7 Pay the Piper (16 page)

Already the guests were drifting into the ballroom, most of them newly arrived from London for the weekend. Cecily was happy that her contribution toward the Robbie Burns celebration had turned out so well. The hotel rooms were full, and the Tartan Ball promised to be a spectacular and unusual event for the Pennyfoot.

That’s if Phoebe’s dance troupe managed to avoid one of the catastrophes. One never knew what to expect from them. At times their mishaps caused quite a sensation, but somehow Phoebe usually seemed to perform a miracle and avert total disaster.

Cecily watched the throng below for a moment or two, admiring the elegant women in magnificent ball gowns sweeping across the floor on the arms of their equally distinguished escorts.

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, and, satisfied with her inspection, Cecily turned to leave. As she did so, she saw something move in the shadows at the end of the balcony.

Peering at the still figure, she realized it was one of the
pipers. He stood by the rear door that led down to the backstage area at the back of the ballroom.

In fact, Cecily thought worriedly, that’s where he should have been, down in the Blue Room with the rest of the pipers. They would be gathered there by now, waiting to make their dramatic entrance just as soon as the guests were all seated.

Phoebe, Cecily knew, would have a fit if she saw that there was a piper missing. She had her hands full as it was, no doubt, attempting to control her wayward dance troupe.

Deciding to ask him to go below immediately, Cecily hurried along the balcony toward the piper. She called out as she approached him. “Excuse me, but aren’t you supposed to be in the Blue Room by now? It’s almost time for the entertainment to begin. Mrs. Carter-Holmes will be concerned—”

She broke off, her words dying in her throat. She could see right through the man standing by the door. She blinked, certain that it was an illusion created by the poor lighting. If so, it was a remarkable illusion. For as she stared, the piper slowly turned, then walked through the closed door and disappeared.

CHAPTER
16

“Where is Isabelle?” Phoebe demanded, doing her very best to keep her voice calm and quiet. “She should have been here half an hour ago.”

“She went back to her house to get her dance shoes, Mrs. Carter-Holmes,” Dora said, sounding polite for once. “She should be here at any minute.”

Phoebe sighed and tried not to give in to the quiver of panic fluttering under her tightly laced corset. “Speaking of shoes, how many of you have decided to perform the Sword Dance in stockinged feet?”

The girls stood huddled together in the small dressing room. Not one of them moved a muscle. They simply stood there staring at her in silence like a bunch of lovesick cows.

“Come, ladies,” Phoebe said briskly. “In the interest of
drama, surely you can be courageous enough to risk a tiny nick on the toe?”

“Tiny nick?” Marion echoed indignantly. “You get your foot caught in the blade of one of those blooming swords and you won’t be cutting your toenails again I can tell you.”

The girls shuddered in unison.

Ignoring the hollow moans, Phoebe waved an elegant gloved hand at them. “Nonsense. If you are careful you won’t get any more than a scratch. After all, a woman must suffer for her art, you know, if she is to be a proper artiste.”

“Artists don’t paint with their blinking toes,” someone grumbled.

“Some of them do,” Dora announced. “I saw a man at the fair once, he was painting with his toes. Put them in his mouth, too, he did.”

This statement was immediately greeted with loud cries of disgust from the group.

“Hush!” Phoebe cried. “They will hear you in the ballroom. Please, I beg you, ladies, try to behave with at least a modicum of grace. Remember that some of the most respected members of the aristocracy will be watching you tonight. I trust you will not let yourselves down, nor me for that matter.”

“Yes, Mrs. Carter-Holmes,” the girls chanted.

Phoebe eyed them with suspicion. She never quite knew when they were being disrespectful. “Very well, then. I am going to look in next door, just to make sure the pipers are ready for their entrance. I will be gone no more than a minute, so please, do try not to get into mischief while I am gone.”

“Yes, Mrs. Carter-Holmes.”

Hoping she wasn’t making a mistake in leaving the troupe alone, Phoebe hurried into the next room. In truth, she had hoped to have a quick word with Alec, but the burly Scot was deep in conversation with another of the pipers, and Phoebe had to be content with a brief nod and a smile from
him. At least until after the entertainment, when she planned to engineer another meeting.

To cover her unannounced visit in a room full of men, Phoebe made it appear that she was taking a head count. To her intense dismay, she counted only eight pipers. Ross McBride, it seemed, had not as yet arrived.

“Where is he?” she demanded of the ginger-haired piper nearest the door. “Has anyone seen him?”

The piper shook his head. “Dinna fash yourself, Mrs. Carter-Holmes. I’m sure he’ll be here. He might be a bit of a dark horse, but he’s reliable.”

“Well, I certainly hope so.” Phoebe tugged on her hat brim to straighten it. “Please inform me when, and if, he arrives. I have to get back to my dancers right now.”

The piper touched his cap with his fingers. “Yes, ma’am. I will do that.”

“Thank you.” Phoebe, upon hearing smothered giggles from next door, backed hurriedly out of the room and sped back to the dressing room.

Isabelle, it appeared, had finally arrived. She stood in the middle of the group, relating some hair-raising tale that had the rest of the dancers agog with excitement.

“I tell you, I could see right through him,” Isabelle said, her voice rising above the awed murmurs. “It were a ghost, I swear it on my mother’s grave.”

“Your mother ain’t dead yet,” Dora said scornfully. “I think you’re making it all up. You always did like all the attention.”

“You shut your mouth, Dora Davis. I know what I saw, and I saw a ghost, so there.”

“There ain’t no such thing as ghosts, so you must be seeing things.”

Cecily, who had just arrived at the door, was inclined to disagree. She was still trembling from her experience on the balcony, yet she could not bring herself to believe she had actually seen an apparition. It had to be a trick of the light,
or more likely, someone playing tricks, as Gertie had suggested.

Cecily very badly wanted to find Baxter to tell him what she had seen. There were a few things that had to be taken care of first, however. Assuring herself that Phoebe had control of the situation in the dressing room was definitely a priority.

Fortunately her presence appeared to have a calming effect on the dance troupe. They chattered quietly amongst themselves while Cecily did her best to concentrate on her conversation with Phoebe, who seemed to be in her usual state of high anxiety.

She stood near the door, waiting for the first notes of the bagpipes that would signal curtain time for her troupe. Wringing her hands, she glanced continuously from the hallway to the dancers.

“I do hope the girls remember everything that Alec has taught them,” she said anxiously. “He has worked so hard and given up so much of his time.”

“I’m sure the girls will give us an admirable performance,” Cecily murmured, convinced of no such thing.

“I really don’t know. This is such a difficult dance, something they have never attempted before.” Phoebe’s hand fluttered at her throat. “Perhaps it is just as well they will be performing with their shoes on. I would hate to have someone cut her foot on those swords. Somehow I don’t think the audience would take kindly to blood gushing all over the stage.”

“Especially while they’re eating dinner,” Cecily agreed.

“The problem is, of course, they are used to Alec playing for them. I wanted to rehearse them with the entire ensemble, but the rest of the pipers wanted to attend the last band practice before the contest. I only hope they don’t play too fast. You know how the girls are …”

Cecily, still thinking about the mysterious piper on the balcony, lost track of the conversation for a moment. Realizing that Phoebe had stopped talking and was waiting
for some kind of comment, she said hurriedly, “Please try not to worry, Phoebe. I’m quite sure the pipers know what they are doing.”

“Oh, I’m sure. But several of them are upset over the death of Peter Stewart. I’m just afraid it might have an effect on their performance.”

“Effect?” With an effort Cecily put the vision of the ghostly piper out of her mind. “I wouldn’t think the absence of one piper would make a difference to the music.”

Phoebe shook her head impatiently. “Of course not the music, Cecily. In any case, Alec told me that Peter Stewart won’t be missed at all. Apparently he couldn’t play very well. Alec said he was tone-deaf, judging by his performance on the pipes.”

She peered down the hallway with a worried frown. “Now, Ross McBride is another matter. He is one of their best musicians, according to Alec. In fact, Alec told me that Ross McBride might have had a chance at the Grand Prize, if it weren’t for the fact that Alec is easily the best musician.”

According to Alec, of course, Cecily thought wryly.

Phoebe uttered a little cry. “Oh, there he is. I was beginning to think we would have to go on without him.”

Cecily smiled at the pleasant face of Ross McBride, who paused at the doorway of the dressing room. He gave her a polite bow, then turned to Phoebe.

“My apologies for being late, Mrs. Carter-Holmes. I had a wee bit of trouble with my pipes, but they are just fine now.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” Phoebe gushed. “It would not have been the same without you, Mr. McBride.”

The piper backed away with a polite nod, while Phoebe smiled and waved after him. “Such a nice man,” she said, casting a quick glance at the girls to make sure they weren’t listening. “Such a tragedy. Apparently, so Alec told me, the poor man lost his wife and children when his house caught
fire. It was a thatched roof, you see. There was nothing anyone could do.”

Cecily felt a cold shock of sympathy. “How awful for him.”

Phoebe nodded, her anxious eyes still on the girls. “Alec said that Mr. McBride is a very lonely man. He keeps himself to himself, and won’t let anyone get close to him. Apparently he refused to join the other pipers at the George and Dragon every night.”

“Drinking in the pubs is not for everyone, Phoebe.”

“Oh, I agree entirely. Alec regards Mr. McBride as unsociable, but one can understand it. I don’t suppose the poor man feels much like socializing after such a tragic loss.”

Her heart going out to Ross McBride, Cecily had to agree.

Just then a small argument broke out among the girls, and Phoebe leapt into the fray. “You will be going onstage at any minute, ladies. Please try to tolerate each other until then.”

As if on cue, a shrill whine sent ripples of goose bumps up Cecily’s arms. The pipers, it seemed, were ready to descend on the guests. Praying that Phoebe would be up to the task, Cecily left her to marshal her skittish brood onto the stage, and hurried off to find Baxter.

She finally tracked him down in the drawing room, where he stood by the windows, examining the windowsill with a critical eye.

“Draught,” he explained, when Cecily sent him a questioning look. “Apparently Mrs. Chubb has had several complaints. It appears that there is a gap between the windowsill and the wall. I shall have Samuel take care of it in the morning.”

Cecily nodded. “It’s the constant wind, I’m afraid. It does tend to batter the walls rather badly in winter.”

Something in her voice must have given her away, as Baxter peered closely at her. “Is something the matter, madam?”

She dropped her gaze, moving closer to the warmth of the fireplace. Now that she had the opportunity to tell him about her experience, she wasn’t too sure how to go about it. After all, she didn’t quite believe it herself. It would be difficult to convince Baxter, of all people, that what she saw was not some easily explained phenomena.

After a short pause, during which Baxter waited patiently, she said quietly, “Do you remember me asking you if you believed in ghosts?”

“Yes, madam. I do recall the conversation. I believe it was after Gertie had complained about someone playing tricks on her.”

“Yes, it was.” She stood staring into the flames for a moment longer, then turned to face him. “I think I saw him.”

Baxter’s expression was inscrutable. “You saw whom, madam?”

“The ghost.”

“The ghost?”

“Peter Stewart, if that is whose ghost is walking our hallways.”

Baxter continued to look at her with a blank face. “You saw a ghost, madam?”

“Yes, Baxter, I did.”

“In our hallways?”

“On the balcony, to be precise. It is Doris who sees him in the hallways.”

“Ah.” Baxter nodded, as if she were making perfect sense.

“And the conservatory,” Cecily added lamely.

“Of course.”

“So did Gertie. See him in the conservatory, I mean.”

“Naturally.”

She puffed out her breath in frustration. “You don’t believe me, of course.”

He dropped the fold of the curtain he’d been holding and advanced toward her. “I am quite sure you believe it, madam, which disturbs me.”

“He was standing at the end of the balcony, next to the backstage door,” Cecily said, beginning to feel a little foolish.

“Of course he was, madam.”

“When I spoke to him, he disappeared.”

“Disappeared.”

“Yes.” She glared at him. “Please don’t humor me, Baxter. You are beginning to make me feel like Colonel Fortescue.”

“I’m sorry, madam. Please forgive me.”

Turning away from him, she stared into the fire again. “I don’t know if I shall, Baxter.” She felt perilously close to tears. Which was ridiculous. She had no idea why she felt like crying.

“Cecily.”

As always, the sound of his voice speaking her name jolted her. She glanced back at him and saw the warmth of compassion in his gray eyes.

“I think,” he said gently, “that you have too much on your mind of late. Apart from the unfortunate death of one of our guests, you have the constant worry of unpaid bills, and you are also troubled by the possibility of your son’s return to Africa.”

She managed a tremulous smile. “You know me well, Bax.”

“I do indeed. I worry about you. I think you need a diversion.”

“A diversion?” She looked at him suspiciously. “What kind of diversion?”

He continued to look at her for so long she became nervous. Finally, he cleared his throat. “I know how much you enjoyed dancing when your husband was alive.”

“Yes, I did.”

“And I am aware of how very much you miss the experience at times.

Frowning, she said slowly, “I do miss it. Very much. Though I sincerely hope you are not suggesting that I go
into that ballroom and wait for one of the pipers to ask me to dance?”

She had meant it as a joke. Baxter, however, looked aghast. “Good Lord, I hope not.”

“Well, then, perhaps you could tell me where all this is leading?”

Now he seemed nervous, fidgeting with his collar and looking everywhere but at her. “As a matter of fact, I was wondering if perhaps you would do me the honor of joining me in a waltz after the entertainment is over.”

Aware that her mouth had dropped open, Cecily hastily closed it again. “You want me to dance with you?”

“That was the general concept, yes.” Once more he cleared his throat. “On the other hand, I realize that it is somewhat unconventional. Please forget I mentioned it, madam.”

Watching his cheeks grow warm, the cold feeling that had persisted around her heart for days suddenly melted. She smiled up at him, hoping he could see in her eyes how touched she was by his gesture.

“I had no idea you could dance, Baxter. I am immensely flattered that you should ask me.”

“Then you accept?”

She hated to destroy that light in his eyes. “I would enjoy the experience very much. I am hardly dressed for the occasion, however. I would feel most uncomfortable joining all those fashionable ladies on the dance floor.”