They believed in spirits, too, did they not?" She wasn't exactly sure if they had or not, but she certainly hoped it was so. If only she had finished reading his book!
"Rational thinkers rejected such superstitions," he said uncertainly.
"Would you doubt the rationality of your own eyes?" Cassie argued. "Did you not see them yourself? Right here? And they cannot be a dream or hallucination, because we all saw them."
Phillip took her hand and looked up steadily into her eyes. "But what are they? Tell me, Cassandra. I must know."
Cassie shook her head. This was something she had wondered herself, but then she had come to the conclusion that it was simply unknowable. "I do not know exactly. They are the spirits of people who have lived here before, but I don't know why they are still here. They do not even know. But perhaps Lady Lettice can tell us something."
He shook his head and pulled away from her. The color had returned to his face, but now he looked angry and confused. He stood up and paced across the tunnel, his arms crossed. "Then if you cannot tell me the purpose, the truth, of this, why have you done it?"
"Because we do not know, of course!" Cassie said, confused. She had seen him cynical and doubting, and stuffy and smart, but never angry. Now he strolled the narrow periphery of the tunnel, kicking out at the extinguished candles, the spent piles of herbs. "We—we thought we might learn something..."
"Did you have to do it here?" he said, staring at her with burning eyes. "Perhaps things of this sort are usual in Jamaica, but we are in England. This has no place in a civilized, ordered society." He gave her one more glare for good measure. "No place."
Then he turned and stormed out of the tunnel.
Cassie was stunned. She would not have guessed that Phillip had such depths of temper in him. She had disrupted the calm, unruffled order of his life, and now he was unsure. She completely understood his feelings.
But why did he have to take out his anger on her? She had meant no harm at all. She had only wanted to help him see beyond his blasted logic, to expand his horizons.
It appeared she had made a great mistake. After all, some people did not want their horizons expanded. She would not have thought that Phillip, a scholar, would be one of them.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She wiped at them fiercely with the back of her hand, squared her shoulders, and marched out of the tunnel. Standing about feeling sorry for herself would do no one any good at all.
And she was not about to let such an old fusty-musty as Lord Royce ruin her pleasure in the successful ceremony!
On the beach, the four ghosts were gathered near the water, whispering and gesturing. The only thing that could be heard from them was the clatter of Sir Belvedere's armor and the jingle of Angelo's bells.
Antoinette was sitting down on a large rock, looking thoroughly exhausted but also exultant. She held her mother's book against her, stroking her hand over the worn leather cover.
Chat and Lady Royce hovered near her, talking excitedly. When Cassie emerged into the moonlight, they hurried over to her.
"Cassie, dear, are you quite all right?" Chat said worriedly. "We saw Lord Royce come stomping past earlier. Did you quarrel?"
Cassie gave them a weak smile. "He is rather angry over what happened tonight. I tried to talk to him, but..."
"Of course he is angry!" Lady Royce cried. "He would never listen to me before, never even consider that the castle might be haunted. Now he has been proven wrong, proven wrong by women, and he is upset. Such a man. I cannot believe I raised him."
Cassie thought there was probably more to it than that, but she was too tired to talk about it, or even think about it any more tonight.
"I am sure you are right, Lady Royce," she answered.
"We will all talk to him tomorrow," Lady Royce said. "I am sure he will see sense in the clear light of day." She did not seem to realize the irony of having ghosts be
"Rational thinkers rejected such superstitions," he said uncertainly.
"Would you doubt the rationality of your own eyes?" Cassie argued. "Did you not see them yourself? Right here? And they cannot be a dream or hallucination, because we all saw them."
Phillip took her hand and looked up steadily into her eyes. "But what are they? Tell me, Cassandra. I must know."
Cassie shook her head. This was something she had wondered herself, but then she had come to the conclusion that it was simply unknowable. "I do not know exactly. They are the spirits of people who have lived here before, but I don't know why they are still here. They do not even know. But perhaps Lady Lettice can tell us something."
He shook his head and pulled away from her. The color had returned to his face, but now he looked angry and confused. He stood up and paced across the tunnel, his arms crossed. "Then if you cannot tell me the purpose, the truth, of this, why have you done it?"
"Because we do not know, of course!" Cassie said, confused. She had seen him cynical and doubting, and stuffy and smart, but never angry. Now he strolled the narrow periphery of the tunnel, kicking out at the extinguished candles, the spent piles of herbs. "We—we thought we might learn something..."
"Did you have to do it here?" he said, staring at her with burning eyes. "Perhaps things of this sort are usual in Jamaica, but we are in England. This has no place in a civilized, ordered society." He gave her one more glare for good measure. "No place."
Then he turned and stormed out of the tunnel.
Cassie was stunned. She would not have guessed that Phillip had such depths of temper in him. She had disrupted the calm, unruffled order of his life, and now he was unsure. She completely understood his feelings.
But why did he have to take out his anger on her? She had meant no harm at all. She had only wanted to help him see beyond his blasted logic, to expand his horizons.
It appeared she had made a great mistake. After all, some people did not want their horizons expanded. She would not have thought that Phillip, a scholar, would be one of them.
Her eyes stung with unshed tears. She wiped at them fiercely with the back of her hand, squared her shoulders, and marched out of the tunnel. Standing about feeling sorry for herself would do no one any good at all.
And she was not about to let such an old fusty-musty as Lord Royce ruin her pleasure in the successful ceremony!
On the beach, the four ghosts were gathered near the water, whispering and gesturing. The only thing that could be heard from them was the clatter of Sir Belvedere's armor and the jingle of Angelo's bells.
Antoinette was sitting down on a large rock, looking thoroughly exhausted but also exultant. She held her mother's book against her, stroking her hand over the worn leather cover.
Chat and Lady Royce hovered near her, talking excitedly. When Cassie emerged into the moonlight, they hurried over to her.
"Cassie, dear, are you quite all right?" Chat said worriedly. "We saw Lord Royce come stomping past earlier. Did you quarrel?"
Cassie gave them a weak smile. "He is rather angry over what happened tonight. I tried to talk to him, but..."
"Of course he is angry!" Lady Royce cried. "He would never listen to me before, never even consider that the castle might be haunted. Now he has been proven wrong, proven wrong by women, and he is upset. Such a man. I cannot believe I raised him."
Cassie thought there was probably more to it than that, but she was too tired to talk about it, or even think about it any more tonight.
"I am sure you are right, Lady Royce," she answered.
"We will all talk to him tomorrow," Lady Royce said. "I am sure he will see sense in the clear light of day." She did not seem to realize the irony of having ghosts be
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