Chapter Six #2
“Rafe Beauchamp. I’m the lunatic you met last All Saints’ Day who peppered you with questions about ghosts.”
Mr. Brown snapped his fingers. “Of course! Did you find the answers you sought?”
Rafe glanced at Osanne with a smile. “I believe I have discovered at least one answer.” A laugh tugged at the corner of his mouth. “What is a vicar doing at a wild celebration such as this?”
Mr. Brown smiled sheepishly. “Just trying to stay near my flock. It’s appropriate to be a part of the local customs. Helps build rapport.”
A familiar-looking lovely young lady walked past with a couple who could only be her parents, based on the resemblance. She smiled shyly at Mr. Brown.
The vicar touched his hat. “Mr. and Mrs. Morris. Miss Morris.” His gaze lingered on Miss Morris’s face. She smiled and glanced down as she tucked a stray dark curl into her bonnet.
The mother and father greeted him. Miss Morris cast him one last look from underneath her lashes before hurrying to catch up with her parents, who strolled on the path toward Ravenswood Manor.
Mr. Brown looked after her for a moment, then gave Rafe a friendly smile. “Will you visit our humble village longer this time, Mr. Beauchamp?”
“I wish I could, but I’m merely passing through.” He gave Osanne another smile. “I am persuaded, however, that this is the most appealing place to spend All Hallows’ Eve. Perhaps I shall make it an annual event.”
Was he in earnest? The thought of him greeting her every time she awoke, spending the whole night with her, inspiring her music, and reminding her what it was to be a part of someone’s life, made her want to burst into song.
Mr. Brown gestured toward the quaint church. “And I am persuaded that we would benefit from your visits. May I hope to see you for the All Saints’ Day service?”
Rafe smiled but offered no commitment.
Mr. Brown wisely didn’t press him. “Think it over. In the meantime, I must be off. This year, I’m an invited guest at the masquerade.”
A particular gleam in his eye revealed that his interest probably lay in a certain young lady. Mr. Brown bade them good evening and trotted toward Ravenswood Manor in an attempt to catch up to the Morris family.
Rafe nodded toward the house and asked Osanne, “Do you wish to play your music?”
“I would, very much.”
Rafe and Osanne ambled along the lane toward Ravenswood Manor, taking their time to give the invited guests the opportunity to arrive without noticing trespassers.
“Music, first,” Rafe said. “And then?”
“There is something else I wish I could do,” Osanne said.
“Anything.”
“I wish I could learn what happened to my brother.”
Rafe’s footsteps paused briefly. “The story the old man told was about you, wasn’t it?”
“It was.”
“What happened?”
“My parents always hosted the annual All Hallows’ Eve ball, a tradition the new occupants have carried on.
Hours before I fell to my death, my parents charged me to keep watch over my brother, Henry.
They suspected that he would try to sneak out to make a little mischief with his friends.
My task was to ensure that he fulfilled his duty to dance every set—especially with the wallflowers. He considered that a terrible chore.”
“Indeed?” Rafe said. “I cannot recall dancing with girls to be a chore.”
She imagined a younger Rafe dancing and charming girls of every age. Had he had much time to dance during the war?
Instead, she said, “As a lad of fifteen, Henry had not yet developed an interest in girls—especially not wallflowers.”
“Ah. What happened?”
“When my friends arrived, I forgot to watch Henry. It wasn’t until quite late that I realized he had left. How long he had been gone, I could not guess. So, I went in search of him.”
Rafe took slow, measured steps as he remained by her side.
“It was an especially dark night and I had neglected to take a lantern. I searched, calling and calling him, to no avail. I became so cold that I could barely feel my feet, but I dared not return home without him.”
Next to her, Rafe held his breath.
“I remember falling. Then a sharp pain.”
Rafe let out a shaking breath. How difficult this must be for him to hear. “That’s when you...died.” He uttered that last word in a whisper.
“Suddenly, I was no longer cold or in pain. A bright shaft of light opened up near me and I felt a current pulling me toward it. But I was afraid, so I turned away. The next thing I knew, it was All Hallows’ Eve the following year, and I was in a graveyard with all these strange, partially transparent people.
And no one living could see or hear me. My home was empty of people, and all the furniture was covered. Dust lay over everything.”
“They must have left out of grief over losing you.”
Bitterly, she said, “Or perhaps they were so angry with me for losing Henry. I fear something dire happened to him that night and they were so grief-stricken, that they could not bear to live here any longer.”
“Surely, they grieved for you, Osanne. How could they not?”
Guilt gnawed away at her. “Perhaps. They were loving parents. But I failed them. Henry was their only son.” If only she knew of a surety that he had come to no harm.
“Did you ever discover what happened to Henry?”
“No. It is my deepest desire to learn of his fate. Not knowing is torturous.”
He held out a hand. “I will make inquiries. Someone must know what happened to him and to your parents.”
“I would be very grateful to you.” If she could have hugged him, she would have. If only she could! A few more lines of her composition formed in her mind, a sweeter, brighter tone than the previous movement.
“Why did you fear the light you saw after you fell?”
“I felt it pulling me, like a river’s current. Yet, I could see nothing inside the light. I feared if I let it take me that I would find nothingness—that I would cease to exist at all. I have seen other spirits go into it but the moment they reach the edge, they vanish.”
He nodded slowly. “I suppose that would frighten anyone.”
When they reached Ravenswood Manor, music and voices grew louder coming from the drawing room. Rafe walked with the relaxed confidence of an invited guest as he and Osanne headed through the same side door and straight for the music room.
Rafe turned those incredibly bright, beautiful eyes toward Osanne. “Does it trouble you that the new family has adopted your custom of holding an All Hallows’ Eve Masquerade?”
“It did, at first, but it is rather an obligation of those who live in the Great House to entertain, and in a way, I am glad they continue the tradition. Although, it does make it a bit more challenging to play the pianoforte without alarming anyone.”
Rafe grinned. “It does. But it provides a bit of a thrill, as well, does it not?”
She shared a smile with him.
“I took precautions this year and wore attire appropriate for a ball in the event we are discovered again.” Out of a pocket from his overcoat, he retrieved a decorated mask. “I even brought a mask.”
He removed his greatcoat to reveal a finely tailored evening suit, far simpler in design than any she had before seen.
No lace adorned his throat, merely a cravat tied in an intricate knot.
Nor did lace peep out underneath the sleeves of his tailcoat, which also had an unusual design, cut square at the waist, with long tails, and solid black rather than brocade.
Elegant in its simplicity. And how superbly it accentuated Rafe’s very fine form.
Under her stare, he raised a brow and smiled smugly. He knew of her admiration, the scoundrel.
She admitted, “You look very well, indeed, although I have never seen clothing of that style.”
He adopted a lofty pose. “’Tis the very latest fashion from London.”
“Indeed? Fashion has certainly changed since I attended balls and soirees.”
“Styles do tend to change quickly.”
In the music room, she paused to admire the pianoforte before lowering herself to the padded bench. Rafe took a seat on the bench beside her. If she had a body, he would be touching her intimately, at every point on her left side.
His nearness brought clarity to the new section.
She played her piece, including the stanza from last year, and added the new variation.
How sweet to finally hear more of the composition she started long ago.
The last notes faded away, the composition still incomplete.
Still, she had made much progress this eve.
Rafe whispered. “Magnificent.”
She ran her fingers along the edge of the keyboard, suddenly shy about speaking the thoughts of her heart. “I thought my inspiration for composing ended with my death. But somehow, with you near, I hear it again.”
Softly, he said, “I inspire you?”
“You do.” She dared a look at him.
A soft light entered his eyes. “I never imagined I’d be anyone’s muse.”
They shared a smile that created a hopeful sort of longing somewhere in her disembodied soul. “It is yet unfinished. I know there is more, but this is all I hear at present.”
“Would you play it again?”
“Gladly.”
She immersed herself in the beauty of music and the beauty of the man next to her who brought it back to life for her. As the last notes dissipated, the room fell silent.
The door burst open. “Oh!” The same housekeeper from last time stood gaping at Rafe. “It’s you again, sir.”
Rafe stood. “It is I, again. But this time, I’m better dressed for the occasion.” He gestured to himself and brandished his mask. “Do you not agree?” He gave her a winning smile.
She blushed. “Indeed, sir, you look most...presentable.”
In a wounded tone, Rafe said, “Only presentable?” He sighed dramatically. “And here I’d hoped to be all that is dashing and fashionable.”
Osanne laughed. “Flirt,” she accused.
Rafe darted a glance at her, his lips twisting in suppressed amusement, before returning his attention to the housekeeper.