Read Online Move Heaven and Earth by Christina Dodd - Free Book Online
Authors: Christina Dodd
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right, twice. Once in the house.” Shivering, Betty went to the windows where night pressed in. “Once I saw it looking in the glass at me.” She shut the drapes.
The room seemed cozier with the drapes closed, Sylvan decided. “ I don’t believe in ghosts.” Then she thought of the specters which nightly disturbed her rest. “Or I didn’t used to.”
“I never believed in ghosts before either, and in the daylight, I still don’t. There has to be another explanation,His Grace says, and I know it’s true.” Rubbing her arms with her hands, Betty took a breath. “But at night when the wind howls and the moon drifts in and out of the fog…well, then I remember the stories my granny used to tell about the first duke and how he always walks when there’s trouble afoot at Clairmont Court, and I hide my head under the covers.”
Sylvan shivered, too. Betty had a way of speaking that raised the hair on the back of Sylvan’s neck. “Has any of the family seen the ghost? Has His Grace?”
“No. The night it looked in the window, he…” Betty faltered, and Sylvan could have sworn a blush swept Betty’s fair skin. But Betty leaned to the fire and built it up, then lit more of the candles around the room. “No, His Grace hasn’t, but I think Lord Rand has.”
“Lord Rand?” Sylvan thought of Rand’s cynical, angry face, and shook her head. “Surely not.”
“Aye, miss, I think so.” Coming close, Betty squatted by Sylvan’s chair and lowered her voice. “When Lord Rand came back all crippled, he was angry at the world, of course, and dejected a whole lot, but Mr. Garth—His Grace—he talked to Lord Rand about the estate and made him help with the planning of the mill, just like old times, and Lord Rand was getting better. He was adjusting to that wheelchair, and even joked about his useless legs. There for a while he knew he wasn’t the only one his accident had hurt.”
Sylvan straightened. This was interesting. This was fascinating .
“Then the night I saw the face at the window, I told Mr. Garth, and when he told Lord Rand—laughing at me, he was—Lord Rand just exploded with rage. We’d never seen him like that, throwing things and cursing. And it’s been the same ever since. He’ll get a little better,then he gets worse again. Like today.” Betty rose. “What else am I to think, but Lord Rand saw that ghost and knows what it portends?”
“Trouble.”
“Aye.” Betty rubbed her palms up and down her ample hips as if to dry the sweat off of them. “Trouble.”
The knock on the door took them by surprise, and they both jumped. Then, sheepish at her alarm, Betty answered it. Sylvan couldn’t see who stood without, for Betty blocked her view, but she heard a man’s rumble.
“What is it, Betty?” she called.
Reluctantly, Betty answered, “’Tis Jasper. He wants a favor, but I’ve told him it’s after ten o’the clock, and you’re not to be disturbed.”
“A favor?” Sylvan stood. “Is someone ill?”
“’Tis Lord Rand,” Jasper called. “He needs you.”
Sylvan’s heart thumped in her throat. Had he done too much today? Had she pushed him too hard? Knotting her dressing gown, Sylvan strode to the door and pulled it away from Betty. “What’s wrong with Lord Rand?” She walked down the hall and the stairway, never looking to see if the servants followed. The candles burned brightly in the entry as she passed through. “Is he having spasms? Coughing blood? Unable to speak?”
“No, miss.”
Jasper trotted beside her and Betty trailed them both, muttering imprecations.
“He has a sliver.”
Sylvan stopped so quickly Betty walked into her.
“A sliver.”
“Aye, miss.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Nay, miss.” Jasper shuffled his feet but still looked her straight in the eye. “He pulled slivers off his wheelwhen he tried to stop himself today, and one’s fair deep. I could have got it, but he just up and says he wants ye to do it.”
That was
The room seemed cozier with the drapes closed, Sylvan decided. “ I don’t believe in ghosts.” Then she thought of the specters which nightly disturbed her rest. “Or I didn’t used to.”
“I never believed in ghosts before either, and in the daylight, I still don’t. There has to be another explanation,His Grace says, and I know it’s true.” Rubbing her arms with her hands, Betty took a breath. “But at night when the wind howls and the moon drifts in and out of the fog…well, then I remember the stories my granny used to tell about the first duke and how he always walks when there’s trouble afoot at Clairmont Court, and I hide my head under the covers.”
Sylvan shivered, too. Betty had a way of speaking that raised the hair on the back of Sylvan’s neck. “Has any of the family seen the ghost? Has His Grace?”
“No. The night it looked in the window, he…” Betty faltered, and Sylvan could have sworn a blush swept Betty’s fair skin. But Betty leaned to the fire and built it up, then lit more of the candles around the room. “No, His Grace hasn’t, but I think Lord Rand has.”
“Lord Rand?” Sylvan thought of Rand’s cynical, angry face, and shook her head. “Surely not.”
“Aye, miss, I think so.” Coming close, Betty squatted by Sylvan’s chair and lowered her voice. “When Lord Rand came back all crippled, he was angry at the world, of course, and dejected a whole lot, but Mr. Garth—His Grace—he talked to Lord Rand about the estate and made him help with the planning of the mill, just like old times, and Lord Rand was getting better. He was adjusting to that wheelchair, and even joked about his useless legs. There for a while he knew he wasn’t the only one his accident had hurt.”
Sylvan straightened. This was interesting. This was fascinating .
“Then the night I saw the face at the window, I told Mr. Garth, and when he told Lord Rand—laughing at me, he was—Lord Rand just exploded with rage. We’d never seen him like that, throwing things and cursing. And it’s been the same ever since. He’ll get a little better,then he gets worse again. Like today.” Betty rose. “What else am I to think, but Lord Rand saw that ghost and knows what it portends?”
“Trouble.”
“Aye.” Betty rubbed her palms up and down her ample hips as if to dry the sweat off of them. “Trouble.”
The knock on the door took them by surprise, and they both jumped. Then, sheepish at her alarm, Betty answered it. Sylvan couldn’t see who stood without, for Betty blocked her view, but she heard a man’s rumble.
“What is it, Betty?” she called.
Reluctantly, Betty answered, “’Tis Jasper. He wants a favor, but I’ve told him it’s after ten o’the clock, and you’re not to be disturbed.”
“A favor?” Sylvan stood. “Is someone ill?”
“’Tis Lord Rand,” Jasper called. “He needs you.”
Sylvan’s heart thumped in her throat. Had he done too much today? Had she pushed him too hard? Knotting her dressing gown, Sylvan strode to the door and pulled it away from Betty. “What’s wrong with Lord Rand?” She walked down the hall and the stairway, never looking to see if the servants followed. The candles burned brightly in the entry as she passed through. “Is he having spasms? Coughing blood? Unable to speak?”
“No, miss.”
Jasper trotted beside her and Betty trailed them both, muttering imprecations.
“He has a sliver.”
Sylvan stopped so quickly Betty walked into her.
“A sliver.”
“Aye, miss.”
“Is this a joke?”
“Nay, miss.” Jasper shuffled his feet but still looked her straight in the eye. “He pulled slivers off his wheelwhen he tried to stop himself today, and one’s fair deep. I could have got it, but he just up and says he wants ye to do it.”
That was
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