"I see him clearly now," Madame Sianna continued, unaware or ignoring the distress Mary clearly signaled. "He is a handsome man. Warlike. Savage, but handsome. Dark of hair and light of eye, he bears a small scar on his right temple. It is the mark of a childhood game with a friend. That scar no longer troubles him. Something much deeper eats away at his soul. Now he is unable to rest because of his heart. His love. They have been separated! The woman he loves…There is danger!"
William's eyes locked with Mary's and, with a look, he urged her to remain still. He— and Clarissa, Darren, and Chancey, at least— knew that the medium was perfectly describing the legends of Slaytor. He could imagine what it sounded like to Mary. Especially with his own unexplainable "attacks." But he wanted to see how far Madame Sianna would take her little charade.
Mary studied William's eyes. He was calm, in control. The pressure of his fingers on hers let her know he did not want her to interfere in the séance. So be it. She wasn't afraid of ghoulies or shades— only of hurting William. If he was content with the proceedings, then she would remain silent.
"A cold wind blows from the past," Madame Sianna was saying. "Such anguish. Such anger." Her own voice was twisted with emotion. "This man has the force to reach across the centuries to touch us here and now. He does not need my aid to return to this world. He comes and goes at will. He seeks an answer, and his quest gives him strength. He seeks…"
Sophie rose slowly to her feet, but her hands never left the table. "I hear you," she said softly.
Across the room, Familiar sprang up, his back arched and his fur standing on end. Mary watched in horror as her friend turned to the closed door.
"I hear you." Sophie tried to go forward, but Mary held her wrist and Dr. Sloan grabbed the other one.
Before Mary could make a move to halt the séance, the door creaked open. "Lisette, where are you?" the voice was thick with brogue and laced with anger. "Lisette, where is the ring?"
"I'm coming." Sophie struggled to free herself of Mary's grasp.
"Stop it!" Mary's words were directed at Sophie, but they were also appropriate for the séance. "This has gone far enough." She shook free of William and put both hands on Sophie's shoulders. With a quick motion, she shook her friend, and then very calmly slapped her across the face.
"Oh!" Sophie's shock was complete. "Mary, what was that for?"
"Keep her here," William directed as he sprang from the table and ran to the door that was only slightly ajar. "I'm going to find whoever is in this house, and he is going to pay a handsome price for this prank."
Mary wanted to go with William. She couldn't, though; she had her hands full with Sophie, who was sobbing uncontrollably. To her relief, Familiar darted after him.
"What was I doing?" Sophie asked again and again. "What was I thinking? I could hear myself, but it was almost as if I had no control of my own thoughts and certainly not my actions. This place is haunted. You can deny it till the cows come home, Mary Muir. No matter what you say, Mayfair is haunted, and by the very devil himself."
Mary pushed her friend into a chair. "Blow out those candles and turn on the lights. We've had enough of this."
"I quite agree." Emelda Daugherty's support was unexpected. She pushed back her chair and went to the light switch. "This was in poor taste, Clarissa. Very poor taste. I hold you responsible for this foolish night," she rattled on as she blew out all the candles.
Mary turned to confront Madame Sianna, who was sitting placidly at the table.
"You may find this amusing, but you've frightened my friend. Whoever you brought along with you to play the ghostly voice of Slaytor, William will find him, and I wouldn't be surprised if he didn't press charges against both of you."
Madame Sianna's eyes were deep and sharp. "Mayfair is haunted, Ms. Muir. My advice is to get your friend and your things and get out of here as quickly as possible. Take William with you and don't let him return. The spirit I saw wants your fiancé. He wants his life, his body." She leaned forward, her voice almost a hiss. "His very soul."
"Get out." Mary felt a sudden fury. "You won't frighten me or William. I don't know what's behind all of this, but it's a hoax."
"The spirit world is no hoax. Guard yourself if you choose to stay here. But you can't protect William if he stays. You will lose him as he falls more and more under the spell of his ancestor. I've asked for no money here, nor would I take any. My advice is free. Heed it, or suffer." She picked up her bag. "I'd like to leave this place, Clarissa. I'm raw from exposure to this spirit. Raw and bleeding. That seems to be what Slaytor MacEachern constantly leaves behind him, brutalized people."
"Darren," Clarissa interjected. "Get Sianna's things. We should be going right away."
"I think I'd like to stay. William might need…my help." Darren stared at his mother.
For a split second she hesitated. "If you're ever to get anything you want, Darren, it would be best if you listened to your mother. Perhaps you can come back later and help William." Her smile held no sweetness.
"Whatever you say, Mother." He stepped away from her and began to gather the psychic's bags and candles.
"Mary, see if you can find William." Dr. Sloan's voice was calm but commanding as he put his hands on Sophie's shoulders.
"Yes, dear. He looked distraught," Mrs. Daugherty said as she assisted Dr. Sloan. "Find him."
Mary rushed into the hallway, but there was no trace of William or Familiar. A sense of loss and despair made her want to strike out. If William was out in the night again, she would find him. There had been no sign that he was having an episode, but there was no way to tell what had happened to him since he'd left the turret room.
As she turned the corner and started down the stairs, she almost ran into Abby and John Connery. Kevin was behind them.
"What's wrong?" Abby asked.
"There's no time." Mary tried her best not to sound panicked. "Would you see the guests out, and make sure the psychic goes. And ask Dr. Sloan to stay with Sophie until I can return."
"Certainly," Abby said. As she spoke, John turned back down the steps to attend to his duties at the door. "And you?" Abby asked. "What are you about?"
"William may need my help. I'm going to find him."
"Be careful." Abby's voice was fearful. "There's strange things happening at Mayfair. Strange and terrible."
"I'll be careful." Mary hurried to her room, took off her dress and found clothes suitable for riding. The one thing she had absolutely no desire to do was crawl up on Shalimar's back for another midnight ride. Her thighs were still sore and aching. For William, though, she'd ride bareback through hell.
Boots clattering on the steps, she hurried downstairs and out into the courtyard. The stables were strangely quiet and she remembered that Kevin was in the castle. If William had already left, no one probably knew which way he went.
"William." She spoke his name loudly as she walked toward the horses. "Are you here?"
Silence answered her.
She continued into the barn, feeling comforted by the sounds of the horses munching hay and shifting in their stalls. She stopped at Blaze's stall. The stallion was still there. William was not out riding. She turned back, caught by the silhouette of someone standing in the barn doorway.
"Hello, Mary," Chancey said as she walked inside. "Lovely dinner party. I'd declare it a smashing success. The gossip won't subside for weeks. Now, there's an asset for William."
"Were you in with Clarissa on that medium?" Mary didn't care that she was hurling accusations. If Chancey was not directly involved, she had every intention of using the incident to her advantage— to play Mary as a fool to the small community of Kelso.
"Clarissa is more than capable of making her own trouble," Chancey said, her voice filled with amusement. "Where's William?"
"I don't know." Mary hated to admit it, but she had no idea where he might turn up, or in what condition.
"Blaze is gone?"
"No," Mary said cold
ly.
"Then he's around. I checked the cars. He hasn't taken one, and if the horse is here, he hasn't left the grounds. I know him well, you see. Much better than you could ever learn to know him. William and I are alike. We share a common past, a common background. A common desire to see Mayfair prosper and the MacEachern name to continue with strong, healthy heirs."
"You've spoken of your brood mare capabilities before." Mary felt a surge of pure adrenaline. "I don't have time now to continue this discussion."
"Are you pregnant yet, Mary? If not, I'd accomplish that before William is dragged off to hospital."
Stunned at Chancey's knowledge of their personal business, Mary lost her aggressive edge.
"I see I've hit a nerve. William hasn't told you about the terms of his inheritance, has he? I'm assuming he's afraid you'll panic, once you understand that you may be carrying the child of someone who's mentally unstable."
"I don't know what you're talking about. William is fine."
"Save it for someone who might believe you. I don't." Chancey stepped closer. "In order to inherit, William must marry and produce an heir before he is thirty-five. A male heir. That gives you about two years. By my calculations, that's two babies. And if there should be trouble, or they should be girls…" She laughed. "How is your genetic disposition, Mary? Do boys or girls predominate?"
"That's absurd. No one would stipulate such a thing." Mary found that her breathing was shallow. She forced her mind to clear.
"Oh, someone has— and did. Good old Slaytor, whose name keeps popping up all over Mayfair these days. No MacEachern inherits unless there's proof he can continue the line. Slaytor MacEachern was a warrior. Times were very different when he was living, and so he stipulated the heir clause in his will to be passed down generation by generation."
"How do you know so much about the business at Mayfair?" Chancey was a liar, a great liar. This could be one of her tales.
"Everyone knows." Chancey laughed. "Everyone but you. You're the outsider, Mary. You're wrong for William. Did you hear Madame Sianna? Slaytor is stalking the grounds because he's disappointed that William is to marry you." She stepped even closer, until she was only four feet away. "You claim to be so much in love with William. Why don't you think about what you're doing to him? Just think about what it would mean for him to lose Mayfair. No heir, no prospects of one. You're not exactly a robust figure of a woman. In fact, I'd label you nothing more than a terrible liability."
The private moments with William came back to Mary like a slap in the face. William had spoken of his desire for children— soon, and as many of them as she wanted. Was that merely to meet the demands of his inheritance? She felt her trust begin to crumble. No! She had to give him a chance to answer the accusation. Before she believed anything, she had to ask him. And she would.
"Go home, Chancey. The evening is done." She wanted Chancey out of her way so she could find William. Find him and ask a few questions.
"If you want to stay at Mayfair, get pregnant before William goes in hospital. After that, it may be too late. But if you're with child, a boy child, perhaps you can save Mayfair for William. If you're not willing to do that, then get out of my way. Because I am."
"Does this look like I'm leaving?" Mary, goaded beyond clear thinking, drew the ring from beneath her sweater by the chain.
Chancey's indrawn breath let her know it had been an effective tool. "That's the MacEachern marriage ring," Chancey said.
"I know. William gave it to me. We're to be married November first. I hope you can attend, Chancey." Mary's speech was cool and formal. She'd regained her composure and the upper hand.
"Where did you get that ring?" Chancey's voice was half command and half frightened question.
"I told you, William gave it to me."
"That's impossible." Chancey's voice held no challenge, only fact.
"Impossible to you, but it happened to me."
"That's the marriage ring, the one every MacEachern from Slaytor down for more than four centuries has given his wife. On their wedding day!"
"I know that," Mary answered impatiently. There was something she wasn't getting. Besides, the enormity of the half lie she'd told Chancey was beginning to weigh on her. "I'm giving the ring back until we're wed."
"That should impress William."
Chancey was too smug. Mary felt the trap close before she heard Chancey's next words.
"That ring is never shown before the ceremony. It's tradition, Mary. The ring is placed on the bride's finger at the wedding. William would never give it to you beforehand. Never. In fact, he couldn't give it to you, even if he wanted."
"Why not?" Chancey's expression was so smug, so knowing, Mary couldn't help but ask.
"The ring has been missing for at least a hundred years. I'd like to be around when you explain to William exactly where you got it."
Chapter Eleven
Very clever. Very clever, indeed. Madame See-anna needs to see the inside of a good old-fashioned jail. That was a very interesting locket she was wearing. Very interesting the way it caught the candle flame and reflected just perfectly. The question with the madame is, who is she with and what does she hope to gain?
There's something rotten in Kelso, and it isn't the haggis, either.
Here's my opportunity. She's bending over to get something off the floor. One flying kitty leap! A terrible yank! Dodge a few glancing blows and make my getaway out the door.
* * *
"THAT DAMN CAT! He attacked me!" Madame Sianna turned to Clarissa. "You're responsible for this. I've never been attacked by an animal in my life."
"Really, Madame Sianna. How can you accuse me because that cat jumped at you? Besides, you aren't hurt. There isn't a mark on you." Clarissa motioned to her son. "Let's get out of here as quickly as possible. There's no telling what else might jump out at us." Her eyes were sparkling. "I've proven exactly what I hoped to prove— Mayfair is haunted. Something strange and dark has been happening behind these old walls. Did you see the way William jumped up and ran out of the room?"
"Mother," Darren started, his voice tired and disapproving. "If you continue to harass William— "
"I will continue." Clarissa's eyes snapped. "Until he's ready to sell Mayfair."
"I've told you, William will never sell." Darren's voice held the tiniest spark of anger. "He won't give up Mayfair voluntarily. You can't railroad him like you do me."
"Railroad! I only make you do what's good for you."
"Well, I've had just about enough of 'what's good for me.' Mark that down and remember it." Darren picked up Madame Sianna's bag. "I'll be downstairs, waiting for you. Make it fast, or you might discover that my patience isn't as endless as you like to think. I'm about fed up with your treacheries and manipulations. It might surprise you to learn that I have plans of my own."
"Darren!" Clarissa called after her son, but he walked out of the room, ignoring her.
"The night hasn't gone exactly as you wanted," Madame Sianna said. Her hand went to her throat and her face went white. "My necklace. Where is it?"
Clarissa looked from the medium's bare neck to the floor. "It has to be around here somewhere. You had it on not two minutes ago."
"The cat!" The medium looked around the room quickly. "That cat took my necklace."
Clarissa laughed. "That's rich. Mayfair has a warlord ghost and a thieving cat. A nice little fillip to my stories."
Madame Sianna's eyes were burning coals of fury. "This may amuse you, but that necklace is invaluable. It's a family heirloom, and I rely on it in my work."
"A necklace?" Clarissa was only mildly interested. "You use it in your work?"
"Yes. I must have it back."
"Then I suggest you take the matter up with William, if you can find him. Heaven knows where he might have gone to hunt down a ghost." She laughed softly at her own wit.
"This is not a matter for laughter." Madame Sianna's eyes grew even hotter. "I must have my necklace."<
br />
"Darren is waiting for us. We don't have time to hunt for it now." Her eyes widened. "But it would be a perfect excuse to come back here tomorrow. Maybe do some exploring on our own."
"I will not leave here without my necklace." Madame Sianna plopped down at the table.
"Is there some problem?" Abby moved up to the two women, her mouth set in a firm line.
Madame Sianna nodded. "That black devil of a cat stole my necklace."
"Familiar doesn't wear jewelry," Abby replied, never even giving the hint of a smile.
Sophie, who'd stopped her crying, and Dr. Sloan both laughed. Even Mrs. Daugherty, who was standing uncertainly at the door, joined in.
"That necklace is valuable." Madame Sianna smoldered. Her large golden earrings swung free of her dark hair as she looked around the room, checking the floor and under the table and chairs. "It has to be here somewhere."
"I'm sorry you've lost your necklace," Abby said. "I'll search the room thoroughly. Tomorrow. When, and if, I find it, I'll make sure and return it to you. No one at Mayfair, not even a cat, has ever been accused of being a thief."
Madame Sianna stood tall. "Thank you." Without waiting for Clarissa or Mrs. Daugherty, she swept out of the room and down the stairs.
"Come along, Emelda," Clarissa said sharply. "Darren is waiting, and he gets to be such a boor about it."
"Certainly, Clarissa." Mrs. Daugherty turned to Sophie. "It was a very…interesting evening. Please give William and Mary my regards. I hope everything is…fine here at Mayfair."
Sophie, still shaken by the séance, nodded. "I'll tell them. I hope everything works out, too." Her voice was only a little wobbly as she spoke.
* * *
NECKLACE, NECKLACE, who's got the necklace? I dare say it's some handsome bewhiskered fellow. Impeccably dressed in formal black. I can't imagine why that woman sets such store in this old piece of costume jewelry. Could it be because she uses it for something other than adornment for her dress? Yes, I do believe that's the case. Nice little hinge and tiny compartment for a small amount of almost any substance, a` la Borgias. They used to make these ornate necklaces and rings so substances could be hidden in them and used discreetly. Snuff was often put in them, but arsenic was carried in others. Many a wealthy lord or lady was sent to his or her grave with a dose from a locket or ring. And this locket works exactly the same way. If I only had a thumb, I could snap it right open! I learned about these things from one of those wonderful British mystery writers. It's amazing what tidbits of fascinating knowledge a well-traveled cat picks up along the way. Simply amazing.
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