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

by Charles, Jane

  He pulled it away from the wall and tilted it on the side so he could grasp the top and began to drag it down the dark corridor. He stopped as he reached the door leading to the room just before the cave entrance. It would be too easy to find. Turning, he dragged the ungainly item to the farthest, darkest space he could find in the cellar and left it there.

  Once that was taken care of, he returned to the corridor and entered the room right off of the cave. There were still a stack of blankets against the wall beside two lanterns. Anton yanked on the door leading to the cave. It was sealed tight, probably from the dampness saturating the wood. After three pulls he was able to wrench it open.

  He turned to study the lock on the door leading to the cave. It could be picked easily enough. How many people knew that it was here and how easy it would be to gain access to the manor through the cave? Should he but a stronger lock in place?

  What of the girls? He wouldn’t put it past them to try and sneak in again. Though he did not want them in his house, he didn’t want them left in the same dangerous situation as they had been the other night.

  No, he would put better locks on the door leading into the cellar from this room. That way, if the girls found themselves in a similar predicament, they would be safer in this room than at the water’s edge waiting for the tide to go out.

  He stepped out and walked down the slight slope leading to the beach. The closer he came to the opening the louder the sound of waves grew. Seagulls squawked in the distance and he stepped out into the bright sunshine. White-capped waves rolled onto the beach. The sea was rough today.

  “Eliza,” a girl screamed, grabbing his attention.

  Anton walked to the edge of the cave and looked toward the beach area from where the sound had come. Sophia stood at the water’s edge, her hand clasped in Rosemary’s. It appeared as if she were trying to pull the girl from the water. Just beyond, Eliza kept disappearing under the rough waves.

  “Bloody hell,” he muttered and he raced toward the water.

  He reached Sophia and Rosemary first. After grasping Rosemary by the waist, he lifted and tossed her away from the water and onto the sand. The girl may suffer a few bruises but it was better than drowning and he had to get to Eliza before it was too late.

  Anton rushed into the water. The waves pushed against his knees and then thighs while the undercurrent tried to pull his feet out from under him. Eliza probably couldn’t gain her feet in this turmoil, especially with skirts twisting about her legs. The water was only chest deep when he reached her and on a calm day, would not have been dangerous. She let out a yelp and went under again. Anton grasped her arm, the only visible part of her person before it could disappear under the waves then yanked her up. Eliza’s head surfaced and she sputtered. He grabbed her waist and tossed her over his shoulder and pushed through the water, walking parallel to the shore, bracing his boots into the sand each time a wave was to hit go keep from being knocked into the water. After several agonizing steps he was finally free of the powerful undercurrent and waded to the shore.

  Once he away from the water he let her drop to the sand. She blinked up at him with large, terrified eyes. She and Rosemary were soaked from head to toe and the bottom of Sophia’s skirts was wet.

  “All three of you could have been killed,” he barked out.

  They said nothing, just looked at him.

  “Sophia, get the blankets from the room at the back of the cave.” As she scampered off to do his bidding he gathering firewood. “Rosemary, if you are up to it, get the flint. I saw it lying in the room as well.”

  He didn’t expect Eliza to do anything. She sat in the sand, her knees drawn up to her chest. She was shivering, but he didn’t know if it was from the cold or fear of what happened, or a combination of both. Her face was wet and he couldn’t tell if she was crying or it if was from the sea. The girl was probably in shock from nearly drowning. All of them needed to get warm and dry, but he couldn’t take them into the manor. He was a bachelor, as was Vanko, and he wouldn’t put the girls’, or his, reputation in question, especially with them dressed in this state. Atwood’s manor was too far to reach by foot and in the wet dresses, especially with the high winds today.

  Sophia ran out first, blankets in hand. She wrapped one around Eliza. Rosemary emerged, already wrapped in a blanket and gave him the flint. Anton built a small fire toward the wall of the cliff and sheltered from the wind. Sophia helped Eliza to her feet and walked her toward the flames. Rosemary joined her and the three huddled around the heat.

  His fear and anger slowly calmed as he studied them. “What possessed you to go into the water on a day like today?”

  Eliza said nothing, probably because her teeth were chattering so hard it made it difficult to speak.

  “We’ve waded into the water before and nothing happened,” Rosemary said in defense.

  “I can assume it was only when the sea was calm.” Anton shook his head and tossed a few more pieces of wood on the fire.

  “We didn’t think…” Rosemary began.

  “Of course you didn’t think,” he cut her off. “That is the problem with you three, you rarely think matters through.”

  Their eyes widened and thankfully they didn’t say anything further.

  “You weren’t thinking when you entered the cave and were caught by high tide. You weren’t thinking when you snuck into my house, a stranger to you, looking for a document. I shudder to consider what else you may have done before I arrived. I am amazed your teachers don’t have grey hair already from having to watch over you three.” He anchored his hands on his hips and stared down at them. “Your teachers, especially Miss Pritchard, have enough to do and worry about besides wondering what scrapes the three of you will get yourselves into.”

  He turned and paced. “What if one of you would have died? Did you think about that? Of course you didn’t.” He stopped and glared at them. “I assume the three of you have some bit of intelligence between you. Start using it before one of you is harmed or worse.”

  The three shrank back and pulled their blankets tight around their bodies. Once they were sufficiently warmed, he would escort them back to Atwood’s estate and they could explain to their teachers why their clothing was now ruined beyond repair. It would serve them right if they developed a cold from this adventure. Not that the wanted them deathly ill, but a reminder of what could happen and the consequences they court would not be hurt either.

  Sophia knew he was right and she was still shaken by the close call of almost losing Eliza. She had been lucky enough to grab Rosemary before she was dragged out to sea. “We are sorry, Mr. Kazakov.”

  He only acknowledged her with a nod.

  “Our teachers are going to kill us,” Rosemary muttered.

  “Not if they don’t find out,” Eliza whispered.

  “Oh, they have found out.”

  Sophia jolted at the sound of Miss Pritchard’s voice. They were done for now.

  She speared them each with a telling look that their troubles were far from over before she focused on Mr. Kazakov. “Thank you.”

  He nodded again. Why wasn’t he speaking?

  Miss Pritchard turned back to them. “You three are the most foolish girls I have ever encountered. If Mr. Kazakov had not been here, Eliza would have been washed out to sea, dead and drowned. That is not a letter Mrs. Wiggons wants to write.”

  The girls straightened.

  “The three of you will be punished, harshly. I have a mind to send you from this school and back to your parents.”

  “No,” Eliza cried in unison with Rosemary “Please, don’t.”

  “You leave me little choice,” Miss Pritchard insisted. “Not only are the three of you a danger when together, but the younger girls look up to you. This is not the influence you should be having on them.”

  “They don’t know what we did,” Eliza insisted.

  “How do you know?” Miss Pritchard demanded. “This beach can be seen from the school. H
ow do you know nobody was watching?”

  Sophia looked up to where the school sat. Any number of students, or the teachers, could have seen them.

  “Sophia, I thought at least you would have known better.”

  Rosemary glanced at Sophia. “She did try and stop us. We thought she was just being overly cautious.”

  “Perhaps you should start listening to her more often.”

  “We will,” Rosemary and Eliza muttered, barely loud enough to be heard.

  “I want each of you to march back to Atwood Manor. Change your clothing so you aren’t chilled more than you already are. You will not leave your individual chambers until I give you permission to.”

  21

  How short a period often reverses the character of our sentiments, rendering that which yesterday we despised, to-day desirable. The tranquil state which she had so lately delighted

  to quite, she now reflected upon with regret.

  A Sicilian Romance

  Ann Radcliffe

  Natalie turned to Anton as soon as the girls could no longer be seen and she was confident that they were, for once, doing as they were told. “I was looking for the girls because they were late for their lesson. I was by the school, at the top of the cliff, when I saw you and Eliza in the water.” Just when she wanted to remain angry at him, Anton did something to further soften her heart. First Vanko told her what Anton had endured in prison and now Anton saved Eliza from a certain death. She wanted to remain angry, but everyone else was making it blasted difficult.

  His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Yet, you didn’t come down.”

  “By the time I reached the top of the stairs you had them by the fire. I could tell you were angry.”

  “I am not sure if I was more scared or angry at that point,” he admitted with a shrug.

  “I was going to come down, but I wanted to see what you were going to do.”

  Once again he looked at her in confusion.

  “I have lectured those girls so many times I don’t think they hear me any longer.”

  Anton nodded and placed another log on the fire before settling into the sand.

  Natalie sank to her knees beside him. The fire was warm and the sun bright. It was as if only the two of them existed. “I thought the scare of one of them nearly drowning and your yelling at them was what they needed for them to start thinking about their actions.”

  A smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Do you think it did any good?”

  “I would like to think so, but I am not holding out any hope,” she grudgingly admitted.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Do?” Did he mean about him? She didn’t yet know. Vanko had given her a lot to think on but could she trust Anton with her heart once again?

  “The girls.”

  Of course he meant the girls. Her face heated. “I am not sure. At the moment I am too upset to think clearly. I am afraid I will have them sequestered to their individual rooms for a month with only tea and bread.”

  Anton chuckled. “You aren’t as cruel as that, but I understand the punishment.”

  “I will have to wait until I can think matters through. I am sure the other teachers will have a few suggestions.”

  He reached over and clasped her hand.

  The wise thing would be to snatch it away, but it was so warm and strong and gave her comfort. She had still not calmed from seeing Eliza disappear under the waves and being too far away to help her.

  “Were you like that, Natasha? Did you, Lady Atwood and Miss Morris get into trouble when you were students?”

  Heat infused her cheeks. She was sure she and her friends had given Mrs. Wiggons a few heart palpitations. “Nothing as dangerous as those three.”

  He quirked his lips.

  “We may have been adventurous, but we never did anything dangerous,” Natalie defended.

  He chuckled.

  “What of you and my brother?”

  “We didn’t always behave, but anything we did was minor, if not boring, in comparison to those three.” Anton chuckled.

  “For some reason I don’t believe you,” Natalie teased. “The two of you did become spies. That is not something someone who has boring adventures aspires to.”

  He chuckled again. “We did get quite good a sneaking into our professor’s rooms in search of tests prior to examinations.”

  “A skill you perfected to become the Ghost.” He could appear and disappear so much like the apparition he named himself for.

  His smile disappeared. “It was necessary.”

  As much as she wished it had been someone else, Natalie did admire Anton’s dedication and the sacrifice he had made, even if it was to benefit England and not Russia. If Czar Paul had not broken from a decade’s alliance with England and sided with Napoleon, Anton and she might have married openly and have been settled in Sankt Peterburg. He would not have had a need to turn against his own country.

  He grasped her hand tighter and turned toward her. “What of us, Natasha?”

  She wished she knew the answer to his question, but she still was not sure. Her love for him had not died, yet he was not the man she married. Prison had hardened him and it scared her of what he was capable of.

  He studied her as if waiting for the answer. One she didn’t have. When she said nothing, he lowered his mouth to hers. His lips were warm and firm. She parted hers and he delved. It would be so easy to sink into his arms and remain there forever. Tears pricked the back of her eyelids as she was overcome with waves of love accompanied by pain.

  He leaned further, a hand at her back as he lowered her to the sand.

  She couldn’t do this. She was so weak where Anton was concerned and it was too soon. Natalie pushed against his chest. “I can’t.” She rolled away and came to her feet. “It is too soon. Give me time.”

  With that she turned and ran toward the stairs. Would there ever be enough time to reckon her heart with her head? Which should she follow?

  Anton watched Natalie run up the stairs and disappear over the cliff. He had to win her back. Somehow he must. He would grovel if necessary but feared that would only push her away instead of bring her close.

  He stood and brushed the sand from his damp trousers. The fire was burning low. There was no fear of it spreading. Sand surrounded it and on one side were stone cliffs and the other the ocean. He turned his back on the slight flames and marched to the cave. He had days before Lord Hopkins was scheduled to arrive and if he were wise, he would use that time to win his wife.

  Vanko was in the kitchen, stirring something on the stove, when he entered. They needed to hire a cook and servants. Eventually, he would get around to that task. In truth, he hoped it was Natasha who would be by his side as they went about making this a home and seeing it renovated. Doing so alone was no longer appealing.

  His friend studied him, a question in his eyes. Anton was dirty from working in the cellar and then drenched from going into the sea. He only shook his head and walked away. He wasn’t up to an explanation at the moment.

  Alone in his chamber, he pulled off his soaked boots and discarded the damp trousers and searched for dry, clean clothing.

  He would court her as he had in Russia. It had worked before. The problem lay in that they had been in Sankt Peterburg, where there were many entertainments he could take her to. In this town there was little to do. Besides, she now resided at Atwood’s estate, to be protected from him.

  Dressed in fresh clothing, Anton returned to the lower level of the manor and stopped inside the foyer.

  Vanko came from the dining room. “What is on your mind?”

  “Do you really need to ask?”

  “Give her time,” he insisted. “She will return to you.”

  Anton wasn’t so certain, but he would do his best to get her back if it was the last thing he did. “I’m going for a walk.” He strode out of the house.

  Though it was not his intention when he started out, Anton found
himself on the path that led to Atwood’s estate. When he emerged onto the lawn he stared up at the Gothic manor. He couldn’t go to Natasha now. They had parted only a short time ago and she had asked for time. She would not appreciate him calling on her so soon, but how could he stay away?

  Movement at the side of the manor drew his attention. There was his love, in the gardens and on her knees. What was she doing?

  He continued in her direction. He couldn’t make out the words, but Natasha was muttering to herself as she yanked young plants from the ground and tossed them in a growing pile beside her. Surely, Atwood was not making her doing menial labor. He would have a word with the lord if that were the case.

  It was bad enough she was reduced to teaching, but this was beyond the pale. She should be pampered, loved and waited on. Not working in the garden like a lowly servant.

  “Natasha,” he called when he was close enough. “What is the meaning of this?”

  She blinked up at him. “Anton, what are you doing here?”

  He stopped before her, fists planted on his hips. “That is not what is important. What is the meaning of this?” He gestured to the discarded plants on the ground.

  Her eyebrows drew together. “I am weeding the flower beds.”

  “Is he making you?”

  Natasha pushed herself up and slowly came to her feet, a look of confusion across her features. “Who?”

  “Atwood!” Anton blew out a breath. “Is he making you work to stay here?”

  A smile burst on her face before she laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She bent to scoop the discarded plants, which he now realized were weeds. He hadn’t paid close attention to what she was doing until now, other than they were green, leafy plants.

  “Ridiculous!” He was not being ridiculous. Natasha was a lady and should not be doing menial tasks.