A Lady in Disguise

by Cynthia Bailey Pratt

  “Vanished, miss? Her ladyship will be most displeased, I fear.”

  “Nevertheless—Lady Pritchard may be injured. We’ll have to search for her. Do you return to the house and call out the other servants. The castle will have to be searched. And you better inform Mr. Everard. He’ll want to know immediately.” She wished fervently that he were here and determined to tell him everything the moment she saw him again. Never again would she be forced into untenable positions by another’s threats, let Thorpe think of her what he would.

  “Very good, miss. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind telling her ladyship for me. She’s likely to be most displeased with me for failing to arrive before the baroness disappeared.”

  “I don’t see how it is your fault. I shall tell Lady Genevieve so.”

  “Thank you, miss.” He’d pulled off the sheet and stood exposed in his natural butler’s attire, though his hair was more tousled than was strictly proper. “Er, if you wouldn’t mind going first with that lantern? These rooms, I don’t know what it is, but they seem darker than they are.”

  * * * *

  Informed of developments. Lady Genevieve, her head swathed in a great sleeping turban, nodded and said, “Have the servants been organized to search for her? Excellent. They shan’t fare too well, I imagine, at least not until dawn. But it makes for excitement. I sometimes fear they will all leave us, for there is no doubt the castle is very dull.”

  “I have not found it so, my lady. What will you do now?”

  “I? Why, return to my rest. Does Thorpe know?” Lillian said she’d told Mr. Becksnaff to wake him. “You think of everything, my dear. Oh, Miss Canfield? I have another gift for you, one which I hope you will find as inspirational as I have.” She reached toward a dressing table that stood near her bed. Finding the floor chilly, she had returned to bed as soon as she’d let Lillian in. “Here you are.”

  “A book?” It was bound in a dark blue cloth, with leather tips on all the corners. She opened it to the title page. “ ‘Being a Diverse account of various Hauntings, so-called ghosts, and tales of mysteries from all corners of these islands. By a Reverend Gentleman.’ “ Lillian turned a look of amazement on the old woman. “Do you mean to say ... ?”

  “Don’t read it now; there’s a good girl. Keep it for those nights when you cannot sleep. I declare it has done me a power of good. Pray extinguish the candles as you leave. I’m rather tired and would fain sleep awhile.” Lady Genevieve let her cheek fall onto her pillow and closed her eyes.

  In disgust at this blatant piece of acting which neither Addy nor Becksnaff’s brother would have dared to indulge in, Lillian said nothing more but did as she was bid. She let the door slam behind her and, no doubt, would have felt guilty at this bad behavior had she not chanced to hear Lady Genevieve chortling behind the door.

  Feeling very much put-upon, Lillian shoved the small blue book into the pocket of her cloak. She let the front door of the castle close behind her with an even more satisfactory bang than she’d achieved with Lady Genevieve’s. Now all that remained was to find Paulina and restore her to Mottisbury Castle. Then, Lillian promised herself, she would depart, leaving the master, his daughter, his servants and, above all, his grandmother to Paulina’s gentle affections. As for her own feelings, she would root them out of her heart if it took a return voyage to India to do it.

  Her head bowed with determination, Lillian rushed forward. She ran immediately into something like a sofa cushion, only taller. The lantern fell and broke on the pavement. Hands came up to steady her, even as a male voice said, “Oooof! What in the name of the old man goes on here?” The voice, timbre and rhythm were as familiar to her as her own.

  “Father?”

  “Lillian? Is that you, my girl? Now that’s a thing I never expected. Did you come here with Paulina? Lady Pritchard, that is. The sly minx would only say she’s going on a trip; she never said a word about you going with her.”

  In the midst of her pleasure in seeing him again, a dreadful suspicion sprang up, fully armed, from Lillian’s head. What had Paulina said about her importunate older suitor? “Father, how well do you know Paulina?”

  “Well enough to be sure of a warm welcome when I greet her in the morning. Women like little surprises like that, don’t they, my dear?”

  “She didn’t know you were coming here, then?”

  “No, indeed. I had to bribe her servants to tell me where she’d gone... and a pretty penny it cost me, too. Thieving wretches. But I don’t count the cost if it brings me nearer to kissing her dear hand again. I can hardly wait for morning.”

  “How ever did you meet Paulina?”

  “You forget, we met years ago at that school of yours. I had no notion she’d grown into such a taking little creature until I went down to her house.” Mr. Canfield coughed. “Fact is, my girl, I... well, dash it... I missed you. We did not part on the best of terms, you know.”

  Moved, Lillian squeezed her father’s arm. “I was not truly angry, Father.”

  “ ‘Course not. You were disappointed, same as me. But the baroness made me see you were right not to marry that earl.”

  “She did? How?”

  “I don’t know exactly. She’s got a very persuading way with her. Mayhap you’ve not noticed, being female yourself.”

  “Oh, I’ve noticed.” Lillian thought her father sounded very unlike himself. “Father, have you proposed to her?”

  “Aye, several times. But she’d never have me, though something in her eye tells me she don’t find me all that old! I’m hoping this visit, being romantic and all, will bring her around. You’re not the only one to find a title to marry, my fine lady! But I mean to keep mine.”

  “If you can find her...”

  “Eh? What’s that you said?”

  Briefly, Lillian explained. She tried to be careful and to leave out the reason for this strange adventure, for fear of bruising her father’s heart. As a result, she and Paulina appeared to be a pair of feather-wits, irresponsibly avid for a new sensation.

  With his gift for finding the flaw in any proposition, Mr. Canfield said, “That doesn’t sound like you, Lillian, but I imagine my saucy pet brought you ‘round to it. What a merchant she’d have made, if she’d been born to it as I was! Though I doubt she’d be pleased to be told so.”

  Lillian thought that Paulina would be pleased enough by the compliment, if a costly enough diadem accompanied it. She muttered some vague words in reply.

  Mr. Canfield continued, “ 'Tis a pity you had to leave her, but I see that your first duty was to the child. Well, come on, girl, you’d best show me to this castle so I can help with looking for her.”

  Reluctantly, Lillian began to walk on. “But aren’t you tired, Father? It’s a long way here from Paulina’s. Wouldn’t you rather rest?”

  “Rest? Not a bit of it. I rode on that horse I bought just before you left me. Best purchase I ever made! A gait as easy as a feather bed. I’m not at all tired. Besides, I must be the one to find her. Just imagine it. That’s what I call romance!”

  When Lillian and Mr. Canfield reached the castle, the servants were milling about with apparently no very clear idea of how to begin searching for Paulina. Even Becksnaff seemed at a loss. Lillian, who had always respected her father for his acumen, now saw him as a leader of men.

  “All right now,” he said, swelling his chest so his voice reached even the ears of a group of gossiping, giggling maids. “A lovely lady, known to you all, is somewhere in this ruin. She may be hurt or in a faint or otherwise unable to hear us calling or to respond. So we’ve got to search every inch! Now, we’re going to need more light. You lot, over there, go back to the house and gather up every candle or lantern you can lay hands on. Torches, even. Meanwhile, the rest of us’ll split into groups. I don’t want anybody wandering around alone; the last thing we need is to look for somebody else!” That raised a chuckle. “Lastly, I want to say that to whoever finds Lady Pritchard I will with my own hands give ‘em fif
ty guineas.” That raised a cheer.

  * * * *

  A little while later, Lillian reflected that it was not so much her father’s golden promises that had put heart into the workers as his very presence. He seemed to be everywhere, urging laggards on to greater efforts, restraining the overeager from charging off alone, and encouraging the weary.

  “She just doesn’t seem to be anywhere. It’s as though she turned into mist and blew away.”

  “I don’t understand it myself,” Lillian said, thrusting her hands into the pocket of her cloak. The book Lady Genevieve had given her knocked against her knuckles. “But you’ll find her.”

  Though she’d had little time to consider what having Paulina Pritchard as a stepmama would be like, Lillian decided at that moment that if such a marriage would make her father happy, she would support it fully. Even such a sacrifice would be better than looking any more at her father’s slumping shoulders.

  When the master of Mottisbury Castle came, she ran to him. “Oh, Thorpe! We can’t find her anywhere!”

  He closed his warm hand over hers where it clutched his sleeve. “What’s all this? Becksnaff wakes me and sounds as if he’s lost his mind, and now.. .” His eyes reflected the torches’ leaping flames as he looked about the inner bailey.

  “Whatever Becksnaff said is true, I’m afraid. Paulina and I went into the castle. Addy came and I had to take her back to her room. When I returned, Paulina was gone.”

  “You went in the castle with Paulina. Of her, I can believe such bubble tricks, but of you? Why did you do it?”

  “I. ..” Lillian found she could no more tell the truth to Thorpe than to her father. How did one tell a man that some woman believed a night with a ghost would win her him as a husband? Lamely, she said, “Lady Genevieve said it would be permissible.”

  He nodded. “I should have discerned her hand in this. She hasn’t tried to order my life for a month and a half at least.” Thorpe patted Lillian’s hand. “I shall question Grandmother first. If she cannot—or will not—tell me where Lady Pritchard is, there are places in the castle even Becksnaff knows nothing of. Perhaps somehow Lady Pritchard stumbled onto one of these secret passages.”

  “What’s that you say?” Mr. Canfield crossed the bailey to stand, fists on hips, in front of Thorpe and Lillian. Realizing she still grasped Thorpe’s arm, she let her fingers slide from beneath his. Yet, he did not release her hand, but re-entwined his fingers with hers. A warm tide of emotion ran right up her arm into her heart.

  “I beg your pardon,” Thorpe said, “but have I met you?”

  “I’m Jacob Canfield, this young lady’s father, and the betrothed of Baroness Pritchard. Are you Mr. Thorpe Everard?”

  “That’s right. I’m pleased to meet you at last in reality, Mr. Canfield.”

  “Aye. Was that last shipment to your satisfaction, sir?”

  “Quite. The silk was particularly fine. I sent some as a gift to a distant aunt, and she couldn’t thank me enough. And I know my housekeeper—have you met Mrs. Becksnaff?—was exceptionally pleased by the spices. The brass statues I—”

  “You know each other?” Lillian asked, looking between them in disbelief. Had Thorpe not heard, or failed to comprehend, that her father stood before him?

  “Why, yes,” Thorpe answered. “He’s the friend in the City who sends me amusing things from the East. You recall that banyan you wore the first evening you came to us? He sent the silk.” He looked again at Mr. Canfield. “May I offer my congratulations on your betrothal, Mr. Canfield? Lady Pritchard is a fine woman.”

  “I think so. Now, you were saying something about secret passages?”

  “Yes. The castle is riddled with them, some of which I don’t even know of. Most, however, were shown to me by my father, as places of refuge in time of trouble.”

  “Ah, Luddites,” Mr. Canfield said, nodding sagely.

  “Something like that. I will go and speak to my grandmother and then join you.”

  “What’d you want to do that for? Stands to reason a sweet old lady wouldn’t know anything about this matter . .. unless you’re thinking she might know more about this castle than you do.”

  “No. But she may know more about Lady Pritchard’s sudden disappearance.”

  Mr. Canfield’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. Thorpe gave Lillian’s fingers a squeeze before letting them go. As he turned and walked away, Mr. Canfield stooped and picked something up from the grass.

  “Hoy, Everard!” he said, sprinting forward. Lillian held out her hand to restrain him, for she’d seen the outline of a certain book in her father’s hand, but it was too late. Mr. Canfield was already handing it over to Thorpe. Hoping against hope, Lillian put her hand to her cloak pocket. The book. Diverse Hauntings, was gone.

  She sat down on the steps of the curtain wall to await Thorpe’s return. When he came back, his strides were quick. Though he stopped quite close to her, he did not seem to notice she was near. He said something which she could not at first make out. Rising, Lillian came closer to him, slipping her hand into his once again. It felt entirely natural to do it.

  “What are you saying?” she asked when he looked down at her.

  Thorpe cleared his throat. “When I’m angry—” he began. “My father once told me that it’s easier to be calm if you have something special to say to yourself. It’s rather like counting to ten until you feel better.”

  “Oh, do you do that too?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Thorpe was looking at her steadily now, as if he’d never seen her before.

  Lillian smiled and said rapidly, “ ‘Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.’ Sometimes I have to say it three or four times. My governess made me write it out again and again I’m afraid she left me anyway. But I found myself repeating it often while I was at school. I’ve a simply dreadful temper.”

  “I’ve never seen evidence of it.”

  Lillian blushed by firelight. “Then you can see how well it works. I’ve been saying it rather a lot lately.”

  “Mine goes, ‘Surely every man walketh in a vain show: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.’ My father always said that, when Grandmother made him angry.” He frowned as if remembering. “She declares she knows nothing about Paulina’s disappearance. I may have let her see that I didn’t believe her.”

  “I believe her. She may have wanted to frighten Paulina away from you—”

  “Yes, she confessed that.” He tossed something onto the step. The blue-backed book absorbed the light. “She told me everything. Even about the so-called curse. I’m glad to hear you didn’t believe in that.” Lillian almost admitted that she did, having been convinced by her own responses to him, but bit the words back in time. “I can’t understand, though, how you—as sane as you are—allowed Paulina to come out here.”

  So, Lillian thought. Grandmother has not confessed quite everything. “I was persuaded against my better judgment. Thorpe, didn’t you hear what—”

  “Listen here, Everard,” Mr. Canfield said, approaching.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “This castle of yours is more full of passages than a warren of ambitious rabbits! I pressed on those bricks like you told me and damn me if there ain’t another two halls going off into the dark! Those likely lads of yours are running down ‘em now. But I tell you straight. I’ll have her out of there if I must pull it down brick by brick!”

  “If it comes to that, I’ll help you gladly, Mr. Canfield. Lillian, go back to the house and rest. God knows how long tonight we’ll be at this. It must be near two o’clock already.” He peered at the sky.

  Lillian watched the two men who were dearest to her in the world walk off together. Rather than obey Thorpe, she sat again on the stairs, grateful for the thickness of her cloak. All the warmth of the earth and su
n seemed but dim legends from a time before the present Ice Age.

  She took up the book. By the light of the torch beside her, she began to read. The accounts of hauntings were as dry as Newton’s Principia Mathematica. Perhaps she was too tired to understand, but she could not determine whether the reverend gentleman’s interest lay in proving or in disproving the veracity of the tales. Soon, her head began to nod and droop.

  Lillian awoke with a start to find her head pillowed on something very warm that moved slightly, up and down. Looking up with bleared eyes, she saw Thorpe, no more awake than herself. “I only closed my eyes a moment,” she said defensively and then noticed that there was light in the sky.

  “Me, too,” he said, yawning. Then he sobered. “We haven’t found her yet, Lillian. There are passages below the castle where I am out of all knowledge. Places older than my father knew of, possibly going back to the earliest foundations of the castle. We found ... symbols.”

  Lillian shivered, and his arm tightened. She noticed that his coat was off, and it was the warmth of his shirt-clad body that was slowly seeping into her. His discarded coat lay beside him, coated with wax and reeking of oil. She lifted her eyes to his and, suddenly, shyness covered her with confusion. His smile held infinite tenderness as he held her more closely.

  “Lillian . . .” he said. “Ah, my dear.”

  She readied herself for his kiss, not caring that it was daylight and all who would could see. The night had been long, and the day was to be full of uncertainty, not least of all concerning his true feelings for her. But a kiss is absolved of all doubts for the time it lasts. She said his name and saw his eyes close as their lips came together.

  “Mr. Everard, sir!” someone called in the eternal shade beneath the gateway.

  Thorpe turned away from her, trying to see. “Who is it?”

  “It’s me, sir. Jack Price! You better come quick, sir!”

  Thorpe leapt up and half ran across the grass, his long legs scissoring. Lillian scurried along behind. “What is it?” she panted on reaching the gate. “Have you found her?”