Chapter Nine

L ouisa watched him react to her statement. Denial, disbelief, anger. She saw all of those things flash by. That they knew one another so little and still she could read him so clearly was both strange and comforting.

At last, he demanded of her, "Why would you say such a thing?"

Louisa took a deep breath and prepared to tell him the strange truth. "All of my life, I've had a certain instinctive understanding of when I am in danger... and of who is dangerous. I've trusted those instincts, and that have never steered me wrong. The first day that I was here, when you left me in the library, I felt this strange chill. The air wasn't just cold, but it moved and undulated. Surrounding me. And while I was startled, I didn't feel threatened."

"That is hardly proof," he said skeptically.

"It happened again that night in my room, when I saw the figure in white."

"Then what you saw could not have been Caroline—"

"No," she concurred. "It was not. What I saw was a living, breathing person with actual form. Of that, I am entirely certain. And I have a suspicion of who that person was. But first, I need to tell you about my encounter with Caroline today."

That was greeted with stony silence. Then after a moment, a curt nod. It was clear that he was far from convinced. Still, Louisa continued. "I did have a bit of a nap this morning. When I awakened, it was to that same strange cold sensation. The window was open, but it's terribly hot outside. There is not even a hint of a breeze. And yet that cold air was whirling about me. And I decided that there must be a reason for it. So I told this spirit to lead me to what it wanted. And it did."

"How?"

"First was a thump on the wall beside the door. Then the curtains stirred at the end of the hall. I took that turn. Then outside what I assume had been Caroline's room, a puff of dust came from beneath the door… perfectly silhouetted against the light so that I might see it."

"Again, that is not proof."

"No. But of all the rooms in this house for me to wander into, isn't it strange that the one I discovered was hers? And that while I was in that room, the secret drawer beneath the writing table simply sprang open and revealed all that you see here... her journal, the letters that the two of you exchanged."

"So you think Caroline's ghost has contacted you because she's jealous?"

Louisa shook her head. "Not at all. I think she's reaching out because she thinks I am in danger... the same sort of danger she was in, because Terrence was the one who killed her."

Silence filled the small room. He didn't say a word. Louisa kept waiting for him to have some explosion of temper, or worse, to simply laugh in her face. But ultimately, she decided that his silence might be worse. "Say something, for heaven's sake," she admonished after it became intolerable.

"That is quite a leap. You spent a great deal of your formative years surrounded by those with criminal intent, and it has colored your perception of the world. What reason would Terrence have to kill Caroline?"

Louisa spread her hands. "To prevent you marrying her and having an heir. Had you married your uncle's ward, there is little question that the outcome of your uncle's will would not have changed, even if the contingencies within it did. The fortune would have been yours, and he would have nothing. And now, because we have married, he is at risk of losing everything once more. Do you think it a coincidence that he showed up here on the same day we married? That he stood there next to his fresh, well-rested horse and told us he'd ridden all the way from London just this morning? If I spent too much time around the criminally intended, Douglas, you have spent too little."

*

He wanted to deny all of it. Not because it was unbelievable, but because it was entirely believable. Not wanting a thing to be true did not make it so. If he'd stayed there, married Caroline when they were younger and not left to join the army, would she have still been alive? Had Terrence really killed her? He wished that he could so easily deny the claim, but he had little doubt his cousin was capable of such a thing. The question was whether or not there had been opportunity.

"What have you gleaned from reading her letters and journals?" There was a bite to his tone, one that he could not help. It felt like an invasion of privacy, but then, they were now married and privacy was very much a thing of the past. How could he resent it if what she said was true? He'd never encountered a ghost or apparition. At least, he hadn't to his knowledge, but he couldn't outright deny that such things existed when his uncle had been such a firm believer. Indeed, the entirety of Pluckley believed it. And if ever there was a rational source for such accounts, surely it would be Louisa Blackwell nee Jones.

"I haven't read them. I did read the half-finished letter that she'd been in the middle of writing to you. When I realized who the letters were intended for and who they had likely come from, I felt it wasn't my place to read them. I have looked at her journal a bit, but only to flip through it until I could find the last entries... the events leading up to her death."

"They were fairly innocent," he admitted. Then wryly added, "But not entirely."

"We are not in love. We were not married or betrothed at that time. Our worlds were completely separate, and our paths had never crossed. There is no betrayal in this, and there is no jealousy. You had a life before we met. Likely one that involved more women than simply Caroline Farris. And I daresay when our year is up, there will be women after we part ways," she offered with a very matter-of-fact shrug.

It irked him—the notion that she was completely unbothered by the idea of him with another. And while it had been his wish to live apart, he wanted her to be at least somewhat aggrieved by the fact. "Indeed. You are remarkably rational about these matters, and that is why I find your account of your interactions with this spirit to be credible. But I would hope that it is not Caroline. I would hope that she has found peace."

"Perhaps this is why she is not yet at peace," she suggested. "If we can uncover the truth of the events surrounding her death, it might ease her soul."

Moving towards the table where she sat, he took the chair next to her and began perusing the assorted letters. Most of them were innocent. A few of them hinted at the passionate kisses he had shared with Caroline. But mindful of how innocent she had been, things between them had never progressed beyond that.

He had often written back to Caroline on the same stationery she had sent to him, turning it sideways and writing overtop of and in between her large, flowery scrawl. It seemed as though a century had passed between that time and the present. He certainly felt a century older.

"What children we were," he mused.

Louisa opened the journal, turning it to the last entry and passing it to him. "That is the most damning entry."

Picking it up, he scanned the entry. And his blood ran cold.

Loathsome Terrence has come home. No doubt he's heard that Douglas and I intend to marry when he returns from London next week. He's here to pester poor Uncle James about his share of the estate. If he were left all the money in England, he would manage to spend every last drop. 'Tis simply his way.

I've taken to avoiding him. I eat my meals in my room. I spend as much time as possible away from the house. I go riding. I take baskets of food to the poorest of the tenant families. Most of them will not accept it because it comes from Rosehaven. Superstitious nonsense, really. I've looked for the lady in white countless times and have yet to see her. It's likely one of the baker's shameless daughters sneaking about to meet a footman... or Terrence.

How I hope that Uncle James will give him enough money that he will once more go back to London and leave us here in peace. His presence disrupts the entire household.

The entry was dated three days before the fateful ride that had ended in Caroline's tragic fall. Six days before she died. And he hadn't realized that Terrence had been there the entire time. His cousin had told him that he'd arrived only shortly before he himself had, and he'd taken him at his word. He had been too distraught to do anything else.

"I should have been here," he said. "If I'd been here, she would not have felt the need to hide from Terrence. She would not have been without someone to protect her from him."

She shook her head. "For what it is worth, he would have simply found another way. He wanted to ensure that you were on equal bachelor footing when your uncle died. That was the only way he could be certain that the will wouldn't be changed, and he would have had allies in this house then just as he does now. The woman in white that I saw my first night here... I believe it was the maid, Fanny. I saw them together in the corridor today. They were very familiar with one another, and not simply in the liberties he was taking. Beyond that, they seemed to be well-known to one another."

He knew the maid she spoke of, and he also knew that the girl had only come to work there six months earlier. The butler had stated she was his niece, though that had always seemed a rather dubious claim. To his knowledge, the man had never acknowledged having any family at all.

"Then we send her packing immediately."

"If we do that," she protested, "then we give up any advantage we have. For the time being, until we know precisely what he's planning, we need to go on as if nothing has been discovered about his past crimes."

"So we just pretend to be lost in newly wedded bliss and oblivious to everything else going on?" he asked.

Louisa's answering blush told him, without her needing to say a word, that she was thinking of the kiss they had shared that morning. It had never been far from his mind. Even when he'd been tending to other things, that awareness of her, of how much that simple kiss had stirred his desire for her, had been ever present.

"I think bliss might be a bit of a stretch. After all, everyone is fully aware of your reasons for marrying me," she replied.

"What the world thinks of us isn't important, Louisa. All that matters, at least for the next twelve months, is how we deal with one another. I want to kiss you again, but only if you want that too."

She was silent for a moment, staring into his eyes. Whatever she saw there must have swayed her, because she simply launched herself into his arms. And he was selfish enough to accept all that she offered.