One Haunted Evening (Haunted Regency Series Book 1)

by Ava Stone

  “Say no more!” Lockwell held up a hand, and a lock of his shimmering blond hair fell over his eye. “The Lockwell charm is all you need.” Then he looked to his brother. “Well, this half of the Lockwells, anyhow. Charm isn’t really Flit’s strongsuit.”

  Alastair had the feeling Flit wanted to stick his tongue out at his brother, but instead he simply rolled his eyes and gave a good-natured smile. “We’ll do our best,” he said. “You needn’t worry about the guests. Whatever you must do to get the young girl back, we will support you. But…” He pointed a finger around the room… “The ladies must not know any of this. We don’t want to upset them unnecessarily.”

  The rest of the men agreed, and then they all disbanded. Well, Alastair disbanded, that is. The rest of them went off to the billiards room. But Alastair had to go and see Daphne one last time before this evening. She had to know the plan, and he couldn’t wait until she arrived.

  Daphne flung open the door to find Alastair on the other side. Her heart fluttered and relief shot through her all at once. She threw herself into his arms, uncaring if anyone was watching. She needed to be near him, to feel his arms about her. The longer Callie was missing, the more frightened Daphne became.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said, her voice muffled against the woolen fabric of his coat.

  He squeezed her tightly, and then pulled back, keeping his hands clasped on her arms. “Are you well?”

  She smiled up at him. “I am now. Will you stay a while?”

  “Only a few minutes, I’m afraid.”

  A few minutes was better than nothing.

  Daphne pulled away and allowed him entry into the small house. He took a deep breath as he entered, and then smiled. “It smells like you,” he said.

  “I do hope that’s a good thing,” she replied, wondering what the house smelled like to him.

  “The best thing.” He winked at her. “Like rum and sugar. My two favorite smells in all the world.”

  In spite of all the fear and turmoil she felt over Callie’s disappearance, she smiled. How could she not?

  “Will you at least have some tea before you go back?”

  Alastair nodded. “I can be spared for an extra ten minutes, I suppose, though we are to act as though everything is normal at Marisdùn ,” he told her.

  “Of course.”

  “I’ve only come to tell you the plan according to Miss Glace.” Alastsair sat at the table, and Daphne placed a cup of tea before him. Once she had taken her place across from him, he began. “The banishment will take place tonight. With any luck, we will get rid of Mary Routledgeand get Callie back in exchange.”

  Daphne nodded. “Everyone’s always known Brighid’s true nature…except Brighid. Is she finally admitting to it?”

  Alastair gave a little chuckle. “She seems to be embracing it, for the sake of Miss Eilbeck. She’s the only option we have, and she knows it.”

  Daphne was silent for a moment, and then, with a tentative hand, she reached across the table and took Alastair’s hand. “I’m frightened,” she said at last.

  Alastair pulled her out of her chair and drew her across the small space, into his lap. An outsider might have seen this as a scandalous position for them to be in, but Daphne didn’t feel scandalous at all. She felt perfect. Safe. As if she were exactly where she was supposed to be.

  “I would be lying,” Alastair said, as he brushed a lock of hair from Daphne’s cheek, “if I said I wasn’t either. We both know what it’s like to lose someone—I will do all I can to prevent you from going through such a loss again.”

  It wasn’t the right time to ask, but she had to anyway. “Who did you lose?”

  “My parents. Both of them. My mother when I was young—almost too young to remember, though I have some vague memories of her. And my father while I was at Eton. That’s how Garrick became my closest friend. He invited me to spend Christmas with his family that year after Father died. I’ve spent Christmas with the Garricks ever since.”

  Daphne gave him a knowing smile. “He’s a good friend.”

  “When he’s not driving me to the brink of insanity.” Alastair’s words were harsh, but there was love behind them.

  They sat there for a moment, staring at one another, relishing the closeness. But finally, Alastair said, “I have to go.”

  Daphne nodded and eased off of his lap. “Please be careful tonight.”

  Alastair stood and took her in his arms, pressing his lips to her forehead for a lingering kiss. “I will come again in the morning.”

  Daphne wouldn’t be able to wait for him to come to her. “No,” she said. “I will come to Marisdùn first thing. I won’t be able to sleep anyhow.”

  “If you insist.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I shall see you in the morning.”

  With one last kiss to her lips, Alastair was gone.

  Alastair wasn’t terribly thrilled to have to be involved in this bizarre ceremony, but the little witch had deemed it imperative that he, and all his friends who had stormed the castle and stirred up the spirits, be present. Now they all sat gathered in a dungeon room, dimly lit with exactly five candles. The cloying scents of clove and garlic filled the space, making Alastair long for sweet, buttery smell of his betrothed.

  The witch stood at the head, an odd doll rested on the stones before her. Thorn, Garrick, Braden, Quent and Chetwey, along with Lord Patrick, Chetwey’s best friend since Harrow, made up the male contingent. The women were represented by Miss Glace, Mrs. Small and Lord Patrick’s wife, Laura, who also happened to be Chetwey’s sister.

  All was quiet until Miss Glace threw back her head and began chanting in an unidentifiable language. A gust of wind blew through the closed room, snuffing out the candles, which relit a moment later.

  A cold shiver raced down Alastair’s spine, but he held his place, and waited for it all to end.

  Lord Patrick suddenly shouted, “Now!” and everyone clasped hands.

  The chanting continued, the wind became more fierce, the doors and windows shook. Alastair had never been more terrified in his entire life. Not even when he’d learned his father had died, leaving him an orphan at twelve years of age.

  Alastair opened his eyes again, just in time to see a ball of flame shoot into the air and then disappear, and with it, all the winds and chaos of the last several minutes.

  And as she spoke the words, “Be sealed,” Miss Glace fell to the floor with a soft thud.

  Chetwey turned to ask, “Did it work,” before he realized what had happened. “Dear God.” He was by her side in an instant. “She’s freezing.”

  “Shall I call for Dr. Alcott?” Alastair asked, coming around the table to join his friend.

  “No,” Mrs. Small said, coming to her feet. “She’ll be fine. Let’s get her to her bed.”

  Alastair wasn’t convinced. They’d lost one young woman to the ghosts already—he didn’t care to lose another.

  Chetwey had the girl in his arms in but a moment, and was already carrying her off toward the stairs. Everyone was silent, probably as terrified and mystified as Alastair was. But desperate cries and groans drew all their attention to Braden. The poor man was going to go completely mad if Callie didn’t return soon. And frighteningly, his back was torn to shreds. It was Mrs. Small who pointed it out first, and despite Braden’s protests, Quent finally demanded she call for Dr. Alcott.

  Alastair didn’t sleep a wink after the banishment. He stayed up the night, pacing the library with a glass of scotch in hand. Thankfully, he wasn’t the only one who had trouble sleeping. By four in the morning, most of them were pacing the study, waiting for something to happen—for Miss Glace to wake up or for Callie to reappear—but neither of those things happened.

  As promised, Daphne arrived first thing in the morning, though her brother had arrived hours earlier to tend to the strange cuts on Braden’s back.

  As soon as Daphne crossed the threshold into the library, Alastair rush
ed to her side and led her to a far corner of the library.

  “Is it true she’s gone?” she asked once his arms were around her, holding her tightly against him. Damn, but she felt good. Perhaps he could have slept if she had been near him last night.

  “It would appear so.” Alastair pulled back to look into his betrothed’s beautiful blue eyes. “But there’s been no sign of Miss Eilbeck. We have to wait for Miss Glace to awaken to tell us what to do now.”

  Fear clouded Daphne’s eyes. “What if she never wakes?”

  He wouldn’t allow her to believe that. Hell, he wouldn’t allow himself to believe that. She had to awaken. They had to find Miss Eilbeck.

  At just before two in the afternoon, mere seconds after Chetwey left to go check on Miss Glace, he reappeared with her in tow. Awake, though not looking terribly well. She wrung her hands with worry, and Alastair couldn’t blame her, after all that had happened.

  Alcott was the first to speak. “See, Chetwey, I told you she would awaken. Spells do tend to take a lot out of a person, especially if they are not accustomed to harnessing their magic.” When Miss Glace stared at him as though he were mad, he continued, “I’ve always known, as did my father, Miss Glace. We just never spoke of it. My father said that your mother once slept for an entire twenty-four hours.”

  This brought on more frantic questions from the little witch. Bradenham apprised her of what had happened after the banishment, and then she finally asked, “What of Callie?”

  Everyone held a collective breath as she looked to Callie’s brother, Sir Cyrus. He shook his head.

  “She hasn’t emerged,” Bradenham said at last.

  Before he knew it, Bridghid was summoning Daphne forward, away from him. “Lila, Daphne and Sir Cyrus, you should come with me.”

  “Where to?” Miss Southward asked.

  Sir Cyrus seemed equally confused. “Why?”

  “You are closest to Callie. You might help me find her.”

  Sir Cyrus turned his gaze to Bradenham. “He is the one you need. He is the one she loves.”

  “And I love her,” Braden admitted without hesitation.

  Miss Glace seemed to consider this for a moment, and finally said, “Then you shall come as well.”

  Chetwey tried to stop her from leaving, though his words were too hushed for Alastair to hear. He might have tried to stop Daphne, too, were he in Chetwey’s position. The witch had been out cold ever since the last time she tried to use her magic. What if the next time was more permanent? But after a moment of bickering, Miss Glace turned on her heel and marched out the door.

  Daphne cast a sidelong glace to Alastair. He nodded to her, letting her know he wouldn’t try to stop her. Her throat worked over what appeared to be a lump, and then she followed the witch out the door. With any luck, she would return with Miss Eilbeck.

  Daphne followed Brighid all the way to the garden, her hand clasped with Lila Southward’s. This was all so very unnerving—it was good to have a friend to cling to. Not that Brighid wasn’t her friend, but she was rather preoccupied at the moment.

  Somewhere in the middle of the garden sat a crystal, and Brighid stopped before it.

  “Daphne, you go first.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Sit on the other side, close your eyes and think only of Callie.”

  Daphne did as she was told. She knelt down on the opposite side of the crystal, closed her eyes and, with a deep breath, conjured an image of her dear friend in her mind.

  After a couple of minutes, Brighid said, “The colors are shifting from lavender to blue but I cannot find an image.”

  “I tried,” Daphne told her, trying not to feel like a complete failure.

  Brighid smiled kindly at her. “I know. Now it is…” She turned to Callie’s brother. “Sir Cyrus, would you please do the same.”

  He offered to help Daphne up, and she accepted, trading places with him. He sat down and did the same as Daphne had done a minute before: Closed his eyes and focused on Callie.

  When Brighid frowned at the crystal, Lord Bradenham asked, “What is it?”

  “Nothing to be concerned with, I assure you,” she said. “But I did not see Callie.”

  Lord Bradenham looked toward the hedge, as if he were ready to take matters into his own hands. “This is ridiculous.”

  “She got rid of your great grandmother, didn’t she?” Chetwey said from a few paces away. Daphne hadn’t even realized he was with them. “Trust her in this.”

  “Lila, now it is your turn,” Brighid said, ignoring the two men.

  Lila scurried to take Cyrus’s place. Within moments, a smile spread across Brighid’s face, and Daphne sent up a little prayer that whatever they were doing was working. It had to work.

  “We are getting closer. This time I saw white. It is an excellent sign.” She turned to Bradenham. “If you don’t mind, Lord Bradenham.”

  “Why am I last?” he asked.

  “Because you love her the most, I believe, and I thought to build the connection.”

  Bradenham silently took Lila’s place.

  “Concentrate only on Callie.”

  “That is all I’ve been doing for the past several days.”

  “Braden,” Blake said, a warning tone in his voice.

  “Sorry.”

  Daphne watched her friend intently, wondering at every twitch, every lift of her brow, every furrow or half smile. Blast, what was happening?

  “Oh, pink.”

  What did that mean?

  Brighid reared back. “Red…Pink again, now white.”

  After another interminable minute, Brighid leaned forward with a gasp, her eyes focused on the crystal. And then, just like that, she sat back with a frustrated sigh. “She is gone.”

  Daphne’s heart hammered against her chest.

  “You saw her?” Braden asked.

  “Yes, but I can’t tell where she is. She is still among us though.”

  Thank God for that. But how the devil were they supposed to get her back?

  “What did she look like?” Braden sounded so hopeful. Daphne wanted to hope, too, but how could she? The situation was starting to seem more and more hopeless.

  When she didn’t answer, Daphne asked, “Now what do we do?”

  Brighid smiled. “We will bring her back just after midnight.

  “How?”

  “Much in the same manner as we banished Mrs….” Brighid looked around nervously. “You-know-who.”

  Braden was on his feet, ready to take action. “Will we need the same people, because I will make sure they are there?”

  Brighid shook her head. “I will need you, Sir Cyrus, Daphne, Lila and those closest to Callie.”

  “They will be here,” Bradenahm said.

  “But first,” Brighid said to Lord Bradenham. “You will meet me here shortly before midnight.”

  Daphne hugged her arms around herself as the carriage trundled toward Marisdùn Castle. She’d not wanted to leave the estate earlier that day, but Alastair and Graham had both insisted she go home and rest before the party. She’d gone reluctantly, and she hadn’t rested, of course. Her nerves were far too on edge to allow for that. The worst was being apart from Alastair, but what was she to do? She couldn’t very well show up for the party in her day dress, and Alastair had to tend to his guests so as to not raise suspicions.

  A shiver raced up her spine. How could she make merry at a time like this? It wouldn’t be easy, what with so many of them on edge, wondering where Callie was, and if they’d get her back tonight.

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Graham said from the other side of the carriage. He was staring out the window into the nothingness.

  “How could you?” Daphne replied, wringing her gloved hands. “Witches, ghosts, exorcisms, and worst of all, a missing girl. Not really the stuff dreams are made of.”

  “No, but certainly nightmares.”

  Daphne couldn’t argue there. And while she knew i
t was selfish of her, she couldn’t help but be upset that she was falling in love in the midst of all this. Why couldn’t she fall in love in springtime with flowers and butterflies everywhere instead of ghosts and terror?

  At least she was pleased with the way her costume had turned out this evening. Callie’s dress was perfect, and perhaps wearing something of hers would help in drawing her out of wherever she was.

  The carriage came to a stop. Daphne’s fingers were twitching to open the blasted door herself and run headlong into Alastair’s arms, but she held back and waited, like a proper lady. She had to start practicing sometime, didn’t she?

  When the door finally opened, all her efforts at being a lady flew into the cold October wind. She barreled ahead of Graham, and hurriedly climbed down the step to the ground. Without hesitation, she darted into the house. Bendle was there to take her cloak, which she dumped unceremoniously into his arms.

  “He is in the main drawing room, Miss Alcott,” the all-knowing butler said.

  Daphne gave him a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

  The castle was full and lively this evening, spilling out into the gardens since Samhain celebrations were to take place under the moon, apparently. The London visitors milled about, dressed in all manner of costumes. The general atmosphere was one of excitement and merriment, and Daphne wished more than anything that she could join in. That her friend wasn’t missing. And that this blasted party wasn’t a celebration of the very ghosts who had taken Callie.

  She weaved her way through the crowd until she arrived at the drawing room. Strains from the orchestra in the ballroom further down the corridor filled her ears. Colognes and perfumes mingled with the smell of smoke from the fireplace and all the hundreds of candles lit throughout the rooms. Daphne’s heart raced. Her head felt light. The assault on her senses threatened to overtake her, but thankfully, Graham had convinced her to carry her own bottle of smelling salts this evening.

  She reached into her reticule, her fingers searching frantically for the little bottle, but she was shaking so badly in an effort to remain conscious that she couldn’t quite grab onto it. It was then that a strong arm went around her back, warming her from head to toe and slowing her pulse.