At Dullinmuth there had been a subtle shift in attitudes. Rawly was much more relaxed. He and Molly spent long hours together chaperoned by the young siblings. Basil was sporting a contented, somewhat smug grin, and Mrs. Malone had sent for a modiste from Edinburgh. She spent much of her time giving careful attention to a new gown. Whether or not it was a frock suitable for the mother-of-the-bride none could say. Mr. Malone traveled back and forth from Edinburgh as his schedule would allow, sometimes in the company of one of his reporters. Some of them asked the odd question about the piper of Dullinmuth and wrote a random article about the spirit.
To the untrained eye, it appeared wedded bliss was only a proposal away.
“Molly, shall we ride again today?” Rawly asked, standing up from the breakfasting table. He had broken his fast with a rasher of bacon, raised and cured right at Dullinmuth, fine bannocks, two boiled eggs, and a pot of tea. He was feeling quite the thing, and his appetite reflected it.
“Yes, that would be lovely.” Molly’s cheeks pinked as her mother and Basil looked at her searchingly.
“Have a wonderful ride, my dear. Perhaps you will have some news for us when you return?” Basil hinted with a lift of his snowy brows.
The four left mounted on their usual horses, headed up toward the glen to a tumbled crofter’s cottage. For the past fortnight, this had been their daily destination. Rawly was forced to keep the stallion’s gait in check so the other more placid animals could keep apace with him.
“Mother is completely bored with the piper,” Molly said out of the blue.
“Indeed?” Rawly easily handled the stallion who now looked forward to his usual jaunt each day. He could eat up the ground without much effort but seemed content with the company of the other animals.
“She is quite chaffed that he doesn’t do anything.” Molly reined her horse around a gorse bush.
“What would she like for him to do?” Rawly’s voice was spiced with amusement. “He is a piper—he pipes. The legend says he was left to pipe the laird home from battle. But when the laird returned, he was carried on his great shield, dead. It broke the piper’s heart, and he threw himself off the upper battlements. But that is just one story.”
“Well, it would be wonderful if he did something besides pipe. Maybe show a gruesome aspect…perhaps rattle some chains or old bones. Carry around a disembodied head. You know the usual type of haunting behavior that one expects in a proper ghost.”
Rawly laughed. “Molly, I do believe you have a morbid streak to your spirit. You know, as a child I found it most comforting that the Dullinmuth piper didn’t do any of those things you describe. I could depend on the old fellow to be just what he was and no more. No child wants the wits frightened out of them. Bloody corpses and gore can scar a child for life.”
“Yes, well mother likes her specters with a bit more menace. She is bored with the piper—and I think bored with waiting for us to announce a wedding. She will not be held off forever.”
They reached the cottage and all four dismounted. Rawly left the horses to the youngsters and went inside. There was a table, old but scrubbed clean. A pot of ink and paper, as well as several candle stubs. A jug sat on the stone hearth. Two tree stumps served as seats, and Molly took one of them.
“Did you hear? About the paper I mean,” Molly asked as she settled herself.
Rawly grinned. “About A. Hopeful’s article? Aye, I heard. Seems Mr. Hopeful is the new darling at the newspaper, eh?”
“Yes.” Molly beamed. “My father is quite taken with the articles he has been receiving. He has said the new reporter is the best he has seen in many years.”
“You should be quite proud. What does the A stand for?” Rawly asked with a grin.
“Always, of course.”
“Always Hopeful…”
A noise outside had Molly rising to her feet. She looked expectantly toward the door, her eyes twinkling with interest.
Todd Hull walked in, a bit sweaty from his climb, but he also was smiling. “Ready for another lesson?”
“Absolutely. Rawly, pull out your brother’s letter so I may compose a new story.” Molly sounded a bit breathy.
Rawly did as he was bid, then he stretched out on an old woolen blanket, pillowed his head on his hands and listened while Todd read the letter. Molly’s pen scratched on the paper throughout. Occasionally Todd would give her a bit of advice on structure or form. Sometimes they had a heated debate over what word to use. It was really very charming. When it appeared they were done with the new article that Todd would take to Edinburgh and finagle into the paper’s front page, Rawly stood.
“Since Always Hopeful’s latest article is finished, I think the three of us should talk.”
“About what?” Todd asked, his eyes firmly fixed on Molly. He had been her secret confederate throughout this mad scheme.
“About you two being madly in love.”
The couple reddened, and both stuttered out hasty denials. Rawly listened for half a heartbeat before he raised his hand.
“Please. As Basil would say, but me no buts. It is plain as the blush on your faces. You two are in love. You speak the same language—your love of writing—you both have the same unconventional, adventurous spirit…your eyes have said what your words have not. You are completely smitten.”
They became quiet as he spoke, turning to stare at each other as if they had never seen one another before. Light dawned in their eyes.
“You both have a craving to travel, to see the world, to write about what you see. Neither one of you gives a fig for society balls and tradition. Molly has no desire to settle in at Dullinmuth to produce heirs for Basil anymore than I do.”
“I do love you,” Todd said firmly. “Actually I think I have from the first. But you are Molly Malone—and I’m just myself.”
“Meaning what?” Molly asked softly. “Are you trying to say that because of who my father is and where I live I am not capable of loving you in return?”
There was steel in the lass’s voice, and it brought both Rawly and Todd up short.
“Nay—I—that is—” Todd stumbled a bit.
“Well, I am quite capable of loving you. In fact, I do.”
“Your father will never permit it,” Todd said, taking her hand. “We are too far apart in class and station.”
“There is a way,” Molly said with a gleam in her eye. “There is a way that will thwart my father, and will guarantee we are married. In fact, I believe my parents will be happy to see the match.”
“You are frightening me,” Todd said with a grin.
“Exactly what are you proposing Miss Malone?” Rawly wanted to remind the lass he was still present because the sparkle in her eyes was frightening him as well.
“Just leave it to me. My father will be happy to see Todd wed me, and Rawly will be well and truly off the hook. You both need do nothing—leave it all to me.” She smiled broadly and gave a little chuckle. “Of course, Mama will take to her bed for a month or two in shame, but that will give us time to find a ship and be off on our honeymoon. I think Egypt will be lovely this time of year. Perhaps I can walk the same sand as Lady Stanhope.”
****
Toffy and Adorna stood in the street watching the installation of the new sign. It was a grand aspect—hewn oak, ornately carved, with the raised lettering painted in green and picked out in a black border. She felt a surge of pride as she watched it hoisted higher and higher until it was in place over her front door.
Several brawny workmen went about securing it to the strong, wrought-iron arm that had been bolted beneath the eaves of the ground floor of her house. It swung on newly forged chains in the rising breeze.
“Quite fashionable, isn’t it? But do you think people will notice it?” Toffy asked with a slight shiver.
Adorna took off her own shawl and put it over Toffy’s shoulders. “I don’t want you to get a chill. The breeze feels like it has ice in it today.”
Toffy seemed to be
staring off into the near distance at something. Adorna frowned and looked but she saw nothing.
“What is it?” Adorna asked. “Is it Meridius?”
“Aye. He is here. He feels the wind, too.” Toffy watched as Meridius took solid form. The wind whipped around him, tugging at his clothing. It seemed odd that a ghost could be affected by the wind, but she clearly saw each gust lift the edge of his clothing. His toga blew up.
“Ah, so I see Romans were the same garment under their garb as Scotsmen do under their kilts.”
“But Scots wear nothing under their kilts, Aunt,” Adorna corrected, frowning at the nothing she saw in Toffy’s line of sight.
“Precisely. And Romans wear the same,” Toffy said with a wicked lift of her brows.
Adorna laughed. “Aunt! I don’t know if I should be scandalized or disturbed to know you are ogling a ghost.”
“He is a ghost, but he is the ghost of a man. Meridius is quite handsome.”
“Why is it I canna see him when you do?”
“I asked him about that. He thinks it takes effort—some force for him to allow us to see him, and it is almost more than he can manage to be seen by more than one living person at a time. Do you suppose he gets wet in the rain?”
Adorna puzzled over that a moment. “I don’t know—do you think he does?”
“If the wind can move his clothes, then perhaps he feels the damp and wet just like we do. There are so many things about the spirit world I canna understand.”
“Mayhap that is why he enjoys wine and bannocks. Could it be that ghosts have a hunger for food and comfort just as we do?”
“I will have to remember to ask him about that. I have thought that perhaps it is easier for him to appear to me because I grow closer to the spirit world each day. I think the very young and the very old are nearer that veil.”
“Has he given you any more insights into Rawly’s activity?” Adorna asked, wanting to change the subject. The issue of Toffy’s age and the fact that she could anticipate her death soon saddened Adorna.
“No. Meridius has tried to reach Rawly since the day he found the little mosaic. There is some barrier to Rawly’s comings and goings. Maybe it is because Rawly is in the prime of his life—he is strong and vital and far from the other side. Odd, though, the only other event Meridius cannot see is his own death. It is his quest you know—to find out what happened and how he died—and where his bones lay.”
“Really?”
“Aye. I don’t understand all he has tried to tell me but there is some great—unknown—surrounding his death. It weighs heavily on him. And for some reason, he seems to be anchored in some way to this house. This is where he bumped into Henry Miggins, you know. As Henry was moving—on—Meridius and he sort of collided.”
Adorna thought about that for a moment. It was strange to think that spirits were floating around like bits of fluff in the air, bumping into each other.
“Well, I suppose I understand his curiosity. I mean if you simply woke up and you were departed from all you had known with no notion of how it happened. I can see how that would be disconcerting.” She thought of the day that Henry had died peacefully in his own bed. He was with people who loved him. To leave in another way brought a frisson of melancholy through her.
“What do you think?” One of the workmen called down to them, wrenching their thoughts to the present. They looked up to see the sign was finished and in its place of pride. The workmen cleared their tools and took a moment to admire their handiwork.
“It appears the sign is doing its job, missus.” One man said doffing his cap to Adorna. The wind was rising, swinging the sign merrily back and forth, it creaked slightly on the new chains. The gusty breeze was tearing at Adorna’s bun and lifting the edge of her skirts and she fought at both while she looked up the lane.
“How do you mean?” She put a hand to her hair to save her pins and to keep it from blowing across her eyes.
“Yon gentleman is riding up now. Perhaps he has need of your discreet services. I think he saw the sign from afar.”
Chapter Eleven
There was indeed a rider coming, but she doubted he was in need of discreet advice. In fact from the jut of his jaw and the expert way he handled the horse, she doubted he needed much of anything. As he drew nearer there was no question in her mind…
Some of the outdoor color on his face had faded a bit, and his hair had darkened, his brows were no longer sun-kissed. But his smile was just as dazzling.
“Rawly!” Toffy and Adorna said at the same time. Their delight at seeing him was a bit unseemly but they didn’t care about the surprised looks on the faces of the workmen as they picked up their skirts and rushed to him.
He reined the black stallion in and swung down from the saddle. He held the reins in one hand and hugged them both in one arm, causing a few murmurs among the men who tugged their caps down and looked away blushing.
It was not customary to see two respectable women making fast and loose with men on the streets of Edinburgh—at least not in broad daylight of a workday.
“Och and ’tis good to see you both. I see you have made some changes since I left. Will you perhaps still have a room for an old—lodger?” He gestured to the swinging sign.
Adorna smiled. “Of course we have your room, whether we are a lodging house or no. After all, your tools are still here as well. It really is as if you never left. How long will you be staying?”
“That is unclear. I’m in Edinburgh to book passage for a trip.”
“Oh, I see.” Adorna began but she didn’t see. Was he marrying soon and arranging a honeymoon or was he fleeing Scotland in the wake of a jilted fiancée?
“Come inside, this sounds like a story we will want to hear. Over tea? Or perhaps something stronger?”
Crosbie appeared as usual just as he was needed. He was clearly happy to see Rawly but never neglect his duty. He said he would settle the stallion in the stable behind the house since the boy had remained at Dullinmuth. Rawly went through the hallway and down into the kitchen to say a word to Cook and Meg. Adorna watched from the doorway pleased by the delight he brought into her home.
“Och, I have a pan of bannocks just ready, Mr. Rawly.” Cook said with a smile on her red face. “We have missed you.”
“As have I, nobody can touch your bannocks, but I’m back now.”
****
Adorna and Toffy were in the parlor making sure everything was looking its best when Meg brought in a tray with scones, bannocks, and hot tea. Rawly had lingered in the kitchen with Cook and walked in behind the maid.
Mrs. Scrum was reading the newspaper when Rawly entered. She squealed like a girl at the sight of him.
“Oh, you have returned. For a moment I thought Toffy was having a laugh by telling me so. She has such a wicked sense of humor.”
“I have been told that my presence can be like a bad joke at times, but enough of this. I hear congratulations are in order.” Rawly kissed the back of her hand and lightly touched her wedding ring. “Marriage agrees with you. You are prettier than ever. I waited too long, and Mr. Scrum beat me to the mark. I am fair wounded to have lost my chance.”
“You rascal!” She blushed to her roots. “’Tis good to see you—I hope you are here to stay.”
Rawly did not answer, instead he seated himself and asked. “What is in the news today?”
“Terrible news has the front page. It seems a yellow fever outbreak in Africa has killed a huge proportion of the white officials. Not that I have a head for such things, mind, but the story says the lack of white men has left the only option of appointing natives. It is a radical notion, I believe, is it not?”
“Past time more like,” Toffy muttered under her breath.
“Ma’m, what shall I pour—or will it be only tea?” Crosbie as usual had been silently invisible in the room. Adorna wondered what he privately thought about the story in the newspaper. There was much about him she didn’t know. She wondered abo
ut Crosbie’s origins and if he had personal experience of Africa—perhaps even kith and kin. Most of his life was almost as big a mystery as Rawly’s mysterious past-times.
“Tea, Rawly—or something stronger?” Adorna asked.
“I would enjoy a dram. Toffy are you partaking or is it watered wine for you?” Rawly raised his brows as if anticipating her answer.
“I think I will have a dram as well. My bones are chilled from the wind.” She sounded tired. Adorna went to her and touched her cheek. Toffy smiled, but pushed Adorna’s hand away gently.
“Rawly tell us what has transpired since you left us?” Toffy asked.
“I would be more interested in what has been happening here. Last I saw you, things were grim because of Mrs. Malone’s haunting society and their newspaper accounts. It appears things have changed.”
“We are in a much better position now, thank the Lord—and I believe you had a hand also. That was why you left in such a hurry, wasn’t it? The story of your spectral piper was quite the talk of the city—it took all the focus off this house. Why did you not tell us you had a ghost of your own?” Adorna asked.
“I had the distinct impression you thought people who believed in spirits were soft in the head. I certainly did not wish to go down in your estimation. It is a rather prickly topic to introduce into conversation—excuse me but did you know I have a dour piper that appears at eight of the clock?—I canna see how that would have helped me.” Rawly chuckled and then sipped his whisky, enjoying the comforting spread of warmth through his limbs. It felt good to be back in the lodging house. The company was familiar and welcoming.
“I must apologize for my hard stance. I’m somewhat embarrassed to say I have come round to a new way of thinking.” Adorna felt the blush climbing her face.
“So, will you tell me about the spirit who haunts this house?” he asked softly.
“Perhaps later. Right now I want to hear about Molly. Are we going to see a wedding soon? Toffy and I have spent a bit of our income on several new frocks. We can afford to journey to Dullinmuth, and we will not be lacking in our dress—should we be invited.” Adorna hinted. She was so curious about what was going on.
Aunt Toffy and the Ghost Page 12