Page 7 of Marrying Bluebeard

I have never been so envious.

“Well then,” Lord Harrison says, unaware of my tumultuous state as he leads us toward the ruins. “Allow me to tell you all the story of Sister Mercy and the abbot of Prospect Abbey.”

6

ADELAIDE

“This is the nave—a shared space for both the nuns who dwelled in the west wing with the abbess and the monks who lived in the east wing under the abbot.” Lord Harrison leads us through an opening on the west side of the building. Blackened arches line the sides of the open room, and sunlight streams down from the large gaps in the ceiling. I shiver as we make our way through it. The temperature has already dropped, and I’ve yet to see any of the abbey’s ghostly residents.

“And this”—he hops up onto a raised platform at the front—“is the high altar where the abbot gave his sermons.” He raises a brow, looking around our group. “But the heart of the story takes place up there.” He points to a set of stairs winding out of sight off to the side. “In the abbot’s personal chambers.” A pause. “Shall we?”

“I don’t know.” Marguerite bites her lip as she glances back at me. “Maybe we’d better not. It could be dangerous.”

I want to agree with her, to insist that we turn around and rejoin the picnic, but Monsieur de Montragoux is already heading for the darkened stairwell. I know it’s foolish, but for some reason I don’t want him to think I’m scared.

“I’m sure Lord Harrison wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t completely safe.” I adopt an air of nonchalance as I follow in Monsieur de Montragoux’s footsteps. He glances over his shoulder, the corner of his mouth inching up.

“And if it’s not?” His dark eyes spark with a sudden challenge. “Would you still be willing to go?”

I clutch the fabric of my skirts, but my voice remains cool and calm. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” I brush past him, heat prickling the back of my neck as I feel his gaze follow me up the stairs. I’m vaguely aware of Lord Harrison and Marguerite, the sound of their voices close behind, but it’s the soft catch of his breath that fills my ears. My heart trips a rapid staccato, amplifying with each step I take.

A flutter of white darts out of sight as I reach the second-floor landing, and I pause. The chill that greets me in the long hallway nips at my cheeks while an opposing heat spreads through my back. I can feel him behind me, close but not touching, and I have the strangest urge to lean back against his chest.

Get ahold of yourself, Adelaide. Good gracious, he’s just another man, same as all the others.

Nothing special.

“What is it?” His breath skirts my ear as he peers over my shoulder. “Did you see something?”

If I said yes, would he think me crazy? Somehow, I don’t believe he would. “No, nothing.” I move into the hallway, making room for him to pass as I wait for the other two to join us. “Well?” I tilt my head in Lord Harrison’s direction. “Will you tell us the story here, or must we go to the room itself?”

Lord Harrison grins. “I never do things by halves. To the chambers we go!”

His boyish enthusiasm eases the tension in my shoulders, and I can’t help a soft laugh as I follow him down the hall.

Marguerite clasps my arm, pulling me into her side as we walk. “Do you… see anything?” she whispers, eyes darting about nervously.

A translucent face peeks through a crack in one of the doors as we pass, and I can hear them humming a discordant tune under their breath. I place a hand over Marguerite’s as I try not to stare at the lurking apparition. “I thought you didn’t believe in ghosts?”

Her fingers dig into my arm. “I don’t, in theory… but this place could very well change my mind.”

“I’m sure it’s perfectly safe.” Still, I hurry her along, putting distance between us and the specter. So long as they’re content to watch, we’ll be fine.

Lord Harrison stops and turns to face us as he stands before an ornately carved door at the end of the hallway. “Sister Mercy was fifteen when she entered the abbey as a prospective nun, taking her vows upon her sixteenth birthday. Often compared to a ray of sunshine, she was a favorite among the other nuns, as well as the abbot, himself. So it was no small shock when, two years after joining, she was caught bloody-handed over the abbot’s corpse.” His eyes widen dramatically as the door swings open behind him. “In this very room.”

A pair of icy blue eyes stare back at me from the center of the stripped room, blonde curls falling loose down the girl’s nightgown as she hovers above the floor. Streaks of red stain her hands and a bruise discolors her neck.

“They say she stabbed him in his sleep.” Lord Harrison steps aside as Monsieur de Montragoux strolls in, hands clasped behind his back as he looks around. Marguerite stays at my side, her grip on my arm growing painfully tight. “Twenty times with a knife stolen from the kitchen. He never even had a chance to call out for help.”

The blonde apparition cocks her head, gaze fixed upon mine. She knows I can see her. They always do. “He’s wrong,” she says. “His screams were piercing. The others only pretended not to hear.”

My lips part to ask why, but I close them just in time, recalling who I’m with. Monsieur de Montragoux raises an eyebrow, a curious gleam in his eyes.

“Sister Mercy was hung for murder, and the abbey shut down not long afterward, with each new abbot leaving within a month of arrival.” Lord Harrison’s grin stretches as he looks around. “And do you know why?”

The answer is staring me in the face—literally—but I keep my mouth shut as he finishes with a dramatic, “Because her ghost remains, waiting to attack anyone who dares enter.”

Marguerite lets out a squeak, releasing my arm as she stumbles backward. “No, no, no. We shouldn’t be here.” And then she’s running down the hall with a laughing Lord Harrison chasing after her, assuring her that we’re completely safe, that it’s just a silly ghost story.