The Ghosts of Ravencrest (The Ravencrest Saga Book 1) (14 page)

Just then, Carmilla Harlow appeared. She wore a cloak of brown wool, open to reveal a low bodice, black gloves, and a mischievous smile Alice had always distrusted. “I come bearing treats, children.” She pulled her hand from her muff and extended it to Prudence and Parnell. She held several sugarplums. She looked at Alice. “You don’t mind.” It wasn’t a question.

Alice’s children weren’t so easily ushered into poor etiquette. “May we, Mama?” asked Prudence.
 

“Please?” Parnell echoed.

Alice nodded. It would be cruel to deny them the sweets now.

They plucked the candies from papers in their nanny’s gloved hand.

Carmilla tossed her head back and laughed. A glossy strand of black hair trailed out of her cowl, coiling down her bosom, but she did not bother to replace it.
 

Before Alice could tell the children to eat their treats, Sir Thomas, now aware of Carmilla, turned and offered her another overdone bow. “How do you do, Mademoiselle?” he asked.

Carmilla Harlow’s eyelashes fluttered in a way that bordered on improper - lewd almost - and she gave Sir Thomas a small curtsy.

Edward turned and greeted the nanny, but Carmilla only had eyes for Thomas. That was so often the way it was when her brother-in-law was present. Alice often puzzled over Edward’s apparent indifference to the fact. She’d think any man would be envious of the kind of attention Sir Thomas received, but Edward was impervious. It was one of his many charms.

“Eat slowly,” Alice said to Parnell, who had shoved two entire sugarplums in his mouth.

Carmilla gave the boy a sympathetic look, then turned her eyes to Alice, her false red smile unfaltering as she reached into her muff and retrieved another glazed plum. “Perhaps you should try one yourself, Lady Alice.” She proffered it.

Alice shook her head. “No, thank you.”

Carmilla’s smile broadened. “As you wish. Personally, I find no fault in the indulgence of sweet things.” Her gaze dashed to Sir Thomas as she popped the plum into her mouth.

Thomas swallowed and appeared uneasy.
 

Edward moved closer to his wife, sensing the anger - and embarrassment - building within her.
 

Then Carmilla handed Sir Thomas a plum, which he chewed with enthusiasm. “She’s right, you know,” he said to Alice, his mouth still full. “You should try one. Sweets might do you some good.”

Alice’s gloved hands became fists within her muff.

How dare this woman undermine me in front of my children, and how dare Thomas not only encourage her, but join her!

Anger became rage, a silent fury that settled itself upon Alice’s left temple, but she would not admit her jealousy. She could already feel the headache beginning. “No, thank you,” she said, her voice level. “I’d like to fit into this dress again for next year’s Frost Fair should we be ... blessed ... with another winter such as this.”

Carmilla made a coughing sound, almost choking on her sugarplum.

Thomas’ steel blue eyes lit with amusement. “Ha! Indeed, dear sister. Indeed!” His laughter only angered Alice more. “Miss Harlow, you’d best watch your stays!”

It was Carmilla’s turn to look irritated, but Thomas turned his roguish smile upon her and it worked. Alice resolved to discuss Carmilla’s employment with her husband. The girl was vulgar and improper despite her apparent education. When they got a moment alone, Alice would inform Edward that she no longer wished to employ the young woman.
 

Edward smiled at his wife. “Are you enjoying yourself, m’Lady? Your cheeks are a lovely shade of pink.”

“Thank you, but I’m afraid it’s just the cold air.”  No matter what else was happening, the love in Edward’s eyes always made her happy; it made her feel like a young girl being courted.

“My dear,” he continued, beaming at her as the children went to their uncle, who was bent down sharing secrets with them. “What would you most like to do?”

“Perhaps a mug of hot cider?”
 

“Excellent idea,” Edward said. “What do you think, Thomas?”

Thomas stood up. “I believe there’s a shop just there.” He pointed down the row of tents, then swept Parnell into his arms and took Prudence’s hand. They all walked to the stand where the scents of apples and spices made Alice feel warmer.
 

Thomas stepped forward and spoke to the shopkeeper. “Four hot ciders for the ladies and two hard hot ciders, my man!”

“Excuse me,” said Carmilla. “Make that three hard ciders.” She glanced at Edward and said, “Hard cider warms the belly better than fresh.”

A moment later, they all sipped from their mugs. Alice inhaled the fragrant steam and tried to enjoy herself rather than fixate on her growing dislike of the nanny she and Edward had hired two years before.

When they had interviewed her, Carmilla had seemed smart, sensible, and professional. Soon after the woman moved into Ravencrest, however, Alice began noticing a change in her. It began with a subtle coquettishness toward the males in the household. Alice even began to suspect Miss Harlow had no interest in the children. She glanced toward her brother-in-law, who’d once more lost himself in the children’s world, bending down to point out the myriad attractions around them, as Carmilla stood back, looking bored, her eyes as hard as her cider. Alice wondered what the nanny really wanted.
 

As soon as they returned the empty mugs to the cider vendor, Thomas looked from Alice to Edward. “The children have made a request.”

Edward beamed. “Have they now? And what might that be?”

Parnell stepped forward. “Papa, we would like Uncle to take us sledding.” He nodded to the east where children and a few adults rode makeshift sleds down a low bank of snow.
 

“Please, Papa?” Prudence begged.

Edward gave Alice a look. She admired him for considering her feelings. She gave her consent with a barely perceptible nod. Surely, sledding on that small hill would be safe and perhaps take her son’s mind off the donkey ride.

“Very well, you may,” said Edward. “But do be careful.”

The children clapped their hands as Thomas slapped Edward on the back. “I shall return them both to you in sound condition, Brother.”
 

“Make certain you don’t let them out of your sight,” Alice said.

Carmilla came to life. “I shall accompany them, Lady Alice, to be sure they are safe.”

Without waiting for a reply she hurried after them.

“Another cider?” Edward asked. “Perhaps inside the tavern tent where we can warm ourselves by the fire?”

“That would be lovely.”

Lovely was not the right word. Inside the tent, it was warmer, but full of smoke from the fires and candles and acrid with tobacco spiraling from clay pipes. As it wasn’t yet noon, at least the ale room wasn’t too crowded and few were yet drunk. Alice waited for Edward to bring their mugs of cider to the table in the corner she’d chosen. In the smoky half-lit room, the other patrons were difficult to make out behind the hazy lights from pipe and candle, but she heard harsh feminine laughter and saw a painted woman sitting on the lap of a gotch-gutted man no more than six feet away. He had his hand under her skirt and eyed the woman’s bosom, so white and ample it overflowed from her low gathered bodice, nearly covering her tight corset.
 

Edward appeared, carrying steaming mugs. He set them on the table as the woman laughed again. “You’ve chosen a seat near a public ledger, my dear?” His smile was gentle, humorous.

“I didn’t mean to, Edward.” She smiled back, leaned across the tiny table and whispered. “I suppose that man is looking to make a deposit.”
 

Edward laughed heartily. “You, my lovely wife, never cease to delight me.”

Smiling, Alice asked, “Which mug is mine?”

“Either. One hard cider is enough for anyone this early in the day.”

That was another reason she had chosen Edward. So many of her friends complained about their husbands’ drinking. Edward was a moderate man and never had she experienced the violence and abuse other women ascribed to their drunken mates. She chose a mug and tasted the cider. It was watered down, a poor substitute for the cider at the open tent. But it was hot and warmed her belly.
 

Edward tasted his and looked displeased. “I suppose we’re paying more for the atmosphere,” he said as the fat man grabbed one of the public ledger’s breasts and tried to lick it. The prostitute shrieked and cried, “You’re a naughty boy!”

Alice tried to hide her distaste, but Edward knew. “Shall we move over there?”

It was a table only a dozen feet away. “Let’s,” Alice said. “I need to talk to you about Miss Harlow and I can’t even hear myself think, here.”

They rose, gathered their muffs and carried their ciders further into the dark tent. Once they were seated, Edward looked at her. “Miss Harlow?”

Alice stared at her cider. “She troubles me.”

Edward sat back, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Oh?” he asked. “How so, my dear?”

“I don’t know. There are many reasons, truly. The way she only ever seems to be half-listening. Her over-familiarity with the male staff. And with you, sometimes.” She looked at him.
 

Edward cocked an eyebrow. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Alice felt foolish. “Mostly,” she continued, “it’s the way she is with the children. Or rather, the way she
isn’t
with them.” Her eyes flashed on him. “Surely, you noticed who took the most interest in Prudence and Parnell this morning. Why should your brother, a bachelor, be more attuned to the children than their nanny? It seems unnatural.”

“Well, she did go to oversee the sledding.” He spoke with half a heart.

“And I think we both know why that is. She didn’t go because of the children, I am certain. She joined them only because she wants to catch Thomas’ eye.”

Edward gave her a mock frown. “But I thought she was fond of me. How disappointing.”

Alice sighed. “Do be serious, Edward.”

He leaned forward and placed his large warm hands over hers. His fragrance - Genévrier de la Mer - Thomas’ signature cologne redolent of the sea and pine forests in summer - calmed her. “All right, then.” His eyes settled on hers. “First thing upon our return to Ravencrest, I will speak to her and explain the situation, and we shall begin searching for a new nanny after the new year.”
 

“You mean you will terminate her?” Great relief settled over Alice. Then sudden worry. “What if she becomes angry?”

“Why should you fear her anger?” He paused. “Though by the look of her, I’ll wager she can be quite a surly boots.”

Alice puzzled a moment. “I don’t fear her anger, except perhaps if she takes it out on the children. Edward, she troubles me.”

“We shall part ways with her amicably, of course. Perhaps we should wait until after the holidays to keep the household running smoothly?”
 

“Perhaps,” she said. She almost added that Grandmother Manning, Johanna, would be happy to help nanny them if they let Carmilla go straight away.
 

Edward patted Alice’s hand. “I shall take care of it, my dear. Finish your cider and we shall go gather our children.”

Sledding

“Uncle Thomas!” cried Parnell. “Look!”
 

“Jolly good, Nephew!” Thomas called to the boy. “You, too, Miss Prudence!” The children, each on a dubious sled made of wood and rope, readied themselves on top of a dirty, snow-covered hill near the edge of the frozen river.
 

“Oh, my,” said Miss Harlow just as they pushed off. “Look at that, Sir Thomas!” She pointed.

Without thinking, Thomas followed her finger. Several yards behind them was a small rowboat, its rear raised in the air, the bow frozen beneath the ice. He returned his gaze back just as the children reached the bottom of the hill and began pulling their sleds back up.
 

“Let us get closer, Sir Thomas. I should like to see it.” Carmilla’s voice was soft, childlike, and although she was an attractive woman, Thomas found her somehow disturbing and rather tedious. She lacked Alice’s qualities. Annoyed, he turned to watch the children dash down the hill on their sleds, then rush back to the top to repeat the ride.
 

Carmilla tugged at Thomas’ coat sleeve. “The children won’t miss us. We’ll be right there, where they can see us.” She wrapped her arm through his and he let himself be led toward the small frozen boat.

Despite himself, Thomas bent for a closer look. Carmilla crouched next to him. Her flowery scent was strong, sweet, and unpleasant; it was not something he would have been proud of creating.

He stood. “I think we should get back to the children.”

Carmilla mumbled something low and intense. He could not understand her words.

“What did you say?”

She looked up at him with large, liquid eyes. “Nothing,” she said. “Come down here and look at this.”

In the distance, the children raced back to the top of the snowy hill. “Look at what?”

“Come closer.”

Thomas moved beside her.

Carmilla pointed. “Look there. You can see right through the ice.”

Thomas leaned in.

As Carmilla made room, she swayed a bit, grabbing onto Thomas’ arm to steady herself.

He took her elbow. “Be careful, Miss Harlow. We don’t want any accidents.”
 

Just then he heard ice crack somewhere close by.

“Let us depart.” He began to rise, but Carmilla tightened her grip on his arm. “Wait,” she said. “Not yet.”

Thomas bent his head to see her face. “Are you unwell, Miss Harlow?”

“I’m very cold, Sir Thomas.” Despite her words, Carmilla stripped the gloves from her hands and moved closer to him. “Very cold, indeed.” Then her hand was inside his overcoat, on his thigh, moving upward.
 

He watched in shocked silence as it moved toward his groin, and once there, cupped the whole of his manhood and gave it a firm squeeze.

“Keep me warm?” Her voice was a purr.

Stunned, Thomas pushed her hand away. “I say, I never-” Words failed him. He stood.