Bespelling Jane Austen

by Mary Balogh

  Caroline gave a brief curtsy and nodded when Mr. Blanchard executed a correct bow. “The pleasure is mine, Miss Merrill,” he said. When he raised his face and looked at her, she had the distinct impression he was laughing inside. At her.

  Beastly man.

  Then she realized what this could mean. Her dear friend Ellen was living with a vampire!

  However was she going to tell her? Caroline swallowed hard and refrained, with difficulty, from biting her lip. She would say nothing until she confirmed her suspicions, and then she would carefully divulge the news. Poor, dear Ellen!

  She realized suddenly that Lord Rude—Mr. Blanchard—was looking at her, along with Ellen. “Pardon me,” Caroline said, her face heating again. “I was woolgathering for a moment.”

  “Mr. Blanchard is considering my request to accompany you on the twilight picnic tonight,” Ellen said, her eyes excited with the possibility.

  “But I would like to know exactly who is making up the party,” added Lord Rude.

  “It will be myself, along with Miss Isobel Thornton and her brother, Mr. James Thornton, as well as my brother, Mr. Robert Merrill, and perhaps three other friends of the Thorntons,” Caroline told him.

  After a moment, Lord—Mr. Blanchard—nodded briefly. “Then I should be quite remiss in withholding my permission, Ellen, dear. You may attend with my blessings.”

  The young woman clapped her hands and smiled in delight and, for a moment, Caroline thought she meant to bound into her guardian’s arms in appreciation. “Thank you, Mr. Blanchard.”

  “But perhaps I should join the party, as well,” he suggested, his attention sliding over Caroline and then back to Ellen. “It sounds as if it is to be quite the adventure.”

  No! Oh, no!

  Caroline’s eyes flew to his and she saw the mirth lighting them. “I do believe I shall,” he added blandly, looking at Ellen. “If you do not mind that an old man should join you.”

  “Why, Mr. Blanchard, you are not an old man,” Ellen said with the same sort of familiarity Caroline used when she spoke to her brothers. “Why, you cannot have attained more than thirty years! And there is not a speck of a gray hair in your entire head. You must certainly join us if you wish.” She looked at Caroline. “My guardian always seems to have the most interesting bits of information to share about any excursion on which we embark.”

  “Of course,” Caroline said, trying to keep her expression blank. Vampires were indeed ageless, and would never get gray hair no matter how long they lived. “But are you certain you will be able to attend? You must be very busy, Mr. Blanchard, and I do believe we intend to leave just before sundown.”

  She looked meaningfully at him with this last statement.

  “Before sundown?” he repeated. And then a flash of something shone in his eyes.

  He knows that I know. A rush of prickles swept over Caroline, but she maintained a calm expression. Her palms dampened beneath her gloves.

  “But you are quite correct, Miss Merrill,” he said, “I am rather busy this afternoon. Perhaps I shall not make it after all. Or perhaps,” he added, looking directly at Caroline, “I shall simply join your party later.”

  After the sun goes down.

  The words were unspoken, but Caroline heard them as if they had truly been uttered. Her breath became shorter and now she was more certain than ever that poor, dear Ellen’s guardian was a vampire.

  But then it occurred to her that, here he was, out in the daylight. How could he be a vampire—oh, of course. Robbie had mentioned the dark clouds, and Caroline well knew that a well-curtained carriage could shield one from whatever sun might filter through clouds, and one could alight beneath the cover of an awning. And if one remained inside dark buildings, such as these dank ruins, a vampire could indeed move about during the day if he took care.

  What was she going to do?

  “With your permission,” Mr. Blanchard said suddenly, glancing toward a cluster of people that included the orphan girl in the yellow frock, as well as her adoptive parents. “I shall take my leave. Ellen,” he added, drawing his attention away from the spectators and back to his ward, “I meant to tell you that your aunt was required to bring one of your cousins home for the headache, and she has asked me to escort you back. I will return for you in,” he glanced over again, “no longer than ten minutes.”

  “Oh,” Ellen said, seeming a bit crestfallen that their meeting should end so early. “But of course, Mr. Blanchard. And we will have plenty of time this evening, Caro, won’t we?”

  Before Caroline could reply, Mr. Blanchard walked off as if intent on meeting someone. She watched as he appeared to wander, but with a sense of direction nevertheless.

  Was he following the orphan girl in the yellow dress?

  But before Caroline could turn to watch him, Ellen tugged on her arm and said, “Come, Caro, let us finish looking at the Sacred Spring again before Mr. Blanchard returns.”

  Caroline bit her lip, but allowed herself to be directed off. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps the girl in the yellow dress would remain safely with her adoptive parents.

  But she could not put the young woman out of her mind and worried about her the rest of the day.

  CHAPTER 6

  AS IT TURNED OUT, THE THORNTONS’ CARRIAGE did not call for Caroline, Ellen and Robbie until the sun had actually set.

  Caroline had not really known whether the sun would be down when they left, but she felt not a bit of guilt that she had misled Mr. Blanchard. She simply did not want to have to worry about vampires tonight when she was exploring the moonlit ruins of Blaize Abbey, although she managed to fit a slender wooden stake and a bulb of garlic into her largest reticule. Despite her precautions, she was relieved when Ellen arrived at the Argenots’ home without her guardians.

  “Mr. Blanchard decided not to attend?” Caroline asked innocently.

  “Oh, he was much too busy. Although he said he might join us later, I do believe he was merely teasing me,” Ellen said.

  Privately, Caroline disagreed that Mr. Blanchard might do anything at all resembling teasing, but she said nothing to her friend and commenced with introducing her to Robbie. Shortly thereafter, the Thorntons arrived, and along with them, a second carriage, for by now the party had grown to eight.

  Isobel was delighted beyond words—quite a feat for her—to see Robbie again, and Caroline could see that he was quite attached to the young woman as well. Isobel arranged it so that she and Robbie rode in the same carriage as Caroline and Mr. Thornton, leaving poor Ellen to ride with the other three young people—the Misses Wren, and their cousin Mr. Yarmouth.

  Despite her efforts to include Ellen in their carriage, Isobel would have none of it. “It will throw the balance off,” she said in a fierce undertone to Caroline, and she settled herself next to Robbie. This left Caroline in the front with Mr. Thornton, who was driving the rig.

  “Let us be off!” Isobel crowed. Then she leaned forward to speak to Caroline. “You look very fine tonight, my dearest, darling Caroline! I do not think I’ve ever seen you so well.”

  “Thank you, Isobel,” she replied. “I confess, I—”

  “And do you not notice the cunning little beading on the edges of my gloves? I declare I’ve not seen anything to compare to it, and they look so lovely with my slippers. I do hope they don’t get ruined in the dirt,” she added with a sidewise glance at Robbie. “I can only imagine that the ruins will be frightfully messy. I may have to impose upon someone to assist me getting through the mud and over the dirt.”

  Caroline forbore to point out that it was foolish to wear such ornate and dainty footwear when one was going to explore ruins—she herself had donned her riding boots—but before she could open her mouth, Isobel had turned to Robbie and commenced a discussion about her pretty blue slippers and the beauty of the sunset beneath heavy gray clouds, and a variety of other things.

  This left Caroline to listen to Mr. Thornton’s discourse on whether one ought to eat
one’s toast with strawberry preserves or eggs. And aside from making her feel rather hungry, she found it one of the least interesting one-sided conversations ever.

  But less than thirty minutes after leaving the outskirts of Bath, Blaize Abbey rose on a low hillock above them and Caroline’s spirits picked up considerably. No sooner had she alighted from the carriage than she found Ellen. The two bosom friends clasped hands, looking about at the ragged stonework of the old abbey and the way it sprawled in a long, low area. The clouds had indeed gone, and the full moon cast a broad swath of light, almost as if it were day.

  “Shall we eat first?” suggested Isobel, who had taken no more than two mincing steps away from the carriage until Robbie gallantly spread his coat for her to walk upon.

  Noting that the grass was thick and full, and the waste of a good coat, Caroline said nothing to Robbie, but instead smiled to herself. He must be quite attached to Isobel if he would ruin his coat.

  Caroline and Ellen ate as quickly as they dared, planning their excursion through the grounds as they conversed with the twin Misses Wrens—who had little to recommend themselves as conversationalists except that they finished each others’ sentences. Mr. Thornton seated himself next to Caroline and endeavored to redirect the topic of discussion to classic Greek architecture, but even that fascinating subject failed to interest Caroline when led by Isobel’s brother.

  As soon as the meal was finished, she and Ellen started off on their explorations. Mr. Thornton insisted upon joining them. At first, he remained in their company, but when his suggestions for which direction to explore were ignored, he excused himself and wandered off along a different path.

  Caroline and Ellen were delighted to find dark and hidden cubbyholes, exposed by the small torches they’d lit from the carriage lanterns, and even a hollow stone bench in what appeared to be a sitting room that could have belonged to the abbess. It took great effort for them to move the heavy top, but Caroline went into raptures when her torch exposed an old string of prayer beads inside. She pulled them out to show Ellen.

  “This must have belonged to a poor young woman, sent away from the man she loved when her father refused to allow her to wed him,” Caroline guessed.

  “And she spent her days in prayer, lonely and sad, until she died an old woman,” agreed Ellen. “The beads are lovely! They look like opals.”

  “Such a fancy string of beads for a poor sister. She must have come from a rich family,” said Caroline. “Perhaps she became a powerful abbess herself, and this was her sitting room.”

  Just then, they heard their names being called. “Miss Henry! Caro! Where are you?”

  “That’s Robbie,” said Caroline.

  “There you are,” her brother said, coming around the corner. “I have been looking for you.” He spoke to Ellen, “Your guardian has just arrived and there was an unfortunate accident.”

  “What is it? Is Mr. Blanchard injured?” Ellen’s face paled in the torchlight and Caroline realized how fond she must be of her warden. What a tragedy it would be for her to learn the truth about him!

  “He is not injured, but Miss Thornton appears to have turned her ankle,” Robbie explained. “The party is to return to Bath now, and I have come to fetch you.”

  Caroline clamped her mouth shut over the disappointment that the excursion was to end so soon. And that the fault lay with Isobel, once again. Of course, it wasn’t Isobel’s fault she’d turned her ankle, although if she had worn more appropriate footwear, she may not have done so.

  Working to hide her disappointment, Caroline followed her brother from the ruins, feeling Ellen’s own discouragement as well. “Look here, Robbie,” she said, producing the prayer beads. “We found this in the abbess’s sitting room.”

  He took the beads and was examining them as they reached the rest of the group. Caroline’s eyes went immediately to Mr. Blanchard, who looked even more forbidding tonight, dressed all in black. The silvery moonlight gilded his austere face, making him appear even more the way she’d pictured Lord Tyndale. He turned to look at her, as if feeling her attention on him, producing a deep shiver down Caroline’s spine.

  Isobel sat on a blanket on the ground, and when Robbie went to kneel next to her, Caroline noticed that her friend hardly acknowledged his presence. She was more intent on describing her injury, in the most delicate terms, of course, to Mr. Blanchard.

  “Perhaps you might assist me to the carriage,” Isobel asked, offering her hand to Ellen’s guardian.

  Caroline watched in confusion as Lord Rude smoothly assisted Isobel to her feet, and when it appeared that the young woman could not stand on her own, he swept her into his arms and carried her to his rig.

  She glanced at Robbie, who’d passed the prayer beads to Mr. Thornton, and saw that he’d turned away from the little tableau. What had happened?

  Before she could pursue that thought, Caroline realized that Mr. Blanchard was about to drive off with Isobel—alone.

  “I must get back and have my ankle seen to,” Isobel was explaining to the Misses Wren. “Mr. Blanchard has offered to drive me.”

  “I shall ride along, too,” Caroline said quickly, hurrying to the rig. She could not allow Isobel to be alone with the vampire, and at least she had her stake to protect her if the need arose.

  “But of course, we must be properly chaperoned,” Lord Rude said, a faint smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “I was about to suggest that my ward might wish to ride with us, but if you would prefer to do the honors, Miss Merrill, I would not decline.” He gave a little bow that seemed more mocking than polite.

  “Oh,” Caroline said. “Of course Ellen must ride with you.” Surely the vampire wouldn’t do anything untoward with his ward in the carriage. And this would give her the chance to speak with Robbie about Isobel. They seemed to have been getting on quite well earlier. Perhaps they had had an argument.

  “What a lovely string of beads,” Mr. Thornton said, drawing Caro’s attention away as Ellen was helped into her guardian’s carriage. “Where did you find them?”

  Caroline explained, and even went so far as to show him the place in the old sitting room. That was when he tried to kiss her.

  “Miss Merrill,” he said, walking toward her so that her back bumped the stony wall. “I must proclaim my deepest regards for you.”

  Fearing that her face expressed three Os of surprise—her mouth and two eyes—Caroline struggled to find something to say. But Mr. Thornton glided closer, and she could not move when his hands settled on her shoulders and drew her close for a kiss.

  His lips settled over hers, light and warm…and chilly, too, from the night air…and she felt her heart pounding in her breast as he pressed them harder against hers. And then, to her great relief, he pulled away.

  “I do not wish to frighten you, Miss Merrill,” he said. “But I could not contain myself. You, here in the moonlight, are a sight to behold. My heart stirs when I look at you.”

  “Caro!”

  Thank heavens! “I’m here, Robbie,” Caroline called back.

  Moments later, Robbie appeared, looking a bit forlorn. “Are you ready to leave now, kitten?” he asked.

  “Yes, I am feeling quite weary,” she said.

  “I shall be along in a moment,” Mr. Thornton said, but Caroline hardly heard his words, for she was off so quickly with Robbie.

  “Whatever happened with you and Isobel?” she hissed as they exited the ruins. The Misses Wren and their cousin were still waiting, having climbed into their carriage.

  “I don’t know,” her brother replied. “One moment, she was delightfully Isobel, and the next, she had turned her ankle and could see only Mr. Blanchard.”

  He looked miserable and Caroline’s heart went out to him. “I am certain that Mr. Blanchard will provide no further competition for you after this night, darling,” she said. “Isobel could speak of nothing but you for the last week that I have known her. Perhaps she felt as if she were showing you too much attent
ion and wished to be more prudent.”

  Robbie seemed to lighten up after that, and Caroline was left to mull those very thoughts on the way home that night.

  But the next day her worries resurfaced, for she received a message—with an intriguing invitation—from Isobel and Mr. Thornton.

  We are returning to our family home, Northanger Castle, and request your presence at a weekend house party. Mr. Blanchard and Miss Henry have already accepted our invitation, and we should like you to make up the other guests. Regards, Miss Isobel and Mr. John Thornton.

  Although Robbie’s name wasn’t specifically mentioned in the invitation, Caroline responded with an acceptance for both of them, knowing that her parents’ permission would be more readily obtained if she were accompanied by her brother. And aside from that, she was certain that whatever had happened with Isobel was a misunderstanding that would easily be addressed when they were all together again.

  She did not miss the fact that the invitation was not given in person, nor did it have the same enthusiasm as Isobel’s previous schemes.

  Perhaps Mr. Thornton had insisted his sister extend the request.

  Regardless, Caroline was determined to go—for she must set things right with Isobel and Robbie, and she was the only person who realized the danger in the person of Mr. Blanchard. Above all, she must keep Ellen and Isobel safe from him.

  CHAPTER 7

  CAROLINE’S FIRST GLIMPSE OF NORTHANGER Castle was enough to set her heart to thumping in anticipation. Dark and gloomy, set atop a hill and surrounded by an iron-gated fence, the Thorntons’ homestead jutted with spires and odd-shaped additions. Trees grew nearby, ivy clung to the gray stone, and Caroline swore she saw a window curtain move in one of the high towers.

  She could not have imagined a more Gothic, secret-ridden structure had she tried.

  Oh, there must be hidden passages and locked-door towers throughout. Mysteries to solve, enigmas to uncover. Danger and perhaps even ghosts!