13. Chapter 13 #2
“Really, Mrs. Danby.” Mrs. Harrington tsked. “You cannot be so obtuse. We all know that this is a game to be played and won. No one is guaranteed anything in the marriage mart.”
My cheeks flamed with heat as I glanced at Ames and Brant. Even though they were aware of why the young women had come to Pickering Castle, it was another thing to be so open and blatant about it.
Thankfully, they continued their serious conversation without looking our way.
“Please,” I said, “I would rather we discuss something else. It is my hope that everyone has a pleasant time this month, and that is all.”
Mrs. Danby looked like she had sucked on a sour lemon, but she kept her mouth closed.
“Besides,” Mrs. Harrington said with a sigh, “it looks like both our girls are taken with the third-born son.”
Laughter came from Collins, Ruth, and Sarah as the kite took a dangerous nosedive toward the sandy beach, not far from Everett and Martha, who laughed and talked as they meandered down the beach in search of seashells.
“We shall see about that.” Mrs. Danby motioned for a footman to assist her off the blanket. As soon as she was on her feet, she moved toward her daughter.
Nighttime fell over Pickering Castle that evening, and with it, a cool wind had begun to breathe across the moors again, offering a respite from the heat.
On the second night of the house party, early nerves had faded, and real merriment had begun. At least for Collins, Davis, Everett, and our young female guests. Ames and Brant remained uninterested, and the chaperones, minus Miss Beth Townsend, were still at odds with one another.
The outing to Ravenscar Beach had been exactly what we needed, though.
Just as I had hoped, Everett and Martha had enjoyed their time together, searching for seashells, and had brought back a bag full of them.
Their easy conversation had spilled over to the supper table, where Everett sat beside Martha.
He’d been given the option to escort Mrs. Harrington into the dining room, with Ruth on his other side, but he’d declined and said he wanted more time with Martha.
I had shaken my head when Collins’s look of triumph over Ruth had faded, and he began to pay a little more attention to Martha.
After supper, Brant agreed to play the piano as the rest of us danced in the music room.
Ames only danced with me, but Collins, Davis, and Everett took turns with each of our guests.
Mrs. Talmadge surprised all of us by being the most adept dancer among the group.
She never tired or asked to sit out a song, and when she wasn’t dancing, her toes were tapping to the sound of the music.
It was past midnight when the house party finally went to bed. I wasn’t as exhausted as I had been the night before, and linked arms with Ames as we made our way to my bedchamber.
“Thank you for coming to the beach today,” I told him. “It wouldn’t have been the same without you.”
“Do you know what my favorite part of today was?” he asked me as he opened my bedchamber door.
I shook my head.
“Right now. When it’s just the two of us.”
I laughed as I stepped into the room. “Just the two of us once Molly leaves, you mean.”
He kissed me and said, “I’ll come back once she’s gone.”
As he walked across the hall to his room and his waiting valet, I closed the door and turned to find Molly preparing my nighttime toilette.
She had been quiet since last night when I’d discovered her and Brant together. Her face was pale and the sparkle in her eyes had faded. I hated seeing her this way. Love was supposed to be exciting and fun—yet for so many people, love turned into suffering and disappointment.
I wanted to say something to reassure her that everything would work out fine, but I could not make such a promise to her.
Without a word, Molly began to help me undress and prepare for bed.
As we worked, the wind turned from a gentle breeze to a gusting force, rattling the panes.
I shivered, though the day had been exceedingly warm, and wondered what Ames would do.
This was the first night the wind had blown with such intensity since he’d started to sleep in my room.
Would he return to the music room to play piano?
Or would he be content to stay with me? Thankfully, our guests were on the other side of the castle and if he wanted to play, the music wouldn’t bother them.
Molly didn’t meet my gaze in the mirror as she stood behind me and braided my hair after I was in my nightgown.
I watched her, wondering what she would do.
If I had been in her shoes, I wasn’t certain I could stay and watch the man I loved move on with his life.
When Patrick had rejected me, I had done everything in my power to avoid him.
It was the only way I could forget about him—and even then, I had spent far too many months in agony.
“If there was something I could do,” I said to Molly, unable to stand her silence any longer, “I would.”
Her lips began to quiver, and she nodded as she blinked rapidly and tied a red ribbon on the bottom of my braid.
But still she didn’t speak.
“I’m sorry, Molly,” I tried again as she walked away from me and started to pick up the things we’d dropped along the way. “I understand. Truly.”
Somewhere beneath the persistent wind came a low, mournful moaning—a sound I recognized, though its source still eluded me. Molly paused and glanced toward the hallway as if hearing it for the first time.
“Do you hear that?” I asked her.
She nodded.
“Have you heard it before?”
“No.” She frowned. “What is it?”
“I don’t know. It almost sounds like it’s coming from inside the walls of the castle. I hear it each time the wind howls like this.”
“Is it the wind, then?” she asked.
Shrugging, I rose from the bench where I was sitting. “I don’t know. It comes and goes but doesn’t seem to follow the pattern of the wind.”
Her gaze met mine as her eyes rounded. “Is that—is that the Wailing Duchess, then?”
I quickly shook my head. “I don’t believe in such things.”
“Whether you believe in them or not doesn’t mean they’re not real.”
“Good night, Molly.” I wanted to change the subject and speak to my husband.
She picked up a few remaining items and then left through the dressing room door.
A couple minutes later, while I was sitting on a chair, looking out the window to the dark moors, there was a knock at the door connecting my bedchamber to Ames’s.
“Come in.”
The moaning sound echoed through the room and he paused, a strange look on his face.
“Have you never heard that noise before?” I asked him.
“Yes, but never this loud. It is muted in other parts of the castle.”
“What is it?”
“The wind.”
“That does not sound like the wind, Ames.”
“It’s the wind rushing through the secret passageways in the castle.”
I frowned. “What do you mean?”
He joined me near the window and took a seat on the chair opposite me.
“I never realized how loud it was in this room. Now I understand why my mother hated the wind on the moors. She said it drove her to distraction. I think it was one of the reasons she and my father fought more on nights like this.”
“Perhaps this is the sound attributed to the Wailing Duchess. If it’s loudest in this chamber, then all the previous duchesses had to hear it.”
“Perhaps.” He clasped his hands together, his shoulders tense. He rose and restlessly paced to the fireplace and back and forth.
“What’s wrong?” I stood to intercept him, placing my hands on his chest.
He captured my hands in his. “I’m sorry, Lily. Would you mind terribly if I played piano tonight?”
I smiled, masking my own unease. “Of course not.”
He gave me a kiss and said, “I’ll return later.” He started to walk out of my room but then turned and said, “Would you like to sleep in my bedchamber tonight? So the sound doesn’t bother you?”
“I would.”
“I’ll meet you there.”
And with that, he was gone.
The sound of piano music filled our part of the castle a few minutes later.
I stood near my bedchamber door, listening, until the moaning sound started again. Frowning, I took a candelabra from my room and walked into the hallway. How would wind get into the secret passageway, and why would it only make that sound on occasion?
Slowly, I opened the secret door that Ames and I had taken from the rooftop—but the sound was not coming from there. The only other door into the passage that I knew of was near the library, on the main level.
My curiosity could not be contained, so I walked down the stairwell and moved toward the library.
The piano music was louder here, but Ames would not see me unless he came out of the music room.
I couldn’t remember exactly which panel hid the doorway, so I gently pressed each one until the correct panel gave way under my hand and swung open.
The wind rushed at me, causing two of the candles on my candelabra to extinguish. The moaning noise became louder, telling me that I’d found the right passageway. But where did the tunnel go?
Old, dusty cobwebs clung to the wooden walls and ceiling, which looked like they had been built many centuries ago. Ames had said the passageways were dangerous, but if Brant and Molly used this one, it would have to be safe, wouldn’t it?
The distant sound of voices echoed through the passageway, as if they were moving away from me and not toward me. Was it Brant and Molly again?
Sending a glance over my shoulder to make sure no one had seen me, I leaned into the passageway and shined my candelabra to the left and to the right.
It was one long, narrow passage, no more than six feet tall and two feet wide.
Just enough space for a person to walk through.
The wind was coming from the left, where the voices were trailing.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the passage, relieved when it felt sturdy beneath my feet, and slowly walked toward the sound of voices.