Chapter 5

Phileas, for a second time that night, came bolt upright out of bed. This time it was not for cryptic dreams but for the sound of his bedroom door bursting open. An apparition in white came running at him calling his name. In reflex, Phileas acted. As the intruder grabbed his shoulders, he grappled with it, twisted, and pinned it to the mattress. Before he knew what he was doing or whom he had, Phileas had rendered the intruder immobile and silent. Seconds later, he came fully aware of himself and what had happened. He was still confused even with all the information available. Rebecca's body twisted around him pinned down under his weight. Her bright red hair was hung down over the side of the bed in a thick braid. She had a wild look in her eyes and was cold as ice to the touch. He pulled his hand off her mouth.

"What the devil are you doing in here?"

"What the devil indeed?" Rebecca said. "Do get off me Phileas and get dressed. We are going to London, right now. I am not staying in this inn a moment longer!"

That was no explanation for her bursting in on him or startling him so badly. Phileas gained a little more awareness. I'm in bed with my cousin, in a very compromising position. He noticed her dress, or lack of one. The gentleman in him took over. Phileas transferred the blanket to cover her body completely, and then ordered Rebecca to look the other way while he got off the bed. As he dressed, she faced a wall talking gibberish about a ghost coming to her room and ordering her out into the storm to London. A storm, by the way, that was still carrying on like an outraged lion.

"I cannot believe you are voicing such nonsense!" Phileas said, interrupting. "This inn and the ghost stories we heard at dinner are getting to you. I can understand you being upset about Richard's death, but this is above all, Rebecca!" Phileas had his shirt on, pulled up his stockings and trousers, and shrugged into his waistcoat but did not button it. Sufficiently decent, he scooped up his cousin along with his only blanket, as if she were a child, and carried Rebecca back to her room, protests, and all.

Both doors were still standing open. Phileas walked through them, putting Rebecca down on her bed. He took a quick survey of the room. "I see no ghosts or odd shadows. I think, cousin, that you were the victim of nothing more than a disquieting dream. I had one of my own earlier," he said. "The storm or the stories, I do not know which. Either reason is no excuse for imagining Richard's shade roaming this inn."

At the end of his string of irritated pronouncements, Phileas turned again to look down on his cousin. What he saw nearly broke his heart. Rebecca was completely disheveled. Her hair had come loose. It made a red silk curtain, shrouding her shoulders and back. She was sitting up, clutching at the blankets to keep herself properly covered, while her eyes darted about the room watching for monsters to jump out of the shadows. For a moment she looked like the frightened little girl who had come to his home years ago after the death of her parents.

Phileas lost all his anger and knelt beside her on the floor. "I am sorry Rebecca. I did not mean to be insensitive to your grief. I did not know you and Richard were such good friends. Please forgive me." He took Rebecca's hands in his to focus her attention on him. "I doubt either one of us will get any sleep at this point. If you wish, I will sit up with you downstairs until morning. I promise, we will leave the moment this storm clears enough to travel safely. Until then you really must get hold of yourself. Your friend is dead, lost in the service of his country. That is useless cold comfort, I know. But please, do not continue to torture yourself with these imaginings."

Rebecca choked down her frustration. She wanted to defend herself but knew anything she said would sound ridiculous. Everything she had said thus far sounded ridiculous, even to her own ears, so why should her cousin think any differently? Gathering her shattered wits about her again, Rebecca nodded agreement. Phileas smiled up to her, squeezing her hand for comfort, and stood turning to leave so she could dress.

"Phileas, please…" Rebecca called out before she could stop herself. She did not want to be in this room alone again. She did not want to sound like a frightened fool again either, but there was no help for it.

"Stay with me?"