Page 13 of Mistress of Misfortune

Chapter 4

The sound of thunder rattling the windows roused Meredith to open her eyes. After lunching with her the colonel had left her to rest, promising to return to check on her. If he did she could not remember; her slumber had been deep and undisturbed.

As she glanced at the darkened window she saw the flash of lightning, and grimaced. Renwick and the surrounding countryside enjoyed a mild climate, so even an unseasonable storm was generally of short duration. For such a tempest to last for hours would be the talk of the village.

Meredith rose carefully and, feeling no pain from her head, carefully removed the poultice tied to it. Once she plucked the remaining hairpins from their perilous positions she combed her fingers through her messy locks. Without a maid to assist her she would have to resort to the style of her schoolroom days, she decided, and divided her hair into three parts before weaving them into a thick braid, which she pinned over the lump.

My dear girl, he will think you very pretty however your hair is arranged.

Meredith turned her head, but saw no one in the room. For the first time since coming inside the house she felt a tremor of fear. “Who is there? Colonel? Show yourself.”

That I fear I cannot do. One of the curtains by the window lifted slowly before wafting back into place. But I do wish to thank you for admiring The Garden Room. I commissioned it as a tribute to my late wife. Often I came here to sit and think of her in her own gardens. She did so love her flowers.

The air suddenly seemed very chilly now, making her shiver. “Who are you?”

Emerson Thorne, my dear. I built this place.

“No. You cannot be here.” Meredith’s heart pounded, and she pressed the heels of her hands against her ears. “No one is speaking to me. It is the lump on my head, nothing more.”

I am not here, I suppose, the voice mused. Nor am I anywhere else, it would seem.

“I do not believe in ghosts.” As she spoke, she saw her breath puff out white with each word. She shut her eyes tightly. “Please, go away.”

Even if I wished to, I cannot. The ruins I had removed before they built the house may have been haunted,the unseen man said. When they invaded the Normans killed all of the poor souls who dwelled here. Perhaps they conspired to keep me here as punishment for desecrating their resting place. I should thank them for that, for there is no place I should rather abide for eternity, Miss Starling.

Miss Starling.

“Miss Starling.”

Meredith opened her eyes to see Colonel Thorne standing over her. When he repeated her name a third time she smiled with relief. “Hello. You are not a ghost.”

“Not yet.” He pressed his hand over her forehead. “You are flushed. Do you feel feverish?”

“Not at all.” The gentleness of his touch contrasted sharply with his severe expression. “I had the strangest conversation just now.”

“Indeed.” Thorne pressed the backs of his fingers against her cheek. “Of whom did you dream?”

“Mr. Emerson Thorne, your ancestor. Or rather, his ghost.” It seemed utterly fantastic to Meredith that she had spoken with the very first master of Dredthorne Hall. “When you came in, was that curtain over there dancing about in a strange manner? Of course, it wasn't,” she said before he could reply. “The windows are closed, and curtains do not dance. You must think me ridiculous.”

“I think,” Thorne said in a softer tone, “hitting your head has jumbled your thoughts.” He glanced around her. “Where is the poultice?”

Meredith lifted her hand to touch her hair. “Not on my head, apparently.” Her fingers shook as she reached back and felt the braid pinned there. Had she plaited it in her sleep? It could not be so. “I’m sure someone was here. Perhaps one of your men thought to play a joke.”

“They’ve all spent the last hour having their evening meal together.” He drew her hand away from her head. “You had a bad dream, Miss Starling. Nothing more.”

“You found me sleeping?” When he nodded Meredith let out a sigh, and then saw the pity in his gaze. “As it happens, I am feeling quite recovered.” She sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Would you permit me downstairs?”

“That is why I am here,” he told her. “I thought you might like to join me for dinner.” He glanced down at her toes. “Will you allow me to assist you with replacing your slippers?”

“I’d be most grateful.” She would keep her composure and stop inviting his pity, Meredith thought, watching Thorne kneel before her and attend to the task. “Will we be enjoying food from India tonight?”

“I do favor their breakfast dishes,” Thorne told her. “For dinner, I am more of a traditionalist. Cook has prepared some roasted ham and potatoes.” He stood and offered her his hand.

Meredith held it only until she stood, but once she released him he caught her arm and tucked it through his. “I can walk without falling again, Colonel.” She hoped.

“Indulge me, Miss Starling,” he said. “Too many years have passed since I had the honor of escorting a young lady to dinner.”

“Another reason to join Renwick society,” she chided as he led her from the room. “Your services as an escort and table companion will be in great demand.”