Michael reached over and grabbed Elizabeth’s hand just as Phoebe delivered a sharp jab to Benjamin’s ribs.
“What? Have I said something wrong?”
“We will come back in good time, Ben.”
“They are still newlyweds, Benjamin,” Katherine added.
While they still acted like newlyweds as far as Ben could tell, they technically were not newlyweds anymore. “Well, it would be nice to all sit down as a family again, that’s all.”
“Perhaps at Christmas,” Elizabeth said. “We haven’t seen my family in quite some time, either.”
There were many satisfied smiles passed around the table. Having everyone home for Christmas would be remarkable.
When the meal was done, the women retired to the parlor while the men stayed behind for cigars and scotch. But after a short while, the gentlemen decided they ought to join the women. They had cake, after all.
Michael led the way back to the parlor but stopped short just before the door.
“What’s the matter?” Ben asked his brother.
Michael turned slightly and put a finger to his lips to shush them. Clearly there was something he wanted them to hear.
“No, no, you needn’t worry, ladies,” Elizabeth was saying. “Truly, we haven’t had any visitors in quite some time. Why would they come now?”
“Perhaps they are here, and they’re just leaving you be,” Katherine replied.
“Yes, but now that you’ve invited strangers in you may anger them.” Phoebe finished the train of Katherine’s thoughts.
“Oh, dear!” Katherine’s voice sounded slightly panicked.
“Ladies, please!” Elizabeth said, clearly a bit exasperated. “There are no ghosts here. Let us turn to more pleasant topics, shall we?”
As the women turned to the aforementioned pleasant topics, Michael made quick waving motions, indicating that they should go back to the dining room. A smile cracked Benjamin’s lips. It had been too long since they’d played a prank on their sister.
***
“If you don’t believe me, I’ll take you to the west wing tonight myself and prove to you that all is well.”
Phoebe looked at Katherine, who looked at her and then back to Elizabeth. “Is that really a good idea?” she asked.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea.” Katherine sat forward, nearly breathless with excitement.
Elizabeth stared at her aghast. “I thought you were frightened.”
“I am,” Katherine said. “But my curiosity has won out of the fright.”
“We cannot tell our husbands,” Phoebe put in. “Benjamin would never let me go to the west wing alone, but I’m certain he’s even more frightened of this place than we are.”
“Why do you say that?” Katherine asked.
Phoebe rolled her eyes. “It took days of convincing to get him to agree to the trip, then he told me ghost stories all the way here. I’m sure he was half-hoping to scare me so I would ask to go home.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Well, that’s just plain silly.”
Katherine’s eyes narrowed slightly, giving Phoebe pause. “What is it, Kat?”
“He was never frightened when we visited Dunbocan as children. Even with Mother in hysterics over the ghost, Ben was always stalwart, very composed and rational. He never really believed that the ghost existed at all.”
Phoebe stared at her sister-in-law, dumbfounded. “Then why would he act so afraid now?”
“I think I know exactly why,” Katherine said. “He was trying to spook you, the scoundrel. And I know just how to get him back.”
***
Later that evening, after they’d all eaten their fill of cake and played all the parlor games they knew of, it was finally time to retire. Or so the gentlemen thought. The ladies, of course, had other plans.
Phoebe yawned loudly and stood to stretch in an obvious show of exhaustion. “I think I am ready to retire, dearest,” she said. “Will you join me?”
Benjamin passed a look to his brother, then William. He opened his mouth to speak, but it was Michael who answered.
“Actually, might I borrow Ben and Will for one more scotch in my study before bed?”
“Oh.” Phoebe looked to Katherine. This wasn’t part of their plan. They needed the men to go to sleep first so they could sneak out of their rooms and “wake the ghosts.”
“It’s all right.” Elizabeth rushed to her side. “I will see you and Katherine to your rooms.”
“You’re sure you won’t be afraid, my dear?” Will asked of Katherine.
Katherine laughed and brushed him off with a wave of her hand. “Don’t be silly, William. I’m quite familiar with the house and all its inhabitants. I will be fine.”
Phoebe kissed her husband goodnight and then followed Elizabeth and Katherine through the parlor doors into the corridor. They didn’t speak until they were safely upstairs and out of earshot.
“What shall we do now?” Phoebe asked, praying one of them had a plan.
“We go now to the west wing to prepare,” Katherine said, moving in closer to them and lowering her voice. “We’ll be back in our beds before they make it upstairs, I’m certain. Then we’ll follow through with the original plan.”
Phoebe had her doubts. What if the men didn’t take as long as Kat expected them to? What if they caught them preparing their elaborate apparition?
Phoebe couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled in her throat. They were taking this so seriously—as if life and limb depended on this prank going well—when in reality they were simply having a bit of fun.
Elizabeth turned her determined nose toward the staircase to the west wing, leading them onward. It was cooler in this part of the house, and darker. Much darker. An unpreventable shiver ran down Phoebe’s spine, but she forced herself to remember that the only ghosts in this house—according to Elizabeth, at least—were the three of them.
They reached a door at the far end of the corridor and Elizabeth pushed it open. There was only a sliver of moon tonight, so even the large windows couldn’t help to illuminate the space. Phoebe could see, however, that the furniture had been covered in white cloth, which made her wonder how they would even identify a ghost were there one in this particular room.
Elizabeth began pulling the white coverings from a sofa and two chairs. “These will go over our heads,” she explained. “Here—” She threw one at Phoebe— “try it on so I can see if it looks realistic.”
Phoebe threw the covering over her head and began to moan.
“Oh, good heavens!” Katherine exclaimed, and then Elizabeth shushed her. “Sorry. It’s just it does look rather frightening here in the dark.”
“Brilliant!”
They set the sheets aside, and then left the room, eager to get back to their chambers before the men did. However, the three of them froze in the middle of the corridor when they saw a flash of light at the other end.
“Wh—what is that?” Phoebe asked, huddling closer to Elizabeth. It wasn’t a candle, that was for certain.
“I don’t know,” Elizabeth hissed back. It wasn’t terribly comforting that she—the one who was so certain earlier that there were no ghosts in residence—was rigid with fear.
The light flashed again, and this time Katherine moved closer, grabbing onto Phoebe’s arm. They stood in their little huddle, awaiting instruction from their fearless leader…or rather, their fearful leader. Either way, she was their leader.
But then they heard it—the telltale male voice coming from the other end of the hallway.
Katherine gasped. “That’s William!”
His voice was followed by those of Benjamin and Michael. The rascals. Clearly, they meant to play tricks on them! How dare they? What if one of them had fainted of fright?
Elizabeth silenced them with a look and then pushed them both back towards the room where their ghostly drapes awaited them. Without a word, she handed each of them a sheet then threw her own over her head. Phoebe and Katherine fol
lowed suit, and then positioned themselves throughout the room.
Katherine was the first to make a sound, and Phoebe wanted to laugh at the absurdity of all this. Here they were, grown men and women of the ton, playing children’s games with one another.
It wasn’t long before they drew the attention of the men. Their whispers could be heard from the hallway, and then one of them slammed the door open with a loud thud.
“Who is in here?” Michael called out. “Show yourself!”
Phoebe was rather proud that they had clearly spooked the gentlemen. Michael sounded positively terrified.
Across the room, Elizabeth began to moan. Katherine followed suit and then so did Phoebe, though it wasn’t easy since she was about to burst into laughter.
“Michael.” Benjamin’s voice was shaky, as if he were truly frightened.
“Yes, I see them,” Michael replied. “But I shan’t let them take over my house again! Never again! Give me that.”
“Michael, they are ghosts,” William said emphatically. “Throwing candlesticks at them will do no good.”
“Nonetheless, I must try everything I have at my disposal!”
Oh, God!
All three of them, Phoebe included, ripped off their sheets and shouted, “No!” “Don’t!” “It’s us!” all at the same time.
***
Benjamin could hardly contain his laughter. As a matter of fact, he didn’t contain it at all. Neither did Michael or William—they all nearly rolled on the floor with their mirth.
“You blackguards!” shouted Katherine. “I nearly expired of fright.”
“Oh, really?” William retorted between snorts. “How ironic.”
“How did you know it was us?” Elizabeth fumbled her way through the room, and Phoebe followed.
“You forget, my love,” said Michael, “that I have actually seen the ghosts in this house, and none of them was wearing a furniture covering.”
Phoebe finally made her way to Benjamin’s side, and a smile tugged at her lips. “Did you know all along?” she asked him.
Benjamin gathered his faculties before gathering Phoebe in his arms. “Not all along,” he replied. “But long enough…are you angry?”
Phoebe broke into laughter herself and threw her arms around Benjamin. “Are you?”
“Not in the least.” He kissed the top of her head, and then whispered, “Now, how do you feel about making love to me in a haunted house?”
His wife looked up at him with a mischievous grin. “Well, as long as it’s just you and not the ghosts, I’m rather excited by the idea.”
***
A week later, they boarded their carriage once again, bound for home this time. Phoebe was partly sad to leave. She loved Elizabeth like a sister, and the poor thing was up here all alone with very few friends and no family to keep her company.
But Elizabeth claimed she was happy, and so who was Phoebe to judge? Besides, she had her own family to think about. She missed Charlotte and Matthew tremendously, and while she trusted her friends implicitly with the lives of her children, she still wondered and worried about how all of them were getting on.
She turned to Benjamin. He stared out the window of the carriage at the quickly disappearing image of Dunbocan.
“It really is a magical place, isn’t it?” she said, sidling up to him and forcing him to put his arm around her.
Benjamin gave her a dubious look. “Don’t you mean haunted?”
Phoebe laughed and shook her head. “No, magical.”
“Just like our love?”
She couldn’t prevent the wide smile that came to her lips. Benjamin may have been half-joking, but only half. There truly was something magical about the love they shared.
“Yes,” she replied, putting all joking aside and planting a kiss on her husband’s lips. “Just like our love.”
THE END…AGAIN!
More than a Governess
The Second Epilogue
Jerrica Knight-Catania
Smashwords Edition
This book is a work of fiction.
Names, characters, locations and events are either a product of the
author’s imagination, fictitious or used fictitiously.
Any resemblance to any event, locale or person,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.
More than a Governess, 2nd Epilogue
Copyright 2011 by Jerrica Knight-Catania
Smashwords Edition
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or part in any format.
Cover design by Jerrica Knight-Catania
The long-awaited honeymoon…
Venice, Italy
“I don’t know how on earth my husband will ever recognize me, Signorina.” Rebecca Christie, Viscountess Hastings, stared at herself in the mirror. At least, she thought she was staring at herself. It was hard to tell underneath all the purple fluff and nonsense.
“But that is the point, after all, Signora.” Maria, the youngest daughter of their gracious hosts, beamed at her. “You look magnifico!”
“But you can’t even see me!” Becky protested. The echo of her voice inside of the mask was a bit off-putting. She had no idea how loud she sounded to those on the outside.
Maria giggled. “You will get used to it, Signora.”
Becky couldn’t imagine she would ever get used to wearing so many layers of clothing, including a headdress that covered her entire head all the way down to her elbows. “It’s rather warm, isn’t it?”
“But it is winter, Signora.”
“Not in a crowded ballroom,” Becky said.
“Something we endure for the sake of Carnevale.”
“I can imagine enduring such a thing for, say, the sake of one’s children, or to save the life of a sister. But good heavens! For the sake of a party? It seems a bit extreme. Is there nothing else I can wear, Maria?”
There was a pause and then, “This is all I could find on such short notice.” Maria’s voice sounded a bit strained, as if she might cry.
Goodness, Becky hadn’t meant to insult her. “Well,” she said, turning this way and that before the mirror. “I suppose I do look rather…dramatic.”
“Ah, si! Dramatic.” The breathless excitement returned immediately to Maria’s tone.
“But what will you wear?” Becky wondered, as she pulled the mask and headdress off and placed them carefully on the bed.
“I am not yet allowed to go to the Carnevale ball.” Maria sighed and plopped onto the red, tufted chair. “Mother and Father will not allow it until I gain seventeen years. It is law in this house. I thought for certain that Gabriella would throw herself into the canal, she was so distraught at having to wait. But Mother and Father held firm.”
“Your sister married well, did she not?”
“Si. A conte. Though I believe you might call him an earl in your country.”
“Well, then, perhaps patience is a virtue, after all,” Becky said.
“Not always. Isabella was not nearly as fortunate.” Maria’s nose wrinkled. “She married a pescatore of all people!”
Becky laughed. “A fisherman? At least she will never go hungry,” she teased.
“I would rather starve than go to bed with a man smelling of pesce.”
Bed? “How on earth do you know of such things as going to bed with a man?”
“I am not a child, Signora.” Maria raised her chin a bit, but then couldn’t prevent the sly smile that tipped the corners of her lips. “And I may have—how do you say udiste?”
Of all words in the Italian language, Becky was most familiar with this one. She used it often to refer to her dear friend, Katherine, Duchess of Weston. “Eavesdropped.”
“Yes. Eavesdropped—” she repeated in a thick accent “—on my sisters. Mio Dio! The things they talk about.” Color rushed to Maria’s cheeks.
Becky’s too, for that matter. Her friends were much more accustomed to talking openly about such thing
s, but she preferred to hold her silence. What happened in the bedchamber with her husband stayed in the bedchamber.
Oh, good heavens. What would she do when her own children became of age? She would have to tell Lydia and Clarabelle what to expect, but where did one draw the line?
Thankfully, Max and Nicholas would learn from Stephen what was expected of them in the—
She shook her head, unwilling to think that far into the future. They had many, many years before they would have to deal with the topic. At least, she prayed that would be the case. Max was almost finished at Eton—it wouldn’t be long before he went off to Oxford where he would surely be under the influence of other boys. Though he wasn’t their son in the true sense of the word, Becky loved him as if he were. And the one thing she feared the most for her well-mannered nephew was the influence of other boys.
“Signora?”
Becky snapped back to the present to find Maria staring at her, concern in her exotic brown eyes. “I’m sorry, Maria,” she said, and then eagerly changed the subject. “Well, I think the costume is perfect. If nothing else, it shall be entertaining to watch my husband as he tries to pick me out of the crowd.” Becky just hoped he didn’t take too long to find her. This was their honeymoon, after all. She didn’t want to spend the entire evening separated from him.
“How did you and your husband fall in love?” Maria asked, causing Becky to sputter a little.
“Ah, well…we—that is to say, I…I was—” Oh, dear. The circumstances of their relationship were not at all appropriate to tell a young woman like Maria.
“Have you forgotten?” the girl wondered. Becky was tempted to answer in the affirmative.
“No, certainly not forgotten.” She took a deep breath. “I was a governess in Lord Hastings’s household, and…well, we fell in love.”
“At first sight?”
“Not exactly,” Becky said, remembering how much she and Stephen had despised one another when they’d first met. “But soon after.” After Stephen had stopped acting like a complete boor and came to appreciate Becky and the work she was trying to accomplish with the children.
The Wetherby Brides: Second Epilogues Page 2