Nina Coombs Pykare (17 page)

She put the rat down inside the room and carefully turned the key in the lock. She’d pass over the whole incident in silence. There was nothing else to do. She would wrap the rat up and early in the morning dispose of it.

That way the earl need never know about it. Or anyone else, she thought, washing her hands and climbing wearily back into the bed. She simply wouldn’t tell anyone what had happened. That way there would be no additional pressure on her to leave the castle. They’d have to throw her out bodily to make her leave now. She wasn’t a coward and she would not run off just because someone wanted her to.

The castle had already become home to her. A home with a vindictive ghost, of course, a ghost that seemed bent on frightening her away, but home nevertheless.

Huddled there under the covers, she shivered. A dead rat was not a pretty sight, nor was it pleasant to find a shroud in miniature lying outside one’s door, but if someone thought such theatrics would frighten her away, that
someone
was quite mistaken.

Edwina Pierce wasn’t a person to run from difficulty—of whatever kind. She didn’t back down on decisions. And she
had
decided. She wouldn’t be driven from this castle. Not by anyone. Or anything.

* * * *

The sun woke Edwina early. For a moment she wondered at the strange disquieting feeling festering in the pit of her stomach. Then she remembered and cursed softly, words she would never say in the hearing of the girls. Well, she couldn’t lie abed. She had to find something in which to wrap that awful dead rat. But what should she use? And where was she to carry the rat to?

She considered the possibilities available to her. She couldn’t chance leaving the thing in her room—even if the very thought of that hadn’t sickened her. She had to get the rat outside, but what if someone spied her carrying the horrible thing?

She sat upright in the bed, clutching the covers to her chest. The parapet! That was it. She would wrap the rat in something—it would have to be some article of her clothing. Then she could take it up to the parapet and throw it off. If she dropped it from the outside wall, no one would even notice it. Or at least she could hope that.

With a shiver she forced herself from the bed and hurried through her morning ablutions and into one of her old gowns. Her new green one would have to be laundered before she could wear it again. Then, rifling hastily through her things, she found an old scarf. Though she could ill part with any item of her meager wardrobe, the scarf would have to serve. At least, she hadn’t worn it at the castle, so if it were found, no one would recognize it as hers.

Averting her eyes, she approached the dead rat. Of course, it was impossible to pick it up without looking to see where it was lying. And, even though she thought herself well prepared, the sight of the mangled body only partially covered by the shroud made her stomach quiver with sickness. Hastily she covered the thing up. Then, holding the whole as lightly as possible, she unlocked the door and stepped out into the hall. Maybe she could accomplish her errand before the rest of the castle woke. She certainly didn’t want to be discovered going upon such an awkward task.

In the early morning stillness the castle was eerie, almost as though no life existed within its grim dark walls. Even though it would soon be full day outside, shadows still lingered in the halls and she shivered as she hurried along.

Finally reaching the door to the tower, she looked sharply in both directions, turned the knob, and stepped inside. The tower stairway was even gloomier than the hall and she gasped for breath as though the coldness itself was pressing the life from her. Gathering her skirts in one hand, and holding the rat as far from her as she could with the other, she went up as fast as she could. She wanted constantly to look back over her shoulder, imagining some shimmering phantom of Lady Catherine creeping behind her, waiting to wreck vengeance on this usurper who was taking her place with her daughters. Her imagination was running away with her, Edwina told herself bitterly.
She,
who had always prided herself on being such a sane and sensible person, couldn’t let herself be carried away by such ridiculous ideas.

She reached the top of the stairs and pushed open the door, rushing out into the daylight with a great sigh of relief. The sun was almost blinding to eyes used to dim corridors and she had to blink and wait a little to let them adjust. She was so glad to be out of that dark tower with its spiders and its bone--chilling cold that she almost laughed aloud.

Finally her eyes got used to the brightness, and she hurried to the far side of the parapet. As she leaned over to drop the hateful burden, a cold feeling of horror swept over her. Was it from this very spot that Lady Catherine had leapt to her death? Pulling in a deep breath, Edwina threw the scarf holding the rat as far as she could. Then she stepped back from the edge, her skin clammy with fear. She was uncomfortable near the edge, well, it was more than uncomfortable, this feeling that some malignant force outside her was trying to draw her on, pull her over the edge to her death.

When she stood further back, when she knew she was safe, she could look out over the countryside. And there was so much to see. No wonder Lady Catherine had loved to walk here. The meadows and the woods fading off into the distance, all bathed in the light of the early morning sun, made a lovely, living landscape.

Edwina walked to the sea side of the castle. From this distance the ocean looked very calm. She searched the coastline. Where had they had yesterday’s outing? In spite of Constance’s accident, that had been a beautiful day, a day to be remembered. But though she looked long and hard, she couldn’t pick the spot out.

How very different the earl had behaved away from the gloomy influence of the castle. He’d seemed like a young man -he couldn’t be more than six and thirty. Once the ladies of the ton must have enjoyed that mischievous gallant streak in him. If only she knew some way to discover if Lady Leonore was behind this frightening business and not some real ghost, so that the matter could be put to rest and the earl and his daughters could lead a normal, happy life. Edwina had no proof it was Lady Leonore, of course. But she was the one who kept insisting there was a ghost, the one who seemed most likely to profit from belief in a ghost.

In the bright sunlight Edwina couldn’t believe in things supernatural. Certainly Constance’s dunking in the sea was a purely ordinary accident. There was no need to invest an accident with supernatural elements like Henrietta insisted on doing. But the falling stone had been no accident, nor the grisly body of the mangled rat. Edwina had to recognize that. They were obviously meant to scare her away.

She sighed. A stone might have fallen accidentally, though that was stretching credulity, but for a mangled rat to die outside her door accompanied by a miniature shroud, could under no circumstances be considered a ‘natural’ event. Still she told herself firmly, there was no need to attribute any of these things to the action of ghosts. The castle was, after all, inhabited by human beings. And human beings, as she well knew, were capable of some very nasty tricks. Though why anyone should want to frighten her . . . Unless—

She stopped, her knees turning to water. She stood there, almost overwhelmed by the thought shivering through her mind. Could Lady Catherine’s death have not been suicide, but—Edwina swallowed hard, not wanting to think it, but unable to stop. Could it have been murder? And the murderer feared being found out?

When her legs were stable again, she paced up and down the parapet, shivering in spite of the warm sunshine, and reviewed the events of the past few days. Lady Leonore wanted her to leave the castle. If the only report of the curse had come from Lady Leonore, there would have been no question in Edwina’s mind that the lady had generated it. But the girls—and even the earl and the cook who’d left—claimed to have heard Catherine’s ghost calling them. How could Lady Leonore have arranged that? And, in a very practical vein, Edwina simply couldn’t envision such a lady dirtying her hands with a stone, let alone coming anywhere near a dead rat.

Edwina sighed. There seemed no way out of the tangle she had gotten into by coming to live at the castle. Still, what else could she have done? She needed the work. Now it was too late to leave. She loved the girls. Besides, there was one thing she was certain of—now and always. Edwina Pierce wasn’t a coward. She didn’t run away from her responsibilities!

She straightened her shoulders. It was time to return to her room and waken the girls. If she were bothered again by this so-called ‘ghost,’ she’d deal with whatever it was as it happened.

She turned back toward the stairway and stifled a cry of alarm. Leaning nonchalantly against the tower in his spotless buff pantaloons and well-pressed coat of bottle green, his top boots gleaming in the sunlight, stood the viscount. He was smiling at her in that brash way of his. “You are up and about early, Miss Pierce,” he said, adjusting his cuffs.

She managed a nod. “Yes, milord. I’m used to early hours.”

The viscount shook his head dolefully. “In the city I would never dream of rising before noon.” He made an amusing face. “It would be so dreadfully unfashionable, you know. But here in Dover -” He shrugged. “It’s difficult to sleep late when one retires so early. And I’m afraid the castle offers few amusements to a high-spirited young man.”

His heavy-lidded eyes appraised Edwina frankly and to her annoyance she felt herself flushing. She was well aware that to him she was one of those amusements, and she was further annoyed because even knowing it, she was still pleased by his attention.

“I can imagine that life in the country is rather dull for you,” she conceded dryly. “After all, there are no gaming tables, no balls at Almack’s, no excursions to Covent Garden or Drury Lane to quiz the ladies. None of the enjoyments of the dandy.”

The viscount smiled ruefully. “You give a perfect picture of my former life, Miss Pierce. It was a relatively harmless one, that life of pleasure, I assure you. I enjoyed myself, it’s true. But I dare say no one suffered by my flings. Except perhaps myself.”

In that case, she wanted to reply, she hoped that he had only toyed with fashionable ladies whose feelings were as ephemeral as his own, and not with young and innocent girls who might be hurt, but she held her tongue. Let the viscount have his little amusements, let him play at being charming. Sometimes she herself needed something to divert her from the depressing aspects of life at the castle. As long as she kept her wits about her, the viscount served admirably in that capacity.

“I must return to the school room,” she said, wishing that she might stay and enjoy his company. But she recognized the wish for the foolishness it was. The last time she’d been in this place with him the viscount had stolen a kiss from her, a kiss she had enjoyed. She should not give him any more opportunities.

A certain sparkle in his eyes seemed to indicate that he, too, recalled the kiss with some pleasure. “It’s really quite early yet,” he said. “Your charges will still be asleep.” He took a step toward her, his eyes growing darker.

She held her ground. “Indeed, milord, they, too, are accustomed to retiring early. And that means they will also arise early. I must be there when they waken—to help them.”

The viscount moved still nearer, his expression pleading. “Please, I had hoped you would stroll about with me for a bit. Just for a few minutes. A man gets damnably lonely in this wretched place.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose he does. Well, perhaps I could take just a turn or two with you. But no more,” she warned as he grinned cheerfully. “I have my duties to attend to. I can’t be up here walking with you.”

“Of course. Of course. I shall not keep you long at all.” Still grinning, he tucked her arm through his and set off, matching his longer step to her shorter one. “I’m exceedingly grateful. You have saved my life.”

She didn’t reply to this effusion. What could she say?

As they strolled along, the viscount’s cheerful face sobered. “I say, Miss Pierce, much as I enjoy your company and all, I must say that I can’t see why you stay on here at the castle. I really can’t.”

“I told you my circumstances,” she replied. “I need work. I really have no choice.”

The viscount shook his handsome head. “Though that was perhaps true when you came here, it’s now a Banbury tale if ever I heard one. Charles told me he offered you fare to London.” He frowned. “I must say I don’t see why you didn’t take the money. Just go, leave here. This is no place for a young woman. Why, it even brings my spirits down sometimes.”

She couldn’t help smiling at this and she hoped that the smile would be sufficient reply.

But the viscount continued to press her. “Come, tell me why you choose to stay in this accursed place when you could be off to London to earn your fortune? It’s hardly sensible.”

“Governesses do not earn fortunes,” she replied, “whether in London or elsewhere. I’m not leaving the castle because I’m very fond of the girls. I know that it would be most difficult for the earl to replace me. It’s a simple matter, really. The earl needs me and I need the position here. That’s all there is to it.”

The viscount shook his head. “Perhaps so. Still, none of that seems sufficient reason for you to stay on here—in this dangerous place.”

“You stay on,” she retorted, anxious to move the conversation away from herself.

The viscount sighed melodramatically. “Ah, yes, but you can see I’m strapped. My pocket is flatter than flat. After all, there’s no point in being on the town if one hasn’t the necessary blunt to play the part.” He grinned. “It’s necessity that forces me to vegetate in the country, I’m afraid. Not choice.”

She smiled. “That’s too bad. It’s plain to see that city life is your forte.”

His grin turned brash. “I must admit to having a way with the ladies. I do enjoy them so. Your company has considerably enlivened the last few weeks, for example. But still -” His grin turned to a frown. “I think you ought to seriously consider the earl’s offer. This is no place for you. No place for any young woman, you know.”