Spirited Brides

by Amanda McCabe

  Pure, perfect joy, unlike any she had felt since the night of that long-ago ball, burst through her. She flung her arms around him, sobbing against his neck.

  “Mother!” he said, startled. “Are you not happy?”

  “I am beyond happy! All my prayers are answered, my dear Phillip. I am to have a daughter at last!”

  If either of them had looked up to the portrait of Edward Leighton that hung on the wall, they might have noticed a suspicious brightness about the painted blue eyes. But the sparkle turned back to matte emptiness before they even quit laughing.

  “What do you think about my new coiffure, Antoinette?” Cassie asked, twisting about to examine her reflection in the dressing table mirror. Long, carefully formed dark curls bounced and danced over her shoulders. “I think it may be a bit—silly.”

  “Not at all!” Antoinette answered, adjusting her own costume around her tall figure. She was dressed as Cleopatra, in long pleats of white muslin, cinched in at the waist with gold cord and with a collar of turquoise and coral beads over her shoulders. A gold headdress in the shape of a serpent sat atop her upswept hair. She looked exotic and regal. Cassie only wished she had thought of being Cleopatra first. “You are a shepherdess, Cassie. You are meant to look a bit silly.”

  Cassie wanted to be elegant, as Antoinette was. This was not a night for “silly”!

  Yet her happiness at the prospect of dancing with Phillip, as well as the announcement he wanted to make, overcame everything. She laughed, gave her curls one last shake, and went to take the dressmaker’s box containing her costume out of the wardrobe.

  She lifted the lid—and paused, puzzled. “Antoinette.”

  “Yes?” Antoinette said, fussing with her headdress.

  “This is not the costume the dressmaker delivered the other day, is it?”

  Antoinette came to peer over her shoulder. “Not at all! You tried it on, remember? It was not like that one bit. Is this a joke?”

  “I am not sure.” Cassie unfolded the costume in the box. It was assuredly not the blue-and-yellow shepherdess dress. The straw, ribbon-trimmed bonnet and the crook were missing, too.

  This was a gown in the style of the Restoration era, and, despite its obvious age, it was in beautiful condition. The pale blue satin was whole and un-faded, and the copious ruffles of white lace were only slightly yellowed. All the pearl beadwork on the bodice was intact.

  Cassie unfolded it, spreading it over her lap. It was the most beautiful gown she had ever seen.

  Antoinette reached out to touch some of the lace. “It looks like one of Louisa’s gowns.”

  “Why would she take my shepherdess costume away and leave this?” Whatever the ghost’s strange reasons, though, Cassie was glad she had done it. She would feel like a queen in this glorious satin.

  Antoinette shrugged. “Maybe she wishes she could dance at the ball tonight. Here, let me help you put it on.”

  It fit perfectly once Antoinette had tightened Cassie’s corset strings. The satin lay smooth against her, the ruffles frothing about her like the foam of the sea.

  Cassie took her mother’s pearl necklace out of the jewel case and clasped it around her throat. Now she felt absolutely perfect.

  “Is it time now, Lady Lettice? Is the ball starting?” Angelo said excitedly, dancing about the East Tower until the bells sewn on his doublet jangled.

  “Very nearly.” Lettice peered closely at herself in the mirror, straightening her headdress atop her upswept red hair. The solidifying spell had worked beautifully, and Sir Belvedere and Louisa were off on their last-minute errands. Her plan was falling carefully into place. She should be satisfied and excited.

  She felt nervous, though, and almost—almost afraid.

  Lettice had never been afraid in her life, or her death! But she was now. Fear hovered around the edges of her mind, and caused her high lace ruff to flutter with the force of her trembling.

  Angelo paused at her side, peering up at her with his wizened little face. “What is wrong, Lady Lettice?” he asked, tugging at her skirts.

  Lettice forced herself to smile carelessly. “Not a thing! Our plan is coming together.”

  Angelo smiled. “And soon we will be completely rid of Mr. Bates! Angelo can hardly wait.”

  Neither could Lettice. If she could just as easily rid herself of these fearful premonitions . . .

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “Remember, she is dressed as a shepherdess,” Mr. Bates hissed. He and his cousin sat in the darkened recesses of their carriage, parked out of sight just inside the gates of Royce Castle.

  For the first time, the languid Mr. Morland looked uncertain. He peered out the window as guests’ horses and carriages processed through the gates and up the drive. “Will there not be many shepherdesses there? Ladies seem dashed fond of that sort of thing.”

  “None of them will have hair like hers,” Mr. Bates muttered.

  “Are you certain this is a good idea, Paul?”

  Mr. Bates shot him a glare. “We have no choice! Are you turning coward on me now?”

  “Of course not! It is just . . .”

  “Just nothing. This is the plan. If you have no stomach for it, you can start walking back to our lodgings. And keep walking all the way to Jamaica. But don’t expect to have a home with me when you get there.”

  Mr. Morland lapsed back into silence.

  “Right,” said Mr. Bates. “Well, I am off, then. You wait here and keep an eye out for my signal.”

  He drew the hood of his domino up over his head and slipped out of the carriage, blending in with the stream of guests heading toward the castle. Soon, very soon, Miss Richards and Lord Royce would be deeply sorry they had crossed him.

  Cassie stood outside the ballroom doors, watching the dancers move through the patterns of the dance. Beneath the rich glow of the lights, they were a blur of many colors and many time periods. There were knights and their damsels, Harlequin and Columbine, Renaissance poets, Lucrezia Borgia, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn, Aphrodite, Marie Antoinette. And there were also several gentlemen who had obviously thought it beneath their dignity to wear a costume, and had appeared in evening dress and masks.

  The rich fabrics and the ladies’ jewels shimmered, and champagne sparkled in heavy crystal.

  Cassie’s foot tapped lightly to the bright music, and she felt a thrill of excitement as she examined the magical scene. It truly looked like a fairyland, an enchanted place. The perfect spot to announce her new happiness to all the world.

  If only she could see her would-be betrothed!

  She saw Antoinette-Cleopatra talking to the Lewishams over by the window, and Aunt Chat, in her deep green velvet Eleanor of Aquitaine gown, dancing. And Lady Royce was greeting her guests, looking magnificent in black satin and pearls as Queen Elizabeth.

  From the corner of her eye, Cassie saw a flash of white. She turned her head to watch as Lady Lettice, with Angelo close behind her, made her majestic way across the room. Obviously other people saw her, too, as they made way for her wide white silk skirts. She paused to speak with a cluster of guests, peering close at their masked faces as they talked. Then she looked at Angelo, shook her head, and continued on to the next group.

  Whatever was she about?

  Cassie did not have long to puzzle over Lady Lettice, though. A gentle hand touched one of the lace ruffles of her sleeve, and she looked over her shoulder.

  “Phillip!” she said happily, putting her arms around him in a quick embrace, after she ascertained that no one was paying any attention to them. “There you are. I couldn’t see anyone in there who looked the least bit like you.” She stepped back to examine his costume. “But why are you dressed like a monk, of all things?”

  His long brown robe covered him from the top of his hooded head to his feet. He glanced quickly around, then whispered, “This is not actually my costume.”

  Cassie was puzzled. “It isn’t? Then why are you wearing it?”

  “To cov
er up my real costume, of course.”

  “Don’t be silly! Let me see it.”

  “I think I would prefer to wear the robe.”

  Cassie laughed. “It is absolutely drab! And that fabric is scratchy. How can we dance if you keep scratching me?”

  “You are most persuasive, my dear. If I have to take it off in order to dance with you, then I shall.” He looked around once more, then loosened his rope belt and pulled the garment off.

  Beneath it, he wore the most amazing thing Cassie had ever seen. She clapped her hand to her mouth to hold her giggles in. They would not be contained, though; they burst forth in a merry torrent. “Oh, Phillip! You look—incredible.”

  His Greek chiton fell in white silk folds almost to his knees and was trimmed in gold embroidery worked in a Greek key pattern, and held in with a gold sash. The gold sandals on his feet laced up to meet the hem. Even behind his gold mask he looked most disgruntled.

  “Incredibly foolish, you mean,” he muttered, tugging the embroidered hem lower. “I never should have listened to my mother when she suggested I wear a Grecian costume.”

  “Not foolish at all,” Cassie said, going up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “You look very handsome. The most handsome gentleman at the ball, I would vow.”

  He smiled down at her. “And you are the most beautiful lady. This is an exquisite gown. But I thought you were meant to be a shepherdess.”

  Cassie preened for him in her blue satin. “I was, but someone took that costume and left this in its place.”

  “Someone?”

  “I suspect Louisa. This looks like one of her gowns.” She paused, remembering Lady Lettice and Angelo walking about the ballroom. “Speaking of ghosts . . .”

  Phillip gave a long-suffering sigh. “What about the ghosts? What mischief have they done now? I swear, my life was far easier before I believed in them.”

  “They have done no mischief that I know of—yet. But I just saw Lady Lettice and Angelo mingling among the guests. And where they are, Louisa and Sir Belvedere are sure to follow.”

  Phillip peered past her into the ballroom, his gaze searching through the company. His expression was wary and surprised. “The guests could see them, then?”

  Cassie took her white satin half mask out of her reticule and tied it over her face. “Oh, yes. She was talking to them and everything. You are not angry, are you?”

  Phillip laughed. “Of course not! Surprised, perhaps. I find it so strange and amazing that they have been a part of my life all these years and I am only now seeing them. But I would imagine they get rather bored. A masked ball is the perfect opportunity for them to get out; no one will think their clothes odd at all.”

  “Exactly! I am sure they are up to no mischief at all.” But Cassie bit her lip uncertainly.

  “I think my mother has seen us. Are you ready to go in?”

  “More than ready.”

  She took his arm, and swept into the ballroom to join the swirl of color, music, and excitement.

  Louisa twirled about in the middle of Cassie’s bedroom floor, enjoying the way her skirts belled out around her ankles. It had been decades since she had changed her gown, and the shepherdess costume was very different from her usual heavy satin and silk skirts. It was made of light muslin, with a yellow-and-blue-striped skirt, and a bodice and panniers of blue flowers on a yellow background.

  She straightened the blue satin bow at the low, square neckline and smoothed the ruffles of the elbow-length sleeves. It was very fortunate that she and Cassie were almost the same size, and that she was able to change clothes at all. She hadn’t been certain she could solidify, having never tried it before, but the spell Lady Lettice had taught her worked. But she knew that it would not last long, and that she would be very tired when it was all over.

  The dress looked quite fetching, and she was rather fond of the adorable little shepherd’s crook, with its cluster of blue and yellow ribbons. But the hair was all wrong. Louisa twisted one of her ringlets around her finger, examining its silvery-blond color. Cassie’s hair was as dark as night.

  She would just have to try to will it to change. She had never done that before, either. If solidifying would leave her exhausted, she had no idea what a change of hair color would do.

  Ah, well. There was only one way to find out. Louisa closed her eyes, clutched the ringlet tightly in her fist, and filled her mind with the color black.

  When she opened her eyes, the curl she held out was coal-colored. She pulled the thick mass of her hair over her shoulder, and saw that it had all turned brunette.

  “Oh, I am good!” she cried, doing a happy little dance.

  Lady Lettice came into the room then, opening the door and closing it behind her like a real human being. “Are you ready yet, Louisa? I think . . .” She paused, tilting her head back to examine Louisa. “Oh! You look just like Cassie with that dark hair.”

  “Thank you,” Louisa said, and reached for the yellow half mask with blue ribbons. “Is Mr. Bates here yet?”

  “Not at present. I looked at every guest in that ballroom, and none of them looked like Mr. Bates or his cousin. I left Angelo there to keep a sharp eye on things—if he can tear himself away from staring at the refreshments.” Lady Lettice peered into the dressing table mirror and straightened her jeweled headdress with its long white and silver veil.

  “I am ready,” Louisa said, picking up Cassie’s bonnet and the shepherd’s crook.

  “I do hope Mr. Bates appears soon. We can remain in this solid state for only a few hours.”

  “Oh, we will be done with this business long before that,” Louisa answered confidently. “We will even have time for dancing after!”

  “That is my costume!” Cassie whispered in Phillip’s ear as they waltzed around the dance floor. She looked over his shoulder at the edge of the ballroom, where a slender figure in a blue-and-yellow shepherdess costume stood. The figure waved the crook at Cassie, then turned and disappeared back into the crowd, dark curls bouncing.

  “Someone else is wearing your costume?” Phillip asked, spinning her jauntily around a corner.

  “The shepherdess one I told you about. I think it is Louisa, but she has black hair now. She looks just like me!”

  “Well, people do say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

  Cassie laughed. “Who says that?”

  “I am not sure. I think it was my mother, when she saw Lady Paige wearing a new bonnet in church that was almost exactly like her own.”

  She glanced once more over at where the shepherdess had stood, but she was quite gone. Cassie still thought it was very odd, but then she smiled up at Phillip and determined to concentrate on him, and him alone, for tonight. After all, this was their magical night, one they would tell their grandchildren about one day.

  And it was certainly proving memorable so far. The music, the laughter of the guests, and the wonderful sensation of twirling about in the dance with Phillip, conspired to create a glittering entertainment. Cassie could not seem to cease smiling.

  Yes, this was their night. Nothing, not even mischievous ghosts, could ruin it.

  Louisa moved through the crowd, reveling in the feeling of being at a ball again. Usually Royce Castle was so quiet, with only the other ghosts for company. In her life, Louisa had been so fond of parties, just like this one. She hummed along with the music as she walked, smiling at the other guests and eyeing the bubbling, golden champagne enviously. But being solid only went so far. It probably did not permit drinking.

  Even if it had, she needed to keep her wits about her if she was to foil Mr. Bates’ plan. She looked over at Lady Lettice, who shook her head slightly. No, Mr. Bates was not there yet. Then she turned to Sir Belvedere, who was talking with Cassie’s aunt. He also shook his head.

  Where could the villain be? Louisa frowned. If he did not appear soon, their plan would have to change. They could foil him in their usual forms, but it would be harder.

  She scanned
over the rest of the company, carefully scrutinizing every man’s disguise. A cardinal, a Louis XIV, a medieval prince, Shakespeare, a Cavalier . . .

  She paused and looked back at that last one. He was dressed as a Cavalier from her own lifetime, his blue satin and white lace a perfect coordinate to the gown she had given Cassie. His long, dark hair fell from beneath a wide-brimmed, plumed hat, which concealed his features.

  Then he turned his head and looked directly at her.

  “No!” Louisa gasped aloud, startling the people who stood beside her. “It cannot be.”

  She took one step toward him, but he vanished.

  And someone grabbed her shoulder from behind, pulling her away from the crowd. She twisted around to look, half-hoping, half-fearing . . .

  It was not him, though. It was Mr. Bates. He wore a hooded domino, yet it was still easy to see who it was. His eyes burned through the eyeholes of his mask, and his grip on her was strong and angry.

  Louisa longed to bash him on the head with her crook, but then she remembered she was meant to be Cassie, who had no idea about this plan. She put a look of confusion on her face and hoped her old skills at amateur theatricals had not left her.

  “What is this?” she said softly, with a quiver of fear in her voice. She remembered to keep it pitched low and soft to disguise it. She made her shoulders shake beneath his hands. It should be easy to lull this thickheaded man into thinking he had a poor, weak female in his grasp. He was the sort who always underestimated women. “Who are you?”

  “What, Miss Richards? You do not recognize me?” He sneered at her. “I suppose you thought you would never see me again.”

  “Mr. Bates?” she gasped. “Lord Royce told you never to come back here!”

  “That scholar? He couldn’t stop me, now, could he? Here I am.” He laughed, a soft, humorless, chilling sound. Even Louisa, who had nothing to fear from him, shivered. “I see he has abandoned you to waltz with someone else. How ungallant.”