Moonlight And Mistletoe

‘I merely remarked to her that I wanted an opportunity for a word in private.’ Guy gestured to the chair opposite. ‘Will you not sit down? This is an excellent cup of tea and I am anxious to finish it.’

Hester sat down with some emphasis. ‘Far be it from me to disoblige you, my lord. Please finish your tea at your leisure; I cannot imagine that we have anything else to discuss.’

The mug was grounded with enough force to splash tea on the scrubbed pine. ‘Why do you not trust me, Hester?’

‘Because someone is trying to frighten me out of this house and you are the only person with a motive for doing so.’

‘You obviously never studied logic-I am the only person whose motives you are aware of. That does not mean that I am therefore the culprit.’

‘Since society opposes scholarship for women, you are correct that I am untutored in logic. However, I have enough native wit to know when someone is hiding something. You will not tell me why you want the Moon House: you cannot therefore complain that I am suspicious of you. Tell me why you want my house and you may find I trust you.’

Guy ran one long-fingered hand over his mouth and chin, then shook his head decisively. ‘It is not just my story to tell you.’

Hester shrugged. ‘Then we have a stalemate.’

‘Do you seriously think I would harm you?’ That expressive hand reached across the table and captured hers. ‘Do you?’

‘No.’ She found she believed it. Her hand lay passive under his, then turned, seemingly of its own volition, until their fingers interlaced. ‘And neither do I think you, or anyone else, are tiptoeing about this house depositing roses personally. I am sure whoever is behind this is employing some agent and on this occasion they must have been frightened, put down the roses and left. It was pure accident that Jethro did not see them.’

‘He could have broken his neck.’

Hester shivered at the thought. ‘And so could any of us if Susan had not cleaned the flags in here thoroughly after spilling a pan of greasy cooking the other day. Accidents happen, my lord, and I would be foolish indeed if I trust everyone who appears well intentioned and friendly.’

‘Then at least promise me you will take care.’ He let go of her hand and she stifled a little murmur of protest.

‘I can certainly promise you that. And I have had all the locks changed and the window catches checked. Whoever thinks they can come and go as they please will soon find they are mistaken.’

‘If that is how they have been entering. They got in today, did they not?’ Guy put down his empty mug and stood up, looking down at her with sombre eyes. ‘Somehow I do not think you are dealing with someone who comes and goes by the front door, or even by a window.’

‘Then you believe this to be a ghost story?’ Hester laughed, wishing she felt as confident as she sounded. ‘I could almost suspect you of reading Gothic novels, my lord.’

He was at the back door, but swung round with some irritation. ‘No, I have not, Miss Lattimer, but I could wish that you had, they might produce some healthy fear in you. And for heaven’s sake, stop calling me “my lord” in every other sentence. You sound like a simpering miss at Almack’s.’

‘As I have never had the good fortune to attend Almack’s, my lord, I would not know how young ladies there sound. I have had to make my own way in the world and perhaps that has made me somewhat more independent than gentlemen like.’

His brows rose. ‘I have no objection to your independence, Hester, I just wish it did not give you this foolhardy confidence.’

‘I thought you were upset that I do not trust you?’ she jibed, now thoroughly nettled. ‘You should congratulate me on retaining a caution abo

ut anyone whom I have known for such a short time.’

‘I see there is no reasoning with you. Good day, Miss Lattimer.’

‘Good day, my lord.’ The door shut behind him and she watched through the window as he strode across the yard to the gate. ‘Guy.’

Five minutes later she realised she was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring into space. ‘For goodness’ sake, pull yourself together, Hester!’ she exclaimed. ‘You wanted him to keep a proper distance, that at least is now assured!’ This should have been a comfort, but somehow her anxiously sought respectability and acceptance in the community seemed a hollow ambition now.

Hester got to her feet and took herself upstairs to see how Jethro did. Halfway across the landing she stopped, turned and ran downstairs to lock the back door, knowing as she did so that it was probably a futile gesture.

Thursday dawned bright and clear as Miss Prudhome announced when she met Susan and Hester in the kitchen. ‘Lovely and sunny, despite all that rain last night.’

‘Which is more than can be said for us,’ Susan observed, banging down a coffee pot on the tray destined for Jethro’s room. ‘I didn’t get a wink of sleep, and I dare say you didn’t, either, Miss Hester-not judging by those dark circles under your eyes.’

‘I am sorry,’ Maria apologised, with a return to her old fluttering nervousness. ‘I did try and creep about, but Jethro was very uncomfortable and needed a lot of attention.’

‘It wasn’t you, Miss Maria.’ Susan seized the carving knife and attacked the ham as though it had done her a personal injury. ‘It’s not knowing when that creature will get back in the house again. Pass me the butter, would you, Miss Hester?’

Hester pushed the crock across the table. It had not just been nervousness that had interrupted her sleep. Endless fantasising about exactly how she should have dealt with Guy the day before had not helped either. ‘At least anyone outside would have seen Maria’s candle moving from room to room upstairs and would have known they would be heard if they attempted to enter.’ She tried, and failed, to stifle a cracking yawn. ‘Oh dear, I think we should take it in turns to have a nap today. Until Jethro is better and we have seen the last of these strange incidents, I fear none of us will sleep well at night.’