“Mrs. Miggins. I’m pleased to meet you,” he said in melodic voice spiced with lowland burr.
“Mr. Rawlings.”
“Please, call me Rawly.”
“As you wish. You are acquainted with Mr. Scrum, I hear?”
“Aye, through the Bank of Scotland. I had financial affairs that he has been assisting me with. He was kind enough to recommend your lodging house. I am most grateful you found room for me.”
“I must thank him at tonight’s sup. I hope you will be very comfortable while you are with us. How long do you expect to stay?” Adorna hoped she didn’t sound too over-eager.
He raised one thick brow. “My plans are open at this time. It rather depends on how much I get accomplished. I trust that will not be a difficulty—should I need to extend my stay?” He flashed her a smile that was white and wide.
“Not at all. With Mr. Scrum’s sterling recommendation, we will be pleased to have you stay as long as you wish. May I inquire what task brings you to Edbinburgh?”
“You won’t be offended if I say I prefer to keep my activities private? Now if you will excuse me.”
“Yes, of course. Crosbie will show you to your room.”
He nodded politely, shouldered a small wooden chest, scooped up the battered leather bag she had noted earlier, and followed Crosbie up the stairs. As he turned the corner and paused on the first landing, the light from the window made a pattern of light bars across his body. She swore an earring winked in one ear.
Definitely piratical and quite a mystery. His reluctance to tell her what he did had piqued her interest. Adorna made it a habit to stay out of other people’s business, but she did admit to herself she was more than a little intrigued by the mysterious lodger.
Chapter Two
The candles on the sideboard guttered slightly as everyone entered the dining room. Toffy was seated at her usual place on Adorna’s right, her short rest had put roses in her cheeks. Mr. Scrum was on her left, Mrs. Wise sat next to him, as was her custom. Much blushing and touching of his sleeve would be expected. Adorna thought the lady held out hopes of a romance with the elderly banker.
Mr. Scrum was kind and solid, thick salt-and-pepper mutton-chop whiskers framed his round face, and he peered out at the world through soft brown eyes that belied his shrewd business acumen. He was dressed in a plain tan waistcoat and dark brown coat, with brown breeches. The very picture of a staid banker.
Cook had served the cock-a-leekie soup, but they were all waiting politely for Mr. Rawlings to join them before they tucked in. Each of them seemed to be staring at his bowl with anticipation.
The click of boots on the wooden floor announced him. Crosbie appeared from nowhere to pull out the chair and seat the last diner.
“I apologize for my tardiness,” Rawly said to the group with a toothy smile. “Ah, this smells good.”
“Mr. Rawlings, allow me to introduce Mrs. Wise, you already know Mr. Scrum, and this is my Aunt Toffy.” Adorna gestured to each one in turn.
“Very please to make your acquaintance.” He unfolded his cloth and placed it on his lap. Adorna found herself looking for an earring to see if it was more than just a fancy of her imagination. His neck cloth was tied in such a way that it met his hair, which was not clubbed but cut shorter, with a fringe of curls at his forehead still damp from his ablutions. For a moment Adorna found herself thinking of Meridius, her aunt’s fictional Roman.
“I hope you like lamb, Mr. Rawlings,” Toffy said.
“Please, call me Rawly. Mr. Rawlings puts me in mind of my grandfather, and I hope I cut a slightly more dashing figure, though he does still sit a horse and hunt with the best.” He chuckled and winked at Mrs. Wise, and she blushed beneath his scrutiny and his quite scandalous behavior.
“Mr. Scrum, would you say grace?” Adorna asked.
He obliged with a quick blessing, and soon the sound of cutlery on china filled the room.
“I heard at the bank today that another lodging house near Tanner’s Close has been closed. More of the effects of the Burke and Hare scandal. As the trial progresses, lodging houses are taking the brunt—the good with the bad.”
“How many is that now?” Mrs. Wise asked.
“A full dozen that I am aware of have closed or been closed by the bailiff for various offenses. There could be more of course.” Mr. Scrum’s brow was wrinkled in thought. “They are also constructing another watch-tower in one of the out-lying cemeteries. Families are still paying watchmen to monitor the grave for a fortnight so the dead can rest in peace.”
“After a fortnight are they safe?” Mrs. Wise looked worried.
“Evidently that time period renders the uh—body too—old to be of use to the physicians.” He was clearly uncomfortable going into detail.
Adorna did not voice her own fears; if the lodging house closed, she and Toffy would not be able to live. She must maintain a clean and well respected house to keep them fed and solvent. So while others feared being murdered in their beds, she feared the specter of starvation and want.
“Crosbie, please tell Cook, I will need her to pick up some fish from the market tomorrow,” Aunt Toffy said before she tucked into her soup.
“Are you wanting fish, Aunt? That is not a dish you are particularly fond of,” Adorna asked in surprise. Toffy was not partial to things of the sea in any form.
“No, no not for me. I need to ferment it in a clay pot,” Toffy answered absently, her full attention on her soup bowl.
“Why on earth would you choose to do that, Miss Toffy? Is it to feed your flowers in the garden? I have heard fish make a fine fertilizer for flowers and soft-fruits,” Mr. Scrum asked with a little smile peeking from his facial hair. Toffy was quite everyone’s favorite.
“No…if I do it correctly, it will make something called garum.”
At the other end of the table, Mr. Rawlings dropped his spoon and splashed soup over the fine fabric of his shirt front.
“Are you quite all right, Rawly?” Mr. Scrum asked, his whiskers quivering like an agitated rabbit.
“What? Yes, quite all right.” Mr. Rawlings dabbed at his shirt front. “How clumsy of me. Miss Toffy, did I hear you correctly? You are desiring to make garum?”
“Yes, that’s quite correct. Garum, to pour over our food. I have it on the very best authority that it is delicious and good for the digestion. In fact, Mer—”
“Cook!” Adorna shoved back her chair and stood up abruptly, cutting off Toffy’s words. “Please clear our bowls and bring out our main course.”
“But Adorna, I have barely started my cock-a-leekie,” Mrs. Wise protested.
Rawly sat back in his chair and watched the sudden hustle and bustle, his mind at work wondering what it was that the pretty young widow did not want her aunt to say. A smile twitched at this lips. Could it be possible he had simply blundered into this house and found a clue? He wondered. ’Tis a rare thing to find an aging woman who knew about Roman garum. A very rare thing indeed.
****
Dinner progressed without further incident, but Rawly was fairly twitching to question Toffy about her knowledge of garum tonight.
“Shall we go to the drawing room?” Adorna rose from her chair, and the other ladies did the same. “Mr. Scrum will you be taking your pipe to the back garden?”
“Why yes, I believe I will. Would you care to join me Rawly?”
Rawly nodded. This was her gracious way of keeping offensive smoke out of her home and banishing the men from the company of the women. He followed the banker through the hall and out into a very pleasant walled garden behind the house. Gloaming cast a pleasant mauve wash across the tiny buds of flowers beginning to put out new shoots. It was early yet, but a handful of warm days had started the fruit trees.
“A pleasant household, is it not?” Mr. Scrum said as he puffed on his pipe to get the tobacco lit. “Toffy has a green thumb and is devoted to her flowers as you will see when the weather warms a bit more. This garden will be ali
ve with color and scent.”
“Most pleasant. I thank you for recommending it to me.” Rawly seated himself on a stone bench. He could hear the clop of horses’ hooves beyond the wall in the busy thoroughfare. This small oasis could almost make one forget they were in a very populous part of the old city. The smell here was also a refreshing change from typical city life.
“It was my pleasure. Times have been lean since that scandal with Burke and Hare has been revealed. Lord Advocate Sir William Rae was a canny man to get the Hares to turn against Burke.” Mr. Scrum paused and took a deep breath.
Rawly was content to sit in silence and enjoy the garden. He had begun to wonder if the older man had nodded off when he turned to Rawly and speared him with a hard look.
“Many respectable lodgers are afraid to stay in a home, particularly one run by a widow, lest there be a death. Many are afraid of becoming victims. They see murders and blackguards behind every mob-cap. Adorna has been living close to the bone. Your custom here will ease the pinch. Don’t misunderstand me, she is no spendthrift. Her late husband left her provided for, but her allowance is strict. Fripperies and the like for her and Toffy must come from income she generates from the lodging house.”
“What is her familial relationship to Toffy?” Rawly was very curious about the elderly woman.
“Toffy was an elder sister to Adorna’s father. Her mother died when she was yet a babe in arms. Toffy raised her. Adorna’s father was a good man, if a little severe and set in his ways.”
“How so?” Rawly wanted to hear more about Toffy not Adorna, the pretty young widow. His interest was not in romance but in answering the question that had become his obsession.
“Her father arranged her marriage according to common custom. Henry was a kindly man but far too old to be a proper husband to a young wife like Adorna. He was nearly twice her age. His health began to fail almost before the ink was dry on the banns. She was more nursemaid than wife.” Mr. Scrum clucked his tongue in disapproval. “Well, the night grows nigh, shall we join the fairer sex by a warm fire?” He tapped the dottle from his pipe and rose to return to the house.
When Rawly and Mr. Scrum entered the room, he was met with a tableau of domesticity. Mrs. Wise’s knitting needles clacked with industry. Adorna was reading aloud, and Toffy was creating lace of fine thread with a pillow, pins, and long wooden bobbins. Crosbie moved about the room, trimming wicks, lighting candles, poking at the coal, clearly listening with rapt attention to the novel.
Rawly took a moment to study them all while Mr. Scrum stood by the side-board. “May I ask what you are reading?” Rawly inquired.
“Mr. James Fenimore Cooper’s Last of the Mohicans. Mr. Scrum had an acquaintance that brought it back from Philadelphia in America. It is an exciting tale of red Indians and the wilderness.
Rawly sat quietly and observed. He focused on the butler.
Crosbie was an interesting servant. His skin was the color of creamed tea, his height much above the average man, lean and sinewy of body. It was difficult to judge his age, somewhere between twenty and fifty. His hands showed a strength that he never gained in any drawing room Rawly could imagine. He wondered about the man’s past life—he would wager it was more interesting than any tale found in the pages of a book.
“Ma’m, will you require anything else?” Crosbie asked.
“If you would check the locks, and see if Meg or Cook need anything before they go up, then I will bank the fire and snuff the candles before I retire. Thank you, Crosbie. I’m tired and will be reading no more this eve.”
“Very good, ma’m. Thank you.”
Rawly saw the unspoken communication between them. She would not continue the book, until Crosbie was there to hear. He found that most appealing.
“Ah, Mr. Scrum, come seat yourself by me. The fire is most pleasant.” Mrs. Wise patted the settee beside her and flattened her skirts to create more room.
“I would be honored.” His whiskers quivered with obvious pleasure. He settled himself beside the woman with a satisfied sigh.
Rawly positioned himself near the hearth, where he could watch over Toffy’s shoulder as she twisted and arranged the bobbins.
“That is fine work—may I call you Toffy?”
“Oh yes, please do. Tit for tat since I am to call you Rawly.” Her hands were swift and sure. “And what I am doing is called tatting.” She chuckled at her jest.
“Rawly, may I offer you a dram of whisky—sherry? I believe we have a little port?” Adorna rose and moved to the sideboard.
“Fine Scottish whisky would be welcome. May I help you pour?” Rawly moved to the heavy carved sideboard where a selection of glass bottles and dram measures were lined up. There was a full bottle of red wine that appeared it had not been opened. The golden and amber liquids glowed in the firelight.
“Aunt Toffy, will you have your nightly whisky?” Adorna asked.
“No, I think I would like wine—watered, with a bit of honey please dear.”
“But you always have a dram before bed, you said it helps you sleep.” Adorna’s forehead puckered in a little frown.
“Aye, it does, but my friend suggested I try the honeyed wine. Says it is beneficial for the health.” Toffy kept her eyes on the lace she was creating.
“Would that be the same friend that told you of the garum?” Rawly asked mildly. He did not miss the stiffening of Adorna’s shoulders. She was wound as tight as a clock spring.
“Yes, it is. Meridius thought I would enjoy both.”
“Meridius? What an unusual name. I would very much like to meet your friend, Toffy,” Rawly said.
The widow gave him a sharp look. “Rawly, we should be getting to know about you, not boring you with tales of food and drink.” Adorna picked up a glass decanter and began to pour out a dram. “Tell us about yourself. You have come lately to Edinburgh I believe you said.”
“Yes, I have been abroad.” Now it was his turn to want to turn the subject.
“How exciting,” Mrs. Wise chirped. “Where?”
His eyes narrowed, and he was reluctant to answer. “Most recently I have been in Italy.”
“Isn’t that a coincidence,” Aunt Toffy said with a smile. “My friend spent his childhood in Italy.”
Rawly jumped aside as a cut glass decanter suddenly crashed to the floor, narrowly missing his leg. Shards of broken glass and whisky washed across the toe of his boot.
“Oh!” Adorna squeaked as she jumped clear of the glass. There was a dark stain at the bottom of her full skirt.
“Are you hurt?” he asked Adorna. “Did you get cut?” He grabbed her hands and examined them.
“No, no I’m unharmed. Look we have stained your boot. Please leave them in the hall, and I will have Meg give them a polish. “
“Strange, but I think that jug flew off the table of its own accord,” Rawly mused.
“Nonsense, it was naught more than my clumsiness. I must be overtired. You must be tired as well. Toffy can we forego the libation this evening? Would you walk me up? Mr. Scrum, if you could see to the fire and the candles?”
“Of course, my dear. Take yourself off to bed. I will make sure all is in order. Mrs. Wise and I will keep Rawly company for a bit.”
“Ladies.” Rawly nodded as they swished by him, Toffy clucking to Adorna, checking her fingers to make sure she was not hurt.
How odd. It seemed there were subtle secrets in this house. He found himself curious about Toffy’s friend, that Italian who knew about garum and recommended watered wine. Perhaps if he was fortunate, they could meet and have a talk.
****
The next afternoon Rawly found Toffy in the back garden. The day had been fine, warm, and sunny. She wore a day dress with a light woolen shawl around her shoulders. A light breeze lifted the edges of her lace cap.
“Miss Toffy, I hope I am not interrupting,” he said as he sat down on one of the stone benches. He was wearing his roomiest coat. As he sat down, he noticed he still had
a good deal of mud on his breeches. If she noticed, she did not comment.
“Not at all. I was just doing a little tending of my flowers.”
“They will be lovely when they bloom. I hope I’m not overstepping, but I brought you a gift.” He brought out a bundle from within his coat.
“A gift? It has been more years than I can count since a handsome man brought me a gift.”
“It is small.” He extended the bundle.
Toffy took it and began to unwrap. She found a simple earthenware jug with a cork. “It is very nice…”
“Ah, I see you are confused. It is for your garum. You put the fish inside, cork it tightly, and put it in the most sunny section of your garden.” He chuckled.
“That is what I do?”
“So your friend did not tell you the process?” Rawly was very curious about her friend, Mr. Meridius.
“Nay. Perhaps you should.” She held the jug and waited.
“As you wish. The sun, the heat, and the tightly corked jug cook the fish inside. After enough time it will produce your garum. The sun is essential.”
“Then we must hope for sunny days. I will get the fish into it and find a spot. Thank you so much, Rawly.”
He rose from the stone bench and did a little bow. “You are very welcome. Perhaps sometime I might meet Mr. Meridius?”
Toffy gave him an odd look, then she smiled. “Perhaps. We shall see if that is possible.”
****
Each day Adorna came downstairs to discover Rawly gone quite early. Each afternoon he returned, covered in dirt and grime, looking as if he worked as a collier. By dinner he was washed, cleaned, and back to his mysterious self. He still answered no questions, volunteered no information, and seemed altogether too eager to remain an unsolved mystery. She found herself obsessed with what it was he did each day. When after two weeks she could stand it no more she sought out Crosbie.
“Tell me, do you see Mr. Rawlings leave each day?”
“Aye. He slings his leather bag over his shoulder and is out at sunrise.”
Aunt Toffy and the Ghost Page 2
