The Countess

by Catherine Coulter

  “Yes, that’s quite true. You don’t belong here, not as my uncle Lawrence’s nubile young wife, who sleeps alone in her own bedchamber while he sleeps alone in the master’s suite.”

  “It is none of your affair what either of us does.”

  There was that flash of anger or violence in his dark eyes. I couldn’t miss it this time, it was dark and intense and deep as a well, and I felt it like a blow. “If I could,” he said, his voice low and savage as he turned to leave, “I would throw you in a carriage and drive you to London right now. But you know, Andy, I would never call you an abomination. Isn’t that what the old woman said?”

  And then he was gone before I could say anything.

  I turned back to the window. I don’t know how long I stood there, not really thinking, just being there to absorb anything that might be in this strange room when she called out to me from the doorway. For one instant, I believed it was Caroline, come here now to find me in her room.

  “I hope you are feeling well today, Andy.”

  Naturally it wasn’t Caroline.

  “Judith,” I said as I turned around. I was pleased to see her. There was no guile, nothing at all hidden beneath her sweet girl’s face. “I am fine, thank you.”

  “I was worried about you, Andy. So was Miss Gillbank. She said what happened to you was perfectly dreadful. She said she didn’t think she would have had the courage to dash to the bedchamber door like you did.”

  “I think all of us find we can do just about anything when we are forced into it.”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  “This was your mother’s music room, wasn’t it?”

  Judith nodded and began walking around the empty room, touching her fingertips to the wall here and there. “That’s what Mrs. Redbreast told me. She said my mother played the harp so very beautifully. I don’t appear to have any of her talent. Miss Gillbank says I should just keep practicing, but I know she believes it’s hopeless. Andy, what happened last night, do you really believe now that it was a nightmare?”

  “Well, that’s what everyone else believes, so perhaps it is what really happened.”

  “That was well said, but you didn’t say anything.”

  It was not as easy to lie to her as I had to everyone else. “You will keep this to yourself, Judith, all right?”

  Her eyes grew larger, and she stepped right up to me. “What? I swear I’ll not tell a soul.”

  “The old woman last night was very real.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because George saw her. He saw her clearly because he barked his head off, nearly leapt out of my arms to attack her. A dog doesn’t bark at someone else’s nightmare.”

  “Oh, goodness, you’re right. There is no doubt then. Did you tell Father that?”

  “No, I didn’t. Listen to me, Judith. Adults don’t like to believe in things that cannot be readily explained. It makes them nervous, uncertain. Even if I told them about George, they wouldn’t like it. They would prefer to believe that I made that up, too.”

  “But you didn’t. Have you decided what you are going to do?”

  “I smiled at her and managed to speak the truth at the same time. It was difficult. “You mean, am I going to leave Devbridge Manor before I’m made to pay for all of it?”

  “That’s what the old woman said to you?”

  “Yes, and a lot more besides.”

  “What is it you are supposed to pay for?”

  “I don’t know. But I remember that I am also the evil that revisits this house. Does that make any sense at all to you?”

  She shook her head. Perhaps I was speaking too frankly to her, but I felt she deserved the truth. “I wish I could think of something,” she said then, and walked to join me by the window. “I used to stand here and watch the gardeners scythe the front lawn. The sweet grass smells came right up through the open window. It was summer then, of course. I don’t want you to leave, Andy, but I know that you must be frightened by all this.”

  “I don’t want to leave, either. I am the mistress here now. Most would say that I belong here.”

  “Then, what are we going to do?”

  It was we now, not just me and George. She stuck out her hand, and I took it. “Would you like to come with me to The Blue Room? Perhaps we can find out who scared me so badly last night. It was John’s knife the old woman had. Then later, the knife was back in its place, in John’s collection, sitting in its velvet case. How did that happen do you think?”

  “Oh, no, you don’t believe it was John who disguised himself as that horrid old woman and came into your bedchamber?”

  “It was his knife. When I ran down the hall and pounded on his bedchamber door, it took him time to open the door. I wonder why.”

  “Oh, dear, you’re wondering if it took him awhile to shuck off that tangled gray wig and that old woman’s gown?”

  “And replace that Moorish knife of his back in its glass case.”

  “But, Andy, if he was in your room and he didn’t chase you down the hall, then how could he have gotten back to his bedchamber to answer your knock?”

  “That’s an excellent question, isn’t it? There’s more, Judith. I locked my bedchamber door before I went to bed.”

  She cocked her head at me, a thick tress of blond hair falling like a curtain down her cheek. “I don’t understand. No, wait.” Then Judith, that very proper little girl who made wagers, whistled. “Another way into The Blue Room? A secret passage? That’s what you are thinking, isn’t it? Oh, goodness, Andy, a dark narrow passage that winds throughout the house. Oh, my.”

  “There is another possibility. The ledge outside the windows. It’s wide enough so someone could make their way along it and then climb back into another room.” I wasn’t about to tell her that this was how her mother had escaped to make her way to the north tower and kill herself.

  “I would rather have a secret passageway,” Judith said, and bounded out of the room with me following more slowly behind her. Actually, I thought, I would prefer a secret passageway myself. Was it a mistake to take her into my confidence? I didn’t think so, but nothing made sense here at Devbridge Manor. At least since I had arrived here.

  “You’ve never heard anyone speak of any passageways? Your father? Brantley? Anyone?”

  “No,” she said, clearly disappointed. “But if there is one that opens into The Blue Room, we will find it. But you know, Andy, Father is the one to ask. Surely he would know, would he not?”

  “Very probably.” But I couldn’t very well ask Lawrence about secret passageways and such. Of course he would know, but if I asked, then he would know that I hadn’t changed my tale at all. He would know that I firmly believed the old woman was as real as he was.

  “Don’t you ask him, Judith. Let’s just keep this between ourselves for the time being. Now, you and I can spend some time hunting up that passageway. All right?” She agreed, very quickly. I couldn’t remember if a twelve-year-old girl could be counted on to keep mum about anything.

  I opened the door and walked into The Blue Room. George was sleeping in front of the fireplace. He cracked open an eye, saw Judith, obviously remembered that she adored him, and got lazily to his paws, taking his time to stretch out each leg. But he didn’t bark.

  “Evidently Brantley has been giving him more lessons,” I said, still amazed. “That is why he isn’t barking his head off now.” I watched Judith walk to George, go down on her knees, and say in the most worshipful voice, “Have you missed me, George? Should you like to come and sleep with me one night? I’ll sneak down to the kitchen and bring you anything you would like.” She raised her face to me. “Can he be bribed, Andy?”

  “In an instant,” I said. “He adores crispy bacon. You feed him that, and he is yours.”

  George licked Judith’s hand, and allowed his acolyte to pick him up in her arms. He had no shame.

  Judith laughed, and George licked her face until his tongue must be dry.
She said then, “Why were you standing alone in Mother’s music room, Andy?”

  “Like you, I enjoy the prospect from the front window. I’m also considering making use of it myself. Perhaps I can make it a study, where I can write letters and such.”

  She nodded. She didn’t care one way or the other. To be expected, since her mother had died shortly after birthing her.

  “This is a large room,” I said. “I believe I’ll start on the wall with the fireplace.”

  Judith gently set George back onto the rug that lay in front of the fireplace. He went back to sleep, and I’d swear that mutt had a grin on his ugly little face.

  Judith took the far wall.

  “You’re looking for a hollow sound,” I said as I tapped.

  We both began knocking on the walls.

  We hadn’t been at it all that long when there was a knock on the door.

  I immediately climbed down from the chair I’d been standing on. It was Amelia; she stepped into my bedchamber and placed her hand on my arm. “Listen, Andy, I remember more now about what happened yesterday. I was lying on my bed just a little while ago, taking a nap just as Thomas begged me to do. When I closed my eyes, I remembered that door slamming shut in your face. I remember you shouting at me.” She came to an abrupt halt. “Oh, goodness, it’s you, Judith. Whatever are you doing here? Why are you standing on that chair?”

  Judith looked scared. “I’m sorry, Amelia, I found Andy and she— ”

  “I wanted to hang a painting,” I said easily. “Judith was checking the height I wanted.” I didn’t want Amelia to know we were sounding the walls for a hollow space. My new tale would certainly he hoisted on a petard, then.

  Judith said nothing, smart girl.

  “Judith also wanted to see George. She is second only to John in George’s affections,” I added. “He just went to sleep again. Judith, don’t you have to go back to your lessons now?”

  “Yes, Andy. May I come back perhaps early this evening? To play with George and to help hang your painting?”

  “Certainly, I would like that very much.”

  Amelia didn’t say another word until Judith had quietly closed the bedchamber door after her.

  “Yes, what else do you remember, Amelia?” I led her to a chair in front of the fireplace. George cocked open an eye, looked at her for a moment, then went back to a sleep.

  She sat down, fretting all the while with a loose thread on her sleeve. “I remember you calling to me. I remember standing there, just looking at that closed door, and doing absolutely nothing. I didn’t want to do anything. Then I set the candle branch on the floor and lay down on my side, my cheek pillowed against my hands.

  “I remember that I felt so very tired, just all of a sudden, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Then—”

  “For God’s sake, Amelia, spit it out.”

  “I’m not mad. I know I’m not mad.”

  “Tell me.”

  “I felt something very warm, something thickening the air above my head. But it wasn’t scary, Andy. Then there was this very soft voice, not really a voice, but I felt her voice deep inside my head, and she said something about how she was sorry, but I wasn’t the right one. Then I woke up a bit to see Thomas and John over me.”

  I didn’t say a word. I’d never been so afraid in my entire life, even last night and that dreadful old woman with that knife coming at me, wasn’t as scary as this.

  Because the old woman had been flesh and blood, and this wasn’t. Whatever this was, it wanted me, not Amelia. I had no doubt of that at all.

  “I didn’t want anyone to think me mad, but when Thomas admitted seeing a young lady here in The Blue Room, I knew it would be all right to tell you. You won’t tell anyone else, will you? Promise me, Andy. Thomas worries so. I don’t want him to become ill because he is distressed about me.”

  “All right.” I thought a moment, then said very slowly, very precisely, “Amelia, did you know that the empty room was Caroline’s music room?”

  “I suppose so. She died so long ago, there was no reason for me to remember. You believe she wanted you in that room, don’t you? Not me. You believe her ghost was there yesterday.”

  “It makes sense, does it not?”

  Amelia rose, that very soft jaw of hers set in hard lines. “I don’t care that Thomas doesn’t want me to, I am going to write my father now, Andy, right now.”

  “Good.”

  She marched out of my bedchamber before I could say another word. George raised his head and wuffed.

  I spent the next hour knocking on the walls, but there was no hollow sound. Then I heard something. I quickly turned to look at the door. I saw the doorknob slowly turn. I nearly fell off my stool.

  Then there came a quiet knock.

  I had to get hold of myself. I had locked the damned door. I went to open it.

  It wasn’t Caroline or that old woman. It was Belinda.

  She gave me a bright smile. “His lordship said you were napping, a good thing, I say. Did it clean all the ghostly webs out of your mind, my lady?”

  “There’s not a single web left.”

  “Good. Wicked dreams are like some men, my ma used to tell me. Sometimes they can just burrow in, and it takes the devil himself to yank them out.” She continued talking while she pulled out the gown she deemed appropriate for me to wear to dinner. She didn’t ask me, simply nodded when she smoothed out the lovely skirt of a pale peach silk gown, with a crepe overskirt of a darker shade.

  “Now, ribbons,” Belinda continued to herself. “Yes, here they are, all tangled up. Now, how did that happen?”

  She turned to see me still standing there, staring at nothing at all.

  “It is being in a new house as well,” she said, sounding like a comforting nanny with a new charge. “New houses can make a body as nervous as a canary drinking a cat’s milk. Now, a bath will help you.”

  And so it was that an hour later, my hair finally dry, I knocked on Miss Crislock’s bedchamber door and let her worry herself over me for a good five minutes. When she’d finally exhausted all of her concerns, given me all her advice, patted my arm at least six times, she said, “Now, don’t you fret, Andy, about me. I am just fine. Everyone is quite helpful, Mrs. Redbreast especially. I do not believe I will join the family this evening. I am a bit on the bilious side, not a charming thing for a new family to see. You enjoy yourself, my dear, and try to forget the strange things that have happened, or that haven’t happened, as the case may be.” And I kissed her, hugged her tightly, wishing she weren’t bilious, then walked down the main staircase, my shoulders back.

  Belinda had assured me that I looked such a sweet lovely lady. I would rather have looked ill-tempered, ugly, and had a gun in my pocket. A gun, I thought. Now, where would I get a gun? Just the thought of being able to protect myself made me slough off a good portion of the grinding fear.

  “My lady,” Brantley said. “May I say that you are looking no worse for all your adventures?”

  “You certainly may, Brantley. Thank you.”

  He came closer, and to my astonishment, he appeared confiding. He said in a lowered voice, “It is a very fortunate thing that Lord and Lady Appleby just left and you were spared their onerous company.”

  “Are they so very dreadful, Brantley?”

  “They are more dreadful than that Cockly boy in the village, who painted all the ducks that swim in the pond in the middle of the green.”

  “Painted them? Goodness, what color?”

  Brantley actually shuddered. “Pink. The little booby painted them pink.”

  “However,” my husband said, coming out of the drawing room to join us, “her ladyship will be pleased to hear that we are going to have a ball in her honor, three weeks from now, on Friday night.”

  “That will be two weeks before Christmas, Uncle Lawrence.”

  “Indeed, it will, Amelia. Ours will be the first party of the season, and with Andy arranging for it, it will also be the fines
t. What do you think of that, Andy?”

  “A Christmas party. I should love that. Grandfather always held a huge affair at Deerfield Hall every Christmas. It is very nice of you, Lawrence. I hope that everyone involves themselves.” Actually, I wasn’t at all certain what I felt about a Christmas party at all. So much had happened so quickly, and now I was to arrange a ball?

  Amelia said, “Oh, yes, you are not to worry, Andy. Unfortunately, I fear that we are now in for it. Lord and Lady Appleby were just here. Their daughter, Lucinda, was gushing all over John. Her predatory mama has set her eyes on John. He should be prepared to go to ground, for she’s got him in her sights.” Then she giggled.

  I smiled as well when John and Thomas came into the Old Hall. Both of them were frowning, but for very different reasons.

  “You have already attached a local girl, John?”

  “What? Oh, you mean Miss Appleby.” I do believe he shuddered, just like Brantley had when he spoke of the Cockly boy painting the ducks. “She’s a child.”

  “What is this, John?” Amelia said. “She is only two years younger than Andy. Ah, the soulful looks she was casting in your direction. I thought one of her lesser efforts looked like a painful squint. I was just telling Uncle Lawrence that Mama Appleby wants to snag you for her little darling.”

  Amelia stopped cold. She was by her husband’s side in the next instant, touching her white fingers to his cheeks, his forehead. “Oh, Thomas, my dearest, whatever is the matter? Are you ill? What pains you? Tell me what isn’t right so that I may fix it.”

  “It is nothing,” Thomas said, and shook his head at something that only he knew about. Without another word, he marched back into the drawing room. Amelia stared after him, her mouth gaped open.

  “I don’t believe this,” Lawrence said slowly, staring after his retreating nephew. “He had a chance to establish a new illness or injury or pain, and he didn’t. What is going on with your husband, Amelia?”

  She said quietly, staring after Thomas, “I don’t know. It worries me.”

  Miss Gillbank again joined us for dinner. She was wearing one of my gowns that Belinda had altered for her, a charming pale blue muslin confection that was simple and elegant, perfectly suited to her classic features. She asked about Miss Crislock, whom she and Judith had met this afternoon in the east garden.