by Hopes
Archie and Mary glanced at each other, and Elenora nodded.
“So, if there is any bad feeling or any unfinished business between any of us it must be resolved amicably before we go any further.”
Remembering her conversation with Elenora, Mary took her cue and said: “Archie, Ah apologise wholeheartedly for the inappropriate remarks Ah made the day ye met us off the boat. Ah had no way of knowing ...”
Archie picked up on her sentence. “Ah understand, so not another word. By the same token how was Ah to know then that ye also had been widowed. Ah waded in with both feet with cutting remarks of my own. Can we now let bygones be bygones?”
Mary nodded her agreement.
Elenora smiled. “Excellent. After all, we all of us say and do things we later regret – so in this case no harm done”
As if she had been summoned After a discreet knock on the door Granny entered bearing another tea-tray.
“Ah just thought, Miss Patten, that maybe a fresh pot of tea and some more dainties might be welcome at this point.”
“Granny, for somebody who professes not to believe in what you call, ‘all this supernatural mumbo-jumbo’ you seem pretty well tuned in to the thoughts of others. Thank you for the tea. Now, since I have a business matter to discuss with Archie and Mary will you please see to it that we are not disturbed until I ring. Thank you.”
Turning to Mary and Archie, Elenora continued: “I have decided to move from evening and afternoon sittings to perhaps having weekend sessions. This will obviously mean extra work for you, Mary, and I will arrange for additional help in the house – perhaps your sister-in-law may be prepared to come for the weekends, Archie? Now, this is where you come in, Archie, I would want to hire your services for the entire weekend to be free to transport my guests to and from the pier on arrival and departure but also to and from the town when they are at leisure over the weekend. If you would also be prepared to function as a temporary butler on those occasions that would be excellent. Also, I hear you are something of a handyman? There is some work needing to be done in the upstairs bedrooms before we have guests, and if you could find some men to work on the grounds to tidy everything up that would be very helpful.”
Chapter Eighteen
Approaching Halloween, Miss Patten decided it would be as good a time as any to inaugurate the Ivylea supernatural weekends.
As she and Mary sat discussing arrangements, Elenora said: “You know, the idea of having these weekends, as opposed to the evening parties you suggested, originated in a remark made by Granny. One day after she’d finished cleaning one of the upstairs rooms she remarked: ‘It’s a right shame there’s these beautiful rooms with great views across the water and not a living soul to enjoy them.’”
“Aye, that sounds exactly like Granny,” Mary said. “She’s got a real bee in her bonnet about the unused rooms upstairs. Mind ye, and Ah hope Ah’m not being impertinent, Ah’ve often wondered why ye always use the downstairs bedroom. For that matter ye hardly ever even go to the upstairs part of the house.”
Elenora looked decidedly discomfited, as if for once she had been caught unawares.
There was a long silence before she finally said: “Fair question, Mary. And no, I don’t find it in the least impertinent ...”
She fiddled with the handsome emerald ring which she always wore on her left hand and sat with a strange far-away look on her face. Mary thought her employer was about to go into one of her trances but then shaking herself as though coming out of a dream Elenora said: “Sorry. I was miles away. Those upstairs rooms? Not one of them but has unhappy memories for me ...”
Again Elenora sat in silence before she continued in a voice hardly above a whisper: “To understand what I am about to tell you, you must know that my father was a bully. He always had to be in full control of everything and everybody that crossed his path. Above all he was ruthless in business. My father was a well-respected figure of authority both in Dunoon and Glasgow business circles. After all, to have risen as he did to become a rich and powerful business man having come from nothing – from a hovel in Glasgow’s East End – it stands to reason he must have been a really strong character.
“One of the rooms upstairs was my father’s study, close to my bedroom, and many a time I’d hear angry words shouted as he berated someone for some real or imagined misdemeanour. Even my mother, on occasion for being too soft with the household staff.
“It was in that very room that he sent my Murdoch, the love of my life, packing. Murdoch, a newly qualified lawyer, wasn’t good enough for the daughter of Richard Baxter Patten – no one was good enough ... Father decided for me. It would be the Laird or nothing. His word was final. And in the end for me, it was nothing.”
Mary laid a comforting hand on Elenora’s arm who looked up with a sad little smile.
“What was a girl to do? When Father discovered Murdoch had given me this ring ...” Elenora indicated the emerald ring, “he took it and had me locked in my bedroom for long months until he had managed to make it impossible for Murdoch to conduct any business, or thrive in any way, in Dunoon. I heard later that Murdoch had moved to Edinburgh and was settled with a wife and family. It could have been me, with children of my own gathered round me. I found the ring in Father’s desk after he died and have worn it ever since.”
A routine was soon established: The guests, all of them from the mainland, started arriving early on Friday evening to be met pierside by Archie. Once escorted into Ivylea, Archie assuming the role of general factotum carried their bags upstairs and announced that a welcoming cup of tea would be available shortly in the drawing room
As Archie and Mary served the various courses, the guests gradually relaxed and by the time they were seated in the drawing room it was a meeting of friends rather than a roomful of strangers.
Those guests who were new to spiritual matters invariably were surprised to find that far from oppressive dark rooms presided over by regal unapproachable mediums the ambience of Ivylea was alive with laughter. Some even questioned Elenora on the jollity, shared jokes and ready laughter.
“Our spirit friends love the sound of genuine happy laughter,” Elenora would explain. “It seems to help them to come through especially when we have a trance session. For those of you who have never before witnessed trance I will point out that you will see a mask-like appearance come over my face. You will see the features of people who have passed and are known to you and others present. It is quite in order to say, hello, to any that you recognise, perhaps even to thank them for the great effort they have made in coming through.”
On one such weekend, Elenora settled herself in her throne-like chair and started off by reassuring her guests.
“Now, first of all let me calm any concerns. There is nothing to be afraid of; there will be no harmful spirits, no headless ghosts clanking chains behind them.”
A titter of nervous energy greeted this. At once it was abundantly clear that a display of such spectres was exactly what many of the guests had been imagining, if not expecting.
Elenora gave a knowing nod.
“Yes. Just as I thought. Perhaps I should give you a little introduction about spiritual matters before I go into a trance or we hold an actual sitting.”
There were nods of approval and even a few exhaled gasps of relief which caused amused smiles from some of the braver members of the group.
“Spirit is all round us, helping us, even though we do not always listen, or go with that first gut-feeling, they do still try to help. Take this little group here tonight. We are not here by chance – this has not come about by coincidence. We are here, at precisely the right time, in the right place in each of our lives for this weekend to be meaningful for each individual.
“In fact, there is no such thing as coincidence. I prefer to call it synchronicity, a bringing together of all essential factors at the correct time for all the people involved. There is so much I want to tell you about spirit or the so-called supern
atural but I have no wish to overload your brains at this stage. One thing I will bring to your notice – everything on earth started as an idea.” She paused and pointed at a coffee table. “Even that table there started as an idea in some long-ago carpenter’s head. So we must remember the importance of positive thought, because all thoughts, be they positive or negative, eventually become reality. Am I not right in this, Mary?”
At first somewhat flustered at being singled out, Mary muttered: “Well, yes ... er ... yes ... now you mention it.”
Elenora prompted: “No need to be shy, Mary, for at some point or other we shall all be participating in events this weekend. Why not tell our friends how your own positive thoughts changed your life for good – not only for yourself, but also for your extended family and even for me.”
As Mary still hesitated, Elenora said: “Perhaps our guests would like to freshen their coffee, then we can settle down to hear your story.”
“Right, Mary, We’re ready to hear what you have to say on the subject of positive thought and your own experience of how spirit has changed your life.”
Brave as she was in so many ways in tackling life’s problems, as she looked at the expectant faces turned towards her, Mary felt she could easily take the coward’s way out and run for cover. However, she knew that spirit had been good to her and she should at least acknowledge the fact. As she started speaking the words seem to come of their own volition until almost without realising it she had told the group the extent of her own experiences.
“So, you see in all the years I was away from Ivylea, when my life was at its lowest ebb there was not a day but that I envisaged this beautiful house, Dunoon, and Argyll. I just knew that one day, when the time was right, spirit would arrange for me to return ... and that is exactly what happened.”
After a short silence a sceptic said: “A lovely story, of course, but do you mean to imply that we should let spirit lead our lives for us? I can’t say that I go along with that theory.”
“Spirit can point us in many directions,” Elenora said, “they can and will give warnings of pitfalls to be avoided, of hazards to be aware of, but that is where free will comes in – you, we can all go against our designated path in life if we so wish. I think now is a good time for some trance.”
In the course of Elenora’s trance state there were whispers from time to time.
“Oh, I don’t believe it. That’s my grandmother. I can even smell her lavender and moth balls.”
“Can you all see that bearded gentleman? Smell his clay pipe? It’s my Uncle Hamish.”
Later discussion brought out the fact that already people were doubting what, if anything, they had actually seen.
“A lot of rubbish, if you ask me. We imagined it.”
“Then how did we all see the same thing?
The original sceptic had his answer. “Mass hysteria, nothing more or less. Anyway, the rest of you can do as you please, but for me I’m off to bed. First thing tomorrow I’m getting out of this mad house and I want my money back. Dead folk appearing on Miss Patten’s face! Rubbish.”
Elenora’s voice stopped his departure. “Before you go, Mr West, allow me to make one thing clear. I am not selling anything. It does not matter to me whether or not you believe and, of course, you are free to come and go as and when you choose.”
“Fine, that’s all very well, but I’ve paid good money for all this mumbo-jumbo and I want my money back.”
“Mr West, you have paid me nothing for this supernatural experience. I do not charge for what I regard as a gift. What you have paid for is your bed and board, that is all. If you wish to leave earlier than planned, that is your prerogative and you will get a refund.”
As West dithered between his seat and the door Elenora said: “The same applies to the remainder of my guests. I am selling nothing. I have no axe to grind. The choice is yours – stay or go, believe or refuse to believe, it’s up to you. Now if you’ll excuse me, trancing has tired me out so I’ll bid you good night.”
Next morning when the guests assembled for breakfast there was one empty place at the table.
Another guest with a laugh remarked: “So Mr West has decided to part company with us.”
However, Mary said: “Yes, that’s the way it looks, but actually Mr West had an early breakfast and has gone for a walk along the shore. He said something about clearing his head after ghostly sightings in the night. Anyway he’s going to sit out the rest of the weekend with us.”
In the evening, Mr West was very tight-lipped about his ‘ghostly sightings’ He did admit to having witnessed a variety of strange lights dancing about on the lawn but dismissed the event as the result of having imbibed perhaps too heartily in his nightcap of Napoleon brandy.
The mystery of Mr West’s ‘sightings’ in the night added to rather than detracted from the ambience of the balance of the weekend. By the time the guests were assembling in time for the first ferry on the Monday morning they were all agreed that not only had it been a different sort of break, but it was one they would remember the rest of their lives.
Just as the guests were saying their final goodbyes Mr West, game to the last, turned to the company and said: “All right, I did see strange lights in the darkness outside, but now I come to think about them, those could only have come from the lighthouse. So the fact remains, not one single spirit manifestation did I see. Not one!”
Miss Patten smiled. “I seem to recall your mentioning the polite old servant in the hallway who greeted you on your arrival.”
Mr West nodded. “Yes, a pleasant old boy. Of course I saw him. So what?”
There was a general murmur of agreement as to how welcoming the elderly gentleman had been.
Miss Patten glanced round her guests to make sure she had their full attention.
“Did it not surprise any of you that you never met him anywhere else in the house? You have all seen spirit. Angus was a footman in my parents’ house long before I was born. He departed this earthly plane more than fifty years ago.”
Chapter Nineteen
With the fame of Elenora’s mediumship having spread far beyond the confines of Dunoon and Argyll there was scarcely a day or a weekend when there was not some seeker after spiritual enlightenment knocking on Ivylea’s front door in the hope of gaining an interview with Elenora.
Much as she was pleased that she was doing good work with her spirit friends, at the same time she could not help but notice one aspect of the situation which gradually dawned on her.
“Mary, you must have noticed that very few local people come here on spiritual matters,” she said one day.
Was this the time to tell Elenora about one recent visit, Mary wondered. As she dithered, she frowned.
“There’s something on your mind, Mary. Don’t deny it. You forget how closely attuned in thought we are. However, I have no intention of discussing anything with you out here in the hall with you clutching a vinegar-soaked chamois for the furniture. So, a pot of tea for two and a well filled plateful of your daughter’s little fairy cakes in the drawing room, if you please.”
“Yes,” Mary said, “one of those cakes is never enough.”
“Granny will have to look to her laurels or else young Elenor will soon be taking over from her in the kitchen.”
Settled in the drawing room Elenora said: “As always for the sake of all of in Ivylea please relieve your mind of whatever is troubling you.”
Before Mary could respond Elenora with a smile continued: “I take it that it’s not our own faithful-unto-death Archie who is the problem. Not up to his old tricks of trying to steal a kiss or two?”
Mary felt herself blush, fully conscious of how often now she found herself dreaming impossible dreams about the self-same Archie.
On seeing her discomfiture, Elenora mischievously said: “Aha! So, perhaps I have hit the nail on the head. After all, Archie’s a widower and you’re a widow. What with all the work he now does for us around the house would it
be any wonder if he was trying to regain some of his lost youth in the way of romantic dealings.”
“Elenora, please! Ye are embarrassing me talking of such things. No, my present worries are nothing to do with Archie. There was a man turned up at the kitchen door one day last week. It’s all rather strange really, especially since ye mentioned the absence of any locals at yer talks or sittings.”
“So this man was a local? I knew there was something about locals in the air.”
“It was Roderick Drummond, Ted’s brother, he fell out with Ted all those years ago when Ted first started to work here. Roderick never had any time for the wonderful psychic work ye do here ...”
“I see. This man has been bad-mouthing me, ridiculing the sittings and scaring some locals off coming within an inch of Ivylea – is that it?”
“It’s even worse, Elenora. He is actually calling you a fraud, a charlatan. According to him if you were a true psychic, a true predictor of future events not known to ordinary folk then not only could you have foretold the Ibrox Disaster, you should have, by fair means or foul, prevented Ted from going to Glasgow far less from going to Ibrox that fateful day.”
“I don’t believe it! Is that what he is saying around the town?”
“He was drunk and I tried to argue with him. I told him that you had tried to warn Ted, but he said that made matters even worse. If you actually knew of the danger and did nothing to prevent it then you are nothing less than a murderer.”
“So now, half the locals think I am a fraud and the other half think I have knowledge of future evils and don’t warn them.”
“But you did warn Ted. Ah remembered the exact words and repeated them to Ted not hours before he decided to go his own way and set off for Ibrox.”
“There you are then. That bears out what I have always told seekers after knowledge – free will always comes into play and if that means going in the face of warnings then so be it – that is the onward path chosen by that individual.”