by Sara Freeze
Everyone turned to look to look toward the orchestra, and Ariadne gasped as she saw Lady Partington standing in front of the violinists. Her voluminous black skirts and furious face caused her to look like an enraged crow. Her daughter Rose, poured into a low-cut, form-fitting silk gown, simpered behind her mother as she directed a smirk toward Ariadne.
“That woman is an impostor.” Lady Partington’s voice trembled with rage. “She is most certainly is not a lady.” She looked down her nose at Ariadne, who crossed her arms but kept her chin lifted. “She is just a maid, a nobody.” She stepped forward, her gaze rooted on Ariadne’s face. “How dare you think you can impersonate the Quality? I thank the good Lord that my son escaped your clutches.” Her voice softened as she now directed her words to James. “I am gratified that I was able to arrive in time to save you from a dire fate, my lord. Had my sweet and lovely daughter Rose not seen and intercepted a letter from my other wretched daughter Daisy, you could well have been ruined.”
Scandalized whispers erupted around James and Ariadne. Ariadne dared to sneak a look at James. He appeared transfixed by Lady Partington’s appearance on the stage, though his creased forehead and set jaw indicated his tension. Although she was tempted to run from the ballroom and away from the whispers and stares, Ariadne knew she had to stand her ground and face the accusations.
“I may have been a servant,” she said, willing her voice to ring out across the ballroom. “But I was not worthless. And I would rather be a lady’s maid than a scheming lady of the Quality who begrudgingly pays her servants the bare minimum for their wages. Or a man of the Quality, I will not call him a gentleman, who glories in the subservience of the female servants and presses his unwanted attentions on innocent young women.” An excited chatter rippled across the ballroom as the guests reacted to this pronouncement.
Lady Partington’s face reddened to a deep scarlet as she clenched her fists and glared at Ariadne. The assembly grew silent as she hissed, “How dare you? You are nothing more than a hussy.”
“It has been my pleasure to know Ariadne for the past week.” Lady Holt stepped forward, her head held high, and addressed the rapt audience. “And I can tell you, she is no more a hussy than I am.” She arched one elegant eyebrow. “Are you calling me a hussy, Lady Partington?”
“No, of course not,” Lady Partington spluttered. “You do not take my meaning.”
“Oh, I take your meaning,” Lady Holt, a faint menace underlying her silky tone. “And I thank the good Lord that I have a son I can be proud of, a son who has the decency never to press his attention on an unwilling woman.”
James cleared his throat and began to speak when suddenly the candle flames in the ballroom flickered. A gust of wind skittered faded blossoms across the floor. Ariadne shivered as a sudden chill permeated the air. Horrified shouts and gasps echoed around the room as the faint outline of a ghostly figure took shape toward the front of the room, near the musicians and Lady Partington. Ariadne squeaked as James roughly grabbed her around the waist and yanked her farther away from the spirit.
All the guests had backed away from the spirit. Daisy quickly deserted the stage with an undignified squawk, but Lady Partington appeared to be frozen in place, her mouth hanging open in a perfect O. The wavy outlines of the spirit took shape, and Ariadne gasped as she realized they were gazing at a young woman.
And not just any young woman, Ariadne realized with a thrill. She was dressed as a servant, albeit one that appeared to hail from the Elizabethan age. She shook her head in wonder. The infamous Holt spirit had been a servant all along. Suddenly, the spirit’s strange manifestations all made sense. Ariadne realized the spirit’s most recent actions mocked the advice of one of the old manuals for the proper etiquette of servants. Lady Partington had frequently quoted from her favorite manual, Serious Advice and Warning to Servants, which had outlined such outlandish dictates as not sneezing or coughing in an employer’s presence. She smiled wryly as she remembered the bizarre commandment to servant boys to refrain from cutting off the legs of kitchen chairs. Clearly, the ghost had shown its sly sense of humor by turning all this advice back on Holt Hall’s residents.
The spirit pointed one slim finger at Lady Partington, and great gusts of wind surged against the frozen woman. The gusts soon became an almost gale force wind, and Lady Partington’s voluminous skirts blew up around her face as she fled the stage with a shriek.
Some of the guests turned to run, and Ariadne worried that people would get hurt if their fear turned into a mass panic. James, however, stepped in before the frightened crowd turned into a rushing mob. “Everyone leave the ballroom now.” His commanding tone served to cut through the panic. “Gentlemen, help the ladies. Everyone in order now.” He turned to Ariadne, his face tense with concern. “You should leave here as well.”
“This might be our only chance to talk to the spirit and maybe allow her to leave Holt Hall and find some peace once and for all.” She made a helpless gesture with her hand. “How could I possibly leave?”
“Fine. You can stay, but do not make any sudden movements.”
As the ballroom cleared, Ariadne cautiously drew closer to the spirit, ignoring James’s faint growl. What did one say to a spirit? Ariadne decided she should speak from the heart and pray that the spirit would understand her desire to help.
“Thank you for stepping in when you did,” she said, speaking slowly and calmly. “It is difficult to be in service, is it not? No one ever really sees you. You may as well be invisible.”
The spirit said nothing in reply for a moment. Her gaze roamed over Ariadne’s face, and something she read there seemed to resonate. “You are invisible. No one sees you. No one cares. No one even really knows your name.” Her voice wavered and her eyes grew brighter as she said, “Not even the one person you love more than life itself.”
Ariadne thought about the legend of the spirit, and inspiration struck. “You were in love with James’s ancestor, with the first Lord Holt?”
“I was such a fool. When he set his eyes on me and set me above all the other servants, I thought he loved me.” Her voice grew soft and sad as she added, “I became with child, and as soon as he found out, he cast me aside and banished me to the kitchens. He was so in love with the great lady he was betrothed to, or at least in love with her wealth and position, that he cared little about anyone else. He certainly didn’t devote any thought to a simple servant girl who thought the sun rose and set on his every movement.”
“The cur,” Ariadne said, bitterness coiling inside her as she thought how Albert had so heedlessly tried to seduce her; he had not cared about the consequences for her. She realized with a jolt how James had remained circumspect, even when he clearly desired her. Remorse flooded through her for not telling him the truth when it still might have made a difference.
“The babe and I both died in childbirth. I loved him.” The spirit clasped her hands to her chest, as though pleading for their understanding. “I loved him, I gave my life for him, yet he never loved me.”
“I am so sorry,” Ariadne said, her throat aching with tears she didn’t dare to shed. She feared once she started weeping, she would never be able to stop. It was so senseless. She started as James touched her elbow.
“It seems so many of the men in my family have been without honor. I apologize for their actions. The first Lord Holt, and my father, were and still are a disgrace to the Holt name. Speaking of names, what is your name?” The spirit remained silent, simply staring at James with an air of bewilderment.
Ariadne decided to step in. “Lord Holt and I really do care. Please tell us your name, so we can feel we have come to know you and can remember you in our prayers and our thoughts.”
“My name is Margaret.”
Ariadne smiled encouragingly at her. “I am Ariadne. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
Margaret gave her a shy smile as she said, “Ariadne is a very unusual name, is it not?”
“My moth
er named me after the character of a Greek myth. Ariadne was the daughter of King Minos.” She paused, feeling very aware of James’s presence next to her. “She was very much in love with Theseus and helped him to escape from the Labyrinth and Minotaur her father had set up for him.”
Margaret appeared spell-bound by the tale. “What happened to her?”
Ariadne winced. The tale didn’t have a happy ending since Theseus had ultimately abandoned her namesake. Seeing Margaret’s look of hope, she just couldn’t bear to dash her happiness. “Well, she left with Theseus and they sailed off together. My mother named me after this Greek heroine because she wanted me to be able to find my way out of any problem that could present itself.”
Margaret nodded. “That is the lot of we servants, always caring for the problems of others. We clean and we mend and we take care of the nobility. All day, every day, is devoted to them.”
“Not for you any longer, Margaret,” Ariadne said softly. “You are free.”
“I will not forget the story you have told us. As lord of this estate, I will make sure that no woman will ever be mistreated. Not even by her husband.” James’s commanding voice made it clear that he would made short shrift of anyone who opposed him.
Ariadne’s eyebrows arched in surprise. Husbands held the ultimate authority over their wives; she had never heard of any lord interfering on a woman’s behalf. She wasn’t even sure if the laws would allow it. Looking at James’s set face, however, Ariadne sensed he would not allow the law to interfere with doing what he thought was right.
Margaret’s entire figure seemed to flicker for a moment, and she placed one hand against her heart. “I suddenly feel very light.”
“It is all right if you have to depart. You will leave behind two people who will remember you, Margaret.”
Margaret’s silhouette suddenly flashed brightly then was gone. Silence reigned in the ballroom as James and Ariadne faced each other; the dying candles sputtered and tossed out eerie shadows across the walls.
Ariadne stared at him, her throat still aching with unshed tears and regret, regret for her deception, regret for Margaret’s wasted life and lost love, regret that she would never be James’s helpmate. She willed him to say something, anything, to tell her he understood. He said nothing. Unable to face James’s condemnation, Ariadne fled the ballroom. Once in her room, she quickly swept as many of her belongs as possible into a small valise.
Clutching her satchel in her left hand, Ariadne trudged toward the stable. With each step that took her away from James, the satchel seemed to grow heavier, and her heart throbbed painfully in her chest. Why couldn’t she have just trusted him? Why did she have to lose everything that mattered in her life? Because he was her everything, she realized now too late.
“Ariadne!”
She stumbled to a halt just inside the stable doors. Scarcely daring to believe James had followed her out, she stood very still, waiting for his next words.
“Ariadne, wait. You cannot leave here.”
“I lied to you, James. You couldn’t even speak to me once you found out. There is not a nobleman in England who would blame you, either. Aristocrats don’t marry servants.”
“Of course I was surprised when I found out. I would have preferred that you tell me.” James hitched a shoulder against the stableroom door and gazed at a stallion munching on a piece of straw. “I felt most betrayed, though, by my forefathers. It seems I will be forever haunted by their misdeeds. How much longer must I atone for their sins?”
“You cannot atone for something that was not your doing, James. That is an impossible task. We can only control ourselves.”
James nodded, seeming to take some comfort from her words. He drifted away from the door and approached her with the air of a man uncertain of his welcome. “You know who I am. I have not the flowery phases of a lover. I cannot recite poetry or sing ballads in your honor. All I can do is to promise you that I will love, honor, and respect you all the days of our lives together.”
“But I deceived you,” Ariadne whispered.
“I understand better than most the sacrifices we must make for the ones we love. You were protecting your mother.”
Ariadne shook her head. “We’re too different. We come from entirely different worlds. I am a servant; you are a lord. Look what happened to the spirit—I mean to Margaret. Perhaps classes aren’t meant to mingle.”
“My ancestor was a bastard,” James said flatly. “I am not like he was. Of course, I am upset that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. But Ariadne, I have never for an instant believed you were beneath me. Servant or not, you are my equal.”
When Ariadne remained silent, he closed the remaining space between their bodies and tipped her chin up. “Look at me, Ariadne. What you see is a desperate man.” In a teasing voice, he added, “If I must, I am willing to compromise you so we can be together. I love you, and I am willing to do anything to show you.”
Ariadne swallowed hard, unable to speak as a great happiness surged through her body. He loved her; James loved her. “Actually, I would compromise you,” Ariadne said, allowing a shy smile to soften her features. Some tension flowed out of her body as James smiled in return. “It would, of course, be a terrible debacle since I wouldn’t have the slightest idea what I’m doing, but I would make my best effort.” Throwing all her caution to the wind, she added, “And I love you too.”
“I am sure I would be completely at your mercy. Leaving aside your teasing words, Ariadne, you should know I am not patient enough to wait for our banns to be called. I’ve sent Woods to procure a common license. I am hoping that once the license is here, you will agree to marry me within the week.”
A small laugh bubbled up within Ariadne, reflecting the elation sweeping through her heart. “A week? Surely you cannot expect me to wait a full week.”
“I loathe waiting as well,” James said. He pulled her to him in a rough embrace. He let out a husky sigh as Ariadne permitted herself to melt against him. “But you will be well worth the wait, my lovely viscountess.”
Ariadne tipped her head back for another lingering kiss. The slow flame she had felt in the field erupted into a scorching heat. She clutched his hair and moaned as he buried his head in the crook of her neck and traced a series of scalding kisses against the soft skin. She groaned in disappointment as he broke their fevered embrace.
“Ariadne, love, look at me. I am not a proper gentleman, as you well know, but even I recoil against the thought of taking my innocent fiancé in a stable. You deserve a soft bed, candlelight, flowers.”
“You were willing to compromise me just a few short minutes ago when you weren’t sure if I would marry you,” Ariadne protested. “Now I have promised to marry you, and you become skittish.”
“I am no longer desperate for you to agree to become my bride,” James said. “You have given me your word that you will be mine in just one more week. There is one thing, though.” Ariadne remained silent and waited for him to continue. “You have worked for so many years, love. I am sorry you have had to work so hard to take care of yourself and of the people you love. I must warn you, if you stay with me, there will only be more work ahead of you. I want something better for you, a life of pampering and leisure.” He spread his hands out. “We will visit London as needed so I can take my place in the House of Lords, but this is my home. There is where I am needed.”
“I only want you, James. What would I do with so much leisure time at my disposal? Indeed, there is only one thing that I want right now.” She wound her arms around his neck then stifled a longing sigh as she detected the faint pleading in his eyes. He wanted to honor her as his bride, and she needed to let him. They had waited the past few weeks; what was another few days? “I will set you free for now,” she said in a begrudging voice, “but I expect you will make it up to me on our wedding night.”
“I will most assiduously attend to you, my lady.”
They walked hand in hand from the
stables. Ariadne rested her head against James’s arm, smiling as she felt the muscles contracting under his shirt.
An excited clamoring of voices greeted them as they reached the front steps. “My lord, you will never believe it.”
“So much for the spirit leaving us in peace.”
“It matters not to me,” Ariadne said, tightening her grip on James’s hand. “We will face her together.”
Sir Banbury was standing near Lady Holt in the entryway, and they both rushed forward when they spied Ariadne and James approaching. “My dears, the most extraordinary, fantastical thing has happened.” Mrs. Alton was coming down the stairs, and she exchanged puzzled glances with Ariadne as they all moved toward the kitchen. Ariadne gasped in astonishment as she viewed a gaping hole in the wall where the portrait had gone mysteriously blank just a few days before.
An aged elm travelling trunk sat on the marble floor. Ariadne pressed a hand against her mouth, her eyes widening as she glimpsed the contents. A profusion of jewels gleamed from the cavernous space of the trunk.
“The Holt jewels. The spirit must have concealed them all this time,” James said with awe.
Lady Holt nodded. “Yes, it was hidden in the wall behind the mahogany console. One of the servants walked by and realized that someone, presumably the spirit, had moved it, and he could plainly see a large X painted on the wall. I had a footman bring a hatchet, and we made short shrift of tearing through the wall. Apparently, the spirit, perhaps before she died, had hidden the chest behind the wall. Before she left, she ensured that the treasure was restored to its rightful owners.
Ariadne wound her hands around James’s arm. “James, how wonderful. You now have all the money you need to help your tenants and restore the estate.”
“Our tenants and our estate,” James said, disengaging Ariadne’s hands from his arm and wrapping one massive arm around her shoulders.
