As Basil predicted the carriages began to arrive right on time. The young ladies were a tableau of fresh complexions and bright swirling silks. Lacy parasols were smartly snapped closed as each entered the house.
The first was a wide-eyed girl with bouncy yellow curls at each temple. Heather McGraw, daughter of a whisky merchant. Rawly bowed over her hand when she came into the room.
The next was dark of eye and hair with skin the color of fresh skimmed cream, Nell Wallace. Her father was a wool vendor. Rawly kissed the air above her knuckles, doing the pretty.
The last lass was freckled with ginger hair and a winning smile, Molly Malone. She barely paused for Rawly to execute a quick bow.
“So nice to meet you, Mrs. Miggins.” She swept by the men and curtsied sweetly to Adorna’s then she met her gaze directly. “Thank you for having me in your home.”
She was a cut different than the other two girls.
“And what does your father do, Molly?” Toffy asked without preamble as all the misses arranged their skirts and sat down.
“My father is Mick Malone; he publishes a newspaper. The Edinburgh Herald. If I was a man I could take my place beside him—he wanted a son of course, but he got me. I think being able to write a story and report the news of the day would be marvelous.”
“I read the Herald often.” Adorna poured out the tea and waited for Basil to start guiding the conversation to their credentials as prospective bride to Rawly and mother to the Dullinmuth heir. He had little interest in educated misses or personal aspirations and was soon asking just what he wanted to know.
The girls had appropriate answers, and the tea proceeded without incident until the moment Basil spoke of returning to Dullinmuth.
“Aye, ’tis bonny and whomever weds Rawly will be the mistress of the ’ouse.” He winked at the blushing girls. “The sooner he weds the sooner we can leave Auld Reeky and return to Dullinmuth.”
“You would leave immediately?” Adorna asked tamping down the alarm that thought brought. She had just got her rooms filled, she didn’t want to see Basil and Rawly leaving.
“Aye. We will be back in Dullinmuth as quickly as possible to make arrangements and let the lassie settle in.” Basil smiled like a hungry fox.
Adorna felt something in the air that she could not easily describe. It started with a strange hum that seemed to resonate from any jug, cup, or decanter holding liquid. She could see ripples in the cups of tea. There was also a vibration that Adorna could feel through the soles of her shoes. Then, the now familiar, gust of cold wind rushed through the room. It was so cold she found it difficult to keep her teeth from chattering.
There were squeaks of dismay from all the misses except the ginger haired lass. She surveyed the room with a cool assessment. The other girls were tittering nervously, but she turned and smiled sweetly and said, “Mrs. Miggins I do believe your quaint little house is haunted.”
Adorna choked on a mouthful of tea, but before she could recover Basil stood up.
“’Tis only the wind. No true Scottish ghost would settle for such a wee breeze. There was no wailing, or music.” Basil snorted. “Nay, ’tis no ghost, lassie, dinna let your imagination run away with ye.”
“Aye, Basil is correct, surely ’tis only the wind down the chimney,” Adorna agreed. “We have had such a cold and damp spring—I think it has done some damage to the draft. I may have to get the masons in to look at the bricks.”
“No, I’m sure you have a ghost. My father will be delighted.” Her ginger curls were bouncing as she nodded. “I can’t wait to tell him.” She stood up as if she were preparing to leave.
“What?” Adorna was now on her feet, wringing her hands.
“He is currently writing a series of exposes about spiritual hauntings in Edinburgh. I wanted to do some of the stories, but he wouldn’t have it. You see my mother is the head of the Spiritual Society of Scotland. They will be so happy to hear that I personally know someone who lives with a ghost in their house right here in Edinburgh. I’m so happy I came today.”
“Oh, I don’t ken Meridius well be much pleased by that,” Toffy whispered to Adorna. “Heaven only knows what he will get up to now.”
“Ghosts, guttered candles, wind down the chimney! How am I ever to find a proper wife for Rawly?” Basil slumped into a chair, holding his head in his hands. When he looked up, his wild mane of silver hair was going in every direction. “Heaven help me. All I want is a great-grandchild—why is it so difficult?”
****
The next morning dawned with a violent storm. The rain appeared to be falling sideways instead of from the sky above. Adorna sighed in relief, at least the weather would discourage visitors and Basil would not ask any eligible misses out on a day like this—would he? She stood in the parlor and looked out the window torn between wishing this would last all spring or praying for warm weather so she could decrease her expense for coal.
An impressive sprung carriage rolled up outside her house. Painted black, with a fine fringe on the window coverings—it was a sight. A footman jumped down and opened a large umbrella. A finely dressed woman in peacock blue was helped down. Her skirts were full and her sleeves enormous. The footman held the umbrella over her head as she marched up the steps to spare her from the rain.
Crosbie opened the door, and since the weather was foul and only good manners, he admitted the woman inside immediately. Adorna observed all this from the top of the stairs.
The woman shook the rain from her sleeves and skirts. Her coppery hair was arranged artfully, and the umbrella had spared her—mostly.
“Mrs. Miggins! I am Mrs. Malone from the spiritualist society. You met my daughter, Molly, yesterday. I have come to call. Mrs. Miggins!” She shouted out as she cast her gaze around the hallway, trying to look beyond the tall bulk of Crosbie.
Adorna knew it would be useless to try and hide so she stepped into the landing at the top of the stairs. She looked down and was greeted by a bright smile and a force of will so strong it emanated from the woman in waves.
“I have come to meet your ghost,” she announced as if it was the most natural thing in the world—like looking at one’s garden or admiring the china pattern. She thrust out her hand, and Adorna hesitated a moment before taking it.
“Ghost? What ghost?”
“Now, now, please don’t be coy. Molly is quite convinced you have one. Now where is it?” She turned a hard gaze on Adorna. “You wouldn’t be trying to keep the spirit to yourself, would you?”
“Really, Mrs. Malone, your daughter is much mistaken I tell you. Of course I don’t have a ghost—I mean I don’t even believe in ghosts.” Adorna was trying her best to block the woman’s further entry into her home, but it was a lost cause. She was substantially built, and determined. She was armed with the freshest copy of The Edinburgh Herald which she brandished like a saber and her fervent belief in ghosts.
“Mrs. Miggins, you do not understand at all. We wish you no harm, on the contrary, we will make your little abode famous. Famous—do you hear me? People will be flocking to your door.”
Adorna decided to try the most reasonable of arguments. “Mrs. Malone, I understand that your society is curious about ghosts and haunts, but most people do not wish to lodge where things go bumping around in the night. I’m sorry, I truly am, but I cannot risk my livelihood with rumors of spirits. I do not have a ghost, but even if I did, I would not wish it become fodder for the gossips or subjects of newspaper stories.” She had managed to keep them all in the entryway.
“But we must—absolutely must have access to your fabulous ghost.” Her voice quivered as if she were close to tears.
Adorna made a move to open the door and show her out when suddenly Toffy appeared behind her.
“Crosbie, please bring tea for three to the parlor.” Toffy ascended the stairway. “I think we have much to discuss with Mrs. Malone.”
Adorna was determined to hold her ground in the face of absolute belief, but now it a
ppeared that Toffy had betrayed her. She was inviting the enemy to tea!
An hour later, the three women sat in the parlor. Adorna had no luck in swaying opinions but she was still trying.
“There is no ghost. All these occurrences can easily be explained by the age of my house. We have strong and odd drafts, like most of us in Edinburgh. The vagaries of the weather are to blame.” Adorna sipped her tea, her throat had gone dry saying the same thing over and over.
“I think you are mistaken—” Mrs. Malone was clearly going to say more when Rawly rushed in. He was caked in mud and half drowned, but he entered the room as if in his finest attire. He made an elegant bow before Mrs. Malone.
“Crosbie informed me of your guest. Ah, how nice to meet you, Mrs. Malone. I see where your daughter gets her beauty.”
Adorna was quite surprised to see Rawly playing the gallant, particularly in his current state of dress, but at least it took Mrs. Malone’s attention from the subject of spirits. She sighed in relief. At least she had a confederate.
“Please, tell me all about yourself, Mrs. Malone. Leave out no detail.” He leaned close to Adorna and whispered, “Leave it to me, Mrs. Miggins. Basil caused this problem for you and I will fix it—somehow. I will find a way to lure this lady away. I will return your household to normal if it is the last thing I do.”
Crosbie, as usual, appeared at just the right time. He produced a length of cloth and spread it on a chair just before Rawly moved to sit in it with his dirty clothes. He leaned close enough to hold Mrs. Malone’s hand as she began her narrative of her life. He was most attentive and soon the subject of a ghost in her house was all but forgotten.
She said a silent thanks to Rawly.
Adorna was not sure how this was supposed to help her exactly, but she was willing to trust Rawly and hope he did have a plan. She would take aid from any quarter at this point—her situation had the potential to become dire if Mrs. Malone splashed Meridius across the newspaper.
Evidently Mrs. Malone had not been diverted enough by Rawly or perhaps Mrs. Malone had relented and let Molly write what she wished.
The first newspaper story hit the streets in the early morning on Monday. Gawkers began to appear in the street outside Adorna’s house on Tuesday, pointing at the house, some crossing themselves. Wednesday morning the second story was printed.
It was amazing to Adorna that they were able to make so much from nothing. Toffy nor she had said anything, and yet they had built a colorful, frightening and mostly untrue scenario.
The public seemed to be taken by it, judging from the foot traffic by her house.
A story about a ghost in a respectable lodging house in the heart of old Edinburgh. They were more popular than the true horror of Burke and Hare.
On Wednesday, Mrs. Wise regretfully announced she had to leave.
“I am so sorry my dear. It is just that the elders of the church—you see they cannot abide all this talk of wandering spirits. I would much rather stay here. They have found me lodgings with one of the members. Her house is not nearly so nice as yours… There is always a draft—ahem—I mean it is cold. The room she has given me is near the attic. I am practically housed with the housemaids. But I will have to bear it. I’m sorry.” She burst into tears and left the house with her small carpet bag in her hand. It made Adorna sad to see her go. They had been so like a family.
Each day there was a new article more flowery and bizarre than the last. There was no truth at all except that Mr. Malone, or his reporter, had interviewed all the pretty misses that Basil had brought to the house. Each one embellished on what the other had said, until Adorna’s residence was a veritable house of haunts where no one was safe and terrible deeds were sure to happen. Tales of cold hands clutching at them from the grave, and spectral haunts attempting to snatch them into the world of the dead were now everyday fodder.
“Don’t fash yourself dear, a new story will soon come along to take the attention. We must just persevere.” Toffy lifted her chin and did her best to make Adorna smile.
If they were thrifty and cut back a wee bit more—they could endure. The household was shrunk a bit, but they were not empty. Adorna thought of them like a boat at sea, but they were still afloat if a bit leaky.
Then Mr. Scrum came home one day at the lunch hour looking dour. He fiddled with his hat, straightened his neck cloth, and avoided Adorna’s eyes.
“The bank director called me to his office. He is a staunch Presbyterian, as you know. He made it as plain as the thin, sharp nose on his face. Either I find another lodging house or my position is in jeopardy. Please be assured I’m still your friend. If you need aught, then call on me.” He snuffled and dabbed at his eyes. “Must be some grit in the air.” He gathered his belongings quickly and came back downstairs clutching his carpetbag. Then he did the unthinkable and pulled Adorna and Toffy into an embrace. “I am so sorry dears. I would have stayed here until my last breath, but for this.”
Then he too walked out of their lives. Crosbie stood with them and watched the elderly man go up the paving until he was completely out of sight.
“And so we are nearly alone,” Toffy said with a sniff, dabbing at her eyes.
“Well, take heart, we still have Rawly and Basil,” Crosbie said gruffly. “Cook can do wonders with porridge. With Basil and Rawly we will manage.”
Adorna saw them both swipe at their eyes, and she swallowed the hard, hot lump in her throat. She couldn’t cry—she would not cry—not here on the street.
Chapter Seven
The house was quiet without the older lodgers. Toffy and Adorna now seemed to be speaking in whispers almost as if there had been a death in the house. It felt like that, like a loss of life and not just livelihood. She had been visiting the cemetery more often—she wasn’t sure if it was because she felt like she was in mourning or if she was trying to escape her house.
The lovely snug house had once been her sanctuary, but now with the curious onlookers turning up unexpectedly and new stories appearing in the paper all the time, her house no longer comforted.
She had found the quiet of the churchyard this day a balm for her soul. When she returned home and found no stranger staring at her house from the street she was almost giddy.
Adorna walked into the front hallway, pulling off her cloak and bonnet. She saw a small envelope on the silver salver. She took it and opened it up to read the single page.
“When did this invitation arrive?” Adorna asked Crosbie as she read the flowing elegant script for the third time.
“Mr. Rawly left it this morning when he came for his and Mr. Basil’s belongings. He rode out on the stallion shortly after.”
“What do you mean when he came for their belongings?” Adorna’s calm fled, and she felt her heart skip a beat.
“When you went to Grayfriars today, Rawly returned. He brought the stable lad round with the carriage they removed all their baggage to Dullinmuth.”
“What does it say, Adorna?” Toffy came in from the parlor. She was too short to read over Adorna’s shoulder but that didn’t prevent her from trying.
“It is an invite to a ball to be held at Dullinmuth. An elite celebration it says. Of course we cannot attend, the cost to travel would be too dear.”
“I wonder if Miss Malone has finally received her proposal from Rawly. Surely that is the reason for the gathering. Mrs. Malone will be so pleased to have Rawly for a son-in-law.” Toffy sat down, tired from the exertion of the moment.
“That is all I can imagine would take both Rawly and Basil back to Dullinmuth on such short notice. Well, Basil will be pleased,” Crosbie said.
“You are right, of course, Basil will be over the moon. I am not so sure Rawly will be but he is a grown man and can certainly do as he likes,” Adorna muttered. “So much for his chivalrous offer to fix our problem. It would appear we are well and truly on our own now.” The specter of a cold and hungry winter loomed before Adorna.
“Mrs. Malone sent word tha
t she will be arriving for tea this afternoon,” Crosbie said with lifted brows. “We are running quite low on tea—and a few other staples.”
Adorna sighed. With no lodgers left, they were going to be running more than low. “It is too late to put her off, so I suppose we must. Do the best you can, Crosbie.”
“I am much surprised that she is taking tea when they are all preparing to go to Dullinmuth. That seems odd,” Toffy observed. Adorna merely nodded. She had worries enough without concerning herself with Mrs. Malone’s preparations to travel.
It was mid-afternoon when Mrs. Malone arrived with a new spat of gray skies and pelting rain. Instead of the satisfied mother-of-the-bride Adorna expected, she was drawn, nervous, and clearly distracted.
“Oh, Mrs. Miggins, I need your help. You simply must petition your ghost to assist me.”
“I keep telling you we have no ghost.” Adorna was growing weary of this dance.
Mrs. Malone’s hand fluttered at her breast like a bird with a broken wing. She sagged into the nearest chair. “I don’t have time to continue this silly debate, Mrs. Miggins. I have lost a valuable mourning broach. Mr. Malone has given the household until sundown to return it or the entire staff will be turned out on the street without a character—or worse, he might even see them taken to the Tollbooth. My husband will brook no interference in this matter. He is resolved. Do you realize what that would mean to me? I cannot believe any of them would steal, but I have looked everywhere. You must ask your ghost. You cannot refuse me, there is too much at stake to continue denying his existence, surely you see that.”
Adorna opened her mouth to refuse when Toffy appeared in the doorway. “I will ask Meridius for you Mrs. Malone, but your newspaper stories about the ghost have cost Adorna all of her lodgers. She has no way of generating income now. We must have recompense. What will do for us if we find your broach?”
Mrs. Malone’s eyes blinked owlishly. She twisted her gloved fingers then she sighed. “Anything. I will pay anything you ask, but please help my household. And please do it quickly. I must leave for Dullinmuth soon, and if the broach is not found, neither Molly or I will have so much as a maid between us.”
Aunt Toffy and the Ghost Page 8