Ben Stokes entered
the Old House as quietly as he could. The parlour was dark
and quiet, so he turned toward the stair. As he climbed
the steps, the third one groaned, and Ben froze, listening.
The soft sound of movement came from above, and shaking his head,
Ben continued his ascent. On the first floor, all
the doors were closed except for one, and it was this one in which
Ben stopped in the portal, his eyes searching the shadowed darkness.
The acrid smell of still warm tallow met him, and Ben moved cautiously
toward where the smell was strongest. He found the still
soft candle easily, and lit it, hearing as he did so a movement
toward the door.
Reacting quickly for such a large man, Ben
easily caught the small intruder. "You ain't s'posed
t'be here, Master Bramwell."
The boy looked defiant. "You
can't tell me what to do, Ben," he reminded the servant.
"I wasn't doin' any such thing, boy.
I was just tryin' t'tell ya that your father's lookin' for ya.
And if he had found ya here-"
Bramwell frowned. "How does he
know I'm gone?" he asked.
"Apparently he went t'your room t'check
on ya. Then he found the secret passageway slightly open
and came t'get me an' Riggs. I sent Riggs t'the stables.
I knew where I'd find ya."
Bramwell lifted his eyes to the portrait
above the fireplace. "I thought I heard her calling
to me." He remained like that, his attention wholly
fixed on the portrait of his mother.
Ben felt a shiver of fear up his spine,
placed his hand on the boy's arm. "Come back t'Collinwood,
Master Bramwell," he pleaded, frightened for the boy's sanity.
"Before Mr. Barnabas finds out you've been here."
"I don't care if Father finds out,"
Bramwell said bravely. "This is where I really belong,
Ben. Not at Collinwood."
"Ya can't stay here, Master Bramwell,"
Ben insisted. The door downstairs opened, and Ben's
eyes widened, then he grabbed Bramwell's arm as the boy would
have put out the candle. "It's too late for that."
"Ben?" Barnabas asked, having
heard the man's voice. "Where are you?"
Retaining his hold on Bramwell's arm, Ben
moved toward the door. "Up here, Mr. Barnabas.
I've found Master Bramwell."
Bramwell's struggle to free himself increased
as he heard his father's footsteps on the stair coming ever nearer.
"Let me go, Ben," he begged. "I can still
get out of the house-"
"And how ya gonna do that?"
Ben asked. "He's on his way up right now."
Bramwell's eyes grew large as he watched
the door. He wasn't ready to face his father here.
"Please, Ben," he begged softly, but knew it was too
late as his father appeared in the doorway.
"What are you doing here, Bramwell?"
he asked, the single candle throwing shadows on his worried face.
"I-had to come, Father,"
Bramwell told him, swallowing his fear.
"I can't explain it. I simply had to."
"I think you had better try to
explain," Barnabas said. "I have half of the servants
out searching for you. Angelique is very worried."
"I'm sorry," Bramwell apologized,
lowering his head. "I never considered that anyone
would discover that I had left the house."
"You must have known that someone
would come to check on you. Mrs. Burns-or even Angelique.
Or the Countess."
Bramwell lifted his eyes again.
"Does she know?"
"I imagine so. This won't
help matters, Bramwell. If I could understand what you found
so important that you had to leave Collinwood at this hour to
come over here-" He lifted his eyes to the portrait that
hung over the mantle, then turned to look behind him, as if feeling
that he was being watched. He frowned, then returned
his gaze to the portrait again. The scent of jasmine still
clung heavily to this room. Strange that he hadn't noticed
that before. This was the first time he had been in this
room since-he turned again to look a the bed, half expecting to
see Josette's cold, still body laying there.
"Mr. Barnabas?" Ben asked,
worried about his employer's expression. "You all right?"
No, Barnabas wanted to say.
I'm not. He sensed something in this room.
Not anything
evil, simply a presence. But he knew how skittish Ben
could be, and forced himself to answer. "I'm fine,
Ben. But I think Bramwell and I will finish this conversation
at home."
Bramwell looked mutinous for a moment, until
he looked up at the portrait of his mother.
He stood there, his attention caught, as if he were listening
to a voice that no one else
could hear. His face grew calm, almost serene.
"As you wish, Father," he said quietly.
He turned and left the room.
"Stay with him, Ben," Barnabas
ordered the servant. "Make certain he gets back to
Collinwood."
"Aren't you comin', Mr. Barnabas?"
Ben asked.
"In a moment."
"Beggin' your pardon, sir, but you
shouldn't stay here alone."
Barnabas raised his brows. "Bramwell
has evidently spent a great deal of time here
alone, Ben. What makes my staying any different?"
Ben swallowed nervously. "This
room, sir- it gives me the shivers."
Before last night, Barnabas might have dismissed
Ben's words as superstitious nonsense.
But now, it was as if his eyes had been opened to a world about
which he had only just
discovered. "It's only a room, Ben. Go with
Bramwell. I won't be a moment."
"Yessir," Ben said, shuffling
out of the room.
Barnabas looked at the portrait again.
Was it her presence he felt in the room, he wondered. "Are
you here, Josette?" he asked softly. The scent
of jasmine increased,
filling the room with the sweet aroma. Barnabas waited,
but there was no further response.
At last he turned toward the door, closing it behind him.
But the sense of a presence
remained with Barnabas until he had left the house.
Bramwell was in the study, sitting in
one of the chairs by the fire when his father entered the room.
The boy rose quickly to his feet, hands behind his back, to face
Barnabas. "Have you seen Angelique and assured her
that you are well?" Barnabas asked him.
"Yes, sir. And I apologized for
running off the way I did. Ben told me that you are going
to seal the entrance to the secret passageway in my room."
"He has orders to do it tomorrow morning
so not to disturb the household any more than it has been this
evening." Bramwell hung his head at the implication
that he had been responsible for causing that disturbance.
"I'm going to trust you not to use it again this evening."
"I won't, sir," Bramwell assured
him.
Barnabas looked at him for several moments.
"Bramwell, why did you go over to the Old House?"
"You wouldn't understand," the
boy said.
"I might. I might understand
far more than you realize. Tell me, Bramwell."
Bramwell met his gaze for a moment, then
said, "I thought I heard Mother calling me. Saying
that I had to come to her at the Old House."
"Have you often heard her?"
"No. Not away from the Old House,
anyway," Bramwell tried to clarify the denial. "I've
been at the Old House every time I've heard her before.
That's why it was so important that I go there tonight.
I thought that it must have been very important for her to be
able to contact me over here."
"And was it important?"
Barnabas asked, not denying the possiblity that Bramwell's mother
had contacted the boy.
Bramwell frowned. "She said she
hadn't called me. That her power doesn't extend beyond the
walls of the Old House."
"So who did call you to go over there?"
"I don't know, sir."
"How long have you been seeing your
mother at the Old House, Bramwell?"
"Since just after we moved from there.
I spend a lot of time there."
"And is she always with you when you
are there?"
"I can't always see her," Bramwell
told him. "But I can sense her. I feel safe there.
Warm. As if nothing bad can happen to me."
Barnabas had received the same feeling during
those moments at the Old House. "Go on back to your
bed, Bramwell. And will expect you to remain there for the
rest of the night."
"You do believe me, don't you, Father?
I really have seen her."
"We'll discuss it tomorrow," Barnabas
said. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "
And until we do, it would be best if you didn't mention it to
your aunt."
"I won't," Bramwell assured him
quickly, as if just the idea of discussing anything
with the Countess troubled him.
"Good night."
"Good night, Father."
Barnabas went to the fire and was staring
into it, thinking about what his son had told him when he heard
the door open again and Angelique entered the room. She
put her hand in his, let him draw her close. "You're
shivering," she told him, her blue eyes wide as they searched
his face. "What's happened?"
"Did Bramwell tell you where Ben found
him?"
"At the Old House," she said.
"I've known that he spends a great deal of time there,"
she told him. "I didn't see any harm in it. You
know how much he loves that house. I haven't had the heart
to insist he stay away."
"He has another reason for going there,"
Barnabas told her. "The Old House is
haunted."
"Haunted?" Angelique questioned,
her expression suddenly guarded.
"By Josette's spirit. I felt
her presence there myself just this evening."
"You did?" Suddenly she
became aware of the scent of jasmine on his coat. "Did
you see her?"
"No. But she was there."
His eyes searched her face. "You've no reason to be
concerned, my darling. She meant me no harm. I sensed
no malice, no evil. I think she's simply wants to protect
anyone she cares about." He smiled at her. "I
must admit that the very idea of anyone's spirit haunting a place
is something that I never would have believed possible until last
night-" had it really only been twenty four hours since he
had discovered Angelique in the drawing room before the fire,
he wondered. "But now-it's as if a whole new world
has been opened up to me, Angelique. A world that I hope
we can find a way to share." His hands clasped hers
between them.
"I knew about Josette's spirit being
at the Old House, Barnabas," she told him slowly. As
his eyes widened in surprise, she explained, "Because I've
seen her."
"When? And why did you not tell
me this before now?"
Angelique moved away. "It was
only once, Barnabas. The evening we moved out of the Old
House. As we the carriage pulled away, I turned to look
at the house, wondering what was keeping Bramwell's attention,
and she was there, standing on the porch. I didn't say anything
about it at the time because you wouldn't have believed me.
And there hasn't been any time in the last day for me to tell
you very much of anything."
He pulled her back into his arms.
"No, I suppose there hasn't. And I wouldn't have believed
you. I would most probably have been surprised that you
believed in such superstitious nonsense."
"But now you don't think it nonsense?"
"No. Is there some way that we
could contact Josette? Find out exactly why she's still
at the Old House? Find out if she can help us discover who
is trying to harm Bramwell?"
"That might not be a good idea, Barnabas.
Calling the dead is a dangerous business.
It's not a parlour game to be played by amatuers."
"I'm aware of that. But if we
can help Bramwell-Do you know why he went out tonight?"
"No. He simply told me that he'd
gone over there to think, that the Countess' visit
upset him."
"He told me that he heard his mother
calling to him, telling him to come to her. But
when he got there, she told him that she hadn't sent for him,
that she couldn't have, since
her power apparently doesn't reach this far."
"She's-confined to the Old House?"
"That's what she told Bramwell.
So now we have to discover who sent Bramwell to the Old House."
He paced the room. "We can't risk it until the Countess
returns to Martinique. We must be very careful that she
doesn't discover what's happening."
"That won't be easy, Barnabas.
The Countess may not appear to be very knowledgeable
about such things, but she is. Living on the island tends
to make one so."
"If she were to discover that Josette's
spirit is still at the Old House-"
"She would see it as further proof
that I somehow caused Josette's death. And we can't let
her know that Josette's spirit is not at rest is because she-"
"Took her own life," Barnabas
finished. "It's easier for me to say it now.
I don't know why. But I think we must find out what is going
on, Angelique. And find some way to give Josette some peace."
"Yes." She looked up at
him. "Let's go to bed. It's late, and Rebecca
will no doubt want my attention very soon."
Barnabas nodded absently. "Of
course." He extinguished the candles and followed her
from the room. As they climbed the stairs, Barnabas said,
"At least now we know that when Bramwell wished he were with
his mother last night, he didn't mean that he wished he were dead.
Only that he wished he were at the Old House where he felt safe."
"We'll just have to make him feel just
as safe over here, with us," Angelique said.
Neither of them heard the door below the
stairs open, or saw the figure who stood there, listening as they
crossed the landing. Once they were out of hearing, Natalie
du Pres came into the foyer, her eyes on the landing, a speculative
gleam in them. There was something over at the Old House,
something that she thought she might find of great interest.
Pulling her cloak around her, she started toward the door, only
to stop as a voice spoke behind her.
"Going out at such a late hour, Countess?"
She turned to find Barnabas on the landing.
"Barnabas. I-was unable to sleep. All of the
uproar over Bramwell's running away has left me- unsettled.
I thought I would take
a walk-" she explained as he came down the stairs.
"It is easy to become lost on the estate
if you are unfamiliar with it," Barnabas told her.
"Especially at night. I would hate to have to send
someone out to look for you. Why don't I have Cook prepare
a toddy for you? That's what I was about to do."
The Countess hid her anger at being forced
to change her plans behind a smile. "An
excellent suggestion, Barnabas. You will have someone
bring it to my room, if you don't
mind?"
"Of course," he said, bowing slightly.
"I will deliver it myself." He didn't say that
he was entirely motiviated by the desire to make sure that she
would be in her room.
"Such gallantry," the Countess
said. "Surely as master of such a great house, you
could
find a servant for such a mundane task."
"I would consider it an honor.
Besides, most of the servants have already retired to
their beds. I shall bring your toddy up as soon as it
is ready."
Her lips thinned in anger, but the Countess
had no choice but to climb the stairs, her
back stiffly erect, under Barnabas' watchful eye. "I
shall be waiting," she told him.
Barnabas watched her across the landing,
then went to turn the lock on the front doors and throw
the bolt. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm
down. The disaster had
been narrowly averted for now. He wasn't certain why he
had decided to come back downstairs instead of accompanying Angelique
to their room. But something had warned him-some extra sense,
perhaps, heightened now. He and Angelique would have to
be much more careful where they spoke, if the Countess was determined
to eavesdrop on private conversations.
Sighing, he turned toward the kitchen. Cook
wasn't going to like being gotten out of her
bed to prepare a toddy for the Countess du Pres.