The Lord Who Sneered and Other Tales (4 page)

They had obtained the wrought iron fence that surrounded the graveyard, and just as Theo put his hand to the latch at the gate, a great gust of wind blew a cyclone of leaves into the air.

“Oh!” Mrs. Crenshaw said as she threw up a hand to cover her mouth only to gasp again when he pushed open the gate, and a cat, startled by the squeak of the hinges, streaked past them.

“You are not frightened, are you, Mrs. Crenshaw? We may turn about and return to the house if you wish.”

“No…no, it’s only that I am persuaded Lady Avery might have indeed seen something,” Mrs. Crenshaw said as she glanced around the large area of leaning tombstones, their inscriptions winking in and out of sight as the breeze cast the shadows of numerous willow branches to and fro. She indicated a particularly dark and forbidding tomb. “It seems the perfect place for a ghost to appear.”

He nodded his agreement. “It certainly feels far friendlier when the sun is shining. See, there is a bench across from the tomb. We might await this supposed ghost’s appearance in some comfort.”

She seemed hesitant, but when he took her gloved hand she came willingly. He seated her on the bench and proceeded to investigate the carving above the tomb’s door. Removing his own glove, he ran his fingers over the deeply grooved letters until he was satisfied. “Yes, it seems that this is, indeed, the Crenshaw family tomb.”

“But, of course it is,” she said in tones so subdued he began to fear he had made a mistake in bringing her to such a place.

And then he knew. “Your husband is laid to rest here, is he not?”

She nodded. “As is his grandfather and one day his father. And Grandmama.”

Cursing himself for a fool, he sought to make reparations. “Does it not give you pain to be here? We shall depart at once!”

“No, I wish to remain here. I…it is difficult to explain, but it is important that I not give in to sadness. Not tonight.”

Theo allowed himself a moment of gratification at her words before pushing it aside. It would
not do to fancy her words were spoken with him in mind. Yet, if it were possible, for her to care for his sole company as much as he longed for hers was his dearest wish. Indeed, to look upon her, frozen with some nameless emotion and pale as marble in her gray cloak, was to gaze upon a beautiful statue, one with which he could fill his vision for the rest of his life. Carefully weighing his words before he spoke, he took up a seat next to her on the bench. “It is not wrong to yet mourn your husband.”

She sat with her head turned away from him for so long, he thought perhaps she did not intend to reply.

“Mrs. Crenshaw?” he prodded. And then, more gently, “Anne.”

Quicker than a heartbeat, she turned to look up at him and smiled. “Thank you. I do so prefer being addressed as such. I am a very simple person, a circumstance that led to a great deal of suffering during the course of my marriage. I would have you know,” she hastened to inform him, “it had naught to do with my husband. He was a good man who died too soon without even the satisfaction of an heir to soften his passing,” she added with a sad smile. “No, it was my father-in-law who made my life so comfortless. Though I miss my husband, I am only too glad to leave that life behind. A thought that often leaves me conscience-stricken is that God took him so that I might be released from the Duke’s tyranny.”

“You must never say so.” He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “God takes whom He pleases, when He pleases, with little regard for our wishes. If it were not so, would there not be many deaths simply because it was convenient to someone or other?”

He was relieved to hear her soft chuckle. “Yes, I suppose that could be true.”

“Yet, you are still troubled about something.” He gave her hand another squeeze, though it felt incredibly rash to be possessed of it still.

“I expect it has something to do with feeling…unworthy. I can’t quite credit the notion that I might deserve to be happy,” she said with another smile meant for none but him.

Theo felt this to be a most pronounced indication of her possible feelings, however, just as he
decided it to be an opportune moment to learn more, she gasped and jumped to her feet.

“What was that? It looked like a man standing— just there.” She pointed to the entrance of the tomb, but Theo could see naught but shadows.

“Let us both be very still as we look in that direction,” he suggested as he quelled his disappointment. They sat in breathless silence for longer than was comfortable. Then, just when he concluded that her ghost sighting was simply a means of preventing his speaking out of turn, he saw a man materialize right in front of his eyes. Anne stiffened beside him as Theo noted every detail of the man’s appearance. He wore a rolled wig, a frock coat that came almost to his knees and a waistcoat nearly as long. His shoes were high and buckled; his stockings clocked, and his held a tricorn hat under his arm. “Who do you suppose he is?” he asked in hushed tones.

“I haven’t the slightest idea nor do I wish to know,” she replied in a low voice. “I am suddenly quite cold. Would you be so kind as to escort me back to the house?”

“But of course!” He helped her to her feet and turned for one last look at the ghost—but it had gone.

Chapter Three

Anne had never been so frightened in all her life. Not for one moment had she believed a genuine ghost should be found in the graveyard at Dunsmere, or any other, for that matter. She had never before considered whether or not she believed in specters, but she was now persuaded she did not, at least, had not before tonight. “Mr. Williams, I believe it would be best not to inform Lady Avery of what we have seen. That is to say, what we
think
we have seen. She is of a very excitable nature, and I fear if we were to describe our experience, it would only create an intolerable commotion.”

“I could not agree more, Mrs., that is; Anne, and you shall call me Theo.”

He must have felt how she shivered for he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close to his side as they walked the path back to the ball. The house blocked much of the wind, and the air warmed as they drew closer. The glow from the windows as well as the flambeaux that lined the broad
drive restored her to her to a sense of comfort far too routine to entertain thoughts of ghosts on the premises; it now seemed quite impossible.

As it was early enough that none had thought of departing the ball, the entrance to the manse was deserted, and they were quite alone. Suddenly she recalled what had been her expectations when she first agreed to hold vigil in the graveyard and was taken aback at how keen was her disappointment. She must find a way to prolong their privacy so as to give Mr. Williams a chance to speak before Grandmama sent him home.

“Theo,” she said as naturally as if she said it every day of her life, “I do believe I have seen that face before. He looked very much like a man in the portrait gallery. Could it be that I made up the ghost out of whole cloth?”

“I saw him, as well, do not forget. What if we were to take a look at the portrait? If he resembles the man we each saw we shall know it could not have been pure imagination on either of our parts.”

“Yes, of course, what a splendid idea!” Anne enthused as if he hadn’t plucked the very thought from her own mind. “First thing in the morning after breakfast we shall go and see what can be learned.”

They had neared the massive portals of Dunsmere but, Theo, his arm still about her, seemed to hesitate. He stopped and turned her round so that she faced him as he placed one large, warm hand on each of her shoulders. “Anne, do you suppose the Dowager will allow me to stay on another day? I rather suspect she has only been tolerating me until the ball has concluded.”

Anne felt a pain prick her heart at the thought of his departure. “I have feared the same, but I truly cannot say what she shall decide. She is full of whims and fancies.” Though Anne knew it to be selfish, she enjoyed the way his face fell at her words.

“Do you suppose we might have a look at the portrait tonight? Surely we might slip away again.”

Anne nodded in agreement though she rather doubted Grandmama would countenance a second desertion from the ball. There was Her Grace’s son, the Duke, with whom to be reckoned, as well. If only Mr. Williams would speak. Should he declare himself and Anne accept him, Grandmama could hardly send him away, not just yet. However, it was not to be. He took her hand and led her to the house and through the doors to rejoin the ball, the remainder of which was a bit of a daze. She did have one waltz with Theo, but it seemed highly unsatisfactory after their time alone earlier in the evening. She supposed it was just a nonsensical notion but it seemed her father-in-law never took his eyes from her, and she agonized over which impropriety she was committing that he should frown at her so.

Once her waltz with Theo was over, she did not lack for partners, one of whom was the daunting Marquis of Trevelin. The only circumstance that overshadowed the unpleasantness of his scarred mouth was his unsavory reputation. As a debutante nearly a decade past, Anne was thoroughly warned away from him. She thought it all of a piece to be waltzing in his arms in the same hour she had seen her first phantom and suspected his request for a set was at the behest of the Duke who
would
insist on meddling in her affairs even when not under his roof. Theo was quite in demand, as well, but she knew to credit his dancing every set to his impeccable manners and quiet charm. In the end, there wasn’t the opportunity to slip away with him to inspect the painting in the portrait gallery.

Quite late in the evening, as she made her way through the throngs of people in order to find a moment to recover from the overwhelming heat, she found herself quitting the room in train with the Duke and his nephew, Sir Anthony. Just ahead of them was the Duchess and Lady Crenshaw who looked at daggers drawn. She eschewed the odious habit of eavesdropping, but she was more than a little curious as to what the disagreement could be about. Surely, she should not be held accountable for any words that reached her ears of their own accord.

“I do believe we should affiance my son to your daughter,” the Duke pronounced with a smile so smug and wide even Anne could see it from her position just behind his shoulder.

“I haven’t a daughter,” Sir Anthony replied with a cat-in-the-cream pot smile of his own.

“That is as it may be. Nevertheless, you one day shall,” His Grace returned as if privy to future events unknown by any but God.

“I thank you for the honor, but I am persuaded the idea appeals to the Duchess not at all.”

“No, I suppose it does not.”

“Am I right, then, in thinking you enjoy causing her discomfort?” Sir Anthony asked in obvious surprise. As for Anne, she was not in the least astonished.

“What I enjoy,” the Duke purred, “is witnessing my wife’s delight at the discomfort of yours.”

With those words, the Duchess spun around and, in a voice loud enough for Anne to hear, announced her view on the matter. “Just think, we are to be in-laws to one another’s children!”

Anne thought Lady Crenshaw not in the least grateful for the honor as her face turned sheet-white. She, however, said nothing, a lack of response that seemed to drive the Duchess wild. With a smile that showed every one of her teeth, she took her husband by the arm and led him quickly away.

The exchange deepened Anne’s desire to be free of the Duke and his sway over her. A week ago she would never have countenanced so much as the contemplation of marriage, but that was before she had met Theodore Williams, a man so gentle and kind that she have need have no fear he would treat her with anything but honor. Moreover, unlike her husband, Theo would surely stand up for her, protect her and indulge her wishes. The fact that his smile spread to his eyes so that they twinkled like stars and her heart beat a bit faster at the sight of him was a sure sign that they should suit. However, barring a glance or two of him on the dance floor, she did not see him again for the remainder of the ball.

It was not the least unreasonable to assume he very well might be gone shortly after breakfast in the morning. As such, she climbed the stairs to her bedchamber with a heavy heart. She walked as slowly as possible to her door down the passageway in hopes he would magically appear at one end or the other as did the ghost in the graveyard. He did not. With great reluctance, she opened the door to her room and crossed the threshold feeling precisely as if she were sealing her fate, one that did not
include Theo Williams. It took all of her courage to close the door behind her, whereupon, she sat at the dressing table and burst into tears.

Finally, exhausted and spent, she began to remove the jewels from her hair and was startled by a knock at her door. It proved to be the maid who had readied her for the ball and had come to help Anne out of her beautiful ball gown on which she had pinned so many hopes. She then helped Anne to don a night rail, blew out the bedside candle and silently departed. Too worn out even to cry herself to sleep, Anne closed her eyes and prayed for she knew not what.

She thought perhaps she had dozed a bit before a gentle knock roused her. She could scarcely imagine what the maid might have forgotten and hurried to open the door without lighting a candle or donning a wrap. “What is it?” she asked as she pulled the door wide.

There stood Mr. Williams
sans
shoes or jacket, a candle in his hand and a finger to his lips.

“Mr. Williams!” she hissed in disapproval whilst her heart leapt with unbridled joy. In the glow of the candle, his shadow climbed even taller than he and his eyes looked black yet the most tender she had ever seen them.

“Her Grace has given me my conge.”

Anne felt the tears start in her eyes but refused to give them free reign. “I am so very sorry, Theo. It is good of you to tell me. I shall arise extra early for breakfast. I do so enjoy our breakfasts together,” she said, her voice faltering.

“I should be most distressed if you rose early on my account; dawn is but a few hours away.”

“Oh,” she said, the sudden pain in her chest threatening to rob her of breath. “Then, I shall not see you again?”