Magic and mayhem collect.., p.3
Magic and Mayhem Collection Volume 1, page 3
“Go on in. She’s waiting.”
Charlotte took a deep breath, loathe to take her hand from his arm, climbed the two wooden steps, and entered through the draped curtain. The space was roomier than she’d anticipated, and an older woman, her face weathered and lined with age, sat at a small round table covered in a red cloth.
The woman sucked in a breath when her dark eyes met Charlotte’s. Alarm alighted her ancient face.
Why such an expression, unless it was all part of the entertainment?
“Please, child, sit.”
Child? She’d not been a child in many years, but Charlotte slid onto the wooden stool as requested.
The old gypsy took Charlotte’s hand, encasing it between her gnarled fingers. She’d expected the woman to look at her palm. Instead, those dark eyes were focused on Charlotte’s, as if searching, looking deep into her soul. It was all rather disconcerting, but in hindsight, she should have expected this. Gypsies weren’t shrouded in mystery by accident.
“You’ve no questions in which you seek answers!” It was more of a statement than a question.
Charlotte blinked at her. “No.”
“Why are you here?” The speech crackled, that of a very old woman.
“To know my future.”
“I could tell you the truth or a lie, either way, you would not believe me.”
Charlotte gasped. How could the gypsy know she was skeptical of all this business of fortunes and such?
“I see many like you. Girls wanting to know their fortune, who they will marry, whether they will be happy.”
It would be nice to know those things, but nobody knew the future. This was a lark, an adventure, not that Charlotte would confess such thoughts.
“I tolerate them.” The old woman frowned. “You, I will not.”
Charlotte straightened and attempted to pull her hand away, but the gypsy held tight, surprising Charlotte at her strength.
“It is for your own good that I tell you what I do.” The gypsy implored. “My gift is not something I can keep to myself.”
A chill ran down her spine though the heat from the candlelit wagon pressed in on her.
“You do not believe in anything you cannot see.”
Charlotte’s mouth popped open in shock.
“Open your mind, not just your eyes,” the gypsy ordered. “Danger surrounds you at Castle Keyvnor. There is evil within.”
Thank goodness Charlotte hadn’t talked Cassy into accompanying her. Her cousin would have been running home by now, and not to the castle but to Widcombe Hall in Somerset.
“Some of the ghosts are harmless, others are not. You are in particular danger.”
“Why me and not others?” Charlotte couldn’t believe she was even asking such a question. All of this talk of ghosts was quite ridiculous.
“You are her?”
“I am who?”
“Lady Helena.”
“I do not know a Lady Helena. I am Lady Charlotte.”
“Of course you don’t know her. She was murdered in her bed nearly two hundred years ago on the eve of her wedding.”
Charlotte leaned forward. “Murdered?” she whispered.
“By Lord Tyrell. A baron who was thought to be in love with Lady Helena. To keep her betrothed from claiming her, Lord Tyrell visited her chambers, strangled her to death, and then threw himself from one of the turrets.”
It was a fanciful tale, one Charlotte would certainly research once she returned to the castle. “And they both haunt the castle?” Was she even asking such a question?
“Only the baron. Lady Helena was pure of heart, soul, and body. His soul is blackened by his deeds and is still seeking Lady Helena, believing that in death they’ll be together.”
“I am not Lady Helena, so he’ll want nothing to do with me,” she insisted.
“You are of her blood. You are her image. Take care, Lady Charlotte.” The old woman leaned forward. “It’s happened before. Others who have looked like you have visited Castle Keyvnor and met with death.”
As much as Charlotte knew this was stuff and nonsense, she could not stop the cloak of unease as it settled around her. “Others?”
“The portraits are on the walls, their histories to be told.” The Gypsy let go of her hand and drew a small leather pouch to the center of the table. Her hands shook as she tried to loosen the opening, and Charlotte was about to help when the string gave way. The woman proceeded to empty the contents onto the table. “These will never do,” she muttered to herself. “I must make it stronger.”
“Why?”
“Your protection, child. Have you not been listening to me?”
Adam waited with Lady Charlotte’s maid outside of his grandmother’s wagon, curious as to the fortune she would impart and was surprised when Grandmother offered none.
Who was Lady Helena? He’d heard many tales of Castle Keyvnor, and it did have a very dark past, but this story was unfamiliar.
“An agate to protect you from harmful spirits,” his grandmother rasped. “The black onyx to prevent your spirit from being drained from your body.”
Lady Charlotte gasped.
“A ghost can do such a thing?” the frightened maid asked in a whisper.
“Yes.” Adam hadn’t witnessed such an occurrence, but he trusted in the possibility.
“An emerald,” his grandmother added.
Adam straightened and frowned. An emerald was for love, romance, and passion. What was his grandmother about? Didn’t she want to keep Lord Tyrell away from Lady Charlotte?
“It’s beautiful,” Lady Charlotte exclaimed before she gasped. “What stone is this? I’ve never seen anything like it. It changes from blue to green depending on how you hold it.”
“Labradorite,” his grandmother answered. “The stone of transformation and magic.”
The maid’s eyes grew rounder as each stone was discussed, and Adam was hard-pressed not to laugh at the poor girl.
“For protection and to give you the clarity you desire.”
“Clarity I desire?”
“Questions you have yet to ask. Dreams and hopes you’ve yet to have,” his grandmother answered.
His grandmother was in her element today. He’d heard several readings and witnessed several talismans being made, but never had he heard her sound so very grave and serious, almost frightening.
“Black Tourmaline to protect you from evil spirits, and finally a bit of silver.”
“Why silver?” Lady Charlotte asked after a moment when his grandmother offered nothing further.
“On second thought. No silver.”
“Why?” Lady Charlotte’s voice rose with interest. She didn’t sound the least bit frightened, whereas her maid was nearly so pale she could pass for one of the ghosts inhabiting the castle.
“It mirrors the soul and can strengthen the connection between the physical and the spiritual. I fear Tyrell could use this to his advantage.”
“We mustn’t have that,” the maid whispered as she drew her cloak tightly around her shoulders.
Adam peeked into the back of the wagon and watched as his grandmother dropped the last of the gems into the small leather satchel. There was a small fortune in that putsi. His grandmother then placed the pouch into Lady Charlotte’s hands and closed them before covering them with her own.
“You shall be surrounded by a shield of protection. That which you don’t want in cannot enter.” She then took her hands away. “You shall wear this around your neck, against your heart while at Castle Keyvnor.”
“I cannot wear this around my neck,” Lady Charlotte exclaimed.
He might not have been in society for the past few years, but Adam assumed not much had changed and a leather strap around one's neck from which a small pouch was attached was far from fashionable and impossible to hide.
“Then keep it in a pocket, anywhere in your clothing,” his grandmother answered with irritation. “But it must be with you always.”
The one thing Adam learned long ago was never to argue with his grandmother’s instructions.
“This is most important. The putsi must be around your neck when you sleep at night. If it’s not worn, you risk grave danger to not only your body but your soul.”
The maid gasped and met Adam’s eyes. “I’ll make sure she has it at all times and sleeps with it. I swear on my mother’s grave.”
“What of my fortune?” Lady Charlotte asked.
“That, I will tell you in a sennight, if you still live.”
His grandmother had gone beyond her normal readings. Far beyond, and Adam was used to seeing her give her audience what they’d come for. But she’d never sent someone away without giving them what they asked. What had her second sight revealed?
Thunder rumbled overhead in answer to his thoughts. A chill snaked down his spine just as the first drops of rain began to fall.
Four
Charlotte jumped at the boom of thunder, then laughed at herself. It had been years since someone had been able to scare her with a spooky story, and the old Gypsy woman had certainly given her more than she’d hoped. Evil spirits and protection spells. It was nearly laughable, not that she’d laugh in front of the old woman of course. That would simply be rude.
“Adam,” the woman barked and she pulled two umbrellas from beneath the table. “Return them to Castle Keyvnor in your carriage.”
“Of course, Grandmother.”
Adam? His name was Adam? And he owned a carriage? Was it the one she’d spotted by the road?
Before Charlotte could ponder the thought further, Adam - the beautiful man - reached inside, taking the umbrellas, and handed one to Martha, before opening the second one. “Lady Charlotte, if you will accompany me, I will see you safely back.”
One really shouldn’t ride in closed conveyances with handsome strangers. However, Charlotte certainly didn’t wish to walk all the way back to the castle in this downpour. And Martha was with her, so she’d be appropriately chaperoned. Unfortunately.
No, fortunately.
What the devil was she thinking? He was a stranger. A Gypsy! But, oh so very handsome, and being near him warmed Charlotte from her ears to her toes.
Charlotte rose from the table and moved toward the opening.
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Adam nodded to the table.
She scooped up the pouch and glanced at the old woman. “The cost?”
“Your payment will come when you return to me.”
Apprehension settled as her chest and throat tightened. The old gypsy shouldn’t scare her, but she did. She was far more frightening than anything at Castle Keyvnor.
Beautiful Adam assisted her from the wagon then offered his arm as he held the open umbrella above them both. The instant her fingers settled upon his sleeve, calming relief swept through her.
There was no explanation of her fear or the relief, but Charlotte assumed there was one. It could be as simple as the weather. Heaven knows that when a storm brewed, there was often tension and energy in the very air. She simply hadn’t noticed because she’d been so focused on her quest to visit the Gypsies and have her fortune told.
As they neared the carriage she’d seen earlier, a young man, dressed in dark blue livery, stepped outside at their approach and held the door for Charlotte, Martha, and then Adam. How very odd. She might be able to reason away a Gypsy having a carriage but certainly not a servant. Charlotte eyed this Adam with suspicion as the conveyance jolted forward.
“My grandmother, on my mother’s side.” He nodded toward the Gypsy camp. “Her family.” He answered with a smile.
“Your father’s?” This was a finely sprung carriage, so he couldn’t be all Gypsy, could he?
“My grandfather is Viscount Lynwood of Hollybrook Park.” He turned, took her hand, and placed a kiss on the back, nearly burning her skin. “Adam Vail, at your service.”
A Gypsy and the grandson of a viscount? How very odd, intriguing, and exciting all rolled into one beautiful man.
Lady Charlotte was a striking miss with hazel eyes full of joy and curiosity. “My grandmother will expect you to return in a sennight.”
“Oh, I will.” She smiled brightly. “I’m still waiting for my fortune.”
“Which you’ll not believe?” he asked as her maid muttered, “If you’re still alive.”
“Oh, hush, Martha. We’ve nothing to fear.”
Usually, his grandmother struck fear into people when she put her mind to it. Lady Charlotte should be trembling in her kid boots, but she appeared unfazed by the entire interaction. “You aren’t concerned about Lord Tyrell?”
“The ghost?” she asked with a laugh.
“Yes, the ghost,” Adam answered slowly. “It’s not something to make light of.”
“I do not believe in ghosts, Mr. Vail.”
Then she couldn’t have been at the castle long, or spent any time within the walls, because one couldn’t move about for any period of time without encountering something, whether it was a cold breeze where there shouldn’t be, or the troubadour Adam often glimpsed. “When did you arrive?”
“This morning.”
“And you’ve not experienced anything otherworldly?”
“Oh, do go on, Mr. Vail. You’ll not frighten me.”
She may not be frightened, but Adam was, for her. “Do not take my grandmother’s warnings lightly.”
Her hazel eyes widened, sparkled with humor, but at least she didn’t laugh at him again. “Don’t tell me you believe all that nonsense about ghosts, witches, fairies, and the like.”
“Do you only believe what you can see?” he countered.
“Of course. There is always a reasonable explanation for everything that may not be of a common occurrence, even if it isn’t obvious at first.”
This time he tried not to laugh at her naïveté.
“Such as these cool breezes. My cousin and Martha fear they are ghosts when we all know that the castle is simply old and has odd drafts.”
He studied Lady Charlotte, from her bright smile to her, rosy apple blossom cheeks, and sparkling eyes, and decided to challenge her. “Do you believe in God?”
Her smile slipped as her golden eyebrows drew together. “Of course.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Miss Charlotte crossed her hands together on her lap as her spine straightened.
“Yet, you don’t believe in ghosts?”
The carriage rolled to a stop, and Adam glanced out the window, disappointed that they’d arrived back at the castle.
“I shall think on a reasonable explanation as I am sure there is one,” Lady Charlotte assured him as his driver opened the carriage door.
“In the meantime, keep the talisman with you, at all times,” he warned.
“I’ll see that she does,” Martha answered while Lady Charlotte nearly rolled her eyes.
Adam reached out and grasped her hand. “For me, if not for you.”
“You?” she frowned.
“I would hate to lose you to Lord Tyrell before I’ve had a chance to know you better.”
A deep rose hue invaded her cheeks. “I’m not worried about the ghost of Lord Tyrell.”
“Then a bargain.”
Lady Charlotte hitched a brow and waited.
“You will keep the talisman with you at all times until you have a reasonable explanation as to why you believe in God, whom you can’t see, and not ghosts, which you will most likely see the longer you are a guest at Castle Keyvnor.”
The sparkle returned to her eyes as Lady Charlotte smiled. “Very well. I will keep it with me, even sleep with it, though I’m certain my answer will arrive before I retire this evening.”
“Then I shall call on you the day after tomorrow to inquire.”
Lady Charlotte tilted her head. “Why not tomorrow?”
“I bury my brother tomorrow.”
All humor disappeared from her expression, and those brilliant eyes filled with compassion. “I am so sorry, Mr. Vail. Please accept my condolences.”
Adam mustered a smile. “Thank you, though it is a blessing after he’d suffered for so long.”
Lady Charlotte said nothing further but squeezed his hand as if to convey words that wouldn’t come to her.
“I shall see you in two days for your reasonable explanation.” He didn’t want to think of death or funerals or illness. What he wanted was to follow her into Castle Keyvnor and remain there to protect her.
“In two days,” she acknowledged then stepped out of the carriage, followed by her maid.
They were going to be the longest two days of his life.
Five
Charlotte paused at the top of the stairs and glanced around. Still no ghosts. Not even flitting shadows in her room when she retired. No cold breezes during dinner last evening. No flickering candles or lamps while they took tea following dinner. In fact, the only disturbance since she returned from the Gypsy camp was a scream in the middle of the night. That could have been anyone, and probably someone frightened of their own shadow after hearing so many horrid tales about this place.
Further, there was certainly no ghost of Lord Tyrell.
She fully expected not to experience anything between now and tomorrow, and when Adam called on her, she’d gladly report her findings. “Poor Mr. Vail,” she muttered out loud. He was burying his brother today, and as much as Anthony and Michael may irritate her to no end, she couldn’t imagine losing either one. Not even Harry, whom she had spent the least bit of time with, nor William, her sixteen-year-old bothersome brother.
Even if Adam did believe that it was a blessing, it still would not be easy to say goodbye to a sibling. Hopefully, the family would find peace knowing the deceased was now in heaven.
Blast! She still hadn’t come up with a reasonable explanation of why she didn’t believe in ghosts but did in God. Faith was the obvious answer, but it was just about as easy to grasp as air and only supported Adam’s argument, not hers.
She did have another day to think this through; surely something would come to her by then.
