A Haunting at Havenwood (Seasons of Change Book 6)

by Sally Britton

  She leaned away, preparing to stand.

  A momentary panic caused Ras’s lungs to seize up, but he moved quickly anyway, his hand finding hers upon the windowsill. “Miss Banner, n-no. Not you.” Curse his stammer. He had nearly conquered it where she was concerned. “In truth, I have liked our meetings, strange as they were. I wish they could go on, but—”

  “We both know you are not a ghost,” she finished for him, a weak smile turning her lips upward. “Why did you let me into your house, Mr. Grey? Why speak to me at all, if you wished to avoid detection?”

  Why indeed? Because she was lovely? If he said such a thing, she would think him a besotted fool, or a prowling rake. He would also sound as shallow as a rain puddle.

  Best to go with another attribute. “Your curiosity is refreshing.”

  “My curiosity?”

  “The idea of a ghost would terrify most young ladies. But you came back, without fear. Why?” The idea of ghosts had sent him plunging into self-doubt.

  Her eyebrows pulled together, and her gaze darted away. “I have never been one to give heed to gothic stories or superstition. My mother brought me up to ridicule such things rather than take part. But—would it not be marvelous if such things were real?”

  Her lashes lifted enough for her to peer at him again, her smile almost forlorn. “Ghosts. Treasure. Honorable bandits living in the woods, like Robin Hood. My mother disapproved of all of it. Young ladies ought not to entertain ideas of adventure when they are sitting demurely in the parlor.”

  Ras’s excitement mounted with each word she spoke, and he drew closer to the windowsill. “I have often felt the same. My family, my father especially, decried such things as foolish sensationalism. He said every English boy ought to leave dreams of Camelot and Sherwood Forest behind them when they went away to school.”

  Miss Banner’s lips turned upward. “I gather you found that difficult, Mr. Grey.”

  “Impossible, actually.” He released a self-deprecating chuckle, turning his head. He saw the ghost of his great-grandmother still standing where she had before, a smirk upon her face and an eyebrow raised. He sobered immediately.

  As delightful a turn as his conversation had taken with Miss Banner, other matters took precedence. He had shown her his library and confirmed for them both that King James sent the first Erasmus Grey to Harbottle to find treasure for the crown.

  Reluctantly, Ras stepped away from Miss Banner. “I hope I can trust you with my secret, Miss Grey. I had rather not be disturbed, or have it generally known that I am at the Lodge.”

  Her smile faded away. “Of course, sir. Thank you for taking the time to feed my curiosity. This information will likely be of some help in my treasure hunt.” She stood and brushed off the front of her gown.

  “You are still not content to sit in a parlor in quiet reflection, I take it.” Ras watched as she closed the book and brought it to her chest, wrapping her arms around it as though embracing the history it held.

  “For the first time in my life, I am being told to stay out of the parlor and enjoy the outdoors. So I must either aimlessly wander the countryside or have a purpose. Seeking a missing treasure suits me better than meandering about with no more sense than a dizzy bumblebee.” She turned away, likely to restore the book to its shelf.

  Ras stepped up to the window again, tilting his head inside to better watch her. “Miss Banner?”

  She paused and looked over her shoulder at him, saying nothing.

  “There is a book on the desk you may like. It is the sort of novel your mother did not wish you to read. It’s an adventure, with one of those honorable bandits you mentioned before.”

  She gifted him with the return of her dazzling smile, and Ras’s heart skipped a merry beat in response. She replaced the large book and took up the slim volume from his desk. “Thank you. I will return it soon.”

  Then she disappeared out the door. Ras released a breath he had not realized he held, his chest aching.

  Lady Elizabeth hummed thoughtfully at him. “I think I rather like that young lady, grandson.”

  “As do I.” Ras pushed his way through the shrubbery again. “I think I ought to ask Douglas to do away with these things.” He glared at the greenery. “They do not even flower enough to make them worth keeping.”

  “Why would you care? The Lodge is all but abandoned these many years.” Lady Elizabeth sighed, looking up at the house. “It used to be quite beautiful.” Then she faded from his sight. Miss Banner appeared around the corner at the next moment. She held his book in her hand.

  Ras cleared his throat and gestured to the carriage path. “Will you allow me to see you out of Havenwood?”

  “A gentleman ghost’s escort would be most welcome.” She gave him a teasing smile before tucking the book she held into her basket. “Thank you.”

  They did not speak as they walked down the path, he on one side and she on the other. No sound interrupted them, save for the wind rustling branches above and the occasional caw of a raven in the distance. When they arrived again at the main road, Ras’s steps slowed, and his companion’s stride faltered.

  Miss Banner surprised him when she sounded as reluctant as he to part. “I suppose I will return to the Manse. Thank you for your company today, Mr. Grey.”

  “It was a pleasure, Miss Banner.” He bowed, deeply. “If you have any more questions, I would be happy to be of service.” The offer slipped free of his tongue before he recalled that he was supposed to be avoiding people, his lovely new neighbor included.

  “I would not dream of interrupting your solitude now that I know what lengths you will go to in order to protect it,” she said. “But if we should chance upon each other again, I would not mind.”

  Ras watched her dark eyes, enjoying the way they gleamed with good humor rather than laughter at his expense. “Enjoy your day, Miss Banner.”

  “Thank you. Good day.” She dipped her curtsy, then went on her way. Ras watched until the slight bend in the road and the trees hid her from view. She glanced back over her shoulder at the last moment and waved.

  A deep voice grumbled next to him. “Ye let her go a might too easily, m’lad. She’s fair of face and form, and smarter than most. You ought to be more daring in your courtship.”

  Ras started back up to the house, removing his hat to fiddle with the brim. “Courtship? No one has said anything about courtship.” He sent a brief glare at the ghost. “In your day, you were married off by the king. That hardly sounds daring.”

  His great-grandfather snorted. “Aye, it was. I had to do my courting after the wedding, which is all the more daring. If I had failed, I’d have been worse off than when I started. Stuck with a woman who hated me.”

  “None of this is pertinent to me. I am not here to court Miss Banner.” Ras halted in his steps and turned to his ghostly ancestor. “Unless that is the reason you wanted me here? To meet her?”

  His grandfather chuckled. “Oh, now you want to know. If only it were that easy. We’d be on our way, I think, given how you favor her and she you.”

  Arguing with a ghost about his love life would do nothing to aid him. He tried to ignore his disappointment that his presence at Havenwood Lodge had nothing to do with Miss Louisa Banner.

  “Cheer up, lad. No reason why we cannae accomplish more than one goal.” His grandfather chuckled and faded from sight.

  Ras kicked a rock off the path. If the ghosts wouldn’t tell him what their original goal was, he didn’t see himself accomplishing anything of importance on his own.

  Chapter 10

  The book Mr. Grey had loaned Louisa kept her up late enough that she used more than her share of lamp oil. She began reading The Bandit of Bleakhollow before dinner and had rushed through the meal somewhat rudely in order to return to its pages.

  Thankfully, her aunt had not seemed to mind when Louisa explained she had begun a new novel.

  “Dear me, child. I know well enough that an enjoyable book requires as much at
tention as one can spare. Try not to stay up too late.”

  Louisa ought to have listened to the practical advice; instead, she kept turning pages long after the rest of the household had gone to sleep. As a result, she woke late. The book had several chapters left to tempt her, but a growl of her stomach forced Louisa to concede she had other needs to see to first.

  She put on her wrapper and rang for Sarah.

  “Breakfast was cleared up hours ago,” Sarah said when she came into the room. “But Mrs. Penrith said to bring a tray to you as soon as you woke.”

  “I hope I have not put her out.” Louisa sat at the small table in her room, and Sarah laid the tray in front of her.

  “Your great-aunt is too kind a soul to be out of sorts with anyone.” Sarah went to the bed and made it up, still talking. “Mrs. Penrith also asked that I give you the note upon the tray.”

  Louisa lifted her napkin and found the sealed paper with an unfamiliar wax seal. She turned it over but did not recognize the handwriting. Her heart sank. She had rather hoped to hear from her mother.

  Shrugging off her disappointment, Louisa broke the seal and unfolded the note.

  Miss Banner,

  My sister, brothers, and I would enjoy your company this afternoon. We intend to walk to Alwinton to meet an acquaintance there, and it would delight us to introduce you to our friend.

  Yours, etc.,

  Angelica Cunningham

  As she said nothing of the time of departure, Louisa hastily scribbled her acceptance and handed the reply to Sarah. “Can you find someone to take this up to the baron’s castle?” She opened her drawer and found a few pennies, wincing. She wished she had more coins for her use, but her mother had insisted there was not much to spare.

  “Yes, miss.” She tucked the note into her apron and curtsied. “I’ll take it as far as the Unicorn. Someone there will be happy to deliver it to the castle. Ought I to wait and help you dress first?”

  Louisa looked down at herself and sighed. “Yes, I suppose that would be the wisest thing.”

  After dressing, she tucked the book Mr. Grey had loaned her beneath her pillow. She would have to wait to finish the adventure story. Perhaps she could have the whole of it read by that evening, then return the book to its owner the next day. A tickle of excitement made her stomach twist.

  What a pity the ghostly charade had ended. Their ability to meet and speak to one another would necessarily be more complex without the pretended distance of death between them.

  Chewing her lip as she thought, Louisa went in search of Aunt Penrith. Mother had told Louisa to make herself useful, and thus far she was failing quite spectacularly at that simple task. But what was she to do, when Aunt Penrith cheerily went about her life as normal, pushing Louisa out of doors at every instant?

  Aunt Penrith sat at a writing desk in the downstairs parlor, a goose-feather-pen in hand, scratching away at a piece of paper. She looked up when Louisa entered the room and immediately greeted the younger woman with a smile.

  “There you are, Niece. Did you finish your book last night, or during the early hours of the morning?” Given that there was an undeniable sparkle in Aunt Penrith’s eyes, Louisa felt at ease laughing.

  “Neither, I am afraid. The book still waits upon me to read it to its conclusion. But I was up rather late.”

  “Ah, to be young and not as in need of bed as an old woman.” Aunt Penrith chuckled and turned her attention back to her writing. “Did you see your note from Miss Cunningham?”

  “Yes, thank you. She invited me on an outing to Alwinton to meet one of their friends.” Louisa froze just before lowering herself into a chair. “Oh, Aunt. I have already accepted. I should have asked first—”

  “Nonsense. I introduced you to that family with the hope that they would take you in. While I cannot see that you share many personal traits with them, young people do have a way of needing one another. I am pleased they thought to ask you.”

  Louisa relaxed into her seat, relieved. “When I spoke to them, Mr. Cunningham and his sisters did not seem as though they enjoyed living in Harbottle very much. I think they must prefer Town.”

  “To be certain, they do. As does their mother.” Aunt Penrith paused, putting her pen down. “When I first came here, I thought it rather lonely, too. But now Harbottle is the dearest place in the world to me. To be sure, there is not much entertainment, or a great deal of society, but there is peace in abundance. And kind neighbors.”

  With her eyes turned to the window, watching a tree near the gate sway in the breeze, Louisa spoke without thinking. “I cannot think my mother would abide it.” She pressed her lips together tightly after speaking and looked to Aunt Penrith with wide eyes. “I shouldn’t have said—”

  “I know, dear. But it is the truth, isn’t it?” Aunt Penrith offered a soft smile of reassurance. She stood from the desk and came to sit in the chair nearest Louisa. “And it is perfectly all right to know what one can and cannot endure. I know it has not been long since your arrival, but if you tell me that this life is too difficult for you, I will do my best to find you somewhere else to go.”

  The genuine warmth in Aunt Penrith’s eyes, accompanied by her comforting touch upon Louisa’s hand, made her eyes prickle with tears. The words were meant as a kindness. But—

  “I have no place else to go, and no funds to take me anywhere, and not enough skills to find a position even as a governess.” She started to sniffle, and her aunt made a handkerchief materialize.

  “The world is not so harsh a place to one who is kind and willing to try, dear child.” Aunt Penrith gave Louisa’s hand another gentle pat. “And I am not turning you out. Merely promising to do my part to help you find happiness. As I said, living here is not for everyone. Mrs. Grey, for instance. There is a reason she has not come back to the Lodge in Havenwood since her husband’s passing. She found being so far from people difficult. We discussed it many times when she was a young bride.”

  When Louisa realized her great-aunt spoke of her erstwhile-ghost’s mother, she blinked back her tears and forced herself to take a calming breath. “Why was it difficult for her?”

  “She felt lonely, and too far from people should she need help. The Lodge being tucked into the wood did not make matters easier. She could not even see the road from a window. I believe it left her feeling cut-off from the world. And she was—still is, I would say—a woman who is happiest when surrounded by other people.” Aunt Penrith adjusted her spectacles. “She is a kind and graceful lady. I would never say otherwise. Her daughters are much like her—bright as hothouse flowers and in need of as much attention. Not like their brother.”

  The mention of Mr. Grey made Louisa’s stomach tighten, and her cheeks warmed. “Oh? What is he like?”

  “A steady lad, as happy to be wandering about the countryside as to sit quietly by a fire. I always rather liked him. I have not seen him in a year or more, but he has grown from a shy child into a man of quiet dignity. I used to wonder if he preferred solitude due to nature or his stammer. Sweet lad. He had many a trouble getting his words to come out right.” Aunt Penrith leaned back in her chair and cast her gaze out the window.

  “His mother blamed the stammer on being out here, in the middle of nowhere. She thought he needed better tutoring, more people to speak to. But he always seemed so content to me, when I caught glimpses of him in the summer, roaming about our hills.”

  That well sounded like the man Louisa had met. A quiet nature suited him. There was a steadiness to him, despite their odd interactions, that contradicted his stammer.

  “Does the family own land elsewhere? I cannot think anyone would want to spend all of their time in a bustling town.”

  “They have a house in Newcastle, but land has never been a concern of that family. They own one of the larger coal mines in the west. I believe it was brought into the family through marriage, centuries ago. They are true gentility, with never a need to do more than pay tax to the Crown.” Her aunt smi
led to herself. “Which is why I think the departed Mr. Grey preferred his ancestral home to town.”

  With her thoughts filling in the gaps, creating a better portrait of the Grey family than she had before, Louisa spoke her conclusion. “He was like the son, and preferred quiet over the expectations Society would put on a man of such wealth and importance.”

  “Yes. Some called him a recluse.” Her aunt looked over the rims of her spectacles at Louisa. “There are all sorts of people in this world, child. Those who love noise and distraction, and those who yearn for quiet and solitude. I think both have a place, and neither is wrong. If you take anything from our little gossip, I hope it is that there are many paths to happiness.”

  The words were spoken with such solemnity that Louisa gulped before answering. “Yes, Aunt Penrith.”

  “Good. Now, I must turn my mind from my neighbors back to my own business. I am writing letters this morning. How will you occupy yourself until your outing with Lord Erran’s children?”

  “Sewing.” Louisa stood up. “I have some sewing I could do. Let me fetch my things and I will keep you company.”

  “A wonderful idea.”

  As Louisa climbed the stairs to her room, she thought on what her aunt had revealed of the Grey family. Mr. Grey’s desire to remain out of sight and away from the notice of his neighbors made a great deal more sense. With the additional insight into his character, she wished once more she had finished the book and could use its return as an excuse to seek him out.

  What would her mother say, if she knew Louisa had been speaking to a wealthy gentleman, alone, in the woods?

  Mama cannot ever know. No one can.

  It was of no consequence that Mr. Grey was an eligible gentleman, or that Louisa was the only woman in the county who knew his whereabouts. He wanted solitude, not a husband-hunter nipping at his heels.

  His doings were absolutely nothing for her to concern herself over. The Cunninghams had already spoken for her time that afternoon, and she still had her treasure hunt to distract her until the weather turned.