“May I see?” she asked.
He shrugged and turned along the side of the church. “It’s already open. I only came up when I heard the door open. I thought it was himself.”
There was a lantern at the top of a flight of stone steps. Without another word, Graham took her hand and guided her downward. The mist was beginning to swirl in, too.
There wasn’t much to see: a marble table topped with a vase of lilies and daffodils and marble panels around the walls carved with names. Graham handed her the lantern and let her wander. There were a lot of names, names that meant little to her but went back a long way.
“No wonder the house, the land, and the village all bear the same name,” she remarked, coming to the panel not yet filled. The last name was Robert Usher 1784 – 1816. “How did he die?”
“Robert? He drowned. In the loch.”
“How tragic!”
“It was. In many ways.”
She glanced at him. In the dim lantern light, his face was stern as well as rueful. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he was a tragic loss. He died too young. But his death tied the major to this place.”
“Is that not a good thing?”
Graham shrugged. “He thinks it is. He thinks he’ll heal here.” He cast her a quick, sideways glance. “You know he was wounded?”
She nodded. And in how many different ways. “But you don’t think he will?” she prompted.
“I thought not. But it’s done him good to have visitors. Life is infectious. If you see what I mean.”
“He needs company?” she guessed.
“In my humble opinion.”
“Only, you’re not so humble, are you, Graham?” she said shrewdly. “Have you been long with Mr. Usher?”
“Six years, miss. Since he was a mere lieutenant.”
“And you left the army when he did?”
“Happy to. He’s looked after me often enough.”
She glanced back at the wall. Just for an instant, she imagined another name under Robert’s, and shivered. He had so nearly died in such awful circumstances. “Thank you for showing me. I think I’ll go back to the house now.”
Graham followed her part of the way up, holding the lantern high to light her way. Then he walked back down the steps. As she picked her way along the side of the church back to the path, she couldn’t help wondering what on earth he was doing down there. Polishing the marble perhaps to keep the names bright. Whatever it was, she knew Graham did it because Roderick couldn’t. He would never face going into the dark, enclosed, airless crypt.
Chapter Five
As though she had conjured him from her thoughts on the way down the hill, Roderick Usher rode out of the mist, almost soundlessly. So far as she could tell, he’d come up the driveway. Certainly, they arrived together at the arch to the courtyard.
His big horse snorted. She had to look up and up to meet his gaze. He looked large and distant and stern, though he removed his hat politely enough.
“Mr. Usher,” Madeleine said, hiding her sudden nervousness. “Does the sun break through a mile further down the road?”
“Sadly, no, nor five miles.” He dismounted with the ease of long practice—one of the things she had discovered last night was that he had been a cavalryman—and guided her through the arch. “At the moment, it looks as if the sun will never shine again. I’m glad you’ve decided to postpone your journey.”
“Though sadly, I can see little of the beauty of your country.”
His lips twitched, and she saw that he wasn’t stern at all, but, perhaps, as nervous as she. It was a heady possibility, to think that she could have such an effect on such a man.
“Come, now, Miss Deare, you can’t pretend you see no beauty in this shrouding mist. Who knows what nefarious deeds and villains and ghostly activities go on beneath its cover?”
“Perhaps you should write Gothic novels, Mr. Usher,” she replied with dignity.
“I have enough vices, thank you.”
She regarded him uncertainly. His eyes gleamed with humor, and she laughed. “For that, I shall write one of my own and dedicate it to you for spite.”
“I would be honored,” he assured her. “Do you want to go inside to the warmth, or would you like to see the stables?”
Of course, she chose the stables, where she met his other horses and his groom and admired the age of the building. It formed part of the courtyard. Then he led her through the kitchens to the part of the house she had not yet seen. Most of the rooms were clearly not in use – a sitting room with furniture in Holland covers, a large library stretching around the corner of the building, and then a couple more rooms which were empty, with blackened walls and boarded windows. A faint, stale smell of burning lingered in the air.
“What happened?” Madeleine asked.
“There was a fire. The night my brother died.”
She glanced at his closed expression. “Are they connected?”
He shook his head. “No.” He shut the door with a snap and strode on.
As they reached the front hallway, Sonya came out of the sitting room. “There you are!” she exclaimed. “I thought you had got lost in the mist.”
Roderick bowed to them both. “I believe there will be a luncheon served in half an hour. Ladies.”
To Madeleine’s disappointment, he ran lightly upstairs and away from them. She had no idea if he meant to join them for luncheon.
In fact, he did. And afterward, he showed Sonya the library and they all ended up there. Over the books and the conversation that flowed from the discovery of various rare and valuable volumes, he began to seem less restless, more at ease in the company. His dry humor made more frequent appearances and made everyone laugh, including Daniel.
Shortly after three, Daniel waved one hand at the nearest window. “Look. I believe the mist is lifting.”
“It’s definitely lighter,” Roderick agreed, walking to the window and peering out at the sky. “I expect it will have lifted altogether by the end of the afternoon. But you will not want to set off so late.”
“Could you bear us for another night?” Daniel asked lightly.
“For as many as you like,” Roderick replied, and his offer seemed genuine. The difference between this moment and his appalled reaction when they had first arrived was marked. “Please, consider staying tomorrow, too. Mrs. Menteith, our cook, insists that when the mist lifts, it will be fine for three whole days. So, you may see the country at its best.” He gave a quick, deprecating half smile. “If you are not in too much of a hurry to reach Edinburgh.”
Madeleine tried not to hold her breath. Daniel glanced at her, brows raised. At least he was looking for her opinion. She inclined her head, and he smiled. Apparently, he was of the same opinion. Perhaps his old friendship with Roderick was reviving.
“We don’t really need to be in Edinburgh until the end of the week,” Daniel said. “And it should only take us a couple of days from here at the most. So, if we won’t be putting you out too much, we would be very happy to stay another day.”
After tea, when the mist was more or less gone, they took a walk around the walled gardens surrounding the house, and Madelene saw that the property was not actually as neglected as she had first imagined. The gardens were kept in decent order, as were the stables, and the horses within them. The rooves didn’t leak. And if there were cobwebs and general griminess in some parts of the house, she was inclined to put that down to too few maids. And Roderick’s disinterest in the parts of the house he did not use.
She acquired the hint of another reason, too, as she and Sonya came downstairs for dinner. From the passage leading to the kitchens, a female voice scolded, “Where the devil have you been, Maggie? Mrs. M’s been yelling for you this half hour!”
“I’ve been with Mr. James, of course! Mrs. James is only just back, so I couldn’t leave him. I’m here now, so what…” The voices faded back toward the kitchen.
Why could the amiable Ja
mes Usher not be left? Whatever the reason, it seemed he took up the time of one of the too few house maids. Hence the cobwebs, perhaps.
No one could deny it was an interesting household.
But of course, it was the master who fascinated her. Not least because of her glimpse of him out of the window only an hour before. In old breeches and shirt sleeves, he’d been striding across the grass from the field beyond, listening to the man who trotted by his side, gesticulating wildly as he talked. Despite the recent mist and the fading daylight, both men’s sleeves were rolled up as if they’d just completed some hard, physical labor.
Madeleine had found it hard to look away, for though lean, Mr. Usher had well-muscled arms and legs. Despite his wounds and illness, he still had strength, and there was a secret pleasure in watching him, even in such a mundane setting. She liked the way he moved outside, quick and loose-limbed. And she was rather beguiled by the contrast between that physical side of him and the erudite, cultured man of such essentially indoor accomplishments as music and art.
He must have been a fascinating army officer. She could not help wondering why he was not married. Women across Europe must surely have thrown themselves at his head. Or his feet. She didn’t like to think of the profound loneliness she sensed in him.
When she entered the sitting room, he stood by the window listening to Daniel telling one of his amusing stories. His gaze swung immediately to her and held so long that she blushed.
She wore her best evening gown, a rose-red embroidered cream silk that had been much admired the only other time she wore it in St. Petersburg before her father’s illness. With it, she wore a dainty garnet necklace and matching earrings which had been a parting gift from the Tsarina. She knew, as Roderick’s gaze clung to her, exactly why she had worn it. For an instant, panic soared at the strength and suddenness of her feelings, but then he was before her, bowing over her hand and Sonya’s, leading them to the sofa.
“What would you like to drink? Ratafia? Sherry?” he asked politely, and was then distracted by the arrival of his slightly disheveled looking uncle and aunt. Only as she took his arm to go into dinner did he say almost beneath his breath, “You are dazzling.”
“It’s the garnets.”
“No,” he said. “It isn’t.”
Since she sat beside him at dinner, it was an hour of almost excruciating delight. He did not hide the admiration in his dark eyes. She had never felt so nervous or so alive, so full of wonder and hope and fear. Fear that she was wrong about the genuine nature of his admiration. Fear that she was right.
“So, you are staying tomorrow night also?” Mrs. Usher said once. “How agreeable! Perhaps you could even stay until next week?”
“Sadly not,” Daniel replied. “We have an engagement in Edinburgh on Saturday. The Duke of Kintyre’s ball.”
“Ah, yes. I remember his father,” Mrs. Usher said. “Disagreeably proud, I always thought him. But then, I suppose you’re allowed to be if you’re a duke.” She turned to Roderick. “You know the present duke, do you not? In fact, were you not invited to this ball, too?”
“I shouldn’t think so,” Roderick said.
“Yes, you were, dear. The card is still on the mantelpiece. I can see it from here.”
Roderick blinked. “Then I haven’t answered it, so the outcome is the same. More wine, Aunt? Deare?”
“You should come,” Daniel said to him. “I’m sure it will make for a merry evening.”
“I don’t go to balls,” Roderick said starkly, his refusal just a little hurtful to Madeleine.
“That’s not what I know of Wellington’s officers,” Daniel countered. “Come, give yourself a treat!”
“I believe I shall rather give Kintyre one, and stay away,” Roderick said dryly.
“What else should we do while we are in Edinburgh?” Madeleine asked to change the subject.
She barely heard the Ushers’ suggestions, for she was trying desperately to deal with her foolish hopes. It was clear now that Roderick was merely passing the time with a little light and harmless flirtation. If he had meant more, he would surely have made the effort to come to Edinburgh, to dance with her…
By the time the ladies repaired to the sitting room, she had herself better in hand. She realized she had made more of their friendship than could possibly be there in so short an acquaintance. But she refused to ignore the friendship from some foolish sense of girlish pique that he would not run after her with dog-like devotion. In truth, she would probably think less of him if he did.
As a result, when the gentleman joined them not very much later, she was quite happy to sit at the piano with him and play duets.
“Will you come and talk with me again this evening?” he murmured in the middle of their discussion of a second piece.
She blinked. “I’m talking to you now.”
He met her gaze, and his lips curved. “Alone.”
Realizing what he meant, she felt her eyes widen. “Of course not!” She picked up a random sheet of music. “This one,” she said determinedly.
He glanced at it. “It’s a funeral march.”
She giggled before she meant to. “Very well, that might lower our spirits too far. This, then…”
The moment passed off, though his request lingered with her, improper, blatant, and yet tempting. Even so, she had no intention of acceding and, surely, he knew that. In the meantime, she was only too aware of his shoulder against hers, of the nearness of his hip, and the occasional brush of his thigh that sent thrills soaring though her body. His long, sensitive hands on the keys all but transfixed her. How would they feel on her skin, her arms, her cheeks?
Stop!
She was glad, once the exquisite torture was over, to have an excuse to leave the room for a minute. As she sat down on the sofa beside Mrs. Usher, the old lady was rummaging around her.
“My reticule,” she murmured. “What have I done with it? I have my handkerchief in it, and my tonic.”
“Perhaps you left it in the dining room?” Madeleine suggested.
Mrs. Usher brightened. “I probably did! I’ll just ask Roderick—”
“No need, ma’am. Let me fetch it.”
The cool air in the hall was pleasant, reviving, as she hurried across to the dining room. She discovered the missing reticule beside Mrs. Usher’s chair and made her way back across the hall. It spoke volumes for her nerves that when the siting room door opened suddenly, she started and dropped the reticule.”
“Sorry,” Roderick said, striding over. “I’m told I’m too abrupt.”
“No, no, it’s I who am clumsy,” Madeleine said, hastily bending to pick up the reticule. But he was before her, seizing it first and taking her hand to help her straighten.
For an instant, they stood too close together. Her heart hammered, and she could hear the ragged pull of his breath. His intense eyes dropped to the region of her lips, and her stomach seemed to dive so fast, it paralyzed her. He leaned closer yet, bending his head.
Her lips parted in agitation, but at the last moment, he changed direction, and his breath kissed her ear. “Come later,” he whispered. “Please.”
And then he left her, striding across the hall to the passage beyond.
Staring after him, wondering what if anything had just happened, she closed her mouth and took a deep breath. Then she walked into the sitting room and restored the missing reticule to Mrs. Usher.
When Roderick returned some fifteen minutes later, he made no further effort to corner her, persuade her, or even to speak privately with her. In fact, he appeared to have gone to the library to fetch a book for Sonya which pertained to something they had been discussing earlier.
And when they retired for the night, with agreements to go for a ride around the loch tomorrow morning, he did not single her out, merely bowed over her hand, and wished her good night. Deliberately, she never once glanced at the door that led to the spiral stair case. With her brother and Sonya, she used the main staircas
e and vowed to stay in her room.
And yet when Mercer came to undress her, she sent her away again when she had merely unfastened her laces. Sonya, who was about to leave, turned back as Mercer left.
“Is everything well, Madeleine?” she asked with a note of concern.
Madeleine smiled. “Of course. Why do you ask?”
“You seem a little…agitated.”
She shook her head. “No, no. I think I am probably tired.”
“And yet you mean to sit up. You always do when you send Mercer away before you are in bed.”
Madeleine laughed. “You know me too well.”
“Is it Roderick Usher?” Sonya asked bluntly. “Does he…disturb you?”
“A little,” she confessed. “He is very different to anyone else I have ever met.”
“He is an interesting man,” Sonya allowed. “Handsome in his own way. And that particular combination of strength and vulnerability can be irresistible.”
Madeleine glanced at her, somehow not quite pleased. “You like him, too.”
Sonya snorted. “He is too young for me.”
“He is the same age as you,” Madeleine retorted.
“He is too young for me,” Sonya repeated, “and too old for you in any way I can think of. Do not brood, Maddy. You will meet many people in Edinburgh. Young men with less…burdens. Good night.”
When she had gone, Madeleine curled up on the window seat, drawing her knees under her chin in her old, childish posture. But as she gazed out at the same scenery as last night, only with more stars to gladden the sky, she knew she was no longer a child. She was twenty years old, and she had met many dashing and attractive men, some of whom had even quickened her pulse. But none of them had affected her as Roderick Usher did.
He’d tried to make a clandestine assignation with her. That alone made him improper, less honorable than she would hope for in a husband. Husband, dear God, where did that word come from? And yet somehow it did not seem dishonorable in him. She could almost believe he simply wanted to talk to her again, a repeat of last night’s meeting of minds. Only he knew that no one else would understand. Only she should understand.
Madeleine Page 5
