My Lord Ghost

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

At the sound of a carriage, I moved to the window. I could see enough to start at the woman descending from the vehicle.

Rachel! My heart beat with her name. My Rachel had returned… But no… This woman had gleaming reddish-brown hair, not my Rachel’s silky blonde. And she seemed to be shorter, more slender and delicate. Rachel had lovely curves. This woman was more… petite. Beautiful, if one were interested. I wasn’t. I felt nothing.

I wondered how long she would stay. Given the look of her, I’d say about a day and then she’d be gone, screaming or shaking with fright like the rest of them.

And if she wasn’t? Then I’d have to do something, I supposed. I couldn’t have a stranger living here. I wouldn’t be able to stand it.

I followed Sally down from the coach and stretched toward the sky. Oh my goodness, but it felt good to be out of that stifling carriage! I hated traveling and we’d been on the road for four days now.

Well, I thought, looking about myself, it was some consolation that Marshfield was not as run-down as I had feared. The drive had looked positively lovely until one looked more closely. Then I noticed that while the grass was well-trimmed, the trees lining the drive hadn’t seen a day’s care for at least a season, if not two. A flock of sheep in a nearby pasture accounted for the trimmed lawn. But clearly, whoever was in charge of the grounds wasn’t doing their job. I supposed it was up to me to see to that now.

There was also a distinct lack of activity coming from the stables. When we’d stopped at my father’s estate at Pemberton, a groom had taken charge of the horses the moment we’d pulled up to the house. Here, there was no one. The grand door to the house also remained disturbingly closed, as if our approach had not only been unexpected but hadn’t even been witnessed by anyone.

I turned to Sally. “My father did say that he had written to inform the staff that I was coming, didn’t he?”

Sally’s eyes widened. “I wouldn’t know, Miss. It does seem awfully quiet.”

“Shall I knock?” the driver asked, despite the fact that he was standing at the horses’ heads where a groom should have been.

“No. That’s all right, Samuel. I’ll do so,” I said going to the door. I reached up and lifted the enormous metal ring clenched between lion’s teeth and let it fall. The sound it produced was rather small and insignificant, considering the size of the door. It was of a thick, solid wood, which made me worry that no one would hear the knock.

I started to lift the ring again when the door slowly swung open, and a wizened old man was revealed. His sparse, gray hair was combed meticulously back over his scalp, and large, pale blue eyes widened in surprise.

“Yes? May I help ye?” he asked, his broad Yorkshire accent coarsened further by a voice rough and gravelly with age.

“I am Aglaia Grace, Lord Pemberton-Howe’s daughter,” I said. “I believe I’m expected?”

“Ah!” the man nodded then switched the direction of his head and seemed to shake it sadly. He stepped back reluctantly so I could enter. “Didn’t know when ye’d be coming.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” I said, stepping into the house. “I thought my father had written.”

“Had,” the man agreed. “I just didn’t remember when...” His words trailed off, as a large, robust woman hustled toward us.

“Och! You must be Miss Grace. Welcome. Welcome to Marshfield,” she said. There was no accompanying smile on her face. In fact, she looked positively upset at our arrival, but I took her words in a kindly fashion nonetheless.

“Thank you,” I answered.

“I’m Mrs. Barker, the housekeeper. Mr. Barker is the butler,” she said, nodding toward the man at the door.

“I’m very happy to meet you both. My maid, Sally,” I said, and turned to see Sally still hovering near the door like a small, terrified mouse, our portmanteaux in either hand. It seemed as if she wasn’t certain she wanted to enter the house, but at a look from me, she bobbed the Barkers a curtsey and came in.

“I’ll show ye to yer room,” Mrs. Barker said and turned toward the right side of the very grand stair that swooped down from either side of a wall filled with all sorts of medieval weapons. It didn’t exactly present a welcoming entrance, more of a show of strength and power instead.

Sally stayed close as we started up the stairs after Mrs. Barker, but then quickly moved back a step with an apology when she nearly stepped on the hem of my dress. She had lost all her color.

“That’s certainly impressive,” I said, looking over the array of weapons. “Are they real or just decoration?”

“Oh, they’re real all right,” Mrs. Barker said. “Been used by the Bolingbrooks since the time of William the Conqueror.” She paused. “Not recently, naturally.”

“Naturally,” I agreed, giving the woman a smile. I turned back and tried to give Sally a reassuring look, but the poor girl kept eyeing the weapons even as we continued up the stairs.

“Here ye are,” Mrs. Barker said, opening the third door on the left down the hall.

The room was beautiful, soothing after the harshness of the entry hall. The walls were covered in a faded rose silk with matching curtains and counterpane on the bed, along with a number of white lace pillows. It was a very delicate, feminine-looking room.

“Oh, how pretty,” Sally said on a sigh of relief.

Mrs. Barker nodded. “’Twas the mistress’ chamber, God rest her soul. The master’s chamber is there,” she said, nodding toward a door to the left. “Yer dressin’ room is on t’other side and there’s a small closet for yer maid.” She pointed toward a door hidden in the corner of the room.

“Thank you, it’s very lovely,” I said, watching Sally put our cases down beside the door to the dressing room.

The driver came in with my trunk.

“We don’t keep fancy hours here,” Mrs. Barker continued. “Dinner’s at five.”

I moved to the window. It looked out over the back of the house where there were formal gardens ending abruptly at a stone wall. The forest beyond seemed to be doing its best to encroach on the tamed landscape, reaching over the wall. In some places, trees had knocked it over altogether, leaving a pile of stones on the ground. They’d been there for so long, they were green with moss.

“’Twas beautiful when the mistress was alive,” Mrs. Barker said, taking a peek out the window over my shoulder. “She kept it just as his lordship had liked it, even after he passed. The boys never cared, but her ladyship was particular about it. Hated to let things go, she did.”

“It is a shame,” I agreed. “Is there no gardener to take care of it?”

“Goodness, no! No one here but Mr. Barker and meself,” the older woman answered.

“The two of you take care of this enormous house all by yourselves?” I asked, shocked. “Oh, but there must be dailies who come in, then?”

The woman shook her head. “We’ve closed down most of it. But I hired a daily when I learned you were comin’, so you won’t be wanting.” She moved toward the door, but I could have sworn I heard her say under her breath, “We’ll see how long this one lasts.”

“Dinner at five, Miss,” Mrs. Barker said with finality, before closing the door behind her.

Sally gave an exaggerated shiver. “Oh, Miss, I don’t know about this.”

I just laughed at her theatrics. “What don’t you know?”

“This place. It gives me the willies. All those swords and such. And why would there only be two old retainers left to take care of a house this large?”

I shrugged. “I suppose since no one’s lived here for so long, they didn’t feel the need to have more than that. We won’t be here long, Sally, don’t worry.”

“Have you figured out how you’ll convince your father to allow you to return?” she asked hopefully.

“No,” I admitted, “but I’ll think of something. It’s entirely unfair to have been sent away just because I introduced myself to the wrong person.”

Sally just shook her head and turned to unpack my things into the wardrobe. “You can’t do so in London, Miss,” she said. “I can’t imagine what it was like living in Greece, but things are different in London.”

“Athens is a very beautiful city... If only we had lived there instead of at the excavation site. But we rarely went into the city.”

“Then it’s not your fault you didn’t know how to go on,” Sally said, agreeing with what I had been saying for the past few years.

“I can’t help it if I’m friendly.”

Sally gave a little giggle as she continued to unpack, settling down with the routine of commonplace chores. “I don’t understand why your father sent you here, instead of to his estate.”

“It was farther away,” I said. It was the only explanation I could come up with. “From Pemberton, I still could have easily returned to London if I’d wanted.”

The fact that my father had sent me away at all was still infuriating. I just didn’t understand what he expected. He’d said that he wanted me to mature before my debut, but how he thought that would happen by sending me to the back of beyond I just did not understand.

“Well, my father will be very pleased. I’m certain I couldn’t possibly get into any trouble here. There isn’t anyone appropriate—or otherwise—to befriend.”

I sat down on one of the pretty chairs in front of the empty fireplace.

“Oh, now, Miss Laia, I’m sure you’ll be just fine,” Sally said with a giggle.

“This house had better have a good library.”