The Phantom Lover (16 page)

“But that's impossible!” Amelia declared earnestly. “You
must
tell them you're alive. You are now the head of the family. They
need
you.”

“Rubbish!” his lordship responded flatly. “Let them make Charles the head of the family. It's an honor I've no wish for.”

“Your wishes have nothing to do with it,” Amelia said sensibly, picking up her teacup again. “It's a matter of duty. Besides, Charles would squander away the entire estate within a year, if he were put in charge.”

Harry shrugged. “I'm afraid that the condition of the estate no longer interests me, Aunt Amelia.”

Amelia drained her cup and rose. “You are entitled to a time of withdrawal from the world, Henry, especially under the circumstances. I don't blame you. But you'll not feel this way for long. In any case, I have no wish to argue with you—I'm too delighted at having you restored to me. But all this has been quite agitating to an old woman. If you will both excuse me, I shall lie down for a bit.”

Left alone with Nell, Harry turned to her with a smile. “I'm glad we have this chance to be alone. I must apologize to you for my churlish behavior of last night.”

“There's no need. Your appearance this morning has more than made up for it, my lord.”

“Tush, girl, you'll not take such paltry revenge on me by calling me ‘my lord',” he said, horrifed.

“Surely you don't expect me to call you ‘Harry'—as if you were still the ghost of an impudent, unmannerly smuggler?”

“Why not? All my friends call me Harry. Did you really think poor D'Espry was impudent and unmannerly? I rather liked the fellow.”

Nell smiled at him warmly. “I did, too. In fact, I shall probably miss him, even though he gave me quite a headache. How did that happen, by the way? You haven't explained it to me.”

“It was all quite simple. The ghost you saw was really a mirror-image. There's a passageway from my sitting room to the window-alcove in your bedroom—”

“I guessed that,” Nell said with self-satisfaction, “but I couldn't manage to find the door.”

“It only functions from the passageway side. Short of pulling off the wall, there is no way you could have opened it.”

“So you came down the passage and opened the door. And then?” Nell asked curiously, leaning toward him with eager attention.

“It was all done with mirrors. I could stand near the open doorway, right inside the passageway, which was black as pitch. Whatever I chose to light with my candle would be reflected in a mirror which I'd attached to the inner side of the door. That reflection in turn would be caught by a
second
mirror which, on my nightly arrival, I would hang from a hook in the alcove ceiling—”

“A hook? I never noticed it!”

“I counted on that. It was
that
mirror-image you saw, and it was that mirror which you ran into when you so impetuously dashed through the curtains that night.” His expression darkened at the recollection. “I haven't ceased to berate myself about concocting that ridiculous scheme. I might have killed you!”

“Yes, you might have. But since I am quite alive, you needn't make a to-do over the incident,” Nell said, dismissing her injury with a toss of her head. “I'm more interested in the manner in which you created the illusion. Do you mean to say that it was only a mirror-image of you that I conversed with all that time?”

“Exactly. That's how I appeared to be floating above the floor. The mirror hung about two feet above the floor.”

Nell's brow wrinkled in her effort to understand. “I'm afraid I can't quite envision how it worked,” she complained.

“Would you like me to show you how it was done? If you're not afraid of coming down the passageway, I'll let you see the whole process for yourself.”

Nell eagerly agreed, and the pair promptly left the table. Harry escorted Nell to his sitting room, lit a lantern and opened a narrow door in the window alcove which Nell noted was quite like the one in her room. He was about to lead her into the passageway when he remembered that one of his mirrors had been broken. Excusing himself, he quickly went to his bedroom and removed a mirror from the wall. “This is a bit smaller than it should be,” he explained on his return, “but it will serve well enough for a demonstration.”

He led her down a long, dark, windowless corridor. When they reached the end of it, he showed her his paraphernalia which was hung neatly on hooks in the wall: the six-foot-high mirror-frame (from which the broken mirror-glass had been removed) hanging by a ring screwed into the top of the frame; a white, smock-like shirt on which he'd crudely painted a huge, gaping wound; and a candle which he'd fastened to the end of a long black pole. “This was the floating candle,” he explained as he held the lantern high to show her the second mirror which he'd hooked to the door.

He removed the ring from the empty mirror frame and screwed it to the top of the frame of his bedroom mirror. Then he unlatched the door and Nell found herself looking into her bedroom. With the ease that comes with frequent practice, Harry swung the mirror into the alcove by means of the pole and hung it on the hook which, just as he'd described, had been fixed in the ceiling in the center of the alcove. Then he lit the candle and swung it around until it was reflected in the door-mirror. He adjusted the angle of the door until the second mirror picked up the reflection. “There's the ghost-candle,” he said. “If you perch on your bed you'll see it quite plainly.”

“And you haven't stepped into the room!” Nell marveled. “No wonder you didn't leave footprints!”

To Harry's vast amusement, Nell told him about the grease-trap she'd set for him on the alcove floor. Then he donned the gruesome shirt, and Nell sat on the bed watching the ghost appear. It was done by placing the lantern on the floor, covering it with a cloth until Harry was costumed, and then, when he was ready, slowly pulling the cloth away with his crutch. As the light slowly brightened on him, it made him appear in the mirror as if he were “materializing.” “It's the thin fabric of the curtains that gives the final touch,” he told her. “Only the objects which are clearly lit are visible through the curtains. You saw the candle but not the pole.”

Nell applauded the apparition admiringly. “Just like a magician,” she said gleefully. “May I try it?”

“Please do,” he urged. “I've never had a chance to admire the effect. I'll sit on the bed and let you haunt
me
.”

In order that Harry might enjoy the full effect, they drew the draperies to darken the room and closed the white curtains. Harry perched on the bed, and Nell disappeared into the darkness of the passageway. In a few moments, to Harry's delight, a faint, wavering figure appeared behind the curtains, seeming to float insubstantially above the floor. Her face was shadowed, but he could make out the female form. On her head she had tied an enormous bandage with a bloody smudge on one side. “You are in great danger,” she said in a wailing monotone. “You must go-o-o-o-o!”

Harry fell back against the pillows, overcome with laughter. “It's marvelous!” he crowed. “I had no idea my illusion worked so well.”

“
Your
illusion!” the ghost said, offended. “This time it is
my
illusion, if you please.”

“I beg pardon, ma'am. But what is that dreadful thing on your head?”

“It's a head-wound, sir. I look exactly as I did when the smuggler took my life.”

“Poor girl! How did the brute do it?”

“It was done with a mirror which he let fall upon me,” she said maliciously.

“What an unkind ghost you are,” Harry remarked wryly.

“Ghosts
must
be unkind,” she reminded him. “It's our job. Oh, by the way, sir, I'm pleased to note that I cannot see through walls—or anything else.”

Harry snorted. “Aha! I
did
frighten you with that suggestion!” he chortled triumphantly.

“Well,” Nell admitted, “although I didn't believe you, the suggestion of the mere
possibility
of such a … a talent rendered me quite uncomfortable.”

The badinage continued until the two of them were weak with laughter. At last, however, the ghost of Helen D'Espry vanished, and Harry led the way back to his room. When they had stepped from the passageway into Harry's sitting room, he took down a key which hung on a long chain from a hook in the alcove, and with great ceremony locked the door to the passageway. Smiling, he turned to her and made a courtly bow. “There, my dear,” he said, handing her the key. “Now you need never fear that unwanted visitors will find their way to your bedroom in future.”

The key was of silver, with an unusually long shaft and an ornate head, and it hung on a lovely silver chain. “Thank you, sir,” she said with an answering curtsy. “I can only marvel at the odd fact that I never before concerned myself about my vulnerability to … er …
invasion
because of that passageway.”

“That's because your instincts told you that I would abide by the rules.”

“Rules? What rules?”

“I was playing the game of being a ghost, and therefore could only behave in a ghostly way. But now the game is over. Now it is recognized and acknowledged that I am a
man
, therefore …” He shrugged and left the rest unsaid.

“Therefore, the key,” she finished for him with a small smile. “I am truly grateful, my lord, and I'll wear the key if you wish. It is very unusual and will make a pretty ornament. But the gesture was really unnecessary. You see, even though the ghost-game is over,
other
rules now apply.”

“Other rules?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her quizzically.

“You are a gentleman, as I always knew you were. And that implies rules even more strict than those set for ghosts.”

He grinned at her wickedly. “Perhaps so, but wear it nevertheless. So long as it hangs around your neck, you can be sure that neither ghost nor ‘gentleman' shall come down that passageway again.”

Nell nodded meekly, but while he took the key from her hand and hung it about her neck, she decided to broach the subject still uppermost in her mind. “This gesture of yours,” she began, fingering the key shyly, “makes it seem as if you expect me to remain in this house. But I realized last night, to my shame, that I—not you—am the trespasser here. Aunt Amelia and I … we would not wish to take advantage of your hospitality. I know you find us in your way. When do you wish us to leave?”

“Now that you know of my existence, you are not at all in my way,” he said reassuringly. “As I've said to you often, in my guise as the ghost, I cannot understand why you should desire to hide yourself away here, so far from the excitements and amusements of London, but if you wish to remain, please accept my hospitality for as long as you like.”

“Thank you, my lord,” she said with another curtsy. “I shall be most grateful. As to your question about why I desire to ‘hide myself away here,' I seem to remember putting the same question to you. You didn't choose to answer me in any satisfactory way. I hope you'll not be offended if my response to you is equally unsatisfactory.”

He smiled wryly. “
Touché
, ma'am. I shall not raise the question again.”

Nell turned to the door. Just as she was about to leave, her eye was caught by a miniature hanging on the wall. “Oh, how lovely!” she couldn't help exclaiming. “Who
is
she?”

Harry came up behind her. “It's a portrait of a lady I once knew,” he answered briefly.

“But I think I
know
her!” Nell leaned closer and examined the tiny features. “Isn't that Edwina Manning?”

“Yes, that is Miss Manning,” Harry said shortly, turning away.

Nell wheeled around. “But how did you—? I mean, how is it that—?”

Harry went to the window and stood looking out at the gray mist beyond. “Miss Manning and I were once betrothed,” he said in a tone that clearly indicated his dislike of discussing the matter further.

“Betrothed?” Nell asked in astonishment. “You and Edwina? I had not heard—”

“It was arranged some time ago.” His voice was cool, warning her clearly that she was trespassing on private preserves again.

But Nell could not help herself—she had to pursue the matter further. Her high spirits were rapidly evaporating with this new discovery, leaving her feeling numb and empty. It was as if there was suddenly a void where her stomach had been—a void she seemed impelled to fill with words. “But what happened?” she asked with what she knew must sound like vulgar curiosity. “Surely if she had cried off, I would have heard. When I broke with Lord Keith the tale was one of the favorite
on dits
in every drawing room in London.”

Harry turned to face her. “Miss Manning did not ‘cry off,' ma'am,” he said coldly. “May I suggest that this is also a subject we would be wise to avoid?”

Nell ignored the warning in his voice. “But if she did
not
cry off, you must still be betrothed,” she said, her heart sinking. The full realization that Harry belonged to someone else—to one of the loveliest girls in England—had reached her spinning brain and its effect on her spirit was devastating. She did not know why the news had affected her so strongly, but standing here facing Harry's icy stare was not the time to find the answer. All she could think of now was Edwina Manning, waiting in London for a man who was hiding from her in Cornwall. Suddenly she looked up at Harry in horror. “Does she not know you've come back from the war?”

Harry was glaring at her, but soon his eye wavered under her direct gaze. “The matter of my return can no longer be of interest to her,” he said, turning back to stare out the window. “After all, it has been a long, long time. She
must
have become attached to someone else long since.” He lowered his head. “Perhaps she's already wed,” he added quietly.