A Haunting at Havenwood (Seasons of Change Book 6)

by Sally Britton

  He spread his fingers apart and peered through them. Erasmus leaned over the desk, reading the scattered pages on its surface. “I cannae tell you how fascinating it is to ken how widespread reading is now. Almost anyone can do it.”

  Ras did not so much as bat an eye at the allusion to his grandfather’s historical past. Instead he looked about the room for Lady Elizabeth. “Where is your wife, sir? She was here a moment ago.”

  “Aye. She is watching your mother and sisters come up the drive.”

  That statement took a moment to break through Ras’s irritation. When it did, Ras bolted out of his chair. “My mother and—what? They cannot be here.”

  But the crunch of wheels on gravel sounded in his ears. Ras hurried to the windows and pushed them open, looking out with trepidation.

  “What are they doing in Northumberland?” he asked, looking over his shoulder, trying not to stumble over his words in his haste to speak them.

  His great-grandfather shrugged and grinned most wickedly. “I’m not a fortune teller, lad. Go see for yourself.”

  The front door burst open in the hallway, and Mrs. Grey’s voice echoed through the house. “Why is no one attending the door? Where is everyone?”

  Ras tugged at his waistcoat, then his coat sleeves, as he made his way out of the study and down the corridor. His mother, though diminutive in stature, was a woman of substantial presence. She filled the surrounding air with whatever emotion she felt most. At the moment, the scent of impatience hovered around her.

  “Grey, there you are.” She had taken to calling Ras by his surname after his father died. It was a common enough practice that he did not feel slighted by it. Especially given the way she held her arms out to embrace him.

  Behind her stood his sisters. Diana waved and Victoria appeared thoroughly amused by the situation.

  Ras bent to allow his mother the embrace, and he kissed her cheek. “Mother. Welcome back to Havenwood Lodge. Diana, Victoria. I did not know you were coming.”

  Two coachmen approached, a large chest held between them. Ras gulped at the size of it.

  “And staying?”

  “Only until after Twelfth Night, dear, then we really must go back to London.” Mrs. Grey fluttered her hand toward the stairs and directed the servants. “Take it up to the entry. Douglas will see to it.”

  “Mr. Douglas works in the gardens, Mother.” Ras stepped out of the way of the men carrying the trunk and saw Mrs. Douglas in the hall. “Only Mrs. Douglas and her daughter Jill work in the house at present. Mr. Douglas and Billy attend to the outdoor needs.”

  “What?” His mother placed a hand over her heart. “And you have lived like this, when you could have easily hired half a dozen servants to attend to you?”

  Ras ran his hand over his hastily tied cravat before tucking the hand behind his back. “I have managed.”

  “But we will be here for two entire months, Grey.” She puffed out her chest like an annoyed hen. “I will see to that. I imagine several families have children who will happily take up positions, even for a short time.”

  Her mother’s own maid appeared in the doorway, holding a hatbox in one arm and a little dog in the other.

  “Oh, Keyes. Do take Muffin to the back gardens for some exercise.”

  “Yes, madam.” Keyes curtsied and made her way down the corridor, stepping around Mrs. Douglas, who was wringing her hands.

  “If you please, Mrs. Grey, we haven’t aired out rooms nor anything else to prepare for you. If you can rest in the parlor, I’ll bring refreshment and then set things to rights.”

  “An excellent idea, Mrs. Douglas.” Mrs. Grey swept by Ras, her daughters following, and into the downstairs sitting room. “Come, Grey. We must speak at once.”

  Ras exchanged a glance with the harried housekeeper just before she turned on her heel and practically ran down the corridor. It wasn’t like his mother to upset an entire household in such a way. But she did not seem distressed. Why had she come all the way to the far-reaches of Northumberland when she could have stayed in any number of her favorite towns, renting houses or as the guest of her friends?”

  He entered the sitting room with some trepidation. His mother had already settled in the largest chair, and she cast her bonnet on the table nearest her with an air of relief. Diana and Victoria held their hats and their tongues.

  “I know I have caused something of an inconvenience with my arrival. I thought to send word ahead, but then realized it would change little. It should not take more than a few hours to put the house to rights. Dear me. Have you kept most of it closed up?”

  Ras went to the mantel and took up the poker for something to do, jabbing at the burning logs as he spoke. “I have only had need of my room, my study, and this sitting room. I have eaten in the dining room once, and my kitchen or study the rest of the time.”

  Her eyes twinkled up at him. “How rustic.” His mother sighed, deeply. She did not sound precisely disappointed with him, or disgusted. “But we are here now, and the girls will have maids, and we will all need the dining room. I know you prefer to be on your own, but I cannot have you turning into a recluse or a hermit.”

  “Is that why you came?” Ras looked from his mother to his sisters. “To see that I am properly social?”

  Diana answered, a dimple appearing when she smiled. “In part. But we have a few other reasons. I have met someone. A gentleman I should very much like you to meet.”

  “Mr. William Morningside,” his mother supplied, obviously pleased. “As the head of the family, you must meet him and give your blessing. I think he is a wonderful young man, but I will leave you to form your own opinion when he comes to visit.”

  Ras’s head started to spin. “He is coming here?”

  “In a fortnight.” Diana lowered her lashes and sighed, obviously enamored enough with the man to miss him. “I hope you like him.”

  “But that isn’t the only thing which brings us here.” Mother took the reticule dangling from her wrist and put it in her lap. She opened it and began removing the contents, a piece at a time. She removed a small pair of scissors, a little notebook, ribbon, a handkerchief, and then a slim book. “This arrived at the house in London. Along with a note.” She took a folded paper out too. “I am sorry—I opened it and read it before I realized it was not for me. A friend promised to send me a book of poems, you see, and the writing on the letter was rather untidy.”

  Ras took the paper and recognized the scrawl of his publisher. His whole body grew hot, then cold, as he realized what his mother had found out. “This is the first printing of a book, Mother.”

  “Of your book, Erasmus Grey.” She fixed him with a narrow-eyed stare, and his sisters fell silent. “I knew you were writing. I knew you were sending things off. But as you never mentioned actually publishing anything—”

  “I used a nom de plume, Mother.” Ras gestured to the book she yet held. “No one will connect the family to my penname. I made certain of that.”

  She lowered her gaze to her hands, looking down at the book. “I know. I thank you for that. But Grey, that was not what I wished to say.”

  “We read it,” Victoria blurted, her eyes going round. “All three of us. Diana started it first, then I took turns reading it aloud with her after dinner every night.”

  “I think it’s brilliant,” Diana said.

  Then Mrs. Grey said rather boldly, “We all do.”

  Ras looked from his mother to his sisters and back again. “You do?” He stepped back, his shoulder colliding with the mantel.

  Mrs. Grey nodded. “I knew I could not write a letter about this, son. That would be trite and ungrateful. Given all the time you have spent writing, and all the time I pretended I did not notice, I had to come and tell you in person. Your book is wonderful. Besides that, we need you to secure a copy of the second volume for us.”

  His sisters laughed, and Ras managed to release a chuckle as well. “I will write my publisher at once. You shall all have co
pies, if you wish.” Then he sobered and went to his mother’s side. “Thank you for coming.”

  Mrs. Douglas came in with a tray of tea and sandwiches. Ras relaxed, and the conversation turned to Diana’s gentleman, who meant to offer for her hand if he met with Ras’s approval. Given how happy his sister appeared, Ras had great hopes for the match.

  And he hoped very much that when Louisa grew well he could introduce her to his family. They would like her. He knew they must.

  He looked out the window as the sun went down, his mother and sisters going to their rooms at last, and he glimpsed Lady Elizabeth and Erasmus walking down the drive. At the sight of them, his heart sunk.

  He had come to the Lodge, met the woman he hoped to wed, had his writing accepted by his family, and still the ghosts lingered. Because of the treasure, though they had avoided speaking of it. They had developed a keen interest in his relationship with Louisa, too. Was that what kept them present?

  Harbottle’s size meant there were few secrets, and it meant news traveled on swift wings. Louisa sat up in bed, reading through her notebook, when Sarah came into the room with pink cheeks and wide eyes. “Mr. Grey’s mother and sisters have arrived at Havenwood Lodge, miss.”

  Louisa blinked, then snapped her notebook closed. “He did not say he expected them.”

  “No, miss. They sent to the Unicorn for more hands to come and help. Bert was here naught five minutes ago, telling me all about it. No one knew they were coming, but it sounds as though they mean to stay for some time.” Sarah went to the window and fussed with the curtains. “Bert says they’ve not all been at the house together since the late Mr. Grey passed away.”

  “So I’ve heard.” Louisa folded her hands over her notebook. What did this mean for their courtship? She certainly could not sneak off to the Lodge again. And what would Mrs. Grey think of her, a penniless woman living with an elderly relative? If Mrs. Grey was anything like Mrs. Banner, she would not appreciate her son marrying down in fortune.

  She looked up at Sarah when she realized the maid still fidgeted, as though there was more she wished to say. “Is something the matter, Sarah?” A horrid thought occurred to her. “Do you wish to try for a position at Havenwood Lodge?”

  “Oh, no, miss. I would never leave you like that.” Sarah smiled a little brighter. “It is only that—well. Bert has asked if he might take me to the All Hallows Eve bonfire. They have a big one at the castle ruins, telling ghost stories and singing songs. I told him I had to ask, miss. And you’d be the one to give permission, since Mrs. Penrith isn’t my employer.”

  “The bonfire. Of course. Yes, you can go with Bert.” Louisa paused, noting again the pink in her maid’s cheeks. “You like him, I think.”

  “Yes, miss.” Sarah’s blush darkened. “I like him a great deal. But I promise, he’s a good man, respectful and sweet-natured.”

  Louisa stifled a laugh and attempted to reassure the younger woman. “I do not doubt it, given his mother’s kindness and what I know of Bert.” She twisted her blanket in her fingers. “I am happy for you.” The maid’s life seemed far less complicated than Louisa’s at the moment.

  Something still wriggled in Louisa’s mind, at the back of her thoughts. The treasure. Ras’s offer of courtship. Her mother’s marriage. All of it combined confused her emotions. She settled deeper into her bed and sighed. When her dratted cold went away, she had a great deal of work to do.

  Chapter 20

  Louisa stood in the Havenwood family graveyard, arms crossed, glaring down at a headstone covered in moss and darkened by time. She read the name across it for the seventh time, then looked to the left and right of the marker. Something was terribly wrong with the placement of Erasmus Grey’s final resting place.

  A snap of a twig brought her attention upward, to the tree where her Erasmus Grey had first appeared. He came out from under its bright orange foliage, ducking his head to avoid knocking his hat off on the low branches. A flicker of surprise in her heart soon changed to something warmer, more content.

  “How did you know to come?” she asked, delight evident in her tone. She held her gloved hand out to him, and he took it the moment he was near enough.

  “Would you believe me if I said a ghost told me you were here?” he asked, his eyes glimmering with warmth and humor.

  Louisa considered him a moment then contemplated where they stood. “I might, actually.” She laced her fingers through his. “Especially given my turn of thought this morning.”

  His eyebrows drew down. “Are they dreary thoughts?”

  She shook her head and leaned a little against his shoulder. “Not particularly. Frustrated, perhaps. Must ghosts always be dreary? That book I read—the one I told you about, with the collections of people’s experiences with ghosts—not all of it was sad. Some of it was lovely. Such as the stories of mothers visiting their children.”

  He sobered still further. “You have heard my mother and sisters are come to Havenwood.” The dark look upon his face was not at all what she expected, and Louisa immediately tried to set him at ease.

  “I have heard, and I thought I ought to be happy for you. You have only ever said loving things about your family, apart from their lack of understanding with your writing.” She tilted her head to the side, the better to see him around the brim of her bonnet. “Unless you think I ought to be concerned about them—?”

  “No,” he said hastily, the word tripping somewhat from his tongue. “I think—I hope—they will like you when they meet you. Though I haven’t told them about you. Yet.”

  Louisa’s stomach twisted. He hadn’t? It had been several days since she learned they were in residence, though it was the first time she had ventured out of doors since she became ill.

  Ras brushed his thumb over hers and lowered his voice as he spoke. “I wanted to be certain you regretted nothing of our last conversation. I have not seen you in days, and I could not even send a note directly to you.”

  Ah, that explanation she could allow, and her heart immediately softened toward him. “I find I regret not one aspect of our conversation. Absolutely nothing.” Her cheeks warmed, her allusion to their kisses making her rather wish to both hide her blush from him and stand on her toes and try for another kiss.

  “Ah, well if that is the way things are….” He turned so they were face to face, rather than shoulder to shoulder, and put his free hand to her cheek. “I am delighted you are well again, because I cannot wait another moment to tell my family everything about you, and have you meet them.”

  She leaned into his palm, then closed her eyes and sighed. “That is a relief to hear. I cannot wait to meet your mother and sisters. But—” She bit the inside of her cheek, then continued speaking. “I am afraid things are a little more complicated for me at present. My mother has sent for me.”

  He stilled, and his hand fell back to his side, while the other squeezed her hand. “Sent for you? But—why?”

  “She is to be married. And she thought it would look better for me to be present.” Louisa shook her head as she might to rid herself of a troublesome insect. “I love my mother. Perhaps I ought to go because it is my duty. But after her wedding, she intends to send me away to her husband’s country house. I think she rather likes displaying me, like a favorite piece of jewelry, and then putting me away again until it is fashionable for me to be seen.”

  Ras squeezed her hand, his expression softening to something sympathetic. “What will you do?”

  Louisa looked down at the headstone again, contemplating the twists and turns in her own life. Erasmus Grey and Lady Elizabeth had left their love notes to each other scattered in their house and family books. No one could doubt how they had come to care for each other. She wanted that for herself.

  “I would rather stay here, with Aunt Penrith…and near you.” She darted a glance up at him and then looked away again. “But you have a duty to your family, to return to London for your sisters. So I must ask—do you regret anything of our
acquaintance? Do you wish you had not asked to court me?”

  “No. I could never regret a moment spent with you.” He released her hand and gestured to the graveyard. “Some might think meeting you here was a portent of sorts—an ill omen. But I see it so differently. We came upon each other for a purpose.”

  “I feel the same.” She looked again at the gravestone. “Aunt Penrith says I may stay with her indefinitely. She believes I ought to choose what will make me happy, since I am independent of my mother.”

  “Will staying here make you happy, Louisa?” Ras moved closer again, and when she lifted her gaze to meet his, she found the intensity of his stare made her heart throb. “It is true, I must return to London in January. But that leaves us two glorious months of fall colors and winter frosts to spend hours and hours in each other’s company.”

  “Hours and hours?” she repeated, somewhat breathless. One of her hands rested against his chest while he gently grasped her waist.

  “Yes.” He bent, his lips hovering near hers. “I have a secret hope of this courtship leading to more. You see, someone recently shared their wisdom with me. He said, ‘it is only once in a lifetime, if at all, that a man meets someone who changes everything.’” His breath stilled before he spoke again, slowly and carefully. “I think you have changed everything for me. I cannot imagine seeing you go, because my heart is too lonely at the very thought of saying goodbye.”

  “This sounds as though you wish to make things permanent.” He was so near to kissing her without actually doing so, and that nearness drove her nearly to distraction. Her heart interpreted what he meant, and a future filled with him danced within her mind.

  Ras nodded once. “Yes. It is my hope that when I leave for London in January, you will accompany me. We will brave Town and Society, and then return here in the summer, where we may find Havenwood waiting to welcome us home. Please, love. Stay.”

  Louisa took in a deep breath, answering with a surety she had never felt before. “I will stay.”