Page 38 of Mesmerized

“But how else could it have happened?”

Olivia simply looked at him. There was nothing that could have accounted for their shared dream or for the earlier vision of the woman in the great hall.

“There is another thing,” Stephen said after a moment. “I—I think I have dreamed about these people before.”

“What!”

“While I was still in London, I had a dream. In it, I felt as if I were the same man, as if I were seeing through his eyes. But it was in an old castle. The steps were stone and curved around and up to a tower room. It was no place I’d ever seen before, but in the dream I knew it. It was home. I was fighting—for my life, the way it felt. I held a sword, not a light sword or a fencing foil, but a broadsword. I was dressed in chain mail. And behind me was a woman. I didn’t see her—I could not look back, because I was fighting—but I could sense her there, and I knew her. She was—I think she was—the lady of the castle and I was sworn to protect her. But there was something more—a deeper emotion, something beyond duty and loyalty. It was the same couple. I am sure of it. I felt as if I were the same man, if that makes any sense.” He paused and glanced at Olivia. She looked stunned. “You probably think I am mad.”

“No. No, I don’t.” Olivia stood up. “I dreamed of them before, too. I recognized that woman when we saw her in the hall. I had dreamed about her the day before—her and the man. She was drying her hair in front of the fire in my room—only it wasn’t my room, but another room, with rushes on the floor and a bigger fireplace. Then he came in and knelt beside her. It was Sir John. At first I thought she was there, that I was actually lying there looking at her, but then I awoke and realized it had been a dream. When we saw her walk across the room, I knew it was the same woman.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I was afraid you would think I was insane!” Olivia retorted. “It was so bizarre, and everyone half believes we Morelands are all mad, anyway. I didn’t want you to look at me as if I should be locked away.”

“I don’t think you’re mad. I don’t think I’m mad. I just cannot explain, in a rational manner anything that has happened.”

“What should we do?”

“I don’t know. I did some research today. I went to Belinda and asked her about that paper her tutor had her write. She went up to the nursery and dug out the books she had used for it. And I found a chap named Sir Raymond.”

Olivia gaped at him. “Here? At Blackhope?”

“He owned Blackhope long before the St. Legers took over. He was an ancestor of the Lord Scorhill who lost the place to Henry VIII. Sir Raymond lived here during the reign of Henry II.”

Olivia felt as if someone had punched her in the stomach.

Stephen, watching her, nodded. “I know. I had the same reaction.”

“Then these people we saw really existed? They lived here in the twelfth century?”

“I don’t know. I saw no mention of Sir Raymond’s wife or of anyone named Sir John. But it would be unlikely that either of them would be in a history. He was merely the captain of Sir Raymond’s men.”

“And wives are rarely mentioned,” Olivia finished somewhat caustically. “I know.”

“However, it was this Sir Raymond that Belinda was talking about at supper the other night. The one during whose ownership the estate got its name of Blackhope.”

“The man who shut himself up in the house because his wife died?”

“The very same. That, of course, was put down as legend. But it is fact that this same Sir Raymond rebuilt Blackhope. Apparently at some point, the original Norman keep was destroyed—or mostly so—during a siege. Sir Raymond built the present house almost directly on the ruins of the original.”

“A siege?” Olivia looked at him questioningly. “Such as the battle in your dream?”

Stephen shrugged. “Certainly the enemy was inside the house. And there were fires. I remember the smoke.”

“The great hall, where we saw the woman, is the oldest part of this house, isn’t it?” Stephen nodded, and she went on. “If it was built on the site of the original, then where that woman walked would have been where the first castle stood. Perhaps she was walking through a doorway in the old house, and that is why she walked right through the—oh, what am I saying!” Olivia flung her hands up to her head in dismay. “There are no ghosts. I don’t believe in ghosts. There is no medieval woman stalking through the house! It had to be something that Madame Valenskaya and her group are doing.”

“Yet you yourself said you had never heard of anyone being able to do such things.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean that someone can’t,” Olivia pointed out. “I just don’t know how they do it. But it seems too much of a coincidence that these things are happening at the same time that Madame Valenskaya is here conducting séances and nattering on about the lost souls in this house.”

“But how would she know about Sir Raymond and his wife? I didn’t even know about them, and this is my house.”

“First of all, we don’t know that anything about the wife or this Sir John fellow is true. There is no mention of anyone save a Sir Raymond. Second, Belinda knew about him. She was telling us the other day. She could easily have told the same story to Madame Valenskaya or her daughter. Madame Valenskaya could even have found this history book where Belinda got her information. After all, she, or someone, dug up the story about the Martyrs.”

“The Martyrs are quite a bit better known. However,” Stephen conceded, “she could have gotten the name from something Belinda said. But there is one problem—I dreamed that first dream about Sir John and his lady quite some time ago. I dreamed it the night I met you, before Madame Valenskaya and her group came here. Before I had ever even seen the woman.”

A shiver ran through Olivia. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap and tried to think clearly. “I wish we knew more about Sir Raymond and the house. If only—” She brightened. “I could write to Great-uncle Bellard. He is a tremendous history student. His rooms are full of history books, and he has cronies to whom he writes about all the minutiae of history. If there is anything to be found out about Blackhope or Sir Raymond or the Martyrs, he could find it.”