"Just so," Oliver nodded. "In that land, the sky is green and the grass is blue. We take our breakfast at midnight and supper at dawn. It's a place of grand absurdities."
"Sounds like a rather inconvenient place to live," Theodore commented, laughing.
"It is a grand place," Oliver said, looking over at Alethea. "But now I am here in Redhaven, where the Ghostly Duchess haunts us all."
It was a subtle prompt for Alethea, signaling that it was her turn now.
"Well, then," Alethea gathered herself. "I suppose, if I am a ghost, then I must have died, mustn't I?"
"Naturally," Oliver nodded, dropping into a nearby armchair.
"Well then," Alethea cleared her throat, "I.."
"Let your imagination run wild," Oliver suggested, noticing her hesitance.
So she took his advice. But instead of fantastical lands, her mind instead went to a rather dark place.
"I lived here once, long ago," she started, "When I was alive, this was my home. But I was not a well-behaved daughter."
She hadn't intended to say that; the words simply spilled out, and at once she imagined a stern faceless figure of a father glowering down at her. In reality, her memories of her real father were nearly nonexistent, but in nightmares she often gave him the features of the cruel headmaster from the nunnery.
"I disobeyed my father," she went on, trying to keep her tone light, "One night I did something I should not."
There were gasps, and it was reassuring that her story was coming across as engaging.
"My father was very angry with me," she continued, losing herself in the storytelling process as well, "So I ran away and hid in the woods, right beyond the garden. It was a stormy night, and terribly dark."
Alethea's heart thudded. She realized the rest of them had gone quite still, all except Clara who was nibbling her lip.
No, I mustn't scare them.
"But the next morning, the storm passed. I crept back to the house, fearful of what punishment might await. And I found my father searching for me."
"Alethea," Oliver tried to interrupt, casting a worried glance in direction.
No, her story was getting too dark. She could see the worried faces of the little girls staring back at her.
"He was so worried that I had been lost. When he saw me, he swept me into his arms and…" her tone did not sound so convincing anymore, but she had to lighten the story, "And forgave me at once for disobeying. I was not in trouble after all."
She paused to swallow against a lump growing in her throat. Why did saying those words make her chest ache? She had never known such forgiveness.
"All was well again," she continued softly, shaking off her thoughts. "Or so we thought. Because that very afternoon, I ventured out for a walk under the open sky to celebrate the fine weather, and a bolt from the heavens struck me down on the spot."
Theodore gasped while Oliver straightened, eyebrows lifted.
"And that," Alethea concluded, "is how I became the wandering spirit of this house."
Her story was met with silence at first. Alethea could feel the duke's gaze still resting on her.
She wondered if she had said too much. Did he sense the kernel of truth buried in her story?
"My turn, I believe," Theodore broke the tension, "Gather near, friends, and let me tell you of my journey from distant lands..."
He winked at Alethea as if to sayI'll lighten the mood.
With relief, she stepped back and let Theodore tell his own story.
"I was born in the court of Versailles. Raised among the mostrefinedladies of France. But alas, my cruel parents forbade me to marry the man I loved."
