Chloe bit her lip. "Now I feel foolish. I was so carried away that I let my imagination go too far." She sat up and smiled sheepishly at Evangeline. "I think your illusions are quite amazing. The thunder was, well, thunderous, and I even liked your seagulls."
Evangeline shifted a little uncomfortably. "They need a little attention, but will come along nicely, I'm sure."
"I cannot wait to see what else you have planned."
"Nothing more for tonight, that is certain. If you are feeling well again now, my dear, perhaps Sir Jocelyn should take you home. A good sleep, and all will be well come the morning."
"All is well now, truly," Chloe replied.
"Tomorrow we will rehearse a scene."
Oliver spoke up swiftly. "I do trust you have a task for me, Lady Evangeline? I gladly proffer my services, even if it is only to move the scenery."
"Why, yes, Mr. March, that will be most helpful. Please come along as well."
Rupert glared at his aunt.
Chloe was still embarrassed about fainting. "I really did think I saw a man," she said again, shaking her head at such a silly notion.
"Light can play tricks, especially phantasmagoric light," Sir Jocelyn said kindly, then he looked at Evangeline. "Do you recall what happened at the Marine Pavilion? It was just such an eerie display-ghostly monks amid the ruins of a monastery, I believe-and Mr. Sheridan the playwright sat suddenly and very deliberately upon the lap of a very gullible, fainthearted Russian dowager?"
"Madame Gerobtzoff. Yes, I recall it very well," Evangeline replied with a chuckle.
Sir Jocelyn rose to his feet. "However, that is an aside, for I think you are right; I should take Chloe home now."
Chloe looked quickly at Evangeline. "I have a great favor to ask, Lady Evangeline?"
"What is it?"
"May I borrow Miss Mortimer tomorrow morning? I wish to go into the town to do some shopping in readiness for the ball, and I would like some female company," she said pointedly, as both Rupert and Oliver began to offer their services.
Evangeline was only too pleased to surrender her companion to Chloe. "Of course, my dear, in fact it would please me immensely because there are a few errands I wish her to do for me."
Megan smiled at Chloe. "I look forward to it, Miss Holcroft," she said, studiously avoiding Oliver's steady gaze. She knew he wanted her to find a reason to decline, but there was little she could say when Evangeline wished her to go.
"I will call at ten," Chloe promised, and raised a hand for assistance from the sofa.
Rupert and Oliver reached out in unison, jostling against each other in the process, so she tactfully accepted her father's hand instead. Evangeline rang a hand bell to summon Fosdyke, and everyone went out into the hall to say farewell to the guests.
As the butler assisted Chloe and Oliver with their outdoor things, Sir Jocelyn noticed Evangeline fingering her locket as she glanced up at the kissing bough. "Memories are sweet, are they not?" he said softly.
"Mayhap I now have a little more than just memories."
"What do you mean?"
"What's in a name, sir, what's in a name," Evangeline replied enigmatically.
Sir Jocelyn stared at her, and then gave a slight gasp and glanced fleetingly at Megan. "So that's it! Why didn't I make the connection before? I knew there was something familiar-"
Evangeline tapped him with her fan. "Not a word to anyone just yet. Promise?"
"Of course."
As the front door was opened and Oliver stepped out with Chloe, Sir Jocelyn paused to look back at Megan, as if something had suddenly become blindingly clear to him.
When they had gone and Fosdyke closed the door, Rupert turned heavily to Greville. "I need a large cognac to wash Oliver March from my mind," he said, and returned to the drawing room. Greville followed.
Evangeline nodded at Megan. "You are excused until tomorrow now, Miss Mortimer. I wish you to read to me while I take my morning tea in bed. I keep a volume of Gil Blas at my bedside. Do you know it?"
"Oh, yes, for it was my father's favorite too."
"Ah, yes."
"Lady Evangeline. I noticed the bookcase in the drawing room, and wondered if-?"
"If you could borrow a volume?"
"Yes."
"Of course you may, my dear. If you have a liking for gothic novels, you will find a copy of Mr. Walpole's The Castle of Otranto. "Evangeline smiled, then walked away toward the theater. Megan heard her summon Rollo in a tone that augured ill for him. "Right, Master Witherspoon, I require words with you!" Then the door closed.
Chapter 18
It was gone midnight, and Megan had heard everyone retire to their rooms. Comfortably tired but not yet quite ready to sleep, she sat up in the bed to read The Castle of Otranto. Radcliffe House was very quiet, the flame of bedside candle fluttered and grew tall, and the fire in the hearth shifted slightly. Mr. Walpole's chapters were quite long, and gradually her eyes began to close. She fell asleep with the book still open.
Suddenly there was a stealthy tap at the door, and her eyes flew open again. "Who-who is it?"
Edward the footman spoke very softly in order not to awaken Evangeline in the apartment opposite. "I have a message for you, Miss Mortimer. You're to burn it when you've read it." Candlelight flickered beneath the door as he pushed a folded piece of paper into her room.
Feeling uneasy, she got out of bed. The note was short and to the point. Meet me now if you value your post. Edward will bring you. It wasn't signed, and she didn't recognize the writing, but she still knew it was from Oliver.
"You're to be quick about it," Edward whispered.
She threw the paper on to the fire, and watched flames reach from the dimly glowing coals to lick eagerly around it. The blackened remains curled and shivered, and sparks fled up the chimney toward the night sky; then the flames died back once more.
"Are you coming or not, miss?" Edward hissed, growing impatient.
She didn't want to see her cousin, but knew it was in her best interest to do as he wished. If she could convince him that she wished to keep silent and out of his way, maybe that would be the end of it. Her decision made, she hurried to speak to Edward through the door. "All right, I'll come. Where is he waiting?" she asked.
"The summerhouse. Look, get a move on. I'll be downstairs in the hall." Edward was uneasy, for he knew Evangeline to be a relatively light sleeper.
Megan quickly put on her shoes and mustard gown, and after dragging a brush through her hair, swung her new cloak around her shoulders. She paused to look out of the window at the summerhouse, and at first thought it was deserted, but then she saw Oliver. He wore his greatcoat, and his top hat was pulled very low over his face as he still kept well back to avoid immediate detection by any casual glance from an upper room of the house. He had gained access to the garden by means of ladders on either side of the garden wall bordering the remains of Great East Street.
Edward was waiting for her in the hall, his face annoyed in the light from the candle he held. He wore his livery coat over his nightshirt. "About time!" he snapped, still being careful to keep his voice down.
"Are you Mr. March's creature now, Edward?" she asked quietly as she followed him toward the kitchens.
"If I am, it's no business of yours. And if you're thinking of speaking out of turn to her ladyship, you'd best think again, because Mr. March looks after his own."
"If you believe that, you'll believe anything," she replied scathingly. Look after his own? Her dear cousin only looked after himself! She was living proof of that!
The sound of their voices had come to Rollo's attention. The ghost, who never slept, was in the theater amusing himself by practicing the levitation of things on the stage. He had never been terribly good at levitation, and sometimes thought he would never get it right. He had managed to make some pieces of shipwreck and llyrian rocks hover in midair, and some of the ropes from the flies wriggle like snakes, but they didn't do exactly what he wanted or go when he wanted. Frowning, he tried to concentrate his supernatural energy, but then he heard the low voices coming from the hall, and he let everything return to its proper place.