Page 11 of The Grey Lady of the Manor

He heard Letty whimper as the scattered image came together once more, and now he could see beyond a doubt the form of a woman, face-down in the water. The wraith’s long hair fanned out around her head and her fists, starkly white, were thrust out in front of her. Grey skirts clung and twisted around her legs.

Even though he knew it was too late—probably centuries too late—he was poised to leap down from the bridge until Letty’s touch yanked him back to reality.

“It’s the Grey Lady, isn’t it? Lady Patience,” she whispered. “Now do you believe in ghosts?”

He slipped an arm around her waist and drew her to him, whether for her comfort or for his, he knew not. But the warmth of Letty’s body dragged him back from the gaping tombs of the dead to sunlit reality, and as he stared and blinked at the floating corpse, it vanished.

He rubbed a hand across his eyes. All his certainties, all his comforting beliefs, were crumbling away.

He felt Letty tremble and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “Well, Maid—I see I may have to revise my views. But I disapprove of ghosts, and I fully intend to prevent them persecuting you.”

He only hoped he could think of something. It had become essential that he should free Letty Carter from all her troubles. And by doing so, perhaps he’d be able to resolve his own.

Chapter Eight

Letty awoke to sounds of screaming and raging. Leaping from her bed, she threw her kirtle over her shift and clambered down the ladder to see what was amiss. Goodwife Prudence was apt to make a scene over nothing, but she’d never heard her sound as overset as this before.

There was no one below, but the door leading to the yard was wide open, affording her a view of the vegetable garden full of figures and flying feathers.

“Get a besom—beat them out of here. Don’t just stand there gawping, Lettice, you laggard! Do as I say, or I’ll see to it that you won’t be able to sit on your lazy backside for a week!”

Despite her stepmother’s threats, the scene before Letty was almost comical. Father, trying to hold up his untied hose with one hand, was struggling to herd a flock of uncooperative grey geese toward the garden gate. Goody Prudence, her kirtle undone and her huge bosom flopping about unsupported—but mercifully concealed by her shift—was trying to prod the geese away with the poker.

“Do something, Lettice! They’ve have trampled all the seedlings and nibbled off the new shoots. The peppermint’s been torn to shreds, and the sorrel and fat-hen entirely uprooted. My beautiful garden! It looks like a battle’s been waged. I knew something was in the wind when King Edward died so young—dire things lie ahead for us all!”

Letty shook her head and began waving her skirts and clapping at the geese. It seemed a shame to spoil the birds’ fun, and it was a delight to see her stepmother so enraged. But she dared not enjoy this spectacle for long—any damage the geese did could deny them all a tasty supper and give her even more work to do to put all to rights again.

“Mark my words! This is just the beginning!” her stepmother proclaimed as the geese bobbed and hissed their way out onto the lane. “It’s a portent of terrible times to come. There’ll be strange lights in the sky, a murrain of the cattle, showers of blood coming down from the clouds! I learned all about these things from the old priests.”

Letty closed the gate behind the geese, battling hysterical laughter. Honestly, how could Goody Prue believe such things? Jane Grey and Princess Mary Tudor were contesting the throne of England, aye, but surely, this was not the first time such a thing had happened? And nobody really believed in rains of blood and portents of doom anymore. Did they?

She was just pondering if her own conviction on the existence of ghosts was similarly laughable when a movement caught her eye. Someone stood in the shadow of the hawthorn bushes flanking the cottages opposite.

Her heart stilled—for a terrifying moment, she feared it was the blacksmith’s shade. Had he brought about this latest catastrophe? Why was this vengeful spirit so determined to do her mischief?

Next instant, the figure resolved itself into the form of Perkin Merrick, grinning smugly as he gave her a gallant bow.

He was behind this? This was beyond the pale. She’d imagined that they were friends now, after he’d walked her all the way to the market the other day, entertaining her with his tall tales.

A heavy hand landed on her shoulder, spinning her around to face the blazing fury of her stepmother.

“You did this, you feckless dolt. You let those stupid birds you’re so fond of into my garden. I’ll make their owners pay—your fancy friends up at the manor will be most displeased. They’ll turn you off, and then you’ll have to do your duty and look after your father and me. But not before you’ve been rightfully punished.”

Letty, aware that some of the neighbors had gathered to enjoy the performance, lowered her voice. “They are not geese from the manor. Theirs are mostly white, whereas these are grey.”

“Don’t talk back to me, girl!” A stinging slap across the face reopened the split lip Letty had received two days earlier. Tears pricked her eyes.

“I did not let the geese in the garden. I was in bed—you know that.”

“Aye, lazy slug-a-bed that you are. You must have let them in last night. Your defiance can no longer be tolerated. You will not leave this house again without my permission—do you understand?”

To emphasize her pronouncement, Prue struck Letty again, making her ears ring and sending her reeling. Why was Father doing nothing to stop his wife? Did he not care for his daughter at all?

Suddenly, a figure loomed between Letty and her stepmother. She gaped in shock as Perkin Merrick seized Prue’s wrists in his hands and held them firmly at her sides.

“Desist, Goodwife. The fault is mine, not your daughter’s. If you wish to set about someone with your fists, pray—make me your target.”

Letty stepped to his side and immediately felt the comforting warmth of his presence. Until now, she hadn’t appreciated how tall he was, nor how broad across the shoulders. Though he was probably accentuating his assets to impress her stepmother.