One Haunted Evening (Haunted Regency Series Book 1)

by Ava Stone

  Blood coursed through her veins as she readied herself for the day. It had been two long, excruciating days since she’d seen Alastair, and he’d not been able to visit her on the day he’d promised due to the torrential rains.

  At least, she hoped that was what kept him from coming. It was possible he’d thought things over and decided he didn’t want anything to do with her at all.

  Daphne shook her head, trying to rid her mind of such thoughts. This was no time for self-doubt. She had her brother’s blessing, and she’d not waste it. She would have to postpone it, however.

  Her eyes landed on the dozens of jars that filled up their kitchen table, and her heart sank just a bit. She’d forgotten all about them. But her customers had been waiting to receive their deliveries just as long as she’d been waiting to see Alastair, and she and Graham were in no position to delay their income. Daphne needed to deliver the rum butter today.

  Crestfallen that she couldn’t rush right to Marisdùn , she began to prepare her breakfast of toast and tea. In the process, she discovered the note from Graham.

  Mrs. Cullen’s baby has come down with fever. If you need me, I’ll be there.

  Love,

  Graham

  Daphne sent up a little prayer for the Cullen baby. Anytime anyone took ill, she worried for them, but she always worried quite a bit more when it was a babe.

  With breakfast done, she loaded her little wagon with the jars of rum butter and then set off to make her deliveries. The weather was quite a bit crisper than it had been the last time she left the house. Winter was most certainly on its way. She wrapped her coat more tightly around her as she walked across the street to the inn. The pub there stocked her rum butter to use on top of their bread pudding. The rest of her deliveries were to individuals, most on the outskirts of town. With the wind so strong and biting, it took Daphne longer than usual to get to everyone. It was almost noon by the time she returned home, and there was still no sign of Graham.

  She’d thought to perhaps wait and see if Alastair called on her this afternoon, but after a few minutes of puttering about their small home, she felt as if she might go out of her mind. She needed to see him. She needed to know if their two days apart had changed anything for him.

  Daphne threw her coat over her shoulders and once again set out into the cold. Within fifteen minutes, she stood at the front door to Marisdùn Castle, awaiting someone to grant her entry. But no one ever came.

  “Hm…” She peered into the foyer through one of the cut glass panes that flanked the door. A little maid scurried past the staircase and disappeared down the corridor, but beyond that, there wasn’t a soul to be found.

  She peered around, observing the porch and the front drive, then she turned her attention to the door handle. Should she go in? Or should she knock again?

  When the next knock went unheeded, she reached for the handle and opened the door herself. Once she’d stepped inside, she shut the door behind her, and began to divest herself of her coat and hat.

  The castle was quiet. A little too quiet, if you asked her.

  “Hello?” she called, folding her coat over her arm. “Is anyone here?”

  A moment later, Bendle emerged from a room down the corridor. He seemed rather alarmed to find her standing there alone in the middle of the foyer.

  “Miss Alcott,” he said, rushing toward her. “My deepest apologies. There’s so much chaos here today, I didn’t even hear your knock.”

  “It’s quite all right, Bendle, but what is going on?”

  The man was breathing heavily, and his aged eyes held a fair amount of concern. “I-I’m not certain I should tell you.”

  Now Daphne was more than curious. “Is everyone all right?” A pit settled in her stomach. What if it was Alastair? Had something happened to him?

  “Well, we aren’t quite certain.”

  She’d had enough of this cryptic conversation. “Bendle, I insist you tell me what is going on. Now.”

  The poor man looked terrified, but Daphne would not back down. She had to know what was happening here.

  “It’s Miss Eilbeck.” Bendle began to wring his hands together.

  Daphne took a step closer, the pit growing ever larger in her belly. “What about her?”

  “She’s…missing.”

  “Missing?” Daphne narrowed her eyes. “For how long?”

  Bendle shook his head. “An hour, perhaps? Everyone is looking for her, searching every nook and cranny of the castle. But she hasn’t turned up yet.”

  “And who was the last person to see her?”

  “Lord Quent.” Bendle stared at her, his lips twitching slightly, as if he had more to say.

  “Go on,” she said. “Tell me what Lord Quent did.”

  “Oh, no. It’s not that. Lord Quent didn’t do anything, he just…saw her disappear.”

  Daphne raised her eyebrows. “Disappear?” she repeated, lacing her tone with skepticism.

  “Mrs. Small believes the castle has taken her.”

  No. Not possible. That story about Mrs. Routledge was only that: a story. A tall tale meant to frighten and delight visitors to the area, and nothing more.

  “And you, Bendle?” she asked, slowly. “What do you believe?”

  He took a deep breath and pulled himself up taller. “I have worked here many years, Miss Alcott, and I’ve seen many things that cannot be explained.”

  He wasn’t going to admit one way or the other, but that was enough to make her think he was leaning toward Mrs. Small’s opinion, which didn’t set Daphne at ease in the least.

  She held out her coat and hat for Bendle to take. “Where is everyone?”

  “All over, miss.”

  Daphne bit her lip. “Where is Lord Wolverly?” she amended.

  “The East Wing.”

  Right. She looked around, unsure of how to access the East Wing. Finally, Bendle took pity on her.

  “Down that corridor, to the left. You’ll see a staircase only slightly smaller than this one.”

  “Thank you, Bendle.” She hiked up her skirts and took off at an unladylike run down the corridor, following the butler’s instructions until she arrived at the staircase.

  It was colder here in this part of the house. Perhaps there were more spirits here? Or perhaps it was simply a draftier area that went neglected. Surely the dust on the banister would indicate as much.

  Daphne climbed the stairs until she found herself on a landing, nearly cloaked in darkness. The only light came from a small window at the end of the long corridor of rooms. She wrapped her arms about herself, squeezing tightly, and wishing she had kept her coat with her. It seemed colder here than it did out of doors.

  She was about to venture toward the first door, when she heard voices coming from the next floor up. Alastair.

  She raced up the staircase, and by the time she reached the landing, she was quite out of breath. But he was there, just coming out of a room at the opposite end of the corridor, Mr. Garrick beside him.

  “Daphne,” he said, sounding a bit surprised to see her, but then he was coming toward her, his footsteps so sure and strong.

  He didn’t stop before her, as she’d expected him to. Instead, he careened into her, wrapping his arms around her back and pulling her close in his embrace. She felt the tension ease from him.

  “What the devil are you doing here?” he nearly spat.

  Daphne pulled back slightly to look up into his eyes. “Your words and your actions do not go hand-in-hand, sir,” she said. “Are you glad to see me or not?”

  Though it was meant as a joke, Alastair did not seem to find it as such. His brow furrowed with worry as he brought his thumb up to stroke her cheek. “A little of both, I’m afraid. I meant to come and see you this morning when I saw the weather had cleared, but just as I was about to saddle Jupiter, I received a summons to the gardens. It’s not safe for you here, Daphne. You must go back home and wait for me there.”

  “One of my very best frie
nds has apparently been swallowed up by a haunted castle and you expect me to sit at home and wait?” She could hardly believe he was suggesting such a thing.

  “Daphne,” he warned, but she wouldn’t be intimidated.

  She set her jaw and stared back at him with determination. “You won’t change my mind.”

  “But your condition.” He took her face between her hands. There was so much fear and worry in his eyes, Daphne hated to defy him so. But she wasn’t going anywhere until Callie was safe and sound, her condition be damned.

  “The only condition I need worry about is the condition of my dear friend. Now…” She looked over Alastair’s shoulder to Garrick, who leaned lackadaisically against the wall, shamelessly watching their interchange. “Are we going to stand here and argue all day, or are we going to demand the castle give up Miss Eilbeck?”

  Alastair must have realized he’d lost the battle, for he shook his head and took a couple steps back. “You heard the lady,” he said to Garrick. “Let’s find Miss Eilbeck.”

  Alastair had a mind to wring his future wife’s delicate little neck. This was no place for her to be right now. Though Alastair didn’t truly believe the castle itself had taken Miss Eilbeck, someone had. And that person could still be lurking about the grounds, looking for another young miss to abscond with. And what if something truly terrifying had happened? What if, in the most ridiculous of circumstances, there was something other-worldly going on? Could Daphne’s heart withstand such a terror?

  “Where have you looked already?” she asked, seemingly ready to take off into a run.

  “We have one more room on this floor to check,” Garrick said when Alastair couldn’t seem to find his tongue. Damn chit. “Then we still have the floor below.”

  “Garrick, you finish this floor, then.” She grabbed Alastair’s hand. “We’ll go down and start on those rooms.”

  Garrick nodded, and Daphne tugged on Alastair’s hand, causing him to lurch forward. She didn’t let go, dragging him all the way down the stairs. Part of him was rather put off that she was exercising such authority over the situation, yet another part of him found it somewhat arousing. What would she be like in the bedroom?

  He stifled a laugh. Surely she wouldn’t just lie there and let him have his way with her. Clearly, this was a girl who liked to be in charge every once in a while.

  “You search that side,” she said, pointing to one side of the corridor, “and I’ll search over here.”

  This was where Alastair drew the line. “No,” he said firmly. “We will stay together. Garrick can do that side when he gets here.”

  Daphne’s beautiful face stared up at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Are you mad?” she asked, and he had a feeling she was truly wondering if he had indeed lost his mind. “There isn’t time. Callie is missing, and who knows who has her.”

  “Exactly,” Alastair bit back, rather more bitterly than he intended. “Whoever it is might decide to take you, too.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” She flipped her head and walked away from him, into the first chamber on the left. He followed. When she realized this, she pursed her lips together and punched her hands to her hips. “Please don’t start that again,” she said, referring to when he’d followed her home the other day.

  “Did you not hear me?” he pressed.

  “No one is going to abduct me.”

  “I’m certain Miss Eilbeck thought the same thing this morning.”

  “Are you always this overbearing?”

  “Are you always this insubordinate?”

  They both shouted, “Yes!” at the same time in response.

  Alastair was the first to allow his lips to quirk into something of a smile. “Will this affect your decision?”

  She blinked at him. “My decision to what?”

  There was a long pause. Alastair stared at her, his future bride, his independent little fury, and he knew he’d rather spend a lifetime arguing with her than have a lifetime of peace and quiet with someone else. “Your decision to marry me.”

  There. That got her to be quiet. As a matter of fact, she seemed quite speechless, standing there, staring at him, her precious mouth agape. Damn, but he wanted to kiss those soft, pink lips. If only he didn’t think she’d slap him good for kissing her while her friend was missing.

  “Is this…are you…” She looked away and took a deep breath before facing him again. “Is that your proposal, my lord?”

  He feigned offense. “Good God, woman, what do you take me for? Of course it isn’t. I’ll have to ask your brother first, of course, and I would never think to propose in a haunted castle in the middle of a very serious hunt for my future wife’s very best friend.”

  The corners of her lips twitched. “Well, my answer is no.”

  Alastair felt as if someone had punched him squarely in the gut. He hadn’t even officially proposed yet, and she was already refusing his hand. Perhaps it was better he know sooner than later that she did not intend to marry him, but still…had he misread the signs? Had he misjudged their relations—

  “Your overbearing manner will have no effect on my decision,” she finished, and Alastair almost missed it for the roaring in his ears.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Daphne laughed, a tittering, lilting sound, and he realized she’d been teasing him. “Did I make you nervous, my lord?”

  He closed the distance between them and gently took her face in his hands, bringing her mouth to his. He kissed her in a way he was certain she’d never been kissed before, delving his tongue deep into her mouth. Tasting her, loving her with every stroke, every belabored breath.

  When he pulled away, he stared at her for a long moment, studying the beautiful face he’d come to love so much in such a short amount of time. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  The barest of smiles came to her lips. “Yes, my lord,” she said, breathlessly. And then she pushed against his chest, forcing him back a step or two. “Now, we must continue our search. Who knows what’s happened to poor Callie?”

  They searched and searched and searched, moving from the East Wing to the West, then back again, retracing steps they’d already taken. There was no sign of her anywhere. When Braden had made the announcement in the garden that morning, Alastair hadn’t been terribly concerned. He figured Callie must have simply been tucked away in a quiet part of the house reading a book or picking flowers out in the gardens. But now, as the sun was beginning to set on the horizon, Alastair had to admit to the pit that was forming in his stomach, telling him something wasn’t right.

  He looked to Daphne, who sat across from him in the carriage. He had to get her home before her brother began to worry, and certainly before the sun left them completely. He wasn’t even certain he wanted to stay in the castle tonight, but he’d most definitely not subject his delicate Daphne to whatever was going on there. It was enough she’d stayed the entire afternoon and worn herself down so with all their hunting.

  It was a short trip from Marisdùn to her home, but he couldn’t stop himself from moving to the other side of the carriage to take the spot next to her. It was untoward of him, really, but then wasn’t he planning to marry her? And hadn’t she all but agreed to it, pending her brother’s approval?

  She turned to him as he sat down beside her and gave a weak smile. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Alastair knew it was because she was concerned for her friend. And rightly so, though he wasn’t going to say that to her. She needed reassurance right now that Callie would be found whole and hearty.

  Wordlessly, he reached out for her and pulled her into his arms. She collapsed willingly against him, and only then did Alastair realize she was shaking. He held her even more tightly and pressed his lips to the top of her head. She smelled of sugar and rum, just like her famous butter. It was a smell that Alastair loved and he was rather glad that very soon he’d get to smell her anytime he wanted.

  She reached up to swipe away a tear. Alastair
pulled back slightly and crooked his finger beneath her chin, tipping her face up so he could see her better.

  “There, now,” he whispered. “I’m certain Miss Eilbeck is going to be all right.”

  Daphne shook her head. “She’s gone,” she squeaked back.

  Alastair wasn’t certain he could argue with that. She certainly wasn’t anywhere to be found in that castle. Though he was hesitant to believe the prevailing thought on the matter now: that the castle had taken her. It was foolishness, for sure. Perhaps Callie decided to run away from home. Or perhaps…

  He couldn’t think of any more possibilities. And it didn’t matter anyway. They were pulling up to Daphne’s home.

  John helped them down, and then Alastair walked her to the door.

  “Will you be all right?” he asked, stroking a hand down her cheek.

  She nodded. “Graham will be home soon, I’m certain. I think I will prepare a soothing tincture and go to bed.” Her eyes turned watery as she stared up at him. “Tomorrow is Sunday. I will go to church and pray for Callie.”

  Alastair wasn’t terribly religious, but he thought that was a good idea. “I will remain at the castle. I promise I won’t rest until your friend is safe.”

  Daphne flung herself into his arms, and he held her tightly against him for as long as she let him. Finally, she pulled back, gave him a wane smile, and then disappeared inside.

  John waited behind him with the carriage, and Alastair was about to board when he saw a familiar figure walking toward him. He didn’t care to delay Mr. Alcott from getting home and seeing to his sister’s safety, but now seemed as good a time as any to ask for Daphne’s hand. Alastair didn’t want to go another day without some kind of promise between them.

  He raised his hand in greeting. “Ho, there, Dr. Alcott,” he called when the man was close enough.

  “Lord Wolverly,” Dr. Alcott replied, his gaze darting from the carriage to his home and back again. “What brings you here this evening?”

  Alastair gestured to the pub across the street. “May I buy you a pint?”

  The doctor hesitated a moment, but then nodded his head. “That would be most welcome after the day I’ve had.”