knowledge of treasure or hiding places than you, I swear it. And before you ask me, I cannot tell you who that occupant was.’ And as soon as he could speak to Georgiana and secure her consent to tell Hester everything, the happier he would be.
‘Then we will search,’ Hester announced with determination. ‘Starting on Monday, from attics to scullery. A least we have no cellars to worry about.’
‘I will help if I can,’ Guy offered, ‘but tomorrow I must go back to London to escort my sister Lady Broome who is set on visiting me-chiefly to convince me to accompany her and her family to Broome Hall in Essex for Christmas, which she knows I have not the slightest intention of doing!’
Georgy would have at last two other aims in mind, of that he was sure. One was to distract him from what she considered his dangerous obsession with the Moon House and its possibilities for family scandal and the other was doubtless to introduce him to yet another ‘suitable’ young lady. Miss Lattimer, he was only too well aware, she would regard as anything but suitable-no title, no ‘family’, no wealth.
He rose with a word of farewell and was not surprised when Hester followed him through into the front hail with a word to Jethro to stay where he was.
‘I will send over a footman again tonight. No-’ he held up a hand when she opened her mouth to protest ‘-if you do not let him into the kitchen then he will have to sit outside the back door all night and I am sure you would not inflict that on him in this weather.’
Hester glared at him, then let her mouth relax into a reluctant smile. ‘Very well, thank you, Guy. But we are never going to trap the ghost this way.’
‘You may be right, but I have an idea. What is it your intention to do at Christmas? Will you visit relatives?’
‘I have none,’ Hester admitted simply. ‘We will stay here and have a quiet holiday, I expect. I had not given it much thought.’
‘I think you should have an evening party-say, on the twenty-second. Carols and buttered rum punch-a conversable evening around the fire with all your new friends and neighbours, including, of course, the Nugents. And I think there should also be some seasonal story telling. Do you not agree?’
‘Ghost stories?’ Hester asked, trying to read Guy’s face as he nodded. ‘Have you a plan?’
‘I think I have.’ He smiled wickedly. ‘A lot depends on the Nugents accepting. Goodbye, Hester, and take care of yourself.’ He paused, looking down at her, and Hester fought back the impulse to stand on tiptoe and press her lips to his. ‘Take care,’ he repeated and was gone.
Hester went back into the kitchen, counting on her fingers. ‘Do you realise it is only twelve days to Christmas? It has just crept up on me this year and we haven’t made any preparations for it at all!’
The others looked up from their various tasks and Hester could see the thought of the holiday was a welcome diversion from the other preoccupations they had been wrestling with.
‘Mrs Bunting asked me to help in decorating the church, Maria remarked.
‘I had best order a goose and I don’t know what else.’ Susan reached for a scrap of paper and a pencil and began to scratch a list. ‘Plum puddings.’
‘I’ll get Aston to cut more logs and the silver’ll need polishing,’ was Jethro’s contribution.
‘I think I will hold a party here,’ Hester announced. ‘On the twenty-second. Something quite informal… a supper party, probably. We must have the piano tuned and I will make a guest list.’
By the time the Moon House party trooped over to the church next morning, Hester had made her list and written her invitations. Fortunately her acquaintance was still not large, for, if everyone accepted, the front rooms would hardly hold the company.
Both Nugents could be glimpsed in their front pew and Hester timed her exit from the church to catch them as they shook Mr Bunting’s hand.
‘Miss Nugent! How do you go on? I was so sorry to hear about your tooth.’
The slender figure turned, a fine, dense veil shielding her face. ‘Miss Lattimer, good day. I am much better, thank you. Only rather sore still and the bruising has still not gone down.’
Her brother hovered protectively at her side and Hester turned her smile on him. ‘And Sir Lewis-thank you for delivering that other book. I have passed it on to his lordship, who is doubtless finding it most interesting.’ She fell in beside them as they made their way down the churchyard path to the lych-gate.
‘Has anything else strange happened recently?’ Miss Nugent’s voice seemed rather muffled, doubtless by the painful results of the extraction and Hester glanced at her just as a gust of wind caught the edge of her veil. There was a glimpse of her face before she snatched at the hem and had it under control again. The cheek revealed was quite definitely swollen and there was indeed a fading bruise-a bruise that showed clearly the marks of four knuckles.
‘Yes. Yes, something very worrying has happened,’ she confided, making her tone anxious. ‘May I tell you in confidence?’ They both nodded earnestly and Hester cast a rapid glance round before whispering, ‘Someone is getting into the house and leaving…dead roses.’
Sarah gave a little shriek of alarm, which, if she had not seen her bruised face, would have convinced Hester of her surprise. ‘Roses! I knew it-the curse. My dear Miss Lattimer, I beg you, reconsider and accept Lewis’s offer to buy back the Moon House before it is too late.’
‘I do not know.’ Hester hoped she was sounding undecided yet unnerved. ‘It is such a lovely house and yet, now I feel so uneasy there. Perhaps I am being over-imaginative. I am reluctant to make any decision before the Christmas season is over. Which reminds me…’ She took an invitation out of her reticule and handed it to Sarah. ‘I am having a small party on the twenty-second; just a sociable evening at home with supper and perhaps singing carols around the piano. I do hope you can come.’
There was a perceptible pause. What were they thinking? ‘That would be delightful, thank you, Miss Lattimer,’ Sarah said at last. ‘We had made no plans ourselves because of our sad loss, but an evening with friends would be most welcome.’
Sir Lewis took her hand and squeezed it. Hester repressed the urge to snatch it away and box his ears and instead gazed trustingly into his green eyes. If at any time you come to a decision to sell, Miss Lattimer, you have only to say.’
Hester watched them climb into their carriage and turned back grimly to distribute invitations to others of her acquaintance who were leaving the church. A gratifyingly large number expressed their immediate acceptance and Hester made her way back home, mentally writing lists and reviewing her wine cellar. As they reached the front gate she glanced across at the Old Manor standing red and forbidding across the lane.
Where was Guy now? He had not been gone a day and already she missed him with a dull ache. She wanted to talk to him, tell him about Sarah Nugent, confide that she had risked speaking about the roses. And more than that, she wanted to be held in his arms, feel the strength of him under tier hands, against her body. She wanted him to make love to her.
‘Miss Hester?’ It was Jethro, obviously wondering why she was standing on the front step with the door wide open letting the heat out. ‘Miss Hester, I was talking to one of the footmen from the Hall up in the church gallery and he says that every Christmas the Nugents used to have theatrical parties.’
‘Did they, indeed?’ Hester stepped briskly inside and closed the door. ‘What else did he say?’
Jethro took her heavy cloak and gloves, favouring his right side where the muscles were still paining him. ‘That Sir Lewis was a good actor, but Miss Nugent was even better and that she organised everything and made up the plays and Sir Lewis just does what she says.’
Hester went into the sitting room, calling the others after her. ‘Miss Nugent is our ghost; I saw the bruises from Lord Buckland’s knuckles plain on her cheek under that veil. And if Sarah is such an accomplished actor, no wonder she has been able to spin all these tales about ghosts and a curse and appear so distressed.’
‘Shall we start to search the house?’ Jethro was already rolling up his sleeves, only to be interrupted by a scandalised cluck from Miss Prudhome.
‘Not on a Sunday, Jethro!’
‘His lordship has been travelling on a Sunday,’ he muttered mutinously.
‘We can discuss how we are going to search and where,’ Hester suggested placatingly. ‘And we can think about our Christmas plans. I cannot recall when I have been so behindhand with that.’
