The Ghosts of Ardenthwaite (The Northminster Mysteries Book 5)

by Harriet Smart

  The introductions were made and Lady Blanchfort responded with a polite wariness, which made Felix steel himself for a put-down. He was aware that Miss Blanchfort was flushing crimson, and that he was blushing himself, as if the effects of their last two meetings could never be overcome. Where was he going to find the words to ask her to dance, he wondered, as Lord Rothborough graciously prevailed upon Lady Blanchfort to stand up with him.

  “Oh, I do not think –” she said.

  “I insist, my Lady,” Lord Rothborough said. “We are needed to make up a second set. We cannot disappoint Mrs Fforde. And Mr Carswell will take Eleanor up to the first set. She will be in good hands.”

  “I am not sure that young man is quite the partner I would like for my daughter,” said Lady Blanchfort.

  “There is no harm in a quadrille in a private house, Anne,” said Lord Rothborough, using, Felix supposed, an old familiarity as a weapon. What had gone on between them that he felt he could draw such concessions from her? Now he reached out for Miss Blanchfort’s hand, and smiling, said, “Eleanor, will you dance with Mr Carswell?”

  “Yes, of course, sir,” said Miss Blanchfort, standing and allowing Lord Rothborough to place her hand in Felix’s.

  Lady Blanchfort rose and said, “One dance, Eleanor. One dance, and then we will go home.” She put out her hand to Lord Rothborough. “If you insist, sir.”

  “I do,” said Lord Rothborough. “And I make no apologies for it!”

  -o-

  Giles had not yet spoken to Emma Maitland, although she had been within his sight several times. She had been with her fiancé, as was to be expected, and he had to admit the arrangement seemed to suit her as well as Dr Fforde. She was in excellent looks, wearing a wine-coloured dress that became her very well. He wondered if this was the moment to go and speak to her. She would be disturbed, he felt, until he had spoken to her and set it right. For that was his intention – to offer his good wishes.

  Mrs Maitland was now alone, and Giles decided he would not put it off any longer. It would only be a short conversation, for Sally was already lining up her couples and he would be expected to take his own place.

  So he went up to her, pleased to see her smile as he approached, and they greeted each other with perfect calmness.

  “Will you and Dr Fforde be dancing?” he said.

  “I hope so, but I have lost him for a moment,” she said glancing around for him. “Are you in need of a partner?”

  “No, I am promised to my sister.”

  She smiled at that and laid her hand on his arm briefly.

  “I cannot say how happy I am to be joining this family. I hope –”

  “There is nothing that needs to be said,” he said. “You both look very well. It seems to make perfect sense.”

  “Yes, yes, it does feel like that.” She closed her eyes for a moment, smiling with relief. “Thank goodness you see it. I knew of course, you would understand, that you of all people would understand –”

  “Hush,” he said. “There is nothing to be said. No explanations. I am happy for you. Now, here he is come to get you.”

  He was aware, even as he said this, with his manner so cheerful and civil, that he meant not a word of it. Hearing her voice and seeing her expressive face was an intense pleasure for him, as was that brief touch of her hand on his arm.

  Edward Fforde now took her hand in readiness for the dance and said, “I should have said this before, Vernon, but I have you to thank for this unexpected happiness. If you had not brought her to us, then –” he shrugged, and kissed her hand, before leading her away.

  Giles knew then that she had not told Fforde about what had passed between them. There was perhaps nothing that could be said, not without causing pain and unnecessary embarrassment. It had been a still-born child of a love affair. She had allowed herself to have feelings for him, and had been rash enough to have told him about it; and instead of cherishing the possibility of it, like a fool, he had thrown it all back in her face. It was no wonder that Edward Fforde, wealthy and reliable, offering security and unwavering devotion, seemed like a better object for her love. It really was better that she should not love him any more, and whatever he might feel for her was irrelevant. He had not been worthy of her then, and he was certainly not worthy of her now. That it might feel like a punishment to see her on this other man’s arm, looking so radiant, was the least that he deserved.

  The set was almost assembled. Sally was signalling to him to join them. Lord Milburne and Lady Maria were already standing waiting, as eager to begin as a pair of high-strung racehorses. Next to them were Carswell and a handsome red-headed young lady, most elaborately dressed, and then Mrs Maitland and Dr Fforde forming the final couple of the set, standing directly opposite.

  “Eight couples,” said Sally, reviewing all her dancers as if they were a regiment. “How excellent.”

  “That’s all this room will bear,” remarked Lambert, who with his partner was leading the second set.

  “We have plenty of room, if we are neat and careful,” said Mrs Fforde. “Which I am sure you all will be. I propose we dance the First Set Quadrille, if that is agreeable to everyone? A little old-fashioned for some of you perhaps, but it has the virtue of familiarity.”

  “An excellent choice,” said Lord Rothborough.

  “You are hoping the Bishop arrives in the midst of this, yes?” Giles said to Sally, as the introduction to the dance played.

  “Would it be a wrong for him to see that dancing is a perfectly respectable activity?” she said, making her curtsey to him. “Indulged in by middle-aged people with perfect propriety.”

  But as they began, and he found himself facing and passing Emma Maitland, in the intricate moves of the dance, with the spirited, heart-lifting accompaniment of an excellent fiddler and pianist, he wondered if the preachers and puritans who condemned dancing had not got hold of some grain of truth. As graceful and sociable as it all was, with the ladies’ skirts swaying as they skipped and chasséd, and turned with carefully pointed feet and nicely placed arms, he could not help thinking that all the gestures were calculated to rouse the senses into a state of heightened enjoyment that seemed like a prelude to abandon.

  He was puzzled at himself, even as he enjoyed it, feeling himself seduced by the rhythms of the music and the elegant movements, watching Emma Maitland turn and twist, and move back and forth, sometimes touching his hand or catching his eye. She was smiling. Her pleasure was not to be questioned, and he could only think of what he had lost, and how much he desired her. It was not disinterested desire. He wanted her in his bed, and flushed and smiling at him in the same way.

  They had come to the pastorelle figure, which required each of the gentlemen in the set to do a little fancy capering, as if to show the ladies what fine bucks they were. When he had first danced this as a young man in his bright new coat of regimental lace, it had been a great pleasure to indulge in this display, and he was amused to watch Milburne and then Carswell, of all people, making the most of the opportunity, the latter with flourishes that were distinctly Highland. Edward Fforde was quite sedate, as befitted his reputation, but having seen Emma laughing and clapping at Carswell’s performance, Giles was moved to do a little graceful fooling of his own, hoping to remind her of the young officer she had watched dancing all those years ago. Then when it was done he caught her eye and she nodded at him, amused, comprehending, and suddenly it felt as if the door to intimacy with her might be opened again.

  If it should be opened, he thought, as the dance finished, and wondered how he was going to resist going straight up to her and demanding she leave with him at once.

  It was just as well that at this moment that the Bishop and his wife were announced.

  Chapter Eleven

  Miss Blanchfort stood and fanned herself with her hand ineffectually for a moment. Her cheeks were now a furious red, which he felt sure must match his own.

  “We should find a cooler spot,” said Fe
lix. “It is close in here.”

  They went to one of the windows; the house was so ancient that they were set in deep embrasures, and partially covered by heavy curtains. It was a little like stepping into another room, and hid them quite from the view of the others. Felix pushed open the lattice as far as he could. She climbed up on to the window seat, leant out and breathed deeply, and he climbed up beside her.

  “I wish I could stay for another dance,” she said.

  “Perhaps if Lord Rothborough commands it,” said Felix. “You are not tempted to climb out, are you?” he said, noticing how she was leaning out rather precipitously.

  “I should rather fly out of here,” she said. “Do you think I could?”

  “No. I am quite convinced you are mortal now, so I can’t advise it.”

  “Oh, but how delicious it would be,” she said, gazing out at the night again. “Oh, so delicious! Even more pleasant than dancing.” She shook her head and then sat down. “I am glad for this chance to see you again. I wanted to apologise properly. I should have got you help and not abandoned you, but when I got back there was such a commotion, such a fuss about nothing, as ever!” She pressed her hands to her face for a moment. “I would have come back had I not been –”

  “Were you in a great deal of trouble?”

  “I am always in trouble. Nothing I do, nothing I say is ever the right thing! And I shall be in trouble again if I stay here any longer. I had better...” With which she jumped up and was gone.

  Felix remained on the window seat, watching her progress across the room through the chink in the curtains, her white silk dress and copper hair glistening in the candlelight. It was just as well he stayed there, for Lady Blanchfort was coming to meet her, and as she spoke to her daughter she had the look of a woman recapturing an unruly dog and putting it on a leash. Miss Blanchfort appeared to droop a little, and then went off obediently with her to some other part of the room, out of sight. Felix felt a slight stab of disappointment that he could not talk to her any more, let alone dance, but decided it was for the best. He would not deliberately seek her out, he decided, for women were only a source of trouble and pain for him, no matter how alluring they were. Miss Blanchfort was too beautiful, vulnerable and strange to be anything but extremely dangerous.

  He remained, therefore, idling on the window seat, watching the party through the chink in the curtains. After a few minutes he saw Major Vernon coming towards him, and he adjusted the curtain to show his hiding place.

  “This is like a box at the opera,” said Major Vernon, sitting down beside him. He was holding a glass of wine. “Who was your partner?”

  “Miss Blanchfort,” said Felix.

  “Very handsome.”

  “Very dangerous, I think – well, for me at least,” said Felix.

  “Oh dear,” said Major Vernon sipping his wine.

  “I should go and find some of that,” said Felix. “The quadrille was thirsty work. But I do not want to risk being presented to the Bishop.”

  “Here,” said Major Vernon, passing him his glass. “What is the man doing?”

  The Bishop was going about murmuring to the ladies, apparently asking them to sit.

  “It looks as if he is going to give a recitation.”

  “Or a sermon?” said Felix, draining the glass of wine.

  A moment later, the Bishop had taken a commanding spot in front of the crowd and making a bow, began to speak.

  “My lords, ladies, and gentlemen, no, my dear friends in Christ,” said the Bishop. “You must forgive our rather late arrival. We had meant to join you all earlier but it seemed that the Lord had different plans for us. We had just finished our dinner, when I was told that I had a visitor – a man whom I did not know, but who had told my butler that he was very anxious to speak to me.

  “So I went out into the hall so see what it was he wanted and what sort of man he was. He was not the ordinary sort of visitor to a Bishop’s Palace. Nor was he the sort of man whom it is easy for respectable people to place in society, for he was well dressed, and clearly in easy circumstances, but his clothes were, most of you would concede, a trifle gaudy. His accent also proclaimed the most ordinary origins. But he spoke to me most respectfully and also to my wife who had come out of the dining room. He said that something of great importance had happened to him, that he felt he must talk to a member of the clergy and that having read my pamphlet, he felt I would understand what he was about.

  “Naturally I said I would hear him, and indeed, I asked if my wife might join us and take notes, for I suspected even then, from the light in his eyes, and the excitement in his demeanour, that something wonderful had happened to him, that the power of the Lord was working strongly in him, and had brought him to our door.”

  “A sermon, what did I tell you?” said Felix, wishing he had another glass of wine.

  “And so we went into my study and he began to tell me his story. He was the son of humble tavern-keeper just outside this city, and he had come to his present prosperity, he confessed, by means that were not always within the law. In his youth he had been a prize fighter, and had then discovered a talent for healing horses. This had been his principal occupation, operating a livery business, as well as getting a great reputation as a horse doctor, in which capacity I think some of you here may already know him. Now, he had attempted, he told me, to put his youthful discretions behind him, and lived what he hoped was a good and decent life, doing what he could for the poor and sick.”

  “Bickley?” murmured Major Vernon. “Can he be talking about Bickley?”

  “And yet, even though he grew more and more prosperous, and built up his business, making himself very comfortable, he began to feel that there was an absence in his life. So he thought again of the simple lessons he had once heard as a child at his mother’s knee. She had told him that Jesus was his Lord, and loved him very dearly. And he began to ponder on this more and more, all the while feeling that he was such a great sinner that the Lord could not love him, and that there was no hope for him, and the lake of fire and eternal damnation awaited him.”

  Major Vernon got up and went out from behind the curtain, standing in front of it, blocking Felix’s view of the Bishop. In his turn, Felix climbed back on to the window seat and gazed out into the night air, and found himself picturing Miss Blanchfort taking flight.

  -o-

  The Bishop was now offering a prayer of extempore thanksgiving for the salvation of George Bickley, a most embarrassing procedure in a drawing room where most of the guests looked quite scandalised at his speech. Lambert was standing with Lord Rothborough, looking both mortified and furious, while Sally, on the other side of the room with the Bishop’s wife, looked most uncomfortable, especially when Mrs Hughes fell to her knees, as if at the command of her husband.

  Most people managed to bow their heads. Some even went on their knees, though hesitantly. It was clear that the power of the Lord was not working very strongly in the Treasurer’s House that night.

  The Bishop’s prayer seemed to go on almost as long as his speech and contained nothing from the Prayer Book that Giles remembered. There followed an awkward silence following the muttered final amen, for what else was there to do but to be awkward? It was surely what the Bishop wanted: to make them all uncomfortable. There could be no country dances or reels now. Lambert and Sally looked confounded and at a loss, as if their party had been overrun by a herd of bullocks.

  In the end it was Lord Rothborough who managed to straighten the social cloth with an adept tweak. He went straight up to Sally, took her hand and kissed it, saying, “Your grace and hospitality, Mrs Fforde, I can never fault it. It has been a most delightful evening. Maria, do you not agree?” he added, stretching out his hand to his daughter. She joined him, and made a very graceful, deep and old-fashioned curtsey to Sally, as if she were far her superior. Sally responded by kissing her and that signal allowed the party to break up.

  -o-

  Three quarters
of an hour later, Felix, the Ffordes, Major Vernon, Mrs Maitland, and Lord Milburne were attempting to do justice to the very lavish supper that had been prepared for a multitude. Celia and Tom had been summoned from upstairs, somewhat astonished that the party had finished so soon, but pleased that they were allowed to come down and eat all the fancy cakes and ices they could. The servants had also been given their share, and Canon Fforde had sent the fiddler down to the servant’s hall to entertain them.

  “We should send some over to the palace nursery,” said Tom.

  “No, no,” said Canon Fforde. “That would be –”

  “A declaration of war?” said Major Vernon.

  “War has already been declared,” said Mrs Fforde, with a sigh. “I cannot believe it. What a business!”

  “I think we should write to the Archbishop,” said Edward Fforde. “The matter of the extempore prayer alone –”

  “I do not know if his Grace would be sympathetic in the least,” said Canon Fforde. “It is a pity there is no law against emotional vulgarity, which that was, pure and simple. Except that it was not the least pure and simple. If it had been remotely sincere I could have forgiven it, but it was calculated.”