Sandra Heath

by The Haunting of Henrietta

  Henrietta’s curiosity was aroused as she watched his face. “What is it? What are you thinking?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing really. Just a ball with a mind of its own.”

  “What do you mean?” She came to stand opposite him across the table.

  “It was most curious, almost as if it were being patted by something,” he murmured, taking another ball and rolling it over the baize.

  Curious? Ghostly, more like, she thought.

  “That same night I first heard the invisible dog,” Marcus recalled.

  Henrietta looked quickly away.

  He studied her shrewdly. “Come clean, Henrietta. Charlotte told me you not only heard the dog at the ball, but saw both it and its master and mistress too.”

  Henrietta was dismayed. “I asked Charlotte not to tell anyone.”

  “She let something slip, and I caught on it. Don’t blame her. Anyway, why so secretive? If you saw what you claimed ...”

  “Oh, I saw it.” And much, much more besides ...”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, beyond what you’ve already learned from Charlotte.”

  “Really? Come now, Henrietta.”

  She couldn’t meet his eyes.

  He smiled a little. “You see ghosts, don’t you? I wish I’d known before.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I would have told you of the things that have happened to me since arriving here.”

  Henrietta was taken aback. “What things?”

  “Well, there was the dog, of course, including the fact that I could swear I heard it on the ceiling, not the floor. But then, from what you saw at the ballroom, the creature is no respecter of gravity.” He rolled another ball across the table. “Then there was the self-propelling billiard ball. I have little doubt that it was actually being helped along by the same ghostly dog, which must have been sitting exactly there.” He picked up a cue that lay on the baize and tapped the table apron with it.

  Henrietta could imagine Rowley playing with the ball. She lowered her glance as she wondered where Jane’s beloved little dog had gone. Had the bogle done away with him? Oh, how she hoped not, for Rowley’s sake, and for Jane and Kit’s.

  Marcus’ eyes were upon her again. “When I first stepped ashore here on the night of the ball, I had the oddest feeling someone was standing right behind me, but there was no one there. And tonight, when I was pouring the cognac, I could have sworn someone spoke. None of this surprises you, does it? You accept it all.”

  “As a child I saw things no one else did, so yes, I do accept it all.”

  He leaned his hands upon the table. “Pieces of jewelry that drop out of thin air would strike no alarm through you, would they? Because you would see it for ghostly work.”

  “Maybe.”

  “I’m led to believe that Jane Courtenay and Kit Fitzpaine are our doubles. Is that so?”

  “Yes.”

  He smiled. “So tell me, Henrietta, how many times have they appeared to you since the night of the ball?”

  Henrietta didn’t want to answer.

  He stepped suddenly over to her and turned her to face him. “Struggling through deep snow and an arctic dawn are inclined to make one exceedingly thoughtful. I’m no longer disposed to believe your tale of how you discovered Amabel’s high treason and her monstrous attempts to murder you. You’ve been receiving a little supernatural assistance, haven’t you? These same two phantoms have enlisted my aid at least twice now, once when Amabel struck you with the candlestick and then again when you were so ill-advised as to ride to St. Tydfa’s before you were fit. I watched you very closely tonight, and I rather fancy we four were not alone in the saloon. Admit it, Henrietta.”

  “Very well, I admit it.”

  He relaxed. “So, Henrietta Courtenay is being haunted. My, one wonders what Sutherton would make of that.”

  “And what, pray, would your newly revealed bride think if she learned of your invisible dogs and flying jewelry?” she countered.

  Jane and Kit were witnessing the entire meeting. After falling asleep themselves in their usual bedroom, they’d awoken and come looking for Henrietta in order to finish what they’d commenced in the grand saloon. Seeing how deep and unrelenting the fresh snow was, and how still and gloomy the day, they’d had good reason to hope Henrietta would be obliged to remain at the abbey, and that accordingly they would have another chance to bring her together with Marcus. However, just as they found her asleep in the conservatory, Marcus had entered as well. They’d hidden amid the greenery, and at the sudden mention of Marcus’ apparent match, Jane gave a sigh. The hidden pages, oh, the hidden pages.

  Marcus smiled in reply to Henrietta’s taunt. “Aren’t you going to ask me who she is, Henrietta?”

  “Her identity is of no interest to me.” She was very conscious of his hands still upon her arms.

  “No? Well, that’s as may be, but I fear the identity of your intended spouse is very much of interest to me. Henrietta, Sutherton isn’t worth the ink of your signature, but you are treasure beyond his wildest dreams! Can’t you see that he is the very last man on earth you should marry?”

  “Let me correct you, sir. You are the very last man on earth I should marry.”

  His hands fell away. “Well, that isn’t about to arise, is it? However, if it were, you would at least have the comfort of knowing I wasn’t marrying you for your fortune.”

  “But you wouldn’t be marrying me for love, either, would you? If, by any wild chance, you did marry me, it would be said that you were doing so in order to swell your already overflowing purse. And that, sir, would make you no better than Lord Sutherton.”

  “You think you know me through and through, don’t you?”

  “Yes, sir, I do.”

  “How wonderful such cleverness must be. Well, I’m about to confound you, madam, by being in a position to ensure you’ll be your cousin’s bridesmaid after all. It seems the excessive cold threatens to freeze the harbor, which means I have to either risk the Avalon becoming icebound and her hull damaged, or I must move her. I’m assured by one of the footmen, whose brother is a fisherman in Mulborough, that there’ll be a breeze of sorts a mile offshore, so I’ve decided to complete my voyage south to Bramnells, with a detour by way of London. I intend to leave at high tide in four hours’ time, and have already signaled the crew. Preparations are underway. The detour would be for you, Henrietta, because with the very proper presence of one of the Mulborough maids to protect your reputation, you are most welcome to take passage with me. Unless, of course, you cannot bring yourself to accept my hospitality.”

  Henrietta didn’t know what to say.

  “Well? I await your answer.”

  Acceptance and refusal struggled together on her lips, but in the end it was the former that won. “I—I gladly accept.”

  “Gladly? I doubt that very much. I trust you do not suffer from seasickness? If you do, be sure to eat before leaving. Better to suffer on a full stomach than an empty one.”

  “I’ve never sailed before, so I don’t know.”

  “Then eat anyway. Be ready to leave as quickly as possible, for it will take some time to reach the quay.” With a curt nod, he turned to go.

  Still hiding amid the greenery, Jane looked at Kit in dismay. “They’re leaving in four hours?” she whispered, tears welling from her lovely eyes. “Oh, this whole wretched haunting has been a disaster! We hoped this renewed snow would give us more time; instead they’re leaving by sea! On top of that, poor Rowley is lost, we’ve encountered a bogle, and the Basilic has appeared! It’s too dreadful. What are we going to do?”

  Without reply, Kit held her close. He couldn’t add anything to what she’d said, because every word was true.

  Marcus still hadn’t left the conservatory. “There is just one thing,” he added, turning. “Our luggage will have to remain here at the abbey. We’ll have to ride down to the quay, and I certainly have no desire to labor w
ith trunks as well. Just pack a single portmanteau.” Inclining his head again, he went out.

  A moment later Henrietta followed, and the ghosts emerged from hiding. Kit took Jane’s hand and led her out on to the snow-swathed terrace. “Beloved, we either have four hours left in which to accomplish something, or we could go with them on the Avalon,” he said quietly.

  Jane’s gaze widened. “Go with them? Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly ...”

  “Do you want to go to heaven?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “Then we have to seize every possible opportunity to make this pair see sense. We know the snow will remain for some time yet, and if we go with them, we will stand a chance of accomplishing our task.”

  “But we’ve just learned that Marcus is going to marry someone else, and we have no idea whether it’s an arranged match or a matter of the heart.”

  “If it is a love match I will be very surprised. Jane, I’m certain he loves Henrietta as much as she loves him, and if we go with them, we’ll be able to use every opportunity to bring them together.”

  Jane glanced toward the sea. “I’m afraid, Kit. You do know what day it is today, don’t you? It’s February twelfth, the very same day that we took passage on the Wessex”

  “I know, but Henrietta is to be taken to London, and the Thames estuary lies well north of the sands, my love. We don’t have to go anywhere near the Goodwins, because we can go ashore in the capital.”

  “Even so ...”

  “I don’t want to spend more years like this, Jane. I’m tired of being in limbo. Let us take our courage—and our convictions— in both hands, and do our damnedest to turn these two stubborn separates into a couple. We can’t do anything for Rowley. Forgive me for saying this, my darling, but we have to face facts. We don’t know where Rowley is. He may still be at the mercy of the bogle, or worse, by now he may have been taken by Old Nick.”

  Jane gave a cry and burst into tears. “Oh, please don’t even think it!”

  “We must hope he is safe somewhere, but in the meantime we must keep trying to complete our task. And that means accompanying Henrietta and Marcus on the Avalon.”

  Jane struggled with her tears, and at last drew a long breath. “You’re right, of course. Very well, let us go with them.”

  Down in the fiery depths of Hades, Old Nick gave an evil chuckle. Their efforts were going to be in vain, for his new weapon would defeat them—and St. Peter—at every turn.

  * * * *

  Rowley was aroused from sleep by the ringing of the bell. It was something to which he had by now become accustomed, but this time it was different. Urgent and more prolonged, and accompanied by much activity. He could hear a swishing sound, as if wood were being brushed, and the thud of boots as men ran to-and-fro. Orders were being shouted and there were rhythmic chants as men hauled upon winches. The spaniel cocked his ears and put his head to one side as he listened. Would someone come at last to give him a chance to escape? As he listened, he gradually became aware of another sound, one that came from much closer by. It was the grunt and whistle of someone snoring. The bogle!

  Rowley’s eyes gleamed with the light of revenge and he crept down the wall, still cocking his ears to pinpoint the bogle’s precise position. Gradually he drew close enough to realize it was sleeping on a pile of sandbags close to the door. Boldly the spaniel approached, his efficient nose first locating the bogle’s feet, then its skinny legs, and finally its surprisingly well-padded posterior, which was providentially turned toward him. Opening his jaws, Rowley did unto the bogle what the bogle was wont to do unto others—he sank his teeth as deeply as he could. With a shriek of pain the manikin awoke, leaped to its feet, and hopped up and down, rubbing its rear.

  The spaniel scuttled triumphantly back to the safety of his high corner and sat there wagging his tail. He suddenly felt better than he had in a long time. Revenge, however small, was very sweet.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  After taking leave of a tearful Charlotte, Henrietta and Marcus set off for Mulborough harbor through the ever deepening snow. They rode the largest horses in the stables, to cope with the difficulty, and were accompanied by Russell. With them went the maid whose presence would protect Henrietta’s reputation. The maid was loath to go, never having left Mulborough in her life, and had no desire to do so now. However, apart from Charlotte’s own maid, who was unwell, she was the only one at the abbey with experience of waiting upon a lady.

  Two invisible figures accompanied the small party, and although Henrietta knew they were there, she did not accord them so much as a glance, let alone a smile. This was because she and the ghosts had had a bitter falling out. Even though she was clearly very upset by Marcus’ wedding revelations, Kit had rather tactlessly persisted in reprimanding her. There had been a heated exchange while she packed her portmanteau, and the wraiths had swept out in high dudgeon. Tempers had cooled a little now, and both sides wished certain things had not been said, but neither was prepared to be the first to back down.

  The small group, visible and invisible, made its arduous way through the heavy snow. The land was white, the trees bowed down with weight, and the winter roar of the river was muffled beneath ice. In Mulborough the smell of smoke hung in the frozen air as fires burned in every hearth, and the scrape of shovels was heard as the determined townsfolk endeavored to keep the streets clear. But the relentless snow continued to fall, with flakes so large and solid they could be heard as they touched. The tide was almost at its height and the water by the quay was thick with ice crystals that chinked and rustled as it washed idly against the steps. The Avalon was hidden from view by the falling snow, but her gig was waiting, the sailors rubbing their hands together to keep warm. Their breath billowed in clouds and they wore rug coats and low-crowned hats with flaps that protected their ears.

  Marcus lifted Henrietta down first. Snow clung to her golden wool cloak and to the frame of curls around her face. In spite of the cloak’s fur trimming and lining and the warm gown she wore beneath it, she still shivered as she watched him help the maid down as well. Then he handed their portmanteaus to the boatswain, Mr. Padstow, who was about forty years old, had a rosy snub-nosed face and wisps of wiry hair that peeped from beneath a warm red woolen hat. Like many sailors, he wore gold earrings in the belief they would aid his eyesight. He had been Marcus’ faithful right hand since being captured by pirates and marooned on a Caribbean island. Death would surely have been his lot had not Marcus seen his signal fire and risked a dangerous reef in order to rescue him.

  Jane was very nervous as she stood on the quay. Oh, how she hated the sea, and now despised it even more since seeing the Basilic again. She gave Kit an apologetic smile. “The last time we did this ...”

  “I know, my darling, I know.”

  “And this time we’re trying to help a disagreeable madam who won’t even do us the courtesy of speaking!” Jane gave Henrietta a dark look.

  “Well, it’s my fault now. I should have realized how upset she was about the existence of Marcus’ bride, and I should have admitted that she was right to point out that the townsmen had seen the signals. My dear, we were simply frightened about the Basilic, and angry that Amabel and the Légère escaped. We vented our wrath on Henrietta, and it wasn’t really fair. If I were her, I’d probably be in a huff too.”

  Jane couldn’t repress a smile. “Well, put that way—”

  “I’m sure we’ll make it up with her soon. In the meantime, let us prepare to go on board.”

  Jane bit her lip and tried to be brave, but someone else in the party did not have such backbone. The maid’s reluctance to leave Mulborough suddenly gained the upper hand. She glanced around at the thickly falling snow, then down at the freezing water, and burst into tears. “I don’t want to go, please don’t make me!” she sobbed.

  Henrietta was horrified to be the cause of such distress. “Oh, please don’t cry, of course you don’t have to come,” she said, trying to comfort the we
eping girl.

  “But—but Lady Mulborough said I must!”

  “I shall manage quite well on my own. You return to the abbey with Lord Mulborough, who will explain to Lady Mulborough that I decided I did not require you after all.” Henrietta gave Russell a meaningful look.

  He dismounted to assist the girl. “I am more than willing to say what you wish, Henrietta, but what of propriety? I mean, you will be alone on board ship with Marcus for several days, and it will not look good in society’s eyes.” He cleared his throat and glanced apologetically at Marcus.

  Henrietta felt her cheeks flush. “It cannot be helped. I must return to London, and this is the only way.”

  Marcus interposed. “Have no fear that your good name will be besmirched, for no one need know you traveled unchaperoned. All that has to be put out is that on arriving the maid went straight to Mulborough House.”

  Russell nodded. “That should do, I fancy. Do you agree, Henrietta?”

  “Yes.”

  Russell assisted the weeping maid on to her horse once more, and then hugged Henrietta farewell. Still ignoring Jane and Kit, Henrietta followed Mr. Padstow down the slippery steps. Jane took a huge breath to steady her nerves, and then clung to Kit’s arm as they followed. It took all her courage to exchange the solid safety of the quay for the swaying uncertainty of the boat, but somehow she managed. The specters squeezed together in the prow, directly behind Henrietta.

  Jane put a ghostly hand on her shoulder. “Henrietta ...”

  Fearing another bitter exchange, Henrietta didn’t respond by so much as a flicker. She had her emotions on the tightest rein imaginable, for in truth she was so wretched over Marcus that she felt like following the maid’s example by bursting into floods of tears! She was also bitterly disappointed in the ghosts for blaming her for what had happened. She’d been wrong to go after them when she’d said she wouldn’t, but they were being unfair and she wasn’t ready to forgive them.