by Sandra Heath
"I will call at ten," Chloe promised, and raised a hand for assistance from the sofa.
Rupert and Oliver reached out in unison, jostling against each other in the process, so she tactfully accepted her father's hand instead. Evangeline rang a hand bell to summon Fosdyke, and everyone went out into the hall to say farewell to the guests.
As the butler assisted Chloe and Oliver with their outdoor things, Sir Jocelyn noticed Evangeline fingering her locket as she glanced up at the kissing bough. "Memories are sweet, are they not?" he said softly.
"Mayhap I now have a little more than just memories."
"What do you mean?"
"What's in a name, sir, what's in a name," Evangeline replied enigmatically.
Sir Jocelyn stared at her, and then gave a slight gasp and glanced fleetingly at Megan. "So that's it! Why didn't I make the connection before? I knew there was something familiar-"
Evangeline tapped him with her fan. "Not a word to anyone just yet. Promise?"
"Of course."
As the front door was opened and Oliver stepped out with Chloe, Sir Jocelyn paused to look back at Megan, as if something had suddenly become blindingly clear to him.
When they had gone and Fosdyke closed the door, Rupert turned heavily to Greville. "I need a large cognac to wash Oliver March from my mind," he said, and returned to the drawing room. Greville followed.
Evangeline nodded at Megan. "You are excused until tomorrow now, Miss Mortimer. I wish you to read to me while I take my morning tea in bed. I keep a volume of Gil Blas at my bedside. Do you know it?"
"Oh, yes, for it was my father's favorite too."
"Ah, yes."
"Lady Evangeline. I noticed the bookcase in the drawing room, and wondered if-?"
"If you could borrow a volume?"
"Yes."
"Of course you may, my dear. If you have a liking for gothic novels, you will find a copy of Mr. Walpole's The Castle of Otranto. "Evangeline smiled, then walked away toward the theater. Megan heard her summon Rollo in a tone that augured ill for him. "Right, Master Witherspoon, I require words with you!" Then the door closed.
Chapter 18
It was gone midnight, and Megan had heard everyone retire to their rooms. Comfortably tired but not yet quite ready to sleep, she sat up in the bed to read The Castle of Otranto. Radcliffe House was very quiet, the flame of bedside candle fluttered and grew tall, and the fire in the hearth shifted slightly. Mr. Walpole's chapters were quite long, and gradually her eyes began to close. She fell asleep with the book still open.
Suddenly there was a stealthy tap at the door, and her eyes flew open again. "Who-who is it?"
Edward the footman spoke very softly in order not to awaken Evangeline in the apartment opposite. "I have a message for you, Miss Mortimer. You're to burn it when you've read it." Candlelight flickered beneath the door as he pushed a folded piece of paper into her room.
Feeling uneasy, she got out of bed. The note was short and to the point. Meet me now if you value your post. Edward will bring you. It wasn't signed, and she didn't recognize the writing, but she still knew it was from Oliver.
"You're to be quick about it," Edward whispered.
She threw the paper on to the fire, and watched flames reach from the dimly glowing coals to lick eagerly around it. The blackened remains curled and shivered, and sparks fled up the chimney toward the night sky; then the flames died back once more.
"Are you coming or not, miss?" Edward hissed, growing impatient.
She didn't want to see her cousin, but knew it was in her best interest to do as he wished. If she could convince him that she wished to keep silent and out of his way, maybe that would be the end of it. Her decision made, she hurried to speak to Edward through the door. "All right, I'll come. Where is he waiting?" she asked.
"The summerhouse. Look, get a move on. I'll be downstairs in the hall." Edward was uneasy, for he knew Evangeline to be a relatively light sleeper.
Megan quickly put on her shoes and mustard gown, and after dragging a brush through her hair, swung her new cloak around her shoulders. She paused to look out of the window at the summerhouse, and at first thought it was deserted, but then she saw Oliver. He wore his greatcoat, and his top hat was pulled very low over his face as he still kept well back to avoid immediate detection by any casual glance from an upper room of the house. He had gained access to the garden by means of ladders on either side of the garden wall bordering the remains of Great East Street.
Edward was waiting for her in the hall, his face annoyed in the light from the candle he held. He wore his livery coat over his nightshirt. "About time!" he snapped, still being careful to keep his voice down.
"Are you Mr. March's creature now, Edward?" she asked quietly as she followed him toward the kitchens.
"If I am, it's no business of yours. And if you're thinking of speaking out of turn to her ladyship, you'd best think again, because Mr. March looks after his own."
"If you believe that, you'll believe anything," she replied scathingly. Look after his own? Her dear cousin only looked after himself! She was living proof of that!
The sound of their voices had come to Rollo's attention. The ghost, who never slept, was in the theater amusing himself by practicing the levitation of things on the stage. He had never been terribly good at levitation, and sometimes thought he would never get it right. He had managed to make some pieces of shipwreck and llyrian rocks hover in midair, and some of the ropes from the flies wriggle like snakes, but they didn't do exactly what he wanted or go when he wanted. Frowning, he tried to concentrate his supernatural energy, but then he heard the low voices coming from the hall, and he let everything return to its proper place.
" 'O mistress mine! Where are you roaming?' " he murmured as he went to investigate.
Megan heard his steps and glanced back. She saw his faint outline again as he passed a thin sliver of moonlight that found its way between some poorly drawn curtains, and she wondered why she could see him sometimes but not always. Edward sensed nothing as he conducted her through the kitchens, where he extinguished the candle, then out into the walled garden. The night was bitterly cold, and the clear sky was filled with stars, except to the north, where a bank of cloud lay low in the heavens.
The ghost's steady tread followed, and Megan heard him mutter another quotation. " 'Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.' "
She halted in front of the summerhouse, where Oliver still waited in the shadows. "You wished to see me?" she said.
"Come inside, and keep your voice down. Sound travels on a night like this."
Reluctantly she did as he asked, and he reached out to pull her right back behind the bench. Then he glanced out at Edward. "Stand away now, for this is not for your ears. And be sure to keep out of sight from the house."
"Yes, Mr. March." Edward hurried toward the black shadow cast by the garden wall.
Oliver then looked at Megan. "Now, coz, we have things to clear between us," he said softly.
"You have already made your wishes very plain, sir."
"I need to be certain that not a word of our past dealings will come to light."
"Our past dealings? Sirrah, you were the only one who dealt anything!"
He smiled. "I was within my rights."
"Legally, maybe, but certainly not morally! You didn't even want my father's estate, for it brought you little in the way of income, and you certainly did not desire to live in it. Berengers has been left vacant and crumbling ever since you evicted me, and I despise you for that more than you will ever realize!"
"Oh, I realize, my dear, I realize." Still he smiled.
"In spite of that, you may rest assured that I have no intention of saying anything to anyone."
His pale eyes flickered. "I'm not foolish enough to trust your word alone, so let me remind you that I know the full lurid details of your shocking little escapades in Bath."
"Ralph Strickland hasn't told the truth."
"Oh, I do
not doubt it, but as far as everyone here is concerned, his account will be the truthful one."
"You are too late, sir. Lady Evangeline already knows what happened, and she heard it from Lady Jane Strickland herself."
It wasn't the response he had been expecting, and he turned slightly away. For a long moment he was silent, then he faced her again. "I am prepared to pay you handsomely to quit Lady Evangeline's service and disappear."
She stared at him. "You cannot be serious!"
"Never more so. I will advance you your wages for a year-half now, half when you have done as I wish."
Rollo heard. " 'I like not fair terms and a villain's mind,' " the specter breathed.
Suddenly Oliver caught hold of Megan's arms, his face only inches from hers. "Be warned not to decline my offer, for if you do it will be the worst for you. Cross me at your peril, coz," he breathed.
This was too much for Rollo. It was bad enough that a man should lay hands upon another and utter such threats, but that he should do it to a woman was intolerable. "Vile knave! Insect of insects!" he cried, and fixed his attention upon the path that ran around the lawn as he willed some of the gravel to fly through the air and strike Oliver. But although the tiny stones rustled and jumped about a little, they certainly didn't obey his will. Uttering a curse, the spirit bent to seize a handful and hurl it at Oliver, who suddenly found himself being rained with tiny sharp missiles.
"Great God above!" he gasped, instinctively backing away. More gravel struck him, and he ducked, clutching his top hat on his head for protection.
Megan whirled about to look where she knew Rollo to be. She could see a vague shape bending to gather more ammunition. More gravel hurtled through the air like grapeshot, and Oliver whipped around to look ferociously at Edward, who immediately threw up his hands in alarm.
"It's not me, Mr. March! I swear it!"
"Then, who-?" Oliver yelped as more gravel found a target. By the direction from which it came, he now realized Edward could not be throwing it, so he cast around for the culprit. "Who's there?" he cried. More gravel struck him. "Help me, damn you!" he begged Edward, but the terrified footman couldn't move.
Rollo, well into his ghostly stride now, decided that Edward needed a little punishment too, so he tossed some ammunition at the young man's bare shins, yelling. " 'Out, damned spot! Out I say! One; two; why, then, 'tis time to do't!' "
Edward gaped foolishly down at his stinging legs, and choked back a frightened sob. Then at last he found the wit to take to his heels and make a dash for the house as if someone had set fire to his nightshirt. But as he sprinted for the kitchen door, another barrage of gravel scored a bull on his posterior.
Rollo gave a triumphant snort of laughter, then returned his attention to Oliver, who had begun to back toward the ladder against the wall. The wraith wasn't having any of that, so he ran to cut off Oliver's escape, then hurled gravel again. Oliver made a sound that resembled a squawk, and hastily backed the other way, but whichever way he went he was assailed by the flying gravel. At last he fled headlong toward the ladder, but in his haste he dislodged it, and it toppled over, striking him on the head and knocking him out.
Rollo wasn't in the least concerned. "Ha!" he declared, and as he strode over to examine Oliver, he rubbed his spectral hands together for a job well done. Then he prodded the unconscious man with his foot. " 'O Mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure?' "
Oliver didn't move, in fact he was so still that Megan was apprehensive. "He-he isn't dead, is he, Master Witherspoon?" she asked, going closer.
"Nay, mistress, he is just-" Rollo broke off in astonishment as he realized she had addressed him. "Thou canst see me, sweet lady?"
"Sometimes, but I always hear you."
"The saints be praised, now I have two angels to save me! Oh, blessed, blessed fortune. They say miracles are past, but it is not so! he cried, and snatched off his plumed hat to sweep her an eloquent bow. Then he came to seize her hand and shower it with kisses. His touch was strangely warm and firm, like that of a living man.
Oliver groaned a little, and Rollo returned to him. "We will speak again, mistress, but I pray thee do not tell anyone of me. Certainly do not speak of me to the Lady Evangeline."
"But why, if she already knows about you?"
"She hath a special task to perform, and it must be done without her knowing why. Consultation might lead to full understanding, and that she must not have."
"Can you tell me about this special task?"
"No, mistress."
"Why?"
"It is ye unwritten rule, dear lady. A spirit must not explain reasons to the living, except sometimes when the living are unconscious."
"That's silly." She glanced at Oliver, who stirred a little more.
"I will not argue, but nevertheless it is so. I cannot and durst not transgress, for to do so is to be certain of a lonely eternity, and no spirit wishes that. Our existence is made bearable only by the constant hope of redemption."
Megan thought for a moment. "Master Witherspoon, is this special task something to do with St. Nicholas's church?"
He gasped. "Ah, lady, lady, the quickness of thy intelligence is sweet music to me, and if thou shouldst guess how thou may save me, I will adore thee for all time. But I say again that I cannot explain anything to thee. Now, go inside, mistress. I will wait until this scurvy rogue hath left. And if he should endeavor to plague thee more, thou hast only to tell thy friend Rollo Witherspoon." The specter sketched her another grand bow, then turned to direct his attention to the ladder, which obediently rose against the wall again.
Megan hesitated. "Thank you for coming to my rescue, Master Witherspoon."
"I did but brush aside two flies that were besetting thee, sweet lady."
She smiled at him, then hurried back to the house.
Chapter 19
Megan did not expect to sleep again after that, but to her surprise her head could barely have touched the pillow before she was deep in dreams. She was awoken the next morning, Saturday, December 20, by the sound of Evangeline's gardeners complaining to each other about the gravel on the lawn. She lay warmly in bed, thinking about the eventful night. She would have to face Oliver again soon, and she knew he was not the sort of man to be deterred by just one setback. He would seek her out again, and it would not be a pleasant experience. At least she was prepared for him next time, and had Rollo's promise of assistance, but there ought to be something more. It was something she had to dwell upon very carefully.
When it was time to get up and go to Evangeline, the last thing Megan wished to do was read Gil Bias. She was bursting to talk about Rollo, but because the ghost had been adamant about her silence, she knew she could not say anything. It was most frustrating, for she and Evangeline together might be able to discover what it was the spirit required to be done. At least if it was connected with the church she knew where to begin, and she could only hope it wouldn't be too long before she had time to go there again. After dressing in her new apricot-and-white-striped muslin morning gown, and pinning her hair up in a tidy knot, Megan went along to Evangeline's rooms to read to her. The bank of low cloud she had noticed in the night now covered the sky from horizon to horizon, a breeze was blowing, and there was a dusting of snow on the Downs. She thought about Mrs. Fosdyke's bunion, and wondered if it was accurate enough to ensure Evangeline the kudos of driving out in the royal sleigh.
That was what Evangeline was wondering too; indeed all thought of Le Sage's masterly novel was abandoned because she could think only about the sleigh, concerning which she had already dispatched Fosdyke to the Marine Pavilion, Prinny's written consent firmly in his hand. Well, perhaps it wasn't quite true that the sleigh was all she could think about, for the costumes for Twelfth Night were also very much on her mind. Apart from her jester suit, the contents of her theater wardrobe no longer pleased her. Everything was too gaudy, too drab, too flimsy
, too heavy, too anything one cared to mention, except acceptable.
Megan was glad when the time came to go down to breakfast, but first she sought Rollo in the theater. There was no sign of the ghost, however, nor had he gone to breakfast as he had the previous day. A very wan and nervous Edward was in charge of the sideboard, and whenever he brought something to the table, he hobbled because his shins were so sore. He also appeared to be in some discomfort from his rear end, which was hardly surprising, Megan thought with some satisfaction. She wondered how Oliver was this morning. Virtually laid up, she hoped.
Edward avoided catching her eye, indeed he seemed so intent on keeping well away from her that he could barely stretch to place her plate before her. She realized that he thought she had a mysterious ally, with whom he had no desire to risk another encounter. Let him go on thinking it, for it was true!
At first she was alone at the table with Rupert, who had a guilty conscience about the undue attention he had paid her the night before. "Miss Mortimer, about my conduct last night…"
"Please think nothing of it, Lord Rupert, for I quite understand," she replied with a smile.
"You do?"
"Of course, and when I go shopping with Miss Holcroft this morning, I promise to do all I can to promote you."
"You are an angel, Miss Mortimer."
"No, sir, I am just someone who hopes Miss Holcroft will soon see the light where Mr. March is concerned, and that she then grants you your heart's desire." Megan glanced at Edward, who must have heard everything, and who would, she trusted, relay it all to Oliver. She had decided upon a way to keep her cousin at arm's length, and she was so pleased with her idea that she did not care if Oliver knew what she said. It was seeing Greville at the writing desk that had provided the inspiration; all she had to do was write a little letter of her own, to be opened in the event of anything unpleasant happening to her, and then let Oliver know of its existence. With that and Rollo, she was surely safe.