time to spend helping you two prepare. My maid will be available, and the girl you have assigned to you already, Miss Morrow, should be adequate. She has been turning you out well enough for dinner lately, so she must be handy enough to do your hair and ensure your gown is on properly.”
“Does Lady Eleanor seem distracted to you?” Nera asked her sister as they helped carry some of her belongings up to Nera’s bedchamber.
“Aunt Muriel, too,” Bianca agreed. “But I suppose we will know in time what they are up to.”
“I am confused about the missing heir. What if they know about it? Are they going to spring the man full-blown on us at the ball? At dinner? Before dinner?”
“Not at dinner!” Bianca laughed. “Lady Sandwell would poison his wine!”
Nera had to concede that this was true, just as Tamara Wilkes bounded out of her room.
“There you are! And Miss Bianca! Is your dance card full already?” she teased the girl who was to become her sister. “Rand chose waltzes, did he not? And the supper dance is a waltz…”
“I already have that one spoken for,” Bianca teased in return. Nera was pleased to see the two get along, since they were destined to be family. “What about you?”
“Rand insists he will not dance with his sister, but both Mr. Thompsons have obliged me with sets, and so has Cousin Drew. How about you, Nera? Any partners yet?”
“I have not yet been approached, but then, I have been rather absent from the party lately, so it is to be expected, I suppose.”
“Cousin Drew will surely ask you to dance! And Rand, naturally.” She linked arms with the sisters and they went into Nera’s bedchamber. After the door was shut, Tamara launched into the plans she was making for Bianca’s first season in town.
Nera sat in a chair by the fire and let the girls chatter on while she indulged in some self-pity. Bianca was going to have someone to take her place, and Nera was going to go home to Aunt Muriel’s house and rarely see her.
“I have seen Nera’s gown for tonight,” Tamara was saying. “Let us see yours, too!” she demanded of Bianca.
Bianca retrieved the gown from where a maid had hung it in the wardrobe just as there was a knock on the door. It was Mrs. Wilkes, with the admonition that they all needed to rest if they planned to dance until dawn.
“May I stay here?” Tamara asked Nera. “It is dashed dull in my room with no one to talk to, and I promise to go to sleep eventually.”
Nera said she could stay and Mrs. Wilkes had no objections, except to her daughter’s language, as long as they all took naps at some point. Tamara allowed her mother to undress her to her shift and then jumped into bed with Nera, who was still fully dressed, and Bianca.
“Isn’t this cozy?” Tamara asked after her mother left the room. “We shall have such fun in London!” she said to Bianca. “And perhaps you will be able to come, too, Nera.”
“Oh, yes!” Bianca enthused. “If certain gentlemen do not act fast enough, that is.”
“Cousin Drew?” Tamara asked with a giggle.
“Does everyone know?” Nera demanded, blushing.
“It is rather obvious,” Tamara said, “but he also told me he planned to win you.”
Nera sat up straight. “Win me? Like a prize at the county fair?”
“Now, Nera, dearest, I doubt he…”
“Of all the…” Nera climbed over Bianca and out of the bed. “I am not a rag doll or a prize hog! Win me, indeed!”
“I do not think…”
Nera stormed out of the room, hell-bent on finding Lord Meare and giving him a piece of her mind.
He was nowhere to be found, unfortunately, so she went outdoors, bareheaded and without a cloak, intent on checking on the hermit. Perhaps Lord Meare was there. Once she arrived at the hut, however, there was no sign of anyone. The hermit was gone, as were his belongings. Had the poor man succumbed to his ailment? He had been recovering so well. Or perhaps he had been moved indoors to mend and keep himself from further illness.
She retraced her steps to the house and went to the library, but even that room was quiet. Too quiet, and too clean. The books had all been reshelved, with not a single tower or even a short stack to be found. This day was certainly turning into an odd one.
Nera decided to go back to her room to apologize to Bianca and Tamara for her outburst, but when she reached the bedchamber door, it was ajar. Inside, instead of her sister and friend, who must have moved to another room after she left, she found Miss Cranston with Nera’s ball gown, cutting it into shreds with a pair of scissors.
Nera shrieked, her evening in ruins along with her gown, and the sound brought Mrs. Wilkes, Tamara and Bianca running into the room.
“Miss Cranston!” Bianca exclaimed as the spoiled beauty stood there, as if frozen, her scissors held mid-cut. Behind Nera there came a sudden gust of icy air and she could finally see what shocked Miss Cranston into place. The White Lady floated up to mean Miss Cranston, circled around her and then, suddenly, blew right through her.
©2007, 2008 Copyright held by the author.