My Lady Ghost

by June Calvin

  “Not true,” James declared adamantly. “I’d say he’s grieving for you. Seems a pity the two of you can’t meet one another halfway.” James cocked a questioning eyebrow. When she didn’t respond, he gave her hands a pat. “Well, done my part. Up to you now.”

  They stood, and Allison walked James to the door. “Do you remain in London?” she asked.

  “Only for a sennight. Thorne's presence is not required in Parliament just now, so we are going to take a tour of his northern estates.”

  And that leaves me with a dilemma, Allison thought as she watched James enter his curricle and take up the reins of a fine pair of bays. How can we discover whether or not we can learn to pull in harness together, if we are never near one another?

  The Marquess of Silverthorne sat at the writing desk in his town house study. Before him a ledger opened to the month’s accounts lay unheeded. One of Thorne’s internal debates raged in his thoughts.

  Shaking Allison’s hand at the meeting the day before had awakened all of the longings he had spent several months determinedly suppressing. Since seeing her again, the depth of his craving for her, not just in his bed, but in his study, at his dinner table, with him in his opera box, had overwhelmed him. He even found himself fantasizing about the arguments she would start, the odd opinions she would advocate with such clever logic that he found himself agreeing with her in spite of himself.

  That in itself should warn you away before you make the same mistake your father did. The old fear surfaced as always when he felt Allison's strong pull. We D'Aumonts make the mistake of loving too much.

  But that argument was beginning to lose its force. As he recalled how they had dealt with one another in the tunnel, he more and more agreed with Allison’s assessment: They had functioned as partners. Sometimes one, and sometimes the other, had prevailed in deciding a course of action. When her suggestions had been followed, it was because she had reason on her side, not because he couldn’t tell her no. When she gave way to him, she never pouted or withdrew from him.

  She isn ’t the least like Lydia. My father was twenty years her senior. He was besotted with her, whereas she married him for advantage. and used his love to rule him. Allison loves me as much as I love her. That makes all the difference.

  Does it? Do you really think she could ask you for something, tears in those sapphire eyes, and you would refuse her?

  That was the question that haunted him. Yes! Thorne sat up and slapped his hand against the ledger. If I knew what she wanted would harm her. or our children, I could.

  Would you then be the dictatorial husband she dreads?

  He hesitated over that question. He knew he had often been short-tempered with his cousin. But James behaved quite selfishly and irrationally. Allison is an intelligent woman, not a self- absorbed fool. She would bear me no ill will once I explained my reasons.

  Thorne stood up and stalked to the bow window that looked out on the street below. Water on the paving stones rippled as the rain fell. It was May. Thus far the weather had been cooler than usual, but all too soon summer’s heat would make London unbearable. Time to start for the country. Instead of pleasing him, this usually pleasurable prospect only made him feel more lonely. Where will Allison be this summer?

  As he stared at the rainy street, he saw James pull up in his curricle, his many-caped driving coat flaring behind him. He turned to greet his cousin, glad now that visits from James were no longer to be dreaded. What a change had come over his cousin in the last few months! Whether because he now had the means to be independent, or because he had earned Thorne’s respect and thus respected himself, James had become almost everything Thorne could have wished for in an heir.

  James clapped Thorne on both arms as he entered the study. “Good news, Thorne. I took the liberty of speaking to Allison about you. Think I laid her fears to rest.”

  Thorne frowned, not sure he wanted James acting as his surrogate. “What did you say to her?”

  James’s guard came up at Thorne’s tone. “I say—I hope I haven’t raised false hopes and laid that dear girl open to more hurt. You do still want to marry her, don’t you?”

  “Very much!” The answer came quickly. Thorne realized with relief that he no longer doubted his own mind.

  “Well, then, I found out why she wouldn’t marry you. Gives you a chance to change her mind. Got it out of her very cleverly if I do say so myself.”

  “I was under the impression I already knew why she refused me.” Thorne poured both of them a brandy.

  Heedless of Thorne’s wry humor, James rushed in. “First, she is worried about the heir thing. I pointed out that was irrelevant, now I’ve become such a solid citizen, planning to look about me for a wife.”

  “That sounds hopeful.” Thorne swirled his brandy, hoping James would not notice how hard he gripped the glass.

  “Second. About this ridiculous notion that you’d live under petticoat rule. Anyone knows that’s impossible. Just reminded her how you used to treat my foolishness.”

  Thorne ground his jaw. “Go on,” he growled.

  “Not that I didn’t deserve your severity!” James sipped the brandy appreciatively. “My opinion is you’d be far more likely to beat her or lock her away than stand the kind of nonsense from her that your father did from Lydia. Told her so.”

  Thorne’s glass came down on the table with a thump. “The devil you did!”

  “No need to fly up into the boughs. She wasn’t the least surprised. Agreed with me, in fact.” James recognized Thorne’s pulling his hand down his face as a sign of acute distress. “Don’t worry yourself about it, Thorne. Reminded her that a woman wants a strong man in her life.”

  “And she said?”

  “Oh. perfectly satisfied with that. Expressed the hope you might call on her.” James knew this statement strained the truth a little, but in his mind the key to a match between Thorne and Allison would be passion, and how could that arise if they weren't together?

  Thorne knew James too well. The slight shift of his eyes warned of a prevarication. “Without a doubt! Eager to have her lord and master claim her, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Just so! Ought to go over there right away.” James beamed at him, proud to have played the matchmaker to his relatives.

  After James’s departure, Allison sat at her writing desk, mulling over a stack of proposals for investing her money. Between them and the requests for charity, she could study every hour of her waking day if she wished. She did not wish!

  “If only I could turn all of this over to someone,” she complained. Her mother, who sat perusing a letter nearby, made a sympathetic noise. “Nothing in my life has prepared me to handle the huge sum of money now at my disposal, and I feel all at sea.”

  “I do not believe the female mind was designed to deal with such matters,” Delphina observed. “You must find someone to advise you.”

  “I can deal with them,” AJlison responded with asperity. “I just don’t want to. But whom can I trust?” She bent her head again, studying the document before her. She knew that some of the proposals were of value, and others merely schemes to bilk her. Her own solicitor had recommended an investment so much resembling the worst of the fraudulent schemes that she now suspected his honesty.

  Her long, loud sigh distracted Delphina’s attention from the letter again. “Why don’t you just leave it in the bank?”

  “Lord Bertland and several others have told me that I must lay it out in a variety of investments, against the possibility that one or another of them may fail.”

  “As banks sometime do.” Delphina tapped her lips with her index finger. “Lord Bertland is a worthy man, but I would not trust him to be entirely disinterested, since he wants you to invest in that tin mine of his.”

  “Just so. I don’t know whom to trust.”

  “You could trust Thorne, dear.”

  Allison turned to look at her mother. “Of course I could. I expected him to assert his authority over my
newly enriched purse long before this. Nothing could illustrate his wish to have nothing to do with me better than his playing least in sight, now that I have funds at my disposal.”

  “Nonsense. If you were to turn to him for advice, it would delight him.”

  “Hmmmm.” Allison tapped her pencil against her chin. “I wonder ...” She leafed through the various proposals in front of her. “I could sort out the ones that sound best to me and present them for his opinion. For instance, here is the prospectus for a rail car that is to be propelled by steam. Don’t you think that seems interesting?”

  “Umm, hmmm.” Delphina’s eyes were once again on her letter. Allison could see from the handwriting that it was from Agatha Keisley. Aunt Agatha had taken up residence in Bath with another of Thorne’s pensioners, keeping her mother entertained with a flow of gossip from that city.

  “And Sir Bertland’s tin mine, I think. And the land in Surrey.”

  “Very good, my dear.”

  Allison turned so she could look directly at her mother. “You aren’t listening to a word I’ve said.”

  “Nonsense, dear. I’m fascinated. Please do go on.”

  Mischief lit up Allison’s eyes. She fished through the stack of proposals she had definitely rejected and pulled out the most ridiculous one she could find. “My favorite, I think, is this one. ‘A projected voyage to Africa to search out an ape capable of being trained to replace children in factories.’ Don’t you think that an admirable goal? The children wouldn’t have to do such boring, dangerous work, and the apes would require nothing more than food to keep them content.”

  Delphina surprised Allison by dropping the letter into her lap. “That... that is ridiculous.”

  “Is it?” Allison grinned. “Only think. He proposes to establish a breeding colony in the New Forest. They could fend for themselves there, saving the projectors the trouble of feeding them.”

  “Allison, you are funning me!”

  “He is entirely serious, I assure you. He needs but ten thousand pounds sterling to outfit his ship, build cages, and hire native guides to explore the interior of Africa.”

  “I beg you will not put this mad scheme in front of Thorne! He would laugh you out of countenance, or forbid you to do it. You would resent that, and the two of you would be at daggers drawn once again.”

  Allison turned fully around in her chair to stare at her mother. She replied slowly and thoughtfully, “I dare say you are right. Then I most certainly shall present it to him.”

  Delphina rose. “I am out of all reason cross with you, Allison. You will never make it up with Thorne, and you know you won’t marry anyone else. The two of you should be horsewhipped for being so stubborn. I am going to my room, where I can read in peace.”

  Allison paid little heed to her mother’s indignation. She was too busy refining her sudden but brilliant plan. He won't be able to resist refusing to allow me to invest in this scheme. At one blow I shall show him that he can, indeed, stand up to me, and that I can be persuaded by reasonable arguments to accept his recommendation.

  She picked up her pen and began carefully composing a note to Thorne.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  “Thank you for calling so promptly, Thorne.” Allison greeted her handsome caller nervously. He had lost no time responding to her note of the previous day.

  “I intended to call on you in any case, but when you spoke of needing advice, you must have known such an invitation would be irresistible.” He winked at her.

  Allison laughed. “Particularly as it is financial advice I crave.” She picked up the stack of proposals she intended to present to him, her heart beating as if she had run a race. That wink was almost my undoing. The sight of him thrilled her as usual; the knowledge of how important this meeting was to her future intimidated her. I just have to convince him that he will not be putty in my hands. He is sure to object to at least one of these proposals. And if in fact he is utterly autocratic about it. I shall know we can't deal well together.

  As she explained her need for investment advice, Thorne felt like a man who has walked into a dangerous trap. He must advise her wisely and be firm if she sought to do anything too disastrous, else he was of no value to her. But at all costs he must not confirm her opinion that he was an incipient tyrant, unable to bear with disagreement.

  “This one comes well recommended,” she said, showing him a proposal to link England to France by a tunnel under the English Channel. Allison thought it one of the weaker proposals. She was surprised when Thorne treated it seriously. He discussed all of its positive points first, and then gently pointed out its flaws in such a way that she could but agree with him or obviously play the fool. In the end, he left the decision up to her.

  At any other time this would have delighted Allison, for it is just how she would wish them to approach such matters. But as long as he was of the opinion that his love for her put him in her power, it did not accomplish her purpose.

  A small worry frown appeared between her brows as Allison picked up the next packet. He could not but approve of the proposal to purchase an estate in Kent; after all, he could hardly deny the value of owning land. Thorne’s expression lightened as he read through the survey and description of the estate that Allison was considering. “I know this land. Good, rich land, suitable for com, and an excellent water meadow. The house is not in good repair, though. Had you planned on residing there?”

  Allison’s spirits plummeted. I had hoped to reside with you, she thought. She shook her head. “No. That is, if I did, I am aware that I would have to build. The land agent said that the house is full of dry rot and sits in an exposed location. He advises pulling it down.”

  “Your notes are comprehensive—you have studied this proposal carefully, Allison,” Thorne said admiringly. “I am not sure that you need my advice, but I certainly would recommend this purchase.” No surprise there, Allison thought. Yet pleasure suffused her at his praise.

  As he picked up the material on Lord Bertland’s tin mine, Thorne congratulated himself on having brushed through very well on Allison’s first two investment proposals, for the tunnel under the channel, though many hooted in laughter on hearing of it, intrigued him greatly. He thought it would be built someday, though now it would be a very risky venture. As for land, unless it was swampland, it was almost always a good investment.

  Thorne frowned as he read the prospectus for the tin mine. “I fear I can make very little sense of this. My advice would be to get the advice of a mining engineer. I can recommend one if you would like to have him go to the site and look matters over.” This was far too sensible for Allison to disagree with.

  The fourth proposal Allison had chosen because of their recent adventures. She found the idea fascinating, but unlikely to produce profits, for which reason she hoped Thorne would object. “Have you heard of Herr Fromann?”

  “The hypnotist?”

  “Yes. He has a very intriguing theory regarding ghosts.”

  “I’ve heard of him,” Thorne snapped. “He thinks hypnotizing people will make them able to perceive spirits. An interesting idea I would very much like to see tested. However, I fear he is not the one I would entrust to test it. Are you aware that I had to stop him from capitalizing on our experience? In both his literature and his lectures he implied that he contributed to your being able to see the Silver Lady.”

  “Oh! How dare he? But I did not read that.” She held up Fro- mann's pamphlet.

  “That is because I told him if he did not change it immediately, I would have him in Newgate.”

  In her indignation, Allison abandoned all idea of trying to sell Thorne on this plan. “He is just a charlatan then, not a true investigator.”

  “I am afraid so.”

  Allison had only one proposal left with which to accomplish her goals. She picked up the folder concerning the expedition to seek useful apes in the interior of Africa. If he approves this one, I shall join him in fearing his passivity. But he won
't. She confidently laid out the proposal, fighting hard to keep back laughter, for she was sure at any moment Thorne would interrupt her to dismiss the scheme out of hand. She went so far as to pretend a great attachment to the plan, that his refusal to countenance it would give him even greater self-confidence.

  Thorne spent a long time reading over it, his mind in turmoil. He was appalled. Never had he read anything so ridiculous. He clamped his jaw shut on a roar of outrage, for he wanted nothing so much as to demand where her usually sharp wits had gone.

  This is the side of me she fears most, he thought. For he could but confess to himself that he had a strong urge to ridicule the scheme and refuse her participation in it out of hand. Not without reason does she believe l have the potential to be dictatorial, he wryly acknowledged, massaging a suddenly throbbing temple.

  Careful, careful. I must counter all of her arguments, but do it gently, convincing her instead of simply overruling her. “Do you really think it is wise to invest so heavily in a scheme that depends upon training an animal that we do not know even exists?”

  “But that is why he needs so much money. He must provender a long, dangerous excursion into unexplored territory, capture any simians there encountered, assess their ability to be trained, and then bring back enough of them to establish a breeding colony.”

  “I. .. uh . .. question whether any creature exists sufficiently intelligent to perform these tasks and yet foolish enough to do it for naught but food and lodging.”