The Countess (13 page)

Her eyes brightened. I helped her to sit up. “What happened? Why are you all here? What time is it?”

“You've been sleeping—if you wish to call it that—for well over three hours. It's nearly two o'clock in the afternoon.”

Thomas slipped his hands under my arms and lifted me off Amelia's bed. He took my place, his palm against her forehead. “Does your head ache, dearest? I have the mixture that you gave to me that proved so very effective for my headache last Tuesday.”

“No, Thomas, I feel quite well.”

“Do you remember when we left the Black Chamber, Amelia?”

“Yes, certainly. What of it?”

“We were walking down the corridor of the west wing when suddenly you stopped and looked at a door that was open. You said something about that was odd and went in to look. Do you remember that?”

She was silent for at least a full minute. I felt a chill run up and down my arms even as I watched her. I was frightened. This just wasn't right. What had happened in that empty room?

She said finally, “What I remember, Andy, is that we were talking about my father and ghosts and otherworldly phenomena and then—” She looked down at her white hands. I watched Thomas caress her
shoulders, bring her into his arms. He gave me a dirty look. Then she pulled away. “No, there is nothing else I remember, Andy. There is simply nothing else.”

I said then, drawing a deep breath, “There is simply nothing to explain this. Amelia doesn't remember anything at all. I think we must have a ghost at work here.”

“That is rubbish,” said John, the first words out of him since we had come into Amelia's bedchamber.

“You don't know what you're talking about, John.” I turned on him. “You weren't there.”

“I have never seen or heard or experienced anything in this house since I was twelve years old that was remotely like some damned ghost. Forget it.”

“Very well, then how do you explain what happened to Amelia?”

“I can't, but that doesn't mean there isn't a good explanation.”

I turned back to Amelia, who was leaning against Thomas. He was lightly stroking his fingers through her hair. I said, “I believe, Amelia, that you should write your father. I think he should visit Devbridge Manor and search out the spirit that drew you into that room. Do you think he will come?”

“Oh, yes, if I write what happened, he will be here in a trice.”

“Now, see here, Andy,” Thomas said, “you don't know anything. Of course there are ghosts here, every old house has ghosts, dozens of them. However, our ghosts just do not seem to ever announce their presence. If there was a ghost in that room with Amelia, it didn't do anything bad or frightening, it
just put Amelia to sleep. And she needed sleep after last night when she became so exhausted.”

“Why was she exhausted last night?”

He flushed scarlet, and I remembered the comments at the breakfast table. I just shook my head. “Never mind. Amelia, have you had anything like that happen since you came to Devbridge Manor?”

“No,” she said slowly, “this was the first time, but don't you see, Andy? I don't even know if anything happened. Perhaps I just had a sudden urge to nap and did.”

“On the floor in the middle of an empty room? Listen to me, all of you. Who's to say that what happened to Amelia won't happen again? What if next time she doesn't just lie down and sleep? What if she goes to sleep but doesn't wake up? There must be some answers. We have to find them.”

“I don't like this,” John said. “I don't like what happened, and I don't like reducing all of it to a damned dead spirit.”

I turned on him. “Then you come up with something else, John. If all you can do is find fault, then you are not being very useful, are you?”

“I will think about it,” he said to me, a wealth of dislike in his voice. “Oh, the devil.” Then he held out his hand. “Come along, it's time for you to ride Small Bess. I'll take you around the property.”

Before I went with him, I said, “Amelia, I don't want you to be alone. All right?”

“All right,” she whispered, and I knew she was frightened. I was sorry about that, but she needed to be frightened. That way she would be careful. “Don't forget to write your father, immediately.”

Thomas was sputtering when we left the bedchamber.

“Don't mind Thomas,” his brother said, his voice hard with irony. “He wants to be the center of Amelia's existence. He doesn't want anything to detract from her complete attention to him and him alone.”

We were nearly to the stables when I said, “I forgot George. I forgot my riding clothes.”

“I'll wait for you at the stables,” he said. He raised his hand a moment, then looked off toward the home wood. He turned and left me.

In the end I didn't ride with John. Swanson, unable to bear the yelling of two newborn babes, took his own mother over to see to his new little boys, and brought himself to Devbridge Manor, to escape in the intricacies of estate management.

John was requested to join his uncle and Swanson.

George and I had a marvelous time. We didn't ride far because I didn't want to get lost. Small Bess suited me very well.

I was even singing at the top of my lungs at one point. We'd pulled up beside a small stream that bisected east to west near the Manor. George was drinking, and I was just looking around at the soft late afternoon light sifting through the willow trees that bordered the stream.

A beautiful place, I thought, a perfect place. I would be happy here. Once Amelia's father arrived to rid us of that strange spirit, then all would be well again.

But what about the bars? I would ask my husband about them. It would be nothing, I was sure of it.

I carried George back to the Manor in my arms. I was whistling.

U
pon my return, George insisted on running up the staircase beside me, his little legs stretched and lunging. His tongue was lolling, and he was breathing hard by the time we reached the first landing. I slowed my step. We passed three servants—one footman and two maids. I stopped, nodded to both of them, and asked their names. I introduced them to George and asked that if they ever saw him alone to make certain he wasn't lost.

Belinda was in my bedchamber, smoothing out a lovely dinner gown of the palest green silk with small capped sleeves and a darker green velvet band beneath the breasts. There was the same darker green edging at the neckline and the hem. It was one of my favorite gowns—one I hadn't worn, of course, since Grandfather's death. I'd instructed Belinda to leave all my black gowns folded away in a big box in the dressing room. Grandfather had hated black, and I'd worn it only three months. It was enough. Lawrence had agreed when I had asked him what he'd thought. I remembered he'd said, “Your
grandfather was a passionate man, overflowing with life and endless purpose. Somehow black seems indecent for such a man. Put the black gowns and veils away.” And so I had, grateful for his belief.

“Ah, there you are, my lady,” Belinda said. “I just finished doing for Miss Crislock—a lovely lady and ever so nice she is—and she's all fit and proper now, her hair all curled up in the most clever way. All the family is to be in the drawing room in thirty minutes. His lordship likes the family to meet there for an hour before dinner is served. I was beginning to worry that you wouldn't be back in time.”

“I'm here,” I said. As I walked near her, she sniffed. “Oh, dear, I'll order up water for a bath. We must hurry. This time I will allow a footman to bring the water.”

With Belinda's help, I was walking to the drawing room door a half hour later, George at my side. She had even found time to twist and wind pale green ribbons through the braids atop my head. I looked quite fine, she'd told me.

As for my best friend, Brantley had sent Jasper, that very nice young footman whom George liked. George wasn't stupid, and he knew a besotted human when he saw one that would give him a good brushing. Now George looked quite pleased with himself and his appearance. Silky soft hair flopped over his eyes.

There were two things I wanted to ask my husband as soon as I could get him alone.

Brantley showed me into the drawing room, looking at me carefully, I thought, to see if there were no ill effects from my earlier fall. I saw my main question was right in front of me.

Miss Gillbank and Judith were seated side by side on a lovely blue-and-white-striped settee, facing my husband. Thomas stood behind Amelia, his left hand on her shoulder. John was leaning against the mantel, his arms crossed over his chest. Miss Crislock was tatting something white and narrow. A low blaze burned in the fireplace. My husband rose immediately when I came into the room. I saw him look from me to Judith. I would swear that he was girding his loins, metaphorically speaking, to spit out the truth. He was smart. He was doing it in public, not in private. I would not forget his strategy. I found this fascinating. My husband was nervous. Did he believe I would blast him in front of his family?

He cleared his throat as he took my hand in his. “Andy, I would like you to meet my daughter, Judith, and her governess, Miss Gillbank.”

I looked him straight in the eye and said, “I don't want to meet either of them, sir. They don't look at all like nice people.” I turned to give Judith a quick wink. She giggled, then smacked her hand over her mouth as she saw her father's face. He had paled. He looked horrified. He was without words.

I heard Amelia gasp.

Then I laughed. “Sir,” I said, “I was jesting with you. Please forgive me.”

I gave him a fat smile, for I suppose I had already forgiven him for not telling me about Judith or about a second wife. After all, whatever his reasons, they couldn't be that bad. “Actually,” I said, still grinning shamelessly up at him, “I have already had the honor, my lord. In the small east garden earlier this afternoon. Not only have we become acquainted, we
have also discovered we can bear each other's company.”

George, who had been sitting very quietly beside me, now wuffed lightly. Judith leapt up from the settee, only to have Miss Gillbank gently pull her back.

I said, “I'm sorry, Judith, but George isn't speaking to you. He's calling out to John. He adores John. He worships him. It is unaccountable, but there is nothing any of us can do about it.” I leaned down to pat his little head. I could hear the surprise in my own voice as I said, “You may be enthusiastic now, George. Thank you for this magnificent show of restraint and good manners. You may go leap on John.”

George licked my hand, then dashed across the drawing room, yipping with every step, to be picked up by John. He raised an eyebrow toward me. “However did you manage to keep him so polite? He sat there quietly and didn't demand a bit of attention until you gave him permission.”

“Brantley gave him instructions this morning when Amelia and I were at the stables. Whatever he did, it is an amazing result. We shall have to ask about his specific methods. I think he has shown more magic than you have, John.

“It is a relief,” said Amelia. “He doesn't look quite so ill kempt as he did last night.”

“No, Jasper brushed him a hundred strokes.”

Amelia touched her fingers to her own glorious black hair, and I wondered how many strokes she pulled through hair every night. She said, “So, Judith, you have already met your new stepmama and George?”

“Oh, yes,” Judith said, her eyes still fastened on George, who had his eyes closed in bliss, since John's long fingers were rubbing in exactly the right place at the base of his left ear. “I did win a shilling off Andy. She hasn't paid me yet.”

“However did you do that?” Lawrence asked.

“Oh, dear,” I said. “Perhaps the wager itself isn't properly spoken of here.”

“Nonsense,” said Amelia. “What is it? The color of a certain flower? The scent of Judith's soap? What was your wager?”

Judith just blurted it out. “We bet on which bush George would use in the garden.”

“Which bush for what?” Amelia looked blank.

John was laughing so hard I thought he would drop my dog. George thought so to, because he twisted about in John's arms and licked his jaw to remind him he was still there.

Lawrence looked from me to John, but he spoke to his daughter. “Judith, what is this all about?”

“Sir,” she said, and immediately broke off, her innocent face flooding with color. “Oh, dear,” she added in a whisper, her eyes, now pleading, on Miss Gillbank's face. Miss Gillbank cleared her throat, stoking up her nerve, I thought.

John said, before Miss Gillbank could embark on what promised to be a delightful recital, his voice still shaking with laughter, “George, Uncle Lawrence, is a very selective animal. He needs to examine many bushes and plants and trees, even low-hanging ivy, before he makes the choice of which to use to relieve himself. It is nothing more than that. Judith, which tree or plant did you wager on?”

“I said he would use the rhododendron bush, and
he did. Andy couldn't believe it, since it's the only one in the garden, and it wasn't all that noticeable, but he went right to it after sniffing, then passing by, ever so many others.”

Miss Crislock looked up from her tatting, and nodded as she said, “The next time I walk George, I will make a wager with myself. Just maybe I will win.”

“Well,” my husband said, first eyeing Miss Crislock with a good deal of fascination, then eyeing the rest of us, his own eyes alight with humor now, “it appears that there will be no uncomfortable silences, no overly polite conversations in order to get through the evening. Andy, do you have a shilling to pay my daughter?”

“I shall present your shilling to you tomorrow, Judith.” I smiled around at all the assembled family, remembered that Lawrence had said in passing that Amelia was a snob, and said with a good deal of enthusiasm, “Sir, we are very fortunate. Miss Gillbank agreed to dine with us tonight.”

I looked at Amelia as I spoke, but she wasn't paying any attention to me. She was kissing Thomas's hand. I found this show of affection between the two of them disconcerting. It made me uncomfortable, since this sort of thing between married people simply wasn't in my experience.

I added, turning back to my husband, “I believe I should also enjoy having my new stepdaughter dine with us as well.”

At that addition, I thought Miss Gillbank would leap up from her seat and throw her arms around me. As for Judith, she was so excited she couldn't keep still. She jumped up, let out a little squeak, then hurriedly sat down again.

“An excellent idea,” said my husband. Of course he knew blackmail when it smacked him in the face. He was a gentleman, I'll say that for him, and accepted what the cards dealt him.

And so it was that Brantley sent George back to The Blue Room in the devoted company of Jasper, but only after Judith had been allowed to pat his wet nose, and hug him until there was a colorful selection of dog hairs on her lovely gown.

In the vast dining room, I was pleased to see that my husband had had several sections of the table removed so we wouldn't all be shouting at each other over platters of food and a very ugly epergne made up of giant porcelain fruits.

I don't know how Brantley managed it, but the two additional dinner settings were in place when we came into the room.

To no one's particular surprise, everyone rubbed along quite nicely. Judith was very quiet, understandably, since she was crowded in among adults. But she smiled a lot. Miss Gillbank didn't have to worry about being condescended to. Perhaps Amelia would have been a bit cool to her if she herself hadn't been found napping on the floor of an empty room that very morning, with no logical explanation to be given. She was quieter than usual, but she was perfectly pleasant. I prayed she had written to her father.

Perhaps Lawrence was mistaken. If there was a snobbish bone in Amelia's body, I had yet to see it. As for Thomas, he told Miss Crislock about the exciting climb he and his friends had accomplished just three months before up Ben Nevis in Scotland.

Amelia said, “I was concerned, naturally, that he would become light-headed with the increase in
altitude, but he did marvelously well, only spraining his little finger when he grasped a rock and it came loose too quickly. It didn't impede his ascent at all.”

“It was very cold on top of Ben Nevis,” Thomas said to Judith. “You could see your breath, and here it was the middle of August. I'll tell you we were all wrapped up to our noses. When we reached the top, one of the lads broke out a bottle of champagne and we toasted each other. Of course, with my sprained little finger, it was difficult to hold the glass, but I managed.”

“Did the champagne freeze?” Miss Crislock asked.

“We drank it far too fast for that to happen,” Thomas said. “I choked only once, but the champagne was very cold, naturally, perhaps too cold for a throat such as mine.” Thomas then gave us all the most beautiful smile. “Amelia insists that she always sip the champagne first to see that it isn't overly chilled.”

I happened to look over at John, who was staring at his brother, his jaw nearly dropped to his chin. I suppose the brothers really didn't know each other all that well since John hadn't been about much in the past years. “Thomas,” I said, “I believe Amelia has played a jest on you. She is simply using your throat as an excuse to drink more than her share of champagne.”

“Is that true, dearest? Are you a tippler?”

“Not yet,” Amelia said.

“Ah,” said Miss Crislock, “I shall never forget the first time Andy had an after-dinner glass of port with her grandfather. The dear man was so very pleased.”

There was just a small silence before I laughed and
took another bite of the delicious chicken breast roasted in cream and curry sauce.

After dinner, Miss Gillbank took Judith away. Thomas and Amelia were speaking quietly in the corner, probably about her unexpected nap in that empty room and what it could possibly mean. John picked up a book on the exploits of some Frenchman called de Sade. I don't know why he was reading it, as he certainly didn't seem to be getting any pleasure from it. Every time I looked at him, he seemed to be perfectly appalled.