Old Lover's Ghost (4 page)

As soon as the servants disappeared, his polite smile faded and he said frankly, “Miss Wainwright, I have made no secret of the fact that I think this visit an exercise in futility. That is not to say, however, that I fail to realize something is bothering Mama. She has not been herself lately. I hope that you and your papa can assist her.”

“We shall do what we can, milord,” she replied, with more curiosity than offense. “How do you think we can be of help if her problem is not of a supernatural order?”

He batted his hand impatiently. “There is no such thing as a supernatural order—barring religion, I mean,” he added.

“Because you have not observed any supernatural phenomena does not necessarily mean they do not exist,” she pointed out politely.

“No sane person has observed anything of the sort. It is nonsense. Ghosts and goblins are creatures of the imagination to frighten children and the ignorant, superstitious lower orders.”

“The Society for the Study of Discarnate Beings numbers several gentlemen of no mean intellectual accomplishments. We have a professor from Oxford and an elderly gentleman who is a retired bishop.”

“A senile, superannuated clergyman might well be prey to imaginings.”

“The Oxford professor is only fifty years old. How can you be so certain you are right and the rest of us are wrong? Your own mama and Lord Winton believe.”

“Mama is in a highly nervous condition. She is obviously hallucinating. As to Lewis!”

“Half the nobility of England believe in ghosts,” she said. “You may believe or not, but you are in no position to call it all nonsense.”

He pinned her with a gimlet glance and demanded, “Have you ever seen a ghost?”

“No. I have never seen the world looking anything but flat either, but I believe it is round.”

“You are confusing science and superstition here, ma’am.”

“Science is superstition until it is proven otherwise! You forget Galileo was tried as a heretic and spent eight years in prison.”

Merton frowned in perplexity. He had not expected such a hard argument from a young lady, and a foolish one who believed in ghosts at that.

“Show me a ghost and I will be as keen a believer as the next man,” he said.

“We might just do that. Stranger things have happened. It is narrow-minded of you to assume that because you do not understand something, it does not exist. Look at electricity! What a strange and wonderful thing it is. All that invisible energy stored up in the air.”

“I did not invite you here to convert me.”

“You have made it amply clear that you did not invite us at all.”

“I meant into the saloon, just now. I want to discuss Mama’s predicament in a rational manner. Personally, I think this harping on ghosts and such things can only harm her, in her delicate mental condition.”

“A festering mental wound does not heal itself by being covered up, though, any more than a physical one does. It must be treated, the poison let out.”

“Just so.” He leaned forward, eagerness lending a gleam to his dark eyes. “Mama’s particular aberration is that some ghost is harassing her. The logical cure is to be rid of the ghost.”

“That is why my father is here,” she replied in confusion.

“Yes, well, that is fine, but as I said, I do not believe in ghosts. As Mama does, however, the simplest cure would be to remove the ghost, would it not?”

“My father is not an exorcist, milord. You do not ease a mental strain by pretending it has gone away. If Lady Merton is troubled, you must discover the cause and treat it. Do you have any notion what is plaguing her?”

He gave a frustrated shake of his head. “None in the least. She was perfectly normal until a month or so ago, when she began to complain of not being able to sleep. She seemed frightened of something. That is when she elevated Miss Monteith to her companion. I hoped that might be the end of Mama’s megrims. I am sorry to say it, things have only got worse.”

“I see.” When Merton said nothing more, Charity continued. “When Papa mentioned a young woman, and an affair of the heart, your mama became excited. I believe that described her ghost ...” Merton gave a frown of impatience. “Or what we shall call her ghost.”

“There is no young woman in the house except servants.”

“As your mama believes the woman to be a ghost, then the woman is obviously dead. She was speaking of the past. Some woman she associated with in her own youth, perhaps. It is odd Papa did not say a young lady,” she said, frowning.

As Miss Wainwright seemed a sensible person, barring this aberration of believing in ghosts, Merton wasted no more time, but plunged on to his specific request. “I would like your father to get rid of this so-called ghost. How quickly do you think he can accomplish it?”

“That must depend on the circumstances, but he works quickly. I can say with reasonable certainty that the ghost will either be gone or will have stopped harassing your mama within a week.”

“Could he not do it more quickly—for a generous consideration, of course. I would be willing to pay-”

To Merton’s astonishment, Miss Wainwright flew into the boughs. A thundercloud formed on her usually calm countenance, and when she spoke, her voice was raised in anger.

“Lord Merton! Papa does not accept money! And to suggest a bribe! It is an insult. He feels he has certain powers that he shares with others as a favor, out of the kindness of his heart. It is a great imposition on his time—and mine—to be forever darting about the countryside.”

“I would not call it a bribe,” he said apologetically.

“I do not see what else you could call it. If you are implying that he should lie to Lady Merton, tell her the ghost has gone when it has not, I pray you will not mention anything of the sort to Papa. He would be grievously insulted at such a slur on his integrity.”

Merton felt extremely foolish. He had assumed that Wainwright, with his black carriage and team and his swirling cape, was a cunning fraud, who rid homes of their ghosts for a living. As this was not the case, he was left with nothing to say. His pride disliked to utter an apology. The only recourse was to attempt to rationalize his suggestion.

“It seems highly unlikely he will be able to come to terms with a ghost he cannot even find. He found no trace of Mama’s ghost in her room. I feel it is a matter of some urgency to rid her mind of this unhealthy morass that possesses it.”

Charity gave him a rebukeful look but considered his suggestion. “If you really want to help her, you should discover what is causing her agitation. Perhaps it is not a ghost,” she allowed. “People can have delusions about ghosts, as they can about anything else. That is not to say ghosts do not exist,” she added sharply. “Only that they can be imagined to be where they are not. Though it is odd that she says she actually saw the ghost in her room on more than one occasion. When it is a delusion, it is usually more vague. A lurking shadow that pops up here and there, you know.”

“It is possible someone is creating this ghost to frighten her,” Merton said, and watched closely for Miss Wainwright’s reaction. As she did not fly at him, he continued, “It would be easily enough done. It comes to her window. A stuffed gown with a padded head hung on a rope from the roof...”»

“I noticed the roof of Reefer Hall is sharply canted, though. One would have to be extremely agile to attempt anything of the sort. Could it possibly be the ravens she is mistaking for ghosts?”

“I hardly think so. She is perfectly familiar with them. They have been here forever. The ‘ghost’ could be lowered from the window of the room above. There are attics and servants’ quarters above the bedrooms. I cannot recall offhand just what is above Mama’s room. I shall look into it in the morning.”

“What of the ghost that comes out of her clothes-press? It would be hard for someone to hide in there. The last thing her dresser would do at night would be to hang up her gown. She would see if someone was hiding there.”

“Miss Monteith is presently filling the role of dresser as well,” he said with a sapient look.

“You think Miss Monteith might be in on this masquerade?”

“I am not accusing her, but yes, I am suggesting it is possible. Particularly as the so-called haunting began around the time Miss Monteith became Mama’s companion.”

Charity thought about this and said, “My father is concerned only with legitimate ghosts. He does not investigate skullduggery of that sort. I would not leap to the conclusion that a ghost is not involved, despite your not believing. The Society is looking into the possibility that electricity is involved in some manner,” she added vaguely. “Sometimes we must just accept what we cannot understand. A ‘willing suspension of disbelief,’ as our romantic poets describe it.”

“That is fine—for fiction, ma’am. I prefer good solid facts. I will suspend my disbelief when Mr. Wainwright shows me hard evidence of a ghost. Meanwhile, I shall look into the more likely explanation that someone is frightening Mama.”

“That is your privilege,” she agreed blandly. “Have you any idea why anyone would do such a thing? Does she have enemies?”

“None in the world, so far as I know. She lives a retired life here in the country. The mischief must be executed by someone within the house. Yet the servants like her ...”

“Her reaction to Papa’s mention of a young woman suggests to me that the root of her problem lies deep in the past. You should ask her about that.”

“If she has held her secret for thirty-odd years, it is not likely she will tell me about it now, is it?”

“No, for it must be something she is ashamed of.” Merton gave her a gimlet glance at this suggestion. “No one has led a totally blameless life,” she added. “Whether she is haunted by a ghost or only a feeling of guilt for some past transgression, her cure lies in righting that past wrong. Perhaps she will tell me. I am an outsider; I mean nothing to her. People will sometimes tell their secrets to a stranger when they will not tell their nearest and dearest.”

“I wish you would try to ingratiate yourself,” he said eagerly. “If she could be weaned from Miss Monteith, that alone would be a step in the right direction.” His frown lightened and a small incipient smile moved his lips. “She might very well talk to you, Miss Wainwright. I had no intention of opening my budget to you, and here I am, burdening you with our family problems—to say nothing of arguing with a guest. It was farouche of me.”

“Oh, I always enjoy a good argument with a non-believer. I would be happy to help,” she replied. “I sometimes feel de trop on these visits of Papa’s. He has his ghost hunting; I am left at loose ends, with only a little note-taking to occupy my time.”

Merton studied her closely and liked what he saw. He was not a man to amuse himself with idle flirtations. He was known to have had a few mistresses in his time, and he kept an eye cocked for a suitable wife, but a conversable lady who was a friend was something new to him. He felt Miss Wainwright would be a comfortable friend. She did not flirt or behave in any manner that suggested a personal interest in him or his title or estate. She was quick to contradict him and argue; he liked that independence of spirit.

“As time hangs heavy on your hands, perhaps you would help me look into the non-ghostly possibilities?” he said.

Charity recognized it as a bid for friendship and was happy to agree.

“We shall begin investigating the attic above Mama’s room tomorrow morning. And have a look at the clothespress as well. But I must not abuse you with an excess of labor, as you are a guest, ma’am. We have an excellent stable at Reefer Hall.”

“I did not bring my riding habit.” Was it possible Papa had made a mistake?

“I recall now that Lewis already mentioned it.” He gave her a laughing look. “Pity. I shan’t suggest you wear Mama’s, but could you not send home for your own?”

Charity thought about it for a moment, then said, “I could, if you think we will not have worn out our welcome within two days. It would take a day to get the message to London and another day for the habit to arrive. I had the distinct impression you wished us at Jericho, milord.”

“Then I have been a very poor host. I pray you will forgive me. Like yourself, I have a sad tendency to say what I mean—which no doubt accounts for my lackluster performance in the Upper House. I will not say your papa is a fraud, but I think he is wasting his time. That is not to say we need waste ours. Send for the habit. In fact, I can send off a mounted footman and have it here by tomorrow evening. We shall ride the next day, if the weather is good.”

This eagerness from a handsome young lord caused a light flush of pleasure to suffuse Charity’s cheeks. It was the only trace of the excitement that had invaded her being.

“That will be delightful,” she said. Then she added thoughtfully, “But I daresay we will not ride. Papa told me I would not need my habit and he is never—well, seldom—wrong.”

Before Merton was required to acknowledge this troublesome speech, Lewis’s heavy tread and fluting voice were heard in the hallway.

“By gad, Mr. Wainwright, I never saw anything like it.” Lewis and Wainwright duly appeared in the saloon and sat down for tea. As there was no hostess, Charity poured and Merton passed the sandwiches.

“Any luck in the Armaments Room, Mr. Wainwright?” Merton asked politely.

Lewis answered for him. “It was amazing, John. The helmet moved across the table of its own accord and fell to the floor while we were looking at it. And don’t bother saying the table legs are crooked or the floorboards are slanted, for they ain’t. I ran up to the nursery and brought down some marbles. Put ‘em on the table and they didn’t budge an inch. The table is flat all around. No sir, it was Knagg pushing it off. Mr. Wainwright is going to have it out with the pair of them while he is here—the Cavalier and Cromwell’s Ironside. See if he can bring ‘em together.”

Wainwright swelled with joy at this recital of his powers. To Merton he said, “As to your mama’s ghost, milord, I fear it is nothing of the sort. Something is pestering the poor soul, but it is not a ghost. Perhaps if she had a word with her vicar ...”

His mama had already had too many words with the vicar to suit Merton. He felt that Monteith and the vicar between them were half her problem.