Page 24 of War of the Wedding Wagers
And now they were at the tower. In the silence of the moonlit night, they contemplated the ancient door, half off its hinges, which otherwise served to keep everyone else away.
“I suppose it’s the last clue,” Amelia conceded. She was ready to finish this ghost hunt. It had occasioned many heightened feelings which had not made her comfortable and which she certainly wasn’t used to.
“And it’s our duty to help Lady Pendleton exorcise Lady Pernilla’s ghost,” said Miss Playford. “That’s what she really wants, isn’t it, Sir Frederick?”
Sir Frederick smiled. “I don’t think Lady Pendleton really believes her ancestor’s ghost rattles down the corridors at night. This is a game, Miss Playford.”
Although Miss Playford looked a little crestfallen, she said nothing as Sir Frederick opened the door with some effort, telling the ladies it was only proper that he go ahead to ensure their safety.
The twisting stone staircase was in pitch blackness until Sir Frederick raised his lantern. Again, Amelia silently berated herself for her foolishness in not heeding the advice to wear sturdier footwear for the ghost hunt. Still, though she was going to ruin her dancing slippers, it wasn’t as if she’d have many future occasions to wear them.
Glancing at Miss Playford and Sir Frederick chatting companionably, Amelia felt the mixed emotions and pressureoccasioned by the necessary efforts in allying Sir Frederick with someone whose outward characteristics matched Miss Playford.
“Of course, if you would prefer to remain at the bottom of this flight of steps while I continue alone, do say so. This is not for the fainthearted and I’m somewhat surprised it’s where we’ve been directed to go,” said Sir Frederick.
“Of course we’re going!” both young ladies said in unison, stepping up behind Sir Frederick who, leaning back, said, “And if you have any need to grip onto my hand, you need only say the word. We’re not in the ballroom.”
No, we’re on a dark and scary staircase, thought Amelia with the faintest alarm. She did not consider herself a coward by any means, but she certainly did not like dark, enclosed spaces.
Forcing herself to breathe evenly, she took the rear, with Miss Playford and Sir Frederick in front of her. Each step took her farther into the enclosed and dark space she so hated and she could feel the sweat break out on her forehead as she steadily climbed.
“Watch the crumbling step to your right,” Sir Frederick called from above, and Amelia dutifully sidestepped. “Are you ladies all right?”
“Perfectly fine,” Miss Playford said brightly.
“Miss Fairchild?”
Amelia took a deep breath before forcing herself to reply to Sir Frederick’s question in the affirmative. But she was embarrassed to hear the strain in her voice and, when they finally reached the top, she sagged against the wall and closed her eyes when they were on solid ground.
But almost immediately she pushed herself into the center of the circular room and turned about, taking in her surroundings with new wonder.
“It is a lady’s bedchamber, clearly long-unused,” she marveled, running her forefinger across the dusty-looking glass attached to a heavy wooden dressing table.
“Do you think it could be Lady Pernilla’s?” asked Miss Playford, sitting down on the fourposter bed and then coughing at the cloud of dust this occasioned.
“I dare say we might find out if we search for clues,” said Amelia, opening a drawer and pulling out some trinkets: small, insignificant pieces of adornment.
“Is the treasure here or is this the last clue, do you suppose? Oh! This diary belongs to Lady Pernilla!” cried Miss Playford, picking up a little book from the top of a chest of drawers.
Immediately, Amelia was at her side. She did not want to reveal her interest in Lady Pernilla’s sad love story, but the truth was that she was deeply curious.
“Can I read it?” Miss Playford sent a questioning look at Amelia and then Sir Frederick, who smiled and said with a shrug, “The lady has been dead more than a hundred years. I can’t see the harm.”
“My aunt would say it was a terrible thing to read another’s diary, but she doesn’t scruple to read mine,” said Miss Playford, adding with a little laugh, “But she’ll never find mysecretdiary.”
Amelia and Sir Frederick looked at each other, smiling as they observed the fact they’d both raised their eyebrows at the same time.
“I think you should clarify that you have nothing truly wicked to hide,” said Amelia mildly. “Young ladies should be careful not to hint at things that might be misinterpreted.”
Miss Playford put her hand to her mouth. “Goodness, no! I have only desires and wishes to be gone from my aunt’s house. And I write all the unkindnesses of which she is guilty. It helps me greatly to write that which I cannot confide to anyone.Everyone is a spy in my aunt’s house. Except Mary, the maid of all work.”
“I’m sorry to hear it,” Amelia said. “I cannot imagine how it must feel to be distrustful of one’s nearest and dearest.” She thought of her own dear brother, and of her scatterbrained mother, both of whom wanted only the best for her.
And then she thought of brave and honorable Thomas who’d given his own life for the greater good and who’d sacrificed so much for Amelia’s own happiness.
“My aunt calls mevain and venal Venetiaand says I should be grateful to the man who’ll take me, but it no longer troubles me. Truly it doesn’t,” she added at Amelia’s look. “She’s said it for as long as I can remember, and now I know that that description applies much more to her. Miss Spencer, one of the teachers at my Ladies’ Seminary, says I have a surprising aptitude for languages and that I could be a diplomat’s wife or marry a prince and that makes me feel a great deal better.” She’d been flipping through the pages of Lady Pernilla’s diary as she spoke and as she closed the book she said, “Clearly this is the diary Lady Pernilla wanted everyone to find. She writes just the kind of things I write in mine. No doubt her secret diary is hidden, but I dare say we’ll never find it for Lady Pernilla died a hundred years ago. Possibly in this very tower, though I do not recall if Lady Pendleton said how she died.”
Amelia regarded young Miss Playford admiringly, though she said, “And I don’t suppose it’s of any benefit to even look. Not when time is running out to find the final clue. Now, what do you suppose we should be looking for?”
