A Phantom Affair (7 page)

With difficulty, Ellen raised her parasol as she walked back out into the afternoon sunshine. The expanse of garden between her and the Abbey seemed wider than when she had crossed it only minutes ago. Maybe it was only her frustration that made it so. She had hoped for a simple answer, but only found more questions.

The soft sound of a bird in the bushes and the buzz of insects closer to the ground were nearly lost beneath the crunch of the seashells beneath her boots. The shells which had been spread out in a meandering path were as dry and white as fleshless bones.

She shuddered, trying to throw off her dreary thoughts. Tears pricked her eyes. Even that simple motion sent a pain down her arm. Pausing beneath the cool shade of an oak, she stared at the ocean past the house. Without a division between earth and sky, the grayness stretched endlessly.

“More confused?”

Ellen whirled around, then scowled when she saw Corey behind her. “Did you ever consider how many years you could take off a soul's life by sneaking around like that?”

“The shells on this path make it impossible for anybody to skulk about.” He toyed with a few of them with the toe of his boot.

“Any
body
, yes, but not a ghost.”

“Oh.”

She laughed at the chagrin on his face. “I suppose you shall accustom yourself to that eventually.”

“I suspect I must.”

“I did not expect to see you out here.”

Corey folded his arms over his chest and looked around. “All of this is my home.” His gaze returned to her. “Odd that you seem to know more about what I should and should not do than I do.”

“We Scots are fond of ghostly tales.”

“You should tell me a few. Mayhap then I would know what the parameters of this new existence are for me.”

“You are English!” She laughed as they continued along the path toward the house. “I doubt if our old stories would have any bearing on this.”

“So what did Fenton tell you?”

Ellen stopped and faced him. “Are you spying upon me again?”

He held up his hands, laughing. “I told you I did not peek into your rooms. Nor did I sneak after you to eavesdrop on your conversation. 'Twas only a guess. You are coming from the direction of the stables, and I saw how you tensed when I mentioned Fenton's name earlier.”

“He is an eccentric chap.”

“But his idiosyncratic ways have proven to be worthwhile. I should have heeded his warnings.” He took a step closer to her. “I fear my mind was on other matters at that moment. Matters of the scent of a sweet cologne that teased me and a slender hand upon my arm.”

“Corey, please don't,” she whispered.

“You would deny me the enjoyment of recalling those last memories of physical pleasure?”

“No, but to speak of them now …” She rushed along the path although she knew it was as impossible to escape from him as from the longings his words brought to life. She did not want to remember how strong his arm had been beneath her fingers and how she had imagined that arm drawing her into an embrace as his lips caressed hers.

No
! She must never think of these things. Never!

She settled the parasol on her shoulder where it would hide her face from Corey. Then she wondered if she could conceal anything from a man who apparently could wander through walls at will.

“Ellen, if I said something to offend you—”

“Offend?” Her laugh was terse. “No, you did not offend me. It simply is too late to talk about what might have been.”

“Now that is the sensible Scot speaking.”

“You think this can be changed?”

“Who can tell?”

Ellen had no answer for him. Listening as he spoke of recent work on the garden as if no harsh words had been exchanged, she was glad he did not ask her any more questions. Her breath banged against her side when they reached the steps leading up to a side door. Only now was she discovering how she had been sapped by her injuries.

Blinking, as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dusk within, Ellen closed her parasol and loosened the ribbons on her bonnet. The small entry was at the foot of a set of stairs leading to the hallway near her bedchamber, and she wanted nothing more, at the moment, than to kick off her boots and relax in her bed.

“You did too much,” Corey said as he leaned his elbow on the black walnut banister. “You should have sent for Fenton to come here.”

“On what pretext?”

“A good question to which I do not have a good answer.”

Footfalls came toward them. Ellen waved Corey to silence, although it was unnecessary. No one could hear him save her.

A man, who was not much taller than Fenton, walked toward Ellen. He possessed an aura of serenity that contrasted with Corey's sudden gasp. Wanting to ask what was amiss, Ellen could only smile.

The man stopped. “Miss Dunbar?”

“Yes.”

“I am Armstead. I was my lord's man.”

“What can I do for you, Armstead?” Her voice was colder than she wanted, but she was too aware of Corey listening.

He struggled to smile and failed, his face gaining years as his wrinkles deepened with sorrow. “I heard you sat with him at his last breath, Miss Dunbar. They kept me out, but I am glad you were there.”

“I recall so little of that.” She touched her head. “My brain was muddled.”

“I understand. I simply wished to tell you that I am glad my lord was not alone.”

Corey said, “Tell him how much I have treasured his years of service.”

“I am sure,” she said to the distraught man, “Lord Wulfric treasured your attentive service over so many years.”

“How kind of you to say that, Miss Dunbar.”

“What Lord Wulfric would say himself if he were able.”

Corey grinned and nodded. “You are doing a famous job with this, Ellen.”

“Thank you, again.” Armstead squared his shoulders and smiled sadly. “I wished to speak to you before I left.”

“Leave?” Corey shouted, but only Ellen's ears rang. “Where are you going? Ellen, ask him where he's going!”

She flashed Corey a frown, but obeyed.

“Mr. Wolfe—excuse me, Lord Wulfric has granted me leave to visit my family in Manchester for a few weeks,” the old man replied. “My sister has long wished for me to spend some time with her.”

“Spare me another frown,” Corey said, moving to stand beside Armstead so Ellen could not avoid looking at him. “He never mentioned that to me. I would have gladly allowed him some time to take a flying visit to see his sister. He even could have had longer, although I must own I was grateful for Armstead's help with more than my wardrobe. If Lorenzo had half a brain, he would glean every bit of advice Armstead can offer before he sends the man on his way.”

Ellen twisted her fingers through the ribbons on her parasol. “Have a good sojourn, Armstead. I know Lord Wulfric will be pleased to see you upon your return.”

“Yes,” he said, but his tone suggested he might stay in Manchester.

“Damn!” Corey's hands fisted at his sides. “Persuade him to come back, Ellen.”

“I shall leave after the funeral services tomorrow, Miss Dunbar,” the old man went on, “but I wanted to speak with you before I left. Good day.”

Ellen ignored Corey, who continued to demand she tell Armstead to return to Wolfe Abbey, as she bid Armstead a good day. As soon as the valet was out of earshot, she whirled to face Corey and nearly fell. She gripped the banister to keep herself on her feet. “I am fine,” she said, waving him aside.

“Why didn't you tell him what I told you?”

“How was I to explain how I know these things?”

His smile was cold. “You have been doing well making up bangers so far.”

“You are beastly.”

“Is that any way to speak of the dead?”

She stared at him. When a slow smile spread across his face, she could not help laughing. “You
are
beastly, you know.”

“Who is beastly, dear?” Marian hurried into the foyer. “Is someone causing you trouble? You need only to speak to Lorenzo, and he will be certain it is dealt with in lickety-split time.”

“No one.” Ellen took a step up the stairs. “Just talking to myself.”

“Calling yourself beastly?”

“Just this blasted bandage.”

“Ellen, be careful of your language.” Marian put her arm around Ellen's shoulders and guided her up the stairs. “Just imagine what Lorenzo would think if he heard such things at a time like this.”

Ellen ignored Corey's laugh as she went with Marian. She did not look back to see if he was following. She doubted if he would leave her alone for long, and she was unsure if she looked forward to his next appearance or dreaded it.

The chapel at the back of Wolfe Abbey was small and dark and stank of age and winter damp. Dust motes swirled in a soundless waltz within the colored light flowing through the two arched windows facing each other across a pair of stone pews.

Ellen flinched when her fingers brushed the stone. It had been smoothed by countless hands before hers. Lowering herself gingerly to the hard seat, she looked around. Although nearly every pew was full, no more than two score mourners had gathered in the tiny chapel. She recognized several faces from the
soirée
on that tragic night, but either she could not recall the names to go with them or she had never been introduced. Much of that night was lost to the memory stolen from her by her injuries. Odd, that the parts with Corey remained seared so clearly into her mind.

She nodded to a gray-haired woman who looked somewhat familiar as she passed down the aisle to take a seat in a pew closer to the front. If Marian had been there, she could have told Ellen each person's name and relationship to Corey, but Marian had been delayed within the house by a servant with a question about the food to be served after the funeral for Lord Wulfric was over.

An involuntary smile tugged at her lips. Lord Wulfric. Not Corey Wolfe. Even to herself, the body in the closed casket could not be connected with the impish spirit that haunted her.

She touched the lighter bandage on her arm. Mr. Bridges had changed it that morning after she had dressed. He had reminded her again of how fortunate she was to be alive. As she raised her gaze to the simple casket, she blinked back sudden tears. Corey had taken the brunt of the explosion, saving her life. She had never thanked him.

“May I sit with you, Miss Dunbar?”

Smiling at the new Lord Wulfric, Ellen eased to the far side of the pew. Lorenzo Wolfe's spindly knees pointed toward the ceiling when he sat beside her. She never had seen such a bald-ribbed man.

“I am pleased you are here,” he continued.

“Did you think I would stay away?”

“You met Corey but once.” He scanned the nearly empty chapel. “Not long enough for him to vex you with his peculiar sense of humor. Too many of the people in the shire did not understand that his honed wit was meant only to jest.”

“I can see how they might feel that way after what I have endured.”

He faced her, bafflement on his face. “When?”

Ellen swallowed roughly. She must be careful. Unthinking words would betray her. “At the gathering before the fireworks, of course.”

“It wasn't,” Lord Wulfric said, looking again at the simple pulpit beneath the huge sounding board suspended from the rafters, “that he meant to be vexing. He was so much his father's son. The late Lord Wulfric—the late, late one—was ever a jester. Corey enjoyed teasing all of us.”

“That is the way of many families.”

“Yours?”

She was glad she could answer with the truth. “My family is far from here in Scotland, so I seldom have the pleasure of their company.”

“Sad.”

“Yes, very sad.”

“Excuse me?” Lord Wulfric asked.

Only then did Ellen realize that the words of commiseration had been in a deeper voice. Swiveling slightly, she bit her lip to silence her gasp as she saw Corey sitting on the back of the pew, his boots nearly brushing her skirt. Except for the peculiar glow around him, he looked as solid of flesh as his cousin.

“What are you doing
here
?” she mouthed, unable to speak the words aloud, for Lord Wulfric would overhear.

“I cannot make out
your
soundless words, so you must forgive me if I fail to answer. However, you can hear me.” Corey looked around the chapel. “Sorry showing, isn't it? I thought more folks would come to say good riddance to me.”

As if he were privy to Corey's words, Lord Wulfric said, “I do not mean to suggest this small gathering is the result of Corey's pranks. Without his sister Vanessa and her family here, I thought we would have a simple funeral. Later, when they return from the continent, we shall have a memorial service which will be more suitable for the passing of a marquess.”

“You always liked ceremony, Lorenzo,” Corey grumbled.

Ellen glared at Corey, then gave Lord Wulfric a smile. “I think that is a wonderful idea. How soon do you think his sister and her husband can return?”

“Her husband is busy on the government's business. Last month, we received a letter telling us they were in Vienna, but I am not sure they are there now. The message of Corey's accident was sent to their address in Vienna as well as to several of the ministries in London which might know where they have been sent.” He clasped his hands on his knees. “Ours is a most unusual family.”

“Only to you.” Corey copied his cousin's pose. “To the rest of us, you are the odd bird, Lorenzo.”

Wanting to warn Corey to be silent, Ellen had no chance. The minister in his dark surplice paused by the pew. He shook Lord Wulfric's hand and murmured a few words of sympathy before looking at Ellen.

“Miss Ellen Dunbar,” Lord Wulfric supplied quickly, “this is Reverend Stapleton. His parish includes Wolfe Abbey.”