by Kruger, Mary
Giles looked up at him. He’d learn nothing more tonight, curious though he now was. There was something about Freddie, and about Anne’s life with him, that he didn’t yet know. “Let us go back and see.”
They returned to a house still in turmoil. The servants were flitting around, talking excitedly. Beth was still in the drawing room with the Whiteheads, though neither Julia nor Anne were anywhere to be seen. A look from Giles from under his brow was enough to scatter the servants back to their posts, though he knew he would not be able to handle Felicity so easily. He had no time to assuage her curiosity just now, though. There were other matters to see to.
“Anything?” he asked Benson, whose thinning hair was standing up and whose cheek was smudged.
“Something odd, Your Grace. It’s in the servant’s hall.”
“Very well.” Giles led the way belowstairs. “Is anyone missing?”
“No, Your Grace, all are accounted for. Except for those who have the evening off, of course.”
“I’ll want their names,” Giles said as he stepped into the servant’s hall, and stopped short. “Good God, what is that?”
On the deal table lay a mass of some grayish stuff, rubbery and flaccid. Attached to it was a long string. What its purpose was, Giles couldn’t even guess. “We found that in a tree outside the drawing room window, sir. Rather, one of the footmen did.”
“The string was all hanging down, Your Grace,” the footman said eagerly. “We pulled at it till it came loose.”
Giles looked distastefully at the rubbery mass. “What is it?”
“Ahem. A sheep’s bladder, Your Grace,” Benson said.
“What? What in the world—”
“Excuse me, sir, but I’ve heard that people will fill such things with the gas they use in balloons, so—”
“So they’ll float, and look like something flying outside a window. I see,” Giles said slowly. “Until it got caught in the tree.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Not the work of a ghost.”
“No, Your Grace.”
“Did anything else untoward occur while we were gone?”
“No, sir. The duchess decided to retire for the evening, and Mrs. Templeton is in the nursery, I believe.”
“Thank you.” Giles turned and left the servant’s hall. In the passage outside he met Obadiah, who wore a faintly bemused air. “Did you hear that?”
“Yes, sir. Seems to me I’ve heard of things like that. Easy for him to do, and then be there for us to chase.”
“But why? He must know we weren’t scared off. And how does he manage so that everyone hears him singing?”
“Well, sir, I’ve got some thoughts on that. Let me look around and see what I can find.”
Giles nodded. “Good enough. Let’s hope we catch him soon, Obadiah.”
“Yes, sir.”
The clock in the hall was chiming just as Giles closed the baize door that separated the kitchens from the rest of the house. Only ten o’clock. It seemed much later, so much had happened in a short span of time. Good lord, what else was going to happen this summer?
The nursery was lighted only by the faint glow of a candle. It gleamed off the pale satin of Anne’s gown and the richer gold of her hair as she sat beside her sleeping son. Giles made no sound as he stood watching her, tenderness welling up inside him. “Is he asleep?” he whispered as he walked into the room, and Anne started.
“Yes,” she whispered back. “Did you find anything?”
“No.” Giles shook his head as he drew over a chair to sit beside her. “Whoever it is led us a merry chase, but we didn’t catch him. One of the footmen found something though.” Quickly he explained about the sheep’s bladder, and saw comprehension dawn in her eyes. “Rather ingenious, wouldn’t you say?”
“You sound almost as if you admire him.”
“I wouldn’t go that far, no. You must admit, though, Anne, that no one’s been hurt.”
“Jamie believes in ghosts now,” she said in a muffled voice.
“All children do, Annie.” He reached up to tuck back a stray curl, and she shied away. “Jamie will be fine.”
Anne’s eyes were huge as they gazed up at him. “He’s all I have, Giles.”
“Someday he’ll grow up and marry, Anne. What then?”
“I’ll be happy for him, of course.”
“And in the meantime you’ll live your life for him?”
“He’s all I have,” she repeated.
“No, not all.” Giles rose, aware of her startled gaze. “We’ll be leaving for the theater soon.”
Anne shook her head. “I can’t go. I can’t leave him.”
Giles looked down at her. All the complicated emotions he felt for her rose up within him, the need, the desire, the tenderness. No, Jamie was not all she had.
He reached out to brush her cheek with his knuckles. “Don’t stay up too late, then, Annie.”
Her eyes held his. “I won’t.”
“Good. I—good night, Anne.”
“Good night, Giles,” she said, and he went out, closing the door behind him.
“What an extraordinary adventure that was last evening,” Felicity said the following morning as she sipped at her tea. During their morning promenade in the Tremont landau, Anne and Beth had encountered Felicity with her daughter, and had invited them to take tea. They had also met up with Mr. Seward and Lieutenant Bancroft, who somehow had been included in the invitation. “Have you found out yet what happened?”
“No.” Giles, leaning against the mantel, shook his head. He had things to see to, estate matters, investments, government business. It was, after all, his duty. But, duty be hanged. It was much too fine a day for him to stay locked in a dark room, working. Surely the sun had never shone so brightly, almost as golden as Anne’s hair; surely the sky had never been so deep a blue. Almost as blue as Anne’s eyes. Lord, he sounded like a besotted boy, rather than a man who should know better, but he had no regrets. Since the night in the book-room, when he had held her and kissed her, he had been seeing things in a different light. Where it would lead, he didn’t know, but that only added spice to the situation. His life had been quiet and dull for far too long. Obadiah had been right. It was high time things changed.
“Giles?” Felicity said, and he realized that she had been speaking to him.
“Excuse me, Felicity. I was thinking.”
“Mm-hm.” Felicity looked from Anne to him, a gaze he answered with a straight look of his own. “What an ingenious idea, to create something that looks like a ghost.” Shuddering, she glanced out the window. “It certainly looked real.”
“Not when you see how it was done. I would like to know how he manages the rest of it, but I suspect we shall find out soon. Mr. Freebody is looking into it.”
“Mr. Freebody? Oh, Anne’s servant.”
“Obadiah is nobody’s servant,” Anne said quietly.
“Of course not,” Giles said. “He has agreed to investigate, however, and I’m glad he is.”
“Yes. He’ll be hard to fool.” Anne set down her cup. “He grew up believing in ghosts and spirits. I think he’ll be more likely to spot any contrivances than anyone else.”
Giles nodded. “He’s a good man. Now, what is this I heard you talking about when I came in?” he asked Beth, who promptly colored. “Some kind of expedition?”
“I’ve been offered the use of a boat, Your Grace,” Mr. Seward said eagerly. “A beauty. There’s a crew to do the work, of course, and I thought we could have a luncheon aboard. Lady Whitehead and Miss Whitehead are enthusiastic about it.”
“Oh, dear. I fear I suffer so from mal de mêr,” Anne said, earning a sharp look from Giles.
“Oh, but Anne, we promise not to go very fast,” Beth said, leaning forward. “You’ll enjoy it, I know you will.”
“Felicity, you’re going, I suppose?” Giles said. “Very well, then. Beth will be adequately chaperoned. I’ll stay ashore and walk on the beac
h with Anne, to keep her company.”
Felicity’s eyes sparkled. “But then who will chaperone you?”
“Jamie,” Anne said, firmly. “He’ll enjoy this. And, Your Grace.” Anne turned to Julia. “You’ll come, too, won’t you?”
“Don’t be absurd, girl,” Julia growled, making everyone turn to look at her. Julia had been so quiet lately that her presence in the room had almost been forgotten. “Most unsuitable, a boat. No, I shall stay here and supervise the search for the rascal who keeps bothering us.”
“Very well, Mother.” Giles’s smile was unexpectedly gentle. “If they catch him, be certain to give him a piece of your mind.”
“I intend to.” Head held high, Julia walked out.
Giles watched her go, a little frown on his face, and then turned to the others. “Very well, then. Shall we go?”
Alone in her room Julia brooded, looking, in her unrelieved black, something like a big, puffy spider. Everything had changed since they had come to Brighton, and it was all that hussy’s fault. She had never liked Anne; she was too light-minded, too disrespectful of the past and its traditions. She especially did not like Anne’s effect upon Giles. Not that he seemed about to succumb to her lures, even if he did seem to be tempted. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Elizabeth, though. Julia leaned her head back against her chair and closed her eyes. She ached so, in every bone, in every joint, and her daughter was not here to keep her company or to bathe her forehead in lavender water. Elizabeth had changed. She was not her usual, quiet, dutiful self, but instead appeared to enjoy light-minded pursuits almost as much as the Warren hussy did. Julia was glad her daughter had overcome her natural shyness and now enjoyed socializing, but must she neglect her mother in the process? And that man she had taken up with! Giles was taking that matter much too lightly, leaving Julia frustrated, unhappy and angry. She had lost control of her children, and she didn’t know how to get it back.
There, there they all were, she thought, looking out her window, as the others walked toward the shore and their foolish expedition on a boat. Giles, thank heavens, was showing concern for her finer feelings by refusing to go aboard, knowing how she hated boats, but Elizabeth was heedless. It was because of that man, of course. Look at the way she leaned on his arm and smiled up at him. Most unsuitable. No matter that he came of good family and was charming in a roguish way that she herself might have liked when young. He wasn’t good enough for her daughter. The fact of his being a younger son aside, he wasn’t gentle enough for someone so shy as Elizabeth. She could so easily be hurt. More than anything else, Julia wanted to spare her children pain.
Ah, well, it would all be over soon, she thought, and smiled. Matters were proceeding quite well. Summer would be ending, perhaps more quickly than anyone expected. Soon, everything would be all right. Anne would be gone, and the family would be back at Tremont Castle, safe and secure. And life would go on as it should.
Chapter Sixteen
It was a perfect day for a sail upon the English Channel. Fluffy white clouds dotted the sky, and the breeze was brisk. On the beach below the chalk cliffs Anne held tightly to Jamie’s hand, while the others stepped carefully into dinghies, to be rowed to the boat anchored offshore. Long and graceful and white, its mahogany and brasswork gleaming in the sun, it looked almost as if it could fly. Anne glanced at it wistfully. She dearly loved sailing, which she had learned in Jamaica. No need to refine on it, though. Soon enough she would be back there, and she could sail as often as she wished. The thought brought with it a curious pang.
“I suppose I should thank you,” Giles, standing by her side, said in a low voice.
Anne looked up. “For what?”
“You’ve never been seasick a day in your life.”
Oh, dear. She had offended his pride. “Giles, you don’t think if—?”
“No,” he said, curtly, closing off that discussion.
“Mommy,” Jamie said suddenly, “why can’t I go?”
“Another time, pet.” Anne squeezed his shoulder.
“But I want to go now.”
“James, I do not like it when you whine.”
“But, Mommy—”
“Come, James.” Giles took the boy’s hand and turned away. “Let us see if we can’t find some driftwood or shells.”
“All right,” Jamie said, and though he was clearly reluctant, he let Giles lead him down the beach. Anne stayed behind for a moment. Jamie, and Giles. They were so alike in coloring and features, and they looked so right together that a lump came to Anne’s throat. Father and son. As it should have been; as it would never be.
Giles came back to her, looking quizzical. “Is he always like this?” he asked, gesturing toward Jamie, who had climbed atop some rocks and was shouting at the top of his lungs.
“So energetic? Yes. It can be quite wearing at times, but that’s what little boys are like.” She smiled up at him. “Undisciplined little savages. And from what I’ve seen, it doesn’t get much better as they get older.”
“I believe I’ve just been insulted.”
“You? You don’t know what it means to be undisciplined.”
“Now that is an insult,” he said and, catching her hand, began to run.
Off-balance, Anne stumbled, an exclamation tumbling from her lips. Of all the ridiculous things to do! But it felt good to run like this, hand in hand with him, rebelling against all the manners and conventions of their world. Defiantly she untied her bonnet and tossed it away, letting the wind and the salt air wreak havoc with her hair and not caring. She was free, and she was with Giles. All was as it should be.
Jamie joined in the race and, infected by his enthusiasm, they ran on. The beach eventually ended at a point where the cliff above them curved outwards, meeting the sea and forming a sheltered corner. Anne dropped down onto a rock, laughing and gasping for breath. “Heavens! I haven’t done anything like that in years!”
“Neither have I.” Giles’s eyes were brimming with amusement as he sat near her, leaning back on his elbows. His neckcloth was askew, his hair tousled, and his hessians had lost their shine to sand and salt. He was much, much more appealing, and handsome, like this. “I suspect we’ve lost whatever credit we had with society.”
“If anyone saw us.”
“Depend upon it. Somebody will have.”
“Lord knows what they think of me already,” Anne said, and smiled. “But your reputation will be ruined beyond repair. Jamie! Don’t wander too far, now.”
Giles looked down the beach, where Jamie walked, stopping occasionally to pick up a shell or a stone. “Does he swim?”
“Oh, yes. I don’t relish the thought of parading a wet little boy down the Steyne, though.”
“Nor do I. Do you know, your hair looks pretty like that.”
The warmth in his eyes unsettled her. “I must look a sight,” she murmured, putting her hand to her hair. Exercise and sea air had probably made it more unruly than usual. “I wonder what happened to my bonnet.”
“As your son’s guardian I should probably disapprove of your being so profligate,” he said, lazily. “But not when the effect is so charming.”
“Thank you, sir.” Anne glanced away. Was it her imagination, or did the sun no longer seem so bright? Or had the lightness simply gone from her own heart? She hadn’t forgotten Giles’s real relation to Jamie, but neither had she dwelt upon it. She had been content to drift along, sometimes indulging in the fantasy that she and Giles had never been estranged and that Jamie was his son. Such folly. It had to be the product of summer, and sun. The hard fact was that, for all her fine talk about her independence, she was still a woman dependent upon the whims of a man. As she had learned, to her cost, seven years ago. “Giles, why did you never marry?” she said idly, sifting sand through her fingers and avoiding his eyes.
Giles turned to look at her. “That’s an odd question for you to ask when you already know the answer.”
“But I don’t
, Giles.”
“Damn it.” He got up and walked a few paces away, and turned. “Very well. Let me ask you a question myself. Why did you marry Freddie when we had an understanding?”
“Because that was all it ever was, an understanding.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“Don’t play the innocent with me, Giles! What good is an understanding when you are already betrothed to someone else?”
“Betrothed—wait.” He thrust out his arm, barring her from going past him.
“Let me go, Giles.”
“Not until you explain what you just said.”
“I should think it’s perfectly clear.”
“Not to me. Did I marry someone else, Anne? Did I?”
“No. Did she jilt you, too?”
Giles jerked back, and she slipped by him. “No.” He caught at her shoulders, his hands surprisingly gentle. “No, I think we had better talk about this, Anne. It’s been between us since you returned.”
“It will always be between us,” she muttered, her head bent so that she wouldn’t have to look at him.
“I was never betrothed to another.”
“No?”
“No! Is this some Banbury tale you’ve concocted to put me in the wrong? You were the one who left. You were the one who married Freddie.”
“Because you were going to marry someone else!”
“Who, damn it?” He gave her a little shake. “Who?”
“Jennifer Stafford! Let me go, Giles.”
“Who?” Giles said blankly, letting his hands drop.
“Jennifer Stafford. About a year older than me, brown-haired, plump, rather pretty, quite dull and quite sensible. A suitable bride for the Duke of Tremont.”
“Not this one. Good God, Anne, if I can’t even remember her, why do you think I was going to marry her?”
“Because you were.”
“Damn it, I wasn’t.”
“Oh, don’t cozen me so. Do you know what it felt like when I learned that you didn’t love me, that you were only toying with me—”
“I wasn’t. Annie, is that why you left?”