by Amy Myers
‘Why go inside?’ she asked, now at ease. Why shouldn’t she dance under the stars for once, among these green and silent trees? ‘Don’t waltz us into the lily pond, though. It’s very close.’
‘I am excellent at avoiding obstacles.’ He was and they said little as they danced until the music stopped.
‘The supper must be cleared,’ she said, unexpectedly embarrassed and stepping back from him. ‘I should go now.’
‘And I too.’ He took her hand and kissed it. ‘Goodnight, Nell.’
FIFTEEN
‘Nell,’ Lady Clarice said with barely concealed excitement, ‘I sense it is upon us.’
‘The Gathering of the Ghosts?’ Nell asked. Lady Clarice had summoned her to her dressing room at breakfast time to make this pronouncement, and Nell’s hopes that Inspector Melbray would resolve the murder investigations before it happened seemed doomed. Instead he appeared to be in favour of the ghosts’ intervention. The inspector, Nell decided crossly, was an enigma that would puzzle Einstein himself.
‘I am certain of it,’ Lady Clarice replied earnestly. ‘There is a most exceptional cold area by one of the staircases to the gallery. I have been monitoring the temperature daily and it has already dropped significantly. I am now convinced that the gathering will be tomorrow evening and I have informed Inspector Melbray. Having failed to find the culprit himself, he is bowing to the superior power of the Wychbourne ghosts. He asked the most intelligent questions, however, and I was most impressed. Could ghosts leave their own particular locations in the house in order to commune with each other? he asked.’
‘And can they?’ Nell dared to venture.
Lady Clarice was only too eager to tell her. ‘There are many instances of ghosts moving either individually or in groups. Take the monks at Bilsington Priory, for example, and the group of Dickensian ladies and gentlemen at Cooling churchyard.’
Nell had another question. ‘The Wychbourne ghosts are from different ages. Would they mix?’
‘They will. It’s Monday, the twentieth of July, Nell, and there will be a full moon. The ghosts will be at their greatest strength. Tonight is too soon for the gathering but the energy they absorb must not be wasted. It will be tomorrow. I fully expect Elise to be reunited with Charles. He and his comrades have been strangely silent since her death. Charlie is waiting for her to join him.’
Nell decided not to comment. ‘Is Inspector Melbray definitely attending?’
‘Everyone concerned with this wretched affair must attend, he told me, including himself. He will inform Lady Warminster, her husband and for some reason her chauffeur, and Mr Ellimore too before he departs. Also, he wishes Miss Checkam, Mr Peters and Mrs Fielding to attend, and of course yourself. Even Mr Briggs. Lady Ansley will be informing them all. I do have to admit that it is a very strange world when chauffeurs, bandleaders and butlers are among the guests, but the ghosts, as well as Inspector Melbray, wish it to be so. Now, Nell, more importantly, we must discuss the menu.’
‘Menu?’ Jumping jellies, what was this?
‘One cannot merely provide a late-night supper of ham sandwiches for such a distinguished gathering,’ Lady Clarice explained.
‘Of course. For the family, General and Lady Warminster—’
‘I speak of the ghosts, not their audience,’ Lady Clarice said reprovingly.
The ghosts? ‘But ghosts can’t eat,’ Nell said cautiously.
‘Not physically. I am aware of that. But it is a well-known fact that ghosts display a great deal of interest in the food around them, particularly of food which they themselves were accustomed to enjoying in their earlier lives. They eat emotionally, Nell. The very best must be provided. It does them honour. It takes note of their feelings. They feel part of the life and soul of the house again. It draws them to us and us to them. No, Miss Drury, never overlook the power of food on such occasions.’
A ghost menu. Nell despaired. What in the name of pickled pollocks would that consist of? The nightmare of the Ghosts’ Gathering was bad enough without having to entertain them to supper. She must have a discreet word with Lady Ansley about it. Nell had only just managed to pull herself together when another disruption occurred.
A scream made her leap up from the kitchen table and with her staff again at a standstill she rushed into the scullery where Muriel, one of its two maids, was weeping with a broken plate at her feet.
‘It flew at me,’ she sobbed as Nell reached her.
Mrs Fielding had already appeared from nowhere and swept into action. ‘You’ll be dismissed for this, my girl. Sheer carelessness. That plate’s from the Wychbourne Service.’
‘I’ll look after her, Mrs Fielding,’ Nell said quietly. Kitchen servants fell within her domain, although Mrs Fielding stoutly refused to accept that.
‘China’s my responsibility,’ she snapped back.
‘I didn’t drop it. The plate just flew over me. It’s that ghost,’ Muriel sobbed.
Ghosts again. Nell sighed. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’
‘It happened yesterday too, only it was a saucepan then,’ Muriel said tearfully. ‘Flew right through the air from behind. It’s one of those poltergeists. They don’t like what’s going on in this house, Miss Drury, and that’s a fact.’
‘There must be some other explanation for it.’ Nell’s eye fell on Jimmy standing by the door into the kitchen yard. He was looking far too innocent but she had no time to sort it out now.
‘Jimmy,’ she said warningly, ‘you can take all this china back to Mr Peters’ room now.’
‘Jimmy’s Mr Peters’ responsibility,’ Mrs Fielding weighed in again.
‘Today he’s mine, aren’t you, Jimmy?’ Nell said meaningfully. ‘Sweep up the shards, get the china back to its proper place and then give Muriel a hand.’
When she at last reached Lady Ansley with the day’s menus, Lord Ansley was also present, which was unusual. Ghosts’ Gathering discussions, she presumed, or perhaps Inspector Melbray’s progress or otherwise with the case.
It proved to be the ghosts. Lord Ansley was as courteous as ever although clearly worried.
‘There seems to be something going on, Miss Drury, in this household but neither Her Ladyship nor I can determine what it is. We know about my sister’s plans for tomorrow night in the great hall and that ghosts are involved, but what exactly is it for? We aren’t hunting them again, I trust?’
Usually Lord Ansley would either avoid an obstacle or deal with it in his own way, so this was an extraordinary departure from normal times. Nell did her best. ‘Not quite. Lady Clarice is sure that the Wychbourne ghosts want to add their weight to the investigation. She senses they are dissatisfied with the police’s lack of progress.’ Putting this into words made the gathering seem even more ludicrous than it was, Nell feared.
Lord Ansley glanced at his wife. ‘We must attend then.’
‘Lady Clarice would like everyone who was here when Mr Parkyn-Wright was killed to attend tomorrow,’ Nell explained, feeling more wretched every moment. ‘Inspector Melbray is coming.’ At least that seemed to add a note of credibility to the situation.
‘He’ll think we’re all potty,’ Lord Ansley declared.
‘It’s his choice to come,’ Nell pointed out.
‘Knowing my sister is in charge?’
‘Yes.’ She saw another glance exchanged between the Ansleys.
Lord Ansley sighed. ‘Is Lady Warminster coming?’
‘I believe so. And her chauffeur. Also Lady Clarice,’ she added bravely, ‘would like you to invite Mr Peters, Miss Checkam and Mrs Fielding,’ Nell said. ‘And Mr Briggs too.’
‘Briggs?’ Lord Ansley looked horrified. ‘We’ll have to look after him, Gertrude.’
Now for the worst. Make this sound as normal as possible, Nell told herself. ‘Lady Clarice has also requested a special supper to be served there, one that would appeal emotionally to the ghosts. Would ten o’clock be suitable?’
‘Ask the ghosts.’ Lor
d Ansley managed a smile. ‘There seems to be no harm in granting her request, Miss Drury. By ten o’clock night should be falling fast, if not already with us, but let us hope that light is not far afield. Serve what my sister wishes provided it is manageable for you.’ He paused. ‘Could you by any chance tell us what the police are doing over these murders? My wife and I have very little idea save that investigations are proceeding and the inquest on Miss Harlington has also been adjourned. It seems unfair to ask you but we felt the servants’ hall might, as so often, know more than we ourselves. We do know about Peters and that the poor man was being blackmailed, but nothing further.’
‘We’re in the dark too,’ Nell said apologetically. ‘As the inspector’s cooperating with the Gathering of the Ghosts though, perhaps he expects something to come of it.’
‘That’s completely batty,’ Lady Ansley declared. ‘Harry Price’s investigations are well known but never have I heard of Scotland Yard making use of ghosts. What does Inspector Melbray hope will happen? That one of them will step forth and give him the answers?’
‘The ghosts would have to provide some tangible evidence too, if the inspector’s to be satisfied,’ Nell said gloomily. And that wasn’t going to happen.
‘Two murders at Wychbourne Court, Nell,’ Lady Ansley said despondently. ‘I would not have believed it possible. Clarice tried to reassure us by pointing out that we’ll be gaining two new ghosts in the family home. Set beside such tragedy and loss of life that seems out of place, to say the least. I take it, incidentally, that the inspector will want Lady Enid to be present as she was here that evening?’
‘And Mr Fontenoy,’ Nell murmured.
Lady Ansley groaned. ‘Another seating plan will be called for. I fear one of our children had a part to play in rearranging the last one. It won’t happen again.’
‘I’ll arrange a buffet supper,’ Nell said. ‘Seating could then be at small tables and guests may choose their own seats.’
‘Will the ghosts know where they are supposed to be sitting?’ Lord Ansley enquired.
Nell laughed but then wondered whether this was out of order. It might have been because he continued soberly, ‘What’s going to happen if nothing spectral occurs tomorrow night? Do we repeat this performance?’
Nell had no idea but decided to add a note of cheer. ‘I’ll plan my menu so that at least that pleases everyone, even if it adds nothing to the investigation.’
Her confidence stayed with her through the rest of the morning but mysteriously vanished when she was at last able to contemplate a menu for the ghosts. Inspiration failed to come and she walked through to the great hall, hoping its grandeur and silence would do the trick. Mr Peters was crossing the hall, but like an eerie ghost in black himself he did not even glance at her. She looked around her at the portraits, the closed doors, the heavy furniture smelling of lavender polish, and thought of all the people over the centuries who had passed through this hall and those who had attended great feasts by the roaring fires. Tomorrow all that would happen again, save that the feast would be supper and there would be no spit roasts, no ornate roast swans, no prime cutlets. After all, bones thrown casually over shoulders as of old might injure the ghosts.
Nell, she reproved herself, don’t mock them. Whether there were ‘real’ ghosts or not, those past Ansleys infiltrated the mind. Perhaps that’s what ghosts were. Memories of past people or events imprinted so vividly on the atmosphere or on one’s own mind that they attained a reality of their own. Tomorrow, however, Lady Clarice was convinced that ghosts of some sort would be gathering here, wherever their usual haunting locations.
At last, the idea for the ghost menu began to emerge and she—
‘Ah, Nell.’ Lady Clarice was almost running across the hall towards her. ‘Another word with you, please.’
‘The menu?’ Capering carrots, she had to hold fast to the idea in her mind before it vanished.
‘No, no, no. The poltergeist. How exciting. I’m told that one of the scullery maids has had an experience. How old is she?’
‘About fifteen, but—’ Nell didn’t have time to relay her suspicions.
‘That is splendid. Just the age for a girl to attract such manifestations. But it does mean that they are gathering. Do tell the young lady to take extra care tonight. Do not let her be alone in the scullery. She must be present tomorrow night, of course.’
Nell could see trouble ahead. Muriel would be terrified, even if she sat with Mrs Fielding. ‘Don’t—’
‘Let’s discuss the table arrangement, Nell. The girl must sit with my brother and mother.’
Ghosts or not, this would not work. It was an even bet as to whether the dowager or Muriel would faint with shock first. She had to speak out. ‘Lady Ansley has agreed to arrange separate tables where everyone can sit where they wish, and the supper itself will be a buffet. Some people may not wish to be close to the colder areas where the ghosts may congregate. Others might want to be next to them; others to move around to investigate phenomena.’
‘Oh, but I thought—’
‘It will work very well,’ Nell soothed her. ‘I’ll see to that. Now allow me to tell you about the menus I have planned.’ That idea of hers would have to be aired before it was fully fledged.
‘It must be the best food,’ Lady Clarice pleaded anxiously.
‘Certainly. Each ghost shall have his or her very own dish,’ Nell informed her, ‘so that each one recognizes the food they once enjoyed so much.’ She mentally crossed her fingers as she waited for the reaction.
Lady Clarice looked spellbound, fortunately. ‘How splendid,’ she breathed. Then a slight frown appeared on her brow. ‘How will they know which is their own dish? They might not recognize it if all the dishes are served together.’
Nell quickly improvised. ‘We will put large name cards on each buffet dish. Sir Thomas’s mawmenee, Violet’s junket or Lady Henrietta’s apple flummery, for example.’
‘I do believe,’ Lady Clarice said excitedly, ‘that they will enjoy that very much. What shall we eat, however?’
Nell silently groaned. She had been hoist with her own petard. She had no option but to take a risk. ‘The same dishes,’ she said, as if surprised that there could be any doubt.
Lady Clarice looked perplexed. ‘But we can’t take their food.’
‘We shall share it, just as we share the gathering with them,’ Nell explained. ‘That will be the spirit of the occasion. Sharing.’
For a moment it hung in the balance. ‘You are right,’ Lady Clarice declared. ‘How may I assist you?’
The worst was over. ‘I wouldn’t want any of the ghosts to be omitted by mistake. I have your earlier list but I would like another giving the ghosts’ usual haunting locations and the dates of their deaths so that I can research what their favourite dishes would have been.’
‘You shall have it. We’ll need the equipment again, of course.’
Nell foresaw chaos. Rapid response required here. ‘We need to record the evening for posterity, certainly,’ she said with an authority she did not feel. ‘Cameras, phonograph and notepads. Your thermometers, if you wish. But only a few. If more than one or two people move around we might disturb the ghosts’ consultations.’
At least she now had a plan for the buffet, although Nell still didn’t know what Lady Clarice imagined would happen tomorrow, nor why Inspector Melbray was so eager to join in.
Apparently, others thought differently. All the world and his wife seemed to think she was the fount of all knowledge not only about the murder but now about the Gathering of the Ghosts. Guy was the first intruder into her chef’s room, where she was busy studying recipes. Should these be completely true to the period the ghost lived in or just reflect their likely general tastes?
‘They said I’d find you in here, Nell. Enjoy the ball, did you?’ he greeted her.
‘Immensely. I always enjoy my work. How about you?’
‘Immensely. I enjoy mine too. Seriously, Nell,
I’m hoping you can tell us what Inspector Melbray’s up to.’
‘You said “us”. Your band?’
‘No, they’re going their own separate ways today and unless you change your mind about coming with me I shall do the same the day after tomorrow. The “us” is Foster and me. What’s going on?’
‘If you mean the murder cases, I don’t know. If it’s tomorrow night, I still don’t know, apart from the menu.’
‘Unusual for you, Nell. What happened to the Nell I-know-exactly-what’s-going-on-and-where-I’m-going?’
‘She got lost,’ Nell replied amiably.
‘I don’t believe you.’ Guy sat down. ‘Everyone’s drawn to you for answers like flies to flypaper.’
‘How elegant.’
‘Including that inspector.’
Dangerous ground. ‘I hear you’re coming tomorrow night.’
‘Yes, and also Foster. And, I gather, the general’s coming as well as his lovely lady wife.’
‘How kind General Warminster is,’ Nell remarked innocently.
Guy grinned. ‘He wouldn’t let her come alone. Her Ladyship didn’t want to come at all but it’s Scotland Yard’s order. Personally I think that fellow’s gone doolally, relying on ghosts to point him in the right direction. What does he hope to get out of it?’
‘It wasn’t the inspector’s idea,’ Nell pointed out. ‘It was Lady Clarice’s.’
‘Just humouring her, are we? I can’t believe Scotland Yard would waste its time with ghost shows otherwise. Even if you are the main attraction.’
‘My buffet, not me. I’m not one of the ghosts,’ Nell said crossly. ‘And nor do I see how the evening is going to help solve the case.’
‘I can’t wait to see if Charlie Parkyn-Wright appears to point the accusing finger.’
‘He probably will. Murdered ghosts are supposed to come back when their cases remain unsolved. Like Banquo’s ghost in Macbeth.’
‘Eh?’
‘The ghost appeared in the middle of the banquet to point the finger of guilt.’
