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I t was midday when they arrived at Lady Pendleton’s grand castle. The impressive stone structure loomed against the pale sky, its tower reaching up like an accusing finger. Though apparently mostly unused, today the castle stirred with new life.

Really, Amelia decided, as she stepped out of their carriage, its only resemblance to a ghost-ridden castle in some fairytale was the castle tower which, Amelia was informed by the housekeeper as she led her and Edward towards the drawing room, could be reached only by some crumbling stairs.

Lady Pendleton was already welcoming the first of the guests when they were announced, and in the middle of explaining the layout of the castle.

“But while the tower cannot be safely accessed and so will be out of bounds, there are many other hiding places and unexpected nooks and crannies that no doubt harbor all the ghosties and ghoulies we could wish for,” she said, as she gestured toward the comfortable chairs.

“Do sit down while the servants take your trunks to your rooms. Miss Playford and Miss Penny arrived a short while ago with their aunt and mama who are out in the garden. I believe you have already been introduced?”

Edward sent his sister a significant look as they nodded at the two young ladies, Miss Playford’s golden curls bright in the sunlight streaming through the tall windows.

“It’s going to be such an exciting weekend,” Miss Penny said with girlish enthusiasm. “Miss Playford and I have made a wager as to who will discover the first ghost.”

“But you don’t really believe in ghosts, do you?” Amelia asked before she could stop herself.

“But of course! I mean, how could I not?” replied the young lady before shrugging prettily. “I dare say we’ll all know whether they do or don’t before we go home.”

“Hopefully unscathed,” Edward said with dark portent and a twinkle in his eye, causing both young ladies to titter and exchange glances.

“Though hopefully there will be some handsome gentlemen on hand to rescue us,” Miss Playford added, smoothing her already immaculate skirts.

“That is why my aunt decided she was prepared to travel farther than she usually does. She also says if I scream and jump onto a chair if I see a mouse, then this should get me used to anything.” She glanced toward the doorway as if hoping a particular gentleman might materialize.

“Do you believe in ghosts, Miss Fairchild?”

“Not in the slightest,” Amelia said, straightening her spine.

“Ghosts are nothing but a ridiculous concept used by charlatans to further their own ends but if you’re happy for a handsome gentleman to rescue you from a mythical being that in your heart you know doesn’t exist, then that’s what we’re here for.

Nothing but a bit of fun and frivolity.”

“That’s not really what you’re renowned for, is it, Miss Fairchild?

” came a familiar voice from the doorway, and Amelia’s heart gave a surprising leap as she swung round and found herself looking up into Sir Frederick’s amused countenance.

He filled the doorframe with his broad shoulders, and Amelia noticed with irritation how both Miss Ps immediately sat straighter, their faces brightening.

But then, that’s what they were all there for. For one of them, at least, to win his heart.

“Excuse me?” Amelia responded with prickly pride as he strode across the floor. “I have as much desire for enjoyment as anyone here.”

“But your book learning is more important to you than fun and frivolity. Please, my remark was meant as a compliment,” he went on as he leaned an elbow on the mantelpiece and smiled at the seated young ladies.

But the way the young ladies looked at Amelia suggested that a love of book learning was a dubious attribute.

“It is true that the characters in books disappoint me less frequently than in real life,” Amelia said, looking down at her fingers as they folded the fabric of her muslin skirts.

While her gown was of good quality, she was not dressed as fashionably as the Miss Ps, who seemed to have coordinated their ensembles in shades of spring green and pale pink.

It was in fact Amelia’s Mama who had insisted on selecting the gowns Amelia was to take with her for the weekend party, saying she feared Amelia’s predilection for the sober and severe would dampen her already muted propensity for fun and frivolity.

The deep blue of her current gown at least brought out her eyes, though she noticed Sir Frederick’s gaze lingering on Miss Penny’s more modish costume.

“Goodness, Amelia,” her mother had admonished her, “you’ve already started to dress like a staid spinster or bluestocking as I think they call girls like you which is not a compliment.

And you haven’t even begun your new life in the country which I still think is a mistake you’ll learn soon enough when you discover that being alone is… lonely.”

Amelia had countered that with all her lovely books to keep her company, she could never feel alone.

Now she felt herself coloring at Sir Frederick’s considered contemplation and grappled for the first thing she could think of.

“Lady Pendleton says there is a particularly troublesome ghost who floats between the tower—which I understand is unsafe to visit—and the library. Do you have any ideas as to how it can be rendered… untroublesome to be helpful to our hostess?”

Lady Pendleton turned from the conversation she was having near the doorway with Lord Thornton who’d just arrived.

“Indeed, if only someone could send the troublesome spirit away during our ghost hunting! I’ve never seen it, but I can’t tell you the number of guests who say they have.

It’s the main reason I dislike coming here though Lord Pendleton enjoys his fishing and hunting here very much.

Generally, I will not accompany him for I get so many complaints from guests who say they can’t sleep because of its moaning and clattering. ”

Amelia noticed the amusement on Sir Frederick’s countenance and considered this one of the few things they had in common: a skepticism for ghosts.

“My goodness, who is this ghost, Lady Pendleton?” asked Miss Playford.

Lady Pendleton lowered her voice. “It is the ghost of my great-great aunt. Some say she died after she tried to escape from the tower attempting to elope with one of the grooms, though others claim that’s just a myth.

There she is.” She pointed to a small portrait hanging on the wall.

“Now, apparently, her ghost makes a habit of wailing in the tower at all hours of the night, though I do believe it’s really the wind.

Never mind that Pendleton doesn’t hear a thing.

He’s as deaf as a door post at the best of times.

But you, young ladies, and my other guests, I will be most interested in what you report in the morning. ”

Amelia studied the portrait more closely, noting the book clutched in the subject’s hands and the intelligence in her eyes. Somehow, this didn’t look like a woman foolish enough to throw her life away for a mere stable hand.

“Yes, indeed. And we shall have to deal severely with this ghost, will we not, Lady Pendleton?” said Sir Frederick, moving behind Miss Playford’s chair.

“This ghost-hunting weekend will hardly be a success if we cannot at least ensure that the spirit of your great-great aunt is laid to rest so that you can get yours. What did you say her name was?”

“Pernilla,” said Lady Pendleton, her tone dismissive. “Poor, pathetic Pernilla.”

Conscious of Sir Frederick’s eyes upon her, Amelia resisted making eye contact though her skin felt unaccountably warmed by his attention.

He should be conversing with the Miss Ps, she thought, rising.

“If you’ll excuse me, I will rest awhile before I ready myself for the Masquerade Ball tonight,” she said. “Especially if I run the risk of a sleepless night due to Pernilla’s ghostly wailing,” she added with a poor attempt at a joke. “Come, Edward.”

But her brother just grinned at her, his appreciative gaze lingering on the young ladies and Amelia had to use all her training not to snap at him as a big sister would have any reason to do.