The Ghost Who Loved Me (11 page)

“You know nothing at all!”

James eyed her with a raised dark eyebrow. “I know this Anthony hasn’t come here for you yet as a real man in this would if he gave a damn! And he won’t come, even if he learns where Edward sent you from your maid. So your pining for him gets you nowhere, my lady.”

“I refuse to discuss him with you further,” Elizabeth snapped irately. “If you wish for my help, refrain from maligning the people I care about.”

“You should seek to care about those who feel the same for you, my lady,” James offered condescendingly. “I see no such evidence here, only a naïve woman who leaves herself open to being waylaid by blackguards.”

“You are just jealous you aren’t alive anymore,” Elizabeth said waspishly, wishing she could have bit her lip to see she that wounded him deeply.

James stared at her, the pained expression in his silver eyes deepening, but he made no reply, changing the subject abruptly. He gestured to the stack of books.

“You will find nothing in those books to tell us what happened to me,” James informed her coolly. “I have already looked to them for the answers. I told you where to look. You must get into the east tower room. The clues are there. I’m certain of it.”

“May I remind you there are several large wooden boards nailed across the door,” Elizabeth protested hotly. “I’m not strong enough to pry them off. How else do I get it opened?”

“You can order the footmen to open it for you.”

“They already think I’m deranged,” Elizabeth said ruefully and shook her head. “The room is said to be unsafe and the tower crumbling. My demanding them to open it will do nothing but create a scene.”

James grinned at her hesitance. “You are the Duchess of Westerleigh, madam. Methinks you can create all the scenes you like and none will gainsay you. They will have little choice but to do your bidding. What do you worry about? I hear them speaking through these walls. They all think ill of you and your husband. They know the castle will be closed and they lose their positions soon.”

Elizabeth’s face fell at his words. “Do they all really despise me?”

James chuckled at her crestfallen expression. “Aye, all but Pettigrew and Mrs. Abbot. Mrs. Gates doesn’t seem to like anyone overmuch. The rest are all young and thinking of only themselves.”

“Edward meant to sell Westerleigh,” Elizabeth disclosed to him, seeing the anger forming on James’ face to learn of it. “It’s entailed for his heir. He cannot sell it. Now he seeks to let it go back to the Crown in back taxes. It’s all very sad what is happening. I can do nothing for the servants here.”

“That is why we need to discover what happened to me that day. The secret lies in that room. I know it,” James replied softly in determination. “I must free myself from this place. I couldn’t bear to be alone forever, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth felt for him despite their constant warring this last day. She unconsciously reached out to comfort him, gasping as the hand she meant to lay upon his went right through it. The hair on her arms tingled from the cold sensation. He smiled sadly at her startled expression as she quickly drew back her hand.

“You feel so cold,” she complained as she rubbed her hand.

“You feel so warm,” James countered softly, his silver eyes meeting hers and holding them intently. “Why did you allow me to believe Wakefield was your lover? We both know he never touched you.”

“But how could you—?”

James smiled knowingly, reaching out to run a ghostly fingertip along her lower lip, making her gasp from the cold sensation. “As I said, I’ve had three hundred years on you to notice a great many things, madam. I know an innocent when I see one. The way you reacted in the library earlier; hardly the reaction of a worldly woman. And the night I came to your bed. You acted like a shrinking virgin. Hardly whets a ghost’s appetite to feel like a despoiler.”

Elizabeth blushed and stood up, moving away from him quickly. “Think what you wish. I have already warned you about invading my privacy.”

James smiled secretively. “I can think of no place I’d rather invade, my lady. You intrigue me. Not an easy feat for any woman after three hundred years.”

“I meant what I said!” She eyed him warningly as she placed a distance between them.

James laughed and bowed to her elaborately. “I shall endeavor to adhere to your rigid modesty, madam, and undermine it every step of the way if given an opportunity.”

Elizabeth laughed shortly. “You will get no opportunity of me, Sir Ghost. You behave yourself and I shall help you.”

“Very well, have it your way.”

“Then I shall direct Tom and the others to open the room. We will see what is inside. They will think me quite daft and laugh at me behind my back if the tower collapses. You better hope we find something inside there to make that debacle worthwhile.”

James chuckled at her woebegone expression. “They already laugh at you behind your back and think you daft. After this, they will think you a danger to all and fear you. Fear is a far better I think, madam.”

Elizabeth ignored the numerous servants who tried to intervene and talk her out of prying the boards off the tower room door. Mr. Pettigrew was finally enlisted to speak to her of the dangers involved of the potential collapse of the stone floor should they enter.

He was highly agitated as he watched four brawny footmen armed with hammers and pry bars walk passed them to the stone steps.

“Your Ladyship, I must protest this action at once,” the butler began again imperiously, puffed up and outraged. “It isn’t safe! The room hasn’t been used in over a century that I know of. Why take such risks?”

“I wish to see what is inside, Mr. Pettigrew,” Elizabeth said with a dimpled smile in the face of his growing concerns. “Think of it as a treasure hunt, sir! What grand fun we’ll all have! Just imagine what we will find up there!” And she giggled inanely with an exaggerated twitch, making the man wince to believe she was positively cracked.

“The tower is highly unsafe, my lady,” Pettigrew began again in earnest. “If you insist on having it opened I must ask you to remain down here until the footmen have it well in hand.”

“Oh fiddlesticks! Have you no sense of adventure, Mr. Pettigrew? You can’t tell me what to do! You can’t scold me! I’m the Duchess of Westerleigh!” Elizabeth admonished rather loudly with another high-pitched laugh. “I mean to be the first to lead the charge when the door opens! Stand aside, sir!”

“Oh dear me,” the butler fumed and shook his head at her hysterical rant, his expression filled with concern. “You are not well at all, Your Ladyship. Shall I fetch Annie for you? You seem highly excitable. Wouldn’t you rather go lie down?”

“But I don’t want to lie down! And you can’t make me! You can’t make me!” She then sing-songed it and wailed loudly, a shrill sound that made Pettigrew grimace in discomfort.

“Alright, you don’t have to lie down, M’lady! Just please stay here for your own safety. We will wait until the men have the room opened and declare it secure.”

The butler retreated to Mrs. Abbot’s side and the other servants who watched all with wide-eyed expressions in the hallway in the east wing.

“That is playing it rather thickly, don’t you think?” James regarded her with a shake of his head, his lips twitching in amusement at her antics. “You give new meaning to the word madness, Elizabeth. They will all talk about this for years.”

“Let them talk about it!” She albeit shrieked in response. “I mean to see what is up there!” The servants backed up several steps to see her conversing to the open air. “Come, James, let us see what lies up there!”

The servants shook their heads in shock, watching their mistress smile up at nothing and hold out her hand. James smiled and took it, escorting her up the stone steps where the men were all prying up boards and tossing them aside. They all mumbled and shook their heads, coughing from the dust motes being stirred up.

When the tower door at last swung open on creaking hinges and promptly collapsed, the footmen retreated in all haste, leaving her alone with just James on the stairs.

She peered through the darkness into the room. She held a candle holder up and struck a match on the stone wall and lit it. The gloom within became illuminated.

~ ~ ~

“You are on your own from here.” James stopped at the threshold, unable to cross. “I can’t go any further inside. If the door were not in pieces it would close to me.”

“Do you think there are spiders in here?” Elizabeth glanced in dismay at the many thick cobwebs dangling from the rafters within and shuddered. “I do so hate spiders!”

“It hasn’t been cleaned or aired out in centuries. There is no telling what is in there.”

“You might try to reassure me!”

James chuckled in amusement at her fearful expression. “You might try to keep your voice down before Pettigrew calls for the physician. Sound does echo up here. They are all surely listening below.”

“What should I be looking for?”

Elizabeth swallowed hard as she stepped into the room, looking into every corner warily. She saw many crates. They were strewn about the dust-covered floor.

It looked as though the room was used for storage at some point. Several broken pieces of furniture littered the room. Wooden boards covered the tower windows, keeping all light out. She set the candle down on a crate and looked about in disappointment.

“James? What am I looking for?” She looked back to the doorway and froze, seeing the look of horror magnified on his handsome face. “What is it? James! Can you hear me?” He was transfixed in his spot in the doorway, his silver eyes wide as if seeing something that wasn’t there.

~ ~ ~

As if blasted back to his own time, James saw himself standing before the tower door that afternoon, his hand indecisively upon the pull. He pushed it open, a light hitting his eyes.

He rubbed his eyes to clear them. He stepped inside the solar, seeing his former self there with Isabelle and him now an innocuous observer.

Isabelle was regally dressed, seated in a chair, her sewing lying in her lap. She looked up when he entered the room, her lovely smile fading in an instant when she saw it was him. Her blue eyes narrowed, her lips tightening in annoyance.

“Have you no sweet embrace for your husband? No kiss for me after being away for all these many months?” James regarded her with a shake of his dark head. She sat rooted to the chair, refusing to greet him properly. His silver eyes noted her stiffen at his mocking tone. “Of course you don’t. And why should you? We both know this marriage doesn’t please you. What does please you, my lady? I would know what that might be or we have nothing more to say to one another. I mean to petition the king for an annulment upon my return to Hampton Court. This marriage was a mistake for us both. I will see you are treated fairly, Isabelle. We cannot go on like this.”

“Will you take wine with me, my lord?” Isabelle gestured to the tray on the table and reached for the silver decanter. “Come sit and we will talk of it. You must be parched after your long journey.”

He stepped near where they sat, could smell her strange perfume. It was an unusual scent, one he never failed to attribute to her alone. Isabelle claimed a servant in the Queen’s household at Hampton Court made it especially for her. He vaguely wondered if his mistress was responsible for gifting his wife with such foul-smelling cologne.

It was a woodsy scent with hints of flowery extracts and exotic elements he couldn’t recognize. It was cloying and overwhelming, much like the lady herself.

He found it enough of a deterrent to sit further away from her. Designed to attract as it was, it only repelled. That servant who gifted her with it must have despised her, making him sure it was his mistress and no other.

“As I said, I will be fair to you Isabelle,” his other self began again. “I will be generous if you worry of money.”

“Ah yes, you would pay me off,” Isabelle muttered and rolled her eyes. “Who is she, James?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” James denied immediately but stopped at her growing smile.

“I’m not stupid, James,” Isabelle replied cuttingly, her blue eyes narrowed in dislike. “I have many friends at court. They say you keep a whore in your rooms on occasion while there. Though they didn’t know who she was, I am certain I will discover all soon. You wish to set me aside for a whore? You think Henry would allow it? I think not.”

“You cannot claim to be happy either, Isabelle,” James snapped angrily, wondering which of his servants told of his having a mistress. “Don’t you wish to find someone who pleases you more than I can?”

“It pleases me very much to be a duchess,” Isabelle remarked coolly and shrugged.

“You cannot have it both ways, my lady,” James argued angrily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I would not want either of us to be denied what happiness we might find.”

“More wine?” Isabelle merely listened as he outlined his plan to go to their monarch.

James nodded absently, not seeing the powder she injected into his goblet from the false ring she wore on her right hand. The large strange white stone was pulled aside and the powder fell into the goblet. She poured the wine and handed the goblet to him, pouring one for her.

He wanted to shout at his other self to not drink the wine. It was too late. He watched in dread as that other him foolishly drank from the goblet.

“So, you mean to set me aside for another, do you?” Isabelle toyed with the end of her long blonde braid dangling over her shoulder, her eyes meeting his without any hint of worry in them as she watched him drink. “And you think Henry would listen to you?”

“He would listen to us both, and you know well what I mean,” James argued as he sipped his wine. “You have not been at court recently. The stories of you being the king’s favorite mistress are all over. And if you are honest, you are not happy either, my lady. Admit it and let us be done with this pretense. If we both go to Henry, he might have some fondness for you and relent and allow us to petition the church for an annulment. I know him. He would consider it.”

“I think you exaggerate my importance to Henry. He did marry me to you, didn’t he? An annulment, you think? I think not, James. You will not be rid of me so easily so you can have your harlot back at Hampton Court. But I will be rid of you, and have another that pleases me far more.”

He watched with growing anger as his other self began to feel the effects of the drugged wine.

James coughed, his vision suddenly growing dim, his hand going to his throat, clawing at it, hearing her evil laughter as if from far away. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to rise but he fell to his knees on the stone floor. Through a mist he saw her standing over him, staring down at him pityingly.

“You should have stayed away, husband, especially on this day of all days.”

James fell forward on the solar floor and lay unmoving. He saw Isabelle sit back down and continue with her sewing, humming under her breath. He looked away from the sight, the bright light blocking all else out.

~ ~ ~

James opened his eyes, the drug making him incapable of moving for a time. He saw it was now night. He stared up at the full moon and the stars overheard, trying to clear his cluttered mind.

His head fell to the side on the rock slab in the center of a clearing. He saw nearly a hundred hooded robed figures standing around him, all holding burning torches in a circle.

James struggled futilely against his bonds, but to no avail. He was tied down upon the large flat rock, completely nude. He tried to speak but his tongue was heavy and thick in his mouth. His startled eyes noted the presence of another robed figure in the center of the circle.

The dark hood was thrown back.

It was Isabelle.

Her long white-blonde hair hung in waves to her hips. She undid the ties to her robe and it fell to the ground. She was completely nude underneath. She held something in her hand. He strained to see it in the darkness.

The others threw the torches onto the bonfire and began to chant all at once, the sound growing louder in his ears. He fought and strained against his bonds as Isabelle came closer. He saw the dagger she held in her right hand, his eyes widening as she came forward intently.

The others all pushed back their hoods. He stared in shock to see Father Creaton standing there, of many villagers he knew by name, both young and old, of servants who worked within the castle, and his own men all looking on with little expressions on their stony faces.

There was a large man who wore an ornate mask of a goat’s head. He stepped inside the circle away from all the others. He was walking towards Isabelle.

James couldn’t see the man’s face, fighting and clawing to free himself by now. He strained against his bonds in some hope to free himself as she came ever nearer to him, brandishing a long gleaming dagger.

His body jumped each time she cut into him with the dagger, dazedly watching her dance naked around his agonized form, seeing the robed figures were now all writhing upon the ground as she sliced and hacked away at him, his blood coating her naked breasts and thighs.

James was numb from the pain as he watched the goat-faced man approach her. The man removed his robe, his huge phallus jutting forward. He struggled to see the man’s face but he couldn’t see beyond the mask, watching with sickening horror as he lowered Isabelle to the ground.

He watched them couple frenziedly in front of the rock slab where he lay bleeding profusely from his many wounds. He heard his wife’s screams of pleasure as the goat-faced man impaled her over and over again upon the ground. He felt sick to see her wrapping her long pale legs about the man’s rutting hips.

Finally after what seemed an eternity, it was over, the pair groaning in mutual satisfaction. The goat-faced man moved away and stood naked in the center of the circle. Isabelle stood up, her body stained in his blood.

The others rose and the chanting began again. James saw Isabelle pick up the dagger from the ground, her face etched in a dreamy expression, her eyes glazed over as she came to stand over him.

James could hear his own voice trying to beg for his life in that moment. He could see his words had little impact on his wife. Isabelle didn’t hear him anymore, or ignored him if she did. She was speaking in a strange language, the meaning lost upon him.