The Ghost of Emily Tapper

by Nita Round

  Still, she forced her trembling hands to finish the meal, and then she popped the crock-pot into the oven. “Now,” she said, whilst she thought she had the advantage. “I am going to get cleaned up for dinner, and it would be nice if the carpets didn’t move when I walk across them, no flashing lights, and I would like to avoid strangulation as well, if you don’t mind. I quite like breathing. All in all, it would be marvellous if you didn’t try to kill me in front of Emma. Deal?”

  But no one answered.

  “No matter,” she said aloud. “I have a better idea.” She opened the chilled white wine, half-filled two glasses, and put them on a tray. “Let’s see if Emma fancies a glass before dinner shall we?”

  MAGGIE STOOD OUTSIDE Emma’s door, her hand poised to knock. Was she being too forward? She shook her head. Life was too short to worry, and she expected hers to be shorter than most. She rapped on the wooden door with a degree of confidence she did not feel, and waited.

  Emma opened the door wearing nothing more than a dressing gown. “Maggie...”

  It took a moment for the heir of Durrant to speak. “I...er...brought wine. I thought it would be nice before dinner.”

  Emma looked thoughtful, and then she grinned. “My Lord Magwood...” Then she curtsied, but it looked awkward and strange as she used both hands to stop the dressing gown from falling open.

  Maggie blushed. “What? Who told you?”

  “Does it matter?” Emma said as she wrapped her gown about her body.

  “No one calls me Magwood.”

  “Everyone calls you Magwood.” She smiled. “They don’t seem so keen to see me, being a Tapper and all.”

  Maggie searched for something to say, but nothing would come to mind. Emma knew her name. She didn’t care, she couldn’t think. The thought of Emma wearing nothing but a dressing gown got her so flustered she could feel the heat burning her cheeks. The gown covered Emma from mid-thigh up, but flashes of pale skin, close, but not close enough, sent more than her heart rate to pounding levels.

  “Now don’t stand there, Maggie, you’ll spill my wine, and I don’t want you to waste any of it.”

  “Well.”

  “And when you come in here, you will sit down, and you will tell me all the things you haven’t mentioned yet.”

  “All of them?” she managed.

  “Yes. All of them.”

  Maggie drew her brows together and frowned. “You’re right Emma. Things are not straightforward.”

  “You sound so serious.”

  “I think I need more wine first,” Maggie said.

  “Come inside and talk to me.”

  Maggie stared into Emma’s eyes. “I better not. I have things to do before dinner.”

  “Are you trying to escape me?”

  “Yes,” Maggie agreed. “Will it work?”

  “No.”

  Maggie dragged her eyes away and stared down the corridor. “I think you need to get dressed and then we’ll talk.”

  “Dressed?” Emma echoed.

  “Yes, please. Then come down when you’re ready and we’ll talk as I cook. We’ll eat in the kitchen if you don’t mind, it’s cosier.”

  “Perfect,” she answered to Maggie’s seriousness.

  Chapter Fourteen

  MAGGIE STOOD IN the kitchen, staring at an open door. A chill wind blew from the dark depths, and she was worried.

  The sounds of Emma’s heels clicking on the stone flags brought her out of her reverie and before she could worry too much. “Hi,” Emma said. “What’s up?”

  Maggie turned around, and she plastered a smile on her face, even though it felt strained. “Did you open this door?”

  “No. Why would I?”

  “I don’t know. It’s the way down to the cellars, but we don’t use it any more. The steps are dangerous, missing in places, so it’s not safe.” Her smile was one of relief, “I was sure I locked it, but it was wide open.”

  “Well I haven’t fallen down the stairs if you were worried.”

  “I see, I should have warned you about the steps.”

  “I wouldn’t go around looking in places I have no right to be Maggie, so don’t worry.”

  “You can go wherever you please. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

  “You forgot to lock it, Maggie. That’s all.”

  Maggie shook her head, and as she locked the door, again, the door sighed. She tried not to focus on the coffin shaped scratch marks on the door. The points were too regular, too precise, and pointillism by knife was a new addition to the madness of the house. She hoped it didn’t spread to other doors or other rooms.

  “Maybe there’s a draft?” Emma suggested.

  “A draft with the power to open a locked door?”

  Emma shrugged. “Are you positive you locked it?”

  “Yes,” Maggie answered, although the door was open and the key was still on the hook on the wall next to the door. “At the other end of the cellar there is a drop chute for coal, perhaps it is broken and the draft comes from there.”

  “There you go.”

  “I’ll take a look down the cellar tomorrow.” She frowned. “Nothing I can do right now any way.”

  “Meanwhile there are more important things to worry about.”

  “What things would they be?”

  “This,” Emma waved her glass about, “seems to be a high degree of evaporation in this kitchen.”

  Maggie laughed and picked up her own empty glass. “Look at this, my glass also has an evaporation problem.”

  “It’s a damned nuisance if you ask me.”

  “Better do something about it. Red or white?”

  “Depends on what we’re eating I suppose.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not really, no. Sometimes different things need different wines, and you being a Lord, I better be on my best behaviour.”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t do what?”

  “Please don’t do things to please me. Be yourself and being you will please me most of all.”

  Emma paused. “All right. I will. Think I’ll stick to the white for the moment.”

  Maggie filled each glass with a good measure. “Better?”

  Emma nodded. “So then, you are my Lord Magwood.”

  Maggie rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  She served dinner before she answered. “My father wanted to call me Charles.”

  “A girl called Charles? You could have been called Charlie, it’s a girl’s name isn’t it?”

  “No to Charlie, it had to be Charles, but I think he was so mad at my mother for giving him a daughter when he wanted a son.”

  “But it’s not her fault.”

  “I know, I know. Male pride I suppose, but my mother wouldn’t have it and they had this huge argument. To assert his authority, he insisted I be called Magwood. I think it’s a great name, and when I went to school instead of being teased, they thought it was different and interesting. Being different was quite the thing, so I fell in with a good crowd and they shortened it to Maggie. The name has stuck ever since.”

  “What happened to your parents?” Emma asked. She didn’t want Maggie to know she had seen her at the cemetery.

  Maggie stared at her for a moment. “Dead,” she answered.

  “I’m so sorry Maggie.”

  “It’s all right. It happened a long time ago.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  Maggie shrugged. “Father died when I was a child, my brother younger still. My mother never got over his death and she hung on until I was sixteen and then she gave up on life.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emma repeated. “I should not pry.”

  “Why not? I would.”

  “And your brother?”

  “Charles Stephen.”

  “I haven’t seen him yet.”

  “No. He is off about town, Lording it up.”

  Emma quirk
ed one eyebrow, “And ‘Lording it up’ involves what exactly?”

  “Getting drunk I suppose. Getting a woman for the night. He’s very proud of such things.”

  “Men often are.”

  Maggie laughed, and the guilt of even mentioning her brother lessened.

  “Do you know the people in the town are very protective of you? They think you’re some kind of angel and I’m some sort of scarlet woman, or something, come to bring you down.”

  Maggie almost choked on her food.

  “So you agree, I am?”

  “Not at all. There’s a bit of a history between your family and mine. Country memory is like the land, it lasts for a long time, but you are new, and so they distrust you.”

  “Which leads me to the other question. Why were you waiting for me at the gatehouse?”

  Maggie deliberated her answer. On the one hand, she had promised to tell Emma everything, but how well did she know the woman? After all, she was a Tapper, no matter how attractive she was.

  “I was expecting you to arrive at some point and I was nosey.”

  “You said as much already, but it’s not much of an answer is it?” Emma rested her hand on Maggie’s. “Is it?”

  “I suppose not,” Maggie conceded.

  “There is something going on, but I don’t know what, and you’re reluctant to speak of it.” She looked at their hands, touching. “But I don’t want to ruin such a super evening.”

  Maggie didn’t say anything. What could she say?

  Emma pulled back her hand. “Anyway, it’s none of my business, I’m the stranger here after all.”

  “It’s not like that Emma.”

  “But it is. Isn’t it? I am the outsider in a small distrustful village. I wonder how long it will be before you trust me?”

  “Emma please, it is not so easy for me.”

  “I know, and I know it will take a long time for the village to trust me even if I stay.”

  “Will you? Stay in Castlecoombe?”

  “Truthfully? I don’t know. I haven’t seen what it is like to live here, and staying with you is very pleasant, but it’s not the same as living here. I thought I would get my house set up and move in whilst I decided what to do. I have to get it ready for sale anyway.”

  “But it’s not ready for you to live in yet.”

  Emma grinned. “I’ve tidied up quite a lot. I should concentrate on getting it all done. When I was cleaning upstairs I found one of the mattresses was new and wrapped in plastic. Once I work out how to do the fire and get some wood in, I think I’ll be quite cosy there.”

  “Are you not happy here, with me, in my house?” Maggie asked.

  “It’s not about being happy here Maggie. I need to get settled into my own place. I’ve imposed on your generosity more than I should.”

  “You don’t have to go, you know.”

  “Yes, I think I must.”

  “If it makes you happy?”

  Emma nodded.

  “Then I’ll do what I can to assist.”

  “Thank you. I would appreciate your help. You can show me how to light the fire for a start.”

  Maggie laughed, and the escalating tension vanished. “First thing in the morning, I’ll bring some things over to help you out.”

  “Thank you Maggie. I do like being here, with you.”

  Maggie looked up into Emma’s dark brown eyes, “You have the most amazing eyes you know. I could drown in them.”

  Taken aback, Emma rubbed Maggie’s arms. “I’m glad I have such an effect.”

  Maggie smiled then, “Good, and I love you being here. I’ve had such a wonderful time these last few days.”

  “Then we have to make sure we spend more time together.”

  “I would like that.”

  “So a second date it is?” Emma asked.

  “Yes. And soon.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  EMMA WAS NOT convinced about moving into her new house. In fact, she thought she was being damned stupid when a warm castle was available. Except she needed to put some distance between her and Maggie before she made a fool of herself. Funny, the look she got from Maggie suggested she felt the same too, but they knew so little about each other and there were things, important things, that loomed between them.

  Maggie was stunning, and intelligent with an appreciable sense of humour. All the things she liked in a person, and if that wasn’t enough to scare her half to death, she was rich and a Lord to boot. Therein lay her problem. It would have been easier if Maggie had been an ordinary woman, the poor and normal woman next door would have been ideal. Maggie was too nice to be a nasty part of a feud. It was all nonsense. It had to be.

  She was here now. Although it wasn’t as cold as it had been, and the warm sun shone through breaks in the clouds, inside the house it was cold, damp, and miserable. It had been empty for so long the whole fabric of the house seemed chilly and damp. Outside the diminished woodpile contained logs so sodden it would be useless for weeks. She had made progress around the house, and she supposed it was something at least.

  She was unloading some things from her car when she saw the police arrive. All flashing lights and blaring siren, they raced by the house and under the gatehouse. A few minutes later a second vehicle arrived at the same time as an ambulance, and both of them sped up the way to the Hall. Emma stepped outside, her intention to see Maggie foiled when a police van pulled up by the gatehouse and blocked the way.

  “Maggie,” Emma breathed, as she stormed to the gatehouse. The officer stood like a sentinel in the way of anyone who might try to get to the Hall and intercepted her path.

  “Sorry ma’am,” the officer said, his voice deep and hard. “You can’t be going up to the Hall right now.”

  “I don’t care! Is Maggie...Is Lord Durrant all right?” she asked. “What’s happened?”

  “I am sorry. I have no information at this time. Perhaps it would be better if you went home. I’m sure it will all be clear later.”

  Emma was not sure what to make of his comment, and when she turned around ready to walk to the house she saw her neighbours all standing around the green, watching her, as though she had done something wrong. She stared back, then walked to her house and ignored them all.

  “Well, what a fine way to make friends and influence people,” she said to herself, but she was too worried about Maggie to care.

  MAGGIE KNOCKED ON her door mid-afternoon, and when Emma opened it the woman who stood on her doorstep was not the same one she had seen at breakfast. “Oh love, are you all right?” she asked. “Come in. What happened? Are you hurt?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m not hurt in any way. I don’t know. It is all such a mess. I can’t believe this is happening.”

  Emma took Maggie’s hand and led her into the kitchen. “Come sit down. I’ll make you some tea. Have you eaten?”

  “I can’t eat anything at the moment. Tea would be wonderful though.”

  “Of course, come, take a seat.”

  The tall, confident woman she knew was gone. Slumped in the chair, her elbows on her knees, she looked as though her body was far too heavy to lift. Dull eyes looked out from beneath her fringe, and she stared, unseeing, at the floor. Still, lifeless, she was more statue than woman, and the baggy frayed sweat pants and shirt didn’t do her justice.

  “So what’s happened?” Emma urged. She placed two cups of tea on the kitchen table and sat opposite Maggie. “Tell me honey.”

  Maggie sighed. “They found... I found a body.”

  “What!”

  “In the cellar.”

  “How? Who?”

  “I don’t know. They think I killed him.”

  “Don’t be silly, there is no way they could think it was you.”

  “They do,” Maggie faltered.

  “How do you know? Have they arrested you? Cautioned you?”

  “No. But the two detectives, Tallins and Peters, are convinced of my guilt.”

  “They think no
thing of the sort. Not yet.”

  “There are strange things at the Hall, Emma, things you haven’t seen, and it looks odd.”

  “Honey, relax, you’re safe here.” She stood next to Maggie and hugged her so hard she wondered if she crushed the women. Tentative arms surrounded her waist and held on. “It will be all right. Do you want to talk about it?”

  “It was so awful,” Maggie whispered. “I went down the steps to see why the door kept opening and there was blood everywhere.” She shuddered as she spoke and snuggled closer. “The steps were broken, I knew they were, but still I slipped...on blood. His blood. His face was a mess...blood everywhere...all over the floor...all over me.”

  “It’s okay.”

  “They took my clothes.”

  “I think it’s procedure.” She kissed the top of Maggie’s head. “I saw an ambulance. I thought you were hurt.”

  “No, I’m fine. But they needed a paramedic or doctor to see if they could save him, the preservation of life and so on.” She shrugged. “There was no chance of that poor soul being alive so the doctor was able to pronounce life extinct. It sounds so cold, so technical when they say things in such a way.”

  “What happens next?”

  “I have no idea. They keep asking me questions.”

  “You poor soul,” Emma soothed. “Is there anything I can do?”

  It was a while before Maggie answered. “Can I stay here with you? The Hall is full of all those crime people, so I can’t be there right now. The police don’t know what to do with me, so I said I would stay here with you. I have nowhere to go. Is it all right?”

  “Of course it’s all right. You are always welcome here Maggie, you know that.”

  “I don’t need to be at the farm. Mr. Jackson has everything under control. I could maybe help you out round the house.”

  “Of course, sweetheart, you stay right here.”

  “I mean, I should have asked you first, before I told the police, but you were the first person I could think of.”

  “You can stay with me as long as you want.” She thought for a moment. Maggie needed distractions right now as the troubles of the day sank in. “I think you need things to do, so we’ll go to the store, get a sack of logs and whatever we need to get the fire going, and then you can show me what to do. How’s that for starters?”