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Authors: Katherine Greyle
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box, like I saw at Baron Lansford's estate."
"Bugs," Carolly repeated. "You want to go collecting bugs?"
Margaret lifted her chin, clearly daring Carolly to prove she was just as unreliable as every other grown up. "You said I could pick whatever I wished," she accused.
Carolly sighed. "Yes, I did. And if bug hunting is what you truly want, then I suppose that's what we'll do." She paused, glancing hopefully at the girl. "You're just teasing me, though, aren't you? Wouldn't you much rather sit and sip cocoa by a fire and talk about . . . " She waved her arms. Her favorite topics had always been rock stars or movie idols. What was the equivalent of a television hero in the 1800s? She couldn't think of anything.
"I want to collect insects."
Carolly felt her last fantasy of girl-talk die. "All right, Mags. Bugs it is."
James released the first true laugh she'd heard from him. She couldn't help but glare.
***
"So, will you do it?"
"What?" Carolly looked up from where she sat, staring into the cold library grate. James had just sent his niece back to the nursery, then returned to the library to finish grilling her. He closed the door behind him.
"Will you insect-hunt with Margaret?"
"Well, of course, I will. I said I would, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
"But you thought I'd think up some excuse not to."
James shrugged, and Carolly couldn't help but notice how incredibly handsome he looked as his broad shoulders shifted within his coat. She laughed nervously. "You're testing me, James. You both are. You want to know if I'll welch on my promise." She looked up at him, challenging him without moving from the couch. "I do confess to hoping it will rain tomorrow. But short of an act of God—" She glanced toward the heavens, wondering just how much pull she had with the Lord. She sighed. Despite her firm belief that she was a pre-angel, or something like that, heavenly miracles even in the guise of a thunderstorm seemed as elusive as ever. "—I'm going bug hunting with Mags," she said firmly. "Because I never welch on my promises."
"Perhaps I'll join you."
A cloud seemed to pass from her heart. Suddenly Carolly didn't remember her less than spectacular performance with Margaret. She didn't think about being dead or having lost her memory. All she could think of was wandering around the English countryside with James and Margaret.
Perhaps bug hunting wouldn't be so bad.
Chapter Five
"Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. This is really dumb." Carolly sucked in her stomach, leaned against the cold stone wall and peered through the darkness. She didn't dare glance down, knowing she'd see a two-story drop to a very hard stone walkway. Sure, she was almost an angel, but that didn't mean she could fly. At least she'd taken off her corset, which would have made traversing this ledge downright suicidal.
"Doesn't the man know to keep his ledges clear?" she asked the stars. Her gentle and relatively safe stroll along the ledge that separated her window and Margaret's had suddenly become frightening when she came upon a good seven-foot stretch of tangled ivy. But she wasn't willing to give up yet.
Sighing, she reached out and grabbed a fistful of greenery. "Please, don't let me touch some creepy crawly thing." She could probably keep her balance, even with the thick vines, but not if some disgusting insect started crawling up her arms.
" Crrroak! " That came from the frog she carried, protesting his location wedged into the pocket of her dress. She didn't blame him. She wasn't too happy either. She'd found the hapless creature in her bedsheets just ten minutes ago. He'd probably been put there by a certain ten-year-old.
"More tests," Carolly muttered, worming the toe of her now very wet slipper into a gap in the foliage.
She'd seen the poor frog and couldn't help but laugh. She appreciated all the signs that Margaret's spirit wasn't totally squelched. A child needed to be mischievous. She planned to find some way of nurturing that bit of
"Bugs," Carolly repeated. "You want to go collecting bugs?"
Margaret lifted her chin, clearly daring Carolly to prove she was just as unreliable as every other grown up. "You said I could pick whatever I wished," she accused.
Carolly sighed. "Yes, I did. And if bug hunting is what you truly want, then I suppose that's what we'll do." She paused, glancing hopefully at the girl. "You're just teasing me, though, aren't you? Wouldn't you much rather sit and sip cocoa by a fire and talk about . . . " She waved her arms. Her favorite topics had always been rock stars or movie idols. What was the equivalent of a television hero in the 1800s? She couldn't think of anything.
"I want to collect insects."
Carolly felt her last fantasy of girl-talk die. "All right, Mags. Bugs it is."
James released the first true laugh she'd heard from him. She couldn't help but glare.
***
"So, will you do it?"
"What?" Carolly looked up from where she sat, staring into the cold library grate. James had just sent his niece back to the nursery, then returned to the library to finish grilling her. He closed the door behind him.
"Will you insect-hunt with Margaret?"
"Well, of course, I will. I said I would, didn't I?"
"Yes, you did."
"But you thought I'd think up some excuse not to."
James shrugged, and Carolly couldn't help but notice how incredibly handsome he looked as his broad shoulders shifted within his coat. She laughed nervously. "You're testing me, James. You both are. You want to know if I'll welch on my promise." She looked up at him, challenging him without moving from the couch. "I do confess to hoping it will rain tomorrow. But short of an act of God—" She glanced toward the heavens, wondering just how much pull she had with the Lord. She sighed. Despite her firm belief that she was a pre-angel, or something like that, heavenly miracles even in the guise of a thunderstorm seemed as elusive as ever. "—I'm going bug hunting with Mags," she said firmly. "Because I never welch on my promises."
"Perhaps I'll join you."
A cloud seemed to pass from her heart. Suddenly Carolly didn't remember her less than spectacular performance with Margaret. She didn't think about being dead or having lost her memory. All she could think of was wandering around the English countryside with James and Margaret.
Perhaps bug hunting wouldn't be so bad.
Chapter Five
"Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. This is really dumb." Carolly sucked in her stomach, leaned against the cold stone wall and peered through the darkness. She didn't dare glance down, knowing she'd see a two-story drop to a very hard stone walkway. Sure, she was almost an angel, but that didn't mean she could fly. At least she'd taken off her corset, which would have made traversing this ledge downright suicidal.
"Doesn't the man know to keep his ledges clear?" she asked the stars. Her gentle and relatively safe stroll along the ledge that separated her window and Margaret's had suddenly become frightening when she came upon a good seven-foot stretch of tangled ivy. But she wasn't willing to give up yet.
Sighing, she reached out and grabbed a fistful of greenery. "Please, don't let me touch some creepy crawly thing." She could probably keep her balance, even with the thick vines, but not if some disgusting insect started crawling up her arms.
" Crrroak! " That came from the frog she carried, protesting his location wedged into the pocket of her dress. She didn't blame him. She wasn't too happy either. She'd found the hapless creature in her bedsheets just ten minutes ago. He'd probably been put there by a certain ten-year-old.
"More tests," Carolly muttered, worming the toe of her now very wet slipper into a gap in the foliage.
She'd seen the poor frog and couldn't help but laugh. She appreciated all the signs that Margaret's spirit wasn't totally squelched. A child needed to be mischievous. She planned to find some way of nurturing that bit of
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