“Didn’t you hear Lady Paget? She’s been carrying on about her room being haunted. All because her candle went out by itself, and because there are high winds making noise outside. What does she expect? We’re in an ancient building on a hilltop in the middle of winter!”
“Her candle went out by itself?”
“So she says. I’m sure it was caused by a perfectly mundane draught.” Mrs Bloomfield gave her a tired smile.
“Should we go and console her?”
“I doubt it would help at this point. Her most effective consolation came courtesy of a large glass of port.”
Camellia bade Mrs Bloomfield good-night, and turned back to her door. But as she did, she caught sight of Finn walking down the hall from the other direction. He was fully dressed in his evening clothes. It was after three in the morning and he hadn’t gone to bed. Where had he been?
“Mr Ryder, did Lady Paget’s scream wake you?” she asked politely, even though it was obvious he hadn’t been asleep.
“No. I’ve been in the library. Reading. Did she wake you?” he asked.
“I was already awake. I thought I heard wolves outside.”
“Impossible, Miss Swift. Wolves no longer live in Britain. They were hunted to extinction.”
“Then what could I have heard? It wasn’t the estate’s dogs!”
“I promise you it wasn’t wolves. The wind makes strange sounds in the winter,” he added, very reasonably.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better about returning to bed.”
He gave her a wicked little smile. “There’s nothing that would give me greater pleasure than seeing you safely to bed.”
“Sir!” she gasped, half shocked…and half intrigued. “One kiss does not give you such privileges as to…”
“…flirt with you? Am I so objectionable? Are my attentions so disgusting?”
“Oh, no. That’s not what I meant,” she said quickly. “I don’t think you’re…objectionable or disgusting at all.”
“Such praise,” he said drily. “I’d better quit while I’m ahead. Good night, Miss Swift. Sweet dreams.”
Seeing his expression of amusement made her want to flee, but she made herself walk calmly back to her bedroom. She chanced a look back and saw his ironic smile before she went into her room and slammed the door shut.
* * * *
The winds continued to whistle through the night, leaving Camellia restless and robbed of sleep. The next morning brought no improvement in the weather. Sleeting winds battered the castle walls. Nevertheless, Lady Paget had all her trunks in the front foyer while she braced herself with strong coffee in the breakfast room. The Fitzgeralds and several guests were there. The mood was rather tense.
“I thank you for the hospitality, Miss Fitzgerald,” she was saying to Hortense, “but I am leaving today.”
“You cannot travel! Look at the weather.”
“I must not stay here. Those cries in the night! Horrible.”
“It’s just the Wild Hunt, my lady,” Mr Fitzgerald said soothingly. “You’re safer inside than out, if the Hunters are abroad.”
“Papa, don’t tease her,” Hortense chided.
Lady Paget’s eyes widened. “What’s the Wild Hunt?”
“Papa is being silly. It’s just a legend from these parts,” Hortense said.
“From the old Welsh stories, long before this castle was even built.” Surprisingly, it was Finn who spoke up. He moved closer to Lady Paget, who appeared suddenly captivated by him.
He continued, “The sound you heard was the baying of the hounds of Herne. He’s the leader of the Wild Hunt. His hounds look like silver ghosts, and they are finer than any earthly beast. He’s joined in the Hunt by fairies and the souls of the dead.”
