by Ava Stone
“I do hope everyone is all right,” Alastair said as he and the doctor walked side-by-side toward the pub.
“They are now, but I wasn’t so certain for a while.”
The pair walked into the near-empty pub and settled at a table in the corner. A barmaid brought them two pints at their request, and once Alastair had taken a healthy swig, he turned to the man who he hoped he’d be calling brother-in-law soon.
“I suppose you know why I asked you here,” he said.
The doctor nodded and gave a belabored sigh. “I think I have a good idea.”
“Your sister, she’s…” Alastair felt all at sea. He’d never even dreamed of proposing to anyone before, let alone asking for permission to do so. What was he supposed to say?
“Lord Wolverly,” Dr. Alcott began, but Alastair cut him off.
“Please. My friends call me Wolf.”
The doctor gave a wan smile. “And what does my sister call you?”
He hesitated a moment, and then admitted with an equally wan smile, “Alastair.”
“Well, Wolf, I suppose if we are to be brothers-in-law, you ought to call me Graham.”
Alastair’s jaw dropped. Could it really have been that easy?
“My sister loves you, that much is obvious,” Graham went on. “And though I know little about you, I can see that not only are you an upstanding gentleman, but it’s obvious you love her too. And who I am to stand in the way of true love?”
“Your blessing means a great deal to me,” Alastair said, still wondering if there might be a catch coming.
“I’m afraid there is one problem, though.”
Ah. Here it was.
Graham leaned back in his chair with another heavy sigh. “She does not come with a dowry, and for that, I am very sorry.”
Alastair couldn’t help himself. He burst into laughter, both relieved and amused. “My interest in your sister has nothing to do with money, my friend.” He clapped a hand to Graham’s shoulder. “I promise your sister will want for nothing.”
A wave of relief seemed to wash over Graham. “Then welcome to the family, my lord.”
They clinked their tankards together and took a celebratory swig of their ales. But Alastair knew he couldn’t linger.
“I’m afraid I have to cut this meeting short, Graham.”
“Is something the matter?”
The doctor must have read the worry on his face. “As a matter of fact, yes.” He took a deep breath and leaned in, so as not to be overheard by the few that lingered in the pub. “Miss Eilbeck has gone missing.”
Graham set his tankard down and leaned in. “Missing?”
“I’m afraid so. That’s why Daphne was with me today, at Marisdùn . We’ve been searching the entire castle, all of us, since this morning.” He paused, sucking in a breath. “There’s no sign of her.”
“I should come with you, help you search.”
“No.” Alastair stayed him with a hand. “I need you to watch out for Daphne. Keep her safe. We don’t know what—or who—is out there. I don’t want her traipsing about the countryside alone until we know what’s happened.”
Graham nodded. “You will send word if you need us.”
“Of course.” He was about to get up, when a thought occurred to him. “Perhaps there is one other thing you can do.”
“Anything.”
“Braden is concerned about this news getting out to the rest of the town. He’d rather not cause alarm—at least not yet. Daphne wants to go to church in the morning to pray for Miss Eilbeck, but doesn’t Miss Eilbeck usually attend services?”
“Of course.”
“Then it’s the perfect opportunity for Daphne to throw everyone off the scent. Encourage her to start a rumor, if you will, that Miss Eilbeck is home sick.”
“I can certainly do that,” Graham said. “I can even vouch for her as the doctor.”
“Brilliant. Thank you, Graham.”
Alastair shook his future brother-in-law’s hand, made sure the bill was settled, and then set off back to Marisdùn , praying to God there would be good news upon his return.
Although Graham was being insistent on keeping Daphne close to home, and close to him, he did agree to allow her to go to church the next morning. She had to do something if she wouldn’t be allowed back at Marisdùn , and the best she could think to do was go to church and pray for her friend’s safe return. Oh, and of course, make everyone believe that Callie was just fine.
“Poor dear is confined to her chambers today,” she told Mrs. Linden, who was among those women known for their idle gossip. “Just a bit of a cough, I think. Nothing too serious, but enough for my brother to recommend she stay abed for a few days.”
Mrs. Linden’s hand shot to her heart rather melodramatically. “Oh, my. One must always take these things seriously. Why, I heard that Mr. Conner—you remember him, don’t you?—the poor man had a cough one day and they were digging his grave the next.”
Daphne did indeed remember Mr. Conner, though she remembered the story somewhat differently than Mrs. Linden. But she thought better of telling her that the man had drunk himself to death, and that cough he developed was his lungs drowning in gin. “Oh, yes, so tragic,” she said, mimicking the woman’s concern. “And now I must be off. Lovely service today, wasn’t it?”
Mrs. Linden nodded, her burgundy plumed hat bobbing in agreement. “Indeed, it was. Good day, Miss Alcott.”
Daphne started for the door of the church, feeling assured that the rumor would be all over town by the end of the day, but then she noticed Brighid Glace sitting in the back pew, eyes closed, her hand clutching the small cross she always wore.
Brighid started when Daphne slid into the pew next to her, and then exhaled a shaky breath when she realized it was her friend.
“Have you remained at Marsdùn?” Daphne asked quietly.
“Yes,” Brighid nodded.
If they had found Callie, Brighid surely would have said as much by now, but still, she asked, “Is there any news?”
Brighid glanced around before focusing back on Daphne. “No, but I am doing everything in my power to bring her back.”
“Power?”
Brighid stood abruptly. “I must go. I have to find the answer.” She ran through the doors before Daphne could question her further.
Graham was waiting for her just outside the door, and they fell into step beside one another as they began walking for home. Neither of them spoke until they were certain no one could hear them.
“I spoke with Mrs. Linden,” Daphne said quietly as they strode along the dirt path.
“Well done,” Graham replied. “You couldn’t have picked a better biddy.”
Daphne giggled, and then abruptly stopped, her gut twisting with fear. “I only hope we find Callie soon. Brighid says there is no news.”
Graham’s arm came around her shoulder and pulled her into him. “I’m certain we will find her soon. They are searching tirelessly at the castle, are they not?”
“They are.”
Silence fell between them. Daphne’s thoughts went to Alastair. She wanted to be with him. She felt safer when she was near him. And besides, she really wanted to be among those searching for Callie.
“I had a drink with Wolf last night before I came home.”
Daphne snapped her head sideways to look at her brother. “You what?”
“I arrived just as he was leaving,” he continued. “He asked if he could buy me a drink.”
“And?”
“And what?” A sly smile broke out on her brother’s lips, the cad.
“Tell me!” she demanded. “What did you talk about?”
Graham laughed and sidestepped when Daphne tried to smack him on the arm. “You needn’t resort to violence, dear sister. I will be happy to tell you.”
“Go on then.” Daphne thought she might burst from anticipation.
“Lord Wolverly,” he said, “has asked for your hand in marriage.”
&
nbsp; Daphne threaded her arm through her brother’s and squeezed tightly. “And what did you say?”
“I said…” He patted her hand in the crook of his elbow. “That I would be happy to have him for my brother-in-law.”
Light flooded Daphne’s heart. She could hardly believe it was true. She was going to be Viscountess Wolverly, but more importantly, she was going to be Alastair’s wife—Daphne Darrington.
“Graham,” she said, an idea coming to her. “May I attend the Samhain party at Marisdùn ?”
Graham smiled softly at her. “If there is a party, I would be happy to accompany you.”
If there is a party. Daphne looked heavenward and prayed fervently that there would indeed be a party, for if there wasn’t, that would mean tragedy had befallen her dear friend.
The day before the Samhain party finally dawned, though Alastair had been up for hours. He stared blankly out the window as the sun pushed its way upon the horizon, driving the darkness away. Though it did little to soothe the pit in his stomach—the fear that Miss Eilbeck was lost to them forever.
Alastair shook his head, moving away from his window toward his dressing room. This all seemed like pure foolishness to him, but he’d go along with it. There was no other choice. They’d spent two more days searching for Miss Eilbeck, tearing the castle apart at first, but then branching out to the surrounding grounds and even through the town. Alastair had ridden Jupiter to the coast and searched the banks of the river for hours, but there was nothing. Not a single sign of her, and not a single person who had seen her in days. He had to be careful how he asked after her, but it was obvious, after speaking to several people, that she’d not been seen since Saturday morning, when Quent reportedly saw her disappear into the hedge.
How ridiculous! One didn’t simply disappear, let alone into a densely-planted hedge. Alastair had looked, and there was no way a person could wiggle themselves into its thickness. He wanted to believe Quent had been deep in cups when he’d seen this hallucination, but his friend swore to every deity he was not.
So, it had come to this. A banishment ceremony. It would take place this evening, for apparently there was only a small window of time between then and midnight on Samhain that the door to the other side would be open, allowing them to get Miss Eilbeck back from the beyond.
Alastair wanted to laugh, but the truth was, it was their last option. And he’d do anything at this point to get the girl back. He wouldn’t be able to bear the hurt it would cause his bride-to-be.
With a new determination, he finished tying his cravat, put on his jacket, and left the room. It was his turn to entertain the guests. They’d all had to take turns searching and entertaining alternately over the last few days. The house was now flooded to overflowing with their guests from all over England, and it wouldn’t do for any of them to know what had happened here. So the six of them were taking shifts so as not to alert the masses to the strange happenings at Marisdùn .
Sidney was already in the drawing room, doing his due diligence, when Alastair arrived. With him sat three lovely brunettes and three gentlemen, all of whom he recognized from his club in London.
“I hadn’t realized this was to be a family reunion,” Alastair said, making his way to greet his friends.
The Brothers Lockwell, both Damien and Drake, the Viscount Flitwick, along with the Viscount Heathfield, all stood to shake his hand. Then they proceeded to greet their wives: Emma, Lady Heathfield and Mrs. Isabel Lockwell, who happened to be twin sisters, and Penelope, Lady Flitwick.
“We’d been wondering where you’d gone off to,” Flit said, taking his seat again. “And here we find you, rusticating in a haunted castle.”
“Yes, well, I find the countryside quite to my liking,” he replied, thinking of Daphne, of course.
“That must mean you’ve fallen in love.”
All eyes turned to Mrs. Lockwell, but Alastair was the only one with his mouth agape.
Damien Lockwell smiled. “You’ll find my wife to be rather astute and rather blunt, I daresay.”
Mrs. Lockwell’s cheeks didn’t so much as redden, but she did smile proudly at her husband’s description. “I only recognize the look about him because it’s the same one you had when you fell in love with me.”
A quiet tittering went about the room, and now Alastair’s cheeks were flaming. “Well, I suppose there’s no denying it now,” he said, swiping his nose nervously with his thumb. “But if everyone could keep this quiet until this evening, I would very much appreciate it.”
“Oh, you mean to propose this evening?”
He had meant to, though that was when he was certain Miss Eilbeck would be safe and sound by now. “If the moment presents itself,” he said simply.
“Well, that’s not terribly romantic, is it?” This came from Flitwick’s wife.
“Penelope,” Flit said, though there was humor in his warning.
“Well, it’s true,” the third lady put in—Lord Heathfield’s wife. Goodness, were all married women like this? Outspoken and forward? Alastair had to laugh—Daphne would fit in just fine, he supposed.
Lady Flitwick shot her husband a triumphant look. “Women want a grand gesture when they’re being proposed to.”
“Lady Flitwick has a point, Wolfie,” Sidney said, causing the hairs on the back of Alastair’s neck to stand on end. Damn, why couldn’t this be his time to search for Miss Eilbeck?
“I promise I will do my best,” he finally said to the room at large. “Thank you all for your input.”
Lady Heathfield stood abruptly. “Ladies, I do believe I fancy a walk through the gardens.”
“I would much prefer to visit the library,” Mrs. Lockwell said, joining her twin.
“Oh, come, Isabel,” Lady Flitwick said, standing as well and looping her arm through Mrs. Lockwell’s. “You can read anytime, but it’s not every day you get to explore the grounds of a haunted castle.”
Mrs. Lockwell rolled her eyes, clearly not convinced the place was actually haunted. A few days ago, Alastair would have been rolling his eyes right along with her, but not now. Not anymore.
“Fine,” she finally sighed, and then she turned to her husband, “Come and rescue me soon, will you?”
Lockwell laughed as the other ladies dragged his wife away. “The gardens will be good for you, darling!” he called after her.
Mrs. Lockwell shot daggers at her husband over her shoulder.
Garrick gave a low whistle. “She’s a handful, isn’t she?”
“You have no idea,” Lockwell replied, but the smile on his face belied his love for his wife.
“Well, gentlemen, what have you planned for us today?” Flitwick asked, leaning back against the plush red velvet cushions of his chair.
“We have a very nice billiard room,” Sidney said.
“In the words of Lady Flitwick, we can play billiards anytime,” Heathfield countered, a mischievous grin coming to his lips.
“I don’t like that glint in your eye,” Alastair admitted, moving further into the room and taking a seat near his friends.
“It is soon to be Samhain, after all,” Heathfield went on. “And we are in a haunted castle. I think a ghost hunt would be far preferable to playing billiards.”
Alastair took a deep breath and exchanged what he thought was a covert glance with Garrick. Apparently, it wasn’t covert at all.
“What was that?” Lockwell asked, looking from Alastair to Garrick.
“There appears to be something going on here,” Flitwick replied. “Come on, gentlemen. Out with it.”
“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” Alastair said, coming to his feet. “As much as we’d like to appraise you of the situation, it is, unfortunately, very…sensitive.”
“But we could use a few extra pair of eyes, couldn’t we, Wolf?” Garrick’s hazel eyes were wide, encouraging Alastair that telling the truth would be in their best interest.
Damn. They were all staring at him, waiting for him to divulge the details
. To be honest, they could use the extra help, though he had a feeling Miss Glace would have his bullocks on a platter for talking about this inside the castle. “Well, we have a bit of a situation,” he began. He cleared his throat. “Someone has gone missing. A young woman, actually. And it is now believed, after days of searching both this house and the countryside that…” Could he really say this out loud? He was going to sound like a lunatic. Surely his friends would pack him up straight away for Bedlam.
“The castle took her!” Garrick blurt out. Good. Now they’d send Garrick away.
“Took her?” Heathfield’s eyes looked as if they might pop out of his head. “As in…took her?”
Alastair nodded. “I’m afraid so.”
“Is that why Quent keeps telling us to keep an eye on our wives?” Heathfield asked. “Braden was very elusive about the whole thing.”
“They are going to try to get her back tonight,” Garrick supplied with a nod.
“Get her back?” This came from all three of the other men, and Alastair almost had to laugh.
He shrugged and folded his arms over his chest. “If we weren’t so desperate, I’d say it was ridiculous.” He glanced around before leaning in. “But we’re not supposed to talk about it. Not here, at least.”
“As it is, we have no other choice.” Garrick sat forward in his seat. “And the healer girl, along with the servants, has everyone rather convinced this is what happened.”
Garrick went on to explain the strange story of Mary Routelage, her strange disappearance so many years ago, and how she’d been haunting the castle ever since.
“We weren’t supposed to say anything, and we can’t share the details of what’s going to happen later on,” Alastair said at the end of Garrick’s story. “But if you three can make yourselves useful tonight and tomorrow, we would most appreciate it.”
“What can we do?” Flit asked, and Alastair realized that not a one of them had laughed or threatened Bedlam through all of this. If they thought it was madness, they kept it to themselves. Good of them to do so.
Alastair shook his head. “I wish I knew. Distract the other guests, I suppose?”
