Watch for Me by Moonlight

by Kirsty Ferry

  Georgiana looked at the coin in her hand. It was just a silver penny, but to Lucy it was clearly more valuable than any amount of rubies or emeralds.

  ‘Remember his warning, though,’ Georgiana said, thinking quickly. ‘You mustn’t tell anyone he’s been here. Think of his poor horse, having to work with the faeries if you do.’

  ‘Oh no, I won’t breathe a word, I swear,’ said Lucy, ‘but now you have to promise me something.’

  ‘I have to do no such thing! You’re just a child.’

  ‘I might be just a child,’ said Lucy, her hazel eyes narrowing, ‘but you’re hiding something and I don’t know what it is.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Her face flooded with colour. ‘I don’t know what you could be talking about, Lucy Kerridge!’ She moved slightly, standing over the floorboard she had just replaced, moments before she heard her sister racing along the corridor from the nursery. It creaked tellingly, but Lucy seemed unaware of it.

  ‘I want you to promise me that you’ll show me what you keep in that locket.’ Lucy jabbed her forefinger at Georgiana’s bodice. ‘I know you’re hiding something in there. I want to know what it is.’ She stood still then, folding her arms in a singularly annoying fashion. ‘And I shan’t leave until you show me.’ For good measure, she stamped her foot.

  Chapter Nine

  The attic came back into focus around Elodie and she stood staring at the spot where Lucy had just been, demanding to see what Georgiana kept in her locket.

  For the first time, Elodie was annoyed that the memory, or the flash or whatever it was of Georgiana’s life, had cut off. She wanted to see what was in the locket as badly as Lucy did. She dropped the coin onto the window sill, then she looked at the floor and wondered if the floorboard was still loose.

  There was only one way to find out.

  She knelt down and felt around, pressing down until one of the old wooden boards wobbled under her fingertips. Her heart pounding, she poked until she got the edge of it. There was a tiny knot hole half way along, and she wriggled her finger into it. The knot hole was just big enough for her to hook her finger underneath the board and prise it out. It gave her a strange thrill to think that Georgiana might have done exactly the same thing with the same piece of wood.

  A waft of dank, dusty air hit her in the face and she coughed, then choked as she fought to breathe again. Not now! she begged her lungs. She didn’t have an inhaler with her and really didn’t want to collapse up here. It had been embarrassing enough when Alex had found her in the old squash courts last year, half-dead in the corner. She’d not had an attack like that for months and had managed to keep it all well hidden from him until then.

  ‘Sorry,’ she’d gasped. She’d fumbled for her inhaler when the attack had started, then dropped it. It had rolled away, and become wedged beneath some display boards. They were too heavy for her to move, and she began to black out, panicking. Alex had burst in, just as she’d started to despair, and through some frantic form of sign language, she’d managed to communicate enough for him to retrieve it for her. Then he’d sat next to her, his arm around her, looking into her not-so-blue-anymore face in horror as she began to calm down. ‘Asthma. Can’t – breathe.’ She’d struggled badly to speak.

  ‘Asthma?’ Alex had snapped. ‘Since when do you have that?’

  ‘L-London.’

  He had sworn and called Piers something vile and stayed with her until an ambulance came, then gone with her to the hospital.

  He’d been lovely, actually.

  But now, after she’d sat still for a few moments to let her breathing catch up, she bent down to the floorboard again. She reached in and felt around, trying not to think of spiders. There was something horribly cobwebby down there, which made her gag, then she felt something tickle her hand which had almost made her scream. Finally, she got it: the corner of a piece of paper.

  She moved her hand carefully, trying not to catch the paper – or her hand – on any old nails that might be down there, and brought it out gently. Pieces of paper had survived for centuries under floorboards; shopping lists and notes had been found in other stately homes around the country and it was quite nice to think that she might have something exciting here. Or, of course, it might have been one of Cassie’s old drawings from when she used to play up there.

  Elodie grimaced. She really hoped not.

  As she eased the paper out, her heart jumped. It was no drawing. It was a yellowing, brittle piece of paper, with faded ink on it.

  I know what he is because he has a beautiful horse and They have horses like that. I know he is a Bad Man and he lied to me about the silver pennies. I will tell Mama and Papa you are friends with him and you were angry with me when I asked to see your special locket. They will be cross and you will be sorry you did not let me see it.

  You spiteful little child!’ Elodie said out loud, shocked. ‘You awful, awful little girl!’

  The letter was clearly from Lucy – God loves a trier and this child was obviously one of those. The comment about the locket must have stung, together with Georgiana’s attitude towards her. She must have seen the loose floorboard after all and perhaps stuffed her own message in the space. Georgiana had clearly kept something in there that she wanted hidden away and Lucy had found out about it – and it was the perfect place to hide this little blackmail note. Elodie had a moment of surety where she thought it probably wasn’t the first or the last note she’d sent either. The child seemed tenacious.

  ‘Good grief.’ Elodie tucked the letter into the magazine with Georgiana’s picture and replaced the floorboard, stamping on it to settle it in place. She would tell Alex about it and—

  Of course, she couldn’t tell him, could she? He didn’t know she had been up here, let alone poking around the floorboards.

  She sighed and stared out at the parkland, thinking of the best way ahead. She saw a man on a horse, weaving through the trees. He was in the shadows and Elodie leaned closer to the window, trying to see him properly. Then he rounded the path towards the clearing where the oak tree had fallen and disappeared into the darkness of the forest.

  It played on her mind that she seemed to be reliving Georgiana’s memories, falling through some safety net that separated the two realities. For those times, she was Georgiana. The eighteenth-century girl wasn’t a ghost, otherwise Elodie would be seeing her move around and do things, just as she always saw ghosts do. She’d be removed from it; an observer like she normally was. No. This was different. She was in the girl’s body, in her mind. There was no conscious choice from either of them – Georgiana’s life just happened, and Elodie remembered it happening. It was entirely possible her memories and emotions had stained the atmosphere, for good or for bad.

  She looked out at the woods again and saw the horseman come back into the clearing. It was Alex, of course, riding Hughie bareback as he always did when he needed to touch base. She pressed her fingertips gently to the glass and watched the man she’d happily give her life up for, canter across the parkland on that great, galumphing, stupid animal of his. The thought should have startled her, or brought her up short at the very least. But it didn’t. It was as natural as breathing.

  Her mind wandered as she watched him and she remembered another man; another black horse that cantered through the parklands under the lattice-work of tree branches where the moon broke through.

  His dark hair was loose, and she had hastily wound a length of red ribbon in her own fair hair, trying to tame it after he had tangled his fingers in her long tresses. And after she had undone his shirt and run her hands down his muscular chest and around to his back.

  Stray curls hung loose about her shoulders as he pulled her close and kissed her again, more gently. She was bidding farewell to him just inside the church. The easiest way for him to leave was through the lych-gate at the back. From there, he could disappear into the woods and he would be safe. Nobody would disturb them here and the vicar himself only came on a Sunday morning
.

  ‘Don’t fret, my love. You know that I can look after myself.’

  ‘But I worry about you! I never know if I’ll see you again and I’m afraid that something will happen to you. I’d die for you, I would!’

  He shook his head. The shafts of moonlight that pierced the stained-glass windows gave him a silvery halo which, God knew, he did not warrant. She believed that was why she loved him so much.

  ‘Georgiana, my sweet.’ He lifted a curl away from her cheek and tucked it behind her ear, then ran his finger down to her chin. ‘In this moonlight you are the very image of an otherworldly being.’ He lowered his face to hers and brushed her lips with his. She closed her eyes, shivering beneath his touch. ‘And as I keep telling you, I will return. I have been kissed by an angel, and that is enough.’ She heard him laugh softly and opened her eyes to see him shaking his head. ‘However, I must go. I have work to do.’

  ‘But Ben—’

  ‘No, my love.’ His eyes were midnight blue and warm and she knew that, despite what he was and what he did, she would never have need of another man in all her born days.

  ‘Do you regret anything?’ Georgiana asked suddenly. ‘Anything about your life, or your work, or about meeting me?’

  ‘Some things.’ He quirked that smile that made her heart gallop. ‘But you – you, my love – I could never regret meeting you.’

  He leaned in to kiss her again and she closed her eyes, ready to welcome his lips …

  Elodie’s world returned and she found herself at the attic window, her fingertips pressed to her lips, her heart pounding. Alex was still weaving through the woods. He dipped his head and leaned forwards patting Hughie’s neck, and dug his heels into the animal’s flanks before they disappeared around the corner towards the stables.

  She leaned in to the glass, not sure if the pull her own heart felt towards Alex was real or just a product of Georgiana’s memories.

  It terrified her as much as it burned her up inside with desire, and she couldn’t move or think properly for quite some time.

  ‘You couldn’t possibly have cooked that,’ Alex said to his sister. He nodded towards the Aga where a delicious smell was wafting out from behind the doors. He’d just come back, the ride around the estate making him feel almost human again.

  ‘Why ever not?’ asked Cassie, offended.

  He shrugged. ‘I didn’t have enough food in. So you had no ingredients. And besides, Elodie told me she was bringing us dinner.’

  ‘Caught out!’ She swung her long legs off the high chair next to the breakfast bar and wandered over to the Aga, where she proceeded to pull three plates out. ‘Elodie’s joining us. She’s been gone ages though. She must have been throwing visitors out as well as locking up. It happens.’

  With the plates out of the oven, the casserole was even more tempting and Alex wasted no time in going to the cutlery drawer and clattering knives and forks onto the breakfast bar. ‘Is the locket nearly done?’

  ‘I think so.’ Cassie came over, balancing the plates, and nudged the necklace towards the end of the breakfast bar where clearly none of them were going to sit. ‘I need to give it another rub with the cotton duster, but I’ve wiggled it and the hinges seem looser. I promised Elodie she could open it.’

  Alex nodded. ‘She’ll appreciate that. Where is she? Still locking up?’

  ‘Yes. She went ages ago.’

  ‘I said I’d take her back through to see those pistols when everyone had left. What a bloody day, eh? Empty tombs, a broken church, a fallen tree and a flooded ha-ha. Not to mention the drains.’ He ran his hand through his hair and sat back in the chair. He could have gone on about all the other minor things he’d seen that would need attending to, but what was the point?

  The door clashed open just then and Elodie walked in with the keys jangling and some fancy designer magazine rolled up under her arm.

  She started a little as she saw him, then put the magazine down and drew up a chair in front of one of the plates. ‘Did you enjoy your ride?’

  ‘I did. There’s a lot of tidying up to do, but Hughie was splendid and he didn’t mind going a little slower tonight so I could check everywhere.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Elodie reached for the glass of red wine Cassie had poured and took a couple of sips without seeming to give it a thought. Piers had been something of a wine aficionado, Elodie had confided one night when she was pretty drunk on something cheap. He had refused to drink anything but the best and, she said, drinking cheaply was just one of the little ways she was rebelling out of London and back up here.

  Alex leaned towards her and whispered, ‘£5.99 at the post office, vin du courrier royale.’

  ‘It’s nice. I’ll have to get some myself.’ She cast a glance up at him and her cheeks flushed as she looked away and tucked a curl behind her ear. She concentrated on eating her dinner for a little while, then, seemingly abandoning her meal halfway through, she pulled the locket towards her. ‘Is this ready now, d’you think? Can we get into it?’

  ‘You can give it a go if you want,’ said Cassie. ‘Might not be quite ready, but you’re welcome to try.’

  Elodie nodded, then she took hold of the necklace, and cupped it in her hands.

  Before, when they had pulled the necklace out of the tomb, Elodie had been jittery, worrying whether they would find bones or something inside it. Now, when all she held in her hands was a simple yet heavy locket, all she could think about was the memories that seemed to tinge the attics.

  Ben still had Alex’s smile and Alex’s dark blue eyes; and, although his hair was longer, he seemed as familiar to Elodie now as Alex did. To be truthful, when Alex had leaned into her and whispered about the wine, she’d had a hard time stopping herself from grabbing him and dragging him upstairs to one of the bedrooms.

  And that really confused her, because she still didn’t know if it was Georgiana’s feelings for Ben, or her own feelings for Alex that had come to the surface.

  ‘Are you going to open it then?’ Alex’s voice interrupted her thoughts.

  ‘Like I say, the hinges might need a little more work.’ That was Cassie, through a mouthful of beef swimming in gravy.

  ‘I think the hinges will be fine.’ Elodie’s voice was steadier than she thought it might be. Alex moved closer and she could sense the excitement in him as well. She could also sense his breath tickling her skin. Oh, God!

  Elodie closed her eyes briefly, then opened them and dug her fingernail into the little gap where the two halves of the locket came together. She gave it one little wiggle and it sprang open. If she had expected to see two miniatures in there, one of Georgiana and one of Ben, she would have been desperately disappointed. But what she did see, against a background of black velvet, were two locks of hair – one fair and one dark, plaited together with a red ribbon.

  She put her hand up to the nape of her neck, thinking for a moment she was still wearing Georgiana’s red ribbon. Then she saw Alex make a little movement and dragged her attention away from the locket – just long enough to see his hand go to the nape of his neck the same way as hers had.

  He was staring at the locket, and then, seeming to sense that she was looking at him, he turned his head towards Elodie and fixed his gaze on her.

  And she found it impossible to drag her eyes away from his.

  ‘Oh, that’s interesting!’ Cassie said. ‘I wonder who hid that away. Perhaps Georgiana had a secret lover, all this time.’

  Elodie was vaguely aware of a clatter as Cassie pushed the high stool away from the breakfast bar and jumped off it. She padded around and leaned in between them to see the locket more closely. ‘Well, which one was Georgiana’s hair? Is she blonde or dark? See, that’s another mystery we need to solve. How exciting! She’s blonde, I guess, if that’s her painting upstairs. I just hope she’s this blonde; a nice, bright shade, like yours, Elodie; not a dirty, grubby, dishwater blonde like she looks up there. I mean, I know she’s all flaky and everything at the m
oment, but still.’

  Elodie opened her mouth to reply, but Alex answered instead. His voice was quiet and Cassie, bless her, probably didn’t even sense the undertone there.

  ‘Georgiana was blonde.’ He was still looking at Elodie. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘More than likely,’ she replied, carefully. He simply nodded and at last the spell was broken. He looked away and made a big fuss of standing up and collecting the plates and taking them all to the dishwasher.

  ‘Coffee?’ he asked, with his back to them. ‘Or perhaps more wine?’

  Elodie cleared her throat. ‘Not for me thanks. I’ll have to get back to the cottage.’ She reached out and snaffled her magazine, her heart pounding to think of what she had concealed in it.

  ‘But weren’t you going to see the duelling pistols?’ asked Cassie.

  Elodie shook her head and stood up. ‘No, it can wait. I think I’ve had enough excitement for one day. I’m just happy to have seen the locket open. Don’t worry about that casserole dish, I’ll get it next time.’

  ‘When will that be?’ Alex’s head was bent over the counter as he rubbed away at a splash of gravy with the corner of a cloth. He still, it seemed, was refusing to look at her.

  ‘I don’t know. Not tomorrow. And not the day after as I’m with Delilah. It’ll be after that some time.’ It was the world’s woolliest answer and she knew it.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Okay.’ Elodie tried to smile at Cassie but she knew it didn’t reach her eyes. ‘I’ll leave the locket here, it’s a shame to take it away from everything.’

  Cassie was staring at her. ‘What have I missed?’ she asked, looking from Elodie to Alex and back again.

  ‘Nothing,’ they both said together. Elodie could feel herself colouring, and she turned away, heading towards the door. ‘I’ll see myself out,’ she called over her shoulder.