Ghosts from the Past (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies)

by Charles, Jane

  18

  A thousand sweet and mingled emotions pressed upon her heart, yet she scarcely dared

  to trust the evidence of sight.

  A Sicilian Romance

  Ann Radcliffe

  Natalie sank down onto the settee when the front door closed after Anton. Tears sprang her eyes. Her heart ached so painfully she was not certain she could move forward. Why did he have to come here now? Why couldn’t he have waited a few days so she could think over everything that had occurred and try to put reason to it? Had she known Anton was in the foyer, she would have never gone downstairs, but hid in her room, where it was safe.

  But it wasn’t. She had left the chamber because the memories of two years ago and the past few weeks haunted her. Why hadn’t he just come to her and asked? Why stop her carriage, and then kidnap her? Had he hated her so much? How could he have ever believed she would have betrayed him? Was his trust in her love so weak? Or, had he not loved her with the same capacity to know she would have rather died than turn on him?

  “This is so tragic,” Rosemary whispered from the room across the hall.

  For once Sophia agreed with her.

  Eliza sat at the table, her head down and Sophia feared she took the conversation harder, more personally than her friends.

  “Come,” Rosemary said. She scooted out of the room and up the stairs. Eliza and Sophia followed her until they were behind a closed door in Rosemary’s room. “We need to fix this.”

  “I am not sure it can be,” Eliza muttered. “A person can only take so much betrayal of a family member before they don’t wish to see them ever again.”

  The girls looked at her. “Your family hasn’t lied to you, Eliza,” Sophia said softly.

  Tears sprang to the girl’s eyes. “No, they simply ignore or forget about me.”

  Rosemary settled onto the bed beside Eliza. “They are busy. I am sure it only seems like they don’t care, but I am sure they do.”

  Eliza pulled a clipping from a newssheet from her pocket and passed it to Sophia. “If that is true, then why do I have to read about my brother’s marriage in the papers?”

  Sophia unfolded the paper and read the announcement.

  “Nobody bothered to tell me.” She gestured to the document. “This is how I learned I have a sister-in-law.”

  Sophia’s heart ached for Eliza.

  “It probably happened so quickly they didn’t have time to tell you,” Rosemary offered. “Maybe he compromised her and had to get a special license and everything moved so fast your parents knew they wouldn’t have time to bring you up for the wedding.”

  As much as Sophia became irritated when Eliza or Rosemary grew fanciful, where Eliza and her family was concerned it was a blessing.

  Eliza looked at Rosemary with disbelief and a bit of sadness. “I thank you for what you are trying to do, but one does not have a wedding at St. Paul’s with all of society looking on without having planned for a very long time.”

  Rosemary’s shoulders slumped.

  Sophia wished she could find the right words to offer comfort to Eliza. Both she and Rosemary had a loving family and Sophia, especially, was close to her father. Her mother wrote often and her older brothers sent treats. Rosemary rarely saw her parents, but packages were sent weekly from wherever they had traveled to. The couple hadn’t been in England in almost a year, yet it never failed that Rosemary received something from around the world with long letters from both parents describing their adventures. Rosemary couldn’t write them back because she never knew how long they would be in one place, though they assured her they would return to England when it was time for her to leave school.

  Eliza was lucky to receive a letter from her mother every three months, if that. Many times the letters were short and read like an afterthought, and full of explanations of why they forgot to bring her home for a holiday and how busy they were with promises to plan better in the future. As such, Eliza spent most holidays with Sophia and her family, along with Rosemary. She was all either one of them had at the moment.

  “I know,” Rosemary said a moment later, straightening. “Your invitation must have been in documents the Ghost took from someone.” She turned more fully to Eliza. “Your father is very important in the government. I will wager his carriage was stopped and they took the documents in his possession, which also included word of your brother’s marriage and plans to bring you home. Your mother didn’t realize you weren’t told.”

  Eliza smiled weakly at her. If it had been anyone else’s family, she would have latched onto the possibility and gone along with Rosemary’s tale and built upon it, but they all knew better.

  “I bet you will find it in the old manor. The Ghost probably put all the documents he stole into the house and we will find it along with the other information we are looking for about Miss Pritchard’s husband.”

  Sophia had hoped they let go of the idea of going into Creighton Manor. It wasn’t right to trespass nor should they snoop around in another’s house. However, if it distracted Eliza from thinking about her brother’s wedding and how nobody in her family thought to mention it to her, she would go along with the plan and pray they didn’t get into too much trouble.

  Anton pushed away from the table. The meal Vanko had cooked was filling but lacked taste. Now that he was no longer hiding from everyone it was time to hire servants to make the rest of the house habitable, but first, they needed a cook. He was tired of eating the same four meals Vanko knew how to prepare. Of course, it was better than anything he could cook. If he were alone, every meal would consist of bread and porridge. That is what came of being raised as a privileged and wealthy young man. While he may have been fashionably dressed, he knew nothing about preparing a simple meal.

  “Spasleba,”

  “You are welcome.” Vanko walked from the room and into the library. There was no sitting around the table enjoying cigars and port. It wasn’t necessary when two gentlemen shared the dust-covered, cobweb-riddled mausoleum.

  He poured a glass of brandy for each of them and they settled in. It was already dark outside. What was Natasha doing now? Had she dined on the finest china, partaken of a five course meal and was now sipping a sweet wine and talking with Lady Atwood?

  Would she one day rule over this house, planning a proper menu and directing servants?

  Would she ever forgive him?

  “Quit thinking of your wife,” Vanko ground out.

  Anton shot him a look. How did Vanko know what was on his mind?

  “I know look well.” He grunted. “I saw it enough in prison.”

  “Nothing can be done about Natasha tonight,” Anton agreed begrudgingly. “I know my wife. She only needs time.” He sipped from his drink. “At least I hope that is all.”

  He had changed in the past two years. How much had she while mourning her husband and brother only to be betrayed by him?

  Would she be his again or had he destroyed any future for them?

  There was nothing he could do about Natasha at the moment, unless he went to Atwood Manor. He glanced out the window to the dark night. How hard would it be to determine which room was hers? Gaining access would be easy enough. The stone of the manor made it easy to climb and if she remained true to habits her window would be unlocked. Then he could sneak into her room, bringing a flower of course, and kiss her until she forgave him.

  “She probably locks her windows now,” Vanko said dryly.

  Anton sighed. His friend knew him too well.

  “Besides, I am sure Atwood has guards posted.”

  That was probably true as well.

  He had to do something. He couldn’t just sit her and hope that one day she forgave him. He tossed back the remains of his brandy. He would fight for her. If it was the last thing he did, he would get his wife back. If only he had a clue as to how to go about achieving her forgiveness and then he would spend the rest of his days trying make up for all the pain he had caused her.

  Anton walk
ed to the windows and glanced out to the school upon the cliff. There were lights in some windows, but the one to Natasha’s chamber remained dark. How long would she remain with Lord and Lady Atwood? What did he need to do to win her again and make her mistress of this manor?

  “When I was in town, I heard more rumors of the ghost.”

  This got his attention and Anton turned. “The rumors will probably die down once the Ghost no longer stops carriages.”

  “I am not so certain,” Vanko hedged.

  Anton snorted. “Because there isn’t anything else worth talking about?”

  “No.” Vanko grew serious and took a deep drink. “This isn’t the first time we have heard of gentlemen being stopped and being relieved of their documents.”

  He nodded. He assumed the men made up the tale for whatever reason. It could have been to save face or explain away misplaced papers.

  “A Lord Collins was stopped a day out of London. The man took the documents he was to deliver to a Lord Hopkins, kissed the wife and left.”

  It meant nothing to Anton. He didn’t know the names of the people he stopped and the last time he was that close to London was over a month ago.

  “This was two days ago.”

  The impact of Vanko’s words hit him and Anton spun around. “That is impossible. We were here.”

  “Remember how many times men insisted they didn’t carry documents, or tried to shove papers at you?”

  Anton nodded. It had happened more and more over the last few months but he had never given it much thought other than why papers and not jewels or money.

  “What if there is another ghost?”

  This did not sit well. It wouldn’t be a surprise to find out there were highwaymen riding across England, but did he call himself the ghost or had others given him the name, confusing the two men? But, he kissed a lady. That was what he did, and what he had done in Russia. Could the man know about the Russian Ghost?

  “Perhaps he is copying what I have done to confuse people.”

  “It is what I considered, but he takes papers.”

  “Too much like Russia.” Vanko reminded him.

  Dimitri had mentioned the Englishman to Natasha. Could the two be related? It was unlikely, but it didn’t help with Anton’s unease. “I’d like to catch this man. Find out who he is.”

  “How do we do that?”

  “Shhh.” The slightest whisper came from the corridor outside of the library.

  The men stiffened.

  “They are in there,” a girl’s voice hissed. “We need to go.”

  “No, not until we search,” another girl insisted.

  “They are still awake and we will be caught,” the first girl said.

  Anton was certain the girls thought they were being quiet, but he had trained far too many years to listen through silence, for the slightest sound coming from a distance.

  A smile tugged at the corner of Vanko’s mouth. Anton quietly walked toward the door. Years of training, to move without making a sound made it easy to sneak up on someone. Vanko stood and the thud of his booted foot flooded the silence.

  Anton lifted a hand to silence his friend.

  Vanko nodded and instead, moved loudly toward the opposite side of the room and to the doors leading to the terrace. He opened them, paused for a moment and looked around. “You are right, Anton. It is lovely night. I will join you.”

  Anton slid behind the doors leading to the library and waited.

  “I knew they would leave. Let’s be quick about this,” a young woman insisted.

  “We shouldn’t be here,” another whispered.

  “They will never know,” one of them hissed.

  “Which room?” one of them asked.

  “Probably the one they were just in,” another answered.

  “We can’t go in there.”

  “Of course not,” one of them chastised. “We will wait in another room until they go to bed and then search it.”

  Anton waited as the young women moved further into his house. They passed the library door. He slipped out and followed them to the next room. The one with red hair turned the handle and pushed the door open to a long abandoned sitting room.

  “I can’t see a thing,” the dark haired one muttered, peering over the shoulder of her friend. The blond waited in the background, arms crossed over her chest. They were the same three who had been stuck in the tunnel beneath the manor when the tide came in.

  “There is nothing to see,” Anton whispered.

  All three screamed and jumped before turning. Vanko chuckled behind him.

  “Mr. Kazakov,” the blond gasped.

  He braced his feet, crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the three students. “Why are you in my house?”

  The blonde stood in a stance similar to his own, eyes narrowed on her friends, and looked as if she waited for an explanation as well.

  “We were looking for an invitation,” the dark haired one blurted out.

  Anton rubbed his eyes. “Invitation?”

  “Yes,” she explained. “We hoped it was in the documents you had taken and simply wished to retrieve it.”

  “Documents?”

  The redhead came forward. “The Ghost takes documents from carriages carrying important gentlemen. I thought perhaps you had stopped my father’s and when you took his papers accidently took an invitation for me.”

  Anton could only stare at them. “I’ve never taken documents.”

  The redhead and brunette frowned. The three were not much younger than Natasha had been when he first saw her in Sankt Peterburg. Of course, he didn’t chance speaking with her until a year later. Natasha had attended the same school as these three. Had she been as much a handful as the girls before him?

  Most certainly, Anton decided.

  He shook his head and turned around. He was not about to answer their questions. “Come with me.” He strode down the hall toward the entrance and waited at the entrance to the manor.

  The three hurried toward him. He grabbed his great coat and opened the door.

  The three girls scampered outside.

  “We can find our own way back,” the one with chestnut curls insisted. “There is no need for you to come with us.”

  Anton stared down at them. “There is every reason.”

  The redhead muttered something under her breath which he did not catch. The blonde looked over at her. “I warned you this would happen.”

  “Oh, be quiet, Sophia.”

  19

  “…My resentment towards him was done away, when I observed his pale and

  altered countenance, and perceived the melancholy which preyed upon his heart.” All

  the airy vivacity of his former manner was fled, and he was devoured by unavailing

  grief and remorse.”

  A Sicilian Romance

  Ann Radcliffe

  Natalie stared at the bed with longing. As soon as she was out of this gown and into a night dress, all the better. She was exhausted and perhaps tonight she could fall into a dreamless sleep.

  She stifled a groan at the scratch on her door but called for the person to enter. Hopefully, it was one of her friends, or perhaps a maid to help her. Instead, Wesley stood at the threshold. “You are needed downstairs.”

  Surely she didn’t have another visitor. Not at this late hour.

  “It is those three and I thought it best that you deal with them.”

  Natalie sighed. Tess and Atwood had long retired, as had Claudia. If the girls had snuck out of the house again she would wring their necks.

  With a huff she marched out of her room, down the stairs and was brought up short to find Anton standing in the foyer with the three most troublesome students to ever grace the halls of Wiggons’ School for Elegant Young Ladies.

  Natalie pointed to the sitting room and the three girls skulked in, followed by Anton. She entered then closed the door behind her. “What is this about?”

  “I found
them sneaking about my house.”

  She fisted her hands and took a deep breath. “Why?”

  “We were looking for an invitation,” Eliza blurted out.

  Natalie glanced at Anton. He simply shrugged.

  “You see,” Rosemary began. “We thought perhaps Eliza’s invitation to her brother’s wedding had been accidently taken by the Ghost and we thought to retrieve it.”

  Natalie sighed and turned away. She had seen the announcement in the paper earlier in the week and had hoped to spare Eliza learning. She was well aware the girl had not received notification of the pending nuptials. Had she, Eliza would have mentioned it. She would have either been beside herself with excitement of her parents thinking of her or forlorn for not being brought home. As Eliza had behaved neither way, Natalie assumed they had forgotten their daughter once again.

  If anyone deserved to have their necks wrung it was Eliza’s family for discarding her as they had.

  “I am sure that isn’t the only reason you were there,” Natalie said a moment later. She wouldn’t be surprised if they also intended to learn what they could of Anton.

  Eliza and Rosemary blinked at her. Sophia turned away, unable to meet her eyes.

  Natalie didn’t have the patience to make them tell her what else they were about. She strode to the wall and yanked on the bell pull. Wesley arrived as soon as she let go.

  “Yes, Miss Pritchard?”

  “I would like the girls returned to their individual chambers and a footman stationed outside each door. They will not leave until I’ve determined they can.”

  “Very good,” Wesley nodded.

  “We will talk about this tomorrow.” She waited and watched and they prodded out of the room with Wesley following them then turned back to Anton. She hadn’t needed to see him tonight. “I apologize.”

  “They are curious,” he said.

  “They are going to land themselves in danger one of these days,” Natalie sighed and sank onto the settee.

  “I’ve brought a bit of wine,” Mrs. Zobard announced as she breezed into the room. “Unless Mr. Kazakov would prefer brandy.”