Nina Coombs Pykare (27 page)

Edwina looked around her. Though it must be close to midnight, and the moon was bright, much of the roof was still deep in shadows. Her heart leaped into her throat. Good God! Over there! The moonlight showed a flash of white. Near the parapet that topped the far wall, stood a pathetic little figure in a pale nightdress.

“Mama, Mama.” Henrietta looked all around. “Why aren’t you here? Why don’t you come and tell me what to do?” She trembled. “Ma-ma! I don’t know what to do. Should I jump now?”

She raised a hand to her tearful eyes. “It’s such a long way down, Mama. You know I’m afraid up here in the dark. You know I always held your hand. Mama, where are you? Why don’t you answer me?”

This last was a heartbroken wail.

Heart pounding, Edwina tried to think. Henrietta hadn’t climbed up on the parapet. She wasn’t prepared to jump yet. But if she got startled, frightened- Edwina couldn’t chance that.

Yet she had to do something, she couldn’t just stand there and wait for the tragedy to happen. She pushed open the door and stepped into the moonlight, stopping right by the stairs door. “Hen—”

“Miss Pierce!” The child turned to glare at her. “Go away! I told you, Mama hates you. She wants you to die.”

“But if she hates me and wants me to die, how can she love you and want you to die?” Edwina argued.

Henrietta cast an agonized look around her. “I don’t know! I just don’t understand. She told me to come up here—in that scary hoarse voice. She told me, but now she’s not here. And I’m afraid.”

Edwina heard the plea for help in the child’s voice. “Of course, you’re afraid,” she agreed softly. “Anyone would be. But your Mama isn’t here now. You don’t hear her calling, do you?”

Henrietta shook her head. “No, no. Not now. I don’t know what to do. I want my Mama.”

“Of course you do,” Edwina said softly. “Anyone would. But since she doesn’t seem to be here, let’s go back to your room. That’s where she spoke to you, isn’t it? In your room?”

Tearfully Henrietta nodded.

“Then come. It’s cold and windy out here. You don’t want to catch a chill. We can hear her better in your room.”

While Edwina held her breath, hoping against hope, the child crossed the roof and put her cold hand in Edwina’s. “Oh Miss Pierce,” Henrietta sobbed. “I wish I could understand. I wish I knew for sure what Mama wants me to do.”

Edwina gathered the weeping child in her arms. “It’s all right to cry, Henrietta. Just go ahead—let yourself cry. Tears are good for you.”

For long minutes they stood there, Henrietta sobbing out her frustration and fear, and Edwina giving thanks to God that she hadn’t arrived too late. Thank God Henrietta hadn’t already leaped from the parapet to her death. For the moment, at least, the crisis was passed. Henrietta had allowed herself to be helped. That was a good sign, a very good sign. Perhaps the distance between them had been dissolved, perhaps now she could be reached.

Finally, when the child’s sobs dwindled, Edwina took up the candle and led her back down the tower stairs. “How did you get the door to open?” Edwina asked casually.

Henrietta sniffled. “Mama said it would be open and it was. All I had to do was turn the knob.”

Edwina nodded and went on. There was something very strange going on here. She knew quite clearly that the door had been locked. The earl had locked it at her request after the last incident. Every time she’d passed it in the days since then—and that had been often, daily at least—it had been locked. She knew because she’d always tried it.

A frown furrowed her forehead. There was certainly a mystery here. Ghosts were reputed able to walk through doors and walls—or at least if there were ghosts they could do these things—but could they unlock doors to allow for the passage of someone else? That seemed really strange.

She admitted to herself that her knowledge of ghosts and their behavior wasn’t that extensive. But the idea of a loving mother luring her daughter to her death—that didn’t fit with anything Edwina knew. There was something wrong about a mother doing that—something awfully wrong.

Edwina stifled a sigh. This whole business of the curse was distressing. If she didn’t love the earl and his daughters so much, she’d be tempted to get away from the castle as fast as she could, starvation or no starvation. The castle was a dangerous place for everyone who lived in it and doubly dangerous for young women. But she did love the earl and the girls, so there was no sense thinking of leaving.

By this time they had reached her bedchamber. When she opened the door and led Henrietta inside, a small tearful voice came from the bed. “Oh, Miss Pierce! You found her. I’m so glad!”

“Yes, Constance. I found her.” Edwina motioned. “Come, it’s back to bed for both of you.”

Constance scrambled from between the bed curtains and raced across the cold floor to cling to Edwina. “I’m scared, Miss Pierce. I’m so scared. I want to sleep with you. Please, can we, can we sleep with you?”

Edwina thought hard. She would get little rest if she must keep awake all night to watch Henrietta. The child could easily slip out the door into the hall—and in the huge castle she would be almost impossible to find. If someone wished to harm her-

“You know, Constance, I think that’s a good idea,” Edwina said. “We’ll all sleep together and be cozy in my bed.” She looked at Henrietta, still clutching her hand. “If you hear your Mama speak to you again tonight, will you tell me? Will you wake me and tell me?”

Henrietta nodded, her fingers tightening their grip.

In spite of her weariness and her worry, Edwina felt a current of satisfaction. Something had happened between them up there on the roof. She didn’t know exactly how it had happened, but there was a distinct change in Henrietta’s attitude toward her. She actually seemed to look to her governess for guidance.

Edwina set the candleholder on the table. “Come now, into the bed with you. Your feet must be like blocks of ice. This castle is too cold to be running about without slippers.”

Obediently the girls crawled between the curtains on the old bed. Edwina settled them beneath the covers. “Here, Henrietta, give me your feet.” One at a time, she chaffed the girl’s icy feet, then tucked them back beneath the covers.

“Me, too,” Constance piped up, and Edwina concealed a smile. Constance would never be left out. She knew how to ask for what she wanted.

“Very well. But then we must sleep.”

Soon Constance’s feet were warmed and tucked back under the covers and Edwina crawled in beside her.

“What about your feet, Miss Pierce?” Henrietta asked in a very small voice. “They must be cold too.”

Edwina found a sudden lump in her throat. “My feet will be fine, Henrietta. They’ll warm up soon. But thank you for thinking of me, dear. It was very considerate. Now let’s all lie quietly and get some rest. It’ll be morning soon and we’ll have schoolwork to do. We can’t forget about lessons.”

“Miss Pierce?” Henrietta whispered into the gloom.

“Yes, dear?”

“If- if Mama calls me, what’ll I do?”

“Wake me,” Edwina said. “Wake me immediately.” She turned to look at the child over Constance’s head. “Will you do that?”

Henrietta’s eyes flooded with tears again. “Yes, Miss Pierce. I promise. I will.”

“That’s a good girl. Now good night.”

Edwina forced her body to lie still, but her mind continued to race in maddening circles of thought. There must be some way to get to the bottom of this thing, some way to discover if there really was a ghost, or if someone else—someone like Lady Leonore (she seemed cold enough to do such an evil thing)—was talking to the girls, pretending to be their dead mother. Perhaps if Edwina slept with them from now on, she would hear the ghost, if it spoke again. At the least she could prevent Henrietta from running off.

Eventually she heard the soft measured breathing that told her the girls were both sleeping, but she couldn’t bring herself to relax enough to join them in slumber. The earl must be told of the night’s happenings. He must do something about that door—that dangerous door that led to the parapet.

Lying there in the darkness, she recalled that as she led Henrietta back to her room she’d seen a thin line of light under the door of the earl’s bedchamber. Perhaps she should go to him now. He should know what had happened. He should know right away.

She held her breath for a moment, listening to the rhythmic breathing of the sleeping girls. If she slipped out now, if she locked the door and took the key with her- They wouldn’t know.

She didn’t even try to talk herself out of it. She wanted, she
needed
, to see the earl. Slipping quietly from the bed, she went to find her robe and slippers.

Chapter Twenty-eight

The clock was striking one when Edwina left the room, locking the door carefully behind her. The girls lay in the sleep of exhaustion. They wouldn’t even know she was gone. Moving quietly down the dark hall, she shielded her candle against sudden drafts. Perhaps- Should she wait till after breakfast to speak to the earl? But no, she needed to see him now. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she had to. After her scare over Henrietta she needed to hear his voice, to see his dear face.

She knocked briskly on his door, but there was no answer. Standing there waiting, she was struck even more forcibly by the eccentricity of her actions. What was she doing here at the crack of dawn, in her robe and slippers, knocking on the earl’s chamber door? She must have lost her senses. She turned hastily away. To do such a terribly improper thing. What would he think of her? He already thought she was setting out lures for the-

“Miss Pierce? Is that you?” The earl’s voice sounded choked and she felt the heat flooding her cheeks. He had already opened the door and seen her, so she’d better turn and answer him.

“Yes, milord?” She tried to keep her voice as normal as possible, but she knew she hadn’t succeeded. Still, in spite of her embarrassment, it was good to hear his voice, to see his face.

His eyes lingered on the throat of her robe where the lace of her nightdress showed. His eyes were dark, unfathomable. She wanted them to turn warm, to . . . He took a single step toward her and stopped abruptly. “It’s one o’clock in the morning,” he said, his voice gone flat.

“Yes, milord. I know.” She tried not to notice that he was in his dressing gown, his hair all rumpled with sleep. “I- I came to talk to you.”

Over his shoulder she could see into the room, the bedchamber that Charles had shared with his lovely wife, the fragile so beautiful Catherine. Her gaze moved swiftly over the room. It appeared that he hadn’t changed a thing in the months since Lady Catherine’s death.

The room had obviously been designed as a foil for her beauty. The white furniture was trimmed in gold, constructed with fine Grecian lines, and the room was decorated in shades of lavender and white, even to the curtains on the great bed, from which Edwina now averted her gaze. She could almost see Lady Catherine in this room, in a lace nightdress, waiting in that great bed. See the earl moving toward her with passion in his eyes. See him-

Charles stared down at her. Good God! What was Edwina doing outside his door at this hour of the night? In her nightdress yet! For a moment, when he’d opened the door, he’d thought it was Catherine standing there. Catherine’s ghost, with her black hair cascading down her back. That she would turn around and invite him into her deathly embrace.

But then he knew better, he knew it was Edwina. For a moment he could hardly believe what he was seeing. After all, he’d been lying for hours thinking about her, wishing to see her, to hold her to him. There she was—so close, and so like the vision he’d been torturing himself with. He almost reached out to pull her into his arms, to end the torture in his soul. He even took a step toward her. But he stopped himself. What was he thinking? He had no right to touch her. Not even to look at her. He was Catherine’s husband. Catherine’s husband still.

But he couldn’t be standing here, thinking. He had to do something. He shook himself into alertness. “Miss Pierce, do you realize what time it is? It’s after one. You could not wait until morning to speak to me?”

Her cheeks flaming, she shook her head. “It—it’s important, milord. And I—I didn’t think about the time. I just thought that I needed to talk to you. So I came.”

Not think about the time. How could she not think about the time? He shook his head. “Miss Pierce, you astound me. What can be so important that you risk your reputation coming to me at this hour?” He frowned. If she only knew how she looked, how she made him yearn to fold her close and cover her mouth with— “In such dishabille?”

She colored up even more, pink spreading over her cheeks and down her throat to disappear under the lace that kept drawing his gaze. “It — it’s Henrietta, milord. I need to talk to you about Henrietta.”

She was really worried. He saw that now, now that he’d managed to get his attention away from her bosom, away from her mouth and what he’d like to do to it. He felt a pang of guilt. She looked so lost and alone. But he knew her — if something was really wrong, something he could to do about it, she wouldn’t just be standing there, she’d be yelling at him. “Here, Miss Pierce, you need not stand about in the hall. Come in, come in by the fire where it’s warmer.”

Dutifully she followed him into the room, the room he’d shared with Catherine. He didn’t want to think about that now. He didn’t want to think about Catherine and the life that was over. It
was
over, he realized with something of a shock. Finally he could see that—it was over.

He led Edwina to his chair by the fire, saw her settled in it. Then he took the one facing it, the one that had been Catherine’s. “I trust Henrietta has come to no harm, or you would already have informed me about it.”

“Henrietta is all right,” she said. “That is, she’s all right now, but we must talk about this before something else happens.”

Now that they had more light and he could see better, he didn’t like that strained look on her face. Something was definitely wrong. “Tell me about it, then.”