No one else seemed to have heard it. No servants came running.
She glanced up and down the hall, debating what to do, then tiptoed up the stairs. She stopped when she was high enough up the staircase to lean forward, hands on a stair tread above, and peek around the balustrade to look down the hallway, her head just above the floorboards.
Lord Ravencroft sat on the floor next to an open doorway, his legs folded tailor style. He cuddled a red-haired girl of about four on his lap, his other arm around Matthew, who sat on the floor beside him. Two girls, about eight and twelve, sat on the floor a few feet away in front of him. Seated on the footman’s bench outside the bedchamber doorway, a girl of about fourteen patted the governess’s shoulder, comforting her. All of the children were dressed for bed. Only two candle sconces were lit, leaving eerie shadows flickering in the hall.
“And then what?” the little girl on Ravencroft’s lap demanded.
“Then the troll said,” Ravencroft replied in his normal speaking voice, then dropped at least two octaves, “if you want to cross the bridge, you must pay the toll.”
“But what if I don’t have money for the toll?” Matthew asked.
“Then I will eat you for dinner!” Ravencroft replied in a gravelly, breathy growl. He tipped his head back and let out a demonic laugh. The candlelight and shadows fell across his face and open mouth in a way that made his teeth seem more prominent, especially his canines.
Fangs.
The younger girls screamed in mock horror. The governess made the sign of the cross. Matthew chuckled.
Ashley held her hand to her pounding heart. Well, fangs only if one were in a fanciful mood. Or being confronted by what one thought was a demon, on a dark street.
“The moral of the story,” Ravencroft continued in his speaking voice, “is—”
“Always carry toll money!” the children shouted in unison.
“Very good.” He gave the child on his lap a squeeze and a kiss on her cheek. The little girl twisted to give him a hug and a kiss in return, then clambered to her feet. After a flurry of hugs and kisses and wishes for sweet dreams, the governess and older girls ushered the children into their rooms.
Ashley quickly retreated down the stairs and back to the music room, her mind racing even faster than her feet as she took her seat.
Georgia was playing Deirdre’s violin, as everyone had shifted seats again while Ashley was gone, and she was now expected to take a turn playing the lyre.
There were too many people present to discuss what she’d just seen. But did she want to share what she’d just seen, even with Georgia?
As she tried to play the lyre, Ashley held her new knowledge about Ravencroft’s secret to herself, like hugging a warm blanket on a cold winter’s night.
* * *
David waited until everyone was in their room before he awkwardly climbed to his feet and dusted himself off. Diana would ring a peal over him if the new governess quit. He’d forgotten the previous one had returned to Berkshire to tend an ailing relative, and this one was so new she had never heard any of his bedtime stories before. He hoped she hadn’t soiled herself when she screamed.
He retrieved a honey and lemon pastille from the snuffbox he carried in his coat pocket and popped it in his mouth to soothe his irritated throat. The growls and falsetto notes were the most taxing. The bedtime tale, on top of the singing he’d done in rehearsal and after dinner, was far more voice work than he’d done in years. He was definitely out of practice.
Downstairs, everyone else was putting away their instruments and music, so he started to tuck his great-grandfather’s viola da gamba in its case.
“Aunt Connie,” he heard Parker say, “would you mind dropping off Deirdre and me on your way home?”
“You’re not riding with Ravencroft?”
David could feel his aunt’s eyes on him. He stayed studiously busy with the straps to secure the bow in the case and did not look up.
“He and Uncle Liam rode their horses over, but he’s not staying at the Ravencroft townhouse. He’s letting us have it to ourselves for the Season. A first anniversary gift, he said.”
“Surely the house is sufficiently large enough that all three of you could stay there and not see or hear each other if you chose.”
Parker coughed. From the corner of his eye, David saw Deirdre blush. He closed the instrument case and stored it in the cupboard.
Parker’s voice was barely audible. “You know he still hasn’t set foot inside since … since he inherited.”
Aunt Connie let out an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I had just hoped that by now, he… never mind. Come along, dear child, and we’ll get you home.” Aunt Connie held her arm out for Deirdre, and the three of them said their good nights and left the music room.
David made sure the other instruments were secure before looking for Liam to see if he was ready to leave. His friend stood in a cluster around the tea tray chatting with Georgia, Clarissa, Norcross, and Miss Hamlin.
