“Nicholas?” Lady Orpington was very good.
“I don’t know his name. Except it is not Curran.”
“Franny, are you feeling well...?”
“No whist.”
“You don’t have the power, even under your own roof, to keep us from playing,” Lady Orpington calmly responded.
“Don’t anger me, Ellen. I am never good angered.”
“We are guests, and a number of us enjoy cards.”
“Then you can leave.”
“Franny,come back here. Franny, we are not done.”
Except they were. It was hard to hear footsteps on the stairs’ thick carpeting, but Beck could imagine their hostess marching away to join the ladies wherever they were.
Lady Orpington still lingered. “She is the one being ridiculous,” he heard her mutter to herself. “And we will play cards. We will,” she added childishly. Then he heard her follow Lady Middlebury with a heavy sigh.
Beck stepped out from the nook where he’d secreted himself. He was lucky that all of the servants were apparently busy with a full house so he’d not been caught.
He swiftly found the door to the outside. The grounds were lit with lamps, a nice touch and probably more of a sign of the Middlebury wealth than anything else Beck had seen.
Out in the stables, he found his man, Jem Wagner, in good spirits. A large group of drivers and stable lads sat around a fire, talking horses and swapping stories that were probably lies but good to hear.
Jem noticed Beck immediately when he made an appearance at the edge of the circle of light. He’d probably been watching for him.
They walked into the darkness.
“A good group?” Beck asked.
Jem chuckled quietly. It wasn’t lost on Beck that the tip of his friend’s nose was red, as it always was when he was a bit foxed. “Probably better than what you have up at the house.”
“I’m certain you are right. So, anything interesting?”
“We’ve been telling ghostie stories. They claim there are spirits here.”
“Such as?” Beck asked, only mildly interested.
“Did you know about a drowning years back?”
Beck’s interest was piqued. Another mention of a drowning. Or was it the same one Gwendolyn had spoken of? “The last marchioness?”
“Ah, you heard of it already, have you?”
“Only that she drowned.” Wanting to hear Jem’s telling, Beck said, “What do the servants say?”
“That she haunts the forest down by the river. After her husband died, she built a cottage on the river’s banks. That is where they say she can be heard singing...”
Wagner’s voice trailed off, tellingly. He waited a bit and then said, “They say she sings. Like the woman in your dreams.”
“Singing is a common activity, especially amongst women.”
“True,” Jem replied easily enough. “Course, I grow suspicious when I hear about a family of deaths all at one time. Did you hear about how her husband died?”
“Her husband? I heard them say he collapsed. Probably his heart.”
