Ghosts from the Past (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies)

by Charles, Jane

  Why was she thinking of the past now? She should leave it there, but it had been brought into the present by way of a highwayman called the Ghost. Was it a coincidence that he went by the same name as the Russian spy? Was it merely a chance occurrence that he also stole kisses?

  Natalie placed the brush on the dressing table and stared into the mirror. Or, was this highwayman trying to resurrect the role her husband once played?

  Anton woke to the shrill cries of seagulls. Sunlight brightened the room and he idly wondered what time it was. Much later than he usually rose, but it wasn’t as if he had appointments to keep. He stretched his arms above his head but stopped immediately, wincing at the pain. The night flooded back into his memory and a smile pulled at his lips. Natasha had shot him. If she knew the plans he had for her, she would have taken better aim, no doubt.

  He sat up in the bed and unwound the bandage to study the wound. Though a bit pink, there was no sign of infection. It would be bloody inconvenient to try and exact revenge on his wife with an infected arm. He tossed on a loose, linen shirt, not bothering with a cravat, yanked on his breeches, and then struggled with his boots. Removing them last night had been a chore and if he weren’t leaving the house today, he would remain in his stockings alone. But, as he had plans, boots were in order.

  The smell of cooked eggs and warm bread drew him to the kitchen. Vanko was just setting the rest of the food on the table when Anton walked in.

  “This smells delicious.” He took a seat that the table.

  “I expected you sleep late.” Vanko placed a mug of hot coffee in front of him.

  Anton smiled before he bit into the bread.

  Vanko looked over the rim of his cup. “Do you think you will take her today?”

  4

  Trembling anxiety subdued every other sensation; and as the minutes passed,

  her fears increased.

  A Sicilian Romance

  Ann Radcliffe

  Natalie paused in the middle of the wooded path and listened carefully before she turned and looked in all directions. Fresh green leaves filled the trees, wild flowers bloomed in bunches along the forest floor, yet she felt no peace. Goose flesh formed on her arms. She could swear she was being watched, possibly followed, but could see no one. A squirrel sat upon a limb not far away and stared down at her. Natalie doubted he was the cause of her apprehension. It was only her imagination. Her nerves were on edge because of what had happened the night before, and it was silly to think the Ghost, or highwayman, or whoever he was, was still out here, watching her. Besides, he was wounded and certainly resting somewhere.

  She took a step and once again walked toward Atwood’s estate. The earl had opened his home to the girls and teachers last year when a tempest had blown through and damaged the school. While the building was being rebuilt, Tess Crawford—one of the teachers—and Lord Atwood fell in love.

  “Beltane is the perfect celebration,” Eliza announced.

  The three had stopped, turned and now blocked her path. Their eyes pleaded for an affirmative answer. Natalie simply stared at them. “Beltane?”

  “Yes.” Rosemary nodded. “We need to finish the notices.”

  Natalie blew out a breath. She should have paid closer attention to their conversation, but she had been too distracted. How could she have forgotten? A celebration was planned to take place in a week and notices still needed to be put up in town, as well as invitations delivered to the residents. She and the students were to work on that project this afternoon, after Botany class.

  The girls were up to something else. Natalie could feel it in her bones, but she lacked any clue to the troublesome trio’s motivation. “We will go into town tomorrow.”

  The girls seemed placated for the moment and walked ahead. A smile broke at the relief of arriving at the manor without encountering the feeling of being watched.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Pritchard,” Lord Atwood greeted as she approached where he and Tess were enjoying afternoon tea beneath a large umbrella on the veranda. “Wesley advised me the students would be by.”

  “It is spring, Lord Atwood, and time to bring your gardens back to life.”

  “I could employ gardeners for that task, Miss Pritchard. It is easier now that people no longer fear me and the rumors of my being a vampire have been put to rest.” He chuckled. Before the tempest and the school took up residence in his home, practically the entire town feared Lord Atwood was a vampire simply because he couldn’t go in the sun and people only saw him at night. It didn’t help that he was usually seen at midnight, standing at the grave of his deceased wife.

  “When I gave you use of the grounds and the greenhouse for your botany lessons, I never expected you to take on the task of beautifying my estate.”

  “Oh, but I want to,” Natalie insisted. Given how the girls had reacted to believing Lord Atwood had been a vampire, and that he somehow managed to raise his wife from the dead and set out to catch the woman, was the only remainder Natalie needed to never let those three ever suspect her fears about of being followed.

  She forced a smile. “Not only is it perfect for my lessons, but a way for us to thank you for the use of your home over the winter.”

  “It is not necessary. Had you not been here, I would not now be the happiest man alive.” He glanced down at his wife, who rolled her eyes in humor, yet still blushed under his gaze.

  The change in Atwood still stunned her. When they had first arrived after their school had been destroyed by a tempest, he had been surly, moody and basically a very unpleasant gentleman to be around. That all changed when he fell in love with Tess.

  The students entered the greenhouse, but Natalie did not follow. They knew what to do and she only needed to supervise them as they put the delicate plants into the ground.

  “Is something wrong?” Tess, her dear friend asked. “You seem rather distracted today, and pale if I might add.”

  Natalie sighed and took a seat at the table. Should she tell them?

  “Please, have a seat,” Atwood insisted. Wesley appeared instantly. “Please bring refreshments.”

  Wesley nodded and backed away. Natalie watched in amazement. Wesley, Atwood’s valet, was never far from his employer’s side, taking on more duties than the normal valet.

  “Well?” Tess prodded.

  “I encountered the Ghost last night, along with Rosemary, Eliza and Sophia, on the way back from Sophia’s home.” She smiled and looked from Tess to Atwood and back again. She tried to make light of the situation, but they studied her with concern.

  “I heard he was in the area.” Atwood frowned. “I should have been riding at night so I could take care of that menace.”

  Tess leaned over and kissed his cheek. “What would I do with you gone all night? Unless I go with you.”

  “Don’t even consider the possibility. If and when I go searching for this Ghost, you will be safe and locked up tight in this house.”

  “But he only wants a kiss.” Tess grinned up at her husband.

  “My point exactly.” Atwood ground out. “Nobody else is going to be kissing you.”

  Tess sighed and turned to Natalie. “So, what happened? Who did he kiss? I am assuming it was you? Tell me everything.”

  By the time Natalie was finished with the story, Tess had gone pale and Atwood grasped his wife’s hand.

  “Oh, Natalie,” Tess cried, tears in her eyes.

  “I am fine,” she quickly insisted before she glanced back at the woods and laughed nervously. “I must be overwrought because I had the oddest feeling we were being watched and followed when I came here today.”

  Atwood sat forward. Lines appeared between his eyes and he frowned. “Are you sure nobody followed you?”

  Natalie sat back, uncomfortable with how alarmed Atwood appeared to be. “I didn’t see anyone. Besides, I shot him, remember.”

  “A wound to the arm doesn’t always stop a man. Especially if he is after something he wants. Did you take the path
all of the way here or use the road at times?”

  “The path,” she answered, unsure why it was important.

  Atwood stood. “Excuse me for a moment.”

  She turned to Tess. “I believe he is more concerned than I.”

  Mrs. Zobard, Atwood’s housekeeper, appeared a moment later with a pot of tea and various cakes. Atwood followed the servant and took his seat. “You will not be leaving here until I am assured it is safe.”

  Natalie blinked in surprise as a number of the servants exited the manor and spread out before walking into the woods. Oh, she hated to inconvenience them over something as silly as her imagination. In the future she would share her stories with Tess and Tess alone.

  “Lord Atwood, this really is not necessary. I am sure it is only my imagination brought on by the events of last night,” Natalie argued again.

  “Until I know for certain who else was in the woods, you are not going anywhere.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back and stared at the tree line.

  “Please don’t say anything girls.” She nodded to the greenhouse where her students were preparing the plants.

  He glanced at her and raised an eyebrow. That was all the response she received before he went back to watching the woods.

  Natalie turned to Tess. “I could just imagine what the troublesome trio would do if they learned about this.”

  “Heaven knows they would be searching the woods for your Ghost,” Tess added.

  When Atwood stood, Natalie turned to find three men walking toward him. She recognized them from when she stayed here not long ago. They worked in the stables, she believed.

  “Did you find anything?” Atwood demanded.

  “Footprints,” the middle one acknowledged. “They seemed to follow the same path as Miss Pritchard, but not far away.”

  A chill ran down Natalie’s spine. She had not imagined that she was being watched.

  “You did not see anyone?” Atwood looked from one to the other.

  “No,” the smaller one answered. “He stopped just at the edge of the tree line. I assume he was watching until we came out then moved away from the school and the house after that.”

  “Did anyone follow the footprints?”

  “David did, but they ended at the spring.”

  “Thank you.” Atwood dismissed them.

  Natalie fisted her shaking hands. “I thank you as well.”

  They all nodded and left. Natalie sank into her chair. She wasn’t sure if she was more relieved to find out someone was watching her or that she hadn’t developed an overactive imagination like the girls.

  “Miss Pritchard, I cannot allow you to return to the school.”

  Now Atwood was being ridiculous. “Of course I will return. I have duties I will not shirk. We don’t even know for certain if he was watching me or the girls, or any of us. Those prints could have been made at any time.” Her argument was weak, but she refused to hide in this gothic manor. Yes, last night had been unnerving but to believe someone actually followed her was ridiculous.

  “It is too dangerous—”

  “I will be fine, but we will take the road when we return.”

  Atwood fisted his hands on his hips, narrowing his eyes on Tess. “Talk some sense into your friend.”

  Tess shrugged. “It will do little good.” She grasped Natalie’s hand. “I would feel better if you remained here, where you can be protected.”

  “Tess, I will be fine. Besides, he is only a ghost, after all.” Natalie laughed though she felt little humor. Was she being foolish in discarding Atwood’s concern?

  Eliza slipped away from the crack in the door. “See, I told you there was a ghost,” she announced as soon as she, Rosemary and Sophia were far enough away so as not to be heard.

  “He is not a ghost.” Sophia anchored her hands upon her hips.

  “What else can he be?” Rosemary asked. “He appears out of nowhere and then disappears the same way.”

  “A man, who is very quiet,” Sophia offered dryly. Had those two learned nothing? First vampires and now ghosts.

  “No, he is a ghost,” Eliza said with determination. “He is stuck and cannot move on until he has found his love.”

  “Love?” Sophia tried not to laugh.

  “Yes, that is why he kisses the ladies. He is searching for her and cannot rest until he finds her.” Eliza sighed dramatically and placed a hand over her heart.

  “He must have thought Miss Pritchard to be his lost love.” Rosemary’s sigh mimicked Eliza’s. “He did take her from the carriage. We can only assume he was about to kiss her when Miss Pritchard shot him.”

  Sophia rolled her eyes at the two and returned to her task of taking Sedum plants from the shelves for replanting in the gardens.

  “Which is why this May Day party is so important. He will not be able to resist and will show to find his lost love.”

  “If he is a ghost, how will we know he is there?” Sophia asked dryly.

  “Because we saw him clear enough the other night,” Eliza argued.

  “I saw a man, intent on taking our teacher from the carriage.” Sophia’s voice rose in irritation. “His face was covered with a scarf and the hat shaded his eyes. I am sure you will know who he is the moment you see him.” She turned back to the plants.

  “Shush.” Rosemary hastily looked to the door. “We don’t want them to know our plans.”

  “There is a chance he will not show,” Eliza whispered.

  “More likely than not,” Sophia muttered under her breath.

  “Which is why I will formulate a plan to catch him,” Eliza announced with a grin.

  What pulled him to her? Natasha was constantly on Anton’s mind. He could barely go a few hours without seeing her before he had to find her again. He had nearly been caught this morning after following her through the woods and knew he had to be more careful. Once it was dark, he returned to the woods outside the school and waited for any sign that she was within. Vanko had tried to discourage him, fearing Anton would be caught taking too many chances, or seen by someone who could report his presence.

  Anton argued that he needed to confirm where she slept. He half feared Natasha would have stayed at the manor house with that lord and his wife, but she hadn’t. His patience had been rewarded when she stood before her window a few hours ago. She had leaned out toward the sea and seemed to take deep breaths of the salty air. Her hair was unbound for bed and the red curls danced on the breeze. Why did she have to be so blasted beautiful? Even though treachery lay in her heart, he still wanted to thread his fingers through those curls and pull her close. Taste her lips and inhale her scent. She only remained at the window a few moments before she closed it and disappeared.

  Her beauty was arresting and pulled him to her. Why did she have to betray him? Why did he still long for her? Despite what she had done, his desire for her was strong. One night with her was all he’d had and despite what she had done, he wanted more.

  Anton cursed his heart and loins for being so weak. He needed to remember it was because of her that he had nearly rotted in prison.

  Anton waited a bit longer to see if Natalie returned to her window. After he determined time enough had passed that she was asleep, he began his search for a way to enter the school without anyone being the wiser. All of the doors were locked and he no longer had the tools to break in. He attempted the windows as well, but they would not budge.

  He returned to stand beneath her window. Even if there was a trellis or a tree, his arm was not strong enough to make the climb.

  He blew out a sigh and walked toward the woods where his horse waited. In time, she would be his.

  5

  The late mysterious circumstances relating to this part of the fabric, now arose to

  her imagination, and conjured up a terror which reason could not subdue

  A Sicilian Romance

  Ann Radcliffe

  A shriek rent the air, shocking Natalie from her slumber. She sa
t forward when the scream came again. It sounded like Eliza. She was on her feet in a moment, out the door and running up the stairs to the girls’ room. When she entered, the three students were standing at the window.

  “What is wrong?” Natalie demanded.

  Claudia Morris came up behind her, as did Mrs. Wiggons.

  “I saw a light,” Eliza exclaimed. “At the old manor.”

  Natalie’s stomach clenched.

  Mrs. Wiggons sighed heavily and anchored her fists on her hips. “And what were you doing looking out the window at this time of night?”

  “I couldn’t sleep very well,” Eliza hedged. “Then I heard a horse. Not by the stables but in the woods. I waited to see if it would show itself.”

  “You wanted to see if it was the Ghost,” Miss Morris clarified, an edge of irritation to her voice.

  A blush spread on Eliza’s cheeks. “Well, it is possible,” she grumbled. “But I never did see a horse or rider.”

  “How long did you sit here waiting?” Natalie crossed her arms over her chest, tired of the girls and weary of their schemes.

  “About half an hour,” she answered sheepishly. “That is when I saw the light. It was moving around the manor.”

  Mrs. Wiggons marched to the window and looked toward the pile of stones. “Well, there is no light now.” She turned on the girls. “Each of you will get into your beds right now. There will be no talking, no reading and I will tolerate no arguments.” She yanked the curtains closed. “And stay away from the window.”

  Claudia followed Natalie downstairs to her room and shut the door. “I am growing concerned with the girls, seeing things that aren’t there.”

  Natalie turned the lamp’s flame up on her dresser. “I am not sure Eliza is imagining things this time.”

  “That is impossible. Nobody has been in that manor in years,” Claudia argued.