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Alfred glared at her suspiciously. “Well, I have no qualms about riding home from Sherborne after dusk.”
“You are brave, what with the main pike still in a state of such disrepair,” Mandy returned sweetly.
“Well, that is naught. I shall use Abbey Road,” he scoffed.
She saw that in spite of his bravado she had managed to do what she set out to do and he was already thinking about his ride home. She sighed and said ominously, “‘Tis a good thing that you do not regard the gossip about Bolton Abbey Ruins and all its restless spirits.”
“‘Tis nothing. Bosh! What do I care for old tales! Ghosts, indeed.”
Mandy was not daunted. She had always a naughty sense of fun and rarely reined it in. “Well, as I said, you are quite brave. I for one have not gone near the ruins after dusk, not since Lady Hatfield’s recent experience.”
“Eh? Lady Hatfield’s experience?” He eyed her with growing alarm.
“I think it my duty to warn you since you are determined to take the Abbey Road at such a late hour.”
“Yes, yes, and it will be late, no doubt by the time my meeting with Celia is at an end…but do tell me, what has occurred with Lady Hatfield, for she is a st
eady woman and one must give credence to anything she might say.”
Mandy sat down opposite her cousin and leaned onto her bent knees beneath her pretty blue gown. She had always a wild imagination and gave in to it with her story, “It was already dark when Lady Hatfield’s coach with her inside passed the abbey ruins when suddenly…” Mandy shouted the last word and flung out her arms making poor Alfred jump out of his seat and hold a hand to his heart. She bade him sit and returned her voice to a whisper as she continued. “Suddenly, from over the abbey’s west wing they heard an unearthly cry. It wailed at them and cried for help. They stared through the darkness and found a wolf poised on the crumbling ledge, howling to his pack.”
“A wolf?” cried Alfred. “There are no wolves in the Dales.”
“Ah, but who is to say that for sure? But never mind, that in itself was naught. It was the fact that this wolf glowed. And faith, if that wasn’t enough to make her poor heart beat faster, there…behind it stood the burning form of someone who did not look human. It raised its arms and pointed at the coach and bellowed out a warning to all, growling something about being death…and should they come nigh he would have them.”
“Death? Have them? Not human? How can that be?” Alfred asked nervously.
“I am sure, I do not know, and Lady Hatfield asked her man to investigate the next day, but when he did, he fled the ruins, claiming that someone rattling chains, someone not of this earth reached for him…”
“Chains? Rattling…chains?” Alfred stood up.
“Indeed, and as he mounted his horse to flee, he heard the sound of a man in agony as though he were being torn to pieces by wild animals.”
“This is dreadful…dreadful…” Alfred began pacing as he obviously envisioned the situation.
“Precisely so. Lady Hatfield ordered her servants to stay away from the ruins and she refuses to even drive by it during the day. She warned me not to go near the abbey—day or night.”
Alfred gulped as he digested this and finally said, “Pray, Amanda, I have no wish to disturb your peace of mind regarding my safe journey home. I have decided to stay the night at Sherborne.”
Mandy’s mouth dropped for that had not been the end result she had been looking for when she had freely embellished Lady Hatfield’s story. “Stay here? Oh, no Alfred, you could not wish to do such a thing. Why your father will be expecting you and worry.”
“Bosh,” said Alfred. “He will assume that I have remained the night at the Halls, and at any rate, you can send a lackey to him with a message.”
“Well, Alfred, really!” snapped Mandy, glaring at him. “If you are afraid to ride home in the dark, I certainly shall not put a man out to make the trip back and forth. It is outrageous. We do not treat our servants thusly at the Halls.”
“You have an odd set of behavior with regards to your servants.” He shook his head, “Ghosts and such creatures wouldn’t bother with a lackey, but a Speenham, well, stands to reason the fiendish things would want a crack at me.”
She was so flabbergasted at this pronouncement and this way of thinking, that she did not immediately have a ready retort.
He rubbed his hands together and said, “Well, if you don’t wish to send a lackey, fine, but Amanda darling, do you think you could send for refreshments?”
Chapter Three
SIR OWEN TURNDALE wandered carefully down the deer path that dissected the woods surrounding the lily pond. His thoughts were at war with his heart.
He lusted heartily for the fair Celia, and making love to her had been more than satisfying. She was an exotic piece of fluff, but her letter seemed emboldened even considering their intimacy. What did she want?
He had decided to come earlier than she had prescribed, as she had made the mistake of threatening him in her missive.
