Finally, she gave a little nod. “Very well. But Lady Hollingsworth and her daughter are still coming tonight. We can’t change that. At the very least, let us try to mend that fence.”
“Or knowing Fungy, she’ll quickly realize that one shouldn’t insult anyone he cares for,” I said with a laugh, turning my head this way and that as I looked at Stephanie’s work in the mirror. “You’ve done a beautiful job, as always, Stephanie. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, I’m sure,” she said, giving a little twist to a curl hanging by my cheek
Rose fiddled with her fan, opening and closing it. “I have to admit, the main reason I dragged Fungy and the others all the way here was so that we could return with a glowing report of how well you were doing for Papa. I was sure that we’d find you more than ready to return to London,” she confided. “It never occurred to me that you would be happy here.”
“I thought you came to put the house to rights?” I asked. She had gotten an amazing start on doing just that from what I’d heard very briefly from Mrs. Barker, who just couldn’t say enough about Mrs. Fotheringay-Phipps and Lady Huntley.
“Well yes, that’s what I told the Huntleys and Mr. Haston, but truly it was to see how you were doing and help you return faster.”
“Oh.” I didn’t know what to say. What she was doing was exactly what I’d wanted when I first arrived, but now... now I didn’t know. Just to get off the subject as quickly as I could, since it was clearly something I needed to think about, I asked, “And Mr. Haston? Why did you bring him?”
A smile crept onto my sister’s face. “Just to remind you of what you’re missing, to give you a taste of what you’ll soon have this coming spring when you make your debut. And I thought you liked him.”
“I do like him. He’s funny and a wonderful companion for a drive in the park, but he’s kind of a fish out of water here, don’t you think?”
Rose gave a laugh. “Yes! He is, isn’t he? I’ve never seen anyone look so uncomfortable outside of London.”
“I’m surprised he agreed to come,” I said, standing up. Stephanie reached out to retie the ribbon on my dress into a nicer bow than I had managed.
“I think he likes you a great deal,” my sister confided. “In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was the first to come up to scratch, after you’ve been presented. But he is being so good in waiting until you’ve had a chance to survey the field, so to speak.”
“Oh, goodness! Do you think so? Do you really think he wants to marry me?” I asked, slightly horrified. I liked Mr. Haston, but a more empty-headed man I couldn’t imagine.
“Of course! Do you think you might...?”
“No! I’m afraid our father and Fungy have completely spoiled me for intelligent men,” I admitted.
Rose smiled. “Yes, I have to agree. I’m afraid that you, like me, needs someone who can hold a real conversation about thoughtful subjects.”
“I don’t necessarily need an archeologist, like you were hoping for when you were on the market, but I do need someone with more in his head than the cut of his coats.”
Rose was laughing behind her hand, I could see it in her eyes, but she said nothing beyond, “If you’re ready, shall we go down and see if the gentlemen and Cassandra are there?”
I gave a nod, mentally preparing myself for a long evening.
Chapter Thirteen
When we got downstairs to the formal drawing room, Fungy and Mr. Haston were already there.
“Oh, my!” I said, absolutely unable to contain my admiration. “Now this is what I miss the most about London.”
Mr. Haston gave me a confused smile. “What is that, Miss Grace?”
“You and your splendor, of course.” I said with a laugh. “Fungy, you and Mr. Haston are absolutely...oh...” I snapped open my fan and started waving it in front of my face to ensure I didn’t turn too pink from the heat I could feel rushing to my face.
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment,” my brother-in-law said. He was in a bottle-green double-breasted coat with matching trousers. His neckcloth was tied into what I believe was called a waterfall, from the lovely flow of it down from the high, starched collar at his neck. And his waistcoat was a brilliant yellow with matching gold embroidery. In short, he was magnificent and I felt absolutely plain in my demure, pale peach-colored gown with a matching shawl. It was appropriate for a new debutant, but he quite put me into the shade and I said so.
“But you look lovely,” Mr. Haston protested. He looked nearly as magnificent as Fungy, but in a slightly overwhelming shade of peacock blue.
“Thank you, sir, but I say I feel quite out of my league when I’m with the two of you,” I answered with a smile as I folded away my fan again.
“Oh, I’m with you,” Lady Huntley said, coming further into the drawing room. “The two of you are complete to a shade!”
“Why, thank you, my lady,” Fungy said, bowing over her hand.
She was dressed beautifully in a brilliant red silk gown that looked as if it had been sewn from one of the saris of Lord Huntley’s homeland—he was Anglo-Indian and had grown up, as I understood it, in Calcutta. He must have lived an absolutely fascinating life. I’ve long wished for the opportunity to discuss it with him, but now was not the time.
“Lady Hollingsworth and Lady Shipley,” Mr. Barker announced from the entrance to the drawing room.
The two ladies came in, Lady Hollingsworth looking proud and confident, Lady Shipley with some hesitation as if she wasn’t certain she wanted to be here.
I did what was expected and welcomed them warmly. Rose gave me a nod of approval as I did so.
“May I make you known to my sister, Mrs. Fotheringay-Phipps? And I believe you know my brother-in-law?” I said.
Lady Hollingsworth extended her hand to Fungy. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Fungy.”
“The pleasure is mine, my lady,” he said, bowing over her hand. He then turned to greet Lady Shipley. “So lovely to see you again, Lady Shipley. I believe the last time we met was at Lady Chatworth’s ball.”
“Indeed,” she said, her voice hardly above a whisper.
“Oh, isn’t that where you said you met Lord Shipley?” I asked.
Lady Shipley looked startled. “Er, yes. What an excellent memory you have, Miss Grace.”
I introduced the rest of my guests. They were both clearly quite impressed with the company I kept.
After we were all seated with a glass of wine I hadn’t even known was in the house, Fungy stood and offered a toast. “To friends and neighbors, may the neighbors become friends and friends neighbors.”
“Hear, hear!” Lord Huntley said, raising his glass.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’ve welcomed my dearest sister to your neighborhood,” Fungy continued. “It was so difficult for us to see her removed so very far away from us in London, but knowing you are nearby has given me and my wife such comfort.”
“Oh!” Lady Shipley gasped. She looked guiltily from me to her mother.
While trying to keep my eyes demurely lowered, I peeked up to see Lady Hollingsworth white as a sheet.
I wasn’t quite sure how to react. What Fungy was doing was very nearly cruel, since he knew what sort of reception I’d received from these two ladies.
Lady Hollingsworth cleared her throat. She obviously wasn’t going to sit still and take this. “Perhaps you are not aware, Fungy, that Miss Grace had the nerve to come and introduce herself to me?”
He burst out laughing as if she’d made a joke. “I’m sure she did!” He gave me a broad smile. “That’s our Laia. So bold and friendly.”
“Oh, but truly, how else was she to meet you? She knew no one in the neighborhood. I’m certain I would have been at a loss to do anything else,” Lady Huntley commented.
“I’m certain that if you had done the same thing, no one would have thought anything of it, Lady Huntley,” Lady Hollingsworth said. “But a young girl like Miss Grace...”
“Had no other choice,” Lady Huntley interrupted. “Just because I’m a countess, doesn’t make it any better or worse. As I’m sure you’ll agree, manners are manners.”
Lady Hollingsworth said nothing.
There was an awkward silence, which grated on my nerves so much I finally said, “You should have seen Fungy this morning when we went out to tour the estate with Mr. Hancock. He looked just like something out of one of the fashion magazines. He looked absolutely magnificent!”
“Why thank you, Laia,” my brother-in-law said, pulling at his coat and preening a bit.
“And Mr. Haston looks good enough to be depicted there as well this evening, don’t you agree?”
“You are too kind, Miss Grace,” Mr. Haston said, giving me a small bow. “One does strive for perfection in one’s attire.”
“Some do, some don’t,” Lady Huntley said, giving her husband a pointed look and an affectionate smile.
“I always strive to look my best,” Lord Huntley protested.
“You do, my love, but you don’t always succeed.”
The teasing happily continued until dinner, when Lady Hollingsworth did what I had been dreading ever since Rose told me she was coming.
“I simply don’t understand how Miss Grace can stand to live here with that ghost, and how you can allow her to do so,” she said, as if she were commenting on the weather, before taking a sip of her wine.
My sister smiled as if she wasn’t sure whether Lady Hollingsworth was making a joke or not. “I don’t believe we’ve heard anything about a ghost. Laia?” She turned to me for clarification.
“Oh, did I forget to mention it? Yes. This house is haunted,” I said in as off-hand a manner as Lady Hollingsworth had. Two could play at that game.
“A ghost! What fun!” Lady Huntley laughed.
“Does she rattle chains and moan?” Fungy asked.
“He’s a man, er, was a man,” I clarified. “He does moan but so far no chains,” I said happily. “He is the previous owner of the estate, Lord Marcus Bolingbrook.”
“Oh my!” Lady Huntley said, clearly intrigued.
Lord Huntley just laughed and shook his head. “There is no such thing as ghosts. How ridiculous you all are being.”
“Just you wait, my lord,” Lady Hollingsworth said. “If he hasn’t made himself known to you yet, I’m sure he will.”
Luckily, most everyone took this to be a great joke. I prayed that Marcus would continue to keep quiet.
I was lying in bed that night, wondering if I should get up and go to see Marcus, even though I had told him that I wouldn’t. It just seemed so odd that I shouldn’t go speak to him.
I realized with a touch of surprise that I had come to count on, and truly enjoy, our conversations each night. Now without him, I felt lonely.
But then I heard it. It began quietly, so quietly that I thought that I must have been imagining it. But soon it grew louder and then even louder. Yes, it was Marcus and he was crying. The mournful sounds filled the air all around me.
I jumped out of bed and was about to rush to the gallery, when I heard a man’s voice in the hallway just outside of my room.
“What the hell is that?” he said.
I opened my door to find Lord Huntley and Mr. Haston standing near my door.
“I am so sorry, gentlemen,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Take care it of it? What do you mean? What is it?” Fungy asked, coming out of the room he was sharing with my sister.
“It, it’s the ghost. I’ll see what the matter is and speak to him.”
“Speak to him?” Lord Huntley and Fungy said in unison.
“There really is a ghost?” Mr. Haston said at the same time.
“Yes. Please, just return to your rooms. It’ll be fine.” With that, I ran off to the gallery through the dark, since I hadn’t had time to light my candle.
“Marcus, what is it? What’s wrong?” I asked as I ran down the gallery toward his portrait.
The moaning was even louder here and reverberated through the entire long room.
“Please, Marcus, stop. You are scaring my guests and worrying me to no end. Please, my dear, stop.” I stepped closer to the painting. “It’s all right. It’s going to be all right, now.” I said as soothingly as possible.
The groans began to quiet, and finally I heard a desperate voice say, “Laia? Laia? Is that you?”
“Yes, my dear Marcus. Of course it’s me.”
“Thank God, you are here. Thank God.”.
“What’s the matter? What’s causing you to cry out like this?” I asked as gently as I could.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” was all he managed to say.
“It’s all right. Please, just tell me what has you so upset?”
“I, I was, I thought I was there.”
“Where?”
“In America. With the Indians,” he whispered.
I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t. My goodness, the poor thing must have been thinking about how he had died. I took a shuddering breath and managed to say, “It’s all right, Marcus. You are here. Safe, here at Marshfield.”
“Yes. I am at Marshfield,” he reassured himself. “Laia...” he began.
“Yes, Marcus.”
“Will you stay with me? Please. I know you need to sleep in order to be with your guests tomorrow, but please, could you stay just a little while?”
“Of course! You know I am always happy to be with you and to talk with you.”
He sniffed. “Thank you. You are very good to me.”
I gave a little laugh and sat down on the bench. “Shall I tell you what we have been up to today? You will be quite shocked at all that my sister and Lady Huntley managed to get done in just one day. My goodness, they’ve done more in this one day than I have managed in over three weeks!”
He gave a little laugh and encouraged me to go on. For the next hour, I told him all that the women had accomplished in putting the house in order, hiring staff, making sure the larder was properly stocked, and so many other things I hadn’t paid any attention to at all. I told him about my ride around the estate with Lord Huntley and Fungy. Lord Huntley had been very impressed with everything he saw, and Fungy had been very polite. Marcus laughed at this. Apparently, he knew Fungy and exactly what sort of fellow he was.
“He was actually there to assess Mr. Hancock, something my sister asked him to do,” I explained.
“Oh? And what did he think?”
“He agreed with your opinion of him, that he truly has the best interests of the estate in his heart.”
“This is good. And I suppose that other gentleman, what’s his name, is enjoying your attention, at least,” Marcus said.
“Mr. Haston? Well, what little I give him,” I admitted. “I’m afraid it is not nearly enough to satisfy a man like him.”
“Nothing would be enough.”
“No, but he is a gentleman about it,” I added.
Marcus laughed. “It must be terribly difficult for him with you being so far away.”
“Oh, I’m sure he has plenty to occupy his time,” I said.
“But he doesn’t have you, which naturally makes all the rest much less amusing,” he said.
I laughed and quite possibly blushed. “Marcus, you aren’t flirting with me, are you?”
“Who me?” he laughed again.
“And you can’t possibly be jealous!”
It was odd, but he didn’t laugh as I expected him to at that remark. In fact, he was strangely silent. “I think you are...” He paused.
“Bound for bed!” I finished, saving him from any possible embarrassment.
“Yes! Yes, that is exactly right,” he said, the relief palpable in his voice. “Good night, my dear.”
“Good night, Marcus.”
It wasn’t until morning that all hell broke loose.
Chapter Fourteen
I was finishing my breakfast in the company of a very silent,
pale Lady Huntley when her husband strode into the room.
“I have informed your maid and the other servants to pack up and be ready to leave within the hour,” he said to his wife.
She put down her teacup, from which she’d been sipping only occasionally, nodded, then turned to me. “You will come with us, won’t you, Laia?”
“I am so sorry, Lady Huntley,” I said again, for probably the fifteenth time that morning.
She shook her head and said again, “You must come. We can’t simply leave you here with that... that thing!”
“But it’s all right, really. I mean, he has been so much better recently.”
Rose came into the room before either one of them could argue any further. “We’re just about ready to go.” She turned to me. “Laia, why aren’t you packing?”
I turned around to face her. “I’m not going with you.”
My sister opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again. With a heavy breath, she finally said, “I don’t know that Fungy would be willing to leave you behind, and frankly, I’m not certain it’s a good idea either.”
“Rose...”
“I know! You don’t scare easily. Neither do I. It’s the way we were raised, but Fungy isn’t like us.”
“It’s not just a matter of being frightened, Rose,” Lady Huntley said. “It’s a matter of her safety.”
“Oh, I doubt a ghost would hurt her,” Rose said. “She hasn’t done anything to anger it.” She turned to me. “Have you?”
“No. I haven’t. In fact, I’ve befriended him.”
“Really?” Rose said, sitting down next to me to hear more.
“Can one befriend a ghost?” Lady Huntley asked, intrigued.
“Yes. I know it’s not easy to believe, but soon after I got here I began talking to him, and then he began to talk to me,” I said with a shrug.
“Laia, there are no such things as ghosts!” Lord Huntley said as if stating an immutable fact. “It is only Cassandra’s unease that has us leaving so quickly.”
“But there are. There is. You heard him. And I speak to him every night,” I said.
My Lord Ghost Page 13