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right.”
    â€œReckon it ain’t meant for you to remember,” he said philosophically. “I wouldn’t worry none about it, Ma’am. Yesterday is gone, and we ’ave-ta think about today and make plans for tomorrow.”
    Johnny clicked the reins and fell silent. He was a very sympathetic young man, amiable, relaxed, easy to talk to. I sensed compassion and understanding, or else I would not have told him so much. With his large, ponderous body and casual, confident manner, he emanated masculinity and strength, a highly physical man who could nevertheless be gentle. The maid Susie could consider herself fortunate to have such a man to take care of her. Young Johnny was a prize. I hoped she appreciated him.
    â€œDoes my uncle live alone at Danver Hall?” I asked.
    â€œHunh? Seems so strange your not knowing. No, there’s the son. He’d be your cousin. Master Brence Danver, a ’ellion if there ever was one.”
    â€œWhy do you say that?”
    â€œAsk anyone around these parts. A demon, ’e is, ’andsome as Satan before the Fall an’ twice as mean. Drinkin’ and wenchin’—them’s ’is occupations. An brawlin’, too. Always gettin’ into fights an’ usually winnin’. ’E’s a bad ’un. I ain’t talkin’ outta turn, Ma’am, ain’t tellin’ you nothin’ you won’t find out for yourself soon’s you meet ’im.”
    â€œWhat about my aunt?”
    â€œI hear tell she died from some kind-a influenza when Brence was just a toddler. Charles Danver was a widower when ’e came to take over Danver ’all. Brence was fifteen at the time. I reckon ’e’s twenty-six now, seein’ as ’ow eleven years ’as passed. Danver never re-married, though there’s that French woman—” He cut himself short, obviously afraid he had gone too far.
    â€œFrench woman?” I prompted.
    â€œMadame DuBois,” Johnny replied, pronouncing it “Dew-Boy.” “She’s the ’ousekeeper, ’as been for all these years. There’s some as say she’s somethin’ more, Susie included. Skinny woman, looks like a painted maypole with her make-up and ribbons. She doesn’t like me , I can tell you for sure, but then I don’t reckon she likes anyone who ain’t gentry.”
    So my uncle has a housekeeper, I thought. I knew exactly what Johnny was implying. I should have been shocked, but I wasn’t. The rigid proprieties taught in a girls’ school did not extend to society at large. I was rapidly finding that out.
    â€œIt isn’t a ’appy place, Danver ’all. Some say it’s cursed. Some say it’s ’aunted. That’s nonsense, a-course, but I can see as ’ow some folks’d believe it. Susie’s always talkin’ about strange noises, and I’ve seen the lights myself.”
    â€œThe lights?”
    â€œIn the west wing. It’s all in ruins, the walls collapsed, the ceilin’ fallen through in places. Mysterious lights flicker there, always late at night. Gives folks the shivers, though I reckon there’s an explanation for ’em.”
    I made no reply, but thought about all I had learned these past few minutes. We were passing through a wooded area now, dark tree limbs reaching out on either side, fireflies creating luminous golden lights that floated among the dense shrubs. The horse’s hooves clattered on the hard dirt road. The wagon made squeaky, groaning noises. Johnny sensed my apprehension. He turned to me, and when he spoke his husky voice was gentle.
    â€œI didn’t mean to alarm you, Miss Jane. I shouldn’t-a told you them things, but seein’ as ’ow you didn’t know what to expect—”
    â€œThank you, Johnny. I appreciate what you’ve told me.”
    We left the woods behind. The pungent odor of peat was stronger than ever, and