Lady Gladys assured me if I did the spell correctly, the spirit would contact me in some manner.
Nothing occurred.
“Spirit, are you here? Speak to me now.”
Silence.
I frowned. I glanced at the objects surrounding me, wondering if I should alter their placement.
“Are you certain you spoke the words correctly?” Trevor had taken cover behind several gravestones away from me.
“I said them exactly as she instructed. I repeated them word for word.”
“Perhaps, he’s no longer in his body?” Trevor suggested. “Is it possible he’s moved on?”
I shook my head. “Sir Nicholas was murdered. Lady Gladys said that murder victims do not move on. They remain near their bodies, trapped in torment. I felt certain he could help us find the jewels.”
“Decent of the fellow to stay behind near his body, but he’s being a bit stubborn not to communicate with us. Do you think he’s off visiting his ghostly friends?”
“Trev, stop being ridiculous. There’s no such thing as ghosts.”
“Ah, I forgot. This from the sister who conducts séances at gravesides. What do you think Sir Nicholas is then, hmm?”
“I’m trying to communicate with his spirit. Whether I believe is immaterial. At this stage, I’m desperate. If we do not find those jewels, I’ll be forced to marry Lord Livingston. The man makes me wish to retch. I cannot stand the thought of him touching me on the dance floor, much less the marriage bed.”
“I cannot blame you. He’s a lecher of the worst kind. You don’t even wish to know the rumors that surround him.”
“Well, Trevor, if we do not do something, I’ll have no choice!” A bubble of panic blossomed in my chest. I took a deep breath to suppress it. Having hysterics would benefit neither of us, and I needed a clear head to think this situation through.
Finally, I stood.
“Perhaps one must truly believe in spirits to speak with them.”
Trevor coughed. “I believe in them and I’ve never had an encounter. Who knows what the rules are regarding the afterlife? How should Lady Gladys know anything for certain? She could be concocting this entire display for the benefit of her own amusement.”
I shook my head. “No, she believes. And she means well. I just haven’t performed the ceremony correctly. Perhaps I should try again tomorrow night.”
“Didn’t you say this must be done on the first night of the full moon?”
I nodded. “I don’t wish to wait another month for the next. Lady Gladys assured me this would work tonight. All Hallows’ Eve is when the spirits are most active. The barriers between our world and the spirit realm become the thinnest on this night. Communication should have occurred.” I sighed, glancing at the full moon rising so brightly it lit the sky despite the few clouds that attempted to block it from view. “I’ll try again tomorrow. And every night after if I must.”
I pulled my cloak tighter around me and set to work erasing any evidence of my visitation. I was careful to open the circle in just the way Lady Gladys had instructed, wanting to prove to myself that I had done all I could. Then, with a weary heart, Trevor and I returned to Morley Manor.
Chapter Two
I climbed into bed and pulled the coverlets over me. The embers glowed low in the fireplace, allowing a chill from the windows to creep over me. I shivered and huddled beneath the blankets, rubbing my cold feet together to warm them.
Thoughts of the day drifted through my mind even as I struggled to cast them out. My worries were not so easily dissuaded. Fears for Trevor’s future as well as my own were stronger than my will. So, at last, I relented and let them come.
With them came tears.
Tears of fear… worry… frustration.
What was I to do?
My father had left us destitute. Shortly after his death, when the creditors had to be paid, we released our staff. All that remained were the housekeeper, butler and cook who, bless them, refused to leave us. They were certain I’d find answers for our grim financial situation.
I feared their faith in me was misplaced.
So, I cried myself to sleep, weeping for a miracle to turn our fortunes around. I did not wish to marry some ill-begotten fool and ruin my life for the sake of monetary gain. However, I did not wish to starve either. And my younger brother needed to continue his schooling and education, clothes and the necessities of life. That all cost blunt.
As my eyelids drifted down, I heard a noise.
At first, I disregarded it. There were often noises within Morley Manor that seemed unexplainable. I usually surmised the noises came from the wind, rattling the casements, or perhaps mice scurrying about seeking a spare bit of crumb.
But, when the noise repeated itself, I had the distinct impression that I was not alone.
Those were footsteps. Footsteps nearing my bed…
It’s nothing, I chastised myself, gripping the coverlet. The wind… merely the wind.
But this wind had a solid cadence and the second thought that pervaded my sleep fogged brain was perhaps Morley Manor had an intruder. It was possible someone might have heard of our misfortune and had come to take advantage. To steal anything of value that might remain in our destitute house.
I reached for the table beside my bed, searching blindly for anything I might obtain as a weapon. I touched the cold leather binding of a book, a porcelain miniature figurine, and a candle encased in its brass holder. I wrapped my fingers around the candlestick, gripping it tightly as I peeked over the coverlets.
My room was empty.
I pushed the coverlets aside and sat up fully to better view my chambers in the dim light of the dying fire. The heat from the blaze was gone. I noticed my breath clouding before my face. I sat there quite a while, listening with bated breath for the noises I had previously heard, but there were none.
“I must have been dreaming,” I muttered aloud.
“Was I among those dreams, my sweet?” A voice spoke loudly from my left. My heart drummed into my throat and I jerked to face my intruder.
A man dressed in 15th century garb of shirt, doublet and hose sat stretched in the chair beside my bed with his booted feet propped on another table. He flicked idly at the tassel on his hat.
“At one time, I might have enjoyed partaking of that delectable… Good God! Can you hear me?”
He had lifted his head when I made a small gurgling sound in the back of my throat. At the sight of me staring at him, he straightened, his feet dropping through the table and onto the floor.
Through the table…
A scream tore into the night, a high-pitched, frightening sound that sent shivers coursing down my spine. I scrambled back against the headboard of my bed, gripping my candlestick and gasping for breath. As I struggled to breathe, I realized those were my chilling screams.
I stopped screaming and faced the man, raising my candlestick in front of me like a shield.
“Come no closer, demon!”
“You can hear me?” A look of wonder passed over his handsome face. His eyes widened. “You can see me?”
“Of course, I can!”
“But how?” The man glanced around the room as if searching for the answer. “How can this be? No one alive has seen me for over two hundred years!”
“Begone from my chamber!” I shouted and my voice trembled with fear. “Leave me in peace!”
“This makes no sense at all.” He continued his dialogue, ignoring my rising panic. He stood and began pacing at the end of the bed. My eyes widened as I witnessed him walk through the edge of the bed a time or two as he was so absorbed in his thoughts, he failed to see in which direction he walked.
“You had no awareness of me before you left this night. What changed?” He lifted his head and turned to face me. “What did you do when you left Morley tonight? What happened to you?”
“I—I—”
My stammering annoyed him. He leaned over the bed, resting his fisted hand
s against my feet. I could feel his weight as he leaned onto the mattress.
“Tell me, woman! I must know!”
I whimpered and struggled away from him, trying to meld myself into the headboard. I glanced over his shoulder, judging the distance between myself and the door, wondering if I was fast enough to run by him. Wondering if I was brave enough to try.
“Ah,” the specter said, for I knew he was no mere man. He was a ghost, a demon, a creature not of this world, for whom on this plane of existence could pass through solid objects.
“I see I’ve startled you.” He stood and raised outstretched hands before him as if he placated a frightened animal. “I will not harm you. I cannot. I have no mortal flesh. I cannot touch you. Observe…”
He reached toward me, placing his icy fingers on the hand holding the candlestick. I say icy fingers because I felt the press of them firmly against my skin, a solid enough touch for a specter.
He gasped.
I looked to his face and if I were not so full of fright, I might have found amusement to witness the color drain from his face. Did ghosts grow pale as humans when in a state of bewilderment?
He stumbled back, staring at his hand.
“What sorcery is this?” He whispered. “What did you do this night?”
“I… I…” I licked my suddenly dry lips so I could speak. “I attempted to summon the spirit of Sir Nicholas Weatherby.” I might as well be truthful while speaking with a ghost. After all, how could he condemn me when he, himself, was dead?
“Sir Nicholas Weatherby?” he repeated, his eyes wide. “I am Nicholas Weatherby.”
Chapter Three
“You are Sir Nicholas?” My voice squeaked timidly from the bed. Slowly, the realization that this night’s séance was an unabashed success crept through my fear-fogged brain.
“You cast a spell to summon me?” He repeated, ignoring my meager attempt at control. “What a ridiculous notion, my dear! I have gone nowhere. I’ve been residing here in Morley Manor for two hundred years. No need to summon me, little fool. No. What you did was craft a spell to open your eyes to me and my kind. You can see me! And touch me.”
He reached out his hand as if to demonstrate once again, but I flinched, leaning away from him.
He hesitated. “I have no wish to harm you. Truly.”
Instead of responding to his declaration, I slid out of the bed on the opposite side from him, still gripping the candlestick holder with all of my might, as if the thing were a sword that might save me if he rushed toward me to do harm.
I took a deep breath to rehabilitate my nerves. This was what I wanted, wasn’t it?
To speak to the spirit of Sir Nicholas Weatherby.
Well, here he was… in my bedchamber of all places. Not the setting I would have chosen, but nonetheless I could not let this opportunity pass. The spell had worked. But for how long? Better not to tempt fate with trying to gather my courage about me.
“I must ask you a question. I need your help.”
Sir Nicholas leaned back, tilting his head to stare at me. “And what may that be?”
“Where are the jewels?”
He released a heavy sigh.
“I feared that might be it. The jewels. The only reason you attempted to contact me. Those damned jewels.”
“My father died and left us destitute—”
“Yes, I know, my dear. I may be a ghost, but I am not blind. I see what your darling father did to my beloved Morley Manor. And what you and your brother did as well. Selling the estate’s valuables? Ghastly. Simply appalling! I had to watch as those intruders came into my home to cart off my mother’s portrait. Why would anyone want to purchase that? She wore such a scowl. My father said it frightened suitors away from my sister.”
My eyes widened as he rambled on. I wondered whether I should wait until he was clearly finished or interrupt his tirade, since it seemed he might continue till morning. I was uncertain how long this spell would last.
“The jewels,” I spoke loudly to interrupt him, reminding him of my presence. He stopped speaking and looked at me. “Where are they?”
“Would you believe me if I said I don’t know where they are?”
My brow furrowed. Was he trying to trick me? Of course, he knew where they were located. According to family legend, he was the one who hid them.
“No,” I said, in answer to his question.
“Hmm, yes. I didn’t think you’d believe me. Very well. I will show you where they are located if you might do something in return for me.”
“What?”
“I have been trapped in this house for ages. My spirit cannot move on. I want you to find my bones and bury them.”
“But… your bones are already buried. I went to the graveyard to conduct the séance to speak with you there.”
“’Tis an empty grave, my dear. My remains do not reside there.”
None of the family legends told of this.
“Then, pray tell, where is your body located?”
Sir Nicholas grimaced. “That is the trick of it, isn’t it? I do not know.”
Chapter Four
The next day, my brother and I stood in the garden with shovels and other such tools scattered about us. We had already dug a dozen holes throughout the area in search of Sir Nicholas’s bones but to no avail.
So far, nothing.
“This is an impossible task,” Trevor wailed, climbing from another failed hole. “He could be anywhere.”
“He is somewhere on the grounds. He said his spirit cannot wander farther than this land. His skeleton must be buried here.”
“Alice,” Trevor sighed with exasperation. “The manor grounds are vast. Hundreds of acres. How can we find a hidden body in such an area?”
“We will dig up every inch of these grounds until we find him.”
By nightfall, my determination to locate Sir Nicholas’s remains had faded with every ache in my exhausted body.
After the housekeeper filled a bath by the kitchen fire, she left me to dissolve in the scented water. My body hurt in places I didn’t even know existed. I let the hot water penetrate my aching muscles as I leaned my head back against the rim and closed my eyes.
Not long later, a noise interrupted the silence.
“No such luck, I presume?”
I blinked my eyes open to find Sir Nicholas staring at me. Quickly, I reached for cloth to cover my nakedness.
He scoffed. “No need to hide, my dear. It’s nothing I have not seen before. Do you forget that I am a ghost with nothing better to do than wander bedchambers?”
“Have you no honor, sir?”
“Indeed, I have none. Actually, I did not think I needed such in the afterlife.”
“Well, you certainly need such in my presence.” I snapped, breathing heavily. “I insist upon it.”
“Oh, you do?” Sir Nicholas raised one blond eyebrow.
“Yes,” I said, emerging from the water and wrapping the cloth around my body to shroud it from his heated gaze. I shivered but did my best to ignore the man’s presence as I swept up my clothes from the nearby table and departed the room. Despite my desire to dress near the warmth of the fire, I’d rather do so unobserved.
I left Sir Nicholas to walk solemnly to my bedchamber where I found Mrs. Norris, the housekeeper, feeding the fire in the fireplace.
“Finished already, my dear?”
I nodded.
“Would you like some help dressing?”
At one time, I had several servants to assist me in dressing. It was necessary with some of the more intricate fashions, but since I no longer attended the many society functions as I had in the past, my taste in clothing had gone to a simpler touch.
“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Norris. Thank you.”
Mrs. Norris nodded, then left.
I dried and dressed quickly, aware at any moment I might have an unwanted observer. How often had he watched me dress when I had no notion? The thought was disturbing, to
say the least. And yet, at the same time, thrilling. My blood pumped wickedly within my veins as I imagined the man watching me, his hungry gaze upon my naked flesh.
I had just finished dressing when the knock at the door startled me. More surprising was to find Sir Nicholas waiting patiently on the other side.
“What happened to walking through walls?” I backed away to allow him room to enter. Then I curled my feet beneath me as I sank onto the settee near the fireplace where I brushed through the wet tendrils of my hair, spreading the strands out to dry.
“With the sudden change in my circumstances, I suppose it would be prudent to return to old habits. Those of a living and breathing man. It was rude of me to interrupt you this evening in your bath. My apologies.”
I paused my brushing to raise my gaze to meet his.
“I was not always a cad, nor do I wish for you to think of me as such.”
I tilted my head to the side to gauge his sincerity. The honesty in his blue eyes struck me. I nodded and returned to my brushing, hoping my hair dried sufficiently before I retired to bed.
“How goes your search?”
“Fruitless.” I sighed. “Are you certain you have no notion where your bones are buried?”
“None.”
Sir Nicholas leaned against the fireplace, his ghostly hands outstretched toward the flames. He gazed deep into the fire, silent for several minutes until I spoke.
“Does the heat not burn you?”
“What?” He raised his head. “This? No.”
He dipped one hand into the flames, letting it rest there. My instincts cringed as I watched, wanting to leap from the settee to pull his hand from the fire. After a moment, he held his hand out for my inspection. I expected to see burnt flesh, but there was nothing. His hand remained whole.
“It seems the only thing I can touch is you.” Nicholas knelt beside me, lowering his hand until it rested solidly on my arm. His touch was not icy as it had been before. Now, it was warm, as a man’s hands should be. His fingers skimmed along the flesh of my arm, sending tingles of awareness across my skin. He paused when his fingers reached my hand. He took my fingers into his and inspected each one, circling his thumb upon each digit. He inspected my hand as if it were the only hand he had ever seen. I watched the expression of wonder flicker over his features.
A Cursed All Hallows' Eve Page 105