My Lady Ghost

by June Calvin

  Considering the mood of the participants, Allison suppressed an almost irresistible urge to laugh at the sight. Pity for the terrorized woman finally propelled her forward to help Bean shoo the geese away. It seemed forever before the task was accomplished. Finally, all but the fierce gander had retreated amid loud goose- objections.

  “Hold, sir,” Bean begged Newcomb. “If you won’t hit at him. I’ll be able to quiet him sooner.”

  Newcomb mouthed another pair of expletives as he wrapped one large hand around the gander’s neck and detached the general from his inexpressibles. Murder in his eye, he struggled to grip the goose with his other hand. “I’m going to wring this beast’s neck, see if I don’t.” But a large wing tip in his eye forced him to drop the bird with another colorful oath.

  “No, you shan’t. Captain Newcomb, for they are only doing their duty.” Allison interposed herself between the angry man and the equally angry gander.

  “Duty! Is it their duty to attack invited guests?” Newcomb’s complexion had turned a dull red with fury. Bliicher skirted Allison and renewed the attack. Another blistering expletive escaped the frustrated man’s lips.

  Deeply shocked, Sergeant Bean admonished him. “Ladies present, sir. Mind your tongue.” He snatched up the determined gander, pinioning his wings. He wavered under the weight and the difficulty of balancing himself with only one good leg. Finally, Ian stepped forward to take a hand in the situation, though he was nearly doubled up with laughter. He grasped Bean by the elbow, steadying him.

  For an instant, Newcomb looked as if he might attack Bean for daring to reprove him. Mastering himself, he bowed to Allison and growled, “Beg pardon, madam. In the excitement, I had not fully realized that there was a lady present.”

  Allison glanced meaningfully at the trim, attractive woman whom a flustered, red-faced James was assisting to her feet. She arched a challenging brow. Newcomb muttered under his breath. “Ain’t no lady.” Aloud he said, “She’s a Frenchie, ma’am. Not likely to have understand the half.”

  “Nor did I, Mr. Newcomb, for which I thank the good Lord. Jamie, what is going on? Won’t you present me to your . . . friend?” She looked curiously at the woman. About thirty, with disheveled deep auburn hair that had largely escaped its prim knot at the back of her head, she was dressed respectably, after the manner of a lady’s maid or a housekeeper, and made a respectful curtsy when she became aware of Allison’s presence.

  James brushed down his much-abused clothing before responding. “This here’s Marie Pollard, Allison. Miss Pollard, you are making your curtsy to the lady I spoke of, Mrs. Weatherby, so you can see that you were not deceived.”

  Marie launched into a voluble, angry tirade in French. As Allison listened, she realized that the woman’s screams had not been called forth, at least in the first place, by the watch-geese. She spoke of a ghostly presence, a fierce, heavily armed man who threatened to cleave them all with his sword. Allison looked around her, half expecting to see such an apparition, so convincingly did the woman describe it. She attempted to calm Marie and question her in her native tongue, but Newcomb stepped forward and gave the Frenchwoman’s arm a rough shake.

  “Here, stop that foreign lingo. No one can understand a word you’re saying.”

  “But a body can see she is terrified.” Sergeant Bean thrust himself between Marie and her assailant. “No way to handle a woman, sir, be she lady or no.”

  “Hold your impertinent tongue,” Newcomb raged. “Get back to your post and leave us be.”

  “Richard is right,” James intervened. “No need for rough handling.” He pulled Marie gently away from the two men and thrust her at Allison. “Perhaps you and Sergeant Bean could find some water or something to refresh Miss Pollard, Allie?”

  Allison scowled at James. “When she has had some time to compose herself, I mean to have an explanation for this. I take it this is the maid that you spoke of, the one who fled from Ham- merswold?”

  That name inspired Marie to a fresh spate of hysteria-tinged exclamations. ‘The very one,” James crowed triumphantly. “Newcomb tracked her down. Great gun, ain’t he? Wanted to tell you he was on her trail, weeks ago, but Thorne said I mustn’t.”

  Now Allison understood James’s vague hints of a solution to their problems. As she led Marie toward the gatehouse, she heard James calling Bean back to pen up the geese so he and his friend could look over the castle.

  By the time James and Captain Newcomb joined them, Allison had heard enough from the distressed maid to be furious with both men. “This is a good deal too bad of you,” she rounded on them. “Abducting this poor woman and forcing her to search for ghosts when she is terrified of them. Jamie, I had thought better of you.”

  “Abducting?” James glared at Newcomb. “Thought you said she came willingly?”

  “I can’t think what she said to give that impression, Mrs. Weatherby,” Newcomb responded in an urbane tone, “but it is not true. Miss Pollard desired to come. She understands the situation perfectly, and expects to be well rewarded if she helps to locate that treasure.” Newcomb’s smooth manner of speaking was belied, Allison thought, by a slight shifting of the eyes under her scrutiny.

  “I expect the geese just upset her, isn’t that right. Miss Pollard?” James took Marie’s hand and patted it comfortingly. She looked from him to Allison to Newcomb, growing progressively more uneasy as the three stared at her.

  “Il ne m ’a pas dit que le revenant...”

  “Speak in English,” Newcomb growled.

  “M-monsieur never told me that the ghost was a murdering sol- da t soaked in blood. He told me of a pale lady who wished her secret to be discovered.”

  “That’s right! Our ghost is a female. Had you ever heard of an armored soldier lurking about, Allie?”

  “I have not, but that is beside the point. Captain Newcomb, you have wasted your time and effort in bringing Miss Pollard here. The treasure was hidden somewhere in the north part of the castle, and you can see that little but a massive rock pile remains. The remainder is quite unstable, which is why the marquess had forbidden anyone to search there. Miss Pollard, would you wish to return to the dower house with me? I will assist you in finding another situation.”

  “May I have a word with you in private, Allie?” James took her elbow and propelled her a few feet away.

  She jerked free. “You are unfortunately showing the effects of bad company, manhandling me this way.”

  James winced, but persevered. “Thing is. Allie. I owe Newcomb a considerable sum of money. And he did rattle about the country for weeks, looking for this woman. I feel that I owe him the opportunity to at least look around.”

  “Did you know that he caused her to be discharged, and in such a way that she received no recommendation? Otherwise she would never have accompanied you here.”

  “Is that what she told you?”

  “Yes, and I believe it. How much of the treasure did you promise him, Jamie?”

  “I... not much. Ten percent. Plus I'm to pay him back my debt, plus his expenses for finding Marie.”

  “Did you not think you should consult Thorne and me before promising away part of our share?”

  “Newcomb figured you’d be grateful to have any of it. And so you should be! It’s not as if Thorne were ever going to find it. Only way he’ll look for it is to slowly dismantle the north wall and tower. ‘Eventually, it will turn up, if it’s there,’ he said. But you see how little he has done. It’ll take the rest of my lifetime to clean up that mess at the rate he’s going.”

  “And how did you propose to retrieve it from that mess?”

  “I have reason to believe the treasure is somewhere else entirely. Thought the ghost would lead us to the exact spot. Wouldn’t be as risky, then.”

  Allison's eyes widened. “What reason? Where?”

  “Did some research among family papers in Thorne’s library. As to where, don’t know exactly. That’s what Marie can show us.” He took her hands i
n his and swung them back and forth, his voice taking on a cajoling tone. “Come now, Allie. Talk the creature into having a look around. Then we’U all be rich.”

  Allison hesitated. It would indeed be worth ten percent to find the treasure, but she suspected she could find it herself, given the chance, and the help of the Silver Lady. If not for the untimely interruption, she might already be looking at it now.

  James’s eyes pleaded with her. “Be a brick, Allie. Fact is. I’m going to be in a heap of trouble if I don’t let Newcomb and that maid look around. Mean to say, he’s been patient about my debts, but he has a servant who is an ugly customer if ever I saw one. I shouldn’t be surprised if he’d take it out of my hide if I fob Newcomb off.”

  “Oh, very well. But only if she will do so willingly. I won’t let her be forced to do anything she doesn’t want to do. And no one takes any risks, do you understand? Thorne is right to restrict access to the unstable areas. We’ll have to ask his permission, then get all the help we need if anything is to be dug up, knocked down, or such.”

  “Of course!” James was already hurrying away from her as he called back this slight reassurance over his shoulder.

  Shadowed by Ian, Allison followed Newcomb, James, and Marie uneasily as they walked around the castle grounds. Marie was fingering her necklace and whispering to herself, occasionally crossing herself and kissing the crucifix as she looked around. She gave no sign of seeing anything, nor could Allison. The Silver Lady had disappeared.

  They inspected the dim interior of the keep and made the circumference of the castle’s intact inner walls without incident, returning to the gatehouse none the wiser. James’s steps dragged, and Newcomb looked thunderous.

  “Come inside, if you please,” Sergeant Bean requested as he saw the quartet approach. “I’ve fresh, spring-cooled lemonade and some sweet biscuits sent up by the cook from Thorne Hall this morning.”

  “The very thing,” Allison said, tucking her arm under James’s elbow. From the look on his face, he took no pleasure from the invitation. “Oh, and Ian, after you have had a glass, will you ride to

  the dower house for my gig? I plan to take Miss Pollard home with me.

  Newcomb mopped his face with a large kerchief and then surprised Allison by offering his arm to Marie Pollard.

  Sergeant Bean led them through an archway and across a sitting room. A table was set up at a window, which had obviously been cut into the gatehouse in modem times. It looked out on the approach to the castle. As Allison slipped into the chair James held for her. Bean lifted a large pottery pitcher and began to pour lemonade into glasses. After filling one for each of them, Bean looked back across the sitting room. “Now. where have the others got to?”

  Allison and James turned, too. Newcomb and Marie were nowhere in sight. “Oh, Jamie. I’m afraid he may have dragged her off to the north wall again!”

  James frowned and stirred uneasily in his chair, but made no move to go and search for the missing pair. “Doubtless they will join us directly, Allie. Enjoy your lemonade.” He lifted his own glass and set her an example by drinking thirstily.

  “I’ll just go along and encourage them to join us,” Bean said, setting the pitcher down abruptly.

  “Jamie, you’d better go, too. Newcomb won’t mind anything Sergeant Bean says.”

  “Wait, Sergeant. Let me finish my lemonade, and I’ll go with you.” James reached for the pitcher, obviously intending to pour himself another glass.

  Bean stopped and turned, scowling. “But Master James ...”

  “James Betterton! I’m ashamed of you!” Allison was already on her feet when the screams began.

  Chapter Nine

  Allison ran as fast as her long, bulky skirt would allow, but James passed her before they reached the exit from the gatehouse, closely followed by Sergeant Bean.

  As they reached the north wall, Allison realized with a sinking heart that Newcomb and the maid were nowhere in sight, and that the screams were emanating from the crumbling remains of the north tower. A stitch in her side robbed her of breath to cry out to James, though she hardly knew if she would urge him on or urge him to stop before he, too, lost his life to the treasure.

  Darting past the overturned hurdles, James charged inside. Allison stopped in the tower entryway, calling to him to be careful. He bounded up the stairs to where Newcomb bent over Marie Pollard, shaking her and yelling, “Shut up. shut up.”

  A loud pounding sound drowned out his angry shout, James's remonstrance, and Marie’s screams. At first Allison thought it was her own straining heart pounding in her ears, but she realized it was the hooves of a galloping horse seconds before she heard Sergeant Bean cry out, “My lord!”

  She turned in time to see Thorne riding straight toward her, as if he would run his horse right over her. At the last minute he reined in so hard he forced the animal to its haunches. In an instant he had dismounted and strode up to her. He pulled her into his arms roughly.

  “Allison, I don’t know whether to kiss your or beat you!”

  She looked up into his grey eyes and felt that familiar drowning sensation. “Do I get a choice?” she asked. Even as they moved toward each other, they were distracted by the sounds of the struggle above them. Thorne looked up over Allison’s head and snarled, “What the devil?” Above them, Newcomb had his hand over the struggling maid’s mouth, and James, just below them, tugged at her waist. An ominous crackle sounded from the tower.

  “Get down from there this instant!’’ Thorne’s booming voice carried authority and a hint of panic. The three instantly froze. “You are standing on an unsupported stone structure that is jutting out over a steep cliff. At any moment it may collapse, carrying you with it to your deaths. Come down slowly and carefully, one at a time. James, let the woman pass you and come down first.”

  At these words, Newcomb suddenly released Marie and shoved her against the wall. He shouldered his way past her and James, hastening down the steps, which shuddered beneath his heavy tread.

  James gasped. “Here, now,” he protested, at the same time steadying Marie, who almost tumbled down on top of him from the violence of Newcomb’s thrust. He helped her to slide past him, then followed her down the steps.

  When ail three were standing on firm ground beside Thorne and Allison, James began an explanation, which Thorne cut short with, “Quite. Newcomb, I take it you are James's guest? You had best come to Thorne Hall with us, for we are going to discuss this incident in detail. James, Allison, you will attend me.”

  Having issued these orders, he turned on his heel and followed Marie’s retreating figure. She stopped momentarily to speak to Sergeant Bean, then continued on her way.

  “Who is that woman, Bean?” Thorne asked as he reached the sergeant. “Have they injured her in any way ?”

  Bean ground his teeth. “She's a respectable lady’s maid. From the looks of her cheeks, she’s been slapped around pretty smartly. Master James brought her here to help ..

  James caught up to them. “I’ll explain. Bean. You look to her, please.”

  Bean turned to Thorne for directions. He nodded his head.

  “You’ve been a wastrel and a gambler for years, James, but this is the first time I've known you to abuse a helpless woman. No doubt the influence of the company you are keeping.” His contemptuous gaze raked Newcomb. Allison quickly came to James’s defense.

  “You have mistaken the matter, Thorne. Let me explain,” she begged.

  “No, Allison, I saw it with my own eyes.”

  “Saw, and misunderstood.”

  He met her eyes, his own narrowed with annoyance. She could just hear him thinking. Disputatious female!

  So much for any hope of a change of mind on his part, Allison thought, reading cold fury in his expression. Quarreling with him over James seemed to have ended whatever tender feelings he had felt for her a few minutes ago, when he thought she was in danger.

  “I shall also wish to know why you involved Allison i
n such a dangerous business.” Thorne stopped and swallowed hard. Allison had the mad fantasy that he fought back tears. “Again, we shall discuss these matters at Thorne Hall. My horse must be looked after—he has had a hard run.” Setting his mouth in a grim line, he took Allison’s arm in his and began quick-marching her toward the gatehouse, where Newcomb’s carriage horses were standing, stamping impatiently in their traces, and her mount was grazing under a shady tree. His own animal followed them without urging, blowing loudly as he calmed from his exertions.

  Allison did not protest further. It will be as well to let Thorne calm down a bit before explaining, she realized. She dreaded what promised to be an acrimonious discussion. Behind them Newcomb and James exchanged angry words.

  At the gatehouse Bean waited for them, a worried look on his face. “She took off, my lord. Just disappeared. Fair terrified, she is, of that Cap’n Newcomb. Terrified of our ghosts, too, poor creature.”

  “Ghosts?” Thorne frowned at the plural. “No, don’t tell me. I’ll send some men to help you search. I wish to speak with her. as well as see to her well-being.”

  Bean sketched a salute instead of tugging at his forelock as most estate employees would do. “I’ll see to it, my lord.” He set his jaw as Newcomb stalked past, followed by James, his face as grim as Thorne's. “Like to give that fellow a little of what he gave that poor woman,” Bean muttered.

  “I shall deal with him, never fear.” Thorne put his hand on Bean’s shoulder.

  But he was unable to keep his word on that score. Allison and Thorne were sharing an uncomfortable silence while sipping cool lemonade when James finally stalked into the Stuart drawing room unaccompanied. Before Thorne could ask. he growled, “Newcomb don’t have the stomach to face you. He ordered his coachman to drive on as soon as I was out of the carriage.” He dropped into a large armchair and stared sullenly ahead of him.