The Lord and the Banshee (Read by Candlelight #13) - Gillian St. Kevern Page 0,18
words. “Not possible? She has appeared before, Miss O’Flaherty.”
She clutched her hands to her throat. “Who saw her?”
“Myself, Mr Leighton, Mr Westaway and your cousin.”
“And you’re not mistaken?” Her eyes were fixed on him. “It couldn’t have been—a servant?”
“Are your servants in the habit of walking the grounds alone late at night?”
“No—no.” With what seemed like a supreme effort, she forced a smile. “Forgive a foolish question. I am naturally shocked at this news.”
Shocked was right—but natural? Miss O’Flaherty had grown up in the castle with the banshee. Was this her usual reaction to its appearance—or something more? “What is your opinion of the banshee? Do you share Mr Leighton’s belief in her as a neutral phenomenon, or do you believe there is something more sinister in her appearances?”
Miss O’Flaherty shook her head, pressing a hand to her forehead. “I don’t think of her in terms of good or bad. She just… is.”
“What do you make of her apparent warning to Mr Leighton? Should he be concerned?”
“I don’t know. Excuse me, Lord Cross, I must go.” Miss O’Flaherty picked up her skirts, and all but ran out of the churchyard.
Thomas leaned back against the bench, looking after her. A very interesting reaction to the news of their banshee sighting. He must ask Julian what she smelled like.
Pain stabbed through his stomach. He pressed a hand to his gut. His skin felt clammy, sweat beading on his brow. It was a minor miracle he’d made it to the bench at all, or that Miss O’Flaherty hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
Thomas fumbled in his pocket, reaching for the cigar case. The heart rested in the box, a pulsing crimson mound. As soon as his fingers brushed it, Thomas felt warmth shoot through his veins. He grasped the heart in one hand, eyes fluttering shut.
Only now, with the pain lifted from him, did he realise how much it weighed him down. He breathed in, relishing the air deep in his lungs, no answering tinge of pain. He pressed a hand to his stomach, feeling the dull ache melt away. With every heartbeat, he felt stronger, refreshed—
A voice whispered, words just out of reach.
Thomas’s eyes snapped open. “Who is there?”
No answer. He was alone in the graveyard. Above his head, a breeze rustled the oak leaves, sending them chattering.
A breeze. That was all. Thomas’s hand clutched the heart. He released the breath he had been holding. Just imagination…
The sound of something scraping along the path caught his attention. Thomas looked up to see an elderly man leaning on a walking stick, making his way down the path towards the bench. He dropped the heart back into the cigar case and stowed it in his pocket. By the time the old man drew even with the bench, the heart was out of sight.
The man was stooped with age, white-haired, and yet he had a ruddiness to his cheeks that belied his years. He halted before the bench, tugging his cap from his head. “Begging your pardon, sir—”
“I don’t mind if you sit.” The bench was wide enough for them both.
The man settled himself. His joints cracked, and he grunted as he settled himself.
Eighty if he was a day. Thomas watched as, having settled himself, the man surveyed the churchyard with an air of patronly satisfaction. Was this his usual routine?
The old man pulled a pipe out of one pocket and felt in another for his tobacco pouch. “You’re a visitor. Staying at the castle?”
“That’s right.”
The old man nodded. “My grandson works at the castle. A fine lad. Under-gardener.” Pride was evident in his voice.
Thomas gave his companion a sidelong glance. “I may have seen him. A rather strapping young man?”
The old man chuckled. “Liam is that. Makes his old granddad very proud.”
“I imagine he does.” Thomas hesitated. “Is he married?”
The grandfather shook his head. “Not yet.” He leaned in. “He has an understanding with the second housemaid.”
“Ah.” Julian was out of luck.
“Oh, he’ll make a fine husband one day. A hard worker. Loves Connaught Castle as if it were his own,” the grandfather continued. “No, he’s a fine boy.”
Thomas glanced around. There was no sign of his hosts or any of the other members of their party. No better chance than now to find out the local opinion on the banshee. “I’m surprised. I’ve heard things about Connaught castle that would make me reluctant to live there.”
“The banshee?” The old man’s smile was pitying. “Liam has no reason to fear her.”