I shook my head. “What does one have to do with the other?”
“They were inseparable... and you see where that got him!”
“Whom?” I’d lost track of whether she was speaking of Henry or Bolingbrook.
“Peter! He went off to America with Henry, didn’t he? And never returned! He got eaten by those savages!”
I recoiled. As far as I knew, the Native Americans were not cannibals. “You must be mistaken.”
“It matters not how he died,” her mother said, interrupting. “The point is that he’s dead and haunting this house. You must leave at once.”
I turned to her, mentally applauding her ability to shift the conversation back to where she wanted it.
“It is not Lord Bolingbrook who haunts Marshfield but his brother, Lord Marcus.”
“And how do you know that?” Lady Hollingsworth asked.
“I’ve spoken with him. In fact, if I may be so bold, I believe we’ve become friends of a sort.”
The lady narrowed her eyes at me and then stood, forcing her daughter to do the same. “You have clearly gone mad! Talking to—no! Befriending ghosts?” She turned to her daughter. “She’s a lunatic! Come along Constance, we shall report this to the vicar and have nothing more to do with her.”
She headed out the door saying, “I knew this was a bad idea to begin with but he would insist.”
Constance also looked at me as if I had lost my mind. She didn’t turn her back on me as she made her way toward the door. “Er, thank you for the tea, Miss Grace. It has certainly been, er...”
“Yes, thank you so much for coming to visit. I do hope you will do so again sometime very soon,” I said brightly.
I hardly had to walk them to the door, they were gone so quickly.
I burst out laughing the minute the door was shut behind them. Mr. Barker raised an eyebrow at me, and I gave him a shrug before returning to the drawing room to clean away the tea service.
As I was piling the plates and teacups together onto the tray, Mrs. Barker tsked at me to stop. She scolded, “That is not your job, Miss.”
“Well, no, but you have enough to do,” I said, picking up the tray and moving to the door with it.
She stopped me before I could get very far and removed it from my hands. “Yes, well, while you were entertaining, two girls and a young man from the village came and offered their services here. Would you be interested in hiring them, Miss? I know their families, and they are very honest young people. I am certain they would be hard workers.”
I opened the door for Mrs. Barker to go through with the tray and followed her to the kitchen saying, “Yes, I would be interested. You and Mr. Barker certainly need the help. Not that I need so much, but the house does need to be looked after.”
“And if we’re going to get any more visitors like Lady Hollingsworth and Lady Shipley, then it would look better if you had a larger staff,” Mrs. Barker added.
“Well, I don’t know how many more visitors we’re going to get after today,” I admitted, feeling just the slightest touch of guilt for having scared off those two ladies.
Mrs. Barker gave me a look as if she were my governess rather than my housekeeper. But I just returned it with a smile and a little shrug.
“How was your visit with Lady Hollingsworth?” Lord Marcus asked by way of greeting me that night.
“How do you know about that?” I asked, settling down on my usual bench.
I know it was odd, but I felt much more connected when I spoke to his portrait. At least I had a face to look at, instead of simply a disembodied voice to speak to. I probably could have sat anywhere in the room and still have spoken to him as I was, but as I said, this was more comfortable.
“I generally know what goes on here, Miss Grace,” he said.
I could just picture him lifting his chin as he said that, as if to say, “This is my house, and I know everything that goes on it, naturally.”
I smiled, and very nearly laughed at his high-handed tone. “Ah, I see,” I managed to say without losing my composure.
“So?” he prompted me again.
“What? Oh yes, Lady Hollingsworth. Well, if you know that she came, you also know that Lady Shipley was here as well.”
“Yes, I was aware of that.”
I listened for more, but there didn’t seem to be anything else forthcoming.
“She said that she very nearly married you but chose Lord Shipley instead because you never went to town.”
He gave a laugh at that. “She didn’t marry me because I didn’t offer.”
I laughed. “That’s very much what I thought might have happened.”
“Her mother tried her hardest to get me to come up to scratch, and Constance as well. The both of them threw her cap at me again and again.”
“But you weren’t interested?” I asked.
“No,” he said shortly. Somehow, he had lost the humor in his voice. Perhaps he was thinking of someone else. Rachel?
There was a pause and then I said, “They did ask about you, however.”
“They did?” This was with genuine surprise.
“Yes. Well, Lady Shipley asked how I managed to live in a house that was haunted.”
“I do hope you told them that it was not haunted.”
“No, of course not. I told them the truth. I do hope you don’t mind, but I said that we had become friends. We have become friends, haven’t we, my lord?” I asked with a hollow yet hopeful feeling in my stomach.
There was the briefest pause and then he said in a soft voice, “Yes, Laia, we have.”
Good feelings, relief, and warmth at the tone of his voice rushed through me. He had called me Laia. Such intimacy echoed my feelings for him.
“But you should not have admitted as much to Lady Hollingsworth,” he continued.
“Why not?”
“Because now they probably think you slightly insane,” he answered with a little laugh in his voice.
I shrugged. What did I care if she did? She didn’t mean anything to me, and I certainly was not out to impress her. “At least now they won’t bother me anymore.” “
“No. But they won’t come to visit you either.”
“That’s true, but they haven’t exactly been very nice the two times we’ve met, so I think I may do very well without them,” I said a bit defensively.
“Don’t you wish for company?”
“Yes, I suppose. Although I am quite happy with yours.”
“But, Laia...”
“May I call you Marcus?” I asked, interrupting him. If he was going to call me by my Christian name, I thought it only fair that I be allowed to do the same.
He sighed but said, “Yes, of course you may.” There was another pause and then he said, “I must admit that I don’t have any particular fondness for Lady Hollingsworth or her daughter, but they are two of a very few ladies here in this area.”
“Well, thank goodness for that,” I said vehemently. “With ladies like them, I think I may be very happy without such company.”
“But, Laia, you’re lonely. I can see that.”
“Lonely? Me?” I nearly laughed out loud even as a sharp pain dug into my abdomen, attesting to the truth of his words.
“If you weren’t, why would you sit here and speak with me every night?”
“Marcus, will you go on with your story?” I asked, since it was so much easier to change the subject than try to figure out a remedy for my loneliness. A little niggling voice in the back of my mind reminded me that I was supposed to be lonely. I was here as a punishment for being too forward. I hadn’t told Marcus about that, however, and I didn’t think I wanted to just yet.
“Yes. Of course,” he said, after he made sure there was nothing more I wanted to say about my loneliness.
“My mother’s fears were well justified,” he began. “I must admit, I had always dismissed her tears as simply a natural part of her nervous disposition. But in this case, I’m afraid, they were w
ell warranted.”
Months after we had last heard from Peter, Barker came running into my study. Henry had returned, he told me. Alone.
“Alone?” I gasped.
“Yes. He has been injured and is exhausted from his journey, but he asked that you come to see him at the vicarage.”
Why was my brother not with him, I wondered, confused and worried.
Before leaving to see him, I made sure my mother had not and would not hear of Henry’s return. I needed answers before I could risk her hearing any sort of rumors. As much as it terrified me, I wanted to be the one to break the news to her. I was sure that only I could do so gently enough not to send her into a fit.
The vicarage was absolutely quiet when I was let in. The footman greeted me in whispers, but with a broad smile on his face. Oh yes, they were all happy here, their son had returned from the wilds of America. A sour taste filled my mouth as I went up the steps to Henry’s bedchamber.
The vicar greeted me with restrained joy as I entered the room. “Ah, my lord, welcome. Please come in.”
I gave Mr. Collier a nod of greeting and then turned to Henry who lay in his bed.
His arm was in a sling, and I could see the remnants of bruising about his face. At the sight of him, I have to admit, I began to have trouble breathing. If this is what Henry looked like... No! I couldn’t think of Peter just yet. I didn’t think I could bear to.
“Henry. Welcome home,” I said as kindly as I could.
“Thank you, Marcus. It’s good to be home.”
We stared at each other for a moment. I, trying to contain my enmity, Henry trying not to look guilty.
“I, I am sorry,” he said finally.
I dropped into the chair that sat by the bed. I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to breathe again if my brother was no longer breathing... But I was jumping ahead of myself. “Is he...” I asked.
“With the Indians,” Henry said.
“What?” I jumped from the chair. “You left him with the savages?”
“I had no choice! “Henry said, sitting up and showing some animation for the first time.
Mr. Collier rushed over and gently guided his son back down onto his pillows.
“Tell me everything,” I said, trying to keep my fury from overtaking my common sense.
Henry’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his skinny throat. “We were told that the best place to set up a trading business with the Native Americans was in Boston,” he began.
I nodded. Peter had written to us from there.
“We were also told that the Native Americans liked whiskey. So we bought some horses and a wagon and filled it with cases of cheap liquor.” He swallowed again.
His father offered him a cup of tea, which he took a sip from and then continued. “We bought a map for an exorbitant fee, I have to say…”
“But Peter was paying for it, so what did you care?” I said, sure the malice in my voice would be heard loud and clear. It was.
“I did care! We only had a limited amount of money. We were trying to be as frugal as possible,” he said, defending himself.
I bit back another retort, and instead said, “Go on. You bought a map and set out for these Indians?”
“Yes. It took us nearly three weeks to find them, but we managed. I almost wish now that we hadn’t,” he added, lowering his eyes and looking forlorn for the first time since I’d come in.
“What happened?” I asked, trying to gentle my voice somewhat.
Henry closed his eyes for a moment. “They attacked us. We went into their village with all good intentions. Showed them what we had to trade and they attacked us!”
I shook my head, confused. “Why?”
“The chief said that he didn’t want any more of our firewater—that’s what they call whiskey. They wanted weapons: guns, knives, and blades. He sent his men to our wagon where they smashed everything we’d brought, and then set fire to the damn thing. You’ve never seen such a blaze! All that whiskey up in flames. They didn’t stop there. They grabbed me and Peter and beat us until we were both black and blue and could barely stand. Then they shoved me back toward one of the horses and told me to leave. I scrambled up onto it and got the hell out of there while I could.”
I stood up again. “Leaving Peter?”
“It was that or they were going to kill me! They told me to get gone and not to come back until I had what they wanted. Only when they got their weapons would they let Peter go.”
“So you left.”
“Hell, yes!”
“And did you get the weapons?” I asked. “Did you go back?”
“No. I… I just had enough money to buy my passage back to England.”
I think my mouth must have dropped open, but I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t say a word.
Mr. Collier quickly came around to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me away from Henry’s bed. “Remember son, he’s injured. He’s been through a lot,” the vicar said nervously.
And well he should have been frightened. I was ready to do much, much more damage to Henry than those Indians had. I was ready to kill him. He’d left my brother alone with angry savages. God only knew what they were doing to Peter, how they were treating him, if they were feeding him. These were not civilized men with a code of honor. These were… Hell, I didn’t know what they were beyond the barbaric stories that I’d heard.
Before I did actually do him bodily harm, I turned on my heel and left. I had to do something. I had to go and find my brother. But first, I had to tell my mother what had happened.
I feared facing her so much more than I feared facing a whole tribe of Native Americans.
“My mother was inconsolable,” Marcus said, his voice low and gruff.
I stayed quiet, fascinated by his tale.
“I had never seen her so upset as when I told her what Henry had related to me. She cried. She cried hysterically for the rest of the afternoon. I tried to get her to stop. I even gave her some laudanum in order to calm her nerves. But it wasn’t enough.”
“He’s dead,” she cried. “He’s dead.”
Marcus paused. “I tried to convince her that he wasn’t. I tried to explain to her that he had simply been taken hostage, and I was going to get him and bring him home. She wouldn’t listen to me.
“She wouldn’t or couldn’t believe that I could do this.” His voice became louder. “All of my life I have looked after my brother, and now, now when it meant the most, she didn’t have faith in me. Why didn’t she listen to me? Why didn’t she trust me?” His voice resonated throughout the long gallery. His anguish painfully bleeding through his words. He stopped, his voice shifting into a pain-filled whisper, “She didn’t believe me. She was certain that Peter was dead, and she died because of it that very night.”
“Oh, Marcus,” I said, my own voice quiet with emotion. Hastily, I wiped away the tears that were sliding down my cheeks.
“Do you know what she said to me just before she died?” he asked rhetorically. “She said, ‘You killed him. You killed him when you allowed him to go. How could you kill my son?’”
There was a long pause, and once again, I had to wipe away my tears.
“I’ll never forget those words. Because she was right.”
“No! No, Marcus. You tried your best to stop him.”
“NO! I didn’t try hard enough! I should have locked him up in his room. I should have forbidden him from stepping one foot out of the door. But I didn’t. I gave him the money he needed. I KILLED MY BROTHER!” The words echoed through the house. But as the sound died away, there was nothing to replace it.
The dead of the night crept in in silence.
Chapter Eleven
I couldn’t believe the letter in my hand. If I didn’t see the words as they nearly swam before my eyes, I would never have believed them.
Rose was coming to visit! Here, to Marshfield. What in the world was my sister thinking?
I leaned my elbows on the edge of the green chair in Marc
us’ study, which had quickly become my favorite place to sit, and read further along in the letter.
“I was so sorry to hear the account of your visit to your neighbor, Lady Hollingsworth. I know what a social creature you are, and to not even have the benefit of the neighboring gentry, I think is simply too difficult a thing for you to bear entirely on your own.”
Clearly, my father didn’t think it too harsh since she didn’t say a word about bringing me back to London with her.
It wasn’t fair. How could he continue with this punishment? I’d been here for three very long weeks, and he still showed no signs of relenting and allowing me to come home. And now Rose was coming for a visit? What was I going to do?
But wait, she said that she was bringing a party?
I picked up her letter again.
“We will be accompanied by a few friends,” the letter informed me.
We. Well, that had to mean she and my brother-in-law, Fungy, I supposed. Unless she meant her and my sister, Thalia. She couldn’t possibly mean my father. I didn’t think that he would journey all this way; he hated long trips.
No, I decided. She had to mean her and Fungy, which was very nice. I liked my brother-in-law a great deal. He was the sweetest of men; thoughtful and always full of the latest gossip. But I just couldn’t imagine him outside of London. He was the ultimate dandy!
“And a few friends,” she said. I nearly collapsed back into my chair. That had to mean Fungy’s friends, the Marquis of Merrick, Viscount Reath, and the Earl of Huntley, along with their respective wives. Oh, my God! What was I to do? I couldn’t possibly entertain so many people. There was certainly room in the house, if one counted all of the many rooms, which were still in Holland covers and hadn’t been opened for the past goodness knows how many months, if not years.
I think I might have let out a little whimper.
And then there was the matter of staff, or lack thereof. The Barkers were wonderful, and the daily had managed to stay this whole time, but that was all we had. Mrs. Barker mentioned hiring a few more people from the village, but I wasn’t sure if she’d spoken to them yet.
If it were just Rose coming, I wouldn’t worry. In fact, I’d eagerly seek out her thoughts and opinions on my nightly companion. There wouldn’t be a moment’s worry about accommodations or lack of comforts and staff. She was as used to living without these conveniences as I was. But Fungy? And his friends?
My Lord Ghost Page 10