Lord Melvedere's Ghost by Rebecca King

the
gardens; perfect to use as a temporary escape.
    Outside
the air was crisp and inviting. The gentle waft of roses assailed
her nostrils as she meandered through the scattered flowers toward
the vast expanse of lawn that stretched to the edge of the large
woods.
    Half way
across the lawn, Cecily felt a prickling sensation between her
shoulder blades and paused, staring down at her feet in
consideration. Should she turn around and see if anyone was
watching? If she was being placed under house arrest, it was
inevitable that someone would watch her. What would she do if she
saw someone, wave unconcernedly or ignore them? Deciding she didn’t
really care, her thoughts turned toward the events in the kitchen.
Clearly the staff didn’t have any idea of Jamie’s chosen career
path, or maybe they did. Maybe Jamie always brought a lady home
while he ‘rested’.
    She
glanced up at the trees now lying several feet away and froze when
the memory of her conversation with Doreen, and Jamie, this morning
came back to her. Mrs Nantwich was supposed to be going into town
for a change of clothing for her, yet there had been no mention of
the new items. Sighing she glanced down at her smudged and slightly
smelly clothing, and wondered if she was going to be confined to
her room now too. After all, she could hardly sit at the dining
table looking like a vagabond, fresh from a farmyard. She could
hardly pressure Jamie into purchasing her clothing and as she
hadn’t any money to buy anything, nor was likely to be able to get
hold of any soon to pay him back. There was little she could do. It
wasn’t lost on her that right at that moment she was completely
reliant upon Jamie’s generosity for food and a roof over her head
and, as a result, she was indeed a prisoner, albeit one of her own
making.
    Her
thoughts turned briefly to the small pouch of meagre belongings
Jamie had taken from her when she had parted company with Portia,
and she made a mental note to ask him about them later.
    As she
ambled across the grass, her thoughts turned to her current
predicament. She could of course, return home to her father, but
that would mean she would have to report what had happened to both
herself and Portia, while admitting that Portia was still in the
presence of an unnamed gentleman, going heaven knew where, being
chased by French spies. She couldn’t write a book about it, the
story was too fantastic. Even if her father did believe her, she
was effectively ruined. Both of them were. Her father would make
her life a misery.
    She
watched Basil sniff around in the undergrowth as he followed the
meandering path through the woods, and followed him along the well
trodden path. A few minutes later she heard the faint trickling of
flowing water and sighed with delight when she caught sight of a
small stream haphazardly jostling through a row of tumbled stones.
It wasn’t very big, but the water was clear and crisp. Perching
precariously upon a rock at the very edge of the water, she dropped
her chin onto her knees and thought back to the events of the
afternoon when she had last sat beside such a stream with Portia.
She wasn’t sure if she would ever make sense of what had happened
to them, or why. In order to make sense of it, she had to ask Jamie
and Jonathan, but they were sequestered in the study with strict
instructions that they weren’t to be disturbed. What would happen
when they came out heaven only knew, but Cecily realised that she
had to make a few decisions of her own.
    At some
point they would decide it was going to be safe to leave. What
would happen then? Where could she go? She had no real relations
she could call upon who would willingly provide a home. Their aunt,
although kindly in nature, hated their father and was relatively
unknown to them. Given the dangers of the past few days, it wasn’t
fair to bring such troubles to her aunt’s doorstep. By turning up
unannounced and uninvited, with such trouble lurking behind her,
she