Laurie Brown

by Hundreds of Years to Reform a Rake

  “Whew! That’s a lot to answer.”

  “Not to mention Mrs. Osman reported that Sadie has decided to join a convent even though she’s not Catholic.And there were several axes found next to a large hole in the bedroom wall of one of the guest rooms. At the housekeeper’s suggestion I kept those particular guests entertained downstairs until it could be repaired, but as that was Estelle and Xavier, I assume there is a connection. My mother’s instinct tells me you know more than you’ve said.”

  “It is quite complicated.”

  “The abridged version will do. For now.”

  Dev explained, as briefly as possible, that Josie had piqued his interest in the séances and he’d agreed to help her debunk the charlatan. Of course, he left out the deals they had made and any resulting intimacies. Honoria was indignant at his brief description of Xavier’s treatment of Josie when he discovered the traps and was appalled to learn that Estelle had directed him to consign Josie to the dungeon.

  “The poor girl. That horrible place.” Honoria shivered in sympathy.“However did she cope?”

  “I’ll let her tell you that herself. It’s rather amusing the way she tells it.”

  “I sincerely doubt that.”

  “Maybe keeping a sense of humor about being stranded down there is one of the ways she is coping with the ordeal.”

  “I suppose so. How did she escape?”

  Dev told her about Sadie hearing the screams, how he got involved, and the hole in the wall. He explained how Josie had figured everything out, how she had planned the denouement, and that he had only assisted her.

  “But what about the emeralds? How did you...”

  “Actually, Josie is responsible. Now before you say anything, I never claimed to have found them.

  I merely presented them to you. Perhaps Josie should be the one to explain how...”

  “I cannot wait. Out with it.”

  Dev repeated the story Josie told him about falling through the wall and finding both the skeleton and the jewels.

  “But how could she see what she was doing?”

  Honoria asked with a wrinkled brow. “It’s black as pitch down there.”

  “I never thought of that,” Dev said, sitting back.

  He had been so relieved to finally get her out, he hadn’t asked any questions. Josie had not had a candle or lamp. How strange.

  “Oh, I know,” Honoria said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Obviously, there must have been cracks in the wooden panel door that allowed just enough light through.”

  “A logical conclusion,” Dev said, relieved his mother had provided her own answer. Still, perhaps he should ask Josie about that.The thought served as a reminder that she waited for him downstairs.

  “If that is all...”

  “One moment more. I have been meaning to speak to you about Josie.Your regard for her has not gone unnoticed.”

  “Now, Mother. I’ve told you before I do not need your matchmaking.”

  “Actually, you’ve said you did not want my assistance, that you hated, abhorred, detested my interference, and various other permutations of the same theme.You have never said you did not need my help.”

  “Do not make something out of nothing. A simple word...”

  “I noticed your reaction when she admitted to not having a fortune or even any income.”

  “My reaction, if there was such a thing, was to what she left out. She did not deny being related to the Duke of Landemere.”

  “Hmmm.Interesting. I have been thinking...since Josie found the emeralds, they rightly belong to her.”

  “She insists they belong to the family, and thus to you as Lady Waite.”

  “Perhaps she would accept the emeralds as they were originally intended, as a bride gift.” She gave him a knowing smile.

  “You are a conniving, conspiring...”

  “Observant, caring.”

  “And much too clever.”

  “Where do you think you got your brains? Your father was an admirer of that American character Benjamin Franklin, who advised marrying an intelligent woman if one would have smart sons.”

  “Didn’t he also advise nude air baths? Never mind. I do not need to know that about my father.”

  “Are you going to ask her to marry you or not?”

  Dev stood and kissed his mother on the forehead. “I am considering the possibility. If I decide to ask her, you will be the second person to know her answer.”

  “And just who will be the first?”

  “Why, me, of course.”

  “Do you doubt she will accept?”

  He scratched his jaw.“One of the things I enjoy most about Josie’s company is her unpredictability.”

  “Not to worry. I have seen the way she looks at you.” Honoria clapped her hands.“A wedding.And grandbabies.”

  “Whoa, whoa. Do not get ahead of yourself.

  First I must ask her and she must accept.”

  “Then what are you doing here? Go on. Go.”

  Dev laughed and shook his head as he left. His mother had solidified the thoughts that had been hovering on the edge of his consciousness since the moment he’d met Josie. But she was unconventional, stubborn, argumentative. Also curious, smart, and inventive. Life would never be dull with Josie at his side. And in his bed.

  Now he needed to convince her.

  Josie bent to pick up the emerald jewelry and put everything back in the case.“An earring is missing.”

  “Something rolled under that...that piece of furniture,” Mrs. Binns said,waving to a large unit with doors and shelves with her near-empty glass.

  Josie got down on her hands and knees.“I think I see it.” But the only way she could reach it was to lie on her back and scoot her left shoulder half underneath the cabinet.

  “When one has servants, one does not crawl around the floor retrieving lost emeralds.”

  She touched it with her fingertips but could not quite get a hold of it. “Arrrgh.” She stretched and strained. “Got it.”

  Dora rushed to her side. “Oh, miss. They said you’d been shot.” The maid fell to her knees and wrung her handkerchief between her hands.

  “I’m...” Josie attempted to sit, but Dora’s weight on the fabric of her dress prevented any move-ment.“ Oops.”

  “Are you in pain? Just lie still.”

  “I’m not...”

  “You are so brave.” Dora dabbed at her eyes.

  “But I’m not...”

  “Yes, you are, and don’t you worry. Sadie promised to learn her rosary so she can keep vigil.” Dora spoke really fast as if she thought Josie would expire on the spot.

  “I am not...”

  “And Cook will make her special salmon tarts for your funeral luncheon.”

  With a sigh, Josie gave up trying to convince the maid.“Dora, will you do something for me?”

  “Oh, yes, miss.” She sniffed.“Your dying wish...”

  “Hardly that.Would you move off my dress so I can sit up?”

  Dora quickly scooted back. “Should you be moving?”

  Josie scrambled to her feet. “I’m fine. Not shot.

  Not dying. See, no blood.Well, that’s just a bit from a cut on my head. Not fatal.”

  “You’re not dying? But I heard the gunshot myself.”

  “Missed me completely.”

  “I’m going to strangle that Sadie.”

  “But don’t tell Cook,” Mrs. Binns called from the corner. “What?” she responded to Josie’s glare.

  “She’s making salmon tarts.” Her words were starting to slur, and the last came out sounding more like shaman moosh tarsh.

  Josie could only roll her eyes.Turning her attention back to the maid, she noticed Deverell standing just inside the door. He looked dreadful, weak and thin.

  “Dora, I’d like to thank you for all your help.”

  “Ah, sure.”

  Josie wanted to talk to Deverell, and she needed an excuse to get rid of Dora. “I’d like
to take a walk outside.Would you please fetch my bonnet and shawl?”

  “Don’t you want to change your clothes?”

  “No. After all the excitement, I need the fresh air first.”

  The maid shook her head as if to say there was no way to understand such an odd request, but she curtseyed and left the room.

  “Time to go,” Deverell said.

  “It’s only five forty-five.”

  “Amazing, isn’t it?” Mrs. Binns said. “So much has happened, it feels as if it should be suppertime at least. Oh, yoo-hoo.” She wiggled her fingers in Deverell’s direction.

  He moved a few steps left, and Mrs. Binns’s gaze followed him. He moved right; she watched.

  “I think she can see me,” he whispered.“Why can she see me?”

  “Now you sound like the scientist. She’s always seemed aware of your presence, but the enhanced ability is probably due to a mix of adrenaline and whiskey. I doubt she’ll remember any of this.”

  Deverell waved back.“Feels very strange. Fortunately, it won’t be a problem for long. Come now.

  I have the carriage waiting.We have to go.”

  Josie realized she still held the earring in her hand, and placed it in the case, closing the lid with a soft click. She knew that once they made the jump forward in time, she wouldn’t ever see him again.“We did it, didn’t we? Changed history?”

  “I won’t know for sure until we return, but yes,

  I think we did.You did.You changed history.”

  “How does your heart feel?”

  He knew what she meant. Unconsciously, he rubbed his chest. He would not burden her with the knowledge that a broken heart caused worse pain than a bullet. She did not deserve to know the agony Dev would feel, the agony he felt at the thought of never seeing her again. “No sign of a duel,” he said.

  “Good,” she said with a relieved smile.

  “Time to go. My energy is flagging rapidly.”

  “Five minutes more,” Josie said. “I’d like to say good-bye to Mrs. Binns.”

  “Yoo-hoo, Lord Waite. I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Mrs. Binns said. “My, but you look ghostly.” She burped.“I mean ghastly.”

  “I will wait outside for you,” he said.“Don’t be overlong.”

  Josie promised and he disappeared.

  “Where did he go?” Mrs. Binns asked. “Was it something I said?”

  “Not at all. I’m sure when Lord Waite returns he’ll act as if nothing happened.”

  “I did not mean to insult him, you know. But he did...”

  “I know.” Josie seated herself in a nearby chair.

  “I wanted to thank you for all your help and guidance.Without you...”

  “Don’t thank me yet, my dear. I have not completed my job, but it won’t be long now.”After several tries, she laid her finger aside her nose.“I can smell a marriage proposal, I can. Once you are officially engaged to Lord Waite, then you can thank me.”

  “I’m sorry. I have to go home now, but I wanted...”

  “Home?” Mrs. Binns reared back. “This will be your home.Waite will come up to snuff and soon.

  I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

  Josie shook her head. “I don’t belong here.”

  She stood up. “Please remember what I said, and tell Lord Waite...” What could she say to him?

  What message could Mrs. Binns pass? “Tell him not to look for me.Tell him I wish him laughter, and music, and dancing. I wish him love.”

  Josie ran from the room before her tears could fall.

  She crossed the entrance hall and opened the door.

  “Josie? Where are you going?”

  She turned for a last look at Dev, his dear brow furrowed with confusion. Her vision blurred.

  “Quickly, Josie,” Deverell called. “We must go.

  Now.”

  She stepped on the threshold.

  “Wait,” Dev said. Something in her expression told him she was leaving forever, and desperation squeezed his heart. He bounded down the long stairway. “I love you,” he shouted.“Wait for me.”

  “If you do not come now,” Deverell said,“I can’t guarantee you will get back to the future where you belong.”

  Josie looked from one to the other. She hesitated. Past and present and future seem to swirl together, making her dizzy.

  How could she choose between the man who was and the ghost who is? Or was that the man who is and the ghost who will be? How could she choose between a man and himself?

  Twenty-one

  “WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL DAY?” Josie asked Deverell as she joined him at the top of the grand stairway.

  “Since I spent the day in the tower room reading, as I am supposed to be doing, I believe it more apropos to ask where you have been.”

  Josie smiled inwardly at the slight fretfulness of his tone because she knew the cause. The first day of Open House for Charity Week was always difficult for him. “I joined some of the tour groups. The docents are Amelia’s students, and they always manage to surprise me with some fact or other they’ve dug up. Did you know the pair of Sheraton chairs in the parlor are worth over fifteen hundred pounds?”

  “Humph. The very idea of people traipsing through our home, gawking at our belongings for a few shillings...”

  “Hardly that. Twenty-five pounds a head is nothing to sneeze at. Of course, they do get a lovely tea and our traditional salmon tarts served in the garden.” Josie stepped closer, and he automatically opened his arms and wrapped them around her. She hooked her hands behind his waist and leaned back to see his face. “It is for charity.”

  He raised his gaze to the ceiling as if appealing for patience.An act, and she knew it. He was just as interested in giving back as she was.

  “Which cause is it this time?” he asked.“Gorillas? Orphans? One-eyed beggars named James?”

  She ignored his sarcasm.“Literacy.”

  “Ah. Speaking of reading...”

  “Were we?” She gave him a wide-eyed look.

  “We were speaking of my assigned task...you do remember the act as guardians of the castle until such time as we read every book deal?”

  “Of course I do,but we both know it’s impossible.”

  “Perhaps that is the point. If the task were easy, guardians would change every generation, and what good would that do?”

  “What if the assigned task is only a ruse to force a long-term commitment? Eh? Have you thought of that?” she asked.

  “Believe me, over the years I have thought of every possibility and permutation.”

  “And?”

  Deverell kissed her on the forehead before releasing his embrace. “Guardianship is not about atonement for sins; it’s about family, and ensuring that there is always someone older and, it is to be hoped, wiser available to ask for advice. I have come to the conclusion it’s a voluntary choice.”

  “And the alternative is...”

  “Ahh, yes—moving on.That is why it is referred to as the great unknown.”

  “Not the black void?” Josie shuddered.

  “I think not. Perhaps...”

  “Sshh! Someone’s coming. It’s one of the tour groups.”

  “It’s not as if they can hear. I believe you’re avoiding the issue of moving on.”

  “I simply want to listen to his spiel.”

  “Eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves,”

  he warned her.

  “Gather round, everyone. We are now in the grand entrance,” said the docent, whose nametag identified him as Jon Higdon. He stood with his back to the door.“On my left is the receiving parlor. We will be going through there in a moment.To my right is the library.You’ll be able to take a quick peek inside before we move on. Since today is Thursday, Lord and Lady Waite-Burrows will shortly be having their tea in the library.”

  “I thought the swells always took tea in their fancy drawing rooms,” a tourist in plaid shorts said, elbowing his friend.

  �
��Thank you, sir, that’s right on cue,” Jon said, handling the heckler with ease. “The parlor or drawing room is the usual location, and outdoors is also popular in good weather. In this case...mind you, I’m not one to spread gossip, but”—he lowered his voice to a stage whisper and looked from right to left in a conspiratorial manner—“I’m sure you won’t tell anyone else.”

  “That boy has had theatrical training,”Deverell said.

  “Every Thursday, Lord and Lady Waite-Burrows entertain the ghosts of Waite Castle, and she says the ghost of Lord Waite prefers his tea in the library.”

  “Ghosts? You mean them?” a young female tourist squeaked and pointed to the top of the grand stairway.

  Apparently everyone assumed the child pointed to the life-sized portrait on the landing. “Yes,” the docent said. “In this painting, Deverell Thornton is posed casually—despite his formal evening clothes—one elbow on the mantel, a white rose dangling from his long, elegant fingers. In the language of flowers, the white rose symbolizes pure love.”

  “I always thought that rose was a mistake,”

  Deverell said.“A brandy would have been better, or at least a red rose...”

  “Sshh.”

  The docent continued, “His snowy neckwear is tied in an elaborate knot as if he were about to leave for a dinner engagement, or perhaps the opera. His gray eyes seem to hold merriment and anticipation.”

  “Impatience and aggravation,” Deverell said.

  “Sitting for a portrait was not my idea of...”

  “Sshh.”

  “His beautiful wife is standing by his side, her dress a perfect match to the fabulous emerald jewelry, a family heirloom rumored to be part of a pirate’s booty. The jewels sparkle only a bit more than her eyes, which the artist captured in such a way that they seem to reflect a secret amusement.

  The artist went on to paint several members of the royal family and seemed destined for greatness, until he supposedly set sail for America and was never heard from again, presumably lost at sea.”