Page 20 of A Duke Under Her Spell
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Marybeth watched as Felix and Lady Cordelia disappeared down the drive. The lady had accused her of being a witch.The absurdity of such a notion!People had been calling the women in her family witches for centuries. If a woman lived alone in the forest and possessed a knowledge of herbs, she was considered a witch whether the title was earned or not. Truth meant very little to the superstitious mind. Marybeth was relieved that the Duke was not such a person.
Turning to go back inside, she went into the hallway where they had last seen the pale man. She searched the corridor and the walls looking for a secondary entrance or secret room that might explain where the man had gone, but she found none. She ran her hands over every surface in hopes of catching the most subtle of deceptions and yet she found none. She looked for dirty footprints or boot impressions in the floor, but that also yielded nothing.
I do not understand. There must be an explanation. People do not just disappear.
Giving up her search, Marybeth returned to the Dowager Duchess’s bedchamber to ensure that she was comfortable and that her fever had not returned. She made the Duchess another tea and then left her to be with her lady’s maid. Walking out to the stables she went in search of Oliver. Walking through the door she found no one. “Hello?” she called out. “Oliver?”
A feminine giggling sound made her look up and she found Oliver’s head peeking down at her from the loft above. “Marybeth,” he greeted with a smile. “How are you settling in at the manor house?” he asked swinging his legs down over the side and dropping to the floor beneath.
“I am settling in as good as can be expected,” she answered. “Am I interrupting?” she asked eyeing the edge of a woman’s skirt hanging down from the loft opening.
“No, not at all. I always have time for my favorite girl.”
“And how many of us are there exactly?” Marybeth teased.
“Do not ask questions you do not wish to know the answers to,” he teased back.
“Oh, dear,” she murmured in mock shock. “How will I ever recover from the scandal?”
Oliver chuckled and led her over to a bench in the corner where they could both sit in relative comfort. “What is on your mind? I recognize that look on your face all too well. What has happened?”
“There was an incident in the library.”
“What kind of an incident?”
“Lady Cordelia believes herself to have seen a ghost.”
“A ghost you say?” Oliver’s eyes glittered with barely concealed laughter.
“She claims that I am a witch and that it is all my fault, that I did it on purpose.”
“Lady Cordelia is as cold as ice. I do not believe anything scares her, with the exception of her brother, of course.”
“Her brother?”
“Yes, but I could be wrong. She may just be a miserable person by nature.”
“She does seem to be unhappy, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, I would say so.”
“Do you think she could cause trouble for me? She seems quite determined to label me as an evil sorceress who consorts with the Devil himself.”
Oliver laughed loudly at that. “You are about as evil as a newborn babe.”
“Tell that to Lady Cordelia.”
“Alright, I will.”
“Oliver, you cannot go and actually tell her such a thing. You would be let go from Arkley Estate.”
“Unlikely. I am as much a part of this estate as the Duke himself. We were both born here within the very walls of the manor house. We both grew up here, and it is quite likely that we will both die and be buried here. A mere frightened Lady will not be the end of me.”
“But it might be the end of me and my work here so please keep your opinions, as vast and varied as they are, to yourself. I will just ignore Lady Cordelia. She does not live here, so it should be relatively easy to limit the time I am forced to be in the same room with her. I do not understand why she persists in calling me a witch. What is she afraid of? Does she truly believe me capable of such deeds?”
“She is a person of small experience who has grown up her entire life listening to ghost stories.”
