Nina Coombs Pykare (19 page)

Miss Pierce’s hands were clenched into fists. She shook one at him. “You must fight, milord. Fight anyone and anything that wants to harm your children.”

He felt dazed, overwhelmed by so much confidence, so much determination. “Perhaps you’re right. But I have so little strength.” He spread his hands in frustration. “Catherine meant so much to me. She was my life. My whole life.”

Edwina hardened her heart. The time for grief was long past. “Catherine is dead, milord. Dead. She is beyond your care, beyond your love. But your daughters are still very much alive. Very much alive. Very much in need of your love.”

The earl shook his head wearily, his face twisted with confusion. “I don’t know. I just don’t know. It is so difficult. How can I be there for anyone? Most of the time I don’t feel alive myself.”

“The girls,” Edwina repeated sternly, “need you. Take them away from the castle, if you must. You seemed another man when we were by the sea. You were alive then. Happy. Well, almost happy.”

He paused as though thinking about what she’d said. His face lightened a little. “That’s true, I was. It was a strange sensation. Almost as though I escaped Catherine’s power—for a little while, in any case.”

“Catherine has no power over you,” Edwina said. She had to make him see, make him understand. “Except what you yourself give her. Surely your children deserve a chance at life.”

The earl sighed. “You’re so strong, Miss Pierce. Have you nerves of iron? Does nothing frighten you?”

If only he knew. She was frightened now, frightened that he would give up, that he would let the ghost of Lady Catherine—or whatever it was—ruin his life, and that of the girls. “There’s nothing extraordinary about me, milord. I’m just an extremely practical person, given to dealing with life in a practical way. The only supernatural power that I recognize is that of love—love that wishes the best for the loved one.”

“But that accident!” he cried. “Weren’t you frightened by that great stone crashing so near you?”

“Of course I was frightened,” she replied. “But that was an accident.” A picture of the mangled rat flashed before her eyes, but she suppressed the memory.

She had no intention of telling the earl about the mangled rat—or about the miniature shroud that she’d found beside it. That would only make him more adamant about the danger to her, danger she had to believe was man-made, but that he would insist was supernatural.

Perhaps the sensible thing was to leave the castle, but she had no intention of doing so. No intention at all.

The earl smiled at her. There was on his face the merest hint of the man she had seen by the sea. “Miss Pierce, you’re an exceptional woman.”

Edwina shook her head. “No, milord. It’s only that I fight for what I believe. I don’t give up. Not ever.”

There was a long moment of silence while the earl stared morosely into the fire. “You fight,” he said softly. “Always you fight. Is there nothing—no calamity, no loss, that can sap your energy, your will to live? That can make you surrender?”

Edwina shook her head and moved closer. His shoulders were bent as though under a terrible burden. She longed to hold him as she might hold Constance, to tell him everything would be all right. She took a deep breath. This was not the time for comforting. Somehow she must make him understand. “No, milord. I have suffered many losses. I lost my father. And before that my chance for a husband. And before that my mother. But I didn’t give up then, and I won’t give up now. Henrietta and Constance must be saved. You must help me save them.”

His shoulders seemed to stiffen and then he straightened. He turned from the fire and met her gaze. “You shame me,” he said softly. “A mere woman with the courage to fight the supernatural.”

Edwina frowned. “I don’t believe in ghosts, milord. I have told you that before. If there is evil in this world, in this castle, it’s of the human variety.” She wanted to believe that. She
had
to believe it.

“Have you,” she went on, choosing her words carefully, “have you considered that Lady Catherine’s death was not—might not have been—an accident?” She wanted to suggest that since Lady Leonore had been the one doing all the talking about the curse, perhaps she was somehow involved—but that wouldn’t be wise. The earl had been most patient with her during this trying conversation. She didn’t want to push him too far. And to insult the lady . . .

For long moments his gaze held hers. She kept her expression steady. She mustn’t let any hint of her own doubts reach him. It was imperative that he regain his will to live—and to fight. For the sake of his children.

Finally he sighed. “No, Miss Pierce, I have not considered it. And I will not. Such a thing is impossible. No one here wished her harm. How could they? She was an angel.”

Edwina opened her mouth to protest that even angels might have enemies, but he raised a silencing hand and some of the commanding air of his position returned to him. “You have impressed me with your arguments, Miss Pierce. And with your valor. I agree to fight the ghost.” His eyes saddened. “But I must tell you that I
do
believe in the supernatural. I have been forced to it by events beyond my comprehension. I believe in Catherine’s ghost. Yes, I do.”

Again Edwina attempted a reply and again she was stopped by that look of stern command.

“Go now, Miss Pierce. You have done your best and I have agreed to fight. Ask no more of me today.” His head drooped and he turned toward his chair. “I am weary.”

She nodded. “Yes, milord. And thank you.”

She was halfway to the door when she remembered. “You will lock the tower door, won’t you?”

He sighed. “Yes, Miss Pierce. I will lock it immediately. I give you my word.”

She reached the hall and discovered that she had been holding her breath. Slowly she let it out. When the earl took on that commanding air, she found herself almost frightened. But, she told herself with a grim smile, she had held her ground. Feeling fear was not important. It was how one handled fear that mattered.

She started back to the dining hall and the girls. Perhaps God would forgive her the slight lie she had told his lordship. She did not want to believe in spirits, but sometimes she had trouble keeping to her resolve. The sort of things that happened at Holmden Hill were enough to frighten even the most sensible person. But one thing was certain—no matter how frightened she might get, she would not run away. Human being or ghost—she would not let either one drive her from the place she now considered home. Or from the girls who had crept into her heart and become like her own dear ones.

Chapter Nineteen

As the summer days passed and fall drew nearer, Edwina did everything in her power to reach Henrietta with her love. But she was careful not to treat one girl any differently than she treated the other. Too much pressure might drive Henrietta away. Edwina sighed. She had to be patient and let the child come to her in her own time.

Sometimes she sensed a softening in Henrietta. Other times she felt that Henrietta was regarding her almost with aversion. But Edwina chose to disregard this too. The best course was to maintain an even disposition and give Henrietta time. Time was what they all needed. If only they were allowed to have it.

Several weeks after her discussion with his lordship, Edwina thought about this as she prepared for bed. Time had passed and things had been relatively quiet. There had been no more discipline problems with Henrietta—aside from the distant way she insisted on behaving. And whenever Edwina tried the tower door, which was often, she found it securely locked. That was reassuring.

She felt a certain sense of satisfaction when she settled beneath the coverlet that night. There had been no more screams from the girls’ room. The nights were silent and peaceful—and their days pleasant. The girls were growing more at ease. And so was she.

She stretched and sighed, her thoughts reverting to the day the great stone had ‘accidentally’ fallen and the night she found the rat outside her door. Both those occurrences were strange. Perhaps even stranger—why had events like that stopped happening? Were those responsible for trying to frighten her giving up the effort? And if so, why? Had they decided she couldn’t be frightened off?

Perhaps, said a small voice in her head, perhaps the ghost of Lady Catherine had come to understand her wish to help the children. Edwina shivered. She would not believe in ghosts. She simply would not.

She closed her eyes, she had to relax, to sleep. Lying awake all night wouldn’t help her with the girls. She had to be alert to deal with them.

* * * *

Sometime later, Edwina opened her eyes. Something was wrong, but what was it? She lay silent, listening intently, but she could hear nothing out of the ordinary.

Finally she crept from her bed and lit a candle, moving on bare feet into the girls’ room. They both seemed to be sleeping soundly. But, as she withdrew her head from between their bed curtains, she heard a sound.

A low garbled cry—the cry of something unholy—raised the hair on the back of her neck. She strained to hear better. The sound came again—from outside the door! In the stillness of the sleeping castle it chilled her to the bone.

In the bed Henrietta tossed restlessly. Poor child. Her sleep must be troubled by nightmares of her Mama. Could she be hearing, even in her sleep . . .

The garbled cry came again. Edwina felt her anger rising. How dare anyone hurt her children. If she could only catch this ghost in the act! She moved across the room, her bare feet making no sound. Maybe if she unlocked the door, she could surprise it!

Her fingers trembling, she felt for the key. In the silence of the room the sound of its turning seemed extraordinarily loud. Henrietta moaned. Edwina held her breath, but there were no more sounds from the bed or from outside the door.

Quietly, still holding her breath, she turned the knob and swung the door open, ready to grapple with anyone out there. But the hall was empty. She peered quickly, left and right. Then left again.

There! Far down the hall flitted a figure in white. Edwina grabbed the candle. That was enough! She was tired of being baffled and mystified by these strange goings-on. This time she would get to the bottom of the mystery. This time she would find out who was responsible for the events of the past weeks. And make them pay!

The floor was icy cold to her feet, but it registered only as an annoyance. Following that ghostly figure was more important than bodily comfort. At last there was something she could do to fight the insidious fear that had hung over them since she’d arrived. She would follow the ghost—she would catch it and force the truth from it.

For a moment her steps faltered. How could she do that? How could she hold on to a ghost? Or force it to do anything?

But she kept going. She would cross that bridge when she came to it. And, if, when she caught up with that elusive figure in white, if it wasn’t Lady Leonore, if it did indeed turn out be the ghost of Lady Catherine—well, Edwina would deal with that, too. She’d have to, that’s all.

The candle flickered and her heart jumped. She shielded the flame with her other hand. It was quite probable that the ghost had seen the light and knew that it was being followed. Edwina was aware of that, but she was so intent on gaining her purpose that she didn’t stop to worry about why it had allowed itself to be seen.

As the figure in white turned off down one of the corridors, it passed the door to the bedchamber of the earl and, somewhat later, that of the viscount. Maybe she should wake them to come help her. By now they must both be sleeping soundly, and if she tried to rouse them, the ghostly figure would be out of sight, lost to them all.

So Edwina hurried on, more determined than ever to get to the bottom of things.

She seemed to have gained a little ground. The figure in white looked a little larger as it moved off down a corridor that led to rooms long shut up. A chill that had nothing to do with the floor beneath her bare feet shivered through Edwina. The chill of fear, she admitted, forcing herself to go on. She had come this far and she wouldn’t turn back. But being in the deserted part of the castle somehow made it seem more likely that the figure she followed was indeed a ghost, a supernatural being come to do them all harm.

The candle flickered wildly and her heart rose up to choke her. There were no hall candelabra in this section of the castle because the rooms were closed off. If she lost her only source of light . . The thought wasn’t a pleasant one and she refused to consider it further. The castle might be a trifle drafty, but there was no reason for a candle to go out. Not if she was careful.

Ahead of her the figure paused. Then, as Edwina drew closer, it moved into a dark doorway. Shielding her candle, she hurried after it. She stopped in the doorway. This one. This was the one. At least she thought so. She peered inside, but she could make out very little. A dark cavernous room that seemed to have no limits, it was almost like a great black hole.

She shivered. She was no longer sure that the figure she’d followed was human. What malicious evil waited for her in that terrifying darkness? Perhaps she should go back to her nice warm bed. The ghost—or whatever it was—appeared to have vanished. Unless, of course, it was hiding somewhere in that darkened room—waiting for her!

Involuntarily, she took a step backwards. But then she stopped and stiffened her spine. This was ridiculous. She had set out to discover the identity of the figure in white and now—when that possibility lay almost within her grasp—she was thinking about running away! This would never do.

Clenching her free hand into a fist, she took a deep breath and stepped into the darkened room. One, two, three steps, she took, looking all around. The candle, which now had begun to flicker ominously, did not cast its light far enough to illuminate the dark corners, or even the entire center of the huge room. Beyond its little halo of brightness loomed great black shadows of holland-swathed furniture, shadows that threatened her with some unknown evil.