The Strange Visitation at Wolffe Hall (Sherbrooke Brides 11.50)

“Come here,” Grayson said, and in the next moment, he was trying to hold all three of them against him, his hands stroking backs, saying over and over that it would be all right now. Musgrave meowed, tail high, and walked into the drawing room.

“Well, Musgrave’s all right,” P.C. said. “That’s good. Why did you bring him, Barnaby?”

“‘E were outside, yowlin’ ‘is fur off, P.C., so what could I do?”

“You did the right thing,” Miranda said, then looked at Grayson. “Oh dear, I hope you do not mind Musgrave making himself at home in your drawing room?”

“Not at all.”

Grayson heard Haddock’s deep voice and turned to see him holding a candle high, Mrs. Elvan behind him, her hair wound around in tight little rags all over her head, holding up her own candle.

“Sir, may I ask why we have visitors at this hour?”

“I don’t know as yet, Haddock,” Grayson said. “Mrs. Elvan, if you would give me your candle and accompany Haddock to the kitchen and prepare some tea?” He looked at Barnaby and P.C. “Mrs. Elvan, may we also have some of your delicious walnut cake left over from dinner? A saucer of milk too, if you please, for Musgrave Jr.”

Haddock and Mrs. Elvan eyed the three refugees, the little girl hugging a big cat to her chest, Mrs. Miranda hugging both children against her, looking a bit on edge herself. Grayson knew both of them were bursting their seams with curiosity. However, since they both knew they’d find out every detail by morning, they nodded and disappeared into the nether regions of the house.

Grayson turned and gave a reassuring smile to his unexpected guests. He saw Miranda wasn’t wearing her glasses, and her hair hung loose in deep, heavy waves tangled around a face as white as the banshee’s face in his dream. But unlike the banshee’s fierce, bony face, hers was fine-boned, looked soft as silk, and was, he realized, a really quite lovely face.

P.C., bless her heart, now that she knew she was safe, looked more excited than afraid, her eyes sparkling. As for Barnaby, unlike mother and daughter, he was fully dressed.

“All that runnin’,” Barnaby said, “fair to made me stomach hollow. I’m ready to gnaw my elbow. Walnut cake, ye said, yer savior-hood?”

Now savior-hood had a ring to it, but Grayson liked yer inkpotness best. “Yes, walnut cake, Barnaby. Mrs. Elvan’s is the best. It will fill in all the cracks in your stomach. Let’s go into the drawing room and you can tell me what’s happened.”

“Papa! P.C.! Did the abyss come again?”

No hope for it, Grayson thought, when he saw Mary Beth running down the stairs after Pip. He scooped up his son and nodded to Mary Beth. “All right. We’re all here now. Come along into the drawing room.”

P.C. was out of breath, so Grayson took Musgrave Jr. from her, sat down in his big winged chair and placed the cat across his thighs. “All of you take a deep breath and calm yourselves. Everything is all right now. That’s right. Now, Miranda, tell me what happened.”

Miranda drew in a deep, calming breath and got herself together, watching Grayson stroke his hand down Musgrave Jr.’s back, the cat purring so loudly she could hear him. She looked down at her bed-robe, at her slippered feet. “I didn’t even think to change—everything happened too fast. We’re all very glad you were home, Grayson. What happened—it was very frightening, and I knew we had to leave the manor.” She paused. “All right.” She drew another deep breath. “I was worried and couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t yet all that late, so I decided I wanted to speak to the Great. He didn’t come back for dinner after he escaped you this afternoon. I wanted to tell him neither P.C. nor I would leave Wolffe Hall. I was determined I wouldn’t let him shake his head and seam his lips at me anymore because I was a helpless female who had to be protected and kept ignorant.

“He wasn’t in his bedchamber. I went downstairs and saw a light beneath the library door.” She looked over at the sprawled purring cat, at Pip, who’d moved closer to his father and was now petting the cat. “I knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I knocked again. Finally I opened the door.

“I fully expected to see the Great in his ancient blue brocade dressing gown polishing a medal, ignoring any interruptions. But he was standing in front of his desk, his hands out in front of him, as if he would ward something off. It was then I saw it.”

Mrs. Elvan appeared in the doorway, a covered silver tray in her arms, Haddock behind her, bringing tea. Miranda stopped talking until they left, steps slow. Grayson, however, knew they’d be listening outside the door, and that was all right. They were part of the family.

P.C. poured the tea. Grayson set Musgrave Jr. on the floor and cut the cake, giving a big slice of walnut cake to Barnaby, who immediately stuffed it into his mouth. Grayson handed P.C. a healthy slice, then looked at Miranda. She shook her head. Musgrave Jr. put his paws on Grayson’s knee and meowed.

“He loves cake,” P.C. said. And so Grayson gave him a sliver and nodded once again to Miranda.

Haddock appeared in the doorway with a saucer of milk for Musgrave Jr. “Sir, for the feline after he’s finished the walnut cake.”

“Thank you, Haddock,” Grayson said and set the saucer on the rug. “Now, Miranda, tell me.”

She drew in a deep breath, pictured her grandpapa-in-law clearly. “I think he was looking at something I couldn’t see. His lips were moving, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. Then it was there—the black funnel. It was coming through the closed windows—how I don’t know—and the curtains billowed, and the funnel whooshed right at him and stopped. Then it started whirling around him, then it went into him, through him, like Mama-in-law said it had a month ago, and I heard him say over and over, loud, nearly shouting, ‘I have it, you cursed spirit. I have it and surely you know I have it. What else do you want from me? Do you want me to tell you again that I’m sorry? You know that if I could change what happened, I would! What else do you want? I promised you I would send it to your family—leave! Go away! I’ve done what you asked! Leave my family alone.’

“And then the black funnel backed up a bit and hovered right in front of him. I couldn’t move, I was too scared, disbelieving, really, and then it was as if it saw me standing there frozen, and in the next instant it seemed to leap toward me. The Great yelled, ‘No! Leave her alone!’ I dropped my candle and ran as fast as I could. I heard the Great shouting after me, but I kept running. I grabbed P.C., and we ran to the barn. Barnaby helped us saddle horses, and we came here. There wasn’t another horse for Barnaby, so he ran here. With Musgrave Jr.”

Miranda’s hands were shaking. She quickly took a drink of tea and closed her eyes a moment. She brought P.C. closer to her side. Grayson watched her calm herself again. He admired her a great deal in that moment. She had guts.

She looked over at him. “That’s all of it, Mr. Sherbrooke—Grayson. What are we going to do?”

Grayson rose. “Obviously the Great was sorry. He would change what happened if he could. Do you know what he means, Miranda?”

She shook her head.