Three Graces

by Victoria Connelly

  Carys smiled. ‘I’ll try and remember.’

  They sat and thought some more.

  ‘I once went on a ghost tour in Edinburgh where they had jumper-ooters,’ Carys said. ‘They were people planted along the route through the Old Town who would suddenly jump out on the poor unsuspecting tourists. It was quite funny really.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure that sounds very dignified,’ Georgiana said. ‘I cannot see myself doing that. I thought, perhaps, that I could waft through a few doors and maybe give a regal wave and a silvery laugh.’

  ‘That could work,’ Carys said. ‘But wouldn’t it be a bit obvious?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘People would get a good look at you if you did that. They’d know you were a ghost.’

  ‘Isn’t that the whole point?’

  Carys frowned. ‘I’m not sure. It might really freak people out. You know - give someone a heart-attack or something.’

  ‘Oh, I see what you mean. We’re talking law suits and what not.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Carys said. ‘This is meant to be raising money, not costing us.’

  ‘Maybe we should go for something a little more low key, then?’

  ‘Yes. Something more ambiguous. Where we keep the tourists guessing if you’re real or not. Maybe have you walking out of a door some way ahead of the tour - so that some people see you and others don’t but you’re too far away to prove anything.’

  Georgiana nodded. ‘I could still laugh, couldn’t I?’

  ‘I don’t see why not. I’m sure a little laugh could work.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to cackle or anything.’

  Carys could feel her face flushing with excitement. ‘This is such a great idea. I can’t believe we didn’t think of it sooner.’

  ‘If I’d known you were in trouble, I would have come along much earlier.’

  Carys was touched by this. ‘Would you? Would you really?’

  ‘Of course,’ Georgiana said. ‘There really is not much else for me to do. But I did want to give you time to settle in. I think it’s important that the women of this house have time to find their own space - their own way with things.’

  ‘But I don’t feel settled at all,’ Carys confessed. ‘It’s very strange. In some respects, I feel as if I’ve been here forever. When I’m outside, walking through the gardens and the woods or around the lake, I can’t imagine being anywhere else, and yet this new role of mine seems very strange still. I’m still discovering all sorts of things about the house and my duties.’

  ‘And that will never stop.’

  Carys smiled. ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘But this ghost tour idea will be such a great success for you, I can just feel it!’ Georgiana’s face was alight with wonder.

  ‘You think so?’

  Georgiana nodded enthusiastically and, at once, reminded Carys of Phoebe.

  Carys smiled. ‘I’m so glad you came,’ she said. ‘I think we’re going to have such fun together.’

  Chapter 21

  Carys and Georgiana spent most of Sunday shut away in the privacy of Cary’s office, plotting and planning their ghost tour.

  ‘We should make it rather exclusive, don’t you think?’ Carys asked.

  ‘Most definitely. If it is available to everyone at any time, it will be much less attractive.’

  ‘One a week, then?’

  Georgiana frowned. ‘Two. We want to make some money, don’t forget.’

  ‘How could I possibly forget about making money whilst living at Amberley?’

  Sitting at her desk, Carys jotted down some notes on a pad whilst Georgiana paced up and down the room in a restless way. Well, not exactly paced. She floated. She was a ghost, after all, and pacing was far too solid a pastime.

  ‘Five pounds per person?’

  ‘Five pounds!’ Georgiana shouted. ‘Five? I do believe five pounds does not get you very much nowadays.’

  ‘But ten pounds sounds so much,’ Carys said.

  ‘But you charge £7.50 for a tour of the house, anyway.’

  ‘That includes the garden,’ Carys pointed out, pleased that the new entry fee to Amberley had been increased at long last.

  ‘But a ghost tour, think about it. This is a personal tour around rooms not normally open to the public. It’s special. It’s a rare experience.’

  Carys smiled. ‘All right, then. Nine pounds. Doesn’t sound quite so off-putting.’

  ‘Believe me,’ Georgiana said, ‘if it sounds expensive, people will think it’s worth paying because they will expect something special. It is when things are too cheap that they start to become suspicious. I would suggest no less than fifteen pounds per person.’

  Carys nodded. ‘Okay, if you’re sure,’ Carys said, tapping her pen against her jaw. ‘Now, we need to decide a route through the house and what I’m actually going to say.’

  Georgiana looked at Carys in surprise. ‘So, you have decided to conduct the tours yourself?’

  ‘Well, not all of them, obviously, but Richard thinks I should start. It’s the best way to get to know the house and at least we can stage your appearances precisely.’

  ‘Yes. Do let us discuss that. Where do you want me?’ Georgiana asked, excitement bubbling inside her like an overfed cauldron.

  ‘I think we should start in the main entrance hall so we don’t need to worry about security issues with other entrances being used. We’ll probably do it in groups of twelve and move through to the drawing room and the tapestry room. Then -’

  ‘The corridor leading to the kitchens downstairs. We must have plenty of corridors and spooky, unused rooms.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that be rather dull?’

  ‘The duller the better. They will be more inclined to think that those places are haunted rather than the beautiful state rooms.’

  ‘And are they? I mean, do you prefer them to the more beautiful rooms?’

  Georgiana looked horrified. ‘Gracious, no. I wouldn’t be caught dead in those places. But people always love corridors. I think it must be that feeling of anticipation,’ Georgiana added.

  ‘I think you’re right. We could take them along that one that leads to the cloakroom full of old chairs. That always gives me the creeps.’

  ‘Oh, this really is so exciting! When do you think we can start?’

  Carys looked up from her notes. ‘Well, we’ll have to get some sort of souvenir guide book, I suppose.’

  ‘Absolutely. Tourists love to take something away with them. But keep it cheap. With a few photographs of the house and my portrait, of course.’

  Carys wondered if she could really keep such a venture cheap. ‘I guess it will make us more money in the long run. We’ll have to advertise too. It’s going to take such a long time. Do you think we can cram it all into a month to cash in on the summer tourists?’

  Georgiana nodded. ‘I have every faith in you. And a month should give me time to get a new dress sorted out.’

  For a moment, Carys looked startled. ‘A new old dress?’

  ‘There is no need to be alarmed. I won’t turn up wearing Versace if that is what you’re worried about.’

  Carys smiled, trying to imagine Georgiana in a sexy black number with plunging neckline and diamante straps.

  They spent the rest of the day discussing their ghost tour.

  ‘Are we going to allow people to take photographs?’

  ‘Certainly not. We want that element of doubt, don’t we?’

  ‘What do we do if they actually ask if you’re real or not?’

  ‘We tell them the truth, of course.’

  And then they explored the house together, searching for spooky passageways and rooms that looked as if they might be haunted.

  ‘I can’t believe Amberley’s kitchens have never been open to the public before,’ Carys said as they descended to the very bowels of the house. ‘These rooms are amazing.’ Cary’s shoes echoed across the great expanse of stone flags. ‘Look at
this fireplace. It’s enormous.’

  ‘My goodness!’ Georgiana exclaimed. ‘Is that old table still here?’

  Carys looked across at a gigantic slab of wood which stood in the centre of the room. ‘How old is it?’

  ‘Older than me,’ Georgiana said. ‘I cannot be sure of its date but it was here when I was alive.’

  Carys ran her hand over the rough surface. ‘Imagine baking on this. Imagine the meals that must have been prepared here.’

  ‘Imagine the hours you would have worked. It was no fun living downstairs, let me tell you.’

  ‘No, I don’t suppose it was.’

  ‘You may sometimes complain about being the lady of the manor but it is far better a position than scullery maid.’

  Carys smiled. ‘The kitchen we have now seems so different - space-aged compared to this.’

  ‘Everything hums.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘All those bits of equipment. Have you not noticed? Everything hums. It is very noisy.’

  ‘I hadn’t really noticed, no.’

  ‘Awful interference when one is trying to materialize. Computers are the same. I do hope you are not really considering placing a computer in my sitting room,’ Georgiana said.

  ‘You sound just like Francesca. She never wanted one either but it’s the way forward, I’m afraid. I’ll try and find a quiet one, though’ Carys assured her. ‘Now, how can we use this room?’

  ‘Well, you could tell tourists that strange noises have been reported from this part of the house and that it is not often used.’

  Carys nodded. ‘We can tidy it up a bit but still leave that air of neglect. It’s so wonderfully echoey in here. It’s going to be easy to believe in ghosts in this part of the house.’

  ‘But you believe in ghosts now, surely?’ Georgiana gave Carys a mocking little smile which made Carys frown.

  ‘I believe in you,’ she said slowly, smiling at the shimmering blue form of Georgiana.

  ‘But nobody else? You don’t believe in ghosts in general?’

  All of a sudden, Carys felt very confused. She was getting so used to Georgiana’s presence that she’d stopped thinking of her as a ghost. She was a friend. ‘I - really don’t know…’

  ‘Would you like me to introduce you to some of my friends?’

  ‘Oh, gracious - no,’ Carys panicked.

  Georgiana laughed heartily. ‘You should see your face. Oh, what a picture!’

  ‘You won’t, will you?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Bring anyone else here. You know - dead people.’

  ‘My dear sweet Carys. Amberley is my haunt. I would never allow another ghost here so there is no need to worry. Although, I have to say that it would make the ghost tour rather wonderful, do you not think?’

  ‘NO!’ Carys wailed. ‘I do not think. I mean, don’t!’

  ‘We could have Old Tilly banging windows in the passageway, Lord Brumley floating up and down the stairs, and the Countess of Stalford could send a shiver down the tourists’ spines by tickling them when they are not looking. What a scream it would be.’ Georgiana looked absolutely delighted with her idea.

  ‘I think it would be dreadful. One ghost is all I can handle so let’s leave things as they are. Now, let’s get back upstairs,’ Carys said shivering. ‘It’s so cold down here, it’s like standing at the bottom of the ocean.’

  ‘Makes absolutely no difference to me,’ Georgiana said.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Temperature means very little when you pass over which is rather glorious really because you can wear anything you want to. It’s probably the reason ghosts frequent old houses so often - they don’t feel the cold like you mortals.’

  Carys shook her head. She never ceased to be amazed by what she could learn from Georgiana.

  There was no need to mention Georgiana’s involvement, of course, but Carys still asked Richard’s permission.

  ‘A ghost tour? What do you want to do that for? I’m not sure I like the idea of that at all.’

  ‘But it will bring in the tourists. I was thinking of fifteen pounds a head.’

  He pursed his lips together. ‘Good idea,’ he said.

  It all came down to money. If money could be made, bad taste could be conveniently forgotten.

  Everything, it seemed, was going swimmingly. Carys had a worthy job to do, she was making the most of living in a haunted house - in fact, she kept thinking that she must ring Lara Claridge to tell her that she’d been right all along and that ghosts could make the most marvellous of friends - and Richard actually seemed to be proud of her. He even made time for her on Sunday evening and, after a light dinner with the girls, they took a stroll around the garden with the dogs. The evening light gave everything an amber glow and the scent of roses perfumed the air. It was the kind of evening you dreamt of in deepest winter when dampness and darkness were merciless jailers.

  For a while, they walked arm in arm, happy to follow the haphazard route of the dogs and then Carys had an idea.

  ‘Let’s go to the walled garden,’ she said. Richard nodded.

  Entering the archway covered in the yellow roses which had been Henry Bretton’s favourite, they looked around at the bare borders and empty beds.

  ‘It’s not much to look at, I’m afraid,’ Richard said.

  ‘But it could be. It could be the loveliest garden.’

  Richard said nothing.

  ‘I think we should throw some money at it, don’t you?’ Carys said in a quiet voice, immediately regretting using the word, throw, knowing Richard would pick up on it.

  ‘Throw! It would be throwing money away at the moment.’

  Damn, Carys thought. ‘But it wouldn’t. It would bring the tourists in. A walled garden is always special. We could feature it in our advertising. We could even sell the produce grown here.’

  Richard’s eyebrows rose. ‘Produce?’

  ‘Yes. Ash and I have been talking about what we could grow here. We could have apples and pears and plums, great fat cabbages and beans and peas for the kitchen and herbs too. Just imagine.’ She sighed, dreaming of borders of fresh chives, fennel and rosemary. ‘It wouldn’t take much more work - another part-time gardener perhaps-’

  ‘Another salary to pay.’

  Carys sighed. ‘You always look on the negative side.’

  ‘The realistic side,’ Richard countered.

  Carys realised this wasn’t going well. ‘But this garden is special. It’s where we met,’ she said, stopping and squeezing his hand, determined that she was going to work her magic on him.

  He smiled. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I hadn’t forgotten, you know.’

  ‘Well,’ Carys said, ‘I sometimes wonder.’

  Richard brought her hand to his mouth and gave it the most tender of kisses. ‘I remember walking into the garden and hearing Dizzy being greeted by the happiest of voices - a voice I didn’t dare hope to recognise. I remember seeing you standing there, looking so shy, your cheeks burning scarlet as I approached. And I remember wanting to kiss you.’

  Carys’s eyes widened.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘I wanted to kiss you there and then and I knew that I would ask you to marry me.’

  ‘You did?’

  Richard nodded. ‘What else could I do? I’d fallen madly in love with you the moment I saw you.’

  Carys laughed.

  ‘What?’ Richard frowned. ‘You don’t believe me?’

  ‘I’m not sure what to believe.’

  ‘You’ve never driven a man crazy with desire before?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘Then what is it?’ he asked. ‘You’ve gone all shy on me.’

  And she had. She could feel herself blushing. She’d barely seen her husband even to speak to over the last few months and his undivided and amorous attention now was deliciously embarrassing. So she did what any self-respecting wanton wife would do. She kissed him.

  ‘That was nice,’ he whispered
when they surfaced some moments later.

  Carys nodded. And, as much as she’d have liked it to continue, she couldn’t shake the subject of the walled garden out of her mind. She was truly turning into a Bretton, she thought. She was putting Amberley before the people who lived there. But, she reasoned with herself, she might not get another chance to raise this subject with Richard for months.

  ‘I think we really should do something about this garden,’ she dared to say in a voice barely above a whisper.

  At first, Richard didn’t say anything. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said at last and, for one wonderful moment, Carys thought she’d won. ‘But not for the next three or four years at least.’

  Her smile vanished and was quickly replaced with a frown. Three to four years! That seemed a lifetime away. ‘But I thought the money from the new ghost tour-’

  ‘If you make any money at all from that then, by all means, spend it on this garden.’

  ‘You mean it?’

  He nodded. ‘But don’t build your hopes up. I don’t think anybody will be interested.’

  Chapter 22

  Despite Richard having no faith whatsoever in the success of Cary’s ghost tour, they spent the rest of the evening together without so much as a glance at a clock which was nigh on impossible in Amberley because there were more clocks than residents. Instead, they shared a long hot bath and had an early night. Richard even let Carys light a few candles in the bedroom.

  ‘Not many now. I’m not setting my own house on fire.’

  ‘But they’re just little tea-lights - look!’ Carys had pleaded with him in the past.

  They looked so pretty now, winking and twinkling in their cranberry red glasses, turning the room into a magical place. And so they dismissed the very slight possibility of turning Amberley into a pyre, they forgot about the piles of papers in their offices, and they forgot about death duties. They even managed to forget to close their curtains before getting undressed but it really didn’t matter. They were on the second floor of a house surrounded by fields and trees. It would take one seriously devoted Peeping Tom to catch them.

  They’d also left the window open and the cool summer night breeze whispered into the bedroom, sending goose pimples dancing across their skin but they kept each other warm with their kisses and, when they finally closed their eyes, much much later that night, they slept the sleep of the sated.