by K E O'Connor
“Note to self, do not throw away the expensive antiques.” I grinned as I carefully lifted out the silverware and set it on top of the cabinet.
I’d been around plenty of antiques and was pretty confident I could spot a fake from a forgery, so long as it wasn’t too obscure. When you’re around rare things for a while, you get a sense of what was genuine. There were little tell-tale signs that gave away fakes. Real silver often has specific hallmarks and is usually quite heavy. When you rapped a knuckle on it, it also made a certain sound.
I set to work laying out the silver. I took pictures of each item then I assessed them for damage. Most of it looked to be in great condition.
I opened my laptop and created a list of items in a spreadsheet and attached a link to each photograph.
Flipper nudged me with his nose to get my attention.
While I’d been working, he’d been wandering around the great hall, checking out the corners and the best places to have a nap.
The entrance to the turret was closed, so there was no way he could get up there and cause more mischief.
I stroked his head. “There’s no chance you’re getting that door open.” I tickled his chin, but that didn’t placate him. Flipper nudged me again.
I looked around and noticed we’d been joined by the ghost in the chain mail.
“Don’t worry. I’m not stealing any of this,” I said to him.
He gave a shrug, suggesting the silver didn’t interest him.
“Is any of this yours?”
The ghost shook his head.
“You must have been here a long time,” I said quietly. “Was this once your home?”
Another shake of the head.
“You worked here?”
He nodded.
“Did you protect a king or queen?” The idea sounded romantic to me. He could have been a protector of royalty, sworn to forsake his own happiness to ensure they remained safe.
He waved a hand from side to side as if I was close but didn’t win the cigar. I guessed that meant he wasn’t as noble as I’d thought.
“You can help with this inventory if you like. You must know a lot about all the things in the castle, since you’ve been living here such a long time.”
He drifted closer to the silver. I was surprised when he lifted a silver plate and spun it in the air.
This was a strong ghost if he could move heavy, solid objects. “That’s impressive. What else can you do?”
His smile turned sly before he drifted to the open stone fireplace. It was stacked with logs ready for burning, despite no one needing a fire in the middle of summer. The ghost vanished inside the chimney. A second later, a blast of flame shot up it.
I fell backwards and landed on the floor. “Wow! That’s amazing. You must have created friction among the logs, or are you hiding matches in your pants?”
The ghost returned and twirled around the chimney, a smile on his face.
“You’d better kill those flames. People will start asking questions about how I got the fire going. Plus, I don’t want to overheat when I’m working.”
The ghost leaned closer to the flames and seemed to suck them inside of him, killing the fire.
He really was impressive. I needed to make sure I kept on his good side. I did not want to make an enemy of a ghost who could light fires and throw heavy objects.
“You can empty that cabinet over there while I deal with this silver,” I said. “That will keep you busy if you’re looking for something to do.”
His smile seemed affectionate as he nodded at me before drifting to the cabinet and pulling the doors open. I watched him for a moment as he carefully pulled out each piece of silver.
“It’s nice to have someone to work alongside,” I said. “Helen doesn’t let me anywhere near the kitchen. She’s always afraid I will burn something. She’s usually right.”
The ghost nodded at Flipper and raised his eyebrows.
“Flipper is great company, but the conversation is not up to much.” Flipper turned his back on me and walked over to the ghost. “Mind you, I’m the one doing all the talking here as well.”
The ghost smiled and shrugged. When he’d finished emptying the cabinet, he drifted to the coat of arms hanging on the wall. It showed two swords crossed over each other and a lion in the center. His fingers went to the swords, and he stroked each one in turn.
“You have a real thing about swords,” I said. “Is yours somewhere in the castle?”
His eyes widened, and he shot over to me, nodding as he did so.
“Oh! I think I get it. Your sword is in this castle, and you’re not happy about it.”
He nodded again, his eyes bright with excitement.
“I’m not sure what I can do to help you with that. I can hardly go around stealing the family heirlooms.”
His smile faded.
“Or do you think it’s your heirloom, and it shouldn’t be in this castle?”
He nodded and pointed to the doorway.
I paused from my sorting of the silver. “If I find out which sword was yours, what would you want me to do with it?”
He pointed out the window.
“You want it taken outside?”
He mimed digging in the ground with a shovel.
I groaned. “I can’t bury you with your sword. I’ve no idea where your body is.”
The ghost tugged on my sleeve, trying to get me to follow him.
“No! Not now. Even if you did take me to the place you’re buried, I can’t dig you up, and I can’t steal a sword from this castle. You’ll have to manage without it. It’s not like you need it to fight in the afterlife.” At least, I hoped he didn’t. I imagined the afterlife to be a friendly, peaceful sort of place, where people looked out for each other and didn’t stab each other in the backs with long swords.
His shoulders slumped, and his image faded.
“I am sorry. It must be frustrating seeing something you love, yet you can’t have it by your side. But it’s serving a purpose being here. People get to see it every day and appreciate it.”
His mouth twisted, and he scowled at me. It looked like he didn’t agree.
“Hello there. Are you Lorna?”
I turned as a man pushed himself through the doorway of the great hall in a wheelchair.
I dusted off my hands and stood before walking over to him. “That’s right. You must be Countess Ponsonby’s husband.”
“That’s me.” He extended a hand for me to shake. “Call me Ralph, no need for any stuffy titles.”
I nodded and smiled at him. He didn’t look well. His skin was so pale I could see the veins beneath it, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His cheeks were also sunken and hollow as if he hadn’t had a decent meal in months.
“I see you’re making a start on our silver hoard.” Ralph pushed his wheelchair closer to the cabinet. “We’ve got some cracking stuff here.”
“It’s all lovely,” I said. “It will be difficult to choose the best pieces to keep.”
“I’d keep it all, but Charlotte insists we don’t need it. She has a point. Much of it has been hidden in cupboards for years. Why not let somebody else enjoy it?”
“Do you have any favorite pieces?” I asked. “I’ll make sure to keep those.”
He lifted a silver chalice. “I acquired this at the first auction I went to. I was only twenty at the time and full of energy. I used to love hunting treasure. I’d get up at the crack of dawn and head out for the day to examine the finds and see what I could bid on.”
“Your wife said you used to do archeological excavations as well,” I said. “Did you ever find anything there?”
“A lot of broken bits of Roman pottery. The Romans seemed to love throwing things like that away. Bits of clay pipe too. On a couple of sites, I found flints and ax heads. Those were quite exciting. I’ve been meaning to set up a prehistoric display case.” He tapped the wheels of his chair. “I don’t have much energy to do things like t
hat now.”
“If you ever need any help with that sort of thing, just ask. I’d love to assist. It will make a change from paperwork and spreadsheets.”
“I might hold you to that,” said Ralph. “It will be good to see some of the old bits on display.”
I noticed the ghost had drifted away, not seeming interested in what we had to say. He was studying the coat of arms again. I hoped he wouldn’t be too belligerent about wanting me to return his sword. I couldn’t steal a sword from the family.
“Did you collect all the swords and suits of armor, as well?” I pointed to the coat of arms on the wall.
“Oh, yes! Those fascinate me. I have documented information about their origins. Coats of arms originate from Greek and Roman times. Soldiers would have the insignias on their shields. It wasn’t until the thirteenth century that families started using them to depict their social standing and class.”
“I noticed some of the shields also have insignias.”
This comment got the ghost’s interest. He returned to my side, watching Ralph closely.
“That’s right, well-spotted. If you think about it, it makes sense. Someone encased in armor would be impossible to identify. They used the insignias to let people know who they were. I can tell you all about them if you’re interested.”
“Ralph!” Charlotte dashed into the hall. “I thought I heard your voice. What are you doing out of bed?”
“I was bored, my love. I heard noises down here and decided to investigate.” He smiled at me. “I thought Lorna might be a burglar.”
Charlotte placed a hand against his forehead as if checking his temperature. “Don’t overdo things.”
“As if I could with you looking out for me.” He grabbed her hand and kissed the back of it. “I was getting to know Lorna.”
“Lorna doesn’t want to be distracted by you. She’s got a lot of work to do.” Charlotte nodded at me. “Sorry about this.”
“It’s not a problem,” I said. “I was glad to have his input. I don’t want to get rid of anything I shouldn’t.”
“Trust me, if you did, we most likely wouldn’t notice. We’ve got too many things. If I trip over another dusty old pot or broken antique, I’ll throw the lot in a skip.”
“No, you won’t.” Ralph placed a hand on Charlotte’s arm.
She sighed. “No, I wouldn’t. But we need to shift some of it and quickly.”
Maybe they wouldn’t miss a sword going missing after all if they were so keen on getting rid of so many antiques.
“Let me get you back to your room,” said Charlotte. “The doctor is coming later. He’ll be cross if you’ve stressed yourself.”
“My dear, I got myself dressed, sat in a chair, and then used the stair lift. That’s not hard work.”
“You’re still getting over a chest infection,” said Charlotte. “You need time to recover.”
“I’m fine. Don’t fuss.” A flash of irritation crossed Ralph’s face. “Thank you for your concern. I want some fresh air then I’ll return to my room.”
“I’ll come with you.” Charlotte kept up with Ralph as he pushed his chair toward the door.
“There’s no need. Please, do not coddle me.”
“I’m your wife. I’m supposed to coddle.” Her smile was indulgent as she grabbed the back of Ralph’s chair. “We’ll leave you to it, Lorna. Any problems, you come find me.”
“Thanks. I will do.” I watched as they headed out of the great hall together. There was clearly affection between them, but Ralph was right; Charlotte fussed too much. It must be stifling living with that every day.
I turned to speak to the ghost, but he had gone.
I shrugged and focused on the silver. I didn’t think I could help reunite him with his sword, no matter how much he wanted it. But I would like to know more about him. Maybe there was another way I could help this ghost, without resorting to theft.
Chapter 5
“I met the Countess’s husband today, Ralph.” I sat at the kitchen table while Helen finished serving our dinner. We were having a choux pastry starter, filled with feta cheese and parsley. It wasn’t our normal dinner, but Helen was testing recipes, thinking she would change the wedding menu.
I didn’t mind all the experimentation. I just hoped Helen didn’t actually change what she’d ordered. There was no way she could change the food without creating major headaches for the catering team and Marjorie.
“What’s he like?” She settled at the table opposite me.
“He’s sick,” I said. “He didn’t look well at all. He’s cheerful enough, though. And he’s an expert in all things antique.”
“The poor guy,” said Helen. “It must be horrible, feeling trapped in your bedroom and not well enough to get out and about on your own.”
“He’s older than Charlotte, as well.”
“I knew there was a bit of an age difference.”
“I’d say a good fifteen years.”
Helen chewed on her pastry. “What do you think of this?”
“It’s delicious, as is everything you make.”
“It needs extra seasoning. Maybe some black pepper?”
“It’s perfect as it is. As is your wedding menu, the one you’re sticking to and not making any changes to at the last minute.”
Helen’s nose wrinkled. “You’re sure it’s not too boring?”
“How can bay scallops with warm radish toast and butter poached lobster be boring? And then there’s the bass with almond cream, yam noodles, and ricotta squash. Oh, and the roasted fingerling potatoes. What else am I forgetting?”
Helen shrugged. “The five different desserts?”
“Of course! Turkish coffee pound cake, homemade raspberry sorbet with a fresh mint drizzle, partisan macaroons. I forget the last two.”
“Triple chocolate brownies made to my own recipe and salted caramel ice cream with an espresso drizzle.”
“Which sounds like food from heaven to me. Don’t change a thing.”
“You’re happy with anything, so long as somebody else cooks it for you.”
I didn’t disagree. “Really, you don’t need to change anything with the food.”
“I am wondering about an extra tier on the wedding cake.”
“No! No extra tiers. You’ve already got four. Who can eat that much cake?”
Helen grinned. “You and me.”
I laughed as I finished the starter. “Okay, but this is your wedding cake. I’m not going to be able to gorge myself on it. That’s for you and Gunner.”
“He doesn’t need too much cake. I need to make sure he keeps his six-pack.”
“He’ll just have to work out harder in the gym. Let’s try the next course. What is it?”
“Japanese salted salmon.”
“That sounds great.”
“I was thinking—”
“I hate it when you say that.”
Helen glared at me. “There’s still a couple of weeks until the wedding.”
“I know that. I have it penciled on my calendar when you’re getting married. I don’t want to forget to turn up and get an angry phone call from you during the reception asking where I am.”
“Hilarious. As if I’d let you do that. You have to make sure I’m ready on time. No, I was wondering, though, do you think I should lose a bit of weight before the big day?”
I choked on the water I’d taken a sip of. “Absolutely not!”
“Brides always diet before they get married. I want to make sure my dress fits me perfectly.”
I hid my face in my hands. “You’ve had the final fitting. You’re not going to put any weight on between now and then. You also don’t want to lose any weight. Your figure is fabulous. Gunner loves your curves. Don’t go starving yourself on celery and instant soup or you’ll be miserable. Even more so when it comes to the big day and your dress no longer fits because you’ve dieted away your boobs.”
“I don’t want to lose my girls.” She patted her chest
. “But I could just lose a few pounds. If I stopped eating breakfast, that would save me some calories.”
“No chance. If you try to diet, I’m going to force feed you cake. There’s no way I’m going to have you miserable and hungry for the next two weeks.”
Helen carried over the salmon. “It was just a thought. It’s what all brides do.”
“Then you be different. That way, you’ll be a happy bride. Your dress will fit perfectly, and I won’t have to put up with your stomach grumbling all the time and you crunching celery in my ear.”
Helen sat down. “Maybe you’re right. Gunner is always saying he loves my figure. I don’t want him to be disappointed on the first night of our honeymoon.”
“Please, keep the details of your love life with Gunner to yourself.” I stabbed at the salmon.
Helen’s eyes twinkled. “Are you sure I can’t share one tiny detail with you? He has this trick with his fingers—”
I dropped my fork and stuck my fingers in my ears. “No!”
She yanked my hands down. “I’m teasing.”
I glared at her. Helen did love to overshare. I wouldn’t put it past her to reveal what Gunner did with his magic fingers.
A movement outside the kitchen window had me peering into the garden. It was getting gloomy, so I couldn’t see who was creeping around out there.
The person moved backwards and forwards, passing the window a couple of times as if they were looking for something.
“What’s wrong with you?” Helen turned in her seat and looked outside.
“Somebody is out there,” I said.
“It might be someone from the family or maybe Will.”
“It’s a woman.”
“Tilly?”
“I don’t think so.” I stood from my seat and walked to the back door. I opened it and jumped back as I came nose to nose with our mystery guest.
A redheaded woman glared at me. “Who are you?”
“Shouldn’t I be asking you that since you’re in my garden?”
She snorted. “This isn’t your garden. You don’t live here.”
“I do now,” I said.