The Midnight Hour: All-Hallows’ Brides

by Kathryn Le Veque, Meara Platt, Scarlett Scott, Mary Lancaster, Maggi Andersen, Chasity Bowlin, Sydney Jane Baily, Violetta Rand

  Eleanor pondered a moment. “If that is the case, and you truly wish for the truth to remain hidden away for now, why not write your message on a piece of paper and set it aside with instructions for it to be read upon your passing.”

  There, that seemed a sensible notion. Eleanor was pleased with herself for thinking of it.

  “I can’t write,” the woman explained, a small catch in her voice betraying her emotion. “Nor read, of course. I have no way of documenting what I want to tell Gray after I’m gone.”

  Drats! Eleanor hadn’t considered that.

  “However, I have thought about doing exactly what you’re suggesting, creating a last testament, except instead of worldly possessions to give him, I have only my secret. I merely need someone to write it for me.”

  She gave Eleanor a beseeching look and a plaintive smile.

  “But you’re young yet,” Eleanor protested, not thinking herself the correct vessel for Mrs. O’Connor’s confidences. “Moreover, if there is something important you want to impart, surely it would be better for you to do so while your son can still speak with you about it. Perhaps he’ll have questions.”

  “I can put all the answers on the page better than I can say them.” Her voice had fallen to a whisper. “While I’m still here and can look in his eyes, I don’t want him to blame me, nor do I want him to do anything rash.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Truly, you think your secret might incite him to rash action?”

  “My Gray is a good man,” she repeated, then fell silent a moment as Eleanor waited. “I think you agree with me on this.”

  They locked gazes, until Eleanor, not wishing to lie, simply nodded. After all, there could be no harm in letting Grayson’s mother know she thought her son to be the most appealing man in the world.

  “When learning the truth, he might behave strangely or out of character, at least until he settles in with it.” Mrs. O’Connor added. “He might be angry or feel jealous.”

  Settle in with it? Eleanor thought that a strange way of discussing the truth.

  Moreover, she could hardly imagine anything causing Grayson to be angry or jealous. However, this wasn’t a riddle for an evening’s entertainment. This was something serious, and Eleanor wished she could ask Jenny or Maggie or her own mother what to do.

  “Very well,” she said at last. “If you think you cannot tell him, I’ll write down whatever you wish.”

  “You will have to swear to keep it secret and never tell a living soul.”

  When his mother said it like that, it sounded ominous. Eleanor obviously couldn’t tell a dead soul. And what of Grayson? They were forming a wonderful bond. She felt closer to him every day. Her youthful obsession with the handsome man had blossomed into genuine feelings of…love.

  Dare she say the words, even to herself? I love him.

  How could she swear to withhold an important secret from him, only to reveal on his mother’s deathbed that she knew it all along?

  “I can see you’re struggling with this,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “And it’s because you have feelings for my boy. I can see it on your face when you look at him. And it’s plain to see he cares for you, as well.”

  His mother sighed. “Since the day he was born, I have kept this from him. I know how hard it is to lie to one you love with all your heart. I won’t ask it of you.”

  “Then what shall we do?” Eleanor felt desperately torn. She wanted to help Mrs. O’Connor, who looked all but crushed. And curiosity burned in her to know the dreadful secret but not at the expense of her own peace of mind. For once she learned it, she wouldn’t be able to look Grayson in the eyes without feeling guilty.

  No, she must not be told, Eleanor decided. She wasn’t strong enough to carry such a burden without blurting it out to him at some point.

  Then, all at once, an idea hit her.

  “I could teach you to write.”

  “Never,” Mrs. O’Connor said. Then the next instant, she asked, “Could you?”

  “Yes, why not?” Eleanor clapped her hands with excitement. “You simply need to keep your spectacles handy.”

  She was rewarded with a smile. “If I could get the words on paper, then I would feel as if I’d done my duty as his mother.”

  Almost wanting to cry with relief, Eleanor watched as Grayson’s mother warmed to the idea. Nodding to herself, Mrs. O’Connor said, “I think I could do this.”

  “Why, positively you can! We shall start at once. We need only some paper and a pen. And maybe a few books so you see how words work. I shall go to Lord Angsley’s library and get everything we need.”

  She rose and hurried to the door when Mrs. O’Connor stopped her.

  “I understand you’ve had word from the Earl of Cambrey. Your sister is doing better, isn’t she?”

  “Yes, she is. I shall be….Oh.” Eleanor realized the problem. “I shall be leaving soon. I was supposed to go today. We delayed leaving because Grayson and I had a picnic planned but for the rain.”

  Mrs. O’Connor nodded, looking a little crestfallen. “I suppose we shall have to wait until the next time Miss Beryl returns and you come to visit her.”

  Eleanor frowned. She hated to let Grayson’s mother down. This was important, perhaps one of the truly useful things she’d ever been called upon to do in her young life.

  “My sister is not ill and never was, so there is no rush for me to be by her side. She is carrying a child, as it turns out. If the Angsleys don’t mind my staying, then I shall teach you.”

  “Oh dear,” Mrs. O’Connor said, looking uncertain.

  “Truly, it is no trouble. We shall start by having you practice writing individual letters. Then I am confident within a few days, maybe a week, I can teach you enough to sound out your words so you can write something legible, though most likely not perfect.”

  “I am only concerned what you will tell the lord and lady. I never brought up not being able to read and write. No one ever asked, and I never needed such skills. I wouldn’t want them to think I haven’t got a brain in my head.”

  “You have made lace,” she reminded Grayson’s mother, “and hundreds of dresses, which undeniably fit her ladyship and the other Angsley girls perfectly.”

  “Yes,” she said, looking surer of herself. Then she frowned. “Still, it wouldn’t do for them to think you’ve stayed here for my sake.”

  “Do not worry. I won’t embarrass you. I’ll think of something. Are you ready to start today?”

  Mrs. O’Connor stood and closed the few steps between them. “Yes, I am.” Then she hugged her “And I thank you, Miss Eleanor. Truly, I do. I’m glad you and my boy have feelings for one another.”

  Eleanor couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat, so she nodded and slipped out the door.

  Grayson was half reading, half watching out of the back windows of the morning room, awaiting Eleanor’s return. When he finally saw her dashing across the lawn in the rain, he intercepted her at the terrace before ushering her inside and taking her wet cloak and the umbrella from her.

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yes,” she said, but she didn’t look him in the eyes.

  “What did my mother want to speak with you about?”

  Eleanor shrugged, before sitting and taking a long time to remove her Wellington boots. Her slippers were beneath the seat where she had left them.

  For a moment, he got to see her stockinged feet, and in that brief time, his brain seemed to empty of thought. He watched her slip each of her slender feet into a cream-colored kidskin shoe, useless for anything except staying indoors.

  From what he could see, her feet were shaped perfectly, with a delicate arch to the underside, which his fingers itched to stroke.

  The thought of seeing those same feet unclothed and of touching her sweet toes enflamed him as much as watching one of his London ladies remove her entire corset.

  “Grayson?”

  He was still staring at her soft shoes when her voice brough
t his gaze upward. She was now standing.

  “Have you seen Lady Angsley? Is she on this floor?”

  “I think she is with Phoebe in her ladyship’s upstairs sitting room,” he told her.

  “Thank you. I will see you later. It is nearly time for lunch, isn’t it?”

  She smiled at him and walked down the hall toward the main staircase.

  “Eleanor,” he called after her.

  She paused and turned to him.

  “My mother?”

  “Oh, she is fine. We just had a cup of gossip-water. You know how women can be. Interestingly enough, she already knew about the missive from Turvey House. Perhaps a bird told her, a tall, butler-shaped bird.”

  “Indeed. Are we going to…to do something together?” He cringed at his own lame question. What a dunce, he sounded! But she seemed preoccupied and a little indifferent.

  “Yes,” she said, and his misgiving lifted. “Later.”

  With that, she left him. Later? When?

  Unfortunately, at the midday meal, his favorite female was absent.

  “Where is Eleanor?” he asked to one and all.

  Lady Angsley answered since her husband was preparing for a visit to London. The queen summoned Lord Angsley at a moment’s notice when she needed her Spanish ambassador, and apparently, she needed him the next day.

  “Eleanor is at the granary lodge.”

  “No,” he corrected her, “she went there earlier.”

  Lady Angsley nodded and sipped her tea. “She’s there again, as far as I know.”

  What on earth was going on at the lodge? He was going to get to the bottom of it as soon as he finished his meal.

  Unfortunately, he had to wait for her ladyship and the others to finish, too, as without Lord Angsley present, and with no real reason for abandoning the table, it would have been terribly rude for him to make himself scarce. It wasn’t like at breakfast, when everyone was loosey-goosey.

  Cooling his heels, letting his mind wander as he drank a cold glass of ale and idly pushed the remainder of a potato around his plate on the end of his fork, Gray considered how Mr. Stanley had gone to his mother’s and given her the news from Turvey House.

  Had that been the butler’s main purpose for visiting her? And why? What about the day before when he’d caught them in close quarters talking in the front hall?

  When he finally got out of the dining room, he was going to get some answers.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eleanor looked on proudly as Mrs. O’Connor copied the twenty-six letters before her. She thought the best place to start was with practicing writing them, even if they were mysterious symbols. They were as puzzling to Grayson’s mother as Captain Kidd’s puzzle had first been to her.

  After Eleanor had spoken privately to Lady Angsley, telling her as little as possible, she had returned to the lodge with her supplies. Luckily, Lord Angsley had been in his private study preparing for a trip, making it easy for Eleanor to enter the library and secure some paper, pens, and books.

  It had been a little more difficult to avoid Grayson, but doing so was a must, for he would be full of questions.

  To that deceitful end, Eleanor told Asher how Mr. O’Connor enjoyed a good ride, especially on a cloudy day, sending the boy to find him. Since the rain had let up, she had no doubt he would indulge the young Angsley lad.

  While Eleanor had started her lesson with letters and sounds, she and Mrs. O’Connor had eaten a light repast. Around some thickly sliced bread and butter, cheese, and pickled onions, she’d pointed to letters in a book, before writing them in alphabetical order on the paper.

  With Mrs. O’Connor having copied and re-copied the letters thrice, they were ready to sound out vowels. In another half hour, the woman had also written to, as, and no.

  Perhaps not the most useful words to start with, Eleanor thought. Then she recalled the most used word, the, and explained about the “th” sound.

  Mrs. O’Connor dutifully wrote the.

  “You’re doing very well,” Eleanor praised. It was easier than she’d anticipated. Certainly, nothing like teaching a child who had so many other things to learn. Grayson’s mother could focus and had a sharp memory.

  “Let me know when you grow weary,” Eleanor told her.

  “I’m too excited to be tired,” Mrs. O’Connor exclaimed. “I know you said there are double vowel words, too, with o’s and u’s put together, but I think I would like to stick to the simpler spellings today.”

  Eleanor agreed with her, and they continued sounding out such words as hat, cat, dog, and even plate with its tricky silent e. Then she realized how difficult English truly was when she considered explaining how many ways a y could be spoken, and how many other letters, especially in combination, such as ee and ie, could sound exactly the same. And then there was the puzzling word you.

  Undeniably, it would be easier if she knew the nature of the secret, for then she could teach Mrs. O’Connor those words in particular. Of course, that would defeat the whole purpose of Eleanor not learning the woman’s private business, nor having to hide it from Grayson.

  A knock at the door followed by the rattling of the handle brought them both to their feet. They had planned for this. Firstly, they had locked the door, something Mrs. O’Connor normally only did at night. Secondly, Eleanor was prepared to snatch up the two books and papers she’d brought and run into the other room to shove them under the bed.

  At the same time, Grayson’s mother unfolded a complicated lace piece she hadn’t worked on for years and, as Eleanor returned to her seat, Mrs. O’Connor had laid it across the table and was already unlocking the door.

  “Hello, my boy. I don’t know how that got locked.” Mrs. O’Connor was the embodiment of calm, answering his unspoken question even as he greeted them both.

  Seeing Grayson’s concerned expression, however, caused Eleanor to feel quite the opposite. Instead of placid, she was anxious. She would have to pretend to be doing lacework, and she feared if he looked deeply into her eyes, he would see her deception.

  “How was your ride?” she asked to break the silence.

  Instantly, she knew she’d said the wrong thing.

  “How did you know I went riding?”

  She would have to start prevaricating immediately, something she loathed doing, especially with Grayson.

  “I saw you through the window. Weren’t you with another rider?”

  “Yes,” he said, still looking at her strangely. “With Asher. The boy is a natural horseman.”

  When she did nothing more than offer him a smile, Grayson seemed to relax. He took a seat as his mother cleaned up “their little project,” as she called it, and put on the kettle for tea.

  Luckily, Eleanor didn’t have to figure out a single strand of weaving lace. She relaxed then, too, and listened to Grayson tell them where he took Asher and how he taught the boy to canter evenly and levelly.

  Mrs. O’Connor brought out the tin of biscuits.

  “We should discuss when you want to leave,” Grayson said, “and give Lady Angsley some notice. Lord Angsley leaves tomorrow. Perhaps we should do the same.”

  Surprised, as Eleanor thought he would want to stay as long as possible in order to see their treasure hunt through to the end, she glanced at Mrs. O’Connor.

  The woman’s face was emotionless as they’d already discussed this very matter. Indeed, Eleanor had talked with Lady Angsley earlier about an extended stay while she worked on something with Grayson’s mother. When her ladyship had pressed the matter, Eleanor had told a small lie about wanting to learn to make lace as a present for her own mother.

  Dear God, don’t punish me for lying, she prayed, though she knew in her bones it was a sin.

  Lady Angsley, a little nonplussed but agreeable all the same, approved the extended stay at once.

  “I would very much like to stay longer,” Eleanor told Grayson. “Your mother and I were just getting started.”

  He stared at t
he pile of lace on the chair. Then he frowned. “I thought you hated needle work.”

  Eleanor opened her mouth, then closed it. This was the problem with lying, she thought. One eventually got caught.

  “Making lace is not needle work, my boy,” Mrs. O’Connor said with conviction, as if he were a dunce to confuse the two.

  “In any case,” Eleanor added, “we can try our picnic again in the morning, perhaps?”

  “Very well.” He winked at her, apparently pleased to have another day for their adventure if the weather cooperated. Then he twisted his mouth with displeasure.

  “Mum, I think we should get some biscuits from the Angsleys’ new cook. These are inferior to anything they have at the hall.”

  “Bring me some next time, then,” Mrs. O’Connor said. “You are a wonderful son.”

  The next morning was sunny, and Eleanor rejoiced as she tossed the covers back and hurried to dress. She knew Grayson would be ready and waiting.

  “There’s my adventurous girl,” he said as she hurried into the library. “I can’t think many females would be eager to jump up early out of a soft bed for an outdoor adventure.”

  Warming down to her toes at his praise, she said, “More than you think, I would warrant.”

  In truth, though, she didn’t know any other women who quite enjoyed the natural world as she did, nor who would grow gleeful over climbing a rock.

  “I have only encountered those who wouldn’t dare get their dresses torn or dirty,” Grayson confessed, “or their gloves soiled or their hair knotted, for that matter.”

  Eleanor knew those women. They were the ones during the Season who never had a hair out of place, not even at a boating event. They were too perfect.

  But she was the one standing next to the deliciously handsome Grayson O’Connor!

  She beamed at him.

  “Do you have our supplies?”

  “Yes, nearby,” he said, tucking one of her errant locks behind her ear. She shivered at his touch. “And the picnic?” he asked.

  She hadn’t ordered one from the kitchen staff the night before in case it had turned into another day of rain.