never let Stratford control her again.
When I left the solar, the corridor beyond was empty. Even Rye had departed. Which was perhaps just as well. It was not my place to tell him what Charlotte had revealed. So before he reappeared, making any encounter awkward, I slipped back down the stairs to the floor below and through the entrance to the picture gallery.
Contrary to the evening before, it was wreathed in shadows. The only source of light glimmered from two candles, one positioned on each of the tables set before the doorways at opposite ends of the long chamber, presumably to allow any guests passing through on their way to their assigned bedchambers to light their own candle to illuminate their way. I considered taking one of the unlit candles lining the nearest commode, but I knew Lady Bearsden’s room was not far.
My footsteps were dampened by the rug, and as I reached the opposite side, I felt compelled to look behind me. The gallery was still empty. No faces peered back at me but for the faces leering down from the paintings on the wall. Even so, I hesitated to go any further.
I stood at the entrance to the staterooms, where the Duchess of Bowmont had greeted her guests arriving at the party in their costumes the evening before. The foyer was silent and dark. The moon shining through the windows cast gossamer shafts of light over the imposing staircase, and the freshly polished oak floor of the ballroom beyond. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I found myself searching the corners of the antechamber. For what, I wasn’t certain. It must have been Charlotte’s talk of omens. Or Lord Edward’s silly tale about the maid who haunted the grand staircase, having fallen down them and broken her neck. It had made me susceptible to suggestion.
Scolding myself for such foolishness, I forced my feet to move forward, ignoring the tingling sensation that had begun at the base of my upswept hair. After all, hearing Lord Edward’s ghoulish story had caused almost the same effect. It was nothing but recollected fright. Nonetheless, I paused to look behind me before taking a firm grip on the smooth mahogany banister and beginning to descend.
I was about three steps down when the icy chill at the back of my neck was suddenly replaced by a humid gust of air, like someone’s hot breath. But before I could turn my head to see who was there, I felt myself being propelled forward. Rather than a shove, it was as if someone, or something, exerted a steady pressure against my spine, forcing me to move faster and faster down the steps.
My feet pattered against the worn stone and my heart kicked in my chest as I struggled to maintain my balance. My fingers could not find a grip on the banister, and my slippers were in danger of flying out from beneath me on the slick stone. My center of balance was already compromised by the weight of the child inside me, and I shrieked as I began to tumble forward.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Though later I couldn’t recall the details, somehow, someway, at the last second, my hand finally found purchase on the railing. Gripping it with all my might, I wrenched my shoulder as my body twisted and slammed into the side of the balustrade, bringing me to an abrupt stop.
Pain exploded in my arm and along the side of my rib cage. My breath sawed in and out of me in sharp gasps. But I hadn’t fallen. I hadn’t fallen.
“Oh, my dear. Mrs. Gage,” I heard someone below exclaim. “Oh, go to her, go to her now, young man.”
It wasn’t until the pounding feet reached me, and a footman dressed in the Bowmonts’ green and black livery offered me his arm in support, that I realized I was shaking. His eyes were round in his face, and I could tell what he was thinking. The ghost.
I lowered my gaze, accepting his assistance to rise to my feet from where I’d sunken down on one of the cold steps. Carefully, he guided me downward, where I could now see Lady Bearsden and the dowager duchess watching me in grave concern.
“Are you well, my dear?” Lady Bearsden demanded to know as she bustled forward to meet us at the base of the stairs. “I must tell you, coming around that corner and finding you clinging to that banister as if you were about to topple over