The Countess by Catherine Coulter

earlier when you came in here and it became the knife in your nightmare.”

“No, I did not,” I said.

“Andy,” Amelia said, coming to pat my shoulder, “You must let this go. It’s over.

You are all right. George is all right. It has been a difficult day. You will

forget all about it in the morning.”

In that moment, for the first time, I wondered if perhaps I didn’t imagine the

old woman, if it had been a violent nightmare, brought on by the blow to my head

or the dreadful cold menace I’d felt in the Black Chamber. And there had been

the slamming door in my face, Amelia trapped, calling out to me.

I no longer knew. I felt a huge wave of sheer exhaustion wash through me. I had

nothing else to say. I turned away from all of them and walked back to The Blue

Room, George trotting just behind me.

I heard Thomas say, “This was only her first day here. I dread to see what will

happen on her second.”

I dreaded it more than he did.

I shut my bedchamber door, paused just a moment, then turned the key in the lock.

If the old woman came back, then she was either a violent aftershock from my

mind or she was a spirit. Either way, I knew it would not be a very good thing.

I surprised myself. I fell asleep almost instantly. However, George managed to

beat me. I closed my eyes with the sound of his snoring in my ears.

In the morning, my first thought was no, I did not imagine anything. If I had to

do it myself, I would search every inch of Devbridge Manor. I would find a clue

to that miserable old woman who had frightened me witless.

When I saw how everyone was looking at me the following morning when I came down

to the breakfast room, I decided to change my tactics. I gave everyone a big

smile and said, all modest humility, “You have all been so very kind. Goodness,

you even treated me well in the middle of the night when my imagination went

berserk and I conjured up a vision to terrify myself. I apologize to all of you.

It is forgotten. Thank you for being so very kind. I should love some scrambled

eggs.”

I picked up my plate and went to the sideboard. I fetched George three slices of

very crispy bacon and one small kipper. It was no surprise that conversation was

on the stiff side. However, I just continued to beam good humor, smiles, and

speak of nothing more weighty than the lovely weather, so unusual for November,

and it did not take long for everyone to breathe metaphorical sighs of relief

and resume their normal thoughts and actions.

Toward the middle of the morning, I changed into my riding clothes and walked to

the stables, George trotting beside me. It was overcast now, a bit on the chilly

side, the lovely weather only a memory. But Brantley had assured me that it

would not rain until late afternoon.

Since I was convinced that he was Moses, I believed him implicitly.

Rucker saddled Small Bess for me and gave me a hand up. I petted Small Bess’s

glossy bay neck. “You are lovely, you know that?” George was barking, and so I

asked Rucker to hand him up to me. “He can run later. Right now, he can ride.”

I did give Tempest one wistful look before I lightly tapped my heels into Small

Bess’s sides. I called back to Rucker, who was standing there, watching me, “If

anyone wonders where I am, just tell them that I’m going to the village to meet

our merchants.”

I didn’t ride to the village. George, Small Bess, and I went to the narrow

stream that ribboned east to west on Devbridge land. I left Small Bess free to

eat whatever grass pleased her. I carried George to the edge of the stream and

sat down beneath a billowing willow tree. George sat beside me, tall and

straight.

“George,” I said. “I could have imagined that hideous old woman. I don’t think I