Chapter 27

Inside the abandoned foundry gates, Pascoe rode along the brick foundation, glancing up at the crumbling chimneys. “How long will it take to rebuild, do you think?”

Fin uneasily sat his horse some distance from the rain-wet, rambling structure. “Depends on how much money and how many men we have. Bridey worries that Darrow could be out here, looking to kill you and bring soldiers. Shouldn’t we return to the manor and wait for your nephews?”

“As I said, we need to lure him out if he’s actually in there,” Pascoe said with a fatalistic shrug. “Whether it’s now or later makes little difference. We still have no evidence that he’s anything more than a sniveling thief taking advantage of his brother’s foolishness. If he’s behind the earl’s accidents, he’d have to hit me over the head with falling brick to be true to form. If anything, you are in as much danger as I am.”

“You will notice I am leading you far from any falling walls,” Fin said. “But most of these walls are solid. It’s the furnace and floors that need replacing. If we don’t venture inside, we should be safe enough,” he added dubiously.

“The place stinks of desolation, but it seems solid from the exterior.” Satisfied with his inspection, Pascoe turned his mount around. “Let us hie back to the house and see who has arrived. If my nephews are here, I think we can use them to set up a ring of men along the wall of the foundry. Then we’ll send William in with the dogs to see if we can flush out Darrow, if he is actually here.”

“If Bridey saw him with that weird eye of hers, then he’s here somewhere. She can be scary.” Fin looked at him quizzically, as if awaiting a reaction.

“Your sister is many things. Scary is not one of them.” Pascoe kneed his horse back up the lane toward the manor, his instincts not happy. Unable to pin down what was bothering him, he eagerly rode back to Bridey and the twins. Back to the twins, he reminded himself. Bridey would be riding off with his nephews to see to the women in Wystan. He had to parcel her away as part of his past, as he did everyone he met in his travels, and return to his real life.

Although, until now, had he really been leading any life at all?

When Will met them half way down the lane, dogs leashed and yipping anxiously, Pascoe knew his instincts had been right again. In alarm, he sent his horse galloping up to meet him.

Bridey sighed in relief after the dogs directed them to the children nibbling biscuits and milk in the kitchen. The maid who’d been assigned to them had been hovering protectively, just as she should.

“After yesterday, we all worry about them too much,” Bridey said to Lord Theo, who had joined her in the kitchen. “It is a good thing your brother understood that the dogs were telling us where to find them or we’d be hunting the entire valley again.”

“Will also said that the dogs were upset,” Theo reminded her. “So there may yet be cause to worry. He’s taken them to find Pascoe, just in case.”

Bridey tried to imagine the bronzed farmer talking to the dogs the way Edward did and couldn’t, but she’d be happier if Pascoe were here. “Edward, did Roscoe and Rosy seem upset to you?”

The boy wiped his milky lip and shrugged. “They wanted to come down with us, but Cook said they couldn’t.”

Bridey was about to accept that as explanation enough when a hair-raising scream curdled her blood.

Lord Theo and Lord Erran bounded for the stairs. Everyone else froze.

“The earl,” one of the footmen said in horror, apparently recognizing the voice.

Fighting panic, Bridey nodded at the footman and the butler. “Follow Lord Theo and do as he tells you.”

The two men didn’t have to be asked twice. They took off on Theo’s heels. Swallowing her fear, accepting that she couldn’t be two places at once, she turned to the Cook, maid, and kitchen servants. “Don’t let the children leave your sight, please. They’re quick and they disappear easily, so keep them occupied.”

The children watched her with bright eyes filled with curiosity, but they didn’t seem too concerned. She thanked heaven—or their invisible mother. Bridey kissed their dark curls, lifted her traveling skirt, and ran upstairs. Following the sound of male voices urgently ordering each other around, she arrived in the main corridor—where Carstairs was clinging head-first to his precariously dangling gallery. The balcony had come unhinged on one side and was hanging from one beam and bouncing against the wall below. The earl lay flat across the threshold, trying to grasp swaying floorboards.

In the second-floor doorway, gripping the earl’s legs, was Jack, looking ashen and terrified. The lad was scarcely strong enough to hold up a full-grown man, but he’d braced himself on either side of the door and acted as ballast.

Bridey bit her lip and held her hand over her pounding heart as Lord Erran appeared in the doorway behind the boy. With a few quiet words, he reached over Jack’s kneeling figure, grabbed the back of the earl’s coat, and yanked him back to solid floor.

The servants standing below shouted and clapped, and Bridey thought she might expire of relief. She really didn’t want to send for the duke for another cracked head.

She ran up the stairs to hug poor Jack, while the Ives brothers returned a visibly shaken Carstairs to his chamber. “What in heaven’s name happened?” she asked, leading the trembling boy after the men.

He glanced at her worriedly, then back at the men. “I don’t rightly know, my lady. It all happened so quick.”

She checked the open closet door. “What happened to all the shelves? I thought Mr. Pascoe had them returned and the door locked?”

“He did, ma’am,” a footman reported, looking equally puzzled. “I helped him myself.”

“Will you see to it that the gallery door is locked and guarded until a carpenter can find a way to make it impassable?”

“Yes, my lady.” He stood in front of the closet while the housekeeper came running with her keys.

Wishing she could do more, wishing Pascoe were here, Bridey led Jack down to the earl’s bedchamber.

Carstairs was rubbing the back of his shaved head, pacing with jerky steps around his room, refusing to sit down. “I was pushed, I swear. The damned ghost pushed me!”

Bridey sent Jack a sharp look. He shook his head indignantly.

“The closet was filled with linens just yesterday,” Bridey asserted, before they started questioning ghosts. “Pascoe nailed the gallery door shut because the gallery isn’t strong enough to hold a man’s weight. No ghost used a key to open the closet, removed all those linens and shelves, plus the bar on the door. Darrow has keys.”

She ought to feel guilty convicting Oscar without evidence. But if he was a thief, and he lingered here instead of escaping. . . Perhaps he wanted title as well as wealth.

“Darrow has keys to the manor?” Theo asked, immediately alert.

“The outer doors are barred at night,” she said, understanding his point. “And Pascoe has guards posted on them. No one can enter without notice.”

“Who is that boy?” Carstairs asked querulously, catching sight of Jack hiding behind Bridey’s skirts. “He saved my life.”

“Are you sure he’s not the one who pushed you?” Lord Erran asked, leaning his shoulder against a wall and crossing his arms while studying the boy.

“I would not!” Jack said indignantly. “I ain’t big enough, no how.”

Carstairs waved a hand. “The push was between my shoulder blades. The boy don’t stand tall enough to push my bum.” He turned apologetically to Bridey. “’Pologize, my lady, but that boy is a hero, and I won’t hear otherwise. Don’t suppose you have more of them headache powders? Hanging down like that has my skull coming off.”

“I can ride over to the house and mix more,” she offered. She feared the earl wouldn’t be quite so taken with Jack once he learned who he might be. Now wasn’t the time to tell him. “First I need to know we’re all safe from murderous ghosts. What were you doing in the closet?”

He frowned and rubbed his head more. “The door was open. I was wondering if the carpenters had returned to finish building the gallery since I didn’t order them up.”

Bridey was grateful that the Ives brothers didn’t question the idiocy of a balcony overhanging a corridor and not a ballroom. “So you stood in the doorway to see if there were men in the closet and someone shoved you? Or could you have just lost your balance?”

“They shoved, and I tripped!” He added the last excitedly. “I remember tripping and then just plunging onto the gallery, head first, like a great galumph. Then the whole thing tilted and nails started ripping out and the boy ran up and grabbed my boots.”

Everyone turned to look at Jack. Looking wary, he emerged from behind Bridey. He sent her an rueful glance first. “I was in the blue room. I heard all the strangers and thought I’d listen to see what was about, so I left the door cracked open. The maids don’t go in there unless there’s guests, so I figured I wasn’t hurting anybody.”

“Who the devil are you?” Carstairs asked again.

“That’s a matter of some dispute,” Bridey explained. “Let’s wait on that matter. He’s been staying with Fin. Go on, Jack.”

At Fin’s name, Carstairs snorted and settled into a chair, looking as if he really needed headache powers.

“I thought I heard someone walking by, so I ducked behind the door.”

“How long were you up there?” Lord Erran asked, interrupting.

“I kinda fell asleep there last night,” Jack explained, rubbing his nose to hide his embarrassment. “I didn’t wake up until I heard all of you in the breakfast room, so I figured I’d bide my time a while longer.”

“Did you hear the clock ring the hour? Do you know what time it was when you heard footsteps?” Bridey asked.

“It rings only once at one and at the half hour, so I don’t know if it was one or half past,” he answered. “But it was the earl I heard first. Ask him the time.”

“One of the clock,” Carstairs said. “What does it matter? I knew I was keeping guests waiting, so I was in a hurry.”

Jack nodded. “I heard him and stayed back. I wasn’t hearing much from the breakfast room anyway. I was wishing the gallery was finished so I could sit out there. And then Lord Carstairs stopped, I reckon to look in the closet. That’s when I heard more feet, kinda funny sounding, like they wore slippers or stockings. I didn’t think there was anyone else up here but me.”

“Except you’d been sleeping and wouldn’t know who was up there,” Bridey added to clarify. Jack nodded sheepishly.

“What time did the children go down to the kitchen garden?” Lord Erran asked, coming alert and sounding like the lawyer he was.

“Before noon, I suppose. I went out to find them around twelve-thirty but they had already gone down to the kitchen,” Bridey said.

Lord Theo frowned. “If the garden is walled off, would the house door to it be locked or guarded? Could anyone walk in?”

Bridey hesitated. “The wall gate is locked, but if the maid and dogs left by the house door, the footman might have thought the dogs provided adequate protection and taken a break.”

“Will took those dogs out the back gate,” Lord Erran pointed out. “It wasn’t locked. You said Darrow had keys. If the maid and children were in the kitchen, and the footman wasn’t at the door. . . Theo, why don’t you take a look at that closet and see if there’s a wire or string across it, near the floor? I think we need to start hunting for an intruder.”

The men eagerly began plotting a thorough search.

Bridey looked at Carstairs’ pale face and knew her time was better spent preparing powders so he was able to deal with what the future held. For the first time since the young earl had arrived in her life, she felt sympathy for him. He’d been given everything money could buy but never taught to handle the responsibility that came with great wealth, or to even think for himself—as the Ives men had.

But then, the Ives men had brothers they could trust.

Pascoe had shown her that men existed who were capable of thinking of others. She wished she could believe there would be another man like him for her, one who didn’t have small children, and would let her do as she must. She feared such a creature didn’t exist.

She tried not to consider the whisper of life that might be growing in her womb. She’d conceived before. It hadn’t worked out well. Besides, it was too soon to know for certain that she wasn’t fooling herself.

She left Jack to guide the Ives men to all the manor’s hiding places, then slipped away. If Carstairs’ assailant was hiding in the house, it should be safe enough to ride home for the headache powders. She called for her horse and a groom, and checked on the children while she waited. Reassured they were content with playing with the kitchen cat’s new kittens, she hurried back upstairs.

To her amazement, Pascoe and Fin were riding hell-bent toward the house when she stepped outside. Mr. Ives-Madden trotted behind with the dogs, further down the hill.

“The twins? Is everyone all right?” Pascoe shouted. He flung his reins to the stable hand and practically leapt from his horse.

Fin more methodically climbed down and held his own reins.

With an audience watching with interest, Bridey couldn’t run to Pascoe’s arms as she wished. It was horrid being so close to this man, to understand his fears and needs, and still have to pretend she was no more than a hostess.

“The twins are happily playing with kittens. How did you know anything was wrong?”

Pascoe gestured back at Mr. Ives-Madden. “Will said the dogs were upset.”

Bridey tried not to raise her eyebrows too high that he accepted his nephew’s oddity. “It’s the earl. Someone has tried to push him off the gallery. Your nephews seem to think there is an intruder, so they’re setting up a search.”

He grabbed her hand, but they were both wearing gloves, and there was only minimal comfort in this acknowledgment. “And you? Have you seen anything?”

That he asked warmed her heart even more than having him hold her hand. “Nothing unusual. But Carstairs didn’t empty that closet and push himself off. If Jack hadn’t been hiding upstairs and been there to catch him, I fear he would have broken his neck.”

They exchanged speaking glances. “And you have seen no more indication that Darrow or any other stranger lingers?”

She shook her head at what he didn’t ask in front of the servants. But she was done hiding who she was. “I have to literally see a person before I can see his aura. Auras are brighter than shadows, but that’s the only advantage. Yesterday, I thought I saw Oscar’s muddy colors through a crack in the boards covering a foundry window, but he’s not a ghost. He needs food and water. The dower house is where he lives. It’s directly behind the manor. If he entered and departed through the back gate as Lord Erran suspects, no one would have seen him. Someone probably ought to search his house.”

“Carstairs doesn’t have keys to the dower house. Since we thought Oscar heading for London and the books I needed were in the manor office, we weren’t too concerned. We’ll have to break in to search.” Pascoe frowned. “Where are you going?”

“To mix headache powders. I thought if I rode over, I could be back faster than walking and be there to hear if you found anything.”

“Keep the groom with you. Until we know who is behind these incidents, I don’t want you taking any chances.” He squeezed her hand and hurried inside to join his nephews, with Fin on his heels.

That he cared enough to worry warmed her heart. She waved at Mr. Ives-Madden as she and the groom rode down the hill, then spurred her horse toward the house she’d called home for the first part of her life. The groom clattered at her heels on his sturdy pony.

“Hold up a bit, my lady,” the servant called as they reached the bottom of the hill. “The pony’s picked up a stone. I’ll have to walk her.”

She’d spent her entire life riding this village alone. She had only half a mile to go. “I’ll go on ahead. You can catch up with me at my brother’s house.”

Only after she’d ridden around the curve that hid her from the manor did she feel an itch down her spine. After the morning’s disaster, she heeded the warning and opened her inner eye to seek any danger in her path.

Ready to spur her horse into a gallop at the first sign of trouble, Bridey didn’t see the heavy branch hitting her from behind.

She screamed in fury as much as fear as she hit the muddy ground.