Ghostly Enchantment

by Angie Ray

  He flashed her a look of burning gratitude and turned towards the small desk. He reached for the decanter, but his hand passed right through the glass. He swore, and tried once more but it was no use. Bending over the bottle, he sniffed. With a groan, he collapsed on the chair, dropping his head between his hands. “Damnation, I can’t even smell it!”

  His distress made her wish she hadn’t asked for the brandy. It hadn’t occurred to her he wouldn’t be able to drink. What a strange, terrible existence he had, living in an in-between world, unable to remember his own past. How bleak. How lonely.

  Huddling under the blanket, she remembered that time in her own past when she had been so alone, when she felt invisible to the rest of the world. She had sworn never to endure that loneliness again. Marrying Bernard ensured she wouldn’t. But Phillip could not resolve his loneliness so easily. If she were able to help him, he might go on to a better place, but if she couldn’t--

  A sigh from Phillip interrupted her anxious thoughts. He raised his head, and as he met her eyes a whisper of a smile curved his lips. “Being a specter is more difficult than I thought it would be.” His gaze flickered to the brandy. “This must be further punishment for my sins.”

  How could he joke? But then again, what else could he do? Wail and moan like a more traditional ghost?

  Sudden determination filled her. “Cousin Winifred--who chaperoned me on the train--is leaving tomorrow. I’m driving to the train station with her to see her off. Aunt Letty is coming too, and on the way back I will question her more closely. Don’t worry Phillip,” she said earnestly. “We will find a way to clear your name.”

  He studied her for a long moment. Then he smiled, not flirtatiously, but warmly, in a way that made her heart flutter. “You’re an unusual woman, Margaret Westbourne.”

  “Because I want to help you? Anyone would do the same,” she said, forgetting how her common sense had tried to dissuade her from doing so.

  “No, not so much that,” he replied. “Because you didn’t run, screaming hysterically from the room. Even now, you sit calmly talking to a ghost as if one had visited you every day of your life.”

  Margaret blushed. Her behavior was shocking. But if she were absolutely truthful with herself, she would have to admit that she rather enjoyed being visited by a ghost. Especially one who had apparently lived an exciting life. Her own existence these past few years had been painfully uneventful, boring even. Until now.

  But of course, she couldn’t tell him that. “Hysteria would serve little purpose,” she said primly.

  His dark eyes gleamed for a moment. Still smiling, he saluted, then disappeared.

  Startled, she waited a few minutes to see if he would come back. When he didn’t, she blew out the lamp and went to sleep, a smile on her face.

  *****

  The next day at the train station, Cousin Winifred thanked Aunt Letty. “I’ve enjoyed my visit to your home. Now Margaret is settled, I must get back to my cottage.”

  “You’re welcome to stay,” said Aunt Letty.

  “Oh, thank you, Miss Chetwynd. But I find I do miss my garden. I am most anxious about my herbs. I fear they may not be able to tolerate this warm weather.”

  The day was indeed stifling. Standing on the platform, the sun beating down on them, Margaret wished she had chosen a different dress to wear. The long-sleeved, high-necked cloth of her carriage dress was sweltering hot.

  “I instructed a neighbor’s girl to water them,” Cousin Winifred continued, “but I am not certain she is reliable. I will return though, when it is time for Margaret to come home.”

  With a flurry of hugs and waves, Cousin Winifred boarded the train, and Margaret and Aunt Letty started back for Durnock Castle.

  Now was the time.

  “Aunt Letty,” Margaret began tentatively. “I wanted to ask you something about Phillip.”

  “Ah, poor Phillip,” the old woman sighed. “How restless he was. He always seemed to be searching for something, but I don’t believe he ever found it. Did I tell you how charming he was?”

  “Yes--“

  “After my sister died, he courted my cousin Caroline for a while. She told me how he serenaded her one night; and another time he whisked her away from a ball, so they could--“

  “Aunt Letty,” Margaret interrupted ruthlessly. “Don’t you think Phillip might wish to go to his heavenly reward instead of being trapped here on earth?”

  “Very likely. I would miss him though.”

  “Yes, but don’t you think we should try to help him?” Deciding subtlety was wasted on the older woman, Margaret came straight to the point. “I think he haunts the castle because he wants us to prove he didn’t murder Alicia.”

  “You think so, dear? You may be correct, but I don’t see how we could prove such a thing.”

  “Who saw Phillip push Alicia?” asked Margaret.

  “No one.”

  “No one? Then how could he be convicted?”

  “I don’t know, dear,” Aunt Letty sighed. “If only he had never married that horrible woman.”

  Margaret mulled over this new information. Why would a jury convict Phillip, a nobleman, of murder without any concrete evidence? It didn’t make sense.

  She was still puzzling over this when they drove up to Durnock Castle.

  Cecilia greeted them at the door. “Margaret,” she said gaily. “Since we are going to be sisters, we must become better acquainted. Would you like to go riding with me? I can have Cook prepare a picnic lunch for us if you like.”

  “I would enjoy that Cecilia,” Margaret said as Aunt Letty flitted away. She felt frustrated. The older woman was right. How could anyone prove Phillip was innocent?

  After agreeing to meet at the stables in thirty minutes, she went to change while Cecilia talked to the cook.

  Margaret managed to change in half that time. As she wandered out towards the stables, it occurred to her that she could try asking Cecilia about Phillip. Aunt Letty had probably inundated her with stories throughout her childhood, and perhaps Margaret could learn something that would help. Feeling more cheerful, she was busy formulating her questions, when she felt something solid plop on her head. Startled, she stopped and looked down at the ground. An apple core lay there. Looking up, she saw Jeremy stretched out on a branch, taking a large bite from another apple. When he saw her watching him, he stared at her solemnly.

  “Sorry, Miss Westbourne, I didn’t notice you.”

  Margaret immediately gained the impression that not only had he noticed her, but that he had also taken careful aim.

  She opened her mouth to rebuke him when a new voice intruded.

  “Jeremy, you will apologize to Miss Westbourne at once,” Geoffrey ordered his son sharply.

  Jeremy, a look of dismay on his face, tumbled off the branch and scrambled to his feet to face his father.

  “Beg pardon, Miss Westbourne. Didn’t mean nuthin’.”

  Margaret nodded.

  “Jeremy, I would like to speak to you privately inside the stables for a moment.”

  Margaret her lip as she watched the two go inside the stables. She had not wanted Jeremy to get a whipping.

  She heard the whistling and smacking sound of a switch being applied before the door opened and Jeremy came out rubbing his posterior. Geoffrey followed. Margaret stood awkwardly, watching them, not knowing what to say.

  “Cecilia and I are going riding,” she finally said to Geoffrey. “Would you and Jeremy like to come along?”

  “No, no, no!” a new voice intruded. Margaret turned to see Cecilia striding down the path, a bright smile on her face. “Forgive me, Margaret, but I have been looking forward to having some time alone with you. You cannot want these hulking men along.”

  Cecilia directed her gaze at Jeremy. “You should be attending your studies young man.” Glad to escape, the boy ran off and Cecilia turned to her husband. “Geoffrey, I’m so glad I found you. Aunt Letty is looking for someone to play backgammon. I alr
eady told Margaret I would ride with her, so I was wondering if you would mind?” Cecilia smiled pleadingly at her husband.

  Geoffrey stiffened a little, but his voice was mild. “Of course, darling.” With a slightly awkward bow to Margaret, he stumped off toward the house.

  Cecilia frowned after him. Then with a shake of her head, she said to Margaret, “I apologize for cutting you off like that, but he’s not supposed to ride.”

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I had no idea.”

  “It’s not your fault. Actually, I was afraid he might accept. Every so often, a reckless humor overtakes him. I have to watch him constantly. Did Bernard tell you about the position he found for Geoffrey in London?”

  “No,” Margaret said.

  “It’s with the Board of Trade. When Bernard heard about an opening for a clerk, he thought of Geoffrey.”

  “It sounds perfect for your husband!”

  Cecilia shook her head. “I don’t think he will accept it. After we discussed it, he realized there would be too many drawbacks to living in London. Besides, he’s not certain he’s ready for the stress of a regular post.”

  “I see,” Margaret said, although she was surprised by the other woman’s assessment. Geoffrey seemed very healthy to her. “How did he lose his leg?”

  “His horse fell on him in a battle. His entire leg was crushed and the lower portion had to be amputated. He had to leave the army. It’s been a difficult adjustment. For the longest time, Geoffrey was restless. He had nothing to occupy him, you see. When Jeremy came, it was a blessing. He pulled Geoffrey out of his megrims.”

  “He seems like a very nice boy,” Margaret said politely.

  Cecilia laughed. “I don’t know if I would describe him as ‘nice’. A ‘handful’ would be more appropriate. I only wish we could cure him of his atrocious habit of practical jokes.” She frowned for a moment. “Although actually, he hasn’t played one for the last few months. He’s changed. He wasn’t used to be so sullen. I don’t know what’s the matter with him.”

  Cecilia sighed. Then, with a bright smile she said, “Why on earth are we standing here? Come along, let’s not waste any more of this glorious day.”

  *****

  Glorious or not, Margaret was very hot when they returned later that afternoon. They had ridden over much of the extensive castle grounds, past an ornamental lake, through an oak spinney, and down to the River Tees. Although she had enjoyed herself, unfortunately she had learned nothing about Phillip. When she delicately asked about him, Cecilia had only laughed and said she never paid attention to Aunt Letty’s nonsense. Instead, Cecilia spoke of her experiences in Burma and Africa, and for a while Margaret had forgotten about Phillip.

  She went up to her room to change. While Yvette unbuttoned her dress, Margaret was lost in a pleasant daydream of hot blue skies, emerald green forests, and tall purple mountains. What it would be like to visit such a place? she wondered dreamily. She was about to pull down the bodice, when she felt a sudden draft of cool air on her skin. She froze for a moment, before twisting her head around. Phillip, leaning against one of the red bedposts, was watching her lazily.

  With a squeal, Margaret grabbed the neck of her dress and ran behind the screen. “What are you doing here?” she asked in a shrill voice.

  Yvette’s brow creased. “Helping you change, Miss.”

  Straightening, Phillip walked forward a few steps. He inspected the scene of Diana bathing painted on one of the screen’s panels, before looking up to grin unrepentantly at her. “I wanted to speak with you.”

  “Couldn’t you wait?”

  “I thought you wanted to change,” Yvette said in bewildered tones.

  “I’m glad I didn’t. My impatience is greatly rewarded.” His glinting eyes dropped to her shoulders, barely visible above the screen.

  Margaret opened her mouth to make a blistering reply, but fortunately caught sight of her maid’s confused face. Biting her lip, she glared at him instead.

  Phillip laughed, but then rubbed his arms, shivering. “Damn, it’s cold in here. Tell your maid to light a fire.”

  Margaret hesitated, but she wanted to be able to talk to Phillip without worrying about the maid, so she said, “Yvette, would you please get some wood for the fire?”

  Yvette stared at her as if she had gone berserk. “Gibbons said today’s the hottest day in a decade.”

  “It’s a bit chilly in here,” Margaret said weakly. “Please, Yvette.”

  With a shake of her head, the maid left.

  Behind the protection of the screen, Margaret glared again at Phillip. “I didn’t know you could appear during the day.”

  “Nor did I. It takes a considerable amount of concentration. I should do so more often; being a ghost has a few unexpected benefits.” His eyes dropped again and for one terrible moment, Margaret thought he could see right through the screen.

  “You can’t see through the screen, can you?” she stammered.

  He smiled a devilish grin, and she almost fainted, until, much to her relief, he shook his head. “Alas, no. But you need not be so modest, Margaret. I am a phantasm. A spirit cares nothing for clothes. Your state of dress--or undress--is a matter of complete indifference to me.”

  “Then you won’t care if I stay behind the screen.”

  He grinned at this sally, before continuing with spurious sincerity. “Truly, you ought not be concerned. Clothes are meaningless to a ghost. In fact, I’m surprised I even appear to be wearing any. Do you think I can take them off?”

  He lifted a hand to his cravat and Margaret screeched, “Don’t you dare!”

  His hand hovered near the neckcloth. “Surely you’re willing to sacrifice your modesty for the advancement of scientific knowledge?”

  Her eyes flickered over him, and a picture of the naked man painted over her bed flashed into her brain. For one insane moment, she was tempted to agree and advance not only scientific knowledge, but her personal knowledge. Her gaze rose to his, and seeing the wicked sparkle in his eyes, she regained control of her wits. She frowned fiercely.

  He sighed. “I suppose not. Women are so cruel, so selfish.”

  “Oh, do be quiet.” She was beginning to feel foolish, hiding behind the screen, and his outrageous teasing was not helping. “Why are you here?”

  “Merely I am eager to know what you have discovered.”

  “Oh.” Margaret lowered her gaze and traced a finger along the burled edge of the screen. “It’s very strange, Phillip.”

  “What is?”

  “Aunt Letty says no one was present when you...I mean, when Alicia fell down the stairs. She doesn’t think we can prove you are innocent.”

  It was Phillip’s turn to glare. “There has to be a way. What did she say about the trial?”

  “I didn’t ask about the trial.”

  “You didn’t? Why the hell not?”

  “I didn’t think of it. I’m sorry.” She felt ridiculously guilty for her failure. “I’ll ask tonight, I promise.” She sighed. “It is too bad you can’t talk to Aunt Letty directly. Are you certain you cannot appear to her?”

  “Yes.” He paused, a thought occurring to him. “Although perhaps I can appear when you ask the questions. Then I can steer you in the right direction. And just hearing her may prompt my memory.” He nodded decisively. “I will try for dinner tonight.”

  This did not sound so good. His mocking presence would be difficult to handle with everyone else present--especially Bernard. “I don’t know, Phillip. The whole family will be there. It will not be very easy to question Aunt Letty with everyone present.”

  He looked at her consideringly. “You mentioned you are betrothed. Your fiance will be there, I take it?”

  “Bernard? Of course. As well as his sister, her husband and their son. You see how difficult it would be to question Aunt Letty?”

  “Not at all,” he said coolly. “In fact, I find I’m curious to meet everyone. Especially Bernard.”

  Margaret hesitate
d. She could not really refuse; he would probably come anyway. Nodding reluctantly, she was aware of an uneasy feeling that she would not enjoy her meal tonight.

  Chapter Nine

  Margaret was halfway through her onion soup when she looked up and saw Phillip leaning against the sideboard behind Geoffrey. Nervously she glanced around the table, not quite able to believe that no one else could see him. He was fainter, his auburn hair not so bright, the blue-green of his coat darker. But although his image wasn’t quite as distinct, he was still plainly visible--at least to her. Everyone else was eating and conversing, oblivious to his presence.

  “Dear heaven, what is that you’re eating? It looks delicious,” he said, inhaling deeply. “I can almost smell it.” He gazed with rapt attention as she lifted a spoonful to her mouth.

  With all the pathos of a starving dog, he watched her swallow. “I’m starving,” he said. “Do you realize it’s been over seventy-eight years since I had a meal?”

  “Men,” she muttered. All they thought of were their wretched stomachs. They never paid attention to important things, like the special care a woman sometimes takes with her appearance.

  Perhaps he noticed her displeasure because suddenly he turned on the full force of his smile and said, “But where are my manners? Good evening, Miss Westbourne.” His eyes roved over her appreciatively. “How lovely you look this evening. That dress is vastly becoming.”

  Some of her displeasure dissipated. She knew it was. The neckline was cut low, showing off her arms and shoulders. The tight fit of the bodice emphasized her slim figure and the rose hue lent a touch of color to her cheeks. She had worried a bit about the absence of her bust-improver, but the wool pads were too uncomfortable in this hot weather.

  She had selected the dress with care. Not because she wanted to impress Phillip, but because... well, because she wanted to look nice for Bernard. Still, she was glad Phillip had noticed. Bernard certainly hadn’t, she thought with a glare at her unsuspecting fiance.