A Loving Spirit (12 page)

Then they went into Lady Paige's drawing room, a small space crowded with figurines, paintings, and embroidered cushions—and one extraordinary "tulip of fashion."

Cassie giggled behind her hand to think that the young man standing by the window could be the joy of any young lady's eye. He was tall, true, and had pleasing, regular features. But his golden hair was pomaded to such a high gloss that it glowed, his cravat was so elaborately tied that it resembled nothing so much as a wedding cake, and his yellow coat was nearly blinding.

Cassie could not help but glance at Phillip, and compare his plain, serviceable garments and carelessly long hair to the yellow coat and embroidered orange waistcoat It was all too obvious which man came out with the advantage.

But Lady Paige beamed at her nephew as if he were a veritable Apollo come to earth. "Lord Royce, Miss Richards, may I present my nephew, Mr. Vickery?"

Mr. Vickery moved across the crowded room with a stylish languor, and took Cassie's hand in his. As he raised it to his lips, his many rings cut into Cassie's skin.

"Charmed, I'm sure," he said in a low, drawling voice. "Aunt Lydia, you never told me that there were hidden charms in this pokey old village. I would have come to visit an age ago."

Lady Paige tittered as if he had uttered a great witticism. "Oh, Neville! How you do tease."

Mr. Vickery gave Cassie what he obviously considered a soulful, Byronic look. "I am completely serious. You never said an angel resided in this remote corner."

Laughter threatened to bubble up to Cassie's lips again, and she feared that if she let even another giggle escape she would not be able to stop. Did ladies in London really
enjoy
this sort of ridiculous flattery?

It was amusing, to be sure, but she found that she much preferred Phillip's sensible conversation.

"How very kind you are, Mr. Vickery," she said, carefully extracting her hand from his grasp.

"It is not kindness at all, Miss Richards—merely the truth. Please, let me escort you into the dining room. I am so eager to hear what you think of this bleak corner of the world." Without even waiting for her leave, he took her arm and tugged her out of the room, brushing past Lord Royce and his aunt. "I do hope your cook has not burned the soup today, Aunt Lydia," was his only careless comment to her, tossed back over his shoulder.

"Oh, yes! I mean, no," Lady Paige cried, obviously distressed. "I am sure she has not, after your unhappiness with the fish yesterday, Neville."

"Quite," Mr. Vickery said curtly. He leaned closer to Cassie and murmured, "It is so very difficult here to maintain proper standards, Miss Richards. Not at all like my house in London. You must allow me to tell you all about it..."

Cassie only listened with half an ear as Mr. Vickery, the joy of every young lady's eye, went on about his house in London and all his highborn friends. She watched as Lord Royce seated the slighted Lady Paige in her chair at the head of the table and conversed with her about various village doings. Slowly, the hurt look in her eyes over her nephew's carelessness faded, and a new sparkle took its place. Lord Royce nodded understandingly at her words and smiled.

All traces of the impatient, unsocial scholar vanished. He was all patience and kindness—just as he always was with his mother and Aunt Chat and even Antoinette, who most people treated as a mere curiosity.

As hard as he tried to hide it, Lord Royce was a very kind and thoughtful man. Not even his shabby coats could hide that, just as Mr. Vickery's yellow satin could not hide his shallowness.

Cassie smiled at the revelation, but unfortunately that small lifting of her lips encouraged Mr. Vickery to even greater heights of bragging about his barouche.

* * *

Phillip half listened to Lady Paige as he watched Mr. Vickery charming Miss Richards.

A sour, unaccustomed pang ached somewhere in his stomach as he looked at the fashionable man leaning close to her, speaking into her ear. She gave a small, almost intimate smile at whatever it was he was saying.

Mr. Vickery must be a riveting conversationalist, Phillip thought, as well as a sparkling dresser. His yellow coat, though a bilious color, was perfectly cut, his linen impeccably free of ink stains. No doubt he could converse on many subjects other than the ancient Greeks. How could a lady help but be impressed with him?

Phillip ruefully inspected the frayed cuff of his coat. Perhaps, just perhaps, he should visit the tailor and have some new ones made up. Not in yellow, to be sure, but maybe a sensible blue or brown. What would Miss Richards think of him then?

Phillip brusquely dismissed that thought just as it flitted through his mind. He did not have time for such frivolities! His coats had been good enough for months.

But still, a small voice whispered at the back of his mind, if a new coat could make her smile at him as she was smiling now, it could be worth it.

It could be worth it, indeed.

* * *

"How did you find my old friend Lady Paige and her nephew?" Lady Royce asked over supper that night at Royce Castle. "Is she enjoying living in the village? Did she accept the invitation to the masked ball?"

"She was very well, Mother, and of course she accepted the invitation," answered Phillip. "Everyone we invited accepted, did they not, Miss Richards?"

"Oh, yes," Cassie said, happy for the excuse to abandon her fillet of sole. The fish was excellent, but after an unusually large luncheon at Lady Paige's house, and tea and cakes with the Lewishams, she was quite stuffed. "All the people we met were so very kind! I had a wonderful day." And she had. Even Mr. Vickery, in his own way, had been very amusing. Cassie laughed, recalling his attempts at flirtation over luncheon.

Lady Royce beamed. "Yes, it is a very nice neighborhood. We should have everyone to the castle more often, should we not, Phillip?"

He looked at his mother suspiciously, as if he thought she might be up to something. "Of course, Mother."

Lady Royce nodded. "And did you get to go to Mrs. Brown's shop, my dear Miss Richards? She does such lovely work. I really think she could go to London."

"She did have some very pretty samples," Cassie agreed. "I ordered a couple of gowns as well as my costume."

"Did you decide on something, then, Cassie?" Antoinette asked.

"I am going to be a shepherdess," Cassie answered. "Have
you
decided on something?"

Antoinette shook her head. "I told you. It is a surprise."

"I am going to be Queen Elizabeth," Lady Royce offered. "And Chat will be Eleanor of Aquitaine. But Phillip still will not tell me what his costume is to be."

Phillip smiled. "That is because I do not know yet. I would rather not wear a costume at all."

"Of course you must wear a costume! That is the fun of it." Lady Royce sighed happily. "Oh, I
am
looking forward to this so very much!"

Chapter 14

"Tell me, Louisa, why do you want to find Lady Lettice so much? I mean, why her in particular?" Cassie asked. They were walking along the shore toward the tunnels, on their way to Antoinette's ceremony. Antoinette, Chat, and Lady Royce hurried ahead, carrying Antoinette's books, herbs, and candles, while Lord Royce trailed far behind.

He did not even appear to see Louisa at all, but Cassie thought it seemed quite normal to be in her company now. It could have been any evening stroll, really, if only her companion did not float above the sand rather than walk on it.

Louisa paused for a moment, then answered, "We want to know where they go."

"Where they go?"

"The ghosts who only stay for a brief while, and the people who die and do not become ghosts at all, like my husband. Sir Belvedere and I are the only ones who have stayed here so long, and we often wonder why. We just thought Lady Lettice might be the most likely to return, since she was here a rather long time as well."

Cassie nodded. She, too, would like to know where they had all gone. Perhaps then she would know about her parents.

Louisa paused and turned her head to look out at the moonlit sea. The hood of her cloak hid her face. "I just want to
know,"
she whispered.

Cassie reached out to squeeze her hand, but felt only cool air. "If anyone can find out, it is Antoinette."

"Yes. Of course," said Louisa, her voice cheerful in a rather determined way. Then she looked ahead and gave a little, glowing wave. "Look! There is Sir Belvedere, waiting at the tunnel." She floated away, leaving Cassie standing alone on the shore.

She shivered a bit and pulled her red cloak closer about her. She
did
want to know, just as much as Louisa did. If she could just know that her parents were at peace, that they were together again...

But there was also a part of her that didn't really want to know at all. A very tiny part that was afraid.

Phillip came up beside her and gently touched her arm. "Having second thoughts?" he said softly.

Cassie looked up at him. The moonlight gave a silvery cast to his handsome face, making him look even more beautiful and rather otherworldly. Everything seemed cast in unreality tonight, even this solid, logical man.

She drew herself up to her full height, only to find that she still barely came to his shoulder. "Of course not," she said stoutly. "Are you? Oh, no,
you
would not be. You think nothing is going to happen tonight."

"I never said that. I simply do not
know
what is going to happen."

He looked to the tunnels, where the others had already gone in. The light of their lanterns and candies sent a golden wash out of the entrance onto the rocks and sand.

Cassie studied him carefully. Did he feel it, too, then? This sense that tonight was—special.

He smiled down at her and held out his arm. "Shall we, then?"

She nodded and slipped her hand onto the sleeve of his greatcoat, grateful for its warm solidity beneath her touch. And she knew then that, no matter what happened, she would be safe with him at her side.

* * *

"Oh, spirits of the night, of the sea and air! Hear my summons. Come to me!"

Antoinette's voice, deep and resonant, echoed in the dim, shallow tunnel. They had put out their lanterns, and the smoke from the circle of candles stung Cassie's eyes. She rubbed them before opening them again to look around her.

Antoinette stood in the middle of the circle of lights, her eyes half-closed, her mother's book open at her feet. She swayed slightly as she murmured, her green robe shimmering in the light. The others were gathered in a ragged oval outside the lights, holding hands and watching Antoinette with wide eyes.

There was a palpable air of tension and expectation in the still, cold air. No one knew what was going to happen next, and everyone looked about with nervous, darting little glances before looking at Antoinette again.

Cassie saw Aunt Chat look toward the tunnel entrance, her expression full of longing. Her hand tugged slightly in Cassie's grasp, but Cassie gave it a reassuring squeeze and she turned back to the group.

Phillip's hand lay still and warm in Cassie's other hand, his palm slightly rough against her skin. He, too, watched Antoinette closely, with a small, puzzled frown on his face. He looked as if he was listening to a rather fascinating lecture at Oxford.

Cassie wished she could be as calm as he was, as clinical. Her stomach felt fluttery and tight, and her hands were cold. As Antoinette's voice became louder, her words faster, Cassie longed to throw herself into Phillip's arms and shout out for her to stop.

She had even moved a step closer to him, tugging Aunt Chat with her, when a loud explosion echoed from the back of the tunnel. Bright blue-green light flashed, followed by a shower of sparks.

Cassie screamed and really did fall into Phillip's arms. He held her tightly against him, and she buried her face in the starchy, clean scent of his shirtfront.

But she couldn't help peeking back at the tunnel.

Antoinette ceased her chanting, and stared, mouth agape, at the darkness beyond the candles. Chat and Lady Royce clung to each other, also staring. Chat, unflappable Aunt Chat, trembled under her Indian print shawl. Louisa and Sir Belvedere, hovering near the entrance, watched with avid eyes.