“Damage?” Binita echoed, eyebrows arched with worry. “Has something happened?”
Dauphine began to shake her head, but before she could disagree, Gerard nodded.
“A bit of bad luck is all. Part of the manor caught fire in a storm last week. Lightning can be so treacherous in the mountains, you know.”
“Oh my,” the marchioness said, clutching at her necklaces, fingers hooked in a protective gesture. “Was anyone injured?”
Gerard dabbed his napkin at the corner of his lips. “Blessedly no. We haven’t kept a staff there in ages. Work keeps me so preoccupied, it’s difficult to make time to visit.”
Lord Udoh leaned forward to catch the duke’s eye. “Are you certain on that?”
Gerard tilted his head as if he didn’t understand.
“I’ve heard all sorts of stories of Marchioly House from the village. Strange noises. Screams in the night. Bloodcurdling cries.”
Several of the guests murmured with surprise.
Lord Udoh continued. “When we heard word of the fire, I sent my valet out to investigate. He said the door to the front of the house was open and a set of blackened footprints tracked across the threshold. Someone must have been there.”
Gerard cleared his throat. “I’m told villagers came out when they saw the flames. To help put out the fire, you know.” His fingers danced restlessly. “The footprints undoubtedly belonged to them.”
Lord Udoh’s eyes narrowed and the air between the men shifted as if their masks of joviality had grown too weighty to hold up. “But that wouldn’t account for the curious noises, would it? They’ve been going on for years.”
Gerard opened his mouth but Dauphine cut him off with a quick clap of her hands. “Is everyone done with their oysters? I can’t wait for you to try the sorbet. Raphael has been experimenting with new blends all week. You simply must let me know what you think!”
Her tone was bright enough to push aside the tensions brewing between Gerard and the earl, and the rest of the dinner guests fell into easy conversations once more.
“What was that all about?” I whispered to Alex, watching Lord Udoh turn his attention toward his plate. The serving staff had returned and begun scooping up the dishes.
Alex shook his head, seemingly unconcerned. “He and Father have butted heads for years. Lord Udoh dabbles in beekeeping. He’s been after Father to allow him to keep a hive here at Chauntilalie. He believes that with all the unique flowers Father has created, the honey produced could be extraordinary.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“I agree. But Father…he worries about what the bees might do to his curated pollinations. ‘Introducing a hive into such a controlled environment would be utter chaos. Utter chaos!’？” His impersonation of Gerard was remarkably accurate.
“So the cries in the night…？”
Alex laughed. “Nothing more than Lord Udoh trying to stir the pot in front of all of Father’s friends, I’m certain. Or,” he reflected thoughtfully, his mouth warming into a grin. “Mother’s peacocks have taken to wandering!”
Covered trays were set in front of us and the guests burst into applause as the silver domes were removed, revealing a sorbet coupe, piled high with exotic fruit. All of it had come from Gerard’s orchards and he puffed with pride as everyone exclaimed with delight.
The conversation shifted as easily as the courses and Dauphine fell into an animated story about something that had happened at a charity luncheon she’d attended recently.
In no time at all, the sorbet was gone and the army of footmen returned, whisking the plates away with practiced poise.
“Thank you,” I said, acknowledging the server at my left. He had a shock of red hair and his pale, freckled cheeks stained just as bright before he scurried off, joining the line of footmen leaving the room.
I studied each of the men before they left, curious to see if the footman I’d taken for Alex earlier was present. Frederick must have made the same mistake, spotting the server and assuming him to be his charge.
But he wasn’t among the young men working the hall now.
“Shall we?” Alex asked, drawing my attention after our plates were cleared.
“Shall we what?”
“Mother just announced brandies in the library.” He studied me thoughtfully. “Where were you just now?”
“I was still thinking about that door.”
“I wouldn’t worry on it. I spoke with Frederick after everything had settled down. A branch fell during the storm, barring the exit. We couldn’t have gotten out no matter how hard we tried, but no one intentionally locked us in.”
“But Dauphine said that a rod—”
He made a face, amused. “Mother would never let the truth get in the way of a good story, particularly at a party she was hosting.”
That certainly felt true. “And your doppelg?nger?”
He shrugged. “There are so many extra people here at the house today… It could have been any of them.”
It made perfect sense and I was glad to have someone else come to the same conclusion. “I actually thought I saw you earlier as well,” I confided. “Through the windows, in the garden.”
“Really?” Alex tilted his head, amused. “Was he as handsome as me?”
I squinted as if trying to remember the other man’s face. “About the same, I think. But he was much more modest.”
He chuckled as we made our way to the library. “Then perhaps you ought to marry him instead.”
The screams woke me.
My eyes flashed open and I sat up with a start, listening to the quiet stirrings of my dark room.
I was utterly spent and annoyed at having been woken.
The dinner party had lasted for far too long. Brandies in the library had led to some of the bolder guests requesting to see the now-infamous underwater room. Tipsy and full of giggles, they made their way out into the dark gardens, to search for the gatehouse. Tired footmen raced ahead to light the lanterns but even still, the marchioness took a tumble, twisting an ankle in her headlong haste to be the first to find the door. Alex had wisely remained behind, claiming the room would be too crowded for his chair. I had hoped I might stay as well, but Gerard had clasped an insistent hand around my shoulders, exhorting me to tell the tale once more.
I’d returned to my chambers in the wee hours of the morning, my body exhausted and my head spinning. A case of champagne had been brought out from behind the bar and the guests delighted in popping bottle after bottle, toasting the engagement, the underwater room, and the carp that had inevitably swarmed the glass windows when the lights flipped on.
Another cry echoed through the night and I collapsed back into the bedclothes.
“Those blasted peacocks,” I muttered, and rolled over, bringing a pillow up over my ears to muffle their screeching.
Sleep quickly claimed its hold but it settled over me as a light blanket, easily snatched away, and when another scream rang out, I pushed the pillows back with a mumbled curse.
Surely there ought to be something that could be done about the birds. Covered cages or a roosting house. Something. Anything.
I poured a glass of water and sipped it slowly, willing myself to drift off once more.