Josie shook her head, still not understanding.
“The task assigned to me by the former guardian is to read every book in the castle library.” Deverell faced her, his gray eyes stormy. “It was a trick. A fancy lure hiding a barbed hook.The old reprobate’s idea of a grand joke. And I never knew I’d been caught until the hook was well set, and I was left floundering like a fish in the bottom of a boat.”
Josie watched Deverell as she shifted around and groped blindly for her notebook and pen. She let it fall open to any old page, not taking her attention off Deverell.“Who tricked you?”
The ghost shoved one hand through his hair. One black lock fell back across his forehead leaving him looking...approachable. He sat in the chair again, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs and his hands clasped between his knees.
“Earlier this evening you mentioned the ghost of Sir Robert....” Josie’s voice trailed off in uncertainty as he stared at her notebook and poised pen.
“Now I know how bacteria feel under a microscope.” Deverell conjured up another brandy and held it out to Josie to warm.“If you please.”
She balanced the notebook on her lap, then cupped the snifter in her palms. “We can talk off the record, so to speak, if you prefer.We can simply chat as friends.” She handed him the glass.
Deverell leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and pushing the wayward lock of hair back off his forehead before downing half the contents of the glass. “Interesting concept, a woman friend. Can’t say the idea has ever occurred to me.”
“Amelia is your friend.”
“She is my great-niece several times over. I watched her grow up.You, Miss Drummond, have been here precisely twenty days, and we met a mere seven hours ago.We are virtually strangers.”Deverell did not flinch at his deliberate shading of the truth.
He had researched her quite thoroughly. She had a weak spot for the underdog and a fondness for old black and white films, and she was attracted to totally unsuitable men because they did not present any threat of emotional entanglement. Deverell probably knew her better than she knew herself. “You are not here for companionship, but rather for your professional expertise.”
Josie stiffened at his rebuff. He knew he had hurt her, but it had been necessary. As the elder party...Hah! There was an understatement. The mantle of responsibility was his. He must confine their relationship to that of teacher and student.
“I shall bid you good evening.” Deverell rose and hesitated until she nodded.
He stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He would not allow himself to turn around to see whether the tears that had glistened in her eyes had fallen down her cheeks. Still, with his back to her, he offered her the explanation she sought.
“Sir Robert was the former ghost of the castle. After completing his task of counting every stone in the castle, not an easy job because the family was forever building and rebuilding one part of the castle or another, Sir Robert recruited me to take his place. He cleverly set a task that would insure the family a guardian through eternity.”
Josie called his name. Deverell hesitated, but forced himself to remain facing the door.
“If you go back in time, won’t you meet Sir Robert again?”
“Egad, I hope not. It might prove difficult to kill a man who had already been dead for five hundred years, and I would surely want to murder him.”
Deverell could not resist turning at the sound of her laughter. Josie sat cross-legged on the chaise, the edges of her kimono tucked under her toes, the ever present notebook open in her lap. She looked even younger than her years, somehow more vulnerable, as she gazed at him with sparkling eyes.
He raised one eyebrow in query.
“I didn’t mean to laugh,” she said, stifling another giggle with her fingertips.“It’s just that you sounded so macho, as if you wanted to challenge him to a duel with pistols at dawn, or to run him through with your sword.You may be dead, but you’re still a man.”
Deverell didn’t bother to open the door, but walked straight through the oak panel. Josie had verbalized the very crux of his dilemma. She was an intelligent woman, a perceptive, beautiful, vibrantly alive woman.
And he was still a man, even if he was a ghost.
Four
“OUCH,” JOSIE SAID. SHE DROPPED HER embroidery hoop and stuck her finger in her mouth.
“You don’t want to get any blood on your sampler,”Amelia said as she pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve with the flair of a magician. “Here.”
Josie shook her head at the proffered item, not wanting to stain the delicate lace-trimmed square...though Amelia seemed to have more than enough of them. She had one tucked into every pocket, one in each sleeve, and tons more stashed about the house.
“You didn’t tell me needlework was dangerous,” Josie mumbled. Or tedious. Or boring. She picked up the hoop that had fallen to the floor and eyed the uneven stitches with a frown. She was not accustomed to new things being difficult for her to learn. In three hours she’d managed a wobbly J and a lopsided O. She seriously considered shortening her nickname.
“Sewing was an important part of every Regency gentlewoman’s day. Even if she had only a few spare minutes, she picked up her thimble and thread. She carried a bit of work with her when she made social calls.The ladies did not just do decorative needlework. They made clothes for themselves and their family.”
“What about tailors and dressmakers.”
“In the country a seamstress would visit seasonally with prints of the latest fashions, and she might spend several weeks in residence while sewing new dresses.The women of the family made their own aprons, caps, underclothes, nightwear, shirts for the men, and outfits for the children. Girls started sewing items for their trousseau at quite a young age.Then there was the making and mending of all the household linens, and of clothes for the poor.
Josie groaned.
“Of course we won’t be going over how to do all that.”
“My sore fingers thank you.”
“Since you’ve worked so diligently I’ll let you in on a little secret.We have a special treat later today,” Amelia said.
“Really?” Josie managed an interested smile.“At breakfast you surprised me with your friend who gave that...amazing lecture on the language of the fan.” And an hour of practice.
Josie laid her embroidery hoop on the table and stood up, stretching, as she walked to the large parlor window that faced the gardens.Although sheets of cold rain obscured the view, she fought the urge to go out for a walk. She wasn’t used to so much inactivity.“Such an ugly gray day.”
Amelia came up beside her. “All this history is not really your cup of tea is it? I miss his lively presence, too.”
“That’s not at all what I meant,” Josie lied. It wasn’t as if she would ever actually need any of the useless information. If learning outdated skills was the price she had to pay to further her research, then she would make the best of it.“What’s on the schedule next?” she asked brightly.
Amelia gave her an understanding look and then began to pack the sewing things back into their tapestry-covered box. “Two former colleagues of mine promised to come out this afternoon. Ian Smythe collects music from the Regency and Victorian periods, and his wife Cecily did her postgrad work on dance through history. Quite interesting. Her theory is that major changes in popular dances directly predate radical social change rather than reflecting it. She just received a generous government endowment to continue her studies.”
A grant to study dancing? Josie couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Smile, my dear.This will be fun.”
Josie could hardly wait. And where was Lord Waite? Did he intend to uphold his end of the bargain?
“Dancing well was considered an essential accomplishment for both men and women,” Cecily Smythe said as she arranged armless chairs in a line. “As being among the few opportunities to socialize with members of the opposite sex, balls, assemblies, and
dance parties were widely popular.”
Josie would have preferred helping Ian Smythe set up his portable keyboard and other sound equipment in the corner, but she stayed in place and wondered how Cecily managed to speak without moving her lips.
“The Regency was a period of transition in dance,” Cecily continued. “The stately minuet was still danced at court until 1820 and at balls given by the more conservative of the aristocracy. Most assemblies and balls were filled with the lively country dance, Scotch reel, and the somewhat more subdued cotillion. A couple stood up for a set, two dances, which could last half an hour.”
Although Amelia appeared fascinated by Cecily’s droning lecture, the afternoon stretched long before Josie.
“I wish we had a few more people to set up a proper line,” Cecily said.
Josie wished for someone, anyone, even Deverell to appease the tedium.
Amelia left and returned in a matter of moments.
The sounds of a synthesized harpsichord filled the air just as the others who had been drafted to participate arrived. Cecily arranged everyone in two lines facing each other, Ian, George the foot man, and four of the chairs on one side, and the women on the other. Amelia curtseyed gracefully to her partner George. Josie and a giggling Emma followed suit facing their wooden partners.
“I’ve named my chair Raoul,” Josie whispered to Emma.
“Mine is Colin,” the maid replied, giving a flirty wave of her fingers in its direction.
Cook smiled tolerantly, but Vivian folded her arms and stared up at the ceiling.
Cecily took her position at the end.“We are lined up for the longways country dance.There are also circle formations.This type of dance can be performed by six couples or by more than six hundred couples, the only limitation being the size of the hall.”
“Or the endurance of the dancers.”
Josie heard Deverell’s voice, but when she looked around he was nowhere to be seen.And no one else appeared to have heard anything out of the ordinary.
Cecily did look to her left down the row of women, but she simply signaled for them to straighten up the line before continuing her lecture. “In its simplest form, the dance is rather like Follow the Leader.”
“I always preferred a game of cards,” Deverell said, his disembodied voice causing goose bumps on Josie’s arms.
“The first couple executes a series of moves; then the other couples repeat them.Then the first dancers go to the ends of their respective lines, and the second couple presents their series of moves. This continues until the first couple returns to the starting position. If the lines were long, this could take up to an hour.”
“Reason enough to avoid dancing with someone you do not fancy.”
This time when he spoke, Josie saw him. Only faintly, rather like an unfocused photo seen through frosted glass, but that deep smoky voice could belong to no other.Yet no one else noticed him seated on the chair directly opposite her.
Josie squinted, trying to see him more clearly. Knowing what distress his sudden appearance in front of the servants, not to mention in front of her friends, would cause Amelia, she whispered,“What are you doing here? Go away.”
“Beg your pardon?” Cecily stepped forward and looked directly at Josie.
“Are you speaking to me?” Deverell asked.
Josie ignored him and spoke to Cecily. “Sorry. My foot fell asleep.” She shook her leg for emphasis. “Please continue.”
Deverell stood and stepped toward her. “You were speaking to me.That’s strange.”
Very strange, since no one else seemed to see or hear him. Either that, or they were ignoring him, a strategy Josie decided to adopt because the other alternative brought up questions she wasn’t ready to ask...or answer.
“Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?”
With some effort she refrained from looking in his direction.
“Josie has a valid point,” Cecily continued.“This system left many of the participants idle when they wanted to be dancing. The next evolution came when a series of moves became fixed and could therefore be learned in advance and danced by everyone at the same time. But enough of my chatter. Ian and I will demonstrate a move, and then we’ll all do it together.”
Josie learned how to single, double and cross-over, chassé, do a gip, and do a mad robin. And Deverell became more difficult to ignore as he chose to take the role of her partner and personal dancing master. His presence become clearer and clearer, at least to her, until she saw him distinctly with only a bit of shiny aura around the edges. Almost like a full body halo. But he was no angel. His caustic comments became increasing difficult to let pass without a response.
“Step lightly. You’re dancing, not stomping grapes.”
“Graceful arm movements. Not like you’re chopping wood.”
“The floor is even and smooth.There is no need to look at your feet.”
“Don’t slump. Good posture must be maintained at all times.”
“Dainty steps.This is not a gallop.”
“Enough!”
“What?” Emma asked.
Josie realized she’d spoken aloud and had to cover her faux pas.“I was just telling Raoul I’ve had enough of his stepping on my toes.”
Emma giggled.“My Colin is a wonderful dancer.”
“I never stepped...oh, I understand. It’s a metaphor,” Deverell said.“Point taken.” He bowed his apology.
Josie curtseyed her response.
“So you can see me. Curious.”
“Now we’ll dance a complete set,” Cecily said, saving Josie the necessity of a confirmation.
The Sir Roger de Coverly reminded Josie of the Virginia Reel from her childhood.They managed from beginning to end with only a few reminders from Cecily, and with blessed silence from Deverell who retreated to watch from the sidelines. They even tried a straight hey, which wound up looking more like a game of musical chairs as they marched in and out around the stationary partners.
“Oh my. Perhaps we should take a break.” Amelia said, plying her fan with vigor.
Unfortunately, Josie had left her fan in the parlor.
“Are we done?”Vivian asked.
“What’s her problem?” Josie whispered to Emma, her neighbor in dance terms.
“I don’t know. This is more fun than doing the tango with a mop or the electric monkey with a dust cloth.”
Josie really needed to get out more. She’d never even heard of the electric monkey.
“I think we could do with some refreshment,” Amelia said. “Vivian, would you please fetch us some lemonade?”
Cook scuttled out the door, presumably to prepare her employer’s request, but Vivian stood her ground and jerked her head toward the other maid. Emma turned to leave.
“Thank you,Vivian,” Amelia said, stopping the second maid mid-step.“Emma will tidy up in here. George, please let in a bit of air,” she added with a wave toward the bank of French doors that opened out onto the large stone terrace that had been added to the back of the castle in the late 1700s.
The rain had stopped, and the fresh scent of green countryside wafted in on a cool breeze.
Vivian stomped out of the ballroom, sparing a glare in the other maid’s direction.
“Now she’s in a snit,” Emma said. She moved two chairs back against the wall and returned for the others. “Farewell, Colin.” She patted the back of the chair.“You were a good partner.”
“Unfortunately, Raoul was a bit stiff.”
“Stiff is not always a bad thing in a partner,” Emma muttered, but then immediately apologized.
“It’s Raoul who deserves my apology,”Josie replied with a wink. “The poor stiff,” she added over her shoulder as she left to join Amelia and the others.
Cecily was speaking about the waltz. “The Regency version was danced a bit slower than in Victorian times. And, yes, it was considered scandalous. Even that epitome of a Regency bad boy Lord Byron thought it shameful to embrace on
the dance floor. Lady Jersey did not allow it at Almack’s until 1815. She preferred the Quadrille, a French dance of five sections performed by four couples. Much too complicated to learn today.”
“Can we have a waltz before tea?”
“I’m sorry, Amelia,” Ian said with a shake of his head.
“We can’t stay to tea,” Cecily added.“It’s near an hour back to London, and we have a previous engagement this evening.” She looked at her watch. “In fact, we should be leaving soon.”
“I’m sorry you can’t stay.”
“Me, too,” Josie added.“Thank you so much for sharing your expertise.” She shook hands with both visitors. When Ian excused himself to pack up his equipment, and the women started catching up on mutual acquaintances, Josie slipped away to get some air on the terrace.
The outside temperature was chillier than she’d expected, and for once she wished she had one of those bothersome shawls. Rather than go back inside just yet, she found a seat in a sheltered alcove where she could still enjoy the view.
“Raoul?” Deverell said as he materialized at her side.“That’s what you named your dream partner?”
“At least Raoul didn’t criticize my every move.”
“Critique is not criticism. One cannot improve without knowing what one is doing wrong.”
“Again semantics. What were you even doing there? Amelia doesn’t want you to be seen or heard.”
“Obviously I wasn’t. Not by anyone other than you.”
“And why is that?”
“I haven’t a notion.”
“You promised to answer all my questions.”
“To the best of my ability.”
“Meaning?”
“I have no answer.Always before anyone and everyone could see me to the degree I chose to materialize.”
“What do you mean by degree?” Josie reached for her notebook, only to realize she must have left her reticule in the parlor with her fan. Didn’t Regency women understand the value of pockets?
“Pockets would ruin the line of your dress.”
“I thought you couldn’t read my mind.”
Deverell rolled his eyes. “Your thoughts were transparent to the most casual observer. You reached to your left wrist for something that wasn’t there. What would be hanging from your arm other than your reticule with your notebook? Then you patted your side where your usual modern attire of a jacket would have a pocket.A little huff of breath signaled your frustration.The interpretation is obvious.”
Laurie Brown Page 6