Chapter Six

NELL WOKE ABRUPTLY that morning, as if some noise had sounded in her ears, but she did not know what it could have been. The room was absolutely still; no sound disturbed the early morning hush. A sudden recollection of the ghost-visit of the night before flashed into her mind. Was he back? She sat up and looked toward the window. There was no sound or sign of movement behind the white curtains—there was only a bit of pale sunlight which had crept in through a break in the drapes and painted itself on the curtains in a narrow stripe of light. Nell jumped out of bed, ran to the window and flung back the curtains. There was nothing at all out-of-the-way. The noise that had awakened her was probably something from a dream.

She opened the drapes to let the light in and stood gazing out at the grounds that stretched away from the manorhouse toward the distant cliffs. Through the morning haze she thought she saw a glint of the sea beyond. As she watched, she became aware of something moving along the cliffs. It was a horse, galloping at a good pace. From this distance if seemed to be dangerously close to the edge of the cliffs. Nell had no doubt that the large, sinewy animal was Caceres. She could not make out the rider clearly, but she was sure it was neither Will Penloe nor Jemmy. The rider appeared to be taller than either of them, and although she could not from this distance be certain, she thought he had dark hair. Before they disappeared from view, she received the distinct impression that the powerful horse was being guided by a rider of remarkable grace and strength.

Nell yearned to jump into her riding habit and make for the stables, but she didn’t want to leave the house before seeing Amelia. She could not bring herself to waken Amelia, however, for the poor dear was evidently enjoying the first restful sleep she had had since leaving London. Nell found the wait unbearably long. Amelia did not make an appearance until the morning was well advanced. She found Nell pacing about the morning room impatiently. “Good morning, love,” Amelia said cheerily, kissing Nell’s cheek affectionately. “Have you been waiting long?”

“I’ve been up for hours! You must have slept well.”

“Like a top. I’m quite refreshed, I’m pleased to admit. All I need to make me completely content is a cup of tea. But why did you not sleep well?” She stared at Nell in sudden alarm. “Heavens, I completely forgot! Did the ghost make an appearance? Oh, my dear, is that what drove you from your bed so early?”

“Oh, no,” Nell assured her, “I slept quite well. It’s only that I’m eager to try the little mare I saw in the stables yesterday.”

“Are you sure?” Amelia asked, searching Nell’s face closely. “You saw or heard nothing at all strange?”

Nell urged Amelia into a chair and poured a cup of tea for her. “I believe you want me to have seen your ghost,” she said, laughing. “You look almost crestfallen.”

Amelia smiled wanly. “I suppose I do. But it’s only because I wish that you’d believe me when I tell you that I really saw him.”

Nell patted the old lady’s hand sympathetically. “I know you did, my dear. You see, your ghost did pay me a visit last night.”

“Nell! Truly?” Amelia put down her cup with a shaking hand and stared at Nell with an expression that combined alarm with a bit of self-satisfaction.

Nell laughed. “Truly. I saw and heard it all—the candle held by an unseen hand, the chains clanking, everything. I even spoke to him!”

Amelia gasped. “You didn’t! You’re trying to flummery me.”

“Not at all,” Nell said seriously. “He spoke to me. He said he is the ghost of a Mr. D’Espry, a smuggler who died in … when did he say? … 1669.”

“Oh, Nell, how dreadful!” She stood up so precipitously that her chair fell over. “My dear, we must leave at once. We shan’t spend another moment in this awful place!”

Nell rose, picked up Amelia’s chair and gently urged her to sit down again. “Calm yourself, dearest, please. Nothing has occurred to cause us to feel the least perturbation.”

“Nothing has occurred? Are you quite demented? Do you want to remain in a house that’s haunted?”

“Yes, I do. Very much. I’ve not been so entertained since I was a child and my governess told me that Queen Katherine haunts a gallery at Hampton Court.”

“Hampton Court? What nonsense!” Amelia declared, looking at Nell suspiciously.

“My governess did not think it nonsense. She claimed with great seriousness that poor Katherine comes shrieking through the haunted gallery with alarming regularity, wearing a white, flowing gown and a splendid jeweled hood and begging Henry for her life.”

“Really, Nell, you cannot believe such a farrago of nonsense.”

“Of course I don’t. Any more than I believe in the ghost of Mr. D’Espry,” Nell said pointedly.

Amelia blinked at her in perplexity. “But … you saw him … and spoke to him …?”

“I saw something and spoke to someone, but I don’t for a moment believe him to be a ghost.”

“Then who—?”

“I don’t know. But I have a theory,” Nell said mysteriously.

Amelia leaned forward eagerly. “What is it, my dear? Tell me, please, or I shall imagine the most dreadful things.”

“Well,” Nell said, lowering her voice carefully, “I’m convinced that someone is living in this house who shouldn’t be. And the Penloes are trying to pull the wool over our eyes.”

Amelia’s eyebrows came up in surprise. “Someone who shouldn’t be? But who—?”

“I have no idea. But suppose that some relative of the Penloes—a younger brother of Will’s or his wife’s, perhaps—has been living here on the Thornes’ largesse, eating food provided from the funds allotted for the upkeep of the house, sleeping in one of the bedrooms, using the Thorne stables as his own, and doing all these things without our family’s permission. And suppose this has been going on for years. Then we happen along and upset the whole scheme. Wouldn’t they want to frighten us off before we see for ourselves that they’ve been embezzling?”

“Embezzling!” Amelia was scandalized. “But … the Penloes don’t seem to be the sort of people who would stoop to such dishonesty,” she objected.

“Embezzlers never seem to be dishonest,” Nell declared with the confidence of a complete lack of experience. “That’s how they succeed in their odious plots.”

“You may be right,” Amelia murmured, stirring her tea absently. “But, my dear, I must admit than I don’t feel any safer in this house with embezzlers that I do with ghosts! What shall we do now? Confront them with this information?”

“No, I don’t think so. We haven’t any real information, you see. Only a completely unsubstantiated theory of mine. I think we should keep this to ourselves. We’ll watch carefully until we can prove what we say.”

Amelia shook her head. “I cannot like this situation. Knowing that there’s a strange man lurking about makes me extremely nervous. Why don’t we return to London and tell Charles the whole story? Let him come here and straighten it all out.”

“No, Amelia. I can’t go back to London. There is no situation here in Thorndene that is more disturbing than the thought of returning to London and marrying the puffed-up Sir Nigel.”

“But are you saying that we’re to stay here? And say or do nothing? And that you’ll sleep in that haunted room and let the ghost visit whenever he likes? You couldn’t, Nell!”

“Why not? I don’t believe we’re in the least danger. And I truly find myself quite fascinated with this whole affair. I expected the sojourn to Cornwall to be dull beyond endurance, but this mystery is making our visit as exciting as a play at Covent Garden.”

Amelia eyed the girl with horrified disapproval. “Your idea of excitement is much too wild, my dear. I’m afraid I cannot permit it. I look on myself in loco parentis as regards your welfare, and I must insist—!”

Nell jumped up and knelt beside Amelia’s chair, placing a finger gently on the older woman’s lips. “Don’t insist, dearest, for it will only cause a break between us, and I should be unspeakably distressed to see that come to pass. If you could but agree to remain here with me, we shall have such an adventure!”

“An adventure!” Amelia exclaimed, removing Nell’s fingers from her mouth. “We shall be found murdered in our beds!”

“We shall have a marvelous adventure, and when we eventually do return to London, you’ll have an endless supply of breathtaking stories to tell your friends over the teacups. And everyone will admire your youthful courage and remarkable intrepidity.”

“Youthful courage, humph! Intrepidity indeed!” Amelia snorted. But a gleam of interest in her eyes indicated that she had succumbed to Nell’s blandishments. “You’ll probably have all the adventures yourself, and I shall know nothing of ’em. I shall be left to worry and imagine all sorts of dire events.”

“Not at all. I shall tell you everything that happens. And, if you wish, you can share the haunted room with me,” Nell said tantalizingly.

“Pooh,” Amelia sneered, picking up her cup, “you know perfectly well that I won’t spend another night in that room. If you insist on having adventures, go ahead and have them. I shall be quite content to hear about them at second hand. That is intrepid enough for me!”

Nell hugged her, laughing. “You are a dear! Thank you! And now, let’s enjoy our breakfast. I think we’re to have smoked pilchards again.”

“I shall not be able to eat a morsel,” Amelia grumbled. “Just pour another cup of tea for me.”

“Another cup?” Nell teased as she poured the still-steaming brew into the proferred cup. “I begin to believe that you are quite addicted to this innocuous beverage.”

“Innocuous! Did you say innocuous?” Amelia repeated in horror. “What blasphemy! I’ll have you know that taking tea is one of God’s true blessings. It is almost the only joy of life which is completely free of lust, gluttony or any taint of sin! I couldn’t face a day without it! I warn you, love, that if you truly wish me to be intrepid—”

“I know, my dear,” Nell interrupted, raising a restraining hand and trying rather unsuccessfully to keep her smile from breaking forth into giggles, “I know. To keep you intrepid, I shall see that the teapot is always close at hand.”

It was noon before Nell arrived at the stables. She had brought Will Penloe with her, telling him that she did not like to ride unattended on unfamiliar territory. He saddled the mare for her, while she looked around the stables. Caceres was in his stall, his coat freshly rubbed and gleaming. There was no way to determine if he had been ridden that morning.

Will took for himself an aging, mild-mannered hack and climbed into the saddle with a stolid clumsiness. Nell could not find in his movements any sign of the grace of the morning rider. They rode out together, but when Nell spurred her horse to a gallop, Will lagged behind. He seemed to be content to ride steadily at a slow trot. Nell watched him covertly throughout the hour she spent on her ride. By the time they’d returned to the stables, she was convinced that he could not have been the man she’d seen riding Caceres that morning.

The ghost made his next appearance that night, just at midnight, but to Nell, who had been waiting eagerly for him since ten, it seemed much later. She had been about to give up and permit herself to slip into sleep when the candlelight appeared behind the white curtain. “Good evening, Mr. D’Espry,” she greeted the apparition cheerfully.

The answer was a low moan.

“Heavens, you sound ill,” she declared briskly. “Tell me, do ghosts suffer from ill-health? Headaches, or fevers, or inflammations of the liver?”

“Inflammations of the liver?” the ghost asked with that tinge of amusement in his voice which she’d heard before. “What does a young woman like you know of such things?”

“I’ll ask the questions, if you don’t mind,” Nell told him firmly. “Tell me about your health.”

“I am but a shade, a shadow, a phantasm. Obviously, I cannot suffer from headaches or inflammations,” the ghost explained patiently.

“Then, Mr. D’Espry,” Nell responded promptly, “I’d be much obliged if you would refrain from that lugubrious moaning.”

“I’m afraid I can’t oblige,” the ghost said sadly. “Moaning is quite natural to us—a kind of relief, like a sigh or a cough. I’m sorry if it frightens you.”

“It doesn’t frighten me at all. I just don’t like it.”

“I’ll try not to do it too often,” the ghost said apologetically. “Only when the pressure becomes too great.”

“Thank you. That’s very good of you.”

The ghost moaned. “Sorry,” he said when the moan had faded away.

“Don’t apologize, Mr. D’Espry. I quite understand. You can’t help it.”

“You sound very cheerful tonight, Miss Belden. Am I to understand by this mood that you’ve decided to ignore my warning of last night?” the ghost asked in a deep, rumbling voice.

“Yes, I have. I can’t see any danger in an illusory candle and a disembodied voice.”

“You are being foolhardy, my girl,” the voice said ominously.

“I am not foolhardy!” Nell said belligerently. “And don’t call me ‘my girl’ in that avuncular way.”

“I’ll call you what I like,” the ghost retorted, equally belligerent.

“I knew you were a rudesby!” Nell declared.

“A ghost’s prerogative. Only the living must abide by the rules of polite society,” the ghost responded, the amusement back in his voice.

“See here, Mr. D’Espry—would you like it if I called you ‘my boy’?”

“It would be quite inappropriate, since I am about one hundred and twenty-five years older than you. But you may call me Harry if you like.”

“I do not like!” Nell said promptly. “In fact, I do not like your name or anything about you!”

“Dear me!” the ghost said in mock chagrin. “And after I’ve tried so hard to please you! What is it about me you dislike? It cannot be my appearance.”

“That’s just it, Mr. D’Espry. I dislike speaking to a disembodied voice. I would like to see what you look like.”

The ghost moaned. “No, you wouldn’t. I am a dreadful sight. I look exactly as I looked when the excise-man took my life.”

“Oh?” asked Nell, her courage failing a bit. “And how was that?”

“Do you want to hear about my demise?” the ghost asked in surprise.

“I’m completely fascinated,” Nell assured him.

“Very well then. It was in this very room, of course—” the ghost began.

“Of course,” Nell said drily.

The ghost ignored the interruption. “I had hidden here behind the curtains. They were of a heavier material, then, and could not be seen through. Three excise-men burst into the room, swords drawn.” The ghost moaned again. “Are you sure you can stomach the details?” he asked in exaggerated concern.

“Go on,” Nell urged. “I’m all ears.”

“Well, one of them must have seen the tips of my shoes sticking out below the hem of the curtains, for he laughed evilly and brandished his sword. Before I realized what he was about, he lunged at me through the curtain and ran me through.”

“How dreadful. Just like Polonius behind the arras!”

“Exactly!” the ghost agreed.

“Do you mean to tell me that you have that sword sticking in you to this day?” Nell asked.

“No,” the ghost said with a gurgle. “Only the hole.”

Nell choked. “The … hole?”

“Would you still like to see me?” the ghost taunted.

“Well, I …” Nell hesitated.

There was the sound of a snort. “Not quite so sure, my girl, are you?”

Nell put up her chin. “I don’t believe you’d dare to show yourself! I hope you aren’t deluding yourself into believing that I take a single word of your story at all seriously.”

There was a threatening laugh, and the candle faded out. After a suspenseful moment of eerie silence, a ghostly figure came into view. It was dim and insubstantial and seemed to be floating about two feet above the floor. Nell felt a decided constriction in her chest. The figure was that of a tall man, his head shadowed, his trousers dark. The most clearly observable part of him was his white, belted smock, very much like a doublet, and over the belt was a gaping black hole surrounded by ugly bloodstains. Nell had all she could do to keep from gasping.

“How do you do, Miss Belden?” the figure said with a slight bow. “Are you satisfied now?”

“That is truly a ghastly hole, Mr. D’Espry,” she managed.

“Harry,” the ghost insisted.

“Harry,” Nell begged, “do you think you could … er … cover it up?”

The ghost laughed. “So you’re frightened at last!”

“Not frightened at all,” she declared stubbornly. “I know this is a trick of some kind, although I don’t know how it’s done.”

“If you’re so certain it’s a trick,” the ghost asked reasonably, “then why does the sight of my … wound trouble you?”

“It’s so bloody,” Nell said in a small voice. “Couldn’t you wear a … a … waistcoat or something, to cover it up?”

“I must remind you that I’m only a shadow. One can’t hang a waistcoat on a shadow, you know.”

“Oh, I see,” said Nell, trying to recover her composure.

“Would you rather that I disappear again? I’d be glad to return to my candle form,” the ghost offered.

“No, thank you. I’ll grow accustomed to your appearance.”

The ghost shook his head admiring!y. “You are a remarkable girl, you know. Most ladies run screaming from the room when they see me.”

“Do they indeed?” Nell remarked, amusement having restored her equilibrium. “How very tiresome for you. Especially since you must have been a fine figure of a man when you were alive. I would imagine you were quite a favorite with the ladies.”

The ghost laughed. “However did you guess? Well, my girl, I know it’s immodest to admit it, but the ladies did adore me. I had scores of ’em dangling at my heels.”

“Only scores of them? Not hundreds?”

“Oh, there were hundreds, if you count the married ones who offered to leave their husbands for me—”

“Let us count the married ones by all means.”

The ghost put his hands on his hips, his elbows akimbo. She could almost see him looking at her askance. “I can see that you don’t believe me,” he said, a smile in his voice, “but many more ladies have made me welcome in their bedrooms when I was alive than have run away from me in the century and a half since my demise.”

“I’ve no doubt of it,” Nell said fastidiously, “but I don’t find this an appropriate subject for discussion between a man and a young lady.”

“Between a ghost and a young lady,” he corrected, “anything may be discussed. As I pointed out to you earlier, there are no rules in this situation.”

“If you insist on speaking in an unseemly manner, sir, I shall have to ask you to … er … evaporate, or vaporize … or do whatever it is ghosts do when they take their leave.”

“Very well, we’ll change the subject,” he acquiesced. “I don’t wish to be considered crude or vulgar, even though I’m a ghost and therefore unaffected by such earthly epithets. However, in regard to taking my leave, may I remind you that I make my arrivals and departures only at my whims, not yours?”

“Hmmmph!” Nell snorted in annoyance. “Then there are rules for ghostly behavior. And they are very unfair, being designed for your convenience and not a bit for mine.”

“Not all in my favor,” the ghost pointed out ruefully. “There is one inflexible rule which is entirely in your favor. I may never touch you, you know, any more than a shadow may.”

“What does that signify?” Nell asked thoughtlessly. “You can have no need or inclination to touch me, anyway.”

“You can’t know much about men—or ghosts—or how delightful you look sitting there in your nightdress, if you believe that,” the ghost said with a disturbing sincerity.

Nell blushed and pulled the bedclothes up to her neck. For a long moment neither of them spoke. Nell, her eyes fixed on the bedclothes, was quite conscious of the ghost’s eyes on her. “I wish you would not say such things to me,” she said at last. “I am not accustomed to speaking so freely to gentlemen.”

“But I am no gentleman, you know.”

“You must have been, once.”

“No, never. Only a poor smuggler.”

“Rubbish! Your speech gives you away. But never mind that now. I’ve just realized something. You say that the rules make it impossible for you to touch me, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Then how can you claim I am in danger? You cannot be a danger to me if you can’t touch me,” she declared triumphantly.

“A ghost has ways, without using touch. Many ways. That’s why you must go … as soon as possible.”

“What ways?” Nell asked.

“I shall now take my leave,” he said, his voice deepening and taking on a ghostly monotone. “Just remember … you must go-o-o-o-o-o …”

The ghost slowly faded from view. “But wait, Mr. D’Espry!” she called after him. “You haven’t explained—! Mr. D’Esp—? Harry! Come back!”

But he was gone. The room was in complete darkness. Nell didn’t bother to look behind the curtains. She knew she would find nothing. But the “ghost” had given her much to think about. Who was he? And of what was he trying to warn her? Was he, as she suspected, a trespasser who wanted her out of the house? Was he truly a danger to her? And how had he created those frightening illusions of floating candles and ghostly presences?

She slid down under the comforter and snuggled into the pillows. Her pulse was racing, but she could not tell if the pounding in her blood was caused by fear or excitement. There was only one thing she knew with certainty: she had not the slightest intention of leaving this house, no matter what danger loomed before her. She was having much too beguiling a time.