me, you were a most convincing banshee.”
She grimaced. “That’s the problem. I was trying for Ophelia.”
Cross blinked. “Ophelia?”
“Some of my friends belong to an amateur theatre group. They did a production of Macbeth last year, using phosphorous to give the witches an eerie glow. I borrowed some to make sure I could be seen even at a distance. It did not occur to me that I would not be recognised, or that my performance could be misconstrued.”
“So when you gestured to Mr Leighton…?”
Miss O’Flaherty grimaced. She hooked a finger through one of her curls, and toyed with the end, smoothing it with her fingers. “I did not know I pointed at him. I thought I gestured to the castle. My eyesight is not very good.”
“I had reached that conclusion.” Miss O’Flaherty’s eyesight was bad indeed if she had missed Cross observing her from the doorway. “What happened next?”
“I heard Mama scream. In fright, I made to run towards the house. I tripped and fell”—Miss O’Flaherty licked her lips, glancing nervously at Cross—“tearing my dress in a way that made immediate repair my priority. While I was repairing the damage, Mama came into my room. She told me I had been taken for the banshee and that if my cousin or Mr Leighton found out, we would no doubt be evicted immediately. Since then, I have been forbidden rehearsing, or alluding to the matter.” Miss O’Flaherty set the book down in her lap. “I have been so miserable. Cousin James hates being made a fool of. If he knew—why, I tremble to think what he would do. And Mr Leighton—I actually feel worse about Mr Leighton.” Miss O’Flaherty offered Lord Cross a rueful smile. “He would be so disappointed.”
“He will be more disappointed searching for a banshee that does not exist.” Cross squeezed her hand. “Tell him. I think you will find that he understands.”
She pressed her lips together. “I hope you are right, Lord Cross.”
“I have seen how badly this business has been weighing on you. I am sure that you will feel much better with the weight of this burden removed.” Cross paused. “Your mother forbade your rehearsing, and you feared discovery—and yet you could not give it up?”
She grimaced. “I thought I was safe from discovery. Everyone thinks me running errands in the village. Oh, I know what you are thinking—it is foolish of me to go to such lengths for something I am so hopeless at. I will never be an actress, not with my poor eyesight or my inability to remember lines.”
Cross tilted his head. “Why do you persist?”
She hesitated. “I suppose it’s the words—this language. It’s so beautiful. Just reading these words, I feel like I’m taken to another place entirely.”
Cross frowned. “Connaught Castle is not overly blessed with reading material, is it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He shook his head. “Merely thinking out loud. I recommend you confess to Mr Leighton. He will take the news better coming from you than from me.”
Her shoulders fell, but she nodded. “You are no doubt right. I am truly sorry, Lord Cross. My foolishness has caused you no end of inconvenience.”
Cross inclined his head. “And caused you and your mother a good deal of concern. I am sure Mr Leighton can invent some way to assure Connaught that he need not fear a return visit of the banshee.”
He made his way down the corridor, feeling a much lighter man. The problem of the banshee solved! Pip was not in any danger, and there was nothing to prevent them from returning to Foxwood Court.
Cross reached his bedroom. He unhooked the leather pouch from beneath his collar. With the mystery solved, he had no need of this now.
No. Cross’s jaw tightened. There was still the matter of the fallen stone. He would keep the heart until they were safely back in Foxwood Court. No point in taking unnecessary chances.
16
Miss O’Flaherty came down to dinner a different woman. She wore the same dress she’d worn the night before, but her manner was entirely changed. She did not merely contribute to the conversation, but led it, sharing Julian’s appreciation of the garden, giving context to Pip’s interesting historical discoveries, and even expressing interest in her distant cousin’s newspapers.
“I can understand wanting to be well-informed, but three newspapers telling the exact same story strikes me as a tad excessive,” she said. “What do you learn from all three?”
“Habit of my journalist days,” Connaught told her. “It paid to know what the other guy was