‘Quiet!’ It was Hester, managing a voice of absolute authority despite being in the middle of scrambling to her feet with her hair in a tangle, her feet bare and her nightgown hitched up to her knees. A wave of pride in her washed over him, warring with a stab of lust. ‘Be quiet, everyone-we found the ghost and now it’s gone and we have to search.’
Guy took the opportunity to remove the poker from Susan’s grip and scoop up the scabbard from the floor before it tripped anyone else up. ‘Stay behind me, please-and, as Miss Lattimer says-be quiet!’ He took Miss Prudhome’s candle and glanced into the dining room. Empty. That left the kitchen, although by now a troop of cavalry could have unbolted the door and made their escape.
But not only was the kitchen empty, but the bolts were shut, the door still firmly locked, the windows closed and latched. The only sign of the intruder was the trail down the hall of dead roses and the drops of Guy’s blood that marked the way it had fled towards the kitchen.
Guy, with Susan dogged at his heels, searched the dining room again, looked in every nook and cranny of the kitchen and scullery, even opened the door of the longcase clock and peered inside, but he found nothing. But then he had not expected to-whoever was getting into the Moon House, they were not coming in through the door.
* * *
Hester left them to search, instead filling a kettle from the scullery pump and banging it down on the range. ‘Fetch the poker from his lordship, would you, please, Maria? I don’t know about you, but I need a cup of tea.’
By the time the searchers returned, predictably empty handed, the tea was brewing and Maria was buttering bread. ‘Bread and butter is very soothing in a crisis, I always find.’
Guy made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort of amusement, but Hester was too concerned with the state of him to join in the joke. Now they had lit all the kitchen candles his face, covered in scratches and streaked with blood, looked horrifying.
‘Guy, your face! Come and sit down and let me sponge it.’ Hester tipped hot water from the kettle into a bowl, seized a petticoat that had been drying by the fire, ripped a handful of cloth from it and advanced on him. ‘Now, sit down here and let me see. Did anything go in your eyes?’ She bent over him, tipping his chin up in one determined hand in much the same way as she would have with Jethro.
‘No, ma’am,’ he said with unaccustomed meekness.
‘Are you sure? Are you hurt anywhere else? Your breathing sounds very heavy.’ She tipped his face up some more, and carefully inspected the scratches, their noses almost touching. Now there was no mistaking the wicked twinkle in his eyes.
‘I am labouring under a great deal of stress, Miss Lattimer.’
Hester dropped the cloth back in the bowl and handed him a dry piece with a reproving look. Her own heart rate had accelerated to an uncomfortable degree.
‘Have a cup of tea, my lord,’ Maria urged, mercifully missing the by-play. ‘I am sure that will make you feel better. Then I will fetch the basilicum powder.’
‘Thank you, Miss Prudhome.’ He gave the chaperon a look of such docility that Hester could have boxed his ears.
‘There are only ten tonight,’ Susan said, dumping an armful of roses on the kitchen table. ‘Fourteen the first night, twelve the next…’
‘It started with the new moon.’ Hester made her voice steady with a struggle. ‘It happens every second night, and each time there are two fewer. By the time of the full moon there will be none. And at the full moon-’ She broke off, unable to repeat the nonsense Miss Nugent had spouted.
‘At the full moon, what?’ Susan was wide eyed.
‘Nothing, just some nonsense Miss Nugent says she found in an old manuscript.’
‘Tell us,’ Guy commanded. He glanced round at the other women. ‘I suspect that Sir Lewis and Miss Nugent may be hoping to alarm Miss Lattimer into reselling the house to them. I would like to hear what taradiddles they have concocted.’
‘You think they are breaking into the house?’ Hester found it incredible as soon as she said it. ‘Respectable members of local society?’
‘I am respectable, and you had no trouble believing me the culprit,’ Guy pointed out with a grin. ‘Now, what is supposed to happen at the full moon?’
‘The evil in the house will wax with the moon, and then when it is full… Oh, this is such fustian, it isn’t worth repeating!’
‘Go on, Miss Hester,’ Susan urged. ‘You can’t not tell us now, imagining is much worse.’
‘Very well, if you must have it. When the moon is full, Death walks.’
There was silence as the four of them absorbed this. Then into the stillness they heard the dragging footsteps coming down the hall. Four pairs of eyes turned to the door, which slowly began to creak open.
Guy got to his feet, gesturing with his hand for silence. With a muffled squeak Miss Prudhome clutched Susan and Hester found herself standing, her hand on Guy’s arm.
The door opened to reveal a white-clad figure and, with a sigh, Miss Prudhome slid to the floor in a dead faint.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘Jethro!’ Hester released her hold on Guy’s arm and went to take the unsteady figure by the elbow. ‘What on earth are you doing down here at this hour in the morning? You scared us all to death! Oh dear, Susan, is Miss Prudhome all right?’