dark now, but they reflected the full moon as if it were dozens of lamps glowing just inside the panes. The aura of menace she had sensed before had faded now, leaving behind an old, somewhat neglected house built in a time when all things French had been admired and celebrated. Perhaps someday they would be again, and someone would properly restore the place to its former glory.
Had she managed to break the curse? Jennet would never know for sure, but she had the feeling that saving the man she loved and then letting him go would have earned the approval of even the most vengeful spirit. It was what they had not been able to do as the mistresses of Dredthorne Hall.
“Perhaps you should do the same,” she told the old house Hall before she started down the drive toward the road.
The walk to Reed Park on foot took most of an hour. Mrs. Holloway, who was waiting up in her nightdress and robe, unlocked the door and let her inside.
“Mrs. Reed took Barton’s horse and rode it to the parsonage,” the housekeeper told her, and related the details.
The thought of her terrified, panicking mother having the courage to go for help in the middle of the night made Jennet sigh. It also meant that as soon as Jeffrey returned home he would have to bring Margaret back to hers. The poor vicar wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.
“I must wash and change before she returns with Mr. Branwen,” she said as she took off Greystone’s cloak, revealing the bedraggled, wine-soaked shirt. “Can I impose on you to keep watch for them?”
Mrs. Holloway nodded. “I’ll warm some water for you and send it up with Debny.”
Upstairs Jennet gratefully stripped out of Greystone’s wine-stained shirt and her undergarments, and donned her dressing gown. When her mother’s maid arrived with the steaming jug, she also offered a bottle of rose water.
“For your hair, Miss.” Debny grimaced at the snarled mess hanging around Jennet’s face. “I’ll brush it out for you once you’re dressed.”
“Thank you, but since I am responsible for this disaster, I will see to it.” She hesitated before she asked, “I need to speak with Mama when she arrives, and what I have to say will be distressing to her. You may want to prepare for one of her episodes.”
The maid frowned. “Mrs. Reed saddled a horse to go after you tonight, Miss, and I’ve never seen her stronger or more determined. She panics only when she feels helpless and can do nothing. That’s when her fears prey on her thinking.”
Jennet felt astonished. “I have never seen that about Mama.”
Debny nodded. “You always want to calm her, Miss, as you should. But the real remedy is to give her something to do about her worries. Then she is like the tiger.”
Once the maid left, Jennet attended to washing and dressing herself, and brushed out her hair, braiding it as she did every night. As she did she thought of everything she had meant to conceal from Margaret, and silently debated the wisdom of doing so. If she was with child, she would need her mother’s help and support. She would also have to contact William’s mother, and inform her she was to become a grandmother.
Even if there was no child, Jennet still needed to explain what had happened at Dredthorne Hall. Margaret had been right about the old house, and it would gratify her to know that for once her fears had been justified.
The vicar arrived a short time later with Jennet’s mother, who looked pale and exhausted. The moment Margaret saw her she opened her arms, and caught her in a tight embrace.
“Go home, dear Mr. Branwen, and bless you for delivering my girl back to me,” Margaret said. “We will forever be in your debt.”
Jeffrey caught Jennet’s eye, and she nodded to him. “Think nothing of it, Mrs. Reed. Miss Reed.” He bowed and departed.
Mrs. Holloway took Margaret’s coat, and smiled as her mistress thanked her for her efforts. Jennet thought her mother might wish to retire, and suggested the same, a notion that the older woman promptly squashed.
“You will explain to me why you remained behind at Dredthorne Hall,” Margaret said, and marched her into the sitting room.
After Jennet lit the lamps, she sat down with her by the banked fire, and tried to think of how to begin.
“It was William, was it not?” her mother prompted. At her incredulous look, she added, “Debny told me last