A Christmas Charade (20 page)

“How can that be? You lived so many years at Stenton House.”

“Yes, but Clive was never home for Christmas. Before I married, I spent the holidays with Cousin Flora and Cousin Amelia. They’re dears, but quite old and set in their ways.”

It sounded as dreary as the Christmases Elizabeth had spent in the various houses where she had been employed as a companion. She shouldn’t complain, though. The past five years with Sir John and Lady Astley had made up for many a snub and indignity and for loneliness suffered in previous years.

“We’ll do our own caroling, Juliette. Let’s consult with Lady Harry. I’m sure she’ll want to make the holidays a happy occasion for her children.”

“When we drove down from London,” said Juliette, “I thought about miracles. I wondered if they still happen. For, surely, it’s a miracle I need to make this a happy Christmas.”

“Miracles do happen,” Elizabeth assured her and wished for just a very small one for herself.

The two young ladies were silent, each pursuing her own thoughts.

Juliette was the first to break the somber mood. She pushed Elizabeth toward the dressing table.

“Whatever you did to your hair, I like it. But it needs something … a bit of
je ne sais quoi
. Will you trust me?”

“I don’t dare. The last time you offered a suggestion on my hair, you wanted me to wear it flowing down my back.”

“No, nothing spectacular like that.” Juliette tilted her head this way and that in an attempt to catch every angle of Elizabeth’s coiffure. “Although I still say you ought to pin it up high and allow long curls to fall down the back of your head.”

“I don’t have curls.”

“There are such things as curl papers and curling irons.”

With one hand Juliette nudged her onto the stool in front of the dresser and reached for a pair of scissors with the other. “Let me see now.”

Elizabeth clasped both hands protectively to her head. “Juliette, don’t you dare! I’m afraid I’ve cut off too much as it is, and if I move my head, the hair will all come unpinned.”

“You didn’t do badly for a start.”

Juliette tugged a strand of hair from beneath Elizabeth’s fingers and shortened it to two inches. It hung straight and lifeless in front of Elizabeth’s right ear. Before she could protest, Juliette had cut a strand near the other ear.

Elizabeth suppressed a groan. It was awful!

“All we need now is a bit of water,” Juliette said cheerfully.

She dipped into the water pitcher and went to work, dampening the short strands, snipping a bit more, dampening again, then twisting the hair, and within moments short, wispy curls clung to Elizabeth’s ears and temples.

“Now, what do you say?”

“Thank you,” breathed Elizabeth. The girl she had once been was beginning to reappear. Surely Stenton would recognize her now.

Juliette picked her shawl off the bed. “Let’s go down, shall we? If we want caroling tomorrow night, we’ll have to find singers and practice.”

“Perhaps we ought to discover first what Stenton may have planned.”

“Clive?”

Juliette looked so astonished that Elizabeth laughed. “Yes, your cousin Clive. It’s his party, you know!”

“Not a bit of it. If Fanny and Margaret hadn’t decorated the Great Hall yesterday, we wouldn’t even know this is a Christmas party.
I
don’t know why he asked us here in the first place. He’s forever off doing what he pleases and leaves his guests to fend for themselves. You must have noticed that yourself.”

“Well, no. But, then, I haven’t been here as long as you have.”

“And all day yesterday,” said Juliette with a quick, sympathetic smile, “you were asleep. Believe me, you missed nothing but Uncle Decimus’s stories about smugglers.”

Smugglers
. All of a sudden Elizabeth understood what must have happened. Stenton had heard of the smugglers’ activities on his property and had come to put a stop to them. Foolish man! He should have notified the Home Office. Catching smugglers was the business of the Revenue Service, not of a single, inexperienced man.

Juliette misunderstood her silence. “I am sorry, Elizabeth. I shouldn’t have mentioned the free-traders. It was one of them who attacked you, wasn’t it?”

“So your cousin believes.”

He also believed that she’d had a tryst with that same smuggler! Elizabeth deemed it advisable to change the subject.

“Never mind about the smugglers, Juliette. There’s something I want to ask you. But first you must promise not to mention it to a soul.”

Juliette, who had started for the door, stopped and gave her a wide-eyed look. “I promise. What is it, Elizabeth? Oh! Have you found the treasure Fanny and Margaret are always carrying on about? Was it hidden in your room?”

“Surely you don’t think
I
would keep that to myself!”

A roguish look lit Juliette’s eye. “
I
would if I were you. Just think! You’d never have to be a companion again.”

“True. But on the whole,” Elizabeth said dryly, “I prefer the life of a companion to that of a convict in New South Wales.”

Juliette giggled. “Dear Elizabeth. Always so prosaic. But pray don’t keep me in suspense. What is it you wanted to say? Or ask?”

“Have you ever had it happen that someone spoke to you here at the castle—I mean, someone you could not see?”

“Of course.” Juliette looked puzzled and disappointed. “When I was in a different room from the speaker.”

“No, that’s not what I’m talking about. Someone in the same room, but you couldn’t see anyone.” Elizabeth hesitated. “A … ghost.”

“A ghost?” Juliette’s eyes widened. “I take back everything I ever said or thought about your being sensible or prosaic. Have you encountered a ghost here at Stenton?”

Feeling rather foolish, Elizabeth admitted that she might have.

“Unless,” she said, “I have started talking to myself. Which, you must agree, would be worse than speaking with a ghost.”

Juliette nodded absently. “Do you remember when we believed we heard someone clap and you said it must be wood beetles?”

“
You
said it was wood beetles. I merely suspected the timbers of creaking and crackling with age.”

“What did he say to you, the ghost? Oh, I wish I could have met him, too!”

“It’s a female. Sounded quite young, I thought.”

“Piffle!” said Annie, feeling obliged to make her presence known. “I’m not all that young. And you
have
met me, Miss Juliette. I called you and your husband a set of silly gudgeons.”

Juliette dropped her shawl. The ardent wish to meet the ghost forgotten, she drew closer to Elizabeth and grasped for her hand.

“Did you hear that, Elizabeth?” she whispered.

Elizabeth could only nod. Her throat was dry; her skin cold. She wasn’t sure whether she was glad or terrified to have the presence of a ghost confirmed.

She looked toward the bed; the voice had come from there. “Who …” She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Who are you?”

“I’m Annie. You aren’t afraid of me, are you?”

“I don’t know,” Elizabeth said truthfully. She could feel Juliette trembling and, perversely, became quite calm. “Certainly the notion of having a ghost around takes some getting used to.”

Annie chuckled. “Oh, you’ll get used to me. I’ve no doubts about that.”

“Don’t you?” asked Juliette, gathering courage. “Are you planning to visit us again?”

“Of course. I’m going to help you make up with the major.”

Juliette took a step toward the voice. “You are? Truly?”

“Wait and see if I don’t.”

“But how?”

“Wait and see,” said Annie, flitting off soundlessly.

“Won’t you give me a hint of what you’re planning to do?” asked Juliette but, of course, received no reply.

Elizabeth pulled her shawl tighter. She was neither cold nor afraid. It was rather that she suddenly felt … alone. But she wasn’t. Juliette was still with her.

“I think she’s gone, Juliette.”

“Oh. How do you know?”

“Something is … different. I wonder who she is. She said her name is Annie.”

Juliette retrieved her shawl and slung it around her shoulders. “Let’s see if we can find Decimus. He knows the castle’s history like no one else. He must know about the ghost. And I shall be very cross with him for not telling me.”

No longer afraid, Juliette was as excited as a child. Taking Elizabeth’s hand, she dragged her into the corridor. When they were even with the door to Stewart’s room, she hesitated, then stopped.

“Excuse me a moment, will you, Elizabeth? I just had the most famous notion.”

Without waiting for a reply, Juliette knocked on the door. John Piggott opened.

“John.” She directed a brilliant smile at the batman. “Is the major in?”

“No, ma’am. Haven’t seen him since he left for church.”

“Oh, well. I don’t suppose it matters.”

She brushed past him into Stewart’s chamber. In less than a minute, she was back in the corridor.

“Thank you, John,” she said graciously, but Elizabeth was quick to note the triumphant glitter in her eyes.

“What did you do, Juliette?”

Putting a finger to her mouth, Juliette shook her head and hurried off. She did not reply until they reached the stairs.

“I unlocked the connecting door and pocketed the key.”

“Good for you. I doubt you’ll need the assistance of a ghost. You’re doing quite nicely on your own.”

“It doesn’t do to sit still and wait for miracles to happen,” Juliette said sagely. “Mind you, I’ll accept all the help I can get, but in the meantime I’ll fight with every weapon I have.”

“An excellent resolution.” Elizabeth touched the emerald brooch at the neck of her gown. “There are many weapons at a woman’s disposal, not the least of which are resolve and determination.”

Juliette gave her a sidelong look. But they had reached the Great Hall, and Elizabeth was quick to change the subject before Juliette could follow up on that look with questions.

“Now where do you suppose we can find Lord Decimus? Shall we ask the footman?”

The footman stationed in the hall professed ignorance. He had come on duty only a few minutes ago and had not seen any of the guests.

Starting with the Crimson Drawing Room, Juliette and Elizabeth peeked into several chambers before they ran their quarry to ground in one of the smaller salons, where he was sampling a Madeira recommended by Sir John. When taxed by Juliette, Lord Decimus denied all knowledge of a ghost. He was quite indignant.

“No, no, my dear! We Rowlands don’t have ghosts. Quite beneath our dignity!”

Dignity? The two young ladies exchanged looks. Just how much of the wine had Decimus sampled?

“Uncle Decimus, what does dignity have to say to anything? I asked you about a ghost.”

Lord Decimus poured himself a third glass of Madeira.

“Tolerable,” he muttered after a mouthful. “Quite tolerable. But then I never doubted Clive’s ability to pick a wine. Couldn’t have been better if we’d received a delivery from the ‘gentlemen.’ ”

Elizabeth stiffened at the mention of the “gentlemen,” but before she could ask a question, Juliette demanded, “Uncle Decimus, what would you say if I told you that there
is
a ghost at Stenton? That Elizabeth and I have met her!”

“Impossible. Here, have a glass of wine, Juliette. It’ll put the bloom back into your cheeks. You’ve been looking mighty peaked lately.” He leaned toward her chair and peered shortsightedly at her. “What’s the matter, puss? You in an interesting condition?”

“No.”

Blushing furiously, Juliette almost snatched the glass from him. She might have finished the wine in a gulp if Decimus had not protested.

“Here, I say! Stop! That’s no way to treat a Madeira.” Having poured another glass, he turned to Elizabeth. “And you, Miss … ah … beg your pardon. Never was any good with names.”

“Gore-Langton, sir. Pray call me Elizabeth.”

“Ah, yes. Poor Arthur’s daughter. Don’t know how I came to forget. Try the Madeira, Elizabeth.”

She took a small sip. “Sir, do you deny the existence of ghosts?”

“
Deny
—” He gasped indignantly. “Upon my soul! If I denied ghosts, I might as well deny the sun and the moon and the stars.”

“But you said—”

“I said, my dear young lady, there are
no ghosts at Stenton
.”

“But you’re wrong, Uncle Decimus! I told you, Elizabeth and I met a ghost. Her name is Annie—”

“If you met the same Annie I met, you’re out of your head to call her a ghost. Annie is the nursery maid, m’dear.”

“Well, our Annie is not a maid.” If Juliette had been standing, she might have stamped a foot. “And I don’t know why you’re so set against admitting there’s a ghost at Stenton.”

“And I don’t know why you shouldn’t understand.” He fixed his myopic gaze on Juliette. “Surely you remember my brother, your cousin Edward?”

“Of course I do. But, Uncle Decimus—”

“You never called
him
uncle,” Decimus said musingly. “Not that he was your uncle, but, then, neither am I.”

“You’re a courtesy uncle.” Juliette gave him an affectionate look. “Cousin Edward was my
guardian
. But about the ghost—”

“Well, d’you think he would have tolerated a ghost? No, no, m’dear. Edward had too much consequence, too much pride, to allow a ghost in any of the Rowland homes.”

“But Cousin Edward has been dead these past four years!”

Decimus dismissed the interjection with a wave of his hand. “Clive’s as proud as his father was. Wouldn’t tolerate a ghost either. Think on it, m’dear! A ghost would draw the vulgar as they’re drawn to Hampton Court to catch a glimpse of the wives of that rascal Henry. Now, which one was it? The fifth?”

“Henry the Eighth.” Elizabeth struggled to preserve a straight face. What odd notions Lord Decimus took into his head! “So you believe it is possible to deny a ghost entrance into one’s home?”

“Stands to reason, don’t it?”

Decimus paused to finish his wine while the luncheon gong sounded in the Great Hall. When the last resounding bong died away, he favored Juliette and Elizabeth with a benign smile.

“Now what do you think I’d do if my man were so unwise as to allow anyone into my chambers I didn’t care to see? Not that Whatmore would dare, but just
supposing
he did. I’d dismiss him. That’s what I’d do.”