We’d lost all thought of time. Judging from the sun’s position, I guessed we returned to the vicarage in the mid-afternoon. I crossed the threshold first. Mr. Lovell lingered for a moment outside, for something had caught his attention just as I opened the door.
“What was that?” he asked as he looked off to one side. I stepped back outside and followed his gaze.
“I saw nothing,” I replied, apprehension suddenly flaring alive.
“Wait—there it is again. Did you see it this time? Over there—between the trees.”
I reluctantly obeyed but found nothing strange in the direction he indicated. “It must have been a bird,” I offered, my heart racing. “We should go in.”
Mr. Lovell appeared not to hear me. He continued to stare long and hard at the trees. Then he said, “I don’t think it was a bird. Go on ahead, Nathaniel. I’ll follow in a moment.”
Without another word, he suddenly sprang away and hurried off, vanishing around the corner of the house. I stood by the doorway in mounting terror, unsure of what to do next.
“Where the Devil have you been?”
I turned around with a small gasp. Papa stood in the shadows of the hallway.
“I went out for a walk,” I stammered, grateful for his presence despite his obvious fury. I swallowed to calm myself and stepped across the threshold.
“A walk! You went out for a walk, when I specifically told you to stay in your room! Good God, Nathaniel, your obstinacy has—”
Footsteps coming up behind me silenced him.
“I saw nothing,” our guest announced a little breathlessly as he closed the door and approached me. “I followed the line around the vicarage and—oh, forgive me. Good day, Mr. Wakeman.”
“Mr. Lovell,” Papa said with a stiff nod of his head. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“It was my fault entirely, sir. My visit is unannounced, I’m afraid.” He paused and glanced at me. “Forgive me, sir, for imposing. It was I who invited your son for a walk.”
Papa’s anger visibly eased. His shoulders sagged. He nodded, the tense lines in his face vanishing. “Thank you, Mr. Lovell. I was concerned. Natty simply slipped away without a word to the housekeeper.”
“I’m sorry,” I stammered. “I didn’t think it would cause so much trouble.”
“We’ll have time enough for that,” Papa replied, and he beckoned to us. “Come along. I’m pleased to see you here again, Mr. Lovell. Do stay for dinner.”
“Thank you, I will.”
“Where are you lodging?”
“Rookley, sir.”
Papa stole a glance over his shoulder. “Rookley! Why not Havenstreet?”
“I prefer a small room in a quiet cottage.”
Papa’s eyes twinkled. “I see. You, sir, are an exile. Well, if you wish for advice from an old man, Mr. Lovell, I’m here to listen and offer something I hope will be of use to you.”
“Thank you, sir.” Mr. Lovell walked beside me as we followed Papa through the hallway toward the parlor. After their brief exchange, he nudged me gently with his elbow. “Your father suspects something amorous, I’m sure, about my being here.”
“Does he?” I whispered back. “He said nothing.”
“He knows, believe me.”
I tried not to think about it. Instead I allowed my thoughts to alight on even more unpleasant matters.
“What did you see in the trees, Mr. Lovell?” I whispered again.
“I can’t say for sure. It was a figure—something that was dark with a white face, I think. It stood among the trees at the edge of the grounds.”
“Did you see it move?” My heart raced again.
“No, I can’t say that I did. It just stood there, as if watching us.”
“You saw it watching us?”
He hesitated. “No, but I felt that it did. I wish I could be more, uh, logical about that point, but all I can go by is a strong sense of being watched.”
“It might have been an animal of some kind.”
“Only if you think large dogs can stand on their hind legs for a long time without moving. No, it was too tall and too thin. I’m sure it was a person.”
My hands were damp again. I wiped them against my trousers. “Did—did you feel threatened in any way?”
“I confess I was unsettled though I don’t know why. It was—I don’t know—a feeling I had, and it seemed to come from nowhere. I’m not a nervous sort, you know.”
We’d reached the parlor by then. “But you saw nothing when you ran for the trees,” I prodded.
He shook his head, his brows slightly creased. “Nothing,” he replied. “I must confess I’ve never experienced anything like this. I don’t have an overactive imagination, Nathaniel, and neither do I believe in superstitious nonsense. If I did, I’d say what I glimpsed was a specter of some kind.” He chuckled and shook his head. “But that’s damned ridiculous.”
I said nothing in return. I did, however, feel some relief at the thought someone else—someone whom I not only trusted but also held in very high regard—had seen the ghost. While it didn’t ease the fear and horror that had now become constants in my waking hours, it certainly assured me of one thing. I most definitely wasn’t going mad.
* * * *
Mama arrived just before dinner. She welcomed Mr. Lovell to our tiny circle less warmly than before, but she appeared tired from her journey to and from Ryde. She also didn’t wish to talk about her friend, saying that out of respect for the lady’s privacy, she couldn’t share much more than the fact that Mama’s friend was ill and perhaps may be dying.
“It’s enough that we pray for her comfort and health,” she added. No more words were said on the matter.
Over dinner, Mr. Lovell enjoyed the attention my parents heaped upon him. His spirits visibly rose, and his usual gaiety returned. His eyes brightened, the shadows that darkened his features vanished, and he looked handsomer than before. Within moments, laughter and light conversation filled the dining room. Papa prodded our guest over his reasons for traveling to the island and not taking up a room at Northwode Hall.
“The secrecy of your journey and the modesty of your accommodations, sir, are quite telling. Let me guess—a lady’s involved, am I correct?”
Mr. Lovell merely laughed, his cheeks coloring. It appeared Papa was correct, and I felt ill. “I’ve nothing to say to that, sir.”
Thankfully my parents, though in a jovial mood, didn’t press, but I knew how eager both of them were in finding out more. I’d yet to stir the calm waters in the vicarage with my own romantic adventures. For now, my parents had Mr. Lovell on whom to dote over matters of the heart.
I hated the subject they’d raised. I must confess I hated it. I added nothing to the conversation—merely listened and watched Mr. Lovell, torn between admiring him without compunction and resenting his presence. I was mystified by the effect he had on me. If I could, I’d sit there and watch him, absorb every word he’d say, and think myself a far richer boy than I was before we crossed paths. At the same time, I was uncomfortable with the intensity of my admiration for him and the awful pangs of annoyance at the mention of a lady in his life. I found I had more questions than answers. By the end of dinner, I wasn’t quite sure I knew myself anymore.
Papa invited Mr. Lovell for more conversation and drink afterward. Mama retired for the evening, claiming a headache and exhaustion, but she nonetheless seconded Papa’s invitation with a good deal of warmth.
“You may stay for the night, if you wish,” she added with a smile. “I can have Dorcas prepare the spare bedroom for you.”
“An excellent idea,” Papa said. “If you came here on foot, Mr. Lovell, it wouldn’t be wise to walk back to Rookley. We don’t keep a carriage, as you know, and our Stephen is away at present and unavailable to take you back home by pony and trap.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wakeman. I’m much obliged.” Mr. Lovell then followed him to the parlor while Mama sent Dorcas upstairs before she herself ascended. I reluctantly shadowed the men if only to bid them goodnight as well.
“You’re a coward, Nathaniel,” I muttered to myself once I closed my bedroom door behind me. I leaned against it, scowling in the dimness of my sanctuary. Keats’ poetry remained where I left it earlier, and its pages beckoned. That was one comfort to be had, I thought, and I gladly sat down at my writing desk and lost myself in poetry.
* * * *
A dull, throbbing pain in my neck awoke me. I’d fallen asleep at my desk, my book serving as an uncomfortable pillow.
“Oh, Lord,” I groaned, slowly raising myself up. Sharp pain stabbed at me now as strained muscles were forced back into movement. I grimaced and rubbed my neck and my shoulders. I also felt thirsty and decided to wander downstairs for something refreshing.
I didn’t know what time it was—only that it was silent and dark everywhere. It had begun to rain as well. A gentle shower, I saw, my windows welcoming the light and rhythmic patter. It was a comforting sound.
Downstairs all was silence as well, with the only light coming from the parlor. I ignored it and went to the kitchen for my drink. On my way back upstairs, I stopped at the sight of light filtering out from under the parlor door.
Perhaps Papa was still awake. I suppose it was time for me to confront his anger at my bold escape.
“Better now than later.” I sighed. He certainly wouldn’t forget.
I knocked on the door and entered without waiting for an invitation.
“Oh,” I stammered. “I didn’t realize you were still awake, sir.”
Mr. Lovell rose from his seat, setting a book aside.
“I’ve completely lost all thought of time, I’m afraid,” he said with a rueful laugh. “I should retire. Your father was kind enough to allow me some time to myself. He said I needed it.”
I leaned against the door and regarded him thoughtfully. “Were you able to confide in him about your, uh, troubles?”
“In a way, yes. He was very generous and patient with me. I owe him much.” He paused, blinking, and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m also a bit drunk, I’m afraid.”
“As long as you’re feeling a little more at ease, sir,” I said. I tried not to be resentful like before, but it seemed I didn’t try hard enough. I grew a little sullen at the thought he wouldn’t trust me with his troubles despite my assurances and clear advantage as the keeper of his secrets.
In my childish way, I’d convinced myself having confided in Papa, Mr. Lovell was surely beyond my influence now. Another man had advised him, not a friend, and he was well on his way to being lost to me. Surely, I thought, Papa would have told him to stop his dawdling and propose to Miss Thornber. I was sure one of the first things he’d do the moment he set foot on Liscombe was to hurry to the lady’s side and beg for her hand. It was miserable.
Mr. Lovell’s tired gaze strayed to the hearth. The fire had long died. “I wish I were at ease, Nathaniel,” he said, his voice quiet. “I wish I were.”
“Perhaps you didn’t ask the right questions.”
“The right questions, as you call them, aren’t the best questions to ask.”
I frowned at him. “I don’t understand.”
“I should go to bed now,” he said with an impatient wave of a hand. “The longer I stay here, the more confounded things grow. I’m sorry I can’t stay and speak with you longer.”
Resentment turned to anger. “I’m sorry, too,” I said. “I hope you enjoyed dinner. I know my parents enjoyed your company.” I shrugged and turned around, taking the doorknob in hand.
“I appreciate your time, Nathaniel. I only wish I could have been a much better companion to you today.”
He’d been using my Christian name throughout his visit. I found it extremely difficult not to cling to that fact, though it felt as though he broke my heart every time he said it. I paused at the door and looked back. “Then why did you come?”
“Because I had questions I needed answered.” He hesitated. “Because I wished to test my strength.”
“And? Do you find yourself strong, sir?”
“No, but I know where I ought to direct my steps.”
“I’m sorry if your visit wasn’t very pleasurable.” I opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. “I’ll show you to your room, Mr. Lovell.”