by Megan McCoy
“People have heart seizures, Gabby.” Fergus took a drink from his wine glass. He had expected a problem when he arrived, but he hadn’t expected to find Bonnie practically catatonic, and the house in an uproar about ghosts and murder. He put his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands.
“I had hoped to have a relatively calm holiday,” he said.
“Darling, we’ll get to the bottom of it,” Gabby said.
“What do you suggest we do Mrs. Newspaper Publisher?”
He loved the smile that spread across her face. There was nothing his wife loved more than the thrill of the hunt.
“Well, the first thing we need to do is find out when all this ghost talk started,” she said. “You said Bonnie’s letters had been erratic, but not really concerning until just lately. What I want to know is when this spiritualist showed up. Did she plant an idea in Bonnie’s head? Some of these people can actually speak to the dead, but a great deal of them are able to pull the wool over a person’s eyes. I believe Bonnie is very vulnerable right now.”
“We need to meet this woman,” Fergus said.
“Shall we invite her over, tie her to a chair and interrogate her?” Gabby asked.
“Darling, that’s a little rough, don’t you think?”
Gabby laughed. “Then how about we have a Yule party?” she suggested. “I think it would be good for Bonnie to host a fete, to bring laughter back to the house. If we invite the spiritualist, we could, maybe, see what she’s like.”
“A party.” Fergus eyes glinted. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. You’re in charge, of course.”
Gabby’s mouth dropped open. “Me? I’ve never been in charge of a huge party, and this is not my house. Your Aunt Bonnie is in charge, of course.”
“You just saw her.” Fergus pointed his wine glass in Gabby’s direction. “There is no possible way she could plan a party. I am making that your responsibility.”
“But I’ve… we’ve… never hosted a Christmas party. We’ve always gone to them at Charlotte and Dalton’s house.”
“Well you’ve attended one, so you know what happens at a party.” He winked at her. “Besides, it’s not a Christmas party in Scotland”
“What is it, then?” Gabby asked.
“In Scotland it’s Hogmanay,” Fergus said. “Do you know nothing of Scottish history?”
A blush spread across her face, and Fergus laughed. “You don’t. Before the reformation, Christmas was a religious feast day in Scotland. But parliament passed a law outlawing the practice in the mid-1600s.”
“How do you celebrate Christmas, then?” Gabby asked.
“The law is still in place, so we have private dinners and fetes. The bigger celebration is for the New Year,” Fergus said. “The party will fit in perfectly, but we’ll call it a Yule Ball.”
She leaned closer to him, and he breathed in the rose water she’d bathed in before they came down for their meal. She smelled good enough to eat, and he wanted to take her right here. If they’d been in their home he would, but in his aunt’s house he would behave himself; at least when they were in public rooms.
“I’ve been to other parties at Charlotte and Dalton’s house, too,” she said. “Parties that aren’t exactly things many people would want to attend. Should I plan one of those while we’re here?”
“Don’t be gaff,” he said. “Or you and I will have our own party once we’re upstairs.”
“And wake the whole house while you’re spanking me?”
“Our room is not near any others,” Fergus said. “Keep saying naughty things and we’ll test the limits.”
She swallowed hard, but he saw the glint in her eyes and that said she rather liked the idea of being spanked. It released tension for the both of them. But he wasn’t sure tonight was the night.
“What is the other thing I need to do, besides plan a party that I know nothing about?” Gabby asked.
“We need your skills to find out what really happened to Malcolm,” he said.
“So, you want me to do both,” she said. She leaned back in her chair and took a large swig from her wine. She looked so sexy sitting there, her eyes hooded and a smile on her face. He thought she’d had a little too much to drink.
“I will help in whatever way possible, but you are the one who has experience in hunting things down,” he said.
“How am I supposed to find the time to do both?”
Fergus thought about it for a moment. “The maid you worked with tonight, what was her name?”
“Juliette,” Gabby said.
“Do you think she can be trusted?”
Gabby shrugged and took another drink of her wine. “She seemed like a simpering fool at first,” she said. “But when I told her to buck up, she did. I will ask her to attend me in the morning, and see if I think she has the wherewithal to help. If not, maybe I can get some information out of her about Malcolm’s final days.”
“That sounds,” Fergus was going to say intriguing, but he wasn’t sure that was the proper word to use. Finally, he said, “Useful.”
He hated the idea of hunting up his cousin’s last moments. When he’d heard Malcolm had died, he’d been in shock. Malcolm was only a few years older than him, and he’d never had any health problems, as far as Fergus knew. That’s why the idea of him having a heart seizure had been such a surprise.
“I’m sorry you’re feeling pain,” Gabby said.
Fergus, whose gaze had been settled on his now empty wine glass, looked up at his wife. She was perfect at reading him, at knowing how he was feeling.
“Thank you,” he said. “And thank you for being here with me.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here when Malcolm died,” she said.
“Do you think you could have figured it out then?”
She shook her head. “No, but I could have supported you. I feel horrid about not being here for you.”
“You’re here now, and that’s what counts.” He stood. “Now, let’s go to bed and rest. The next few days are going to be very busy.”
Chapter 3
Gabby ran the brush through her hair and stared at her reflection. This wasn’t how she’d expected their Christmas trip to go, but here they were, up to their eyes in something she would be investigating for the newspaper. She didn’t like the fact she had a personal stake in the outcome of this investigation. She prayed she could stay objective and not manipulate the evidence. She had to follow the truth.
The knock at the door made her stiffen. “Come in,” she said. Fergus was still asleep in the bed that they’d shared. Before falling asleep last night, they’d made a plan for the day. She would stay here and work on the party, and he would go and speak with the parish priest. Priests knew about their parishioners, and Gabby felt the priest would be more likely to speak with Fergus, who grew up in the area, than with her, an Englishwoman.
That left her with planning the party, and getting closer to Juliette, who had entered and curtsied. “Ma’am.”
“Please, just call me Gabby,” she said. “I was never a lady until I married Fergus, and I’m not very good at the niceties of it all.”
“As you wish, La- Gabby.” Juliette moved into the room. “What may I help you with?”
Gabby laughed. “I may not be a lady, but I still need help dressing. Buttons are on the back of the dress, and of course there is the problem of my corset, one of the evilest pieces of clothing ever conceived.”
Juliette laughed. “I agree with you there, ma’am.”
“I’ve selected a dress for the day,” Gabby said. “It’s going to be a busy one, so I choose something loose, but it still buttons in the back.”
She picked up her brush and ran it through her dark hair again.
“I can fix your hair after we have you dressed, Gabby,” Juliette said.
“That sounds wonderful.” Gabby got up and went to the adjoining bedroom, the one where her clothes were. As she’d predicted, Bonnie had put them in separate,
but attached rooms. Juliette helped her with her underthings, and then the corset. As Gabby grasped the bedpost she said, “Fergus and I have thought of something that might help Bonnie’s outlook on life.”
“I hope you’re right, Gabby.” There was a short pause when Juliette said Gabby. “Lady Bonnie needs something to make her smile.”
“We’re going to have a Yule Party, with food and games, and dancing.” Gabby turned her head to where Juliette was working the laces on her corset. “Do you know a local musical ensemble we can hire?”
Gabby felt Juliette take a step back from her. She had to hand it to the girl. She’d tied the corset quickly and not too tightly.
“My brother and his friends have a brass band,” Juliette said. “They hire out for fetes, and they play at the local pubs. They will be at The Forge and Fire tomorrow evening. You could hear them play.”
Juliette sounded so excited that Gabby couldn’t help but laugh. “Fergus and I will go hear him. Thank you, Juliette.”
“You’re welcome, Gabby.” The maid moved so she could look Gabby in the face. “My aunt Lydia is the cook here. She makes marvelous haggis, and her trifle is scrumptious. She’ll be so excited to hear about this.”
Gabby wondered how many other members of the staff were related to Juliette. “Sounds as if we don’t have to do much planning. Well, except for decorations, and…” Gabby let her voice drift off. “And what? She shot a nervous look in Juliette’s direction. “I’m not sure what else. I’ve never planned a party before.”
“Leave it to me, Lady- I mean, Gabby. It will be an incredible event.”
“That’s good to hear.” Fergus came into the room, fully dressed. Gabby put her hands on her hips and said, “I thought you were still asleep.”
“I’ve already eaten,” Fergus said. “I tried to see Bonnie, but she is still asleep. I believe we should send for the doctor. And after that, we’ll go to the church and talk with the priest.”
“Father Went,” Juliette said. “He knows everyone’s business.”
“As a priest should,” Fergus said. “When you’re done helping Gabby, please find Bud and have him send for the doctor. We’ll want ideas for the party when we return.”
Juliette nodded enthusiastically. Fergus sat down in the chair and watched as the maid helped her dress. From the look on his face, Gabby thought he would rather she was undressing. She winked at him, then licked her lips as Juliette worked to do the buttons on the back of her gown. He seemed as if there were a ton of energy bound inside him and he was trying to keep it from busting out of him.
“Behave yourself, imp,” he said.
“Why should I start now?” Gabby asked.
Juliette stepped back. “All done, ma’am. If you’ll sit, I’ll do your hair.”
As Juliette worked on her tresses, Gabby watched Fergus in the mirror. He ran his hands up and down his thighs, and then once, cupped himself. She couldn’t very well shake her head because that would put a kink in what Juliette was doing. After a few moments she finally said, “Now who should behave himself?”
“Never.” Fergus stood. “Your hair looks lovely, and I’m tired of sitting. I’m going to find Bud and send for the doctor.”
He bounded out the door and Gabby could see Juliette’s nervous look in the mirror. “Don’t worry, he’s not good at waiting. He will not be happy that he must wait for me to eat breakfast, and then we have to wait for the doctor. He’ll be pacing in front of the door before I’m done eating.”
What Gabby didn’t say was Fergus’ energy made him a fantastic lover. He was creative and always made sure his wife got her pleasure first.
He marched back in the room and demanded, “Are you ready?”
Now she was concerned. Fergus could get his back up about things, but this was too much.
“Juliette, please close the door when you leave.”
“Of course.” The maid scurried from the room.
When the door closed, Gabby asked. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing. Are you ready?”
He reached for the door handle and Gabby quickly picked up her skirts and moved until she was standing in front of him. “Fergus, what has changed? You were going to see the priest on your own and I was to plan the party. Now you’re back and forth and acting as if you’re being stalked by a monster.”
Gabby glanced at his hands. They were clenched into fists, and she stared at them, then looked nervously at her husband’s face. “You’ve seen a ghost.”
“That’s preposterous.” He tried to reach around her and tried to grab for the handle again and she put her hand on his. “There are no such things as ghosts, so I couldn’t have seen one.”
“Then you heard him, you heard Malcolm.”
“I heard something,” he said. “But it wasn’t Malcolm. Malcolm is dead.”
This time she failed to stop him from grabbing for the door. He was out it before she could question him any further. Perhaps they could talk in the carriage on their way to the church.
She hoped so. She didn’t like to see her husband like this. Not in the least.
They’d received a note back from the doctor within thirty minutes, telling them he could not attend to Bonnie until later that afternoon. Gabby had given instructions to Lydia and Juliette, and the ladies had their heads together as they’d started down the stairs.
Once they were in the carriage, Gabby had smoothed down her skirts, and thought of ways to start a conversation that would lead to talking about whatever Fergus had heard in the night. But the rigidity of his body told her he didn’t want to talk about it, and she hadn’t pushed the issue.
Now, as they walked up the path to the church, she saw him glance to the left, to the graveyard. She knew Malcolm was in there, and she wondered if they should visit his grave after they’d talked to Father Went.
The door to the church opened before they reached it, and a middle-aged man dressed all in black, with a clerical collar around his neck, stepped outside. “May I help you?” he asked, his voice light and friendly.
Fergus introduced them, and the priest’s smile dimmed.
“I remember you were here for Malcolm’s funeral,” Father Went said. “Forgive me for not recognizing you.”
“Not a problem,” Fergus said. He cut his gaze toward her, and Gabby knew he wanted her to take the lead.
“Father Went, we’re here to talk about Bonnie, and about Malcolm. May we go inside and sit?”
Was it her imagination, or was he going to refuse them? His face had darkened, but after a few, long moments he sighed and said, “Very well.”
Father Went led them to the sanctuary, which surprised Gabby. She thought he would want to speak in his office, where the possibility of being overheard was slight. When he sat down in a pew and turned toward the one behind him, Gabby knew he wanted the distance between them. She sat down, with Fergus beside her.
Fergus took her hand and squeezed. She got the signal, and kept her mouth closed. “When was the last time you saw Bonnie?” Fergus asked.
“Monday last,” Went said. “She seemed agitated, and when I told her I would come back in a few days’ time, she asked me not to.”
Gabby’s mouth opened in shock. Bonnie had refused the priest? Her body heated at the idea, and she shrugged off the wrap she’d worn. It seemed as if someone had lit a fire near them.
“Why?” Fergus asked.
“She gave no reason, but I soon learned of it.” The priest turned his attention to the wooden cross at the front of the nave and made the sign of the cross.
“Are you going to make us guess?”
“That woman,” the priest said. Gabby knew who he was talking about. The still unnamed spiritualist. “Your aunt has been taken in by a charlatan. Bonnie has let that woman lead her away from the Lord.”
Silence filled the church. Fergus glanced at her, and she nodded. “Father Went, have you met this woman?” Gabby asked.
“Certainly not,”
the priest said.
He didn’t elaborate, and Gabby continued, “Do you think she’s after Bonnie’s money?”
“What else could she want, except another soul for the devil?” he said. “She’s a witch, and I’ve reported her to the local authorities.”
The priest’s gaze was still focused on the altar.
“What do you know about Malcolm’s death?” Fergus asked.
“It is sad when one so young goes to be with the Lord.” Once again, the priest made the sign of the cross. “But there is no explanation for God’s will.”
“So, someone was meant to kill Malcolm?”
The anger in Fergus’ voice made Gabby grab his hand to offer some comfort. “From the day he was born, he was meant to be murdered?”
Went didn’t answer at first, but finally he said, “I’m aware of the rumors going around the county.”
“Rumors, or repeat of facts?” Fergus asked.
Gabby stared at the priest’s back. Why wouldn’t he turn toward them? Unless he knew something and was afraid his facial expression would give it away.
“I have a very busy day,” the priest said. He stood and still didn’t turn toward them.
“Priestly duties, or turning in witches?” Fergus asked.
“Good day.” The priest moved toward the front of the church without turning toward them or offering his hand.
“He knows something,” Fergus said.
“Perhaps he was told something in confession,” Gabby said. “If that is true, he can’t tell us. We will have to find out through our investigation.”
Fergus was silent, and Gabby was afraid her husband was not taking this development well.
“Let’s go to the cemetery,” Fergus said. He stood and helped her to her feet. When they were standing near Malcolm’s grave, she mentally chastised herself for not bringing flowers. They would have to come back again and bring a tribute. The stone was so new amongst the older ones, that it seemed out of place.
As she stood there, she thought about Malcolm and smile that always seemed to be present on his face. She’d only met him at the wedding celebration his mother had hosted for them, but he was always laughing, always bright.
