A Lady in Disguise (28 page)

Reluctantly, Lillian began to walk on. “But aren’t you tired, Father? It’s a long way here from Paulina’s. Wouldn’t you rather rest?”

“Rest? Not a bit of it. I rode on that horse I bought just before you left me. Best purchase I ever made! A gait as easy as a feather bed. I’m not at all tired. Besides, I must be the one to find her. Just imagine it. That’s what I call romance!”

When Lillian and Mr. Canfield reached the castle, the servants were milling about with apparently no very clear idea of how to begin searching for Paulina. Even Becksnaff seemed at a loss. Lillian, who had always respected her father for his acumen, now saw him as a leader of men.

“All right now,” he said, swelling his chest so his voice reached even the ears of a group of gossiping, giggling maids. “A lovely lady, known to you all, is somewhere in this ruin. She may be hurt or in a faint or otherwise unable to hear us calling or to respond. So we’ve got to search every inch! Now, we’re going to need more light. You lot, over there, go back to the house and gather up every candle or lantern you can lay hands on. Torches, even. Meanwhile, the rest of us’ll split into groups. I don’t want anybody wandering around alone; the last thing we need is to look for somebody else!” That raised a chuckle. “Lastly, I want to say that to whoever finds Lady Pritchard I will with my own hands give ‘em fifty guineas.” That raised a cheer.

* * * *

A little while later, Lillian reflected that it was not so much her father’s golden promises that had put heart into the workers as his very presence. He seemed to be everywhere, urging laggards on to greater efforts, restraining the overeager from charging off alone, and encouraging the weary.

“She just doesn’t seem to be anywhere. It’s as though she turned into mist and blew away.”

“I don’t understand it myself,” Lillian said, thrusting her hands into the pocket of her cloak. The book Lady Genevieve had given her knocked against her knuckles. “But you’ll find her.”

Though she’d had little time to consider what having Paulina Pritchard as a stepmama would be like, Lillian decided at that moment that if such a marriage would make her father happy, she would support it fully. Even such a sacrifice would be better than looking any more at her father’s slumping shoulders.

When the master of Mottisbury Castle came, she ran to him. “Oh, Thorpe! We can’t find her anywhere!”

He closed his warm hand over hers where it clutched his sleeve. “What’s all this? Becksnaff wakes me and sounds as if he’s lost his mind, and now.. .” His eyes reflected the torches’ leaping flames as he looked about the inner bailey.

“Whatever Becksnaff said is true, I’m afraid. Paulina and I went into the castle. Addy came and I had to take her back to her room. When I returned, Paulina was gone.”

“You
went in the castle with Paulina. Of her, I can believe such bubble tricks, but of you? Why did you do it?”

“I. ..” Lillian found she could no more tell the truth to Thorpe than to her father. How did one tell a man that some woman believed a night with a ghost would win her him as a husband? Lamely, she said, “Lady Genevieve said it would be permissible.”

He nodded. “I should have discerned her hand in this. She hasn’t tried to order my life for a month and a half at least.” Thorpe patted Lillian’s hand. “I shall question Grandmother first. If she cannot—or will not—tell me where Lady Pritchard is, there are places in the castle even Becksnaff knows nothing of. Perhaps somehow Lady Pritchard stumbled onto one of these secret passages.”

“What’s that you say?” Mr. Canfield crossed the bailey to stand, fists on hips, in front of Thorpe and Lillian. Realizing she still grasped Thorpe’s arm, she let her fingers slide from beneath his. Yet, he did not release her hand, but re-entwined his fingers with hers. A warm tide of emotion ran right up her arm into her heart.

“I beg your pardon,” Thorpe said, “but have I met you?”

“I’m Jacob Canfield, this young lady’s father, and the betrothed of Baroness Pritchard. Are you Mr. Thorpe Everard?”

“That’s right. I’m pleased to meet you at last in reality, Mr. Canfield.”

“Aye. Was that last shipment to your satisfaction, sir?”

“Quite. The silk was particularly fine. I sent some as a gift to a distant aunt, and she couldn’t thank me enough. And I know my housekeeper—have you met Mrs. Becksnaff?—was exceptionally pleased by the spices. The brass statues I—”

“You know each other?” Lillian asked, looking between them in disbelief. Had Thorpe not heard, or failed to comprehend, that her father stood before him?

“Why, yes,” Thorpe answered. “He’s the friend in the City who sends me amusing things from the East. You recall that banyan you wore the first evening you came to us? He sent the silk.” He looked again at Mr. Canfield. “May I offer my congratulations on your betrothal, Mr. Canfield? Lady Pritchard is a fine woman.”

“I think so. Now, you were saying something about secret passages?”

“Yes. The castle is riddled with them, some of which I don’t even know of. Most, however, were shown to me by my father, as places of refuge in time of trouble.”

“Ah, Luddites,” Mr. Canfield said, nodding sagely.

“Something like that. I will go and speak to my grandmother and then join you.”

“What’d you want to do that for? Stands to reason a sweet old lady wouldn’t know anything about this matter . .. unless you’re thinking she might know more about this castle than you do.”

“No. But she may know more about Lady Pritchard’s sudden disappearance.”

Mr. Canfield’s brow wrinkled in puzzlement. Thorpe gave Lillian’s fingers a squeeze before letting them go. As he turned and walked away, Mr. Canfield stooped and picked something up from the grass.

“Hoy, Everard!” he said, sprinting forward. Lillian held out her hand to restrain him, for she’d seen the outline of a certain book in her father’s hand, but it was too late. Mr. Canfield was already handing it over to Thorpe. Hoping against hope, Lillian put her hand to her cloak pocket. The book.
Diverse Hauntings,
was gone.

She sat down on the steps of the curtain wall to await Thorpe’s return. When he came back, his strides were quick. Though he stopped quite close to her, he did not seem to notice she was near. He said something which she could not at first make out. Rising, Lillian came closer to him, slipping her hand into his once again. It felt entirely natural to do it.

“What
are
you saying?” she asked when he looked down at her.

Thorpe cleared his throat. “When I’m angry—” he began. “My father once told me that it’s easier to be calm if you have something special to say to yourself. It’s rather like counting to ten until you feel better.”

“Oh, do you do that too?”

“I beg your pardon?” Thorpe was looking at her steadily now, as if he’d never seen her before.

Lillian smiled and said rapidly, “ ‘Who shall ascend into the hill of the Lord? or who shall stand in his holy place? He that hath clean hands, and a pure heart; who hath not lifted up his soul unto vanity, nor sworn deceitfully.’ Sometimes I have to say it three or four times. My governess made me write it out again and again I’m afraid she left me anyway. But I found myself repeating it often while I was at school. I’ve a simply dreadful temper.”

“I’ve never seen evidence of it.”

Lillian blushed by firelight. “Then you can see how well it works. I’ve been saying it rather a lot lately.”

“Mine goes, ‘Surely every man walketh in a vain show: surely they are disquieted in vain: he heapeth up riches, and knoweth not who shall gather them.’ My father always said that, when Grandmother made him angry.” He frowned as if remembering. “She declares she knows nothing about Paulina’s disappearance. I may have let her see that I didn’t believe her.”

“I believe her. She may have wanted to frighten Paulina away from you—”

“Yes, she confessed that.” He tossed something onto the step. The blue-backed book absorbed the light. “She told me everything. Even about the so-called curse. I’m glad to hear you didn’t believe in that.” Lillian almost admitted that she did, having been convinced by her own responses to him, but bit the words back in time. “I can’t understand, though, how you—as sane as you are—allowed Paulina to come out here.”

So, Lillian thought. Grandmother has not confessed quite everything. “I was persuaded against my better judgment. Thorpe, didn’t you hear what—”

“Listen here, Everard,” Mr. Canfield said, approaching.

“Yes, sir?”

“This castle of yours is more full of passages than a warren of ambitious rabbits! I pressed on those bricks like you told me and damn me if there ain’t another two halls going off into the dark! Those likely lads of yours are running down ‘em now. But I tell you straight. I’ll have her out of there if I must pull it down brick by brick!”

“If it comes to that, I’ll help you gladly, Mr. Canfield. Lillian, go back to the house and rest. God knows how long tonight we’ll be at this. It must be near two o’clock already.” He peered at the sky.

Lillian watched the two men who were dearest to her in the world walk off together. Rather than obey Thorpe, she sat again on the stairs, grateful for the thickness of her cloak. All the warmth of the earth and sun seemed but dim legends from a time before the present Ice Age.

She took up the book. By the light of the torch beside her, she began to read. The accounts of hauntings were as dry as Newton’s
Principia Mathematica.
Perhaps she was too tired to understand, but she could not determine whether the reverend gentleman’s interest lay in proving or in disproving the veracity of the tales. Soon, her head began to nod and droop.

Lillian awoke with a start to find her head pillowed on something very warm that moved slightly, up and down. Looking up with bleared eyes, she saw Thorpe, no more awake than herself. “I only closed my eyes a moment,” she said defensively and then noticed that there was light in the sky.

“Me, too,” he said, yawning. Then he sobered. “We haven’t found her yet, Lillian. There are passages below the castle where I am out of all knowledge. Places older than my father knew of, possibly going back to the earliest foundations of the castle. We found ... symbols.”

Lillian shivered, and his arm tightened. She noticed that his coat was off, and it was the warmth of his shirt-clad body that was slowly seeping into her. His discarded coat lay beside him, coated with wax and reeking of oil. She lifted her eyes to his and, suddenly, shyness covered her with confusion. His smile held infinite tenderness as he held her more closely.

“Lillian . . .” he said. “Ah, my dear.”

She readied herself for his kiss, not caring that it was daylight and all who would could see. The night had been long, and the day was to be full of uncertainty, not least of all concerning his true feelings for her. But a kiss is absolved of all doubts for the time it lasts. She said his name and saw his eyes close as their lips came together.

“Mr. Everard, sir!” someone called in the eternal shade beneath the gateway.

Thorpe turned away from her, trying to see. “Who is it?”

“It’s me, sir. Jack Price! You better come quick, sir!”

Thorpe leapt up and half ran across the grass, his long legs scissoring. Lillian scurried along behind. “What is it?” she panted on reaching the gate. “Have you found her?”

Day, from which nothing can hide, showed the gamekeeper supporting a woman suddenly given in to the weight of her years. Lady Genevieve’s proud face was torn and ravaged by terrible anxiety. “She’s gone, Thorpe! She’s gone!”

Thorpe put his arm about his grandmother’s waist. Lady Genevieve slumped against him. Gently, he said, “We know. We’ve been looking all night. We’ll find her. I promise.”

Lady Genevieve gave him a look of scorn that had almost all the fire of which she was capable. “Not that ridiculous baroness! Addy. Addy’s gone.”

“How do you know she’s gone?” Thorpe demanded. His face, frozen by shock, might have represented some sculptor’s unattainable ideal. “She runs stark wild a good half the time.”

“No. She’s gone. We were to have breakfast this morning. Addy never forgets me. When she did not come down, I sent for her, thinking she might be unwell or sleeping late. Burrows said the child’s bed was cold. She could not have been in it for hours, not since Lillian returned Addy there late last night.”

“Price,” Thorpe said, looking over Lady Genevieve’s head. “Do you think your children might know .. . ?”

“I’ll go an’ ask the runts this next minute, sir.” And the gamekeeper took off, his angular dog loping at his heels.

“Come to the house!” Thorpe shouted after him.

Down the hill came Mr. Canfield, shaking his head. “If you give up now, my boy,” he said, “those servants of yours won’t shift another step.”

Thorpe, Lillian saw, looked at her father rather blankly, as though he knew neither what the other gentleman referred to nor even who he was. Hastily, she said, “Father, young Addy has apparently disappeared as well as Paulina.”

“What’s that? The little girl gone? What goes on here, Lillian? Fairies?” She could only shake her head in reply. More solemnly, Mr. Canfield said, “Everard, you take who you need to find the child. I’ll carry on looking for Paulina on my own.”

Lillian patted his arm. “Thank you, Father.”

Approaching Lady Genevieve, she took the older woman’s other arm. Lillian met Thorpe’s eyes and was rewarded by a tiny lift at one corner of his mouth, as though his charm was operating independently of his thoughts. Her heart turned over. She tried to encourage them both by saying, “Come, Lady Genevieve, we’ll take you to your room. You’d like a cup of tea, wouldn’t you?”

“You’re a good child. I wish now that I had been kinder to you, but... I thought—”

“Never mind that now,” Lillian said, nodding to Thorpe. Together, they supported the old woman into the house.

Thorpe showed infinite patience and kindness to his grandmother, quite as though he’d never been angry with her in his life. He guided the cup to her lips when her own hands shook too much to lift the porcelain, turning away her teary-eyed thanks with a soothing smile and a light denial of any need for gratitude. Yet Lillian could tell, all the time, that his ear was tuned, not to Lady Genevieve, but to the door, listening for the step of the gamekeeper. When she touched him, handing him a handkerchief soaked in eau de cologne to press against Lady Genevieve’s forehead, Lillian felt that he quivered like a resonating glass under the tension.