Nina Coombs Pykare (18 page)

“I appreciate your concern for me,” she replied. And somewhat to her surprise, she did. “But I assure you, I have given the matter considerable thought. I am quite positive of my decision. I intend to stay at Holmden Hill. No matter what.”

Their second circuit completed, they had arrived at the tower door again. She disengaged her arm from his. “And now, milord, I really must return to my charges. They’ll be looking for me.”

The viscount shrugged. “If you must you must, but you are leaving me a desolate man.”

The expression on his face was so exaggeratedly woebegone that she couldn’t contain her laughter.

The viscount grinned. “At last—I have made you laugh. Laughter is a sovereign remedy for everything, so I’ve heard. Was I a surgeon I would prescribe three good laughs a day. And, no doubt, I would be a great success.” He grinned. “With the ladies knocking down the door to get to me.”

She laughed again. “Perhaps you should go into practice,” she agreed. “You’re certainly an amusing man.”

He bowed from the waist. “You’re most kind.”

She took a step toward the tower door. “Thank you, milord. I shall see you at dinner.”

He smiled. “I expect so. Perhaps sooner, if you intend to take the children out to play.” His gaze held hers, waiting for an answer.

“I expect we’ll be outside sometime today,” she replied. “I’m a firm believer in fresh air and sunshine.”

The viscount nodded. “That’s plain to see. But if you’ll permit me, Miss Pierce, I should like to make a suggestion.”

His tone had sobered so fast that she stiffened. “Yes?”

“Considering the history of this part of the castle, might it not be better to get your fresh air in some other fashion? I mean, considering that two women have fallen to their deaths from these walls, I—if I were a woman—would certainly be uneasy walking here unaccompanied.”

She managed a small smile, though she felt a chill creeping over her again. “Perhaps you’re right, milord. You know, I’ve thought and thought about it, and something about Lady Catherine’s death doesn’t ring true.”

He stared at her in surprise, his eyes gone opaque. “I don’t know what you mean. She jumped. She was off her head. She heard the voices—she told me about them--the voices that told her to jump. She was sick and she jumped. That’s all. Nothing so strange about it, people do weird things every day.”

Edwina managed a tight smile. She might have known he’d prefer to believe in the ghost. But she didn’t have time to argue with him. “I expect you’re right, milord. Sometimes my imagination gets carried away and sends me strange thoughts. I believe that in the future I will get my fresh air and sunshine somewhat closer to the ground. That sounds eminently sensible.”

“An admirable decision, very wisely made,” the viscount replied, opening the tower door and motioning for her to precede him down.

She gathered her skirts about her to make the descent, and as she did so she couldn’t help admitting to herself that the presence of Viscount Crawford at the castle was a comfort to her.

Chapter Eighteen

The morning passed quickly. Edwina gave the girls lessons in reading and arithmetic, pleased to see how easily they learned. They had very good understanding—both of them.

Constance seemed to have gotten over the fears that had assailed her after the incident at the seashore and was her usual bright self, but Henrietta’s eyes still reflected that curious blankness. It was as though she had erected some invisible barrier between them and meant to keep her governess at bay no matter what. Edwina considered confronting the issue directly, but how was she to go about it? Henrietta wasn’t rude, not even impolite.

It was only that no matter what Edwina did or said, the child maintained that cold distance, kept herself almost isolated. There seemed little point in asking, ‘Why are you so distant from me?’ when almost certainly Henrietta’s reaction would be to deny that she was any such thing.

As the hour for lunch approached, Edwina said, “I have a few matters to discuss with Mrs. Simpson. The day is lovely and lessons have gone so well that I thought we might take our lunch outside today. Perhaps out in the meadow.”

Constance smiled at this happy news, but Henrietta’s expression remained set in that terrible blankness. Would nothing ever move her?

Edwina managed a smile. “I’ll just go talk to her about it while you finish up your lessons.”

Both girls bent obediently to their books. It would be good for them to get outside. The castle seemed particularly oppressive today, though she couldn’t exactly say why. True, there was the mangled rat. But she didn’t think it had had that much effect on her. Finding it outside her door had been unpleasant, but there was more to this feeling than that. It was like some terrible weight pressed upon her soul, crushing her usual cheerful outlook on life.

But when she climbed the stairs again sometime later, she was in a more cheerful mood. Simpson, obviously impressed with the changes in the earl, now greeted Edwina with a happy toothy smile, fully approving her suggestion of a picnic, and setting Cook to work to prepare the necessary luncheon.

Edwina pushed open the schoolroom door. “Well, girls, everything—”

She stopped in surprise. Constance sat at the schoolroom table alone. Her head was bent and she wrote diligently.

“Where is Henrietta?” Edwina asked, striving to keep the annoyance out of her voice.

Constance looked up, her eyes tear-filled. “She said she wasn’t going outside with us. She said going out would make Mama angry again. She said we wouldn’t go without her. She said—” Constance gulped back a sob. “She said she was going to hide where you couldn’t find her.”

Edwina sighed in exasperation. The castle was huge, and more than half its rooms were closed off, the furniture swathed in holland covers. But that wouldn’t stop Henrietta. There was no telling where the child had decided to hide. She’d been right in her surmise, too, Edwina thought bitterly. She dared not leave the castle until the child was found.

Edwina turned to the tearful little girl at the table. “Did Henrietta give you any idea at all where she meant to hide?”

Constance shook her head. “No. She said it was a place where Mama could find her. That’s all.”

Edwina sighed again. Lady Catherine could have had many places where she played with the children. But where were they?

“Listen, Constance.” She looked at her sternly. “I want you to stay here. Right here. Do you understand me, Constance? Don’t leave this room.”

Constance nodded tearfully. “I’m sorry, Miss Pierce. I tried to stop her. I told her not to go, but she wouldn’t listen to me. She never does.”

“I know, dear. It’s all right. Don’t worry. I’ll find her.”

Edwina was not nearly as confident as she sounded, but she hurried from the room. It would take hours to search the whole castle and even so she might easily overlook Henrietta’s hiding place. Some place where her mother could find her . . .

Edwina stopped in mid-stride, her heart in her throat. The tower! Dear God, had Henrietta gone up on the parapet?

Heart pounding, Edwina hurried toward the tower stairs. Why hadn’t she thought to ask the earl to lock that door? If anything happened to Hen-

Once inside the stairs, Edwina moved slowly and carefully. If Henrietta was up there on the parapet, she didn’t want to startle her. It would be best to approach slowly and quietly, perhaps even unseen. Her distraught mind presented her with the horrible scene of the child standing up there on great stone ready to jump to her death. Or, even worse, already lying below, a crumpled bloody heap.

“Dear God,” Edwina breathed. “Don’t let her do such a horrid thing.”

Carefully, she pushed open the tower door and cast a quick look around. Oh God! Outlined in the bright sunlight stood the dejected figure of Henrietta. The very way she stood spoke of deep-seated anguish. While Edwina watched, Henrietta took a hesitant step toward the parapet.

Her heart pounding in her throat, Edwina took a deep breath and tried to sound normal. “Hello, Henrietta. The view up here is lovely, isn’t it?”

The child swung around, her face contorted with misery. “What are you doing here? Go away. Leave me alone. I want to be with Mama.”

Edwina took a single step closer, careful not to reveal her apprehension. “Henrietta, my dear, your Mama is dead. She wouldn’t want you to mourn this way. It’s not good for you.”

Henrietta shook her head. “Mama’s body may be dead, but her spirit isn’t. I know. She talks to me. She wants me to come to her.”

“Henrietta!” Edwina’s tone was sharper than she intended. She tried to soften it. “While your mother was alive she loved you a great deal. Why would she wish you dead?”

Henrietta shook her head and the eyes that had been so blank before were full of agony. “She’s changed. She’s angry because she had to die. She wants us to die, too. She wants us to come to her.” Henrietta looked once more toward the parapet and Edwina’s heart raced.

“I don’t believe that,” she said firmly, edging closer. “But come, it’s time for our lunch. We can continue this discussion later.”

Henrietta shook her head. “I mustn’t leave the castle. It makes Mama even angrier.” The child raised defiant eyes. “Mama hates you, Miss Pierce. She means to kill you.”

In spite of herself, Edwina felt a cold chill. “I don’t believe that, Henrietta.” By then she was close enough to take Henrietta’s hand in her own. “Come, if you’re unwilling to leave the castle today we’ll lunch indoors.”

With some reluctance Henrietta allowed herself to be led back toward the tower and down the stairs to safety.

* * * *

Edwina saw the children seated at the luncheon table and with instructions to Simpson not to let Henrietta out of her sight, went to seek out the earl in his study. The door was closed, but she knocked briskly. She wouldn’t have another moment’s peace until that tower door was locked up tight. Imagine Henrietta standing on the parapet alone, waiting for her dead mother to tell her to jump! The earl had to know about this. Right away.

There was no answer to her knock and she rapped again more briskly. A moment later the door opened and she was face to face with the earl. The library was dim, the drapes drawn, and his eyes were full of misery. “Yes, Miss Pierce? What is it?”

“I must speak to you.” She made her tone firm. It was obvious the earl had been grieving for his dead wife again—and the past that would be no more. It was time for him to let go of his grief and consider the needs of the living. Past time.

He shook his head as though to clear it. “Yes, yes, come in.” He stood aside and she advanced into the darkened room and turned to face him. “I am here on serious business, milord.”

“Yes, of course. Come in.” His lordship seemed to be more in the present now. He eyed her curiously. “Has this business anything to do with the girls?”

Edwina nodded. “Yes, especially with Henrietta. Today I planned a lunch outdoors and while I was down telling Simpson what I wanted, Henrietta ran off. I was terribly worried, milord.”

Charles tried to shake off his irritation. The governess pounding on his door had put an end to a pleasant daydream of Catherine. It was getting harder and harder to call forth such memories. Why couldn’t Miss Pierce just leave him alone? What was the point of having a governess if she didn’t take care of the children?

But he supposed he’d have to listen to her. He was the father. “Why should Henrietta do such a thing? She’s always been an obedient child.”

Miss Pierce glared at him. “She ran off to hide because she believes that her mother didn’t want her to leave the castle.”

More of that. He wished he knew what Catherine did want from him. From his daughters. “And did you find her?” he asked calmly, hoping to soothe the governess.

Miss Pierce’s eyes widened and her lower lip trembled slightly. “Oh yes, I did. I found her. That’s what I came to you about. I found her up on the tower!”

His heart skipped a beat. “On the tower! But she’s never been allowed up there alone. Was she—” He couldn’t go on.

“She was standing back from the parapet,” Miss Pierce went on, her face pale. “But she told me her mother had been calling her. That she wants the child to go to her.”

Was that what Catherine wanted? To have her whole family join her in death? His blood went cold. “I’ve been afraid of this,” he said, “but I don’t know what to do about it.”

“You can lock the tower door,” Miss Pierce said briskly. “And you can spend more time with the girls. Our—their breakfasts are very good for them. But they need even more time with you. Cheerful fun time—like our visit to the sea!”

To the sea! Had she forgotten Constance’s near drowning? He felt again the terror of finding the child gone, of seeing Miss Pierce throw herself into the sea.

“We’re going for a walk in the woods soon,” she went on. “Things like that.”

He shook his head. What a determined innocent she was. Evidently she had wiped Constance’s accident from her mind. The falling stone, too. Give the girl a bed to sleep in and a full belly and she would fight even ghosts. “I can lock the tower door,” he said, “but that won’t stop Catherine if she wants the child! Ghosts care little for doors, you know.”

She glared at him, her breasts heaving with the force of her emotion. She needed to finish her new gowns. That shabby one was stretched tight across—Suddenly aware of where he was looking, he directed his gaze to her face.

“Milord!” she cried. “Surely you don’t believe in ghosts?”

He looked at her sadly. “There are many things in life we don’t understand, Miss Pierce. Many many things.”

She shook her head so fiercely that tendrils of hair whipped out of her chignon and flew about her face. “Even if there were a ghost—which I don’t for a moment believe—surely you would fight to keep her from claiming your children.”

He spread his hands helplessly. She knew so little, this fresh-faced determined chit. In spite of the harrowing life with that bounder of a father of hers, she knew so little. “How does one fight a ghost?” he inquired.

“By loving!” The words burst from her with such force that even she looked startled. “By loving,” she repeated more gently, her eyes wide with the effort of convincing him. “Your love for the girls will anchor them to this life and prevent Catherine from luring them away. If indeed she’s trying to.”