The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque, Meara Platt, Scarlett Scott, Mary Lancaster, Maggi Andersen, Chasity Bowlin, Sydney Jane Baily, Violetta Rand

  “No, not terribly. A little warm, a little lightheaded.”

  “Sometimes, the change of seasons will do that to a person,” Grayson’s mother pointed out.

  Eleanor nodded, then she recalled her plans.

  “Beryl and Philip are leaving tomorrow. I can hardly impose on Lord and Lady Angsley after they leave. I am supposed to look after Rosie for a month. What if I stay out of Maggie’s room except for standing in the doorway?”

  Grayson shook his head. “We all know the Angsleys. You will not be viewed as an imposition if you stay here for a little while longer. Maybe Margaret will feel better soon, or, if Rosie shows no signs, perhaps she can come here. All I know is Cam will have my hide if I allow you to show up at Turvey. You know how he is. He dotes on your sister and is already frightened.”

  She wanted to weep. If Cam was worried, there was probably reason to be.

  “Now you’ve frightened her,” Mrs. O’Connor said to her son. Then she reached out and patted Eleanor’s hand.

  “Finish your tea and then go tell them up at the hall what’s happened. They’ll be thrilled to have you stay longer, my dear. Don’t you worry. And my Gray will keep you entertained.”

  Eleanor considered what that meant exactly. Was he staying at Angsley, too?

  “Mother, I have to—” he began.

  “Don’t you gainsay me, lad. If Miss Eleanor had made it to Turvey House, you would’ve kept her company, taking her riding and such. A little chess in the evening, too, I imagine. You can do those things here as easily. They’ll give you a room up at the manor.”

  Those were the normal things Eleanor had done with Grayson in years prior, along with fishing, charades, and cards, but they’d almost always been in a group.

  More than a little embarrassed at being foisted upon him, she stood again, just as there was a knock at the door.

  “That’ll be Miss Phoebe,” Mrs. O’Connor said as Grayson also stood.

  “I’ll let her in.” Eleanor reached the door. “Thank you for the information about my sister,” she said to Grayson. “But I don’t need a nursemaid or a court jester to entertain me. I have my books and my sketchpad, and I’ll write letters to my sisters and my mother.”

  “Court jester?” Grayson muttered under his breath.

  Eleanor smiled at his mother. “It was nice to see you, Mrs. O’Connor.” Then, she let in a surprised Phoebe.

  “Beryl is looking for you,” the girl said as she slipped past.

  Eleanor strode across the paving stones in front of the old granary lodge.

  And all she had wanted was a sweet biscuit!

  With her sister fallen sick, everything had gone wrong in an instant. She could still slip away, thwart Grayson, and go to Turvey House, but he was very close friends with Maggie’s husband, the Earl of Cambrey. Like brothers. She did not want the earl to blame Grayson for her disobedience.

  Moreover, if John didn’t want her there, he would be angry to see her, and she didn’t like to think of a furious brother-in-law.

  At least the mystery was solved. The shadowy horseman, so fanciful and romantic the night before, had turned out to be Grayson come to ruin her entire trip. She had the irrational urge to weep.

  “Eleanor,” came his voice, just when her feet left the pavers and hit the damp grass again. “I’ll go to the hall and explain. I was already there this morning, not expecting you up and out so early.”

  She shrugged. What could she say? She was an oddity, always up early.

  “I should have remembered,” he added. “You are awake with the birds.”

  Why should he have recalled such a thing?

  “Where did you sleep last night?” she asked when he fell into step beside her. “In the stables?”

  “No, this court jester had a cot,” he told her. “I pulled it out from under my mother’s bed and slept in her front room by the stove. I do it as often as I can get over here to see her.”

  He rubbed his lower back. “Honestly, a pile of hay in the stables would probably be more comfortable.”

  She imagined his tall form curled on a narrow cot and nearly laughed. Then she remembered he had inconvenienced himself for her.

  “Thank you for coming to tell me. I’m sorry I called you a jester. You have always been good company, even when Beryl and I were pushed onto you along with all her siblings to give the earl time alone with my sister.”

  He offered her his lopsided smile, which she adored. “Oh, you realized that, did you?”

  She sighed. She was not a child any longer.

  As they approached the back lawn, two of the Angsleys’ dogs came rushing across it to greet them.

  “Good dogs,” Grayson said, reaching down to pat the spaniels. After a moment, the dogs scented something and tore off into the wooded area at the edge of the property.

  Eleanor thought of the grouse from earlier and hoped it was far away from these hunting dogs. She knew their job was to flush out birds from the bushes and tall grass. At that moment, though, floppy and playful, with their tongues lolling out of their mouths, they didn’t seem harmful at all.

  “Eleanor!” Beryl was standing on the terrace amongst potted plants and the outdoor dining furniture.

  Eleanor waved to her.

  “You speak with Beryl,” Grayson suggested. “I’ll go talk to Lord and Lady Angsley.”

  Eleanor would have liked to make sure her hosts weren’t being pressed to allow her an extended visit, but she nodded.

  He strode on ahead, gave Beryl a quick hug as he passed, for they’d grown up practically as cousins, and then disappeared through the back entrance.

  “What’s going on?” Beryl asked as Eleanor gained the terrace. “Why is Gray here?”

  “Maggie is sick, and I’ve been forbidden to go to Turvey until she’s well.”

  Beryl exclaimed in dismay. “I’m so sorry.” She enveloped her in a hug, but they were kept slightly apart by the burgeoning baby in her stomach. “Philip and I can put off our journey home.”

  Eleanor’s heart soared momentarily, then she recalled Grayson’s unkind word—selfish.

  “No, that’s not necessary. You have far to go, and the longer you wait, the harder it will be on you. Besides, I have all your siblings to keep me company.”

  They laughed, knowing what troublemakers the younger Angsleys could be.

  “And Gray,” Beryl reminded her with a pointed look and an arched eyebrow.

  When she was sixteen, Eleanor had shared her infatuation over the Turvey House estate manager, and Beryl had never forgotten.

  Her cheeks warmed.

  “Is he staying?” her best friend asked.

  “I’m not certain,” Eleanor told her. “His mother thinks he should.”

  “He should!” agreed Beryl. “You can have loads of fun. The sun will come out eventually so you can do things outdoors. And in the evenings, he’ll play cards and chess.”

  “Honestly, you sound like Mrs. O’Connor. I don’t need the sun to be happy, nor a playmate to keep myself occupied.”

  That night was another rainy one, keeping everyone indoors. After a brief recital of piano music by Beryl and Phoebe, the drawing room was filled with young and old, playing games. Eleanor’s mind kept drifting to Maggie, hoping her sister was already beginning to feel better. She had penned a letter to her after lunch, sending it to Turvey House via the Angsleys’ footman, as Beryl thought it best not to let Grayson leave in case he didn’t return.

  When she told Eleanor that, her cheeks infused with color.

  Mortifying! If Grayson wanted to leave, he should go. After all, he could stay in his own home on the Cambrey estate without threat of catching anything from Maggie.

  However, that night, he showed no discontentment at being in the company of Eleanor, the Angsleys, and the Carruthers. He’d grown up not as a servant or even as a servant’s son, but simply as a companion to John Angsley, the only heir to the earldom. And these were John’s relations, uncle, aunt, a
nd cousins, and thus, they seemed to be Grayson’s relations, too.

  Oddly, no one whom Eleanor had previously asked, not Beryl, Maggie, or John, knew anything about Grayson’s father. Moreover, Maggie’s husband had said Grayson, himself, didn’t know anything more than his father had been a servant who’d died.

  After growing up at Turvey House with the old earl and countess and John, Grayson then went to a local boarding school before taking over the position as estate manager. At some point, he had been given land and, thus, built a house near the river.

  Over a pot of gossip-water, Maggie had once told Eleanor how Grayson also made money in stocks and occasionally went to London for entertainment.

  When pressed, her sister said he’d never brought a woman back to Turvey House, not while she’d been there. Nor did Maggie think he had ever given his heart away to anyone.

  Grayson was thus a mystery. So attractive and smart, why hadn’t he yet found a wife?

  Of course, in London, or even here in Bedfordshire, it was entirely possible he had female company on a regular basis. That could be his primary reason for going to London.

  Eleanor was quite sure he never grabbed a woman behind a tree and hastily kissed her while leaving food on her face.

  She couldn’t help watching him. He moved so easily from being down on the floor with the youngest Angsleys, playing checkers and even her old favorite game, Puss, Puss in the Corner, to playing cards with the adults. Just as effortlessly, he moved between the worlds of working for John and Maggie as their estate manager to being John’s best friend, she supposed.

  When the children had gone to bed, except young Asher Angsley, who doted on Captain Philip and sat at his feet, the rest of them decided on charades. Grayson chose Eleanor for his partner, which delighted her. Moreover, as it turned out, they were quite good at communicating and won two rounds.

  After that, someone suggested they each propose a riddle. Beryl groaned.

  “Why are you moaning?” Eleanor asked her friend. “This is the best part of the evening.”

  “Only because you love riddles and can guess them nearly every time, while I am utterly hopeless at them.”

  Eleanor laughed, but it was true. After Beryl’s father, Lord Harold Angsley, started them off with more of a pun than a riddle, he said guests should go next and looked to her to offer one.

  She scooted forward on the sofa. “Do you know the one that starts like this?

  I sit on a rock whilst I’m raising the wind,

  But, the storm once abated, I’m gentle and kind;

  I’ve kings at my feet who await but a nod,

  To kneel in the dust on the ground I have trod.”

  Beryl groaned again, causing Leo to lift his furry orange head from the sofa and gaze quizzically at his mistress.

  “That’s utter nonsense,” she muttered.

  Philip put an arm around her shoulders to soothe his crotchety, child-carrying wife.

  Eleanor looked around. “Has anyone heard it before? If not, there is more to it, and I should be happy to recite it all.”

  Grayson sat back with a thoughtful look on his handsome face, nearly distracting her into forgetting the riddle’s solution. Then he folded his arms over his chest.

  “Go on,” he prompted her. “We’re listening.”

  She recited the next eight lines, ending with “And when I’m discovered, you’ll say with a smile that my first and my last are the pride of this isle.”

  Lady Catherine Angsley, Beryl’s mother, frowned and made her repeat it twice more. Then she proclaimed, “I believe my daughter is correct. It is nonsense.”

  “It has an answer,” Eleanor promised her. “And when you hear it, the hints and clues all make sense. Do you all give up?”

  “No, I don’t, and I shall wager Philip doesn’t either,” Grayson said.

  “Nor do I,” said Lord Angsley. “What’s more, I’ll wager my wife and I can come up with the answer before Grayson and Philip.”

  “Oh, dear!” exclaimed Lady Angsley. “Are you certain you wish to partner with me?”

  “It’s either you or Beryl,” his lordship said, causing his daughter to toss a velvet cushion at his head.

  After reciting it again, Eleanor waited, delighted to have stumped them all on her first try. However, after a few minutes of conferring with his partner, Grayson lifted his head and smiled.

  “I think we’ve got it. As long as Philip confirms what the pride of the British Isles is.”

  “The Royal Navy, of course.”

  “Then the answer,” said Grayson, “is a raven.”

  “Bravo,” Eleanor said. “Isn’t this fun?”

  “No!” said Beryl. After a few more minutes, she declared herself too tired to keep her eyes open, and she and Philip went to bed, taking their cat with them.

  This left Eleanor and Grayson with Lord and Lady Angsley. For the second night, there was lightning and thunder, and Eleanor was glad not to be at alone at an inn.

  “I’m very pleased not to be travelling on a night like this,” she said.

  Lord Angsley, who loved to travel, began an interesting story about his recent trip to Spain on the queen’s business.

  Suddenly, pounding at the front door reverberated through the lofty foyer and sounded loudly in the drawing room.

  Lady Angsley gasped, while Eleanor and Grayson jumped to their feet.

  Chapter Four

  “Settle down, everyone,” Lord Angsley commanded. “Mr. Stanley will see the person in.”

  In a moment, the lanky butler appeared in the drawing room doorway.

  “Who was it?” his lordship demanded.

  “Messenger from Turvey House, my lord.”

  “Show him in at once,” said Lady Angsley.

  “He has left already, my lady.” Whipping an envelope from behind his back, Mr. Stanley handed the damp missive to his lordship. “He brought this for you or for Mr. O’Connor.”

  “He ought to spend the night,” Grayson said.

  “He is, sir. In the stables.”

  The butler turned and left as the house was rattled by another large boom of thunder. Somewhere abovestairs, one of the children shrieked with glee as much as fear.

  Lord Angsley raised his eyes to the ceiling. “I should have asked for brandy. Perfect thing on a night like tonight. Dratted man disappears so quickly.”

  “What does it say, dear?” his wife urged him.

  Eleanor felt like snatching it from his lordship’s hands since it might have to do with Maggie, but he opened the note, shook it, held it up, read it, and reread it.

  “For God’s sake,” Grayson said, because he had that level of familial relationship with this family, he could express his frustration. “What does it say, my lord?”

  “Basically, not to let you go back to Turvey House, either. Now, my nephew is feeling unwell, too.”

  “Oh dear,” her ladyship exclaimed, immediately pulling the bell pull. “We do need brandy.”

  “Is John very sick?” Eleanor asked.

  “He says only that he feels ill. Nothing more. He says to watch you for signs, too.” Lord Angsley looked at Grayson. “If you’ve brought any fever to this house, young man, I shall not look kindly upon it.”

  Grayson nodded. “I feel fine. Moreover, I was in London up until a day ago. Just when I got back, I was sent here. I had no contact with Lady Cambrey whatsoever.”

  It still sounded strange to Eleanor’s ears for her sister to be called by her title.

  “Good,” his lordship said.

  Mr. Stanley reappeared, and soon the brandy tray arrived.

  “And what of John’s mother?” Lady Angsley asked.

  Eleanor was fond of the other Lady Cambrey, the dowager. She was a kind mother-in-law to Maggie.

  “In London, at present,” Grayson said. “I escorted her there myself a couple weeks ago.”

  “Good,” his lordship repeated himself. “Less people to worry about.”

 
They sat in silence for a while, all four sipping brandy and listening to the rain drum against the windows.

  “You were in London recently, weren’t you?” Lady Angsley asked Eleanor.

  “Yes, I was. For the entire Season.” She tried not to sound fed up by the entire tedious ordeal.

  “We were there for the opening race at Ascot and, of course, for the Derby.” Lady Angsley looked to her husband for confirmation.

  “I was at the Derby,” Eleanor said. “I’m sorry I didn’t see you there. Except for that delightful day in Surrey, I believe I spent the majority of my time in stuffy ballrooms and dining rooms in Town.”

  Her ladyship sent her a questioning smile. “And you didn’t find your ideal suitor?”

  Eleanor felt her cheeks grow warm. It was a rather personal question but seeing as she’d been in and out of the Angsleys’ house for five years, she supposed it was all right for Lady Angsley to ask.

  Yet Grayson seemed to be listening intently, too, and she hated to sound like a failure.

  “I met some interesting gentlemen,” she said, thinking of the few men she could actually recall and how interestingly vain, boring, or dull they were.

  Lady Angsley turned to Grayson. “You were here last night?”

  He seemed to still be considering her answer, for he paused before he answered. “Yes, I stayed at the granary lodge with my mother.”

  “I miss having her in the house,” her ladyship said. “I’m so glad Phoebe—”

  A gun shot rendered the night, interrupting her.

  “Hell’s bells!” Lord Angsley exclaimed. “What next? Armageddon and pestilence?”

  Gray jumped to his feet again and headed for the door.

  “Everyone, stay here,” he ordered, belatedly realizing he didn’t have the right to order anyone to do anything but hoped they would listen anyway.

  Footsteps on the main stairs heralded the arrival of Captain Carruthers rushing down to his side, only half-dressed but armed.

  As a privateer—some said pirate—Beryl’s husband probably always slept with one eye open and a gun in his hand. Gray didn’t know him too well, except as the man who’d saved Beryl’s life more than once, for which he was grateful, as she was like a sister to him.