My Lady Ghost

by June Calvin

  Then she dreamed she could hear the woman speaking. Her voice sounded like muted bells, yet Allison could understand. She was remonstrating with the men.

  “Cease this fighting,” she ordered. “Grandfather meant for ail of us to share his estate. Jacques, though you are the oldest, you cannot claim it, or the crown would confiscate it. I am a mere woman. Only Gerard can claim it, for he fought beside the king and thus will not be required to hand it over to the crown. We must trust him to give us our share. Only by joining together can we hope to follow Grandfather’s wishes and keep it all intact for his descendants. He will curse us all from the grave if his wealth goes to Uncle Gowan.”

  The two men barely paused in their quarreling to hear her words. All of the bitterness of the English civil wars, which had divided brother from brother and father from son, seemed rolled up in their fury. Suddenly, they drew swords and began to fight. It seemed to Allison as if she were watching a play.

  They are on the walkway of the north wall, she realized. In this dream the wall stood intact, though severely damaged by cannon, all the way to the north tower, also intact. The lady wrung her hands and continued to exhort her brothers to cease fighting.

  A moment later, they were joined by a large, fierce-looking man in the armor of a pike officer, leading a troop of armed men. He attempted to break up the fight. Abruptly, the one the lady had called Gerard collapsed, a mortal wound in his throat spilling his life’s blood. Jacques then turned to face the new arrival.

  At that moment Allison realized the troop served the Round- head, not the third man, who positioned himself between the woman, her brother, and his troop of soldiers. The Silver Lady called out, “Jacques! You will not gain your purpose with this day’s foul work. Now that our brother who served the king is dead, I can never reveal the secret of the treasure to you, whom the king has attainted. Get you back to the Netherlands and your regicidal friends.”

  This time Allison heard the man’s words clearly, though like the lady’s voice they sounded like bells, bass bells this time, being plucked rather than rung. “I think a few moments on the rack will reveal to you the error of your ways, dear sister.” Jacques strode across his brother’s body to face the large soldier. “Sir Broderick, join us. Persuade your wife, before I must.”

  Sir Broderick thrust the woman behind him, dislodging her cap and releasing long silver blond tresses. “Flee, my love” he ordered her, his voice a deeper note, barely audible. “I will follow.”

  “No. I shall die here with you and leave the future of my children to God.” She drew a small sword and, looking at once brave and impossibly delicate, stood beside her husband. As Allison watched, her breath in her throat, the scene began to waver. No! she thought. Don't disappear! I need to know what happened. A moment more and she realized that it was not the scene that was wavering, but the north wall. It crumbled before her eyes, taking first the Lady, then Sir Broderick, and lastly the woman’s greedy brother and his troop, down with it in a roar of stone crashing against stone.

  The silence afterward was deafening. The dust clouds raised by the collapsing wall faded into the glowing white fog with which the dream had begun, and Allison was once more alone in the room. It was then that she realized she was not dreaming. She was sitting up in her bed, perfectly awake, staring at the fireplace.

  Horror mixed with amazement and a peculiar kind of exhilaration. I have seen what happened, she thought. The treasure was not found. The Silver Lady died rather than reveal it.

  The disappearance of all three heirs was explained. They had not fled to the Continent with the treasure as some, including Thorne, had speculated. Nor had the second Baron D’Aumont, the first baron's brother, murdered them and spent the treasure, as others had speculated. Their bodies lie beneath the rubble of the north wall, she thought. Neither they nor the treasure were ever found.

  Allison tossed back her covers and got up to pace the room restlessly. I expect the fierce knight who frightened Marie so was the ghost of Sir Broderick. Knowing what had happened did not seem to make finding the treasure easier, but it did place it back in the realm of the possible.

  Allison pondered the scene until sleep once again claimed her. By then the moon bathed her room in a soft but entirely natural light.

  A chiming sound awakened her, perhaps moments, perhaps hours later. She blinked at the bright light hovering near her bed. It quickly shaped itself into the Silver Lady, and she urged Allison to rise.

  “Come with me, child,” the bell-toned voice urged. “We are running out of time.”

  Allison sat up and tossed the covers aside, but she did not follow. “I am sorry, my lady ghost, but I cannot go with you.”

  “Why?” the spirit demanded.

  “I am afraid. You have led others to their deaths.”

  “Never have I done such a thing! Always we have tried to warn interlopers away, but they will not heed us!” The Lady held out her hands beseechingly. “Why do you fear me when you came to Silverthorne Castle seeking me?”

  “I did not know all of the dangers then. Do you want the north wall, which claimed you, to take my life, too?”

  The Lady shook her head. “You will come to no harm. As our kinsman James has guessed, the treasure is nowhere near the north wall. But thanks to his indiscretion there is one seeking it whom I fear may well find it. I have sworn to give it into the hands of my grandfather’s blood heirs. You must come now!”

  She means Newcomb. Fear and excitement made the blood throb in Allison’s temples. Almost without willing it, she rose and started for her clothespress.

  “There is no time to dress. We must go while the moon is shining. You cannot go up the footpath in the dark. Put on your robe and follow me.” The ghost went through the door. Allison slipped into her robe and pulled on the sturdy boots she wore to ride in. She opened the door from her suite of rooms cautiously, peering this way and that. The hall was empty; only a guttering candle in a wall sconce lighted it. The ghost stood at the head of the servants’ stairs, waiting for her.

  Surely the maddest thing I have ever done, Allison thought. But she stealthily followed the ghost out of the manor, pausing only long enough to collect a lantern from the kitchen.

  Thorne had succeeded in exhausting himself, but sleep seemed no nearer. He returned to the manor house reluctantly. As he approached it from the ornamental garden, he looked up resentfully at Silverthorne Castle. It was a magnificent sight, its edges frosted by the moon, a Gothic study in light and dark.

  Something caught his eye—a light that shouldn’t be there glimmered and disappeared, only to reappear a few feet higher on the cliff path. Partly build of wood, partly carved out of the cliff face, the path had been constructed to allow quicker access to the castle than could be had by the road that wound around to the top of the cliff. Thorne began striding toward the castle, keeping an eye on the light as he hurried toward it.

  Two someones! As Thorne neared the base of the steps, he saw a second light. A little lower than the first, it moved more slowly and hesitantly, as if the person carrying this lantern was less surefooted than the first. The windings of the path alternately led into the moonlight and back into darkness, doubtless an impediment to the unsure foot.

  A turn in the path brought the lower person into view. Thorne gasped, then swore as he realized that it was Allison. And James! For it must be he, leading her up the cliff, and not bothering to stay close to her lest she stumble. Who else would be so mad as to climb those steps at night? Or have the least reason to do so?

  A cold terror gripped him at the thought of Allison losing her footing on the rocks. A steep but safe climb in the daytime, the stairway was treacherous when darkness obscured the difference between carved steps and rocky outcrops or, worse, fallen chunks of the castle.

  He started up the steps and realized that it would be slow going, for he had no lantern. Drat! He dropped back and looked upward. Hands cupping his mouth, he shouted at the top of his lungs, “Al
lison Weatherby! James Betterton! Get back down here at once!”

  Startled by his voice, Allison very nearly dropped her lantern. Her heart was already in her throat from this midnight climb. At Thorne’s shout, it sped up and shifted to a staccato rhythm. She looked up the path. The Silver Lady had paused, too, and looked back down inquiringly.

  Now what do I do? Allison wondered, tom between Thorne’s demands and the strong desire to follow the ghost. To her surprise, the ghost motioned that she should go to Thorne. Her voice chimed in Allison’s ear.

  “I had hoped for this. Ask him to join us, for we will require his assistance.”

  Though Allison doubted Thorne would cooperate, the night and its terrors would seem infinitely less alarming with him by her side. She made her way down the steps.

  As she descended. Thorne climbed. When they met, he reached for Allison and snatched her from her perch above him. “You little idiot,” he growled, holding her tightly against him. His lips pressed against her temple; his right hand burrowed into her unbound hair. “You knew that was a damn dangerous thing to do. And James! To let you take such a risk. I’ll skin him alive, which I suppose he knows, for he takes care not to come down here!”

  “James?” Allison pulled back, frowning. “James isn’t with me.”

  “Now, Allison, unless you want me to think you are in league with Newcomb—”

  “The nerve of you!”

  “Or some other conspirator—”

  “I am with the Silver Lady. Look just above you on the steps. Can’t you see her? She is motioning us to follow.”

  Thorne scowled. “If you hope to allay my anger by that nonsense—”

  “It is the truth.” Allison stepped out of his arms and drew herself up proudly. “She is leading me to the treasure.”

  Thorne looked up to where Allison pointed. All he saw was a particularly bright patch of moonlight. “I see nothing! Surely this is some May Game.”

  Allison shook her head vehemently.

  “She really is there, Allie?” But Thorne knew the answer. The truth was in Allison’s eyes.

  “She is waiting for us to follow her. She wishes to show us the treasure.”

  “If you think it allays my fears one bit to know that the family ghost wants us to climb those steps, you are much mistaken! It’s a murderous spirit, and wants to see all of the D’Aumont line extinguished.”

  “No such thing. Oh, don’t weep, my lady.” Allison spoke soothingly to the ghost. “It isn’t true. Now see how you have distressed her, Thorne.”

  Thorne’s teeth flashed in a grimace of disgust. “She has distressed me far more, by luring my father and half brother to his death. Now she tries for the woman I love.” He reached for Allison.

  “No.” Allison stepped away before he could take her in his arms. “You do not love me. and she has lured no one to their deaths. She explained it to me. And—oh, Thorne—I saw what happened to her and her brothers tonight. I will tell you all of it later. But we must hurry. I really don’t want to attempt those steps once the moon has set.”

  “The devil take it! I will not follow her, nor permit you to do so!” Again Thorne reached for her. She nimbly jumped up to the next step.

  “Go get a lantern and join me at the top.” Turning on her heels, she began to scramble higher. But Thorne caught up to her almost instantly. His momentum contributed to their both falling forward, onto the next step. Thorne took most of the shock of the fall in his left forearm, cushioning Allison from the blow. Miraculously, the lantern did not break.

  “Are you hurt?” Thorne took the lantern from her hand and held it up.

  “No. Yes. You’re crushing me.” Allison thrust at his chest. The momentum of their fall had carried her onto her back, with Thorne rolling forward until he was almost on top of her. “Get off, you oaf.”

  “Oaf, am I?” Thorne stayed where he was. His eyes caressed her in the lantern light. “Allison, stop struggling, or I won’t be responsible for the results!”

  She stilled, suddenly aware of their intimate position.

  “That’s better.” He eased away from her just enough to lighten the pressure, but not enough that she could rise. “Now, listen to me. Seeing you on this cliff at night has cost me ten years of my life. I love you!”

  Allison smiled sadly. “I know you do, Thorne.”

  He sighed. “I’ve been thinking about what I said this evening. Perhaps ...” The proximity of his beloved in the moonlight suddenly made nonsense of his determination not to marry.

  “Don’t, Thorne. Nothing has changed. But if we found the treasure ...” She lifted a shaky hand to shape his troubled brow. “Please go to the castle with us tonight.”

  Thorne felt a flood of warmth at this softly, temptingly uttered invitation. Perhaps l should, he thought, his eyes caressing Allison’s face as her hand stroked his jaw. He very much feared he would do anything for her when he held her like this.

  “Us?” He looked around carefully. Then he lifted his eyes hopefully to where Allison had indicated the ghost stood. Nothing! “Answer me this, Allison, I am one of the heirs, yet never have I seen this ghost. Marie is no relation at all, yet she claims to have seen it and another beside. If it exists ..

  Allison opened her mouth to protest, but he laid a warm finger against her lips. .. and if it is benign, why doesn’t it show itself to me?”

  She looked up, hoping to get an answer from the Silver Lady, then realized that she no longer stood three steps above them. “Oh! She’s gone. But you did see her, a few minutes ago.”

  “No such thing!”

  “You saw something, for you thought James was with me.”

  “I saw another light preceding you up the stairs,” he admitted. “Are you quite sure you aren’t covering up for my scape-grace cousin?”

  “Quite!” Angered by his distrust, Allison shoved on his chest once again. This time he eased away and let her rise. “You saw her! She glows as if made of light. I could almost see the path without using the lantern.”

  Thorne rubbed his brows with thumb and forefinger. “I find this very hard to swallow, yet I’d like to think you wouldn’t lie to me.”

  “I am not lying to you, Thorne. She was here seconds ago.”

  He took her shoulders in his hands and commanded her to look at him. “If so, she has gone because I am here with you, to protect you. If there is a spirit haunting these mins, it is an evil one, with murder upon its mind.”

  “And I say that isn’t so!”

  “Then why has she abandoned you?”

  Allison had no answer. Moments before, the Silver Lady had been asking her to talk him into coming with them. She once again looked up the stairs and saw a tiny beam of light swaying back and forth far above them, probably at the level of the castle wall. “There she is!” Allison stood and pointed.

  Just then a voice floated down to them. “Who goes there? Identify yourselves before I fill you with buckshot.”

  “A rather deep voice for a female ghost, wouldn’t you say?” Thorne cupped his hands and called up, “It’s me. Sergeant Bean. Silverthorne.”

  “Is it yourself, then, m’lord? I thought I heard voices.”

  Thorne held his finger to his mouth to keep Allison silent. “I did. too. Are the geese on patrol?”

  “That they are. m'lord.”

  “Good man. Carry on.”

  “Now we know why she disappeared.” Allison said. “She seems to be shy of Sergeant Bean.”

  “Humpf!” Thorne dropped his hands and motioned Allison to start down the stairs ahead of him. Allison accepted his unspoken order.

  They walked back to the manor house in silence, each lost in thought. Thorne’s thoughts ran on vindictive ghosts and the naive relatives who seemed determined to fall victim to them. Allison pondered how to convince Thorne to help her search for the treasure.

  They climbed the servants’ stairs together, making as little noise as possible. When Thorne motioned she should exit the st
airs on the second floor, which held the library and public rooms, Allison balked.

  “We need to talk,” he said.

  “I will speak with you tomorrow,” she said.

  ‘Tonight.”

  The anger in his voice and his grim expression made her distinctly uneasy. The dictatorial manner made her bristle. “I am not suitably dressed for conversation.” She drew her robe about her more tightly.

  “Nor for clambering up a cliff at midnight,” he countered.

  “Well, as to that, I am not sure what costume would be appropriate .. ”

  He fought the smile, but it won. ‘That robe is infinitely more modest than the dress you wore to the Collingswood’s ball.”

  After a second’s hesitation, Allison nodded her agreement, and Thorne escorted her to the library. He held out a glass of sherry to her, then motioned her to sit beside him on a large leather sofa. Disturbing memories of another sofa prompted Allison to take a nearby Queen Anne chair instead.

  He watched her gloomily as she sipped her wine. “I feel a certain sense of betrayal. You promised Bean, and through him me, that you would not—”

  “Go anywhere near the north wall.” She met his eyes unthinkingly. “And I didn’t. Wouldn’t! I have no wish to die.”

  “Where have you been searching?”

  “I don’t recall saying that I—”

  “Allison!”

  “I expected the Silver Lady to lead me to the treasure.”

  “She obviously disappointed you.”

  “She tried twice today. Just now, and earlier. I saw her at the castle just before the fiasco with Newcomb and Miss Pollard began.”

  He folded his arms and waited.

  “She led me into the keep. I’m sure she was going to show me the treasure, but I suppose Marie’s screams frightened her away, as did Bean tonight.”

  ’Think, Allison. What need can a ghost have to flee a human being? If she can show someone the treasure, why has she not done so anytime these last one hundred-fifty years? I still say she wants to harm you. I suppose I really will have to blow the damned thing up, to keep you and James from becoming her victims.”