Household (22 page)

Though she knew little about America, the idea of Boston, first settled in the seventeenth century, appealed to Lucy. It remained for her to seek out Bob Smith, the butcher’s son, whom she knew. As a boy, he had been briefly employed as a groom at the Hold. Lucy had gone riding with him on several occasions, but she had not seen him in three years.

Three days after her conversation with Juliet and on her way to the butcher’s shop, Lucy was fortunate enough to meet Bob coming out. She experienced a shock on seeing him. Time had certainly wrought changes in the rather shy lad of 19 she remembered. At 22, he was self-confident to the point of brashness. He was also very nattily dressed, but seeing her he flushed as easily as he had when saddling her horse for her.

“Well, Miss Lucy,” he said, his admiring gaze on her face, “I’d ’ardley ’ave known ye. ’Aven’t you grown up, though!”

“Not high enough,” she said wryly. Her height, which was only two inches above five feet, was a sore point with her.

“’Igh enough for anyone wi’ eyes in ’is ’ead,” he responded and flushed. “Beggin’ yer pardon, Miss Lucy.”

“Please,” she said, “I am complimented. But you’ve been in America, have you not?”

“Yes, Miss Lucy, I ’ave. Boston. It’s a fine place, I tell you.”

“And will you return?”

“Yes, ma’am, we’ll be goin’ back.” A proud smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “Me ’n Jane Gordon, we’re goin’ to get married an’ leave on the Eastern Queen come month’s end.”

After she had congratulated him, Lucy said, “You will be settling in Boston?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a great little city. I’ve got me a job there, workin’ in the livery stables. I’m doin’ well. One o’ these days—but I shouldn’t be talkin’ ’bout that—but, well, America’s a place where a man don’t need to stay in a rut. ’E can move a’ead without folks puttin’ ’im in ’is place.”

“So I’ve heard. Though I expect you’d get ahead anywhere, Bob.”

“It’s good o’ you to say so, Miss Lucy. But America, it’s different. It’s for me.”

“I suppose everything’s new in Boston. Houses and...”

“Oh, no, ma’am,” he interrupted. “There’s old and there’s new, plenty o’ both when it comes to ’ouses.”

“And the people, are they congenial?”

“They are that, ma’am.”

“I understand that there’s some interest in the... spiritualist movement?”

Bob’s eyes, which were big and round, grew bigger and rounder. “D’you mean to say you’ve ’eard about that all the way over ’ere?”

Lucy blushed. “I’ve heard something of the sort.”

“Well, you’re right, ma’am. ’Tisn’t only Boston. It’s all over the bloomin’ country but it’s Boston where I live and they’re set on it there. Professors, doctors, scientists even.” By the time Lucy returned to the Hold, she was just as excited as Juliet had been. Judging from what Bob had told her, Boston did seem like the ideal place for them. It lay across the seas in America. Erlina Bell had predicted a long, hard way before they reached their final resting place... and did not Boston fill those requirements? The fact that they would be traveling upon the ocean rather than the roads of the world did not weigh with her; it was distance that mattered. And the distance between Northumberland and Liverpool was also considerable. Furthermore, no one would know about them in America, no one except Bob Smith and his bride and they were friends.

Her enthusiasm was a trifle dimmed by the time she presented the idea to Mark and the Old Lord. It was a radical change, and she expected an argument, but amazingly Mark agreed that it was a good idea, and after a few door slammings and window rattlings, so did the Old Lord. His situation had not robbed him of a sense of adventure. As he confided to Lucy, the idea of visiting the colonies had always appealed to him, and not even her reminder that the colonies had been a country for the last 75 years dimmed his anticipation.

Lucy, resuming her vigil by Tony’s bed on the evening after the vote had been taken, looked regretfully at her grandfather. It would be better not to tell him of their plans. He loved the Hold.

“Lucy...”

She tensed, looking at him anxiously. He had been sleeping, she thought, but now his eyes were open and fixed on her. “Lucy, my child...” He spoke with difficulty.

“Grandfather, dearest.” She moved nearer the bed, bending over him. “What may I fetch for you?”

“Nothing... but my father’s not with us now and I... wish to... to tell you. Do not persist in your... scheme. Leave the household. Go far away and make your own life. You should not be accursed, you who have done nothing but good. ’Twas wrong of me to let you remain. I should have sent you to... another place... another country.”

“I could never have left you, Grandfather.” She took his hand, holding it tightly, her distress increasing because his flesh was so cold even though the room was passing warm.

“Child, you must. I... I fear for you and I... beg you to leave while you may.” He eased his hand from her grasp and pointed a shaking finger. “See... the bedpost.”

“The bedpost,” she repeated, thinking he must be wandering in his mind. “What of the bedpost, Grandfather?”

“The one on the left... the knob unscrews. Open it now and take what you find inside.”

“But...”

“Do as I say,” he said in a stronger voice. “Use both hands.”

Since it was better to humor him, Lucy rose and put both her little hands around the left knob. To her amazement, it moved under her fingers. Beneath it was a hollow space filled with old gold coins. There seemed to be quite a few of them. She looked at her grandfather in amazement.

“I collected them as a lad... there are angels and sovereigns. They are worth quite a lot by now. I want you to take them for yourself, my Lucy, and go far, far away. Do not let them use you. It’s not fair.”

“Use me, Grandfather? I don’t understand.”

“You are too sensitive... and it will be dangerous, more dangerous than you know, this plan...”

“Plan?” she repeated, wondering angrily who had told him what they had in mind.

“None told me...” he whispered. “It was given me to know... a warning from Molly, who loves you, Lucy.”

His wits were wandering, she decided. Tony had never been able to interpret the words of the banshee. Only she and Juliet could.

“Please,” he whispered. “You must promise. There’s very little time.”

“Grandfather...” Tears started to Lucy’s eyes as she fell on her knees beside the bed.

“The gold,” he urged. “Let me see you take the gold and put it in your pocket. Take it, now.”

To humor him, she obeyed.

“Put the knob back in place... else he will know.”

“He?”

“Matthais...” Tony whispered. “He waits, and you must promise...” He broke off, staring past her. “Ah, my love, my Felicity, is it you then?”

“
Tony, my dearest, dearest, come
.”

Lucy felt rather than heard the words, but on glancing over her shoulder, she saw the girl, slender like herself, and knew that she resembled her grandmother even more closely than the portrait revealed.

She shifted her gaze to her grandfather and saw that his eyes were as ardent as those of the young man he had been so many years ago. He held out his arms, and with her heightened vision, Lucy rejoiced at their passionate embrace.

A second later, Tony lay very still but his lips were yet curved in that tender and welcoming smile.

❖

The Seventh Earl of More had been interred in the crypt for a day and the half of another one when Bob Smith came riding toward the Hold, choosing the same way, had he but known it, that Richard Veringer had come close to a century ago. Passing the battered remains of an ancient gibbet, Bob’s horse reared and snorted, snuffling as his rider soothed and gentled him. Crossing the sagging drawbridge, he urged his stallion into a gallop and a few minutes later dismounted and tied the animal to a nearby post.

Running up to the front door, he raised the rusty old knocker and let it fall again and again, slamming it against the plate as hard as he could, until the butler, muttering to himself, pulled open the assaulted portal. He started back with a cry which mingled anger and alarm as Bob rushed into the hall.

“Here, you,” the butler proclaimed, drawing himself up to his full height which unfortunately did not exceed that of Mr. Smith’s five and sixty inches. “Ye can’t come in here as if you was Lord’n Master!”

“I’ve got to see Miss Lucy,” Bob cried.

“Miss Lucy’s not receiving.”

“I tell you, I’ve got to see her!” Bob yelled.

“And I tell you, you’ll go around to the back door...”

“What is it, Angus?” Lucy asked from the first landing. The ancient butler gazed up at her apologetically. “This person...” he began loftily.

“Miss Lucy.” Bob Smith hurried toward the steps as she came down them, looking pale and drained in her black gown. On the landing above her, Mark stood watching, his golden eyes somber.

Bob said, “They be acomin’ up ’ere, Miss Lucy an’ uh... Mr. Mark.” His glance slid between the two of them. “That Mr. Veringer, ’im wot says ’e’s now the earl an’ owner o’ the castle. ’E’s got ’em, them wot ’angs around the tavern an’ a few o’ the lads wot’s always spoilin’ for a bit o’ mischief. ’E’s got ’em all riled up. ’E says ’e’s goin’ to burn the castle an’ them as lies in the graveyard, miss, as well. ’E says e’s goin’ to put stakes through their ’earts. ’E’s got the carpenter sawin’ up wood for ’em now... an’ the blacksmith’s ’eatin’ up ’is forge to make a silver bullet, same as wot done for your pa, Mr. Mark, only this time it’ll be for you.”

“But... but that’s madness!” Lucy burst out.

“An’ so me ’n Jane told ’em, Miss Lucy, but they be all riled up on account of Mr. Veringer ’n wot ’e’s sayin’. Cor, but ’e be a poor lookin’ sort, all bent over’n shakin’ in every limb like ’e ’as the palsy—only ’e says as ’ow ’e were done in by them wot lives in the castle.”

“It was his own cowardice that did for him,” Mark said contemptuously. “God, I wish they’d let me at him that night.”

“Shhhh.” Lucy shot a warning glance at him. “You know you don’t mean that.” She turned back to Bob. “When will they be here?” she demanded.

“Just after the sun goes down. They’ll be goin’ to the crypt first wi’ their stakes. They’re makin’ three o’ ’em. One for the old Lord wot just died.”

“Damn them!” Mark exploded. “Tony’s no...”

“Will you help us, Bob?” Lucy demanded briskly.

“I will that, miss. Wouldn’t be ’ere if I didn’t mean to ’elp ye.”

“You’d help us even if there were things we had to... remove from the crypt?”

“I’ll help you, too, Miss Lucy,” quavered the old butler. “I’m not afraid o’ Lord and Lady Veringer, an’ cook’ll lend a hand, too.”

“Me, too,” Bob said staunchly.

Lucy regarded them through eyes brightened by her tears. “You know,” she said.

“Of course they know, Lucy,” Mark said. “And since that information’s shared by most the village, we’d best get to work.”

❖

They stood on a distant tree-covered hill but one that commanded an excellent view of the castle, watching the small torch lit procession cross the bridge that spanned the moat. Lucy leaned against Mark, who had slipped an arm around her waist. Juliet and Colin were also side by side and, above them, a tree shook violently, even though there was very little wind. A short distance away from them, Bob Smith and Jane Warren sat, arms clasping their knees. Stacked beside them were a pile of canvases taken from the portrait gallery. Those and whatever garments could be piled into three large stout trunks were all that had been removed from the castle. Also with them were two coffins from the crypt and a bag of stones dug from the graveyard.

The small procession went into the castle, and in what seemed a very few minutes, the windows of the great edifice gleamed as red as if they were mirroring the rays of the dying sun.

Above the watchers on the hill a high wind seemed to hurl itself toward the Hold, its shriek even louder than that of Molly and her cat. To Lucy, it sounded like a dirge, but to the Old Lord, who had once been called Richard Veringer, its strident cadences issued from the throat of Erlina Bell.

T
he complications attendant on traveling to Liverpool and boarding the steamship Eastern Queen were augmented by the fact that Bob Smith and his Jane could not leave on the same ship after all. Due to the illness of Jane’s mother, they had to postpone their wedding to a later date. Consequently most of the arrangements for train and ship were handled by Mark and Lucy. Fortunately, this kept them from grieving too deeply over the demise of Tony and the razing of their ancestral castle.

Since it was not possible to take all the portraits, Lucy left a number of them in storage against the day when they might return, or so she told herself. Though they had booked a oneway passage, it was necessary to think of returning, otherwise the idea of leaving the Hold and England, too, would be overwhelming. Such thoughts had to be given short shrift as they prepared to embark.

The disposal of the two coffins presented a real problem. The man who booked the passage was definitely reluctant to take them aboard.

“I don’t know what the passengers’d say, Miss Veringer, if they was to know there was two bodies goin’ wi’ ’em.” He shook his head. “There’s enough o’ ’em as is queasy to begin with.”

Fortunately, he was not proof against Lucy’s sorrowful countenance and the sparkle of tears in her gentian blue eyes, as she feelingly spoke of her dearest aunt and uncle’s final wish to be buried in the New World they had left only to be felled in England by a virulent attack of the grippe.

Much to the relief of herself and especially Mark, the steamer would sail with the new moon, docking in Boston a scant ten days later, well in advance of the full moon. Still, when she finally stood with Mark on deck watching the shores of England recede, she was much less easy in her mind than she had hoped. Much as she did not want to anticipate trouble, she was thinking of her pending debut as a medium, and she was definitely nervous.

“No
need to be.
”

Lucy tensed and then smiled. Implicit in her great-grandfather’s reasoning was his promise that he would aid her. He had spoken vaguely about sources, but he had suggested that his acquaintance with the departed was wide, at least in England. He saw no reason why that should not hold true in America as well. Though comforted, she still wished that Tony might have added his own reassurances.