his son. That means I’m not his granddaughter.”
“Verity, he regrets that very much,” said Jenna.
Besides , I re - inherited him .
“Besides,” she continued, “your father was reinstated.”
“How would you know that?”
Jenna bit her lip. “I…just do. Believe me, Verity. His lordship regrets it.”
“You said he regrets it. Twice .” She stared at her aunt.
“Did I?” A rosy tint had Jenna looking healthier for a moment until the flush faded. “Slip of the tongue?”
“Was it?” asked Mary.
“Why would you even ask?” asked Jenna, not looking at either of her guests.
Mary looked from one to the other and smiled. As she’d told Jacob earlier that evening, she’d lived in a number of different societies and knew many that believed in ghosts. And she’d a notion of exactly why Verity asked. Verity’s father had told her the house in Italy in which they lived so cheaply was cheap because it was supposed to be haunted. She suspected, from something the then-sixteen-year-old Verity said at the time, that the chit knew that ghost very well indeed, perhaps talked with it.
Verity looked from Mary’s twinkling eyes to her aunt’s glower. Verity had talked to the ghost of the young girl who’d died there in the room Verity and her sister occupied, died tragically at about the age Verity was then. She remembered hearing her father telling Aunt Mary about their ghost in a joking disbelieving way. She sighed. “Is my grandfather’s ghost living with us?” she asked.
“Ghost?” asked Jenna, hiding her surprise. “You believe in ghosts ?” In her ear her lover laughed softly.
“Yes.”
Jenna’s face lost all expression. “You do ?”
“When you’ve lived with one for a couple of decades, you have to believe in them.”
“Nonsense.”
“ Not . But I’ll not argue. If you’ve not experienced one then you don’t have the least notion.” She shrugged. “If you have—” Verity closed her mouth with a snap, said good night to both her aunts and left.
“Does Father talk to you?” asked Mary.
“You too?” demanded Jenna.
Mary shrugged. “I’ll never say anything is impossible. I’ve lived with too many different beliefs, experienced too many strange things, learned so very much is true that our scholars insist is impossible . If my father still exists in this plane of life…” She shut her mouth and looked into the far distance. Then sighed. “He never approved,” she said. She looked at Jenna. “Of my travels, you know?”
“No. He didn’t. He was very glad when you came home to stay.”
“Stay?” Mary sighed. “Oh, I hope not.” But , she thought, I can ’ t travel again until my enemy and I come to … terms .
“How can you want to leave the comfort of your own home?” asked Jenna, wishing to understand.
“How can I not wish it? There is so much of the world I’ve not yet seen. I think,” said Mary in a musing voice, “that I’ll go west next time. I’d like to see those wild Indians in our colonies—er, our old colonies? The new United States? Anyway, I want to learn how they live, talk to their healers.” She shrugged. “There is so much to learn , Jenna.”
Jenna shifted, uncomfortable with such talk. “I will never understand. You’ve learned a lot and seen a lot, I’m sure, but how you can bear the dirt and stink and awful food and the discomfort of travel…” She shook her head. “No, I’ll never understand.” She smiled. “But if it makes you happy then you do it.”
“But not just now.”
“No.” They meant different things but Jenna couldn’t know that. Her mind drifted to the possibility of a marriage between her niece and Jacob. “Do you think,” she asked, “that it is possible my niece and your cousin might come to an understanding?”
Mary cast Jenna a startled look. “You’d approve?”
Jenna smiled tightly. “Not really, but I worry about her. There is no question that she has the family’s blood in
“Verity, he regrets that very much,” said Jenna.
Besides , I re - inherited him .
“Besides,” she continued, “your father was reinstated.”
“How would you know that?”
Jenna bit her lip. “I…just do. Believe me, Verity. His lordship regrets it.”
“You said he regrets it. Twice .” She stared at her aunt.
“Did I?” A rosy tint had Jenna looking healthier for a moment until the flush faded. “Slip of the tongue?”
“Was it?” asked Mary.
“Why would you even ask?” asked Jenna, not looking at either of her guests.
Mary looked from one to the other and smiled. As she’d told Jacob earlier that evening, she’d lived in a number of different societies and knew many that believed in ghosts. And she’d a notion of exactly why Verity asked. Verity’s father had told her the house in Italy in which they lived so cheaply was cheap because it was supposed to be haunted. She suspected, from something the then-sixteen-year-old Verity said at the time, that the chit knew that ghost very well indeed, perhaps talked with it.
Verity looked from Mary’s twinkling eyes to her aunt’s glower. Verity had talked to the ghost of the young girl who’d died there in the room Verity and her sister occupied, died tragically at about the age Verity was then. She remembered hearing her father telling Aunt Mary about their ghost in a joking disbelieving way. She sighed. “Is my grandfather’s ghost living with us?” she asked.
“Ghost?” asked Jenna, hiding her surprise. “You believe in ghosts ?” In her ear her lover laughed softly.
“Yes.”
Jenna’s face lost all expression. “You do ?”
“When you’ve lived with one for a couple of decades, you have to believe in them.”
“Nonsense.”
“ Not . But I’ll not argue. If you’ve not experienced one then you don’t have the least notion.” She shrugged. “If you have—” Verity closed her mouth with a snap, said good night to both her aunts and left.
“Does Father talk to you?” asked Mary.
“You too?” demanded Jenna.
Mary shrugged. “I’ll never say anything is impossible. I’ve lived with too many different beliefs, experienced too many strange things, learned so very much is true that our scholars insist is impossible . If my father still exists in this plane of life…” She shut her mouth and looked into the far distance. Then sighed. “He never approved,” she said. She looked at Jenna. “Of my travels, you know?”
“No. He didn’t. He was very glad when you came home to stay.”
“Stay?” Mary sighed. “Oh, I hope not.” But , she thought, I can ’ t travel again until my enemy and I come to … terms .
“How can you want to leave the comfort of your own home?” asked Jenna, wishing to understand.
“How can I not wish it? There is so much of the world I’ve not yet seen. I think,” said Mary in a musing voice, “that I’ll go west next time. I’d like to see those wild Indians in our colonies—er, our old colonies? The new United States? Anyway, I want to learn how they live, talk to their healers.” She shrugged. “There is so much to learn , Jenna.”
Jenna shifted, uncomfortable with such talk. “I will never understand. You’ve learned a lot and seen a lot, I’m sure, but how you can bear the dirt and stink and awful food and the discomfort of travel…” She shook her head. “No, I’ll never understand.” She smiled. “But if it makes you happy then you do it.”
“But not just now.”
“No.” They meant different things but Jenna couldn’t know that. Her mind drifted to the possibility of a marriage between her niece and Jacob. “Do you think,” she asked, “that it is possible my niece and your cousin might come to an understanding?”
Mary cast Jenna a startled look. “You’d approve?”
Jenna smiled tightly. “Not really, but I worry about her. There is no question that she has the family’s blood in
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