Those Plummerville residents stared when he and Eve walked past. Lucien was not dismayed or overly concerned by the bold glares. When people found out what he did, they always stared. The curious onlookers didn’t bother him, not today, and Eve seemed not to notice.
Eve. He didn’t know whether he was more amazed by what had happened last night… and this morning… or by the simple fact that she did, indeed, love him. Madly. Completely. Perhaps even as much as he loved her. It was like an unexpected gift, such pure love. He had never expected to receive such a gift.
She wanted this. A home. Neighbors. Some normalcy. Lucien wondered if he would recognize home when it found him. He’d traveled all his life, much as Eve had. More than once he and his mother had fled one small town or another when a young Lucien had let his gift be known and their neighbors had reacted as expected. With fear, and then fear turned to hatred. As he’d grown older he’d learned to hide his gift. And then, years later, he’d learned to use it. He was thirty years old, and he had never longed for anything so simple as home.
Home was here, he supposed, or anywhere else Eve decided to put down roots.
“Mr. Thorpe!”
Lucien closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as he and Eve came to a halt on the street. He recognized that voice, too well.
Like it or not, he still retained too much of Alistair, deep inside. He remembered things, he almost remembered others… and as he turned to face the woman who called his name he felt a little guilt, for what Alistair had done.
“Miss Gertrude,” he said. “A pleasure to see you this afternoon.”
She smiled, but that smile was not genuine. “I’ve been concerned about you, Mr. Thorpe. You haven’t been coming in for meals.” Her eyes flickered to Eve. “Why, I haven’t seen you come in at all, as of late. I had begun to think you might have met with some mischief.”
“I’m quite fine, thank you,” Lucien assured her.
“I can see that.”
The elderly woman raised her chin as she looked up at Eve. Eve was not a tall woman, but Miss Gertrude was a couple of inches shorter, still. “You should be careful, Miss Abernathy,” Miss Gertrude said in a lowered voice. “The sad truth is, men cannot be trusted. I fear this one has you completely fooled.”
Eve, knowing what she did of Gertrude’s past with Alistair, remained calm. “Some men can be trusted, Miss Gertrude.”
“I have never met one,” the older woman whispered. “And look at you two! Disgraceful, the way you touch and smile and give each other the moony eyes. Why, everyone in town can see what y’all are up to!”
Eve blushed, but just a little. “I appreciate your concern, Miss Gertrude, but I’m fine. Truly.”
“If you won’t listen to me, if you won’t heed my warnings, you deserve whatever heartache this rounder gives you!”
“Miss Gertrude, I can certainly understand your worry on Miss Abernathy’s behalf,” Lucien began, deciding that perhaps he should go ahead and tell the woman that he and Eve were getting married. Perhaps that would make a difference. Perhaps not.
She tsked and pursed her lips.
“Eve and I…”
Miss Gertrude snapped her head around when a friend, yet another plump, white-haired woman, called her name. Immediately, her face changed. She smiled brightly. Her eyes sparkled. This was the cheerful woman Lucien had come to know.
“Harriet!” she said, a song in her voice. “How good to see you.” She waved, her fingers fluttering. “Wait there, I’ll be right over.”
When she looked at Lucien again, her eyes hardened. “Mr. Thorpe, please remove your things from my boarding house as soon as possible. I don’t want or need the business of scoundrels.”
“Miss Gertrude…” Eve began.
Lucien interrupted her. “I’ll fetch my bag this afternoon.”
His landlady nodded her head and turned away, those fingers fluttering to her friend once again.
“Lucien,” Eve said softly, “we should have tried to explain.”
“Why? She is unreasonable where the subject is concerned, and I suppose with good reason. Alistair might not be a murderer, but that doesn’t mean he was a good man. He did mistreat Gertrude, when she was younger than you are today. He destroyed her faith in men and love, and probably ruined her life.”
“She could have moved on,” Eve argued. “She could have forgotten Alistair and found herself another man. She could’ve married and had children.”
“She could have, but she didn’t.”
Eve wrapped her arm through his, and they began to stroll again. The air seemed a bit cooler, the day not so bright. “Perhaps I should collect my things from the boarding house now,” Lucien said. “We can return to your house, and I’ll see if Alistair and Viola are still about.”
“I don’t remember inviting you to move in,” she said, a lilt in her voice.
“It will be a scandal, I imagine.”
“Quite.”
“Perhaps Buster has a room he’d rent to me.”
Eve sighed. “No. My reputation is already ruined. We might as well make the best of it.”
He wanted to kiss her, here in the middle of the Plummerville square, but he didn’t. Later, when he could kiss her properly…
A child, towheaded and unkempt, ran up behind them, almost knocking Lucien down as he contemplated later. The boy narrowly averted disaster and pulled up short directly in front of Lucien and Eve. The kid grinned widely. He was missing more than one tooth. “Are you that fortuneteller fella?”
Lucien sighed. This child was the third person today who had referred to him as a fortuneteller. “I most certainly am not,” he said in his most distinguished voice as he gave the boy a look that surely said Go away. First Miss Gertrude and now this!
“Seth Nelson and Chester Taylor, they both said you were a fortuneteller.”
“Well then,” Lucien said dryly, “it must be true.”
“Can you tell my fortune?” The kid asked brightly. “What will I be when I grow up? Will I have lots of money? Will I ever learn to read good? Am I ever going to break my arm again?” He looked sideways at Eve. “Ma’am, that broke arm hurt mightily,” he confided.
“I’m sure it did,” Eve said kindly, a smile on her beautiful face.
Lucien leaned forward to bring his face closer to the kid’s. The boy’s eyes were wide, curious and full of wonder… and a touch of fear. A particularly horrid prediction might send the child running.
“Lucien,” Eve said softly, “be nice.”
He glanced up at his woman… his home. One look at her and his frustration faded. Unable to help himself, he smiled. “You are determined to spoil all my fun, aren’t you?”
“Not all,” she whispered.
Lucien returned his attention to the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Ezekiel John Herman, sir, but all my friends call me Zeke. Only my mama calls me Ezekiel, and then only when she’s really mad. You can call me Zeke.”
“Well, Zeke,” Lucien said, “I will try to answer all your questions. Let’s see… When you grow up you will be whatever you wish to be, if you work hard enough at it. If you do well at your chosen profession, you will have all the money you need. No more, no less. If you dedicate yourself properly to your studies, you will of course learn to read well. Not good. And if you are cautious and make wise decisions, you will not break your arm again.”
Zeke’s smile was brilliant. “Thanks!” He ran off, waving as he went.
He and Eve resumed their stroll. “You actually want a couple of those?”
“No,” she said, snuggling just a little bit closer than was proper. “I want four or five, I think.”
“Four or five?” he said, horrified. He leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “Five?” He tried to picture life with Evie… and four or five children. Good heavens. Chaos.
“Or six or seven,” she teased.
“Why not go for an even dozen?” he asked dryly.
“Why not?” she answered, joy in her voice.
In spite of the picture of chaos in his mind, Lucien couldn’t help but smile. And he couldn’t talk about having babies without thinking about making them. Not today. If they didn’t change the subject, he was going to take Eve between the next two buildings and toss up her skirts and… yes, he definitely needed to change the subject.
“Halloween is an interesting holiday,” he said, looking around at the varied activities—the costumes, the food, the construction of the bonfire pyre at the end of the road. Come dark, those who were brave enough would light that pyre and gather round to tell ghost stories by the fire.
“I suppose.”
“My ancestors are Celtic, you know,” he said.
“No, I didn’t.”
“So of course, I was raised on stories of the night when the boundaries between the worlds of the living and the dead blur. Of soul cakes and of ghosts come back from the dead to terrorize and masks to wear so the naughty ghosts won’t recognize you.” He gave Eve a wicked grin and waggled his eyebrows.
Her smile faded. “For you, the boundaries between those worlds are always blurred.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
A gentle wind ruffled the full skirt of Eve’s blue dress. “If I ever have to be there to pull you back into this world, I will.”
“Thank you.” He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. “That’s an offer no one’s ever made before.”
“Well, someone needs to take care of you,” she said. “To make sure you know in which world you belong. To love you and comfort you and feed you…”
“Aha,” he said.
“Aha?”
“I always wondered why you are so determined to feed me.”
“Because sometimes you forget.”
No one, no one, had ever wanted to take care of him before. Not like Eve did. His mother had been terrified of a child who saw things others did not. She had once loved him, he supposed, in her own way, but not like this. “You are the most remarkable…”
His declaration was interrupted by a tugging at his pants leg. Stony expression on his face, he glanced down.
A lovely little girl with dark curls and a captivating smile reached up and took his hand, holding it gently with her little delicate fingers. “Are you that fortuneteller?” she asked.
Why fight it? “Yes, I suppose I am.”
*
The other members of the Plummerville Ghost Society walked toward Eve and Lucien, the four of them side by side and striding forward with great purpose. Katherine and Daisy were in the middle, bracketed by the men—Garrick in a fine suit and fancy vest, Buster in denims and a plain cotton shirt. Katherine wore her usual black, and Daisy was a stark contrast in a pale yellow dress that sported embroidered flowers and a number of large bows. The four of them made a very strange picture, so different and yet so obviously together. Every now and then Daisy had to take a little bit of a run to catch up with the others. Katherine’s legs were almost as long as those of the two men, so she apparently had no trouble.
Lucien sighed. Eve smiled.
“Now, now,” she said softly, before the others were close enough to hear. “Behave yourself.”
“I can only imagine what the four of them consider to be a suitable Halloween activity,” he muttered beneath his breath. “I’m glad they accept my abilities without censure, I truly am, but they could be a little less eager.”
It was Katherine who spoke first. “I have been hearing the most outrageous rumors about you two,” she said without a smile… or any facial expression at all, for that matter.
“Miss Gertrude says Lucien hasn’t been in his room for days,” Daisy added in a lowered voice. “She’s telling everyone who will listen that he’s a rogue.”
Garrick jumped in. “The blacksmith says the horse and buggy Lucien rented were quietly returned on Thursday evening, and that he didn’t see hide nor hair of the man yesterday.”
Buster just looked guilty, and as an accomplice in returning the horse and buggy Eve supposed he was. A little.
Her name and Lucien’s were being whispered behind their backs, the gossip was running rampant—and all that talk had nothing to do with ghosts!
“Eve and I are getting married,” Lucien said, without preamble or a hint of a smile.
Daisy squealed, while Katherine shook her head in wonder. “When?” Daisy asked. “Oh, a wedding. I love a summer wedding. The roses are just perfect, then, as long as you don’t wait too late in the…”
“I’m not waiting until summer!” Lucien interrupted, then he glanced at Eve. “Am I?”
Eve smiled. They hadn’t discussed a date. “No. But we do need to wait long enough for me to have a proper gown made. Something… special.” White and lacy and extravagant. She would not be sensible this time. She was very tired of being sensible.
“How long does it take to make a very special gown?” Lucien asked.
“A couple of months, I imagine,” Eve said.
“A couple of months?”
“A little overly eager, are we, Lucien?” Garrick asked with a wink.
“Married,” Katherine said with disgust. “Eve, you must talk to me before you do anything rash.”
“I think it’s right nice,” Buster said with a nod of his head, as he scraped the toe of his well-worn boot through the dirt on the road. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you, Buster,” Eve said sweetly.
Garrick sighed. “I suppose this means I can’t come calling when the miscreant leaves.”
Lucien leaned in close. “The miscreant doesn’t plan to leave, and if he does he’s taking the lady with him.”
Undaunted, Garrick turned to Daisy. “That leaves you, dear heart. All the other eligible ladies are either too old, too young, or else they’re simply farm lasses who would bore me to tears within a week. If I don’t find a woman soon, my sisters will drag me away from Plummerville and shackle me with a sad, marriageable acquaintance from Atlanta or Savannah.”
Daisy wrinkled her nose. “How rude! What about Katherine?”
Garrick shot a glance at the widow and lowered his voice, but not so much that they couldn’t all hear. “She scares me. I think I’d rather allow one of my sisters’ husbands to haul me out of town.”
“Garrick!” Daisy chastised. “You’ll hurt Katherine’s feelings,” she said in a voice that was low—but not low enough.
Katherine snorted. “He’s not hurting my feelings. The last thing I need is another husband, especially a drunken ladies’ man.”
“I’m not drunk,” Garrick said defensively.
“Not today,” Katherine countered.
“Only because I thought Lucien might decide to run off your dead husband tonight, this being Halloween and all, and I wanted to be clearheaded for the occasion.”
“Why?” Katherine asked bluntly.
Garrick lifted his chin. “In case I needed to fight him off, or something.”
“You don’t actually fight ghosts,” Lucien said.
“Oh. I didn’t know.”
“And we won’t be handling Katherine’s husband tonight.” Lucien cast a quick glance at the widow. “Unless the situation is urgent.”
She shook her head. “No.”
They had gradually formed a circle, the six of them there on the main street. Daisy leaned in a bit, as if that circle of friends offered some privacy. “Lucien and Eve have their own ghosts to worry about.”
“Daisy!” Eve said. “That’s a secret.”
“I know that,” Daisy said. “But after all, this is the Plummerville Ghost Society.” She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s our secret.”
“The Stampers,” Garrick said, nodding his head. “I’ve heard all about them. My mother knew Viola before she moved to Plummerville, though to hear her speak I assume they were not the best of friends.”
“I’ve never met your mother,” Eve said thoughtfully, wondering what kind of woman
was married to the short-tempered Douglas Hunt.
“She keeps to the house,” Garrick said. “Mother hasn’t been well since I was born, so she stays in bed most of the time. I don’t think she’s left her room at all in more than ten years. She likes things to be orderly and quiet.” He glanced up and down the street. “A gathering like this one would certainly send her into some kind of fit.”
“But you say she knew Viola?”
“That’s what I understand.” His brow wrinkled. “I remember her and my father talking about Viola Stamper, years ago. When I asked who she was, they said she was an old friend of the family.”
“Your mama might know something about Eve’s ghosts, don’t you think?” Buster said in a low voice.
“What could she possibly know?” Garrick asked.
Eve took a deep breath and lifted a silencing hand. “It is unlikely,” she said. “But I think we need to spend this afternoon considering every possibility.”
“Eve,” Lucien warned softly.
“Well, since the secret is out, we might as well band together and get this done.”
“Evie!” Lucien snapped.
She took his hand and gently squeezed it. “It’s okay. This might be just the break we need.” She looked at each one of the eager people before her in turn. “Something is missing.”
“What?” Daisy whispered.
“I’m not sure. I don’t know everything about Viola and Alistair’s life together, I know nothing about Viola’s life before she came to Plummerville, and we certainly don’t know who killed them.”
“I thought he stabbed her,” Katherine said, “and then he killed himself. That’s what I always heard.”
“That’s wrong,” Eve insisted. “So put it out of your mind. That false belief has kept anyone from even looking for the killer for thirty years.” She thought quickly as she gave each of the society members their instructions. Would it work? Maybe. Maybe not. But four eager sleuths took off to interview someone who had known the Stampers.
Shades of Midnight Page 21
