“I think if she wants P.C. to continue being friendly, she will stop eyeing me like a blancmange.”
* * * * *
And so it was that Grayson, Uncle Douglas, and Aunt Alex arrived at Blandish Manor at eight o’clock on a surprisingly clear and warm Friday evening, dressed to show their good taste and each with a large swig of brandy from Uncle Douglas’s flask to shine at social conversation.
There were fourteen guests to dinner in the charming Queen Anne dining room, all close neighbors, all ready to enjoy themselves. Grayson saw the gleam in Mrs. Smythe-Ambrosio’s dark eyes when he realized he was seated between her niece and a rheumy old gentleman whose claim to fame was an inherited fortune and surviving Waterloo. On Miss Elphinstone’s other side was a young man who appeared mightily interested in her. Grayson wished him luck.
Before he raised a spoon to his turtle soup, Miss Elphinstone leaned close. “Please call me R.M., Mr. Sherbrooke. May I call you Grayson?”
“You may, but I will not call you R.M. You must tell me your actual name, or you will have to remain Miss Elphinstone.”
She took a bite of a soft dinner roll, swallowed, and said, “I lied to the children. I wanted to keep in the spirit of their fun. No, I am not R.M., I am Delyth. It is a common enough Welsh name. My father, however, called me his nemesis.”
“Why?”
“Ah, Mr. Sherbrooke, I fear I must know you better before I tell you. Will you ride with me tomorrow? Are you free?”
Luckily, he wasn’t, or he wouldn’t be, once he’d spoken to his uncle Douglas.
By the end of the elaborate meal flowing with excellent champagne from Smythe-Ambrosio’s cellar, the gentlemen remained in the dining room to drink port and talk politics, which interested Grayson not one whit. He and his uncle Douglas were among the first to join the ladies in the drawing room. Grayson wasn’t surprised when Miss Elphinstone played Welsh ballads on the piano and sang in a lovely soprano.
Upon their departure, Delyth took his hand, eased close. “If I cannot see you tomorrow, then I shall see you on Sunday. At church. And then, who knows what will happen?”
Alex said as their carriage rolled onto the country road back to Northcliffe Hall, “A splendid evening. All our neighbors seem to become more intelligent with champagne, don’t you find that true?”
“Only if you have also become more intelligent with champagne, Alex.”
She grinned at him. “Just so. However, Douglas, I am concerned Miss Elphinstone wants Grayson. She is not subtle.”
Grayson sighed. “What should I do, Aunt Alex? Should I simply be honest and tell her about Miranda? Of course, if she isn’t interested in me, I would be offending her and embarrassing myself.”
She leaned forward to pat his knee. “Trust me, Grayson, she is interested. Go ahead, tell her you are involved with another lady, but I do not believe it will discourage Miss Elphinstone.”
“Her name is Welsh. Delyth. It is a beautiful name.” Was Aunt Alex right? But if so, why him in particular? This trip had dished up so many unexpected things, including Miss Elphinstone. He itched to see Olafar. Perhaps tonight they could travel to Camelot. What an odd thought that was, but no odder, he decided, than the two vicious demons he’d dealt with in Scotland.
Douglas frowned. “I’m not so certain Miss Elphinstone is enamored with Grayson, Alex. I agree she wants to stay close, but to entice him? I’m thinking it’s something else entirely.” He shook his head.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Later that night
It was well past midnight, the children soundly sleeping, when Grayson met Olafar in the schoolroom. To his surprise, the Virgin Bride was hovering behind Olafar’s left shoulder. She looked as she always looked—flowing, soft white veils, her magnificent hair hanging loose to her waist, like spun gold. No, there was a difference. It seemed to him she was somehow brighter, more present, she glowed with such excitement. Grayson smiled at her, and she seemed to glow even brighter.
He said to Olafar, “Do we awaken Pip?”
“No,” Olafar said. “I will connect to his spirit using a simple kelpie chant. As for you, Grayson, and you, Mathilde, I am not sure. This is new to me. What will happen? Will you come with me, or will you remain here, only your spirits, like Pip’s, sustaining me, and not actually with me? I do not know. However, I do know that you, Grayson, should lie next to Pip, very close.”
He turned to Mathilde. She shimmered, flowed closer, and thought to both of them, Olafar, I can simply flow into you, become one with you, at least temporarily. Do you believe that will work?
Olafar beamed at her, and in his mind, he heard her laughing, a girl’s high, sweet laugh of excitement.
Grayson lay wide awake, lying on his side, Pip hugged close to him. Why didn’t something happen? Where was Olafar? Where was Mathilde?
Suddenly, from one instant to the next, he was astride the beautiful black stallion, Bonaduce. Pip wasn’t with him. He panicked. “Where is Pip? I was holding him next to me in his bed.”
But Olafar was now Bonaduce and couldn’t answer him. Pip’s spirit, he thought, only his spirit was here. Was Grayson really here or, like Pip, only his spirit? Was this all a dream spun by a kelpie? But Grayson felt wide awake, wildly alive, his heart pumping with excitement.
Where was Mathilde?
He felt her warm against his cheek, as if fingers touched him lightly. I am here, Grayson. Yes, Pip is asleep in his bed at Northcliffe, and dreaming a glorious dream. Ah, Grayson, I have enjoyed many adventures but none so fine as this. This is magnificent. You and I, we are actually here! Riding a horse. I had forgotten—
Bonaduce soared upward, and Grayson heard himself shout with pleasure, heard Mathilde whoosh out a breath. How could she have a breath? He wasn’t going to worry about it. Nothing happening was logical; nothing was real. Or was it? Where were they? Why was he flying higher into the heavens? Grayson didn’t know.
Bonaduce trumpeted a whinny, and suddenly they were on the ground again in the middle of a forest, oak trees crowding in on them, lush in their summer green, with moonlight filtering through, fingers of light parting the leaves. Grayson saw they were on a rutted path. Bonaduce slewed his big head around, and in the next instant, he was human again.
It was amazing to watch. More amazing to him, Grayson didn’t simply fall to the ground once Bonaduce became a man. No, one instant he was on Bonaduce’s broad back, and the next he was standing in the middle of an oak forest. Olafar said, “You wondered why you were with me and Pip wasn’t. In his dream, he is, Grayson. Trust me, he is enjoying himself. Does he see you? I do not know.”
Grayson wondered aloud, “But am I really here, or like Pip, is it only my spirit? And my spirit can talk to you? Or am I as solid a human here as I was back at Northcliffe? It is all very strange, Olafar, even to me, and believe me when I tell you I have experienced many inexplicable things in my life.”
Olafar smiled. “Yes, I imagine so if your Thomas Straithmore novels are based on your own otherworldly adventures. You know this is new to me as well, Grayson. I see you, yes, and we both appear to be here. I know your spirit is strong, Grayson, and your mind is open, always wondering and wandering, seeking out creatures who shouldn’t exist, but do. You have abilities ordinary mortals do not have. Are you really here with me?” He shrugged. “As I told you, I have no experience with another adult human. I have always traveled alone before, sometimes with a child’s spirit to tether me at my destination, mostly not.” He looked thoughtful a moment, then said, “An experiment—” He hit Grayson on the arm with his fist.