The Lord Who Sneered and Other Tales (7 page)

He rang for the maid and learned that Anne was still with the Dowager, and the doctor had been sent for. It seemed he was to spend the day on his own but rather than give in to disappointment he determined to make more inquiries. He was now convinced that the sooner he might solve the mystery of the ghost the sooner Anne should fully turn her attention to Theo.

He decided to begin with the gardener as the ghost had last been seen on the grounds. Perhaps he had appeared there the time before, as well. Prior to leaving the house, he filled a plate with Anne’s favorite foodstuffs, including a generous portion of perfectly cooked bacon, and left instructions that it
should be taken up to her. Then he went in search of answers.

Baldwin, the gardener, was found raking leaves out of the flower beds that fronted the entrance to the chapel grounds. As Theo approached, the gardener raised his head and pushed back his hat to reveal an expression that suggested questions would not be welcomed. Theo, however, refused to be daunted and held out his hand for the gardener to shake.

“I am Mr. Williams, a guest staying at the house.”

The gardener shook Theo’s hand and gave a curt nod.

“I have been enjoying the excellent grounds,” Theo said with a look that took in the vast lawns, overflowing flower beds and immaculate rose garden. “I am persuaded there is not a better man with a spade this side of the Continent.” To Theo’s surprise, this fulsome compliment failed to soften the gardener’s expression one whit. “Ah, well, I suppose I should come to the point. Her Grace has given me carte blanche to ask questions with regard to the resident ghost.”

Baldwin raised his brows so far his hat rose into the air. “I don’t know that you would call it a resident. It hasn’t ever appeared in the house.”

“Then, you
have
seen it?”

Baldwin renewed his grip on his rake and returned to his work. “How could I?” he protested. “No such thing as ghosts.”

Theo was of the same opinion, yet, he and Anne had seen something; he was not about to give up until he could assure her that all would be well. “Pray tell, how does one see a ghost when such does not exist?”

The gardener shrugged. “Imagination? Hysteria? Who can say?”

Though Theo had yet to experience a single moment of hysteria in his life, he was willing to attribute his ghost sighting to imagination. He had believed the face of the man in the portrait to be the same as that he had seen in the graveyard, but it was certainly not evidence of a conclusive nature. Theo had seen many such portraits; one darkened visage graced with a needled nose was much like the
other.

“You have never heard tell of the ghost being seen anywhere than the graveyard?” The gardener shook his head and Theo pressed on. “What of the platter falling to the floor the moment we inquired about the ghost from the cook?”

“What of it?”

“Well, is that known to happen on a regular basis, perhaps when a door is opened or closed somewhere in the house?”

The gardener lifted his foot to tamp down a bit of disturbed dirt and looked up at Theo with a wry smile. “Seems as if you have all the answers with no aid from me.”

“That is fair. But what of the kitchen maid’s aunt? She died the very night she saw the ghost.”

“Did she, now?” The gardener’s tone was dubious.

“Well, didn’t she?”

“She died; that much is true.”

“It was of the consumption, I’ve been told.”

“Who knows what one imagines when in the grip of the consumption?” Baldwin mused.

Theo was hard-pressed to formulate a reply. Though he felt all of his questions had been answered, he knew Anne would need more. “Her Grace’s granddaughter, Mrs. Crenshaw; she has been overwrought since she saw what she believed to be a ghost. What should I say to her?”

Baldwin allowed his rake to fall to the ground and turned to fully face Theo. “She saw this supposed ghost at, what—close on midnight?”

“Yes, I do believe it was.”

“Well, then, I can’t make no promises as the moon won’t be as full tonight as it t’were then, but if you bring her close onto the same hour, I will do my best to explain your ghost.”

Theo wasn’t the least satisfied that such a thing could be done, but he once again shook the gardener’s hand and thanked him. As he turned to walk towards the house, there came the rattle of
wheels on the road and Baldwin sprinted to the front gate to allow a carriage to enter. Suspecting it was the doctor, Theo proceeded to make himself least in sight in the library until he could draw the physician aside upon his departure. As such, Theo spent an anxious quarter hour as he waited for his chance to learn what conclusions were being drawn above stairs.

If the Dowager was, indeed, dying, Theo was persuaded Anne should prove inconsolable. Yet, if the Dowager suffered from a harmless complaint, Anne wasn’t likely to suffer any less foreboding; it should only prove to change focus. When he spotted her descending the stairs with the doctor, her expression peaceful and her eyes alight as she caught sight of him waiting for her, he felt a weight lift from his shoulders.

“Theo, you will be relieved to know that Grandmama suffers from a simple cold. She will doubtless be up and about on the morrow. Is that not wonderful?”

“Yes, it is,” he replied with a smile that might have seemed a bit broad for such innocuous news. To Theo, however, there was nothing of the banal with regard to having Anne to himself for the rest of the day and evening. With the Dowager abed, it should prove far easier to take Anne for a midnight walk for their final ghost hunt, as well. Together they bid the doctor adieu, whereupon Theo ushered Anne into the library and shut the door behind him.

“You are looking more yourself. How is Grandmama?”

“She is fine, Theo, truly she is. I feel a bit foolish for having been in such a taking over her.”

“I am very glad to hear it, for there is something I should like to say to you.”

“And I should love to hear it, but I most go to Grandmama. She is miserable and has asked that I read to her so as to pass the time.”

She must have seen his dismay at her words for she rushed to reassure him. “We shall see one another at dinner, Theo. Can that not be soon enough?

“I suppose it must do. However, you must promise to give me your full attention when once I have you to myself again.”

She smiled and laid her hand upon his arm. “Of course you shall have it.”

“And if I require that you go for a midnight stroll with me, you shall do as I ask?”

Her smile brightened. “I am looking forward to it.”

As she quit the room, Theo swore that it should be the last time she walked away from him unspoken for. The hours until the evening meal seemed without end, and when, at dinnertime, instead of Anne, he received a note explaining her continued absence, he thought his lot could not have been more difficult to bear. She finally met him in the drawing room, quite late, after the Dowager had finally fallen into a deep sleep.

“Oh, Theo, please do not glare at me so!” Anne pled as she went to him and put her hands in his. “Grandmama was in such a mood; I didn’t wish to be ungrateful. It has been so good of her to allow me to stay here. And then there’s you,” she added, her voice growing softer. “She has allowed you to stay, as well, and I owe her much for that.”

“As do I,” he said with a gentle squeeze of her hands. “Now that this ghost business is done with, I fear she will finally have reason to turn me out.”

“Whatever do you mean? If not for Grandmama, then for whom has the ghost come to warn us?”

“As to that,” Theo said as he led her to the sofa and settled her next to him for a long cose, “there is much to tell you.” With growing impatience, he related all he had learned about the ghost and his conclusions, wishing, all the while that they could be done with the whole subject and, at long last, make inroads as to the subject of their lives together.

“After we have learned what it is the gardener wishes to tell us, I have a question to ask of you. It must wait until then, but it shall not wait a moment past.”

Anne blushed and looked down at her hands. He felt then that he had her answer, but he dared not presume too much. Time had passed far more quickly in her presence than the hours prior, and once the hall clock struck the hour of half past eleven, he sent her off to collect her cloak and meet him
in the front hall. They walked down the drive, her arm through his and pressed tight to his side just as the night of the ball. It seemed difficult to believe that a mere two days had passed since then, one of them having been the happiest of his life.

They found Baldwin waiting for them in the graveyard by the tomb of the Crenshaws. When Anne spotted him, she looked a question at Theo, but he merely put a finger to his lips and gave the gardener leave to speak.

“Many people have claimed to see a ghost in this graveyard over the decades. Their accounts are so similar it easily could sway one to believe in its happenin’. In every event, save, perhaps, that of the dyin’, hysterical maidservant, the ghost has been spotted at the entrance of this tomb. They are all adamant the ghost never speaks. Together, these two claims are what prove that the ghost is a figment of the imagination.”

“Are you accusing me of hysteria, then?” Anne inquired.

“Not exactly. You are seeing somethin’, but it is your imagination only that makes it appear to be a man, one that doesn’t speak and appears to be incorporeal, is that not so?”

“Well, yes,” Anne conceded.

The gardener bent and retrieved a darkened lantern from the ground at his feet. “The moon is not as bright as it was the night of the ball, but if I hold up this lantern, it will reveal a pattern that looks very much like a ghost.” Uncovering the lantern, he stood upon the bench where Theo and Anne had sat and held the light aloft so that the shadows of the branches of the closest tree were caught against the wall of the tomb.

At first Theo was not sure he saw anything unusual, but the longer he stared at it, the more convinced he became that he spotted a face, one with dark, ragged eyes and a round, black mouth. “Look, Anne, do you see it? If you follow the shadow down, you can just make out buttons and even the buckles such as on a pair of old-fashioned shoes.”

“I am not so sure I see anything such as you describe, but if you see it Theo, I am persuaded it is
there, just as you say.”

Baldwin allowed the lantern to fall and jumped to the ground, sending the shadows swinging crazily against the tomb. “As you see, light and shadow play tricks on the mind. I pray that puts an end to your fears of the ghost at Dunsmere.”

“Thank you Baldwin. It was good of you to stage this demonstration so deep into the night. As for you, my dear,” he said, taking Anne by the hand and leading her away, “you need not fear that anyone of the house of Marcross shall die before their God-appointed time.”

“How could we have ever thought a shadow to be a ghost?” she asked with a sigh; she rested her head against his shoulder as they walked, slowly and meanderingly, back to the house. When they reached the steps up to the front portal, he let go her hand and put his arm about her shoulders. “Let us not go in just yet,” he murmured as he steered her into the shadows of an ancient oak tree that stood, like its twin, to one side of the grand entrance.

An atmosphere of reticence seemed to fall upon her, but she agreed. As they stepped into the deeper shadows under the tree, there was a shift in the air that had naught to do with the weather. When he dropped his arm from her shoulder to her waist, he felt as if they stood in a country all their own, one devoid of any other inhabitant, human or otherwise.

He knew this was his moment to speak; there had been far too many others he had squandered yet there was one more test of her feelings he felt he must employ before he dared declare himself. Placing an arm to join the other around her waist, he drew her into an embrace.

She did not object as he feared she might and willingly laid her head to rest against his chest. When he felt confident that she had no desire to break away, he put a hand to her chin and tilted her face to rest, skin against skin, along his own. It required that he bend his head, but the feel of her satin-smooth cheek against his was redolent of a heaven of which he had never dared dream.

When he turned his head so that the corner of his mouth brushed against the corner of hers, the unaccustomed contact sent a jolt throughout his body, as breathtaking as it was unexpected. He had
delayed marriage until he had found a woman who was as good as she was beautiful; now that he had found her, he was unprepared for the overwhelming hunger he felt for her.

“How long,” he murmured, “can I go on like this?”

“Go on…like what?” she asked, her voice alluringly breathless.

“Like this,” he moaned, his lungs laboring for breath as, lightly, he drew his lips across her cheek, “wishing to kiss you.”

He heard the breath catch in her throat and impatiently endured the tiny pause that prefaced her response. “Have you been? Truly?”

“Yes,” he said as he placed a hand behind her head to pull it back while, with the arm that encircled her tiny waist, he drew her to her toes so as to have better access to her lips from his great height. “I have, from the moment I first saw you.”

“Oh,” she said faintly as he drew her ever closer and searched her eyes for signs that she might oppose his intentions. Finding none, he bent his head and kissed her with a barely restrained passion made up of all his finer feelings of admiration, regard and even worship. When she put her arms around his neck and pulled herself deeper into his kiss, he knew what her answer to his proposal would be.

After a dizzying interlude that left Theo in no doubt as to his future happiness, he emerged from his abstraction long enough to recall that he had not yet asked the crucial question. “Mrs. Crenshaw—my own, dear Anne—will you marry me?”

“Yes, Theo, for I am persuaded I shall love being married to you above all things. But only if you profess always to allow me to be first served from the bacon platter,” she said as she stretched upwards for another kiss.