Moonlight And Mistletoe

His look was so quizzical that she laughed. ‘Not at all; the earl has been all that is kind. It is just that he feels I should remove from the Moon House and I am not inclined to oblige him.’

She expected Sir Lewis to assume that worries about Jethro’s accident and the rumours about the house were behind this concern. Instead he looked serious. ‘Then he still wishes to purchase it? With the benefit of hindsight, I wish he had been before you in applying to my father.’

‘You know? Oh, but of course you must.’ Hester reined back to a walk.

‘His agent contacted my father only days after he had agreed the sale to you. Naturally he sent a refusal, but the man persisted, most strongly, asking for your name and direction.

‘Of course my father refused to disclose such details, particularly as a lady was involved, and soon after that he died. At the time we were in no mood to be harassed by such matters and I wrote to say there would be no further correspondence on the subject. Obviously the man was over-eager on behalf of his employer; I am sure the earl would not press in such a manner.’

‘No,’ Hester agreed thoughtfully. ‘No, of course he would not.’ But it seemed he had known when she was intending to move down to Winterbourne St Swithin and had taken care to arrive a few days before her.

She was still biting her lip thoughtfully when they arrived in front of Winterbourne Hall. Sir Lewis directed her round to the stables where he called over a taciturn red-haired man in gaiters and explained her problem.

‘Yes, sir, I’ll get right on it. Happen you’re right about the butt and the downpipe.’ He knuckled his forehead to Hes

ter and strode away to a group of labourers who were grouped round a pile of bricks in one corner.

‘We’re always building,’ Sir Lewis remarked, helping Hester down. ‘Place seems to need constant attention; sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever get on top of it.’

Now he had drawn her attention to it, Hester could indeed see that the Hall was in poor repair. There was a long crack across one wall, a tarpaulin covered the roof of part of the stables and the paintwork on the windows of the main façade left much to be desired.

‘It is very charming,’ she said politely. ‘Is it Queen Anne?’

The baronet was explaining the history as he ushered Hester into the hall. ‘Now, where has Sarah got to? I left her engrossed in a book in the library.’

‘Miss Sarah is still in the bookroom, Sir Lewis.’ The butler took Hester’s gloves and pelisse. ‘Shall I send to say you are home, sir?’

‘No, we will go in.’ He opened the door on to a pleasant panelled chamber, its walls lined with shelves. ‘Sarah? We have a visitor.’

Miss Nugent appeared from an embrasure, a book in one hand and a parchment in the other. Her reaction on seeing who was at her brother’s side was startling.

‘Miss Lattimer! Oh, no! How can I tell you… oh my goodness!’ She sank down on a chaise, fluttering the parchment before her face.

‘Tell me what?’ Hester demanded with more sharpness than was strictly polite. ‘Please, do not distress yourself, Miss Nugent. Here, try this.’ She searched in her reticule and thrust a smelling bottle under the afflicted lady’s nose, producing a sharp recoil and an end to the posturings.

‘Lewis, look, see what I have found in this old book.’ Sarah thrust a volume into her brother’s hands. ‘I was looking up the family histories in an attempt to find more about the hauntings at the Moon House and this parchment fell out. You see, it says the evil grows with the waxing of the moon-the thing that walks by night in search of its lost love, hating all that are happy and live, strewing its love tokens as it passes. And then at the full moon…’

Love tokens? The roses? ‘Well?’ Hester demanded, looking at Lewis’s face as he studied the worn scrap in his hand.

‘At the full moon?’

‘At the full moon…, his voice shook slightly ‘…at the full moon death walks and-’

‘And what? What about death?’

‘I do not know.’ He handed her the paper. ‘It is torn at that point.’

‘And the moon is waxing,’ Sarah said, her eyes enormous.

CHAPTER TEN

‘Local legends-how amusing,’ Hester said lightly, resisting the urge to tear up the parchment in her hand. It felt unpleasant: old, dirty, strangely gritty. She handed it back to Sir Lewis with an attempt at a bright smile. ‘You must not lose this from your archives, Sir Lewis. One of the family was obviously a collector of antiquarian lore.’

‘Great-uncle William, I believe.’ He frowned at his sister. ‘You should not be alarming Miss Lattimer with this nonsense, Sarah.’

‘I am not at all alarmed.’ Hester eyed Miss Nugent warily.

From suspecting her of having airs to be interesting, she was now wondering if the girl was of a hysterical nature; she was certainly flushed and her eyes glittered. ‘But I appreciate Miss Nugent’s concern and I think this discussion is distressing her.’