“That is not necessary. I could find my way in the dark of night. Good day to you, sir. I will see you and your grandfather later.”
“As you wish, Mrs. Miggins. Until this afternoon.” He turned away and was swallowed by the fog.
****
Adorna returned to find her household in a fit of industry. Cook’s cheeks were pinker than usual. “What is amiss?”
“I’m makin’ a special effort for the evening meal,” Cook replied without ever looking up. “We don’t have much, but what we have wi’ be fine.”
“That will be lovely,” Adorna murmured.
She had one foot on the stair tread when there came a knock at the door.
Crosbie opened it and found Mrs. Raeburn there. She seemed agitated. Her green bonnet was askew, and she wore a cloak with a pattern of bright flowers that clearly did not match the colors of her plaid day dress.
“Oh, thank goodness you are here. May I come in?” She was out of breath and wild of eye—definitely not herself.
“Of course, what has happened?”
“I have lost something. I have looked everywhere, and I can only think it was lost here. May I look?”
“Certainly.” Adorna stepped aside, and the woman nearly flew up the stairs. She entered the room she and her husband had occupied and did a thorough search, checking under the hem of the curtains, at each corner of the room, even lifting the mattress. At length she collapsed in tears into the small chair beside the window.
“Oh! I don’t know what I shall tell my husband. Mr. Raeburn is a patient man, but he will be so disappointed. It will be worse than him raising his voice to me, to see the bitter disappointment in his eyes.” She collapsed into a wailing fit of tears.
“Is there something we can do?” Toffy patted the distraught woman’s shoulder, barely making herself heard over the din. Toffy smoothed out a wild curl that had popped up and put it back into the lady’s bun. This only made her weep all the harder.
“I canna tell him—I don’t know how to tell him—he is not a man given to vanities—as you well know—this is his one treasure. His one solitary frippery. His one link with his ancestors. Oh, he will never forgive me.”
Adorna didn’t know what to say. So far Mrs. Raeburn had not told them what she was looking for and given the woman’s state of mind she was not sure she should ask. So she stood, beside Toffy, cooing sympathy when it seemed appropriate and waiting until each flood of tears subsided a little. Then Toffy cocked her head as if she were listening to some tune that nobody else could hear.
“Mrs. Raeburn, you should look for the thistle among the spills,” Toffy said cryptically.
“What?” Mrs. Rayburn’s head snapped up and she clutched a trembling hand to her throat. “What did you say?”
“Seek the thistle among the spills.”
“How do you know about the thistle? I never said.”
Adorna frowned at Toffy. Whatever could she mean? But curiosity won out, and they all moved toward the fireplace mantel. A small woven basket of twisted spills was kept on the mantel. Meg used to them light the candles each night after the fires were laid.
There, among the slender twists she caught a glint of a gem. She picked up a stickpin, about five inches long. A small thistle, fashioned of gemstones set in worked silver winked in her hand—fine craftsmanship and old.
“Is this what you seek?”
Mrs. Raeburn took it from Adorna’s hand with the utmost care.
“Oh! Yes. Yes, it is.” She pulled a small handkerchief from her pocket and wrapped it up. She put it in her reticule and beamed. She lowered her voice to little more than a whisper. “My husband comes from a long line of secret Jacobites, you see. This belonged to one of his many relatives that fell at Culloden. It is most precious to him. I cannot thank you enough, and now I must be home.”
With that said, she rushed from the room and could be heard clomping down the stairs.
“Don’t tell me, let me guess—Meridius told you where to look and what it was she had lost.”
Toffy only smiled and nodded.
****
Adorna entered her room and sat in the wooden rocker by the window. Fog drifted by outside, with only the occasional glimpse of street traffic. She could hear the sound of industry below in her home. Evidently her household was treating Mr. Rawlings arrival as a great social event. She was quite happy to have him as a lodger as well, but she was having a difficult time digesting what had happened with Toffy and the stickpin. She could not bring herself to even think the item had been found by a ghost. She decided she would think about it later, pushing it all to the back of her mind she was determined to focus on her new houseguest.
Adorna changed out of her day dress. It was still damp at the hem from her walk to Grayfriars. She hung it over the chair to dry. She brushed and redressed her hair and rubbed a bit of rose water on her wrists. Then she slipped into her mauve watered silk, quite the best dress she owned. She felt a bit festive when she stepped downstairs and found almost everyone in the parlor.
“Mr. Scrum how was business today at the bank?” Mrs. Wise was asking when Adorna joined them.
“The cold snap in the weather made the day rather slow. I was looking forward to enjoying a bit of conviviality with you all. Nothing like a warm fire and good company.”
As if rehearsed and on cue, Rawly walked in the front door. Beside him was a rather sharp eyed, slender built gentleman sporting a wild head of white hair.
“Good day to you all. May I introduce my grandfather, Basil Rawlings, Twelfth Laird of Dullinmuth?”
“A pleasure.” The elder man executed an elegant bow. He fastened his gaze on each person in turn and then approached Toffy. “Ma’m, your servant.”
Toffy blushed to the roots of her hair. Adorna found herself smiling. Evidently a woman never got too old to appreciate the attentions of a distinguished man. Her aunt might be labeled a spinster by society, but she clearly had an allure that was timeless.
“Please seat yourself, and I will pour us a libation while we wait for our meal. Do you favor cream,” Adorna asked Laird Rawlings and Rawly with a sweep of her gaze while she poured a cup of tea out of her best pot.
“A little sugar only, if you would be so kind.” Laird Rawlings took a chair as near to Toffy as could be managed.
She giggled like a girl, and Adorna found herself extremely pleased with the Rawlings men. It was always a treat to see Toffy happy, and they both seemed intent on flattering her whenever they were around.
Soon they were all engaged in pleasant discourse. Adorna relaxed as she listened to Basil Rawlings’ lovely burr. He was a charming gentleman with old world manners and twinkling eyes. He lavished exceptional attention on Toffy and Mrs. Wise. But to his credit, he did not neglect Adorna. He drew her into the conversation whenever possible. She wondered why he was not married, seeming to enjoy the company of women as he did.
“Tell me, my dear Mrs. Miggins, would it be possible for me to do some entertaining while I reside here?” he asked suddenly.
She did not miss the hard lines that suddenly etched themselves around Rawly’s eyes and mouth. Why did that question discomfit him so?
“As you can see, Laird Rawlings, I have a modest household. We have only this parlor and the dining room, for receiving guests. I don’t even have a carriage house or a stable boy. Any kind of formal entertaining would be difficult.”
He smiled somewhat wickedly. “I have acquired the small stable that is cheek by jowl to the back portion of your home. Just over the wall it is. There is a bonny accommodation at the top, tight and dry. A stable boy and a groom will use it while residing with the horses.”
“What horses?” Rawly and Adorna said together, she was somewhat stunned by the pleasing harmony of their voices.
“My team of four from Dullinmuth and that braw stallion you rode, Toby. I bought him upon my arrival. I canna have my carriage sitting in the rain. The groom and the driver have taken care of al
l the particulars of feed and the like.”
Rawly flushed, but she was not sure if it was the nickname, Toby, that his grandfather had used or the information that he was setting himself up somewhat permanently in Edinburgh. She had the distinct impression that Rawly had expected his grandfather’s stay to be temporary. On the one hand, she relished the extra income, but a part of her was empathetic to Rawly. He had done so much since being here to keep his private affairs private she had the notion he was not happy to have a personal sobriquet revealed to all and sundry or that he would now have someone so intimately acquainted with him available to reveal his secrets.
“Grandfather, what do you mean you purchased the stallion I rented to make the ride to Dullinmuth?” Rawly’s tone of voice revealed his feelings.
“Aye, he is fine beast and will be a good stud for Dullinmuth when ye return home. ’Tis not a canny thing to allow that quality animal to be let out at a livery. He should be siring colts and preserving the bloodline.” He stared pointedly at Rawly when he said this. “Now, back to my question, Mrs. Miggins. Could we entertain? This single parlor will serve. I’m thinking of having a small tea or two if necessary. With you three lovely ladies in attendance to act as my hostesses, it will serve quite well.”
“I’m not sure I quite understand. You wish to have formal teas with Toffy, Mrs. Wise and myself hosting—whom precisely will we be hosting?”
“Dinna I say? Pardon, let me clear matters. We need to host teas for eligible young women of course.”
“Eligible women?” Adorna sputtered. Perhaps Basil was looking for a wife after all.
“Eligible young women—those with a mind to marry—and quickly.” He announced with a tilt of his silver head.
“To what purpose, Laird Rawlings,” Mrs. Wise asked.
“We are shopping for a bride of course. And by we, I mean Rawly. He needs a wife who is capable of providing an heir for Dullinmuth. I need that heir as soon as possible. I am not getting any younger with the waiting. I need him wedded and bedded.”
It was at that point that Mrs. Wise swooned and slipped out of her chair, Rawly uttered an oath not often heard in gentle company, and Mr. Scrum raised his glass in toast to the Scottish octogenarian who sat with a pleased smile on his face amid all the chaos.
Chapter Five
The next morning the house was back to normal—nearly. They all, with the exception of Rawly who had left before dawn, sat at the table breakfasting on a fine stack of griddle cakes, hot scones with a plum conserve, and creamy porridge. Crosbie had taken the extra coin from Basil’s lodging fee and gone early to the markets. It was good to see the table laden with good, hot food.
Basil had a healthy appetite and was able to keep up a steady stream of talk while he ate. Adorna did not miss the high spots of color on the cheeks of Mrs. Wise and Aunt Toffy as Laird Rawlings outlined his specifics in the wife-hunt.
“So you see, what I am needing you ladies to do is evaluate the young woman on the virtues that make a biddable wife.”
“Such as? It has been many years since I was a bride, perhaps you should be specific in your—er—Rawly’s needs,” Mrs. Wise asked between bites of scone, clearly intrigued by the notion.
“A moderate temperament, of course,” Basil announced.
“Of course,” she agreed. “A wife that is too headstrong will be a source of unhappiness.”
“It would do well if she were skilled in the arts of keeping a home. Dullinmuth is not a large estate, but it is respectable in size and scope. She will need to have a head for figures, be able to manage a moderate staff. And of course it would serve well if she were a bonny lass. Rawly should not be shackled to a girl who is not bonny of face. I have in mind to dandle well favored great-grand-children on my knee. I wouldna’ want an ugly bairn running about.” He purred in his rough Scot’s burr.
Adorna nearly choked on that.
“You sound as if you know what you are looking for, why don’t you just make these assessments yourself, Basil?” Aunt Toffy asked in all civility though there was a hard edge to her voice.
“I fear that Toby might object.”
“What possible difference would it make if he did?” Toffy retorted with a frown. “Clearly you are the one with the list, so if you are pleased with the young woman, then that is all that matters. It comes to my mind that you are the one anxious to marry, not your grandson. So if you and the bride are content, it comes to my mind that Rawly will be expected to swallow whole whatever is put in his mouth.”
Basil Rawlings looked at Toffy and Adorna each in turn. “I fear I have made an enemy of you. That was not my intention. I am an old man—I wish to see my legacy secure—I want grandchildren. Do you think it cruel for me to wish my grandson settled with a wife?”
“If the only purpose is to see him produce an heir, then yes,” Toffy said flatly. “Does love not enter into the match?” Truthful to a fault.
“’Twould be nice if there was a depth of feeling, but to be honest with you, I am of a mind that he might learn to love the lass. I wish him to return home and stop all the rootless wandering and the other foolishness of his. ’Tis time he stopped wasting his life and took up the running of Dullinmuth. I am mindful that as the second son he never thought to do that, but circumstances with his older brother have changed. Rawly must do his duty as a Rawlings.”
****
Rawly swung his pick and pulled up a chunk of turf. He got on his knees and dug deep into the hole with his hands. The sun peeked out from behind a cloud and glinted on something in his hand.
The solitude of Ard Na Said was a welcome balm after his grandfather’s latest revelations. His head had been pounding when he went up to his room last night. He had barely slept and left Mrs. Miggin’s house before the dawn.
He sifted the soil through his fingers and then, unexpectedly, a tiny coin appeared. He ground the dirt from the face and squinted at it.
It was Roman.
He had returned again and again to Ard Na Said. After he had found the tiny mosaic, he had hoped he was on the right track.
That brought his mind back to his grandfather’s latest quest. He had learned long ago the best way to deal with Basil Rawlings was to let him pursue his goal with a fiery vigor that would soon burn itself out. Rawly had written to his brother, Bart, explaining the situation. It would not be long before Bart sent a letter to Basil, that earned forgiveness, if not understanding. Then Basil would pack up and return to the solitude of Dullinmuth and Rawly could continue his pursuit of the mystery.
“So the trick is to stay a bachelor until he tires of the game.”
He glanced up and saw a bit of sun peeking from behind a bank of heavy gray clouds. If he was going to make an appearance at the accursed afternoon tea, he would need to make haste to Mrs. Miggin’s house. He would have to wash, change his attire, and put a smile on his face.
“And pray that Grandfather’s scheme does not bear fruit this day,” he muttered to himself.
As he turned he caught a shimmer of the air on a small hillock nearby. For just the smallest breath of time, he thought he saw a man in traditional Roman dress. He blinked and it was gone.
“Foolishness,” he muttered. He had become so fixated on his quest he was now seeing Romans where ever he glanced.
****
Adorna stood back and admired the look of her parlor. Crosbie and Meg had worked all morning to make the pewter candlesticks shine. Every bit of furniture had been waxed and the room was softly scented of honey. Each wick had been trimmed neatly. Good smells were wafting up from the kitchen below where Cook was working her magic. A few early blooms had been cut and a nice spray of Toffy’s flowers were in a cut glass vase, one of Adorna’s treasures.
“’Tis bonny,” Basil said as he joined her in the doorway. “Yer home is cozy and warm. The lassies will be arriving soon, and I’m sure they will approve.” He smiled, and Adorna could not help but bask in his appreciation.
One by one the
young women did begin to arrive by carriage. They were pretty, three polished misses wishing to marry. Adorna was not quite sure how he managed to find them, and extend invitations, but he had. Basil was beaming when Rawly arrived downstairs, his hair still wet, his face scrubbed, his boots shined. Adorna knew that Meg, her maid of all work, had been waiting to snatch them up and black them while he dressed. The entire morning had moved along with the precision of a military exercise.
They were all soon seated in the parlor. The pretty girls sat stiff backed with the hands folded primly in their laps—waiting. For a moment the silence stretched, a bit uncomfortable and strained.
“Rawly, tell the lasses what you have been doing,” Basil prompted. They all turned expectant faces to the younger man.
“I was on Ard Na Said,” Rawly finally said.
“Oh, ’tis lovely. What were you doing?” One of the girls picked up the thread with polite conversational skill.
Adorna thought it was the daughter of the wool merchant who asked, but it could have been the tailor’s lass—they were much alike, young, comely, eager to please.
“I—I was searching.” Rawly frowned at Basil. Adorna wondered if she would finally learn the mystery of his daily pursuits. She found herself perched slightly forward on her seat, mimicking the girls as she waited for his answer.
“Oh.” The daughter of the spirit distiller said as she stirred her tea and took a dainty bite of a fresh scone. “Ard Na Said is lovely, but wild.”
“Goodness, Rawly,” Aunt Toffy said. “That sounds most mysterious. Whatever could you be doing there?” Toffy asked with a wicked rise of her brows.
“So if you are on Ard Na Said, searching as you say, you must be trying to prove King Arthur and his men are buried there,” the ginger-haired miss said with superior air.
“It doesna’ matter what he is searching for,” Basil interrupted impatiently and put a stop to the train of conversation. “When Rawly marries and returns to Dullinmuth, he will spend his days as husband and soon, if God be willing, a father. All he need do is agree—and ask for a maiden’s hand.”
Aunt Toffy and the Ghost Page 6
