by Cate Dean
“Nora Mulgrew,” Maggie whispered. “I remember Aunt Irene telling me about her. She died in childbirth, in—March, 1830.”
“And she was most likely the one person who knew where the journal, and the evidence, had been hidden. My guess is that she was also the trusted friend who took in Amelia.”
They both looked up at the ghost, who stood in the middle of the library, her chin lifted, and her hands clenched.
“Give me a moment,” Martin said, pulling out his phone. “I can tell you what did happen to Jacob. And Amelia, if you would like to know.”
Anthea nodded, watching him as he tapped the screen.
Martin scrolled, tapped again, and lifted his head. “You were not the only one to suspect him, Anthea. Months after your death, Jeremy’s body was found. Jacob was arrested, tried for Jeremy’s murder, and hanged.”
She closed her eyes, and the grief that had seemed part of her since the first time Maggie saw her slipped away.
Martin tapped a bit more, and a smile lit his face. “Amelia Cragmoor, who kept her name, even after marriage, became a suffragette, and fought for the rights of women of every station.” He looked at Anthea. “Your daughter was a strong woman, who cared about others.”
Anthea floated toward him, brushing her fingers over his wrist. What looked like tears brightened her eyes.
Maggie stood, reaching her hand out. “I would like to bury your remains, if that’s all right. We can find where Jeremy was buried, and you can join him.”
“According to the same article, he is in the family graveyard,” Martin said. “Up on the hill.”
Anthea turned, and winked out of sight.
Shivering, Maggie hugged herself, letting the tears she fought slide down her cheeks. Martin wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her in, kissing the top of her head.
“She will be at peace soon, love. That is your doing.”
“I want to have a proper service for her, Martin.”
“Of course.”
With a sigh, Maggie closed her eyes. “I suppose we won’t see her again, once her body is buried.”
“Highly unlikely. She was a restless spirit, and you have given her the closure she sought.”
“I never thought I’d say this about a ghost, but I’m going to miss her.”
“So will I, love.”
They waited for Anthea to return. When she didn’t, they pulled on their coats, Maggie helping Martin with his, and made their way up to the small graveyard on a hill behind the manor.
An icy handprint marked Jeremy’s marble headstone, but Anthea was already gone.
“He was a good man, wasn’t he?”
Martin rubbed her arm. “From what I read, yes, he was. He loved Anthea, married her despite his family’s outrage. If he had lived, I’m sure they would have made a life together. If not here, then somewhere they would have been accepted.”
“I like that.” She looked out over the land that now belonged to her. Land that would be transformed, made into a place where joy would replace the sorrow. “Let’s go home.”
The cats waited for them next to the Rover, their eyes shining in the moonlight.
Laughing, Maggie picked up Sheba, and opened the driver’s door. The cat padded across the seat, tail in the air, and settled in the middle of the passenger seat. “I think she just called shotgun.”
Martin smiled, and slid into the car. After she closed the door, Maggie looked down at Manny, hands on her hips. “Are you coming?”
He meowed, and leapt into the back seat after she opened the door. The second she settled herself, he crawled into her lap, curled in a ball, and started purring.
Smiling, she smoothed her hand over his silky fur, and watched the moon rise as they drove home. Life did throw the odd curveball.
She couldn’t wait to see how well she handled this one.
Fifteen
They buried Anthea next to Jeremy, under the marble headstone that would soon have her name alongside his.
Maggie held a bouquet of wildflowers, wearing the only black dress she owned, under her bright blue coat. The wind blew her hair around her face as she listened to the minister who had married them bless the woman who had tried to live a good life—one that had been cut short by jealousy and greed.
“Be at peace, Anthea,” she whispered.
When the minister finished, Maggie set the wildflowers on the fresh grave, resting her hand on the headstone. Martin joined her, and laid his hand over hers. Other locals had attended, probably out of curiosity, but Spencer, Grace, and Lilly all stood behind her, offering support and friendship.
Maggie felt like the luckiest woman in the world.
Everyone present had been invited to Maggie and Martin’s for an informal dinner. Only Enid and Patrick joined the others, and Henry Manning surprised her by making an appearance, just before they sat down to eat.
“Thank you, for attending Anthea’s service. It meant so much to me, and I know it meant the world to her.” She smiled at Patrick. “Some of you probably didn’t believe that she was real, but Anthea has been haunting The Ash Leaf, and this house, for as long as the older locals can remember. I didn’t see her until I made Holmestead my home, though my Aunt Irene talked to her.”
“We thought she was batty,” Spencer said. Grace smacked his arm, and everyone in the dining room laughed.
“Eat,” Maggie said. “And feel free to wander around. I know some of you have never been here before.”
She glanced at Enid, who raised her wine glass. Aunt Irene had never been fond of her, and Maggie knew the feeling had been mutual. But Enid had changed over the last months, and Maggie was happy to welcome her.
The meal stretched out, everyone sharing stories, laughing, and enjoying each other’s company. Martin took Maggie’s hand, leaning over to kiss her cheek.
“You did a good thing today, Mrs. Martin.”
She looked around the table. More than one good thing had happened today; she hoped that the tentative friendships created tonight would last. That the man who had once been the village hermit would wave at the handyman he laughed with now. That the woman who had pursed her lips at Maggie from the second Maggie had taken over The Ash Leaf would greet the young couple with the same smile.
It was something worth hoping for.
***
The next month passed without incident, and as Valentine’s Day approached, Maggie was busy trying to help men, who had no idea what they wanted, choose gifts for their valentine.
Maggie was ushering the last of her customers out when Martin showed up, his dark, wavy hair tousled from the wind.
“Come inside,” she said. “You look like you’re freezing.”
“Close to.” He followed her into the shop, waving at Ashton. “Looks like you had a busy day.”
“Tomorrow will be busier. Men are the worst for last minute scrambling.” She smiled when he snorted, and helped him out of his coat, pointing him toward the wood stove. His shoulder had healed up nicely, but she knew it would stiffen on him if he spent too much time in the cold. “I just brewed some tea.”
“Perfect.” He stood in front of the stove, rubbing his hands together. When Maggie handed him the mug, he kissed her, then sipped at the fragrant tea. “Just what I needed. Thank you, love.”
“The deposits are done, Maggie.” Ashton handed over the bank bag, smiling hopefully.
“Get out of here. I know you have a date.”
He saluted, then headed for the front door, locking it after him. Maggie had plans to create a separate entrance for the flat, since it looked like she would have a long-term renter. She set the alarm, then headed over to Martin.
“What are your plans tonight, Mr. Martin?”
“I had hopes of spending the evening with my wife, over a candlelit meal at The Anchor.”
“Sounds perfect. It also sounds like what we should be doing tomorrow night.”
“If you don’t mind,” he pulled a small box out of hi
s jacket pocket. “I would like to celebrate Valentine’s Day tonight, and avoid the crowds.”
She laughed, shaking her head. “Great minds. Stay here.” She leaned over the front counter, and grabbed the small package she’d tucked under there this morning. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”
They exchanged gifts, and Martin gestured for Maggie to go first. She opened the box, and her eyes widened.
“Martin...” A beautiful sapphire brooch sat on the black velvet. A brooch she recognized. “This is the one Anthea wore in her painting.” The restoration crew had found the painting, in a corner of the vast attic, at the manor.
“I did some research. Jacob sold everything he could get his hands on. He learned after he killed Anthea that she had changed her will, adding the stipulation that held for generations. He would never be able to touch any of the Cragmoor money.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. It meant so much to her that Martin had gone to the trouble of finding a piece of her history. “Open yours.”
He tore off the paper, frowning at her when he saw the pen box. “What—”
“Keep going.” She could hardly contain her smile.
He opened the box, and stared at the contents. “Maggie—you didn’t—”
“I did.” She watched him pull out the small statue of Ra, reading the note that she had attached to the front. Again. “When you’re ready, we are going to Egypt. I want to see it through your eyes—”
He yanked her into his arms, cutting off anything else she might have said. She let out her breath, relief spreading through her. She had been half afraid he wouldn’t accept such a generous gift, that he would feel like his own gift didn’t matter as much. She could afford to take the entire village on a round-the-world trip, every year.
“Thank you,” he whispered. When he finally eased his embrace, she saw the emotion in his grey blue eyes. “I have not been back since I started teaching.”
“I want to meet your friends, visit your favorite places, find some of my own favorite places.”
He kissed her, and she held on, thrilled that he took the gift in the spirit she meant. For the pleasure of it, the adventure of seeing a place he had grown up loving. A place that had helped create the man she knew, and loved more than she ever thought she could.
“I can hardly believe it,” he said, touching the small, beautiful statue. Maggie had found Ra during their honeymoon, and it had been an effort to keep him from finding it.
“I’m glad I can do this for you. That we can see Egypt together.”
He kissed her again, then gently set Ra on the front counter. “Give me the brooch.”
She handed it to him, held still while he pinned it to the collar of her blouse. Then she ran over to the closest mirror, and admired it.
“I love it. Thank you for all the effort I know it took to find the brooch.” She touched the sapphire in the center, and turned to him. “I’m starving. Are you ready to take me to my Valentine’s Day dinner, Mr. Martin?”
“I am, Mrs. Martin.” He took her Kelly green coat off the rack, and held it out for her, wrapping his arms around her from behind after she slipped into it. “I love you, so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
He burst out laughing as he grabbed his coat and pulled it on. “Always surprising me, Maggie.”
“I never plan to stop.”
“Good.”
He took her hand, and they walked toward the door.
“Martin?”
“Yes, love?”
She smiled, warmth spreading through her, like it did every time he used the endearment. “Happy early Valentine’s Day.”
He waited until she did her normal closing routine, then led her outside and took the keys from her, locking the door.
“I never understood the meaning of this day, or what all the fuss was about, until I met you. Be my valentine, Maggie.”
“Always, Martin.”
In the doorway of her shop, in front of anyone who happened to look her way, he kissed her.
~ ~ * ~ ~
Thank you for joining Maggie and Martin as they solved their latest mystery! Way of the Witch, the next Maggie Mulgrew Mystery, will be coming your way this summer.
If you enjoyed Dancing on her Grave, I would love it if you took a moment and left a review. They are so important, and help other readers discover the books they want to read. Thank you!
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List of British Slang
Here is a list of words, proving that English and American are two different languages. You will find some of them in Dancing on her Grave, and I guarantee more will appear in future Maggie Mulgrew Mysteries. Enjoy!
Daily life
advert - advertisement, commercial
anticlockwise - counterclockwise
bank holiday - legal holiday
barrister - lawyer who represents you in court
Beefeater - nickname for the Yeoman Warders at the Tower of London
bobby/The Bill - a policeman
cashpoint machine - ATM, cashpoint for short
cheers - goodbye, thank you, also a toast
concession - discounted admission
dear - expensive
fancy - to be attracted to someone - I really fancy her!
football - soccer
fortnight - a contraction of fourteen nights, or 2 weeks
fringe - hair bangs
half eight - 8:30 - think half past (insert hour) and it will be a breeze to remember
holiday - vacation
interval - intermission (in theatres)
jumble sale - rummage sale, usually for charity
left luggage - place to check luggage for the day, replaces luggage lockers
lift - the elevator
loo - the toilet - ask for the bathroom only if you want a bath
mate - your friend
naught/nought - nothing
on offer - for sale
pavement - the sidewalk
pillar box/letter box - public mailbox (look like short red pillars, hence the name!)
Police Constable/PC - police officer
power point - electric wall socket
queue - line
queue up - line up
Remembrance Day - Veteran’s Day
ring/ring up - call on the phone
ring off/rang off – hang up or end phone call
self-catering - rental accommodations, a flat or house that is rented by the week
solicitor - lawyer who deals with clients, and does the office work for the barrister
stone - 14 pounds in weight
ta - thank you
tick - check mark
toilet - just what it says
top up - refill – also refers to adding minutes to pay as you go mobiles
Vice-Chancellor - administration at university
WC - short for water closet - just another name for the loo or toilet
wee - small
zed - the letter Z
Everyday items
bin - a trash can
biro - a ballpoint pen
braces - suspenders
brolly - an umbrella
clingfilm - saran wrap or plastic wrap
cooker - the stove
cotton buds - Q-tips
cozzy - a bathing suit
draughts - checkers
dummy - a pacifier
duvet - a comforter, with removable cover - often it will replace the top sheet on your bed
flannel - a washcloth
fag - a cigarette
fiver - £5 note
hob - the stove burner
hoover - the vacuum cleaner
jersey/jumper/pullover - a sweater
knickers - ladies’ panties
>
ladybird - a ladybug
mac - a mackintosh raincoat, can also be generic for a raincoat - rain mac
mobile - a cell phone
moggie - a cat
nappy - a diaper - not a napkin
pants - underwear, briefs
plaster/sticking plaster - a Band aid
pound note - a dollar bill
quid - another name for a pound note
rubber - an eraser, not the other kind of rubber
Sellotape/sticky tape - Scotch tape
serviette - a napkin
skip - a dumpster
smalls - underwear
spanner - a wrench
surgical spirit - rubbing alcohol
suspenders - garters, as in the kind that hold up stockings, not your trousers
telly - the tv
tenner - £10 note, or ten pounds
tights - pantyhose, any type
tin - a can
torch - a flashlight
trainers - sneakers or tennis shoes
trousers - pants, slacks
Wellingtons/wellies - rubber boots, rain boots
English food
afters - dessert
aubergine - eggplant
banger - sausage
bangers and mash - sausage and mashed potatoes
bap - a soft, round, floured roll
beetroot - beet
bill - your restaurant check
biscuit - cookie - and to confuse you further, biscuit can also refer to crackers, as in biscuits for cheese
bitter - dark ales served a little below room temperature - order beer and this is what you will get
black pudding - sausage made from cooking animal blood with filler until congealed
bubble and squeak - pan fried potatoes and cabbage (other veg can also be used)
Cadbury - creamy, delicious chocolate in loads of different flavors - if you have had Cadbury in America, it is nothing like this
candyfloss - cotton candy - just as sticky, just as tooth-achingly sweet
chicory - endive
chips - French fries
cider - fermented apple juice - and quite potent!
clotted cream - thick, incredibly delicious cream to spread on scones, or served with cake
coriander - cilantro
