These were daunting instructions indeed. Summoning all my courage, I did as he asked, making my way to the earl’s side even as Lady Bane began to deliver herself of what promised to be a lengthy speech on the lack of manners of certain members of the younger generation. Henry, William, and Fanny, hardly exemplars of etiquette, eyed us with smug satisfaction.
“Never mind that, Sophia!” Lord Bane interrupted, loud enough to cause my mother to shrink back against the cushions of the sofa she occupied, but silencing-however briefly-his own wife.
No sooner had I taken up my position near the earl’s chair than he stood, picking up a decanter and walking toward Lord Bane, as though none of the havoc in the room was actually taking place. I looked to Lucien, who subtly signaled me to stay where I was.
“Lucien,” the earl said quietly, as he finished refilling Lord Bane’s glass, “I don’t suppose you would mind troubling yourself to give me a brief summary of the events of this evening? I am particularly interested in those which caused your cousins to fly to their mama and hold to her skirts.”
Lord Bane laughed at this, even as his wife protested. As my stepfather walked back toward me, he paused, and seemed to study me for a moment before refilling his own glass and returning the decanter to the drinks tray. “Edward,” he said, in the gentlest voice I had yet heard him use, “come stand here with me by the fire. My sister tells me all our chimneys smoke, but I fear I’ll need to feel some warmth while Lucien recites his chilling tale.”
So we moved nearer the fireplace, with its holly-draped mantel. The warmth of the fire felt good, and so did some nearly imperceptible change in my stepfather’s manner toward me. Lucien began his tale, but the earl kept his eyes on me.
“As you have so often told us, Aunt Sophia,” Lucien said, “you are a woman who is accustomed to finer treatment than we may afford you here at the Abbey, in part because you consider London your home, and were not often here as a child. That being so, I do not imagine the tale of the Headless Abbot has come to your ears.”
“I should say not!”
Lucien turned to his father. “I thought it only fair to warn my dear cousins about him, sir.”
“Your dear cousins,” the earl repeated. “Just so.”
Lucien again recounted the legend, this telling no less unnerving than the previous one. My mother had recourse to her vinaigrette no fewer than five times, but was an avid listener.
“Poppycock!” Lord Bane declared. “Fairy tales.”
“I used to think so,” Lucien said. “But if it’s just a fairy tale, there ought to be a good earl in it. But there isn’t, you see.”
“A good earl?” his father asked, looking sharply at him.
“Yes, Father. The abbey should have been protected by a good man, someone who cared about the defenseless men who lived there. He would not have let the ruffians who descended on the abbey have their way.”
“Perhaps he was otherwise occupied,” the earl said.
Lucien shrugged. “Perhaps he did not see his duty.”
The earl raised a brow. “Perhaps he was taking a switch to the backside of his impertinent son.”
Lucien gave a little bow. “I trust in your wisdom, sir. You must have the right of it.”
“Doing it much too brown, Lucien!” the earl said, but there was a twinkle in his eye, which did not abate, even as his sister upbraided him for using such terms.
“And why you talk of earls, which has nothing to do with the case, I’m sure I don’t know!” Lady Bane protested. “You seem to forget, dear brother, that Lucien has frightened poor Fanny and her brothers half-to-death!”
“I beg your pardon, Aunt Sophia,” Lucien said, when she paused to draw breath, “if I’ve caused you or my cousins any fright. But I do think the experience of seeing the ghost or hearing the hoofbeats is much less frightening if one is prepared. Imagine the shock one might feel, if he were to see a bloodstained, headless apparition floating outside his window at midnight, if he didn’t know the legend.”
“Nonsense!” Lady Bane declared. “We’ve spent Christmas here these past three years and more. Why have we never heard this legend before now?”
“If I may offer an explanation, Aunt Sophia?” Lucien said. “There is only one section of the Abbey which is haunted-beneath the chambers you occupy. No one is ever disturbed in any other part of the house, so we did not wish to frighten you with the tale. But since you wished to have the rooms nearest the north tower-”
“Oh! So this is my fault is it? Well, I’ll tell you why we are just now hearing of your ghost, my good fellow! Because some who’ve never been here before this year have invented tales. Outsiders!” She rounded on me, pointing. “It’s you!”
She received a chorus of approval from her offspring. I quailed before them, but then I felt the earl’s large hand on my shoulder. I winced a bit as he touched a bruise, and his hand shifted slightly. At that moment, I became aware that the room had fallen silent. Everyone was looking at the earl, whose face was a mask of cold fury.
“Are you assuming that my wife’s son has no place in our family?” he asked, icily. “I assure you, Sophia, he is not an outsider here. Lucien thinks of Edward as his brother, and I think of him as my son. Indeed, there are blood relations I would much liefer disown-and may.”
I could hardly believe my own ears, which were soon assaulted.
“No offense meant!” Lord Bane shouted.
He had spoken loudly enough, I was sure, to startle the villagers (including the deaf vicar) from their beds, several miles away. The earl, however, appeared not to have heard him. “Perhaps, Sophia, you would find Christmas in Town more to your liking.”
“La!” she said nervously, “how you do take one up! Bane is right-I meant no offense. Lucien’s lurid tale has quite overset me!”
With that, she snapped at her children, telling them it was long past time for them to be abed, remonstrated with the governess for not having seen to it, and said, “Bane!” in a commanding tone that had her husband soon bidding all a good night.
“You, too, should be in bed, Edward,” my mother said.
“Time we all were,” my stepfather said. “Go on up, if you like, my dear. I’d like a brief word with the boys before I retire for the evening.”
As soon as she had left, the earl turned to Lucien, and said in a lazy voice, “I trust we have yet to see Act III of your little drama?” Despite his tone, I could see the amusement in his eyes, and for the first time, I perceived a likeness between the earl and his son that went beyond Lucien’s physical resemblance to his father.
“Tomorrow evening, sir. Tonight would be too soon. They are Banes, and being such, need time to think.”
“You frighten me-far more than your telling of the legend did-though I credit you with an admirable performance.”
Lucien bowed again, and said, “I had an excellent teacher.”
The earl gave a sudden shout of laughter, then said, “Impossible boy!”
“Again, sir-”
“No, don’t say I taught you to be such an impudent hellion, for I’ll swear I did not!”
“Then I shall say nothing, sir-except-except-thank you, sir!”
The earl raised a hand in protest. “’Tis the other way ’round, I believe.” He turned back to me and gently lifted my chin. “I see I have been remiss in your education, Edward. Or perhaps-yes-Lucien, you must teach your brother to be handy with his fives.” He paused, then added, “Lady Rolingbroke need not be apprised of it.”
“Thank you, sir!” I said.
“Oh, I demand a high price! If you fail to rid me of the Banes, you and that makebait Lucien will be served gruel for Christmas dinner-by whatever headless monk I can find to take it to the dungeon!”
We were destined to eat a sumptuous feast. Before Lucien and I sought our beds, he enlisted my aid in creating a few hoofbeats along the secret passages near each of the Bane’s bedchambers. Henry had awakened to feel a ghostly presence in the form of a room that was suddenly terribly cold, not knowing that Lucien had merely left the entrance to one of the draftiest passages open for a time.