And so there was Edgar as he was and Edgar as he might have been—the dark rider.
It was in many ways a dull day, though Dinah was too deep in thought to feel great boredom. Apart fromthe morning ride and the afternoon visit, there was thestroll about the courtyard with Lady Asquith, whoclaimed to feel too fatigued from her morning work towalk farther. And hours of embroidery and conversation indoors. And the chance to play the pianoforte inthe music room for almost an hour.
She scarcely saw Lord Asquith except at meal times. Even after dinner he disappeared, reappearing only todisturb the quiet coziness of the evening by frowningand then smiling brightly as if he had just realized thathe should and looking rather as if his nerve endingswere poking through his skin. He jumped quite visiblywhen a footman came into the drawing room with thetea tray and bumped it rather noisily against the door,and then he barked at the poor man, who turned asred in the face as a strawberry.
“Well, Dinah,’’ Lord Asquith said when the tea tray was removed again later, “it is time for bed. May Iescort you to your room?”
It was a cheering prospect. Five whole minutes alone with him. But as they ascended the stairs in silenceafter saying good night to Lady Asquith, she felt embarrassment at the memory of having to be taken backto her room the night before. And his mind was clearly preoccupied with something else.
“I think, Edgar,” she said, “you are afraid that all the ghosts will come out tonight.”
“Am I?” he said, rewarding her with his first real smile of the evening. “And you too? Would you liketo have your maid sleep in your room?”
“There is a very heavy woolen blanket on my bed,” she said. “I think that it will provide sufficient protection if I pull it up about my head.”
He smiled again and took both her hands in his as they stopped outside her door. “Sleep well, then,” hesaid. “And don’t be afraid. There are not really anysuch things as ghosts, you know.”
“You have changed tactics,” she said. “You think that if you tell me in that very serious tone that thereare no ghosts I will start to wonder if perhaps you aretrying to save me from a well-founded fear. And consequently my heart will thump with terror all nightlong.”
He laughed and lowered his head. “Dinah,” he said, “you are such a delight. Let me kiss you.”
“You did not ask my permission last night,” shesaid, her heart beginning really to thump, though notwith terror.
“That was not a kiss,” he said, releasing her handsand setting his own at her waist. “That was a mere meeting of lips.”
“There is a difference?” she asked.
“There is a difference.” He drew her lightly against him and touched his mouth to hers, his lips slightlyparted.
The first part of her to react was her knees. They felt decidedly wobbly, so that she had to lean into himand spread her hands against the reassuring solidity ofhis chest. And then it was her temperature. It soaredso that she might have wondered whether she hadsomehow contracted the measles after all if she hadbeen able to think that clearly.
“Witch!” he said, raising his head after a wonderfully lengthy embrace. “This is an appropriate night for our first proper kiss, Dinah.”
“Our first?” she said and then could have bitten out her tongue. It was as if she were angling for the promise of more.
“Our first,” he said, laying one forefinger along the length of her nose, “but not our last if I have anythingto say in the matter. Good night, Dinah.”
And he opened her door and gestured as he had the night before for her to enter. And as he had done thenight before, he closed the door behind her so that shewas left staring vaguely and stupidly at the woodenpanels, wondering how many kisses there would bebetween the first and the last and hoping there wouldbe too many to count.
Or perhaps he was teasing her again, toying with her.
She turned around to face the room and addressed the sad lady with some severity. “You hadthat?”shesaid, gesturing behind her to the closed door and whathad just taken place beyond it. “And yet for almosttwo centuries you have been too faint-hearted to goafter more? When he loves you so deeply and so constantly? You are foolish indeed. And now you are fading away, almost decided that you will be done withhim and with happiness for good and all. Well, all Ican say is that you will have created your own hellwhen that happens. There will be no blaming the devilor a harsh Judgment Day. Only yourself. If you wanthappiness, you must seize it. Now! Perhaps in anotherfew years or decades it will be forever too late.”
The sad lady did not reply, and Dinah was left frowning fiercely at emptiness.
She awoke feeling so sad that there was pain. She had been crying, she realized, reaching up a hand andtouching the wetness of her cheeks. She had beendreaming. Edgar had been sitting on the side of herbed and leaning over her, brushing back the hair fromher face with a warm and gentle hand. And then hehad kissed her as lightly and as lingeringly as he haddone when he escorted her to her room—and withparted lips again so that it had seemed a marvelouslyintimate kiss despite its lightness.
There had been more, too. He had undone the buttons of her nightgown and slid his hand inside, along the flesh below her shoulder just above her breast. Evenin her dream she had not dared imagine his hand moving lower, though she realized now that both breastswere peaked and almost painful to the touch.
She felt infinitely sad. Two more hot tears spilled over and ran diagonally down her cheeks as she laywith closed eyes trying to recapture the dream. But ithad been a wonderful dream, if somewhat lascivious.Why had it made her so sad? Was there part of it that she could not remember? Had he said something? Hismouth and his hand had been tender. Surely he couldnot have said anything to contradict what they had toldher.
But no, of course, she thought, and she opened her eyes. The terrible sadness did not come from the dreamor from inside herself. It came from the room. It wasall about her, a drenching sadness and longing that hadpenetrated even her sleep and her pleasant dream.
If the sad lady was fading away, she had made a full reappearance for All Hallows’ Eve. Dinah could feelall the agony of her indecision and longing, of hertimidity that she could not make up her mind to convert into boldness. And if the agony was so intense,Dinah thought, then the lady must be being enticedagain. The dark rider must be there outside.
The thought made her realize fully that she had been sleeping when she had intended to wait up for him.Her heart beating with excitement, almost as if it wereshe he was coming for instead of the sad lady, sheswung her legs over the side of the bed and darted tothe window. And yet she did not have to pull aside thecurtains. They were half opened already. But they hadbeen closed when she came to bed, Dinah thought,stopping short of the window. She knew because shehad had to pull one aside to gaze out into the darknessand had been very careful afterward to lap one overthe other so that no chink of light would show betweenthem in the morning.
Her heart beat a little faster and she stepped forward to occupy the narrow space that would give her a viewout. She looked down, almost afraid that he would notbe there and that she would have to admit that her imagination had become overactive.
