Page 42 of Captivating the Countess
The chandelier groaned and swung wider. The household began to gather, upstairs and down, keeping a safe distance. Bell watched in horror, certain the beautiful piece with all its crystals would come tumbling down at any moment.
“All right,” she whispered in resignation. “Let us hold a séance this evening, preferably somewhere far away from people and chandeliers.”
Rain clasped the hand she held on his arm.
The chandelier slowed its spinning.
With that evidence, they had no other choice.
“I’ll tell my sisters.” Grimly, Rain released her hand. “I’ll ask them to determine the safest place and let you know.”
He set off like a man on a mission.
Bell wasn’t entirely certain it was a relief that he believed her. Another man might have scoffed or ordered her to stay away. They could all pretend the house’s foundations were the problem. She didn’t think one person in a hundred would believe a ghost was threatening them because it wanted to talk to Bell.
Hearing a child crying, she glanced around to see if any of the ladies noticed. The children had governesses. The nursery was of no concern to her.
But no one else seemed to hear—just as no one had noticed Lady Rutledge crying. With a sigh, she returned the books to her room, then set out for the upper floor again.
As always, Bell clung tightly to the banister on the way up. She hoped she might throw herself forward if she felt vaporish, but stairs always made her uneasy. That was the disadvantage of her new rooms—stairs in an area where no one would find her if she fell. Charming.
She followed the long line of closed doors to the far end of the upper hall. Apparently, she should have taken the other staircase, but she hadn’t wanted to cross paths with the swinging chandelier. How could she possibly have heard a child from that distance?
Now that she was close, she could hear children shouting and playing. They sounded happy enough.
She really did not want to go inside. She loved watching children, but they were loud and rambunctious and startled her much too easily. Fainting in front of a roomful of children... Perhaps she could just knock and ask a nursemaid about a crying child.
Balking at being so craven, she took a deep breath and opened the nursery doors. A wave of sound broke over her. A confusion of small bodies raced about with dolls and swords, shouting and screaming. One young boy wore a pirate kerchief over his hair and held a doll with a toy sword at its neck. Girls shrieked. Toddlers jumped and tumbled.
Despite the chaos, an unperturbed older woman who might be a governess approached. “I hope the noise is not bothering you, my lady. The children needed a little exercise after their studies.”
Bell clung to the door knob for support. “No, they are fine. It is just... I thought I heard crying.” She swallowed hard and listened. “I still hear her.”
“That is most likely Drucilla, Lady Dalrymple’s child. We do not know what to do with her. Her leg is crippled, and even though we’ve tried to accommodate her, she is always unhappy.” The teacher looked truly upset.
“Lady Dalrymple?” Bell tried to place her among the many guests, but mostly, they were single ladies. She hadn’t thought any had children. One of the widows, perhaps. She seemed to recall a mouse of a woman at the dinner table.
“A cousin from the duke’s side,” the governess explained. “She was widowed before Drucilla was born. They’ve led a tragic life.”
Ah, definitely one of the widows vying for Rain’s attention. “May I meet Drucilla? I am not very good with children who run about, but perhaps—”
The governess looked most eager. “Would you? We are at wits’ end.”
Reluctantly, Bell followed her through the spacious chamber littered with small tables and chairs, rocking horses, and various treacherous toys left abandoned in every corner. One girl screamed and darted behind Bell’s skirt, catching the fabric as she hid from the marauding pirate. The governess sent the pair on their ways.
Bell hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until she let it out again.
“Drucilla prefers the bedroom. We left her with some picture books and a doll. I cannot imagine why we did not hear her crying.”
“I assume Drucilla is a Malcolm? We sometimes communicate with each other better than with others, although I would think all the Rainford children...” Bell gestured at the tow-headed rowdy lot.
The governess nodded. “They’re all related, yes, as am I, from a distant branch. I’m Philippa Malcolm Damon. You’re Lady Craigmore, aren’t you? I am usually with Lady Estelle, and she’s told me about you. We all have our different talents. Perhaps you’re more receptive than I am.”
To spirits, perhaps, not children, not to Bell’s knowledge.
They entered a room with a row of child-size cots. In a rocking chair in a corner by the grate, a little girl of about five sat with a doll in her lap, sobbing into the toy’s hair. She did not look up at their approach.
“Drucilla, this is Lady Craigmore. She heard you crying and asked after you. Can you say, ‘Hello, my lady?’”
