Page 30 of Mesmerized

“Yes, just less well-known. The Crown confiscated their lands and executed them for treason.”

“A whole family?” Olivia felt sick, thinking of it.

“Father and mother and two grown sons. If anyone was left, I have no idea what happened to them.”

“How awful.”

He nodded. “The land stayed with the Crown, of course. Then, during Queen Elizabeth’s reign, it was given to our ancestor, along with the title—the first Earl St. Leger. He was one of the Queen’s seafaring raiders, and he brought the Queen a good bit of Spanish gold. Blackhope was his reward from her.”

“So we had nothing to do with it,” Lady St. Leger said, her voice still tremulous with tears. She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “How can they make Roderick suffer? He did nothing wrong.”

Olivia took Lady St. Leger’s hand in sympathy. “I am sure he didn’t, my lady.”

“It’s so cruel,” Lady St. Leger protested.

“Yes.” Olivia glanced at Madame Valenskaya, her expression hardening. “It is cruel. But it will end. I promise.”

* * *

“IT’S CRUEL,” OLIVIA repeated sometime later, pacing the floor of Stephen’s study. They had gone there after the séance had broken up and the others had gone on to their rooms. “It’s heartless. I cannot believe they would use Lady St. Leger so callously. What do they hope to accomplish, anyway, with all this talk of martyrs?”

“Money,” Stephen replied flatly. He, also, was still on his feet, too restless after the evening’s events to sit down. “Perhaps they will offer to exorcise all those restless spirits for a fee. Or maybe they are hoping I will simply pay them off to get them away from my mother. God knows, I might just do it if they put her through many more nights like this. Much as I despise giving in to extortion, I cannot stand by and watch her suffer.”

“We will stop them,” Olivia said flatly. “Let’s consider. First, how did they find out about this family that used to live here? The Martyrs. I would not think that is common knowledge. I have never heard of them, certainly.”

“They were not terribly important historically,” Stephen agreed. “But it’s something of a local legend. You know how that is—tales of some ghostly woman who is seen at midnight, and people say she was one of the martyred family. It makes a good story. There is a family history of the St. Legers, and I believe the martyred Scorhills are mentioned there. They might be included in a comprehensive account of King Henry’s reign. But, more likely, they picked it up from something Mother or Belinda or Pamela said.”

“The same way they learned your brother’s favorite songs.”

“Yes. But how did they bring off that ruse?” Stephen asked. “I mean, we all heard ‘Für Elise.’”

“First they would have found out what songs he particularly liked, probably easier to bring out in casual conversation than one would imagine. Then they just had to find a small music box that played one of the tunes that were his favorites. They wind the music box up so that it will play, then Madame Valenskaya conceals it in another of her pockets or maybe even inside the skirt. She runs a thin wire inside her dress from the switch on the music box to her hand, and when she tugs on the wire, the lever on the music box is pulled, releasing the mechanism, and it plays, fading out soon enough.”

He shook his head. “They are clever.”

“What of the monk tonight?” Olivia asked. “Is that another local legend? Monks, headless and otherwise, frequently are.”

Stephen shrugged. “Not that I can recall. Although, as you said, they often appear in ghostly stories. And a monk would fit with the idea of the Martyrs, since they were killed for not renouncing Catholicism. The Dissolution of the Abbeys was at the same time as the Scorhills’ troubles.”

Olivia looked thoughtful. “I think they made a mistake with that ‘ghost’ tonight. However badly it may have frightened Lady St. Leger and softened her up for tonight’s séance, it also carries the seeds of their destruction. If we could just find that robe in one of their rooms, it would prove they were behind the little show in the garden.”

“I presume it was Babington,” Stephen mused.

“I would think so. The monk was certainly not wide and short enough to be Madame Valenskaya, and though it was hard to judge height looking down on it like that, I think it was probably taller than Irina, also. So, unless they have a cohort outside this house working with them, it would have to be Mr. Babington.”

“He hardly seems the sort to have the nerve for it,” Stephen commented.

“Perhaps that quiet, reticent demeanor of his is another disguise.” Olivia shrugged. “Tom can get into his room tomorrow. He offered to take on the job of polishing Mr. Babington’s shoes and cleaning his clothes from one of the other footman, so it won’t be remarked if he goes in there tomorrow morning. He can search for the robe.”

“Yes, if Babington has not already destroyed it. That would be the first thing I would do if I were he—toss it into the fire as soon as I got back and let it burn while everyone is downstairs talking about the incident.”

“Not if you intended to use it again,” Olivia pointed out. “How could you be certain that you might not have to trot out the ghost for another fright? I wouldn’t imagine they think you are going to give in easily.”

“I’m not so sure that I would want to have to carry it back into the house, either,” Stephen said thoughtfully. “I mean, here I am—I run off into the lower garden. I know there is bound to be pursuit soon. So I strip off the robe and mask—presuming that the skull face is some sort of mask.”

Olivia nodded. “That would seem far easier than disguising one’s face with phosphorescent paint. After all, then you would have to take the time to wipe it all off before you slipped back into the house, and what if you missed some of it and ran into someone and they saw it? The game would be up.”

“That’s the crux of the problem—running into someone. The fellow has to get back into the house, and there are going to be people running around outside and in after something like that. One could hope to slip in a side door, and then, if someone comes upon you out in the garden, you can say that you, too, are looking for the ‘ghost.’ And once inside, you can just pretend to have been in another part of the house and have come to see what all the fuss is. But it would be a little difficult to explain why you are carrying a robe and mask with you.”