Aunt Toffy and the Ghost Read online

  All three girls blushed to the roots of their hair. Basil’s turn of the topic was a bit more abrupt than the ladies were expecting. They turned their attention and their eyes to their cups of tea and once again silence fell in the parlor.

  Rawly placed his cup on a side table and gave his grandfather a hard look. Adorna could see his temper was rising. “All right Grandfather, I will agree. If I find a bride here at one of Mrs. Miggins’ teas, I will marry and return to Dullinmuth and never go in search of—of anything again. I will give up my aspirations and do as you wish.”

  Adorna felt a wave of sadness. She didn’t know what Rawly was looking for, but it seemed harsh that he should set aside his dreams—those mysterious dreams that they all craved to know about—for his grandfather.

  Basil smiled and nodded his silver head in triumph. He did not jump and whoop with glee, but he might as well have done, for the air was crackling with his joy. It was at that moment that every candle in the room suddenly seemed cloaked in darkness though it was but mid-afternoon. The skies opened, rain thundered down. The room was dimly lit. Crosbie was there in a nounce, lighting candles, and the fire in the hearth.

  For a moment everything was fine, the room lit by a comforting glow, the rain pelting the roof and windows. Then a cold breeze came from every corner of the room. The candles guttered, the fire in the hearth dwindled.

  “Oh no, not again. Please, Meridius—not now,” Adorna whispered under her breath. Just like that she had become a believer. In that one moment she no longer doubted—she knew with every part of herself that a ghost dwelled in her house.

  There was a moment when the air in the room seemed to still—hung suspended and then the candles flared back to life. It was a tense minute or two before conversation resumed, but when it did everyone was a bit quieter, as if they were awaiting something. Adorna released the breath she had been holding. “Thank you, Meridius,” she whispered.

  Basil Rawlings smiled and focused on the three young women oblivious to the tension that had rippled around them all. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

  “So tell me, lassies, what are your interests?” Basil asked one pink-cheeked prospect—the tailor’s daughter? Adorna was not sure. She was a pretty little thing with large teeth and a wide smile. Aye, perhaps the tailor, for her gown was of the finest quality, with expensive embellishments on the neck and big, bouffant sleeves.

  “Oh, I have few interests beyond becoming a wife and mother.” She batted her pretty eyes. “Father says whomever I marry will be doubly blessed.”

  “How is that?” Basil asked with a lift of his bushy white brows.

  “Father will take him into the family business. I have no brothers, you see. My husband will learn all there is to know about being a successful tailor. We are expecting to receive the Queen’s warrant this year. That should make me an even better catch.” She smiled broadly and sat back with a satisfied nod of her head.

  Rawly’s brows rose. “One should be confident of their virtues.”

  “Virtues or price,” Toffy muttered. “Some have more of one and less of the other from what I am seeing.”

  Adorna stifled a giggle. Suddenly there was a cold gust of wind that came from nowhere. The rain was still pelting against windows shut tight against the unseasonable cold that had returned. She held her breath—Meridius had backed off a few moments ago. Had he changed his mind? Did ghosts have minds to change?

  “Please, please don’t,” she whispered to the room.

  One by one, in turn, the three girls squeaked and jumped up, as if rehearsed to perform in a pantomime. They rose in their seats in perfect synchronization, like a wave cresting in the sea. As each squealed and leaped from their seats, tea cups fell to the floor, liquid splashing, china shattered.

  Basil’s eyes were wide with surprise.

  “What is amiss?” Adorna rose, unsure if she should give aid or begin picking up her precious shattered crockery. She had used her best china in an effort to impress. What had possessed the girls?

  “Someone pinched me—hard!” The first miss looked to the second.

  “Me too.” The second looked to the third.

  “Me as well.” The last girl looked at Rawly with narrowed, accusing eyes.

  “I assure you I did not molest you ladies,” Rawly said, rising to his feet after carefully setting his cup aside.

  “How extraordinary,” Mrs. Wise said, but she was clearly unsettled by the strange display. “Yet nobody in the room was near you. Perhaps you are all just overcome with nerves.”

  “I have never been treated this way,” the ginger-haired girl exclaimed.

  “Papa will hear of this,” the tailor’s daughter said.

  The last one was already at the front door tightening the strings on her fashionable bonnet so if she uttered a threat in her wake it went unheard. They each marched out the front door, ignoring the pounding rain, and down the walk to their waiting carriages. Their footmen hustled them inside with a puzzled look, and soon all three were off, horses splashing down the street.

  Basil looked completely deflated. He slumped into a chair near the fire. “Well that went rather less well than I had hoped. It would appear this batch of girls was a bit too high-strung. But we have next week. I will find Rawly a bride and get him to Dullinmuth if it is the last thing I do.”

  And on his last word all the candles went out again.

  By the next morning the strange incident with the young ladies had been hashed and rehashed by everyone that had been present. Their belief that they had been pinched was marked down to feminine nerves by Basil and Mrs. Wise—being too high strung and therefore unsuited for marriage to a Rawlings—but Toffy and Adorna knew the truth.

  Meridius had taken a strong aversion to the pretty women and did what he could to remove them from the house. Adorna wished with all her heart he could have found a way without sacrificing her best china. She was now short three cups and three small plates.

  Basil and Mr. Scrum had come to the conclusion that the hearth had been drafting in some odd way again and instead of filling the room with smoke, it only let in frosty air from the storm.

  It was the only logical explanation, they agreed. It was an explanation that suited Adorna, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she realized they had no true idea of why it had happened. Toffy, however, was quiet, and a tiny frown wrinkled her brow.

  “Aunt, you must tell me why you are fashing yourself.” Adorna sat beside Toffy and took her hand. “It is well, nobody has said the word ghost. It will be well. Tell me what ails you.”

  “I canna.”

  “Nonsense, you may tell me anything.”

  “Nay, ’tis not that I won’t tell you, Adorna—I canna. Meridius is distressed, but I canna understand what he wants. We are having such a terrible chore trying to understand each other. And I have never seen him like this. He is—he is—emotional.”

  “Ah.” Adorna sat back and took a deep breath. “I didn’t know that ghosts had emotions.”

  Somewhere along the line she had begun to believe her aunt…no it was more than that. She didn’t just believe Toffy, she knew for a fact that Meridius did exist. And her heart was frozen with fear, for if he was real, and the news got out to the community the tenuous grip she had on financial solvency would be ruined.

  Nobody of normal disposition and intellect would wish to sleep in a haunted house with an unpredictable ghost making mischief. Toffy depended upon her…she had to find a way to keep her house full and the ghost a secret.

  Chapter Six

  “Toffy, will you let me butter a scone for you? You have hardly touched your tea.” Adorna was truly worried about Toffy’s health. Since the difficulties with Meridius, she seemed to be failing.

  “No, dear, thank you, I don’t feel much like breakfasting today.” She sighed heavily. She picked up her tea cup, but then set it back down without taking so much as a sip.

  “Are you ailing, Miss Toffy?” Rawly
asked with concern in his voice. They were seated at the table, the weak morning sun slanting into the room. “Would you like for me to summon a physician?”

  “Thank you, Rawly, that is most kind but perhaps a bit hasty,” Toffy said with a wan smile.

  Adorna rose and touched her palm to Toffy’s forehead. “You have no fever. Did you sleep poorly? You should return to bed. I can have Cook prepare you some custard and bring up a tray later.”

  Toffy shrugged. Fear gripped Adorna.

  “I will return to bed. Thank you.” Toffy pushed back her chair and didn’t object to the arm that Rawly offered.

  Adorna followed them upstairs while a lump of something hard and painful formed in her throat. She felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes and blinked furiously to keep them at bay.

  “I’m sending for a doctor—and I will take no refusals,” Rawly said to Adorna once Toffy had shut her bedroom door. He turned on his heel and went out before Adorna could say a word of thanks.

  ****

  Later Adorna was sitting alone in the parlor when Rawly returned much earlier from his mysterious activities than was his usual habit.

  “Mrs. Miggins, is your Aunt Toffy improved?”

  She noticed he was dirty and mucky but not to his customary degree. “She is napping right now. The physician has seen to her. Thank you, again for getting him here so quickly.”

  “I do hope the tea party my grandfather insisted on was not too much for her—or you.” He had left his big leather bag in the front entry and had gone to stand by the fire. Adorna noticed his trousers were damp at the bottom as if he had been walking in wet grass.

  “No, I don’t think that is what ails her. Speaking of tea, you look chilled. Would you join me in a cup?”

  “That would be most kind of you.”

  She had opened her mouth to call for Crosbie, but as usual he appeared as if already summoned.

  “Cook will have tea and biscuits for you presently,” he said. His brow was furrowed.

  “Thank you, Crosbie, and please do not worry so for Toffy, she will be well.”

  He nodded but looked unconvinced.

  “Please, ask Cook to add some bannocks.” Adorna sat by the fire but it did little to warm her.

  “I fear my grandfather and I have vexed your entire household, Mrs. Miggins. Believe me it was not my intention.”

  His voice jarred Adorna from her thoughts. “No, your custom has been welcome, in fact. It has made my budget less mean. It is just worry for Toffy that has me distracted as much as you and Crosbie.”

  “What did the doctor say—if I may ask?”

  Crosbie returned with a tray full stocked. Tea, small biscuits, bannocks—evidently Cook had anticipated the request.

  Adorna poured out and soon sipped her tea. She frowned before she spoke. “Toffy is not a young woman, there is nothing really wrong with her, but the doctor did say she needs a good fire and the right food all winter. And he has prepared a physic for her to take daily.”

  “That all sounds good, but why do you look so forlorn? That seems to be good news—is it not?”

  “Surely you must have guessed our circumstance. I am a widow, and my income is not substantial. I must see to Toffy and myself. The only way I can do that is to keep all the rooms in my house rented.” She paused and blushed slightly. “I should be embarrassed to share such personal details with you, we are practically strangers, but you have been so kind. Forgive me for being too familiar.”

  “No need for embarrassment. I am honored that you feel you can share with me, and I will keep your confidences. I’m a man who can keep a secret. Rest assured I intend to do my part to keep your lodging house full.”

  He grinned and Adorna felt herself blushing again.

  ****

  The sun broke over Ard Na Said and sent fingers of light toward Edinburgh. Rawly sat astride the stallion, enjoying the crisp clean feel of the morning. Today promised to be fair, and he had left the lodging house early to avoid Basil and any of his last minute schemes at matrimony. So far, thank the Lord, his attempts had failed. Basil was wearing a long face every day. His mien tugged at Rawly’s heartstrings.

  He was torn between his sense of duty to his aging relative and his personal goals and desires.

  It was a never ending game of push-pull within himself. He wanted to make his grandfather happy and proud, but he had set himself a task—perhaps an impossible task—and he did not wish to quit before he had given his all.

  He might not be able to solve the puzzle that so many men had put their efforts to and failed. But at this juncture, he did not feel he had exhausted all his resources or ideas.

  The horse ate up the ground, and soon Rawly was back at the spot he felt held the greatest promise. There was something about this location. It held some fascination for him, but it was also more than that. He felt—sensed—that some answer lay close within his grasp near this spot.

  He swung down and tethered the horse to graze. The grass here had become a tall green lawn among the bracken and heather as far as they eye could see.

  With the leather bag slung over his shoulder, he surveyed the area, silently willing some unknown force to give him insight. It was more luck than skill—a random scoop of dirt could reveal nothing or it could shed light on the past.

  He took his small spade and turned over a shovel of dirt. Then he bent and sifted the damp soil through his hands—feeling—looking for any small particle that did not belong. He repeated the task again and again.

  Now the sun was up fully. The horse was sleek and shiny in the sun. Rawly began to grow warm as he worked.

  “Blast it, is there naught to find—naught to see?” He said aloud in frustration flinging aside a fistful of earth.

  Then he wiped the sweat from his brow. He looked up and gazed into the distance, stretching his back. The air appeared to be shimmering on a nearby hillock. The air looked almost as if he were peering through a rainbow. In fascination he watched as a short man appeared within that shimmering light.

  It was the same apparition he had seen—or thought—he had seen before.

  “Meridius?” He said the name aloud, all the while knowing others would think him daft, but he knew ghosts, haunts and spirits were real. He had grown up with them, but he had no desire to enter into the debate that had gripped his lodging house.

  If Mrs. Miggins chose to deny their existence, to keep her lodging house free of controversy, that was fine with him. He could understand her caution under the circumstances. He sympathized with her position—she had a business to run and could not be sentimental. It was not his decision or his business. As they said in the lowlands, he didn’t have a dog in the fight.

  He was sure the spirits had something to say to him—they just didn’t seem to be able to communicate.

  The portly ghost seemed to be trying to say something to him right now. Rawly could see his lips moving. He was also gesturing wildly. After a few minutes, it seemed he grew frustrated, his arms relaxed. He simply stood and stared, a look of sadness on his face. Then he began to thin and finally disappeared altogether.

  Perhaps if he could get Toffy alone—to speak to her when Adorna was not present, she wouldn’t have to know and it would in no way impact the lodging house. Maybe Toffy could mediate between him and Meridius.

  It was worth a try.

  ****

  When he returned home, the house was readied for another tea party according to Basil’s wishes. Adorna had insisted Toffy do naught to prepare. She had extracted her promise that if Toffy felt tired she would excuse herself and go rest. So far it had worked.

  Adorna did have a quiet moment of pride to see her house shining. Her modest parlor was a treat with the tea pot under its cozy and the little plates of dainties. They were short cups since the last disaster, but the mix of everyday and good china didn’t seem too awful. She walked through the dining room and into the parlor. Her aunt was sitting in a chair near the sunny window.

/>   Toffy was looking much better with the daily physic and a proper diet. She wore a pale gray dress with huge leg-o-mutton sleeves, the latest fashion. Her gray hair was neatly plaited beneath her lace cap.

  “Crosbie, please tell Cook thank you, but I don’t see the bannocks. We must have bannocks.” Adorna was determined to do all she could to keep the ghost appeased. If he wanted wine and bannocks, she would keep them at every meal and tea to boot.

  Crosbie hesitated for only a moment before he nodded his head and turned down the hall toward the kitchen. If he wondered at the request, he did not say. Adorna heard steps on the stairs. Basil entered the parlor and clapped his hands in delight.

  “Mrs. Miggins ’tis a bonny sight. You have my thanks. A bride for Rawly will be coming across the threshold today, I’m thinking. The flighty girls that came last time were just an aberration. Today we will see the cream of Edinburgh—good Scottish lassies with even tempers.”

  “I hope you are right,” Adorna said admiring the older man’s fashion.

  Basil was dressed in black breeches, a pale yellow waistcoat, and a deep burgundy coat. His silver hair showed to great advantage against the fine dark cloth. One would think he was the prospective groom.

  Rawly had returned earlier on the black horse his grandfather had purchased. The young groom spent as much time in the kitchens flirting with Meg, but he did care for the animal. It seemed that he took the animal out at least once a day for a walk, and Rawly had developed a regular schedule of riding, but she still had no notion where he went or what he did. He joined them now looking nearly as resplendent as his grandfather.

  Rawly was a study in black, only his white shirt and neck cloth broke the somber look. He looked a man on the way to his funeral—but a well turned out and stylish funeral. The younger Rawling’s weak smile made Adorna pity him, but she turned away and busied herself arranging fresh flowers in a plain white vase.

  His forced marriage was none of her business and at least this quest was providing her with tenants.