Lord Samhain's Night

by Jo Beverley

  "Charlie. Wake up."

  Charlie stirred slightly. "What?"

  Rupert felt a blinding sense of relief. He’d guessed aright. The resolve to confess the truth was the key. "Charlie. Wake up. I need to speak to you."

  "Rupert?" Charlie's eyes suddenly flew open. He stared. His eyes widened with shock.

  "Don't be afraid. It's true I'm a ghost, but you can't think I'd ever harm you."

  Charlie sat up dazedly. "What the deuce...?"

  Rupert perched on the bed. To himself he looked like himself and it appeared he looked that way to others too. "Not even a sheet, or chains to rattle," he remarked. "Rather tame, I suppose."

  Charlie reached out to hug him, but his hand passed though and he cried out. "There's nothing but cold!"

  "So I gather. I'm sorry. I'd relish a human touch too. Charlie, I only have tonight to put right some wrongs. I'm not sure what happens if I fail except that it's sure to be nasty. Samhain made that clear."

  "Samhain!"

  "Yes. It appears that all the dead of the past year go before him for judgment on Halloween. He only has earthly powers on Halloween, but unfortunately he was in power when we called on him last year."

  "That business with the nuts?"

  "I don't think he liked to be mocked."

  Charlie stared. "Are you saying he killed you for it? But why you? It was all of us."

  Rupert paused to gather courage for his confession. "But I was the only one who cheated. I put gunpowder in your walnut."

  He expected to see condemnation but Charlie shrugged. "I knew that."

  "What! But why didn't you speak?"

  Charlie relaxed back against the headboard. "Because only desperation would make you do such a thing. If you loved Phoebe that deeply, I couldn't stand in your way."

  His dread of revealing more truth was so great Rupert could feel himself begin to fade away. Charlie sat up. "Rupert?"

  Rupert braced himself. "I didn't love her," he said.

  "What?"

  "I didn't love Phoebe. Oh, I was fond of her as a sister, but I was attracted by her very convenient fortune."

  Charlie sat up, clenching a fist. "Well, damn you to hell!"

  "That's all too likely at the moment. I know it was wrong. I knew with each day it was wrong, but I was on a treadmill and couldn't get off. When you became engaged to Nan that was the last straw."

  "Nan! Are you telling me you loved her after all?" It was rare to see Charlie angry, but he was angry now.

  "Of course I did. But... What can I say? I don’t deserve it, but you have to help me put it all to rights."

  "And how do you suggest I do that?"

  "I was hoping that telling you the truth would be part of it, but you knew all along."

  "I didn't know you loved Nan, or I'd never have let you have Phoebe."

  "Did you really love her then?"

  "Of course. I still do."

  "Then you can't marry Nan!"

  Charlie leapt out of bed to pace. "What the devil am I supposed to do? Jilt her? Do you know how I came to be betrothed?"

  "No."

  "She haunted me -- no offense -- wanting to talk of you. It was clear you'd been close at one time, and I was beginning to regret giving you Phoebe without a fight, so I thought if I dropped her name into letters it might stir you up and get us out of the coil. That didn't work and the next thing I knew our names were linked. The thought of your upcoming wedding distressed her so much that she burst into tears in my arms. When her manipulative mama found us like that I didn't have the heart to fight."

  "You don't love her at all?"

  "No. She's a ninny at the best of times and these days she's positively depressing. But if you can find a way out of it, you're a better man than I am. She don't care for anything these days. I think she's decided that if she's going to be miserable, it might as well be with a coronet as not."

  "I'll find a way. I love her too much to see her in such a sterile marriage. If you were free, what would you do?"

  "Make some push to win Phoebe, even if I am only second best to you."

  "I don't think you were ever second best, Charlie."

  "Don't be a fool. She grasped the excuse of that Halloween farce readily enough."

  "I don't know why. I soon realized she loved you, not me, but I was too weak to do what was right. I am justly served." A clock struck two and he jumped. "And I'll be in even worse straights if I don't sort this out." He began to think himself on his way, then paused. "If I can't return, Charlie, I want you to know that you were always the best of brothers. I'm sorry I caused this pickle."

  Charlie stepped forward, then stopped. "Damnation, I wish I could touch you one last time, Rupert. I miss you. And I think we all caused this pickle one way or another."

  "Farewell, Charlie. If I can, I'll watch over you." With that, Rupert thought himself to Gresham Hall.

  Rupert sat on Nan's bed, considering the next step with some trepidation. He had no desire to terrify her. "Nan," he said softly. "Wake up, sweeting."

  "Rupert...?" She opened her lovely eyes and rubbed them. She stared, for a moment blindingly happy. Then she screamed.

  "Stop that!"

  She stopped, mouth agape. "Rupert! You're not dead!"

  "I'm afraid I am-"

  Mrs. Gresham rushed in, candle flaring. "Nan, dear. Did you cry out?"

  Wide-eyed, Nan looked between Rupert and her mother, who clearly saw nothing unusual. "Yes, mama, but it was just a bad dream."

  Mrs. Gresham came over, frowning slightly. "You cannot still be upset by Rupert Brewis's death. If you carry on this way, people are going to think it very strange."

  "No, it wasn't that, mama. Just a silly dream."

  With a sigh, Mrs. Gresham departed. Nan stared at Rupert, tears gathering in her eyes. She stemmed them with a lacy handkerchief. "You look so real," she whispered.

  "So I gather. You can't touch me, dearest-"

  Nan sat up straight, her fine eyes blazing through the tears. "How dare you call me dearest, you faithless wretch!"

  "Because I love you-"

  Nan threw the only thing to hand, her handkerchief. It floated through him. She gave a wail and collapsed back with her hands over her eyes.

  "Nan! For God's sake...."

  "Go away! I hate you. How could you offer for Phoebe Batsford?"

  Rupert sighed. "Greed. I deserve everything you've said."

  Phoebe uncovered her eyes and sat up. "Yes you do." She reached for her handkerchief then drew her hand back. "Could you move, please?"

  He did so and she retrieved the cambric square and blew her nose fiercely. She looked at him. "I wish you hadn't come back. I'd nearly convinced myself I didn't care..."

  "I'm sorry, love, but I need your help." Rupert quickly explained about Samhain. "Nan, I have just a few hours to make things right, and that includes helping you, I think. I must at least try, if for no other reason than because I care about you."

  He began to pace the room. "I did always love you, Nan, but I didn't think you would be so hurt if I married another. You are so beautiful that you could have anyone. It hardly seemed fair to expect you to marry a penniless younger son, and your mother would have had a fit at the thought. I decided it would be wiser to marry for money." Steadily he told her the whole story, evading nothing.

  When he'd finished, she looked at him soberly, and with some unexpected maturity. "I would have married you, Rupert, and been perfectly content."

  "I know that now."

  They sadly contemplated what might have been.

  Nan blew her nose again. "What do you want me to do?"

  Rupert came back to the bed. "Set Charlie free. Not just for his sake, Nan, but for yours. You deserve to be loved without reservation, dear one. You’ll find a better man than me, a better man even than Charlie. There must be a way in the afterlife to assist these things, and I will find it."

  Tears were rolling down her cheeks again. "I’ve hated you at times
, and that was the worst of all..."

  "I hope that the truth helps a little. I’d like to kiss you, Nan, one last time, but I'm afraid it will just feel cold."

  "Kiss me then."

  He felt nothing. Nan shivered, but she smiled. "Even frost is better than nothing." She reached out to where he was. "God go with you."

  Rupert smiled and left, thinking wryly, aye, but which god?

  Was he done? There must be a couple more hours of darkness and he'd better be thorough. He went to King's Chase.

  He went first to his mother's room, but he didn't wake her for she had no part in this fiasco. Then he went to visit Phoebe. It would seem that people could hear him only if he had something relevant to say, so he tried.

  "Phoebe." She slept on.

  He touched her and she shivered and pulled up the covers. He shouted her name but there was no response. That appeared to be that. The alarming conclusion was that he had no confession to make to her.

  Had she always known?

  Looking at her features against her pillow, he knew he would never have been at ease with her in the marriage bed. She was his sister and he'd known it since that kiss on Halloween. What a fool he'd been. Perhaps, if the gods were kind, he would be the only one to lose by it.

  "Take Charlie," he said softly, "and be happy."

  He wished himself back to Jacoby Hall and wandered the ruins as a good ghost should. Dawn began to lighten the eastern sky and a cock crew. Rupert stood tall and awaited his fate.

  He thought he heard the brazen laugh of Samhain, but all he saw was a light. Not scarlet fire-light but a clear warm gold, as if the summer sun had risen instantly upon him. He felt a welcome ahead. He looked back momentarily on the world, but it now seemed flat and bleak, like a very tawdry stage-set. With a joyous heart he went towards the light.

  ~~~~

  Nan was astonished when Charlie was announced at Gresham Hall. "But I only sent the message to you an hour ago."

  "I never received it." He was dusty and weary from a long ride, and he paced the parlor restlessly. He stopped and looked at her. "Rupert?"

  Nan nodded.

  "What do you want to do?"

  Nan took off the ring and held it out to him. "I should never have agreed to marry you, Kingsbury. I’ll wait for true love, or not marry at all."

  He smiled with relief as he took it. "I was just using you too, Nan. Will your mother be very angry?"

  Nan shook her head. "She'll be upset, but she truly cares for me, and she wouldn't want to see me unhappy. I fear," she said with a smile, "that she'll be cross when you announce your engagement to Phoebe."

  He colored and kissed her hands and lips. "You do deserve better. I wonder if Rupert has smoothed the way for me with Phoebe too."

  Nan picked up his hat and crop and held them out. "Go and find out, my friend, and bon chance."

  ~~~~

  Charlie again found Phoebe on Twitcher's Hill, but without dogs. Had it really only been a year since he had first proposed to her here?

  "Charlie! I didn't expect to see you. Aren’t things starting in Melton?"

  "Nothing important." It would seem Phoebe had not received a visit from Rupert.

  "Are you on your way there then?"

  "No. I've just come from Melton." This conversation was getting nowhere. "I came to see Nan."

  "Oh," she said and looked away.

  "We’ve decided we wouldn't suit after all."

  "Oh," she said, looking at him again. "Why not?"

  "Because she still loves Rupert, and I still love you."

  She stared at him and said nothing.

  Charlie moved closer. "Can you consider me again as a husband, Phoebe? I don't think I let you know, last year, how much you mean to me, so it was my fault that you chose Rupert."

  "Oh no, it was my foolishness…" Phoebe covered her mouth.

  Charlie gently moved her hand and captured it. "We must be honest. You didn't love him as a bride should."

  Phoebe snatched her hand away. "You have no right to accuse me like that! Just because you and Nan have proved fickle in your affections. That blasted nut was true after all."

  "That blasted nut was exactly that. Rupert put gunpowder in it."

  Phoebe eyed him. "How did you know?"

  "It was obvious, the way it shattered." He stared at her. "You mean you knew?"

  Phoebe planted her fists on her hips. "I have as many wits as you, Charlie Brewis."

  "Then why the devil did you agree to marry him?"

  "Because he was clearly desperate. And because my other suitor shrugged his elegant shoulders and strolled away!"

  He caught her and pulled her close. "Oh, my darling, did I hurt you as badly as that?"

  Phoebe braced her hands against his chest. "What do you think, you wretch? If you knew it was a cheat, why the devil did you give him a clear field?"

  He didn't try to hold her closer, but he didn’t let her break free.

  "Because he was clearly desperate. All my life I've felt guilty at having everything while Rupert had so little. It seemed justice that he should win the greatest treasure of all."

  Phoebe stared up at him. "That's the first time you've said something lover-like that I've been able to believe."

  She relaxed, so he could hold her with only one arm, leaving the other hand free to caress her cheek. "My damnable air of boredom. I thought you at least might have known how I hide my deepest feelings... I've been desperately unhappy, Phoebe. Do I have a chance?"

  Phoebe didn't know quite what to make of this sudden turn of events. She pulled out of his arms. "What has brought all this on?"

  He looked a little wary. "Rupert. He paid me a ghostly visit. No, listen!"

  When he'd finished the story, Phoebe shook her head. "It's scarcely believable. Why didn’t he visit me?"

  "I think he could only speak to those to whom he needed to confess. You were ahead of the game."

  "And Nan?"

  "Is happier, I think, for having it explained, though it's a sorry tale."

  Phoebe walked off a little way. "So he only wanted me for my money. I had begun to suspect as much."

  He came up behind her. "You can at least acquit me of that, I think."

  She turned. "You haven't lost all at the tables, milord?"

  "Assuredly not." He caught her hands. "I know this is all a shock, but believe me, Phoebe, I love you. I love you more desperately than I would ever have thought possible. At times I thought of that story Rupert told last year, and made bizarre plots to steal you at the altar. I don't want to pressure you, but I will never marry anyone else. If you don't accept me, the Brewis line will die."

  She laughed nervously. "And that is not to pressure me?"

  He caught her up. "Very well, I do intend to pressure you. I lost you once through nonchalance, and I will not do so again. I intend to woo you, and badger you, and give you not a moment's peace until you're mine."

  Phoebe linked her hands behind his neck. "I look forward to it immensely. Why don't you start with a very wooing, badgering kiss?"

  He did, and Phoebe knew their wedding would only be delayed by her liking the wooing and badgering a great deal.

  And that magic sometimes worked wonders in human affairs.

  The End

  A note about Samhain’s Night.

  Samhain is a Celtic tradition and deity, and it is pronounced Sowain, but I don’t let that stop me from pronouncing it Samhain, as I didn’t know the pronunciation when I first wrote the story.

  The feast of Samhain has many pagan and folklore traditions, and has long been linked to Halloween or All Souls’ Night, when the intersection between the mundane world and the spiritual is supposed to be thin. This has led to many traditions and beliefs, from it being a good time to remember the ancestors to it being a time when the dead can invade and harm. There is also the one tradition that says that all who have died in the past year rise from their graves for judgment, and that’s the one I used h
ere.

  The superstition about the walnuts and the prediction of a partner is from an old Victorian book of spells I own. No, it’s not Wiccan, merely parlor amusements. The Victorians were very interested in such things.

  It was also a time to celebrate light as the nights come earlier and winter lies ahead, so bonfires were often part of the tradition. In Britain this has been moved to November 5th, Guy Fawkes Night.

  Other Paranormal Work

  I have a strong interest in fantasy and science fiction but because my romance writing quickly became successful I’ve not had time to play much in those areas. However, I enjoy opportunities to bring such elements into my romances.

  Here are some other stories and novels that have weird stuff in them. You can find out more about them on my web page. http://www.jobev.com.

  I’ve also included an odd little SF story I wrote a while ago, and also an excerpt from my upcoming Georgian romance, A Scandalous Countess.

  Enjoy.

  The Demon’s Bride.

  First published in the collection, Moonlit Lovers. In this Georgian romance a vicar’s daughter becomes entangled with a rakish earl in the midst of rural superstition. As in Samhain’s Night, there’s more truth to the ritual than people think. This is only available at the moment as an e-book.

  The Dragon and the Virgin Princess

  This was published as part of a collection, Dragon Lovers, and is still only available as an e-story that way. However, I think you’ll love the other four stories.

  Mine is a riff on that old story of the virgin sacrificed to the marauding dragon, but again, what was seen as merely a ritual takes a disturbing turn toward reality.

  The Raven And The Rose

  in Chalice of Roses, four romances woven around Grail mythology. My medieval heroine discovers she has the ancient power to summon the Grail to bring peace to war-torn England. But first she needs a hero, and he’s hard to persuade.