The Ghost and Lady Alice

by Marion Chesney

  Well, this is what he had wanted for the girl. She was only a scullery maid and now she was marrying a Lord. She had done very well for herself.

  He turned his concentration wholly on his memoirs, becoming so absorbed that he even forgot to eat. He put aside his manuscript with a sigh and looked at the clock on the mantle. Nearly dawn. He had not much of a life in summer, he reflected wryly.

  And then, quite clearly, like a bell in his brain, he heard her calling him, heard Alice calling for help.

  He started to his feet—and groaned. A glimmer of livid gray was spreading along the horizon. He could do nothing until night came again.

  When he awoke the next evening, or came to, or materialized—he was never quite sure how to describe the phenomenon of his rebirth to himself—he did not at first remember Alice, but was instantly plagued with a nagging feeling of unease. Then his eye fell on the newspaper, still lying on the table, and he remembered. Alice. Engagement. Her cry for help.

  The Duke quickly dressed in evening clothes, missing for the first time, Jamieson, his valet of the old days who could surely have dealt with all these difficult, modern styles of hairdressing. “It was easier in my day,” he mused. “I could simply wear a wig. Of course, many still do, but I was never démodé in my time, and I do not intend to be in this.”

  As he floated swiftly over the countryside, his fears for Alice had begun to recede. He should not have left her alone so soon. She had probably found it extremely difficult to accustom herself to society. Perhaps she had forgotten her French accent.

  When he arrived at Alice's house it was to be met with the intelligence that Alice and Miss Snapper were visiting Webb's parents’ home. Webb's parents were the Earl and Countess of Markhampton. Their home lay a few miles outside Tunbridge Wells.

  The Duke was thankful that he had passed his early days since he had left Alice, traveling extensively over the countryside. He had become adept at finding his way about the sky and espying familiar landmarks on the ground at night, particularly on a fine starry night like this one.

  The black, straggly mass of the town of Tunbridge Wells was soon reached and then he veered east, searching for Runley Manor, Webb's parents’ home.

  At long last he found himself above it. He wondered if they kept country hours but, as he sank lower, he saw that the windows of the Manor were ablaze with lights and there seemed to be a ball in progress in a great room on the ground floor.

  The long windows were open to the night air. He floated gently down and stood on the shaven grass of the lawn. He decided to watch Alice first. He did not want to startle her by approaching her. He moved quietly up the terrace steps and eased himself through the windows, standing partly concealed by the curtain.

  At first he did not recognize her—and then all at once she was almost in front of him. She looked happy and animated although the Duke, putting up his quizzing glass, could not quite believe the fussiness of her dress or the clumsiness of her hairstyle. Alice was dancing with a fresh-faced young man in an ill-fitting suit. They were waltzing and he seemed to be dancing on her toes most of the time, but he looked easy and amiable. The Duke thought this must be Lord Harold Webb. Well, he was not the most elegant of creatures but he looked a good-hearted soul. He would do very well.

  The Duke was torn between leaving immediately now that he had found Alice in good spirits, or staying to give her a lecture on the dowdiness of her dress.

  It was then he noticed the shadows under her eyes and that her eyes themselves were suspiciously puffy.

  He stayed, his bright blue gaze fixed on her every movement. The waltz finished at last and Alice began to promenade with her partner as was the custom. Suddenly, a tall, very handsome man with a rather pompous face came up to Alice accompanied by Miss Snapper. Miss Snapper seemed to say a few short sharp words at which Alice flushed miserably and stared at the floor. Her unresisting hand was taken from her partner's arm and placed by Miss Snapper firmly on that of the handsome young man who led Alice off to the side of the ballroom, talking fiercely in an undertone and, to the Duke's horror, he caught the glint of tears in Alice's eyes.

  It was time to make his appearance. He sauntered across the ballroom floor in Miss Snapper's direction, examining the companion as if for the first time and not liking what he saw.

  Her gown, he noticed, was extremely rich and around her scrawny neck was a ruby necklace which he recognized as having belonged to his late wife.

  “Monsieur Le Comte!” gasped Miss Snapper as the Duke appeared before her. “We had not heard ... did not expect you...”

  Her thin hand flew to the necklace at her throat.

  “Where is this Lord Harold Webb?” said the Duke sternly.

  “Ah, he is flirting with Alice and us old things should not intrude,” said Miss Snapper, flirting horribly with her fan.

  “Madam,” said the Duke awfully, “I am not yet in my dotage although you may be. I find your personal remarks offensive in the extreme. You forget yourself. Pray, present me to my niece this instant.”

  Miss Snapper quailed under his icy gaze. The pleasurable bullying of Alice in which she had so freely indulged was going to be discovered unless she could have a word with Alice first in private and threaten her into silence.

  “Indeed, yes, milord,” she murmured, ducking her head in a nervous gesture. “Pray wait here. I will return with Alice.”

  The Duke stood by the side of the ballroom floor, staring about him with interest. The Earl of Markhampton appeared to be wealthy. The room was decorated with fine silk hangings of green and gold.

  Hundreds of the most expensive scented candles perfumed the air. Hothouse flowers and palms were placed around the perimeter of the floor, and from the supper room came the delectable aroma of good French cooking. He was just thinking that Miss Snapper was taking an unconscionable time about bringing Alice to him when a latecomer entered the ballroom and he raised his quizzing glass and let out a sigh of pure appreciation. A beautiful blonde had entered with her chaperone. Her hair owed all to art but was magnificent for all that. It gleamed like burnished brass in the candlelight and her enameled face was a flawless oval. She had a wicked pair of black eyes, a diaphanous gown which was dampened to the point of indecency and, wonder upon wonders, her toenails were painted gold!

  He straightened his waistcoat and headed purposefully toward her.

  And so it was that Alice, entering the ballroom with Webb anchored firmly to one side and Miss Snapper to the other, saw her “uncle” for the first time since he had left her that winter's night. He was smiling down into the eyes of a bold blonde and seemed to have forgotten the existence of everyone and everything else.

  Miss Snapper gave a malicious titter. “You see how happy your uncle is?” she said. “He is content to leave you in our good care. We have your best interests at heart, Alice. You must tell him you lent me this pretty necklace.”

  “But I didn't!” exclaimed Alice.

  “Say you did,” hissed Miss Snapper. “I know he admired it and he would not like to think you ungenerous to your poor companion. Only vulgar people are cruel and mean.”

  Alice winced. Miss Snapper had found she could get Alice to agree to practically anything provided she told the girl that things were “vulgar.” Alice lived in fear that Miss Snapper would discover her humble origins, not knowing that Miss Snapper merely thought Alice, being French—and who wanted to be French?—was taken up with the idea of becoming the perfect English lady.

  Poor Alice numbly watched the Duke as he flirted outrageously.

  She wanted to run to him and tear him away from that blonde harpy. She wanted to cry to him that she was lonely and hurt and lost, that she had made a terrible mistake, that Webb and Miss Snapper were bullying the life out of her.

  But the heartless ghost philandered on, and at last Alice could bear it no longer and begged to be allowed to retire.

  Miss Snapper and Lord Harold cheerfully agreed. There would be no confront
ation with Alice's uncle that night.

  When Miss Snapper had seen Alice safely to her room, she descended the stair to the ballroom where she found Webb awaiting her.

  “I think, my dear Miss Snapper,” said Webb in measured tones, “that we must plan. Come with me!”

  Her hurt at the Duke's snub abating under the interest of this newfound intrigue, Miss Snapper eagerly followed him.

  He led her into a small anteroom and closed the door. The faint strains of a lilting Scottish reel filtered faintly into the quiet room.

  “I do not think, Miss Snapper,” said Webb pompously, “that our little Alice will be able to refrain from telling her uncle that we have been ... hem ... a trifle rough with her. It was all for her own good but he may not see it that way and may forbid the marriage.”

  “He cannot,” said Miss Snapper eagerly. “Alice told me he had left her papers allowing her to marry whom she chooses.”

  “Well, she may use his support to cancel the engagement. Alice has not been happy of late,” said Webb. He spoke the truth. His daily hectoring criticism had reduced Alice to a quaking wreck. But Webb found Alice, shaking and frightened, infinitely exciting and did not want her any other way.

  Miss Snapper lowered her eyes. “It could be, mayhap, that he might find it necessary to give his blessing to the marriage...”

  “You mean? ... She will not allow me intimacies and it did not seem to me necessary to press my suit since we are shortly to be wed.”

  Miss Snapper fidgeted with the lace of her mittens. “There are ways it could be achieved.”

  The reel finished with a crashing chord and the faint murmur of voices permeated the room and Lord Harold looked down at the companion with an unpleasant smile on his face.

  “You hate her, don't you?” he said.

  Miss Snapper raised her black eyes to the ceiling. “As God is my witness, my lord, I have only the girl's best interests at heart.”

  “Oh whatever way you want it,” he sneered. “How is this seduction to be achieved without her screaming the place down?”

  “I never said...”

  “Oh, yes you did in your own sweet way. Stow the hypocrisy.”

  Miss Snapper cast down her eyes again. Her hand flew nervously to the jewels at her neck. She had been feathering her nest very well and unless she quickly swallowed her pride, then Alice might escape.

  “She has not been sleeping well,” she said. “Some chloral in her milk...”

  “Do it now,” he said urgently, “I'll carry her to my bed and you tell ... No, that will not answer. My servants will pretend to be shocked and will tell Alice's uncle that she is abed with me. You keep to your own quarters. Quickly.”

  Alice was tossing and turning on her bed when Miss Snapper crept into the room, a glass of hot milk in her hand. Alice was tormented by thoughts of the Duke holding that blonde hussy in his arms.

  She had longed for him and dreamed of seeing him again through the long, lonely months and he had not even a thought to spare for her. Not that she was in love with him! That was ridiculous. She had looked on him as a sort of father or as the uncle he pretended to be. He was not kind. He was heartless. A philandering phantom who did not know that fair hair was desperately unfashionable. Alice looked up and found Miss Snapper bending over her and cringed against the pillows.

  “Here is something to help you sleep,” murmured Miss Snapper in a soothing voice.

  “Milk,” said Alice wretchedly. “I do not want milk.”

  “But it will help you sleep,” urged Miss Snapper.

  Sleep! Alice realized that was what she longed for more than anything. To die, to sleep, to blot out the wicked world and its bullies for a few hours.

  She drank the milk while Miss Snapper watched her with satisfaction.

  In the shadows in the corner of the room, the Duke watched also. He had been hidden in the walls of the anteroom where Miss Snapper and Webb had had their enlightening conversation.

  He watched grimly as Alice collapsed quickly into a deep drugged sleep, watched as Miss Snapper signaled to someone unseen in the corridor, and then Webb entered and picked up Alice's slim body and carried her from the room.

  The Duke quickly slid down through the floor and placed himself in a prominent position in the hall where the last of the guests were leaving. Miss Snapper, meanwhile, retired quickly to her own modest room. Some thoughtful servant had left a glass of warm milk by her bed. Miss Snapper gave a thin smile. It wasn't drugged anyway. She picked it up and drank it down in one gulp and began to prepare herself for bed.

  In his room, Webb placed Alice in his bed and slowly began to undress. The stage was set. By now his valet should be informing Alice's uncle of his niece's disgrace.

  “What!” yelled the Duke in a great voice so that a few of the last guests and the Earl and Countess of Markhampton turned round in surprise. “My niece in bed with Lord Harold Webb! Is this what you encourage in your house?” he demanded of the Earl. “Seduction of innocent virgins?”

  Without waiting to see the effect of his words, the Duke began to rapidly mount the stairs. The Earl and his guests hurried after, but as they reached the first landing, the Duke had mysteriously disappeared.

  “Monsieur Le Comte moves quickly,” said the Earl in surprise. He had been apprised of the identity of his new guest. “Nonetheless, I must find out the truth of this matter. My Harold would never do such a thing. It will all turn out to be a hum, mark my words!”

  He hurried on with his wife behind him and his guests pressed close behind.

  Lord Harold Webb heard the rumpus coming along the corridor and smiled. It was just as well he wanted to be discovered, he reflected smugly, or he would have had time to make things respectable long before they appeared. The room was in total darkness. Well, might as well get as much fun as possible. Alice was, after all, lying next to him. He thought of the feel of her warm body through the thin material of her nightgown when he had carried her to his bed and his pulses began to race.

  He pulled the unconscious female body close to his own naked one, throwing the covers back first so that when Uncle Gervase burst in, he should have the maximum view.

  He searched for the mouth beneath his in the dark. Just before the Earl and his party burst into the room, Lord Harold Webb was conscious of two bewildering physical sensations. Alice's mouth, instead of soft and childlike as he remembered, was hard and thin. And he had noticed she had lost weight of late, but never would have believed she could have possessed so many hard sharp bones.

  Also just before the door opened, a branch of candles on the mantleshelf immediately sprang into flame as if by magic showing the stern and hard profile of Alice's Uncle Gervase. He was standing by the fireplace, looking toward the door.

  “Good God!” cried the Earl bursting into the room, “Oh, Harold, my son, what have you done?”

  The guests crowded into the room behind him.

  “This lady is my fiancée,” said Harold, sitting up in bed with great unconcern. “I do not think we have done anything vastly wrong.”

  Then came the mocking voice of Uncle Gervase. “Alas! My poor Alice! To be cut out by a spinster.”

  Harold stared at the Duke who had turned and was lighting another branch of candles. He had a sudden sick feeling of dread. He turned slowly and looked down at the face lying on the pillow next to him.

  Miss Snapper was lying, snoring. Her mouth was slightly open showing a glint of little, sharp teeth.

  “There has been some terrible mistake,” babbled Harold, pulling the bedclothes hurriedly about his naked body.

  Now, the Duke had made sure that the drug he had put in Miss Snapper's milk was not very strong.

  Under Lord Harold's horrified gaze, she slowly came awake. Her dazed eyes stared up into Webb's. Then she looked at the Earl and his guests, then at the Duke. And then she began to scream and scream and scream.

  FIVE

  Alice was alone in her drawing room in Manchester Sq
uare. She was lying on the sofa with her head buried in a new novel. She was completely and blissfully alone. No Miss Snapper. No sharp voices reprimanding her.

  She was wearing a pretty sarsenet dress with a dozen flounces at the hem caught up in scallops. It had little puff sleeves and was fastened down the front with a row of little raised buttons. Her hair rioted about her head in artistic disorder. She had a little color in her cheeks. Her feet were comfortably encased in beaded slippers.

  Alice put down her book and stared out at the fading light. She would not have much longer to wait.

  It was two days since the ball, two whole days since the Duke had cleverly terminated her engagement to Webb.

  Alice smiled as she remembered the uproar which had greeted her when she had descended the stairs the next day.

  The Earl of Markhampton was as pompous as his son, but for once that pomposity had been deflated. He had told her in hushed tones of the disgrace of his son. Harold, he had said, would have to marry Miss Snapper. She was a gentlewoman and had been compromised under his roof. Alice's uncle had left instructions that neither of the guilty couple was to approach his niece and that she was to pack her bags and return to London forthwith.

  Alice, who did not yet know of the plot against her, could only assume that Webb had been nursing a secret passion for Miss Snapper all along. She did not know how miserable and trapped that young man now felt.

  Neither Webb nor Miss Snapper could admit that it had been Alice who was supposed to be lying in his lordship's bed. But to Webb's horror, Miss Snapper, after she had recovered from her original screaming shock, had abruptly changed and had become the outraged maiden mixed with the coy virgin. For Miss Snapper's agile mind had quickly grasped the idea of an advantageous marriage. She was impoverished, but of good family.

  Unaware of all this, Alice had listened gravely to the Earl's apologies and had quietly gone away to order her servants to make ready to depart as soon as possible. She found it hard to conceal her joy.

  On her first night home, the Duke had briefly appeared. He had been formal and aloof, only remaining long enough to tell her he was going to advertise for another companion. Alice had tried to protest but he had answered sternly that she could not live alone.