She pulled away from him, horrified. “Oh, don’t say that!”
“No. Sorry.” He cast her a weak smile.
They pushed their way through the undergrowth as the track narrowed.
“Do you think this leads anywhere?” she asked with a yawn.
“Let’s keep going. We have little choice.” He tried to locate the morning sun to get his bearings, but the trees formed a solid canopy above them.
As he began to fear they’d made a grave error, the trees thinned. With a joyful cry, Harry spied the road. Laughing together, they pushed through the shrubbery, emerging onto the road.
It was still a fair hike down to the village. In the early morning haze, the air was light and fresh, the grass wet with early dew. Harry’s mouth felt bone-dry, and his stomach rumbled. But they had escaped a grim fate of being forever trapped in those underground tunnels. And the ghosts had done little more than frighten them. What awaited them at home now concerned him more.
“Do you think Lady Margaret is at peace now?” Cecily asked, her shoulders sagging as they walked along.
“I like to think so.”
She smiled at him. “I do, too.”
He squeezed her hand. “And Margaret came to our aid.”
“Yes, she did.”
They trudged on wearily in silence.
“My mother doesn’t believe in ghosts,” Cecily said after a while.
He suspected it worried Cecily a lot.
“Neither does my father,” he said. “We need to get our story straight.”
“What will we tell them?” she asked with an anxious grimace.
“That we merely wished to visit the castle, but the caretaker accidentally shut us in. It isn’t exactly a lie,” he added gently.
“No, I suppose not. I’ve never lied to my mother. Writing that letter is the worst thing I’ve ever done.”
“You’ve fallen into bad company, my girl.” He grinned.
Cecily giggled.
An hour and a half later, they reached the outskirts of the village, still too early for many to be about except for the milkman and his cart, his horse waiting patiently.
Harry accompanied Cecily to her front door.
Before she could knock, it flew open. Her mother stared at them, red-eyed. “Where have you been…”
“Allow me to…” Harry went to whip off his hat, then realized he’d lost it somewhere in the dungeon. Mrs. Dunstable glared at him over Cecily’s shoulder. “You…you rake,” she cried. “Go home. Your father will deal with you.”
“But Mother…” Cecily had no time to say more before her mother swept her into the house and slammed the door shut.
Harry ran his hands through his hair. He would not leave Cecily to deal with this. He jumped the fence and strode up to his parents’ door. His mother answered his knock, the relief on her face soon turning to consternation and, worse, disappointment. “Harry, where have you been?” She gasped. “We thought something dreadful had happened to both of you.”
“No, as you see, I am quite well, as is Cecily, but…”
“You kept Cecily out all night? How could you, Harry? You were not brought up to behave in such a fashion.”
“It wasn’t intentional, Mother.” Harry sighed. “Where is Father?”
