nothing in that room for me, except the ridiculous black paint. John?”
I watched John hoist Lord Waverleigh over his shoulder and carry him off down
the corridor.
Lady Waverleigh merely nodded when told that her husband was sound asleep in his
own bed. “My dearest Hobson will be just fine in a little while. Then he will
drink three cups of very strong tea.” She sighed and smiled at me. “It is his
way. I hope he was of help to you, Lady Devbridge?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I could think of nothing else to say besides that. Or should I say,
evil was in this house, not a long-dead evil, but an evil that lives right here,
in our midst, and what, pray tell, does that mean? But I knew it was here, I
knew it was just waiting.
But for what?
The next morning at breakfast, I was listening to Lord Waverleigh speak of a
castle in Cornwall, in ruins now, very close to Penzance, in which he had
personally located twelve different spirits, all of them long dead and alert and
in lively spirits, so to speak. “None of them wanted to leave, even though it
was now a ruin and no one lived there. It suited them, they felt it clearly to
me. They never bothered the local Cornish. But they very much enjoyed
terrorizing any visiting Englishman who chanced upon the castle.”
I didn’t want to believe him, but I did. He planned to visit the small room
where Amelia had fallen asleep, Caroline’s music room, just after breakfast.
Lawrence had told me he wished to be a part of this visit when he had seen me to
my room the previous night. He smiled down at me, gently laid his palm along my
cheek. “You are doing so well here, Andy. I am very proud of you. I heard your
praises loudly sung when I was in the village today. You also very wisely put
some money in every shopkeeper’s pocket. Well-done.” He kissed my cheek then,
something I was used to now. I no longer pulled away, even in my mind. Progress,
I thought, trust. He was a good man, and I promised myself yet one more time
that I would never forget what he had done for me.
And what had he done for me?
He had made me the mistress of a beautiful home. He had given me the protection
of his name. He had made no demands on me whatsoever. And I thought, what have I
done for him?
I wasn’t a clingy milksop, but how important was that? I wasn’t evil or
malicious or ignorant. I amused him, so he told me often. I got along well with
the family and the servants. I liked his daughter, and she seemed to like me.
Surely that was to everyone’s benefit.
But what I was, I knew now, and recognized it for the first time, was supremely
arrogant. I had set everything up and assumed it would remain exactly as I
wished it to.
One thing I was as well, I now freely admitted to myself?was stupid. I was a
blockhead. I had made a huge mistake marrying Lawrence. But it was done. Never,
never, would Lawrence know anything from me but all the affection I could muster,
all the kindness that was in me, all the loyalty that I felt to my very bones.
That morning, just Lord and Lady Waverleigh were with me at the breakfast table?and
George, of course. Lady Waverleigh had taken quite a fancy to George, and he was
exploiting her shamelessly.
I had just buttered a piece of toast, fed George a piece of crispy bacon?which,
if he weren’t such a glutton, he would have refused, since Lady Waverleigh had
already stuffed at least three slices down his gullet?when Brantley came into
the dining room and brought me a silver salver. “A letter for you, my lady,” he
said, and left the room as quietly as he had entered it.
“I know he was Moses in the Bible,” I said to my guests, smiling. In the next
minute I was so excited I nearly ripped the paper. “It is from my cousin,” I