One More Haunted Evening Page 11

  Her face twisted up and she started to cry once more.

  “No, no, no,” Garrick soothed. “Don’t cry, my lady, we’ll find it. Not to worry. I’ve always found everything I’ve put my mind to.”

  “Give her your handkerchief,” Quent said, as his had been quite ruined from cleaning Patience’s coin back at the ruins.

  Garrick quickly lifted his handkerchief out to Hope and said, “Chin up. We’ll find it, I’m certain.”

  Panic settled so deeply in Tilly’s chest, she thought she might expire on the spot. It was gone. Her diary was gone. And the only thought that gave her comfort was that perhaps it had been found by a rabid animal that loved the taste of paper and leather.

  The thought that panicked her the most was the one that involved one Mister Sidney Garrick finding it. And reading it.

  She gulped over the lump in her throat.

  “Matilda, you haven’t touched your food,” Father said gruffly, dabbing his mouth with his napkin.

  “Sorry, Father,” she replied, her tone morose. She couldn’t quite help it. She speared a carrot with her fork and brought it to her mouth. It tasted like dirt and it took a great deal of effort to force it down her throat.

  Thankfully, Anna distracted him from Tilly’s poor eating.

  “Might I go to the shore to paint again tomorrow, Uncle Walter?”

  “The shore?” Father grumbled. He, of course, wished that Anna would stick to sketching churches and crosses, if she was going to insist on such a pastime at all, that was.

  “Only for a short time,” she promised, and then added for good measure, “God has provided such beautiful scenery for us to enjoy. I only wish to capture His majesty, Uncle.”

  Father grunted. Tilly wasn’t certain if he was fooled or not by Anna’s plea, but in the end, he rarely refused a plea that involved God. “You were there today, you do not need to return tomorrow.”

  Anna nodded, disappointment splashing across her face. “Of course, Uncle.”

  Then Father threw his napkin to the table and pushed his chair away. “You will help Cook clean up and then to your rooms for devotionals and prayers, yes?”

  All three of them nodded, and then Father quit the room to go and have his own devotionals. Lila and Anna visibly deflated when the door closed, leaving them alone in the small dining room. But Tilly sadly couldn’t share in their relief this evening. She still didn’t know the fate of her diary, and she wouldn’t rest well until she did.

  “Tilly, whatever is the matter with you this evening?” Lila asked, standing to gather the plates.

  Tilly stood, too, eager to get out of there and to their chambers. She couldn’t escape Lila, since they shared a room, but at least she could pretend to sleep. Though sleep was not at all a possibility, seeing as she’d be in a panic until the morning, when she could go out again and search for her beloved diary.

  “Nothing is the matter with me,” she answered her sister. “Just…tired.”

  Anna yawned. “As am I.”

  “You were gone an awfully long time today,” Tilly said, and Lila sent her a covert scowl over Anna’s head.

  Anna cleared her throat and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear without making eye contact with either of her cousins. “Yes, well…it was too beautiful to come inside.”

  “Mm-hm…” Tilly shot a meaningful look back at Lila, who rolled her eyes in a silent plea to leave Anna alone.

  That was the good thing about having a sister. They knew what the other was thinking without ever having to say a word.

  “It was indeed a lovely day,” Lila agreed as she pressed her back against the door that joined the dining room to the small kitchen, and then disappeared to the other side.

  Tilly was about to press Anna further about her day, when a subtle knock came at the door. Though they couldn’t see the front door from the dining room, both girls jerked their heads in that direction.

  “Whoever could that be?” Tilly wondered.

  Lila burst through from the kitchen. “Was that the door?”

  “Indeed,” Anna confirmed.

  They all held silent for a moment.

  “I don’t hear Mrs. Abrams coming,” Tilly said. “Should we answer it ourselves?”

  “Of course not!” Lila brought her hand to her chest. “It could be anyone on the other side.”

  “I’m not afraid,” Anna chimed in, pushing her chair back with a loud scrape as she jumped to her feet.

  “Well, I’m not afraid, either,” Lila scoffed. “I just don’t think three young ladies should be opening the door to strangers after dark.”

  As Anna and Lila continued to argue about answering the door, Tilly snuck from the room to actually open the door. If Father knew she was doing this, she’d be paddled within an inch of her life, but curiosity drove her forward until her hand rested on the brass handle. She took a breath and then flung the door open, prepared for whatever—or whoever—was on the other side. Much to her relief, it was only a messenger boy, not much younger than she.

  “Evening, miss,” he said, tipping his hat. “A message for Miss Matilda.”

  Tilly reached out and took the folded missive from the boy.

  “…From Marisdùn Castle.”

  All the blood seemed to rush right to her toes, leaving her feeling cold and faint. But she told herself she was overreacting. Perhaps Daphne had returned to town and wanted to send word. But then why only to Tilly? Why not to Lila and Anna, too?

  Panic settled in her breast. Or excitement. Anticipation. Whatever it was, she liked it and hated it all at the same time.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “God be with you.”

  She shut the door on the boy as he walked away, and then slumped against the cool wood, clutching the letter to her breast.

  “Tilly?” Lila said, coming out of the dining room, Anna on her heels.

  “What is going on down there?” Father bellowed before Tilly could come up with an excuse for Lila.

  “Nothing, Father,” Tilly called up, praying he couldn’t detect the shakiness of her voice. “All is well.”

  “Then I expect all of you will be on your way to bed immediately.”

  “Of course, Papa,” Lila put in, her curious gaze focused on Tilly.

  “Goodnight, Uncle!” Anna called, putting an end to the discussion.

  At once the three girls ran back to the dining room and silently finished helping Cook to clean up the dinner, the missive practically burning a hole in Tilly’s pocket the entire time. How on earth would she open it without Lila and Anna knowing about it? She could wait until they were asleep, but something told her it wasn’t going to be that simple.

  Mere minutes later, they climbed the stairs, and Anna joined Lila and Tilly in their bedchamber.

  “Who was it?” Lila demanded as soon as she shut the door behind her.

  Tilly swallowed hard. “Who was what?”

  “Do not play games with us,” Anna said. “We know someone was at the door, not only because we heard his voice, but also because of the strange way you’re acting. Now…out with it.”

  Blast it all, why wasn’t she a better liar? “It’s not any of your business,” she finally said, fingering the letter inside her pocket. “The caller was for me, and that is all you need know.”

  Lila and Anna exchanged curious glances, then looked back to Tilly.

  “What?” Tilly asked, backing into the dresser. “Do you plan to attack me to find the evidence?”

  A smile quirked at the corners of Anna’s lips. “No, of course not,” she said. “But I suspect we all have a little something to share, so why not be honest with one another?”

  Blast. She had a point. Tilly knew Anna had been acting strangely, and furthermore, she needed an ally when it came to Lila. Her sister was going to regret not telling Lord Quentin who she was for all eternity if she chose to hold her silence.

  “Fine,” she finally said. “But you first.”

  Anna
swallowed, looked to Lila, then back to Tilly, and finally said, “All right. If I must. Wait here.”

  Anna left and returned moments later, a sketchbook in her hand. The three of them settled onto the beds, Tilly and Lila on one, Anna on the other, facing them.

  “Here,” she said, handing the book across the divide, her cheeks turning an alarming shade of red.

  Tilly grabbed the book, and promptly opened to the first page. It was a man, dressed in dark clothing and a white cravat, and looking rather handsome.

  “Go to the last page,” Anna quietly urged, so Tilly did.

  It was the same man, on the shore…shirtless. Tilly’s mouth dropped open. “Anna, this is positively scandalous.”

  “Papa will lock you away forever if he finds this,” Lila added.

  Anna reached across the divide and snatched the book back. “Which is why he never will,” she bit out.

  “But who is he?” Tilly persisted.

  “And why was he only partially clothed, Anna?”

  “He was fully clothed,” Anna replied. “Well, mostly.”

  “Explain mostly,” Tilly said slowly.

  “He’d fallen into the sea. He only removed his jacket and waistcoat so they could dry.”

  “Then where is his shirt?” Tilly insisted. “There is clearly no shirt.”

  “His shirt was wet, and a bit revealing, so, I…” Anna resembled a ripe tomato.

  “Drew what you could see?” Tilly added helpfully.

  “Well, you shouldn’t have seen these either,” Anna said, clutching the book to her chest. “And please, don’t tell your father.”

  “Oh, this is the last thing we’d ever show Papa,” Lila assured her.

  “Do you think me horribly wicked?”

  “Of course, not,” Tilly said with a smile. “I think it’s rather grand and bold.”

  “And could see her ruined,” Lila added.

  “Which is why we will never say a word.”

  “Enough about me,” Anna said, setting her sketchbook aside. “What was in that letter, Tilly?”

  Now it was Tilly’s turn to play the role of Tomato. “Erm…well…I may have dropped my diary earlier this evening. Ahem. And someone may have…found it.”

  “So they were writing to tell you they’d found your diary?” Anna’s brow furrowed. “That’s not so scandalous, Tilly. As a matter of fact, it’s rather a boring secret, considering what I’ve just shown you.”

  Blast it all, why hadn’t she just told them that in the first place? They didn’t need to know it had been found by Sidney Garrick, a man who had been flirting outrageously with her. And she with him.

  Lila’s hand landed on her shoulder. “I’m guessing it’s who found the diary that is of import. Mr. Garrick, perhaps?”

  Tilly’s entire body was trembling, but there was nothing for it now. They’d practically guessed what was going on, she might as well tell them the whole story. And she did. She told them everything about her encounters with Sidney Garrick that day. And that he was insisting she go to Marisdùn the next day to retrieve her diary.

  “Oh, how romantic!” Anna giggled.

  “Yes, indeed,” Lila agreed.

  And then the door to their bedchamber flung open to reveal Father in his nightgown—a state of undress none of the girls had ever seen him in—and fire in his eyes. He didn’t say anything, only scowled at them, and for a moment Tilly worried he had overheard their conversation. But then he pointed in the direction of Anna’s room, continuing to hold his silence.

  Anna plucked her sketchbook from beside her, bid them goodnight, and then quietly made her way to her own room.

  That was clearly the end of their conversation, and Tilly couldn’t help but notice the relief on Lila’s face.

  “You know, I am quite exhausted from looking this place over. Between missing girls and earbobs, I have seen more of this castle than I have my own home.”

  Thorn had a point, and while Sidney wasn’t quite ready to go home, he was most definitely ready to go to bed. They’d been searching the bloody castle all night for that blasted girl’s earbob, whilst she sat blubbering like a baby in her room. It was bloody ridiculous. But Sidney knew there would come a time when he’d need Quent to return the favor, and so he bore it like a good friend.

  “If it’s those Mordue children,” Sidney said, stepping towards the hearth, “their governess really ought to teach them not to steal.”

  “I would imagine if they were going to learn that particular lesson,” Thorn started, “they would have already done so by now.”

  Sidney barely heard the last of Thorn’s sentence, for he’d noticed a door in the wall. It was slightly ajar, otherwise it would have gone completely unnoticed. “What is this?”

  “What indeed?” Thorn echoed from behind him. “A secret room?”

  “Looks like it.” Garrick turned to Quent. “Did you know this was here?”

  Quent shook his head. “First I’ve seen of it.”

  “How did you find it?” Thorn pulled it open the rest of the way and squinted into the darkness.

  “It was ajar,” Sidney replied. “I just looked to my left and there it was.” A shiver raced up his spine.

  “Shall we venture in?” Thorn poked his head further into the opening.

  “It’s dark as pitch in there,” Sidney whispered, at once thrilled and terrified. What the devil would they find in there?

  “Perhaps this is where your great-grandmother kept Callie prisoner,” Thorn muttered.

  “No.” Quent shook his head. “She was stuck between worlds or something like that. She says she could see us, we just couldn’t see her.”

  “Well, whatever’s in there—” Thorn pointed to the hidden doorway “—I want to see what it is.”

  “Me too,” Sidney agreed. “I’ll grab a candle. See what there is to be seen.” He stepped into the corridor to retrieve a candle, the blood pounding through his veins. First Miss Tilly, now this. He was finally getting the excitement he’d been longing for—perhaps even more than he’d hoped.

  “After me,” Sidney said as he reentered the room and stalked past his friends to the darkened hole.

  “Looks like the place was crudely carved out long after this wing was built,” Thorn said, glancing at the walls of the passageway.

  “Reformation,” Sidney agreed, holding his candle aloft to see a deep gash in the wall.

  “Oh! A torch!” Quent said as the light from the candle illuminated a sconce on the passage wall.

  “Perfect.” Sidney carefully made his way to the sconce and used his flame to light the torch. Warm light bathed the small passageway, which ended just a few feet away in a dead end.

  The small passage was far from roomy. It was very clearly a priest hole that wasn’t made for living but for hiding for a short period of time. At the end of the hollowed out space was a mound of…something.

  “What is that?” Quent asked.

  “I don’t know,” Thorn said, edging closer to the pile. “What in the world?” He laughed a bit as he picked up an old corset from the pile. “On my word, I have not undressed anyone in this room, not yet.”

  “So you say,” Sidney laughed as he approached the pile of things. “Weapons.” He gently nudged a sword out of his path with his Hessians. “Jewelry.” He plucked a ruby necklace from the floor, and it shimmered in the firelight. It might have been made of paste, but something told Sidney it wasn’t.

  Hundreds of other items were piled on the floor. Clothes that were clearly not from this time period. An amazing amount of jewelry, some merely made of precious metals, some studded with diamonds or emeralds or sapphires. And weaponry. No guns that Sidney could see immediately, but swords and daggers and a club-like weapon that had spikes on the end. That last one sent a terrifying shudder up Sidney’s spine.

  “Why the devil would someone keep clothing, weapons, and jewelry strewn about in this priest hole?” Quent scrubbed a hand down his face.

  �
�Do you think all these things have been stolen over the years by those ghost children?” Sidney wondered, the haunting voices of the Mordue children echoing in his head.

  Quent shook his head. “Mrs. Small said they always return what they take.”

  “She could be mistaken,” Thorn countered.

  Sidney shifted some more things around with the toe of his boot, and caught sight of something familiar gleaming in the semi-darkness. “Damn it all!” He dropped to his knees and retrieved the small cravat pin from the mix. “I thought I’d lost this. Misplaced it somewhere.” He snorted. “Damned little thieves took it.”

  “What is it?” Quent asked.

  “Used to be my father’s.” He shook his head, thumbing the small piece that he’d thought lost forever after last year’s visit to Marisdùn. “Family crest and everything on it.”

  “You had it with you last year?”

  “I must have.” Sidney nodded. “This is my pin, Quent. I’ve had it for nearly two decades.”

  “Let’s find that emerald, shall we?”

  The three of them began to sort the treasure into piles. Weapons – a set of dueling pistols, a dagger with a gem encrusted hilt, enough swords to supply a small regiment, among other odd instruments that Sidney couldn’t exactly identify. An odd assortment of clothing - one ladies’ boot, pantaloons from a bygone era, a collection of cravats, hats and bonnets that could be used as examples of fashion over the last two centuries, various gowns and a mismatched set of gloves. And heaps of jewelry – pendants, bracelets, watch fobs, necklaces, earbobs of all shapes and sizes, though not the one they were looking for.

  “Dear God,” Sidney’s mouth dropped open as he lifted a frightening contraption into the air. “Is this an actual chastity belt?”

  “How the devil did the little thieves steal that?” Quent asked.

  “Very carefully,” Thorn laughed.

  “If you find two more, Braden can give them to our sisters.”

  “That might keep Kilworth at bay,” Sidney said as he went back to searching the collection of stolen possessions.