"Oh, yes! I mean, no," Lady Paige cried, obviously distressed. "I am sure she has not, after your unhappiness with the fish yesterday, Neville."
"Quite," Mr. Vickery said curtly. He leaned closer to Cassie and murmured, "It is so very difficult here to maintain proper standards, Miss Richards. Not at all like my house in London. You must allow me to tell you all about it..."
Cassie only listened with half an ear as Mr. Vickery, the joy of every young lady's eye, went on about his house in London and all his highborn friends. She watched as Lord Royce seated the slighted Lady Paige in her chair at the head of the table and conversed with her about various village doings. Slowly, the hurt look in her eyes over her nephew's carelessness faded, and a new sparkle took its place. Lord Royce nodded understandingly at her words and smiled.
All traces of the impatient, unsocial scholar vanished. He was all patience and kindness—just as he always was with his mother and Aunt Chat and even Antoinette, who most people treated as a mere curiosity.
As hard as he tried to hide it, Lord Royce was a very kind and thoughtful man. Not even his shabby coats could hide that, just as Mr. Vickery's yellow satin could not hide his shallowness.
Cassie smiled at the revelation, but unfortunately that small lifting of her lips encouraged Mr. Vickery to even greater heights of bragging about his barouche.
* * *
Phillip half listened to Lady Paige as he watched Mr. Vickery charming Miss Richards.
A sour, unaccustomed pang ached somewhere in his stomach as he looked at the fashionable man leaning close to her, speaking into her ear. She gave a small, almost intimate smile at whatever it was he was saying.
Mr. Vickery must be a riveting conversationalist, Phillip thought, as well as a sparkling dresser. His yellow coat, though a bilious color, was perfectly cut, his linen impeccably free of ink stains. No doubt he could converse on many subjects other than the ancient Greeks. How could a lady help but be impressed with him?
Phillip ruefully inspected the frayed cuff of his coat. Perhaps, just perhaps, he should visit the tailor and have some new ones made up. Not in yellow, to be sure, but maybe a sensible blue or brown. What would Miss Richards think of him then?
Phillip brusquely dismissed that thought just as it flitted through his mind. He did not have time for such frivolities! His coats had been good enough for months.
But still, a small voice whispered at the back of his mind, if a new coat could make her smile at him as she was smiling now, it could be worth it.
It could be worth it, indeed.
* * *
"How did you find my old friend Lady Paige and her nephew?" Lady Royce asked over supper that night at Royce Castle. "Is she enjoying living in the village? Did she accept the invitation to the masked ball?"
"She was very well, Mother, and of course she accepted the invitation," answered Phillip. "Everyone we invited accepted, did they not, Miss Richards?"
"Oh, yes," Cassie said, happy for the excuse to abandon her fillet of sole. The fish was excellent, but after an unusually large luncheon at Lady Paige's house, and tea and cakes with the Lewishams, she was quite stuffed. "All the people we met were so very kind! I had a wonderful day." And she had. Even Mr. Vickery, in his own way, had been very amusing. Cassie laughed, recalling his attempts at flirtation over luncheon.
Lady Royce beamed. "Yes, it is a very nice neighborhood. We should have everyone to the castle more often, should we not, Phillip?"
He looked at his mother suspiciously, as if he thought she might be up to something. "Of course, Mother."
Lady Royce nodded. "And did you get to go to Mrs. Brown's shop, my dear Miss Richards? She does such lovely work. I really think she could go to London."
"She did have some very pretty samples," Cassie agreed. "I ordered a couple of gowns as well as my costume."
"Did you decide on something, then, Cassie?" Antoinette asked.
"I am going to be a shepherdess," Cassie answered. "Have you decided on something?"
Antoinette shook her head. "I told you. It is a surprise."
"I am going to be Queen Elizabeth," Lady Royce offered. "And Chat will be Eleanor of Aquitaine. But Phillip still will not tell me what his costume is to be."
Phillip smiled. "That is because I do not know yet. I would rather not wear a costume at all."
"Of course you must wear a costume! That is the fun of it." Lady Royce sighed happily. "Oh, I am looking forward to this so very much!"
Chapter 14
"Tell me, Louisa, why do you want to find Lady Lettice so much? I mean, why her in particular?" Cassie asked. They were walking along the shore toward the tunnels, on their way to Antoinette's ceremony. Antoinette, Chat, and Lady Royce hurried ahead, carrying Antoinette's books, herbs, and candles, while Lord Royce trailed far behind.
He did not even appear to see Louisa at all, but Cassie thought it seemed quite normal to be in her company now. It could have been any evening stroll, really, if only her companion did not float above the sand rather than walk on it.
Louisa paused for a moment, then answered, "We want to know where they go."
"Where they go?"
"The ghosts who only stay for a brief while, and the people who die and do not become ghosts at all, like my husband. Sir Belvedere and I are the only ones who have stayed here so long, and we often wonder why. We just thought Lady Lettice might be the most likely to return, since she was here a rather long time as well."
Cassie nodded. She, too, would like to know where they had all gone. Perhaps then she would know about her parents.
Louisa paused and turned her head to look out at the moonlit sea. The hood of her cloak hid her face. "I just want to know," she whispered.
Cassie reached out to squeeze her hand, but felt only cool air. "If anyone can find out, it is Antoinette."
"Yes. Of course," said Louisa, her voice cheerful in a rather determined way. Then she looked ahead and gave a little, glowing wave. "Look! There is Sir Belvedere, waiting at the tunnel." She floated away, leaving Cassie standing alone on the shore.
She shivered a bit and pulled her red cloak closer about her. She did want to know, just as much as Louisa did. If she could just know that her parents were at peace, that they were together again...
But there was also a part of her that didn't really want to know at all. A very tiny part that was afraid.
Phillip came up beside her and gently touched her arm. "Having second thoughts?" he said softly.
Cassie looked up at him. The moonlight gave a silvery cast to his handsome face, making him look even more beautiful and rather otherworldly. Everything seemed cast in unreality tonight, even this solid, logical man.
She drew herself up to her full height, only to find that she still barely came to his shoulder. "Of course not," she said stoutly. "Are you? Oh, no, you would not be. You think nothing is going to happen tonight."
"I never said that. I simply do not know what is going to happen."
He looked to the tunnels, where the others had already gone in. The light of their lanterns and candies sent a golden wash out of the entrance onto the rocks and sand.
Cassie studied him carefully. Did he feel it, too, then? This sense that tonight was—special.
He smiled down at her and held out his arm. "Shall we, then?"
She nodded and slipped her hand onto the sleeve of his greatcoat, grateful for its warm solidity beneath her touch. And she knew then that, no matter what happened, she would be safe with him at her side.
* * *
"Oh, spirits of the night, of the sea and air! Hear my summons. Come to me!"
Antoinette's voice, deep and resonant, echoed in the dim, shallow tunnel. They had put out their lanterns, and the smoke from the circle of candles stung Cassie's eyes. She rubbed them before opening them again to look around her.
Antoinette stood in the middle of the circle of lights, her eyes half-closed, her mother's book open at her feet. She swayed slightly as she murmured, her green ro
be shimmering in the light. The others were gathered in a ragged oval outside the lights, holding hands and watching Antoinette with wide eyes.
There was a palpable air of tension and expectation in the still, cold air. No one knew what was going to happen next, and everyone looked about with nervous, darting little glances before looking at Antoinette again.
Cassie saw Aunt Chat look toward the tunnel entrance, her expression full of longing. Her hand tugged slightly in Cassie's grasp, but Cassie gave it a reassuring squeeze and she turned back to the group.
Phillip's hand lay still and warm in Cassie's other hand, his palm slightly rough against her skin. He, too, watched Antoinette closely, with a small, puzzled frown on his face. He looked as if he was listening to a rather fascinating lecture at Oxford.
Cassie wished she could be as calm as he was, as clinical. Her stomach felt fluttery and tight, and her hands were cold. As Antoinette's voice became louder, her words faster, Cassie longed to throw herself into Phillip's arms and shout out for her to stop.
She had even moved a step closer to him, tugging Aunt Chat with her, when a loud explosion echoed from the back of the tunnel. Bright blue-green light flashed, followed by a shower of sparks.
Cassie screamed and really did fall into Phillip's arms. He held her tightly against him, and she buried her face in the starchy, clean scent of his shirtfront.
But she couldn't help peeking back at the tunnel.
Antoinette ceased her chanting, and stared, mouth agape, at the darkness beyond the candles. Chat and Lady Royce clung to each other, also staring. Chat, unflappable Aunt Chat, trembled under her Indian print shawl. Louisa and Sir Belvedere, hovering near the entrance, watched with avid eyes.
In the wake of the brilliant explosion, the back of the tunnel seemed even darker than before. A faint drift of smoke floated to the ceiling.
Then a woman stepped forward, with a little, childlike man holding on to her hand. She was quite an amazing vision, tall and slim, with dark red hair coiled atop her head and crowned with a red velvet, pearl-trimmed cap. She wore a red satin gown in the Elizabethan style, richly embroidered, spread wide over a drum farthingale, with a tall, lacy ruff framing her pale, glowing face.
She stared back at them, faintly bewildered. It was deeply quiet in the tunnel.
Phillip pulled Cassie closer to him, and her hands tightened on the wool of his greatcoat. She couldn't breathe from wondering what might happen next.
The little man-child the woman held by the hand leaped up and down, the bells on his blue velvet cap and doublet jingling discordantly. He tugged at the woman's beringed hand and cried, "What is happening, Lady Lettice? Angelo is confused!"
"Hush, Angelo," the woman said quietly, taking in their gaping gathering with one sweeping glance. Then she saw Louisa and Sir Belvedere, and her eyes widened.
"Louisa," she said, her voice low and calm. "Sir Belvedere. So lovely to see you again. Have you moved on, or have I returned to Royce Castle?" Before they could answer, she glided forward, her skirts rustling silkily, the little man tugged in her wake. "But I can see that I am back at the castle. I remember these tunnels. Oh, indeed I do."
"Hello, Lettice," said Louisa.
"Fair Lady Lettice," Sir Belvedere said, then did one of his clanking bows. "We are very happy to see you again."
"Are you?" Lettice murmured. She looked at Antoinette, who still stood in her circle of lights. "And I suppose you are the one who brought me here?"
Antoinette tilted her chin back, her eyes narrowed as she examined Lettice. "I am Miss Antoinette Duvall," she answered. "I am the one who summoned you."
Lettice frowned, her pale forehead puckering under the widow's peak of her hair. "But whatever for?"
"It was at our request," Louisa said. "We wanted to see you again."
"Did you?" Lettice asked, still looking most puzzled.
Then Angelo pulled at her hand again and squealed, "Angelo is hungry, my lady! They took me away from my cakes and ale."
"Hush, Angelo. You are always hungry." Lettice pressed one hand on her throat, clattering the long strands of pearls and rubies there. "I need to leave these tunnels!"
She floated quickly out into the night, along with the noisy Angelo. Louisa and Sir Belvedere followed her, leaving the humans alone.
Cassie pulled away from Phillip to look up at his face. She expected to see him scornful and doubting, perhaps with his brow raised or a cynical little smile on his lips.
Instead, he was almost as pale as Lady Lettice. He stared unseeing into the depths of the tunnel, where the ghosts had appeared.
Cassie reached up and gently touched his cheek, bringing his gaze back to her. His skin was cold. "Phillip?" she whispered.
He placed his hand over hers, holding it to his cheek. "This is some sort of dream, is it not, Cassandra? A dream that has you in it, as well. I knew I should not have eaten that mushroom tart at supper."
"It is not a dream," Cassie answered. "I told you Antoinette has powers, but you did not believe me. Now you can see that there really are spirits, right here in your very home."
He frowned. "How do I know that these people are not actors you have hired to play out this little scene?"
His mother heard his words. She pulled away from Chat and straightened her cloak over her shoulders. She, too, was a bit pale, but her eyes were bright with excitement. "Don't be so ridiculous, Phillip! How could we get them to fly? To glow? And why would we go to so much trouble just to play a joke on you? My dear, you are just going to have to face the fact that there are things in this world that your books cannot explain. That logic cannot dismiss."
With a decisive little nod, she hurried out of the tunnel in search of the ghosts. Chat followed her.
Antoinette was gathering up her book and herbs, her dark face suffused with joy. "I did it!" she murmured as she blew out most of the candles. "I truly did it. Oh, I wish Mama could see this!"
And, she, too, left the tunnel, not even seeing Phillip and Cassie still standing there.
In the cold gloom, Phillip staggered over to an old upturned crate and sat down on it heavily. "So it was not a dream?" he muttered. "How can that be? What was it?"
Cassie was very worried. He did not sound at all like his usual scholarly self. He sounded, and looked, like a little lost boy.
She thought with a fright that perhaps the shock had undone him. She hurried over to his side and pulled the collar of his coat closer about his throat.
"It is all right," she soothed. "Quite all right. Spirits have always been with us, even in ancient Greece. They believed in spirits, too, did they not?" She wasn't exactly sure if they had or not, but she certainly hoped it was so. If only she had finished reading his book!
"Rational thinkers rejected such superstitions," he said uncertainly.
"Would you doubt the rationality of your own eyes?" Cassie argued. "Did you not see them yourself? Right here? And they cannot be a dream or hallucination, because we all saw them."
Phillip took her hand and looked up steadily into her eyes. "But what are they? Tell me, Cassandra. I must know."
Cassie shook her head. This was something she had wondered herself, but then she had come to the conclusion that it was simply unknowable. "I do not know exactly. They are the spirits of people who have lived here before, but I don't know why they are still here. They do not even know. But perhaps Lady Lettice can tell us something."
He shook his head and pulled away from her. The color had returned to his face, but now he looked angry and confused. He stood up and paced across the tunnel, his arms crossed. "Then if you cannot tell me the purpose, the truth, of this, why have you done it?"
"Because we do not know, of course!" Cassie said, confused. She had seen him cynical and doubting, and stuffy and smart, but never angry. Now he strolled the narrow periphery of the tunnel, kicking out at the extinguished candles, the spent piles of herbs. "We—we thought we might learn something..."
"Did you h
ave to do it here?" he said, staring at her with burning eyes. "Perhaps things of this sort are usual in Jamaica, but we are in England. This has no place in a civilized, ordered society." He gave her one more glare for good measure. "No place."
Then he turned and stormed out of the tunnel.
Cassie was stunned. She would not have guessed that Phillip had such depths of temper in him. She had disrupted the calm, unruffled order of his life, and now he was unsure. She completely understood his feelings.
But why did he have to take out his anger on her? She had meant no harm at all. She had only wanted to help him see beyond his blasted logic, to expand his horizons.
It appeared she had made a great mistake. After all, some people did not want their horizons expanded. She would not have thought that Phillip, a scholar, would be one of them.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She wiped at them fiercely with the back of her hand, squared her shoulders, and marched out of the tunnel. Standing about feeling sorry for herself would do no one any good at all.
And she was not about to let such an old fusty-musty as Lord Royce ruin her pleasure in the successful ceremony!
On the beach, the four ghosts were gathered near the water, whispering and gesturing. The only thing that could be heard from them was the clatter of Sir Belvedere's armor and the jingle of Angelo's bells.
Antoinette was sitting down on a large rock, looking thoroughly exhausted but also exultant. She held her mother's book against her, stroking her hand over the worn leather cover.
Chat and Lady Royce hovered near her, talking excitedly. When Cassie emerged into the moonlight, they hurried over to her.
"Cassie, dear, are you quite all right?" Chat said worriedly. "We saw Lord Royce come stomping past earlier. Did you quarrel?"
Cassie gave them a weak smile. "He is rather angry over what happened tonight. I tried to talk to him, but..."
"Of course he is angry!" Lady Royce cried. "He would never listen to me before, never even consider that the castle might be haunted. Now he has been proven wrong, proven wrong by women, and he is upset. Such a man. I cannot believe I raised him."
A Loving Spirit Page 8
