Theo slept late, lulled by the warmth of the bed and the comfort of another body, and woke suddenly. The bed beside him was empty. His heart clenched, head spinning with panic. Philip was gone.
If there had been any fuss, Theo would have been roused. Philip had slipped out quietly and returned to whatever smuggler's life he lived when he wasn't claiming sanctuary from Theo. Worrying over a brigand was a waste of energy.
Sighing at himself, Theo sat in bed with his hands in his lap. He could see sunlight leaking through the cracks in the shutters. Those would need to be sealed or replaced, as one of the tasks on Mr Crouch's long list of duties, but it was a higher priority to replace the shutters in the guest rooms for what few travellers they received.
As before, there was little to indicate that Philip had ever been in his bed or in the inn, aside from the depression in the mattress and the bright blue velvet ribbon laid on the nightstand.
Theo's customary plain black riband had gone, and there could be no mistake. Cheeks flushing, Theo turned the blue cloth over in his hands. A love token, of a sort. Something to remember Philip by, when he was not near. Theo laid it by his neckcloth and gazed at it while he dressed. It was the only colour in Theo's drab little room, and it shone as bright and deep as the sea on a sunny day.
He wore coat, waistcoat, and breeches over his linen, a plain neckcloth, and cheaply made boots that were beginning to wear through. Last of all, he took up the exquisite blue velvet strip of cloth, and tied it around his hair at the base of his neck.
Never in his life had Theo owned anything of such a vibrant colour. There was no way that Mr Mondy could fail to notice the unfamiliar ribbon, and no way Theo could avoid the attention it would draw.
Securing the bow, Theo made his way downstairs.
"Pfaugh!" Mr Crouch said, loud enough to be audible as Theo made his way down the stairs. "No such thing."
"True as I live and breathe," Mr Mondy insisted.
"What's this?" Theo asked, as he entered the kitchen. The teapot on the centre of the table was still half-full, so he poured himself a cup.
"Ghosts," said Mr Mondy.
Mr Crouch rolled his eyes toward heaven.
"Do you not believe in ghosts, Mr Crouch?" Theo asked, wondering what sort of conversation he had just wandered into.
"Superstitious nonsense," said Mr Crouch. "Can you credit such things? And you a man of science."
"I am a man of science," Theo said, curling his hands around his cup. There was neither sugar nor milk to be had, and would not until they drew more customers to their inn. "And as a chemist I can affirm that there are many phenomena that we have witnessed to exist despite there being no logical explanation for their occurrence. I neither credit nor discredit the possibility of ghosts until I have evidence."
Both of them rolled their eyes toward heaven.
Indignant at their mutual disapproval, Theo sat up straighter and scowled.
"To be sure, I credit the evidence of mine own eyes," said Mr Mondy.
"What's this, then?" Theo said, discarding his indignation in favour of chasing the story. "You've never told me ghost stories before."
"'Twas the Old earl I saw. Jeremiah Kearney."
"Pfaugh," said Mr Crouch.
"I tell you, I saw him! Real as I see you now, but the earl, he shone. Silver and white he was, and he glowed, near as bright as the moon. I saw him, and he saw me, and then he was gone in a puff."
Mr Crouch leaned in across the table. "Master Aylmer did say that we might partake of the brandy within reason."
Bristling, Mr Mondy sputtered. "I tell you I was sober!"
"Aye, and the old earl be haunting our coaching-inn. I hope ye gave him directions back to his home."
"He came to talk to me." Mr Mondy drew himself up proudly.
"Oh, aye, and did he?"
"No." Mr Mondy deflated. "Said not a word. But his eyes! His eyes beseeched me!"
"Pfaugh, you've been reading Hamlet. Here, Horatio," Mr Crouch said, gesturing dismissively at Theo. "You are university educated. You must know how to communicate with ghosts."
"I cannot speak to what passed for the curriculum of Wittenberg," Theo said, lips twitching, "but there's no course on ghost communication at Cambridge."
Mr Mondy pressed his lips together with indignation. "You are making mock of me. It seems clear as to why the old earl appeared to me alone, and not to such jesting sceptics."
Theo coughed a laugh. "Forgive me, Mr Mondy. If you are certain of the proof of your eyes, then I believe you."
"The ghost of the King of Denmark would only speak to his son," said Mr Crouch, unprepared to give over the jest. "You ought to tell the old corpse that his boy is these twenty years dead."
"Whose boy?" Theo asked, confused.
"The earl's boy. Died as a child. Fell down a well, is what I heard."
Theo grimaced. "That's a sorry thing to tell a ghost."
"True, though," said Mr Mondy, pacified now. "Mayhap the ghost of the old earl is walking the earth in search of his son, but the boy's already in heaven."
"Mayhap his brother killed him," Mr Crouch said, curling his lip.
"Whose brother killed whom?" Theo asked.
"The earl's brother. Simeon, such as is now the earl. Story is that he killed his brother and took his title."
"Sensational nonsense," Mr Mondy said, taking up the role of sceptic now that they'd changed topics from ghosts to murder. "I worked at the Glynn estate when Jeremiah Kearney died. He took ill. Died slow of it."
"If he died natural, how is it his ghost is walking the Earth looking for peace?"
Mr Mondy sat back and crossed his arms in annoyance. "He… he's looking for his boy. As we said."
Mr Crouch snorted and got to his feet. "Aye, then you tell him, when he comes again, that his boy is dead, and they found the bones down the old North Monastery well."
Scowling after him, Mr Mondy's grip tightened on his cup.
Theo refilled both their cups halfway with the last of the tea. "I believe you, Mr Mondy."
"Little enough use it is," Mr Mondy said, and shook his head. "What peace can any of us offer to the dead? He was buried on hallowed ground, in the chapel on the estate. If his soul is yet restless on this Earth… There's nothing sorrier than that, I think. That any soul should be denied its eternal rest."
Theo nodded, gazing into his cup. "I suppose that's true, Mr Mondy. And I do hope that our departed Earl of Glynn may find peace. But for the moment, I do believe, we have work and troubles of our own."
"So we do, sir," said Mr Mondy. He swallowed the last of his tea and got to his feet, hesitating at the door. "I've never seen that ribbon before, sir. It's a very striking colour of blue."
"So it is, Mr Mondy," Theo said, not looking up from his tea and hoping that he had not suddenly turned red. "I found it upstairs in a chest and supposed it was my mother's."
"Suppose it must have been, sir," Mr Mondy agreed, and took his leave.
*~*~*
By evening, Theo had forgotten entirely about the matter of the ghost.
He was tidying the front room in order to receive the handful of farmers and villagers who came by after sunset for ale or brandy and a portion of stew.
Mr Blackburn, as was his habit, was the first to arrive. His eye twinkled as he stepped into the cosy front room of the inn, where a fire was burning and a few spare candles were lit. "I hear you have a ghost, Master Aylmer."
"A ghost!" Theo exclaimed. "Where the devil did you hear about that?"
"Oh, it were Master Goffe, the blacksmith, who had word of it."
"And where the devil did he hear it from?" Theo demanded.
"Don't rightly know," said Mr Blackburn. "Is it true it's the ghost of the old earl?"
"I can't say I know what the ghost of a dead earl would want in my inn, Mr Blackburn," Theo said. "Will it be the usual brandy for you?"
"If you would be so kind."
Theo counterfeited a polite smile, and retreated into the kitchen, where Mr Mondy had already brought up a small cask of brandy for them to serve. "Mr Mondy, did you tell anyone about the ghost?"
His manservant paled. "To be sure, sir… I do mean, if you were to see a ghost, I do reckon that you might… might be inclined to recount the event to, say, a pair of listening ears."
Theo sighed. "Who did you tell?"
"Well, Mistress Yates at the dry goods shop was very interested in the account, and of course I recounted it to my Judith," Mr Mondy began.
"Your Judith?" Theo asked, having last heard that this Judith was married.
Mr Mondy squirmed. "Well, my… I mean, I do think of her a bit as my Judith, now that she's a widow, with no man to do for her, you see, and…"
"Not—not now, Mr Mondy, I beg of you. Mr Blackburn is waiting on his brandy and evidently now the entire village intends to harangue me on the topic of the supposed ghost of the dead earl in my inn." Theo sighed, frustrated and in no mood to have the topic detoured into Mr Mondy's personal life. "I have never before known you to be a teller of tales, Mr Mondy."
"Sir," Mr Mondy said, ducking his head and applying himself to the task of pouring and delivering the cup of brandy to Mr Blackburn.
As soon as he had gone, Theo was struck by a wave of guilt. If he had never known Mr Mondy to be a teller of tales, it was because their social spheres had never before crossed. Theo had never had reason to converse with servants and shopkeepers in Cambridge, where Mr Mondy saw to all his errands, and Mr Mondy had no reason to converse with the professors and students with whom Theo spent all his time. His manservant had served him faithfully for years, with infinite patience and a gentle temperament.
The guilt worsened as Theo returned to the main room to find it already half full of locals, all of whom were interested in discussing the appearance of the ghost and glad to pay for ale and brandy as they did so. It was busier than the inn had been all week, and within an hour the main room was packed and they had run out of stew and bread.
Theo filled glasses and took money as rapidly as he could, finding it deeply strange that the villagers treated him as a figure of authority. He was no longer the boy Theo they had known, but had become Master Theo the Innkeeper, who controlled the flow of ale, brandy, and ghosts.
"No, Mr Goffe," said Theo, as he poured, "I did not myself witness the appearance of the ghost, and I have no inkling whatsoever as to what in heaven's name Jeremiah Kearney—God rest his soul—would want in my inn."
"Perhaps the old earl was carrying out an affair at the inn, before he died," Mr Goffe theorised, leaning in and looking from side to side as though he were sharing a great secret. "And he's come back to meet his paramour."
Theo set down the mug of ale a little too sharply. "An affair with whom, Mr Goffe, do you suppose? My mother?"
Mr Goffe blanched and cleared his throat. "Nay, perhaps… perhaps someone he was meeting at the inn. Could have been any of the village women."
"Or any of the village men," Mr Blackburn proposed, leaning in from the adjoining table.
Theo rolled his eyes toward heaven and retreated to the kitchen.
It was late, he realised, and past the hour when his patrons usually stumbled home. Past the hour when Philip usually arrived. Just because Theo was above turning Philip in for the bounty did not mean that the other villagers would feel the same—even if it cost them their supply of brandy.
One person could afford a lot of brandy on the bounty of a highwayman.
His heart quickened with worry for Philip, and he hurried back into the front room of the inn, which was still packed. He needed the custom, so he resumed filling mugs and taking money, doing what he could to encourage his patrons to make their way back home, especially once they'd had their share of brandy.
"Ay, but I want to see the ghost!" Mr Goffe insisted, wobbling in his seat from the amount that he'd drunk.
"You can't see the ghost, Mr Goffe," Theo said. "It seems to me very unlikely that the ghost will appear, and particularly unlikely that the ghost will appear to a room full of people. All the ghost stories I have ever heard are lonely, solitary tales."
"Tsk," said Judith Wright, who was sitting at a table near the kitchen and distracting Mr Mondy. "My grandmother told me a tale of a ghostly coachman who would pass by the inn in the village where she grew up, and all the people in the inn could see him as he went by."
With effort, Theo refrained from expressing his suspicion that perhaps they were seeing an actual coachman with an actual coach who simply hadn't desired to stop at that particular coaching inn. He took a deep breath and tried again. "Mr Goffe. Mr Mondy did say that it was the wee hours of the morning when he saw the ghost, and you may not stay in the inn until the wee hours unless you are lodging in a room."
This idea appealed to Mr Goffe, and he elbowed Mr Blackburn. "Here, Reuben, share the cost of a room with me and we can see about spotting Erasmus Mondy's supposed ghost!"
Theo tensed, clenching his jaw, but he had no reasonable objection to the plan as long as they were paying for their room. Several other villagers quickly latched on to the idea, and Theo soon found himself with every room booked with enthusiastic ghost-seekers. Shared accommodations were arranged, two to a bed, and Judith to stay in Mr Mondy's room, which no one other than Theo seemed to find the least bit shocking. The spot in the hallway where the ghost had appeared and vanished was staked out from both ends of the hallway and the stairs, and ghost stories and theories were slung handily between knowledgeable parties.
Helpless to derail the proceedings, Theo at last gave up and betook himself outside to clear his head and prepare some signal for Philip that the inn was not safe for outlaws on that particular evening.
It was cold outside, and a mist was rising from the forest. The moon was swathed with thin clouds, casting intermittent shadows on the stark black shapes of the trees. Theo walked in the general direction of the forest, making a zig-zagging path as he considered what to do and how to warn Philip.
"Busy night at the inn," Philip said, lifting his hat in greeting. He was leaning against a tree on the edge of the forest, nearly invisible.
"Philip!" Theo's heart quickened, and he crossed to where Philip stood. His hand grasped Philip's arm, squeezing briefly, and then he realised that the touch was very familiar and retracted his hand. "I feared that you would come to the kitchen door and be discovered."
"I hope I am a better spy and brigand than all that," Philip teased. "You are wearing my ribbon, I see. It suits you." He caught Theo's hand and pulled him forward into the shadow of the trees, leaning in as though to kiss him.
Theo drew his hand away. "You should go."
"Why so cruel? I woke in your arms," Philip said, releasing him to lean back against the tree. The dark clothing he wore reduced him to a dark outline against the tree, while his pale face and light hair seemed to shine from the shadows.
"The inn is full, and the corridors are watched. There is no way to sneak you in without being caught."
"What, do they lie in wait for me?" Philip asked, straightening up and regarding the inn anew.
"Nay, not for you."
Perplexed, Philip relaxed again.
Theo sighed. "There is some rumour that the inn is haunted. My manservant, Mr Mondy, reckons he has seen a ghost—the ghost of the dead earl, you see—and thus half the village wishes to witness the spirit for themselves."
Philip laughed. "A ghost! How thrilling. Did you see it?"
"I didn't. What the devil would an earl be doing at my father's coaching-inn?"
"Which earl?"
"The Earl of Glynn. His estate is just there, not two miles distant."
"I know it. But that earl yet lives."
"Oh," Theo rubbed at his face to recall. "Nay, it is his—elder brother. Who died some years ago, whilst I was yet a babe."
"I should like to see a ghost," Philip said, play-acting at striding forward. "I shall join the proceedings."
Theo laughed and pushed him back against the tree. "You shall not." Finding himself very close to Philip and Philip's lips, he could not resist the urge to steal a kiss.
Philip's hands slipped beneath Theo's coat, settling upon his waist and holding him near.
Theo was sorely tempted to deepen the kiss, but the threat of discovery was too great while they were so near the inn. "You must go. It would be dangerous for you to stay here any longer."
"Theo," Philip said, turning his head and pointing to the inn. "Look."
Theo looked.
"That is your room, upon the north end, is it not?" Philip said. "Your window, there."
Theo followed the line of his finger. The shape of the inn sat squat and uneven in the darkness, outlined in silver by the moonlight. "Yes."
"And just beneath it, the roof of the woodshed, beneath which is a convenient rail. It would be the easiest matter in the world to climb in your window, Theo."
"And if you're caught?"
"Who shall catch me? The innkeep? Nay, he will be unlatching the window and drawing me within." Philip pecked his lips. "Go on, Theo. Unlatch the window. I shall follow."
"It is dangerous," Theo argued.
"My liaisons with you are the least dangerous thing in my life, Theo. Go. Unlatch your shutters. Unless I am no longer welcome in your bedchamber?"
Their night together had been simple and innocent. Philip had slept. Theo had held him. Yet the prospect of more was tempting, and sneaking Philip into the inn sounded like fun.
His resolve faltered. He'd allowed a devil with a charming face to tempt him, and now he found himself uncertain. He drew away. "I'll signal you when I'm certain it's safe. Stay hidden."
"I hear and obey."
Theo felt cold at being separated from Philip, and refrained with difficulty from glancing back.
Inside, the ghost vigil was continuing uninterrupted.
"There!" someone cried, pointing at Theo.
"I am Theophilus Aylmer, and not a ghost," Theo said.
There was a murmur of disappointment.
Beseeching god for patience, Theo made his way past them and up the stairs.
His room was as cold as ever, but it did not feel as empty or lonely as it had on his first nights here.
The bed remained unmade. Theo skimmed his fingers over the space where Philip had laid.
All these years, he'd known there was a yearning inside him. A loneliness, a temptation. But he'd cared passionately for his research, and he had loved his work as a lecturer. It had given him more purpose in his life than he had known elsewhere, and that had made it easier to pretend that he didn't want.
Philip put a face and a figure to that want, but the cost of indulging his yearning was potentially immense.
Theo unlatched the shutter and leaned out. The roof of the woodshed looked precarious, and Theo had no idea whether it would hold Philip's weight.
He regretted agreeing to this plan, and hesitated over whether to offer a signal. He was not in the least certain that the way was safe, but he felt sure that if he failed to signal, Philip would eventually come of his own accord to investigate.
Taking his white handkerchief from his pocket, Theo waved it out the open window.
A shadow detached itself from a tree and crept forward. It was only a few dozen yards across the open field and around the back garden, but Theo's heart pounded at the danger of having Philip so exposed.
He made short work of climbing to Theo's window, and rolled gracefully over the ledge and into the room. "You see?"
"Keep quiet," Theo scolded, while his hands fastened on Philip's lapels to draw him closer. "There are people everywhere."
Philip tilted his head to whisper in Theo's ear. "And ghosts."
Theo shoved him. Philip laughed.
After shedding his coat and hat, Philip took his usual place on the edge of the bed as he removed his boots.
Theo came to his side so that they could speak quietly. His shoulder brushed against Philip's, and he felt half a fool for a dozen different reasons.
"Why do you keep coming back?" Theo asked.
"Where else should I go?" Philip asked.
"I'm sure there's a pretty young widow or two in the area whose heads might be turned by a handsome brigand. Perhaps one with a farm and no required climbing up to windows."
Philip's brow furrowed. "Are you asking why I keep coming back to you, specifically?"
"It's dangerous."
Philip shook his head and crawled up to sit against the head of the bed. "Life is dangerous, Theo. Why do you keep letting me in?"
Theo tensed at the question, which shone a light upon all the emotions within his heart which he didn't want to face. He looked away, struggling with his own nature.
At Cambridge, he never would have done anything like this.
At Cambridge, before his friends had graduated and gone, he would have done everything like this.
He had spent the past three years since earning his doctorate being respectable, keeping his focus on his studies and his career. The professors in his college had no patience for pranks and no understanding of jests.
Sighing, Theo lay back. His head came to rest alongside Philip's hip. Folding his hands over his chest, Theo gazed up at the dark ceiling. "I suppose my head was turned by a handsome brigand."
Philip's hand came to rest in Theo's hair. It felt like forgiveness.
"That sounds like quite a trial for you," Philip murmured. His hand combed through the strands of Theo's hair, petting him like a cat. "Does this sort of thing happen often?"
Theo let out a slow breath, closing his eyes. "Only once."
He felt the shift in the bed as Philip moved, felt the way Philip's fingers tightened in his hair, and then Philip's mouth was warm and soft against his lips. Theo opened to him, winding his own hand into Philip's golden hair in order to keep him close.
Their limbs tangled together, with hands sliding under linen clothes and mouths exploring skin.
"Philip," Theo whispered, as Philip's mouth branded a path down the column of his throat.
"Hst, you talk too much," Philip scolded, kissing him again.
Theo pushed at him. "It's dangerous. If we're caught."
Philip paused. Their noses brushed, and Theo could taste Philip's breath—he no longer tasted of Philip, nor of lavender, but of the mingling of their tongues. "You're worth the danger. Will you tell me that I'm not?"
The question solidified something in Theo's chest, and he felt his heart thud harder. Chasing Philip off for his own safety or scolding him for his risks were easy enough to do without thinking about the implications. Thinking about what they were doing in terms of the risk to himself was more difficult.
"You are," Theo said. Now that he'd had a taste of this intimacy, of Philip, he felt that no force on Earth could compel him to surrender it. "For you, I will brave any danger."
"Be careful with such promises," Philip warned, tilting his head so that he could kiss along the line of Theo's jaw. "You might be called upon to keep them."