“Ah.” Miss Newport opened the balcony door and looked out, then closed it again. “All clear.”
“But—I was so sure I saw ... someone enter.”
“There, there, Miss Lane. No harm done.”
Miss Newport lay a comforting arm around her shoulders. “This place has a strange effect on people. Enough to give anyone nightmares. It’s no wonder you thought you saw something frightening. After all, a man recently died here.”
She shepherded her out the door. “You know, Miss Lane, you remind me of my sister.” Selina’s eyes abruptly filled with tears. “She had an imagination too. And so sweet and innocent.” Selina sniffed and swiped at the tears with her free hand. “Come, I’ll walk you to your room.”
There Rebecca bid her good night and closed the door, turning the key to lock it. But she was still not convinced she had imagined the figure.
Her gaze landed on her balcony door across the room. She hurried over and opened it, wincing at its creak. She stuck her head outside and looked at the balcony to the left of hers. It was empty, as Selina had said, although Rebecca thought she heard a metallic click of the door closing.
Or was she imagining things again?
A short while later, Mary came in to help her prepare for bed.
“I have news.” Mary’s eyes gleamed impishly, and she waggled her brows. “I saw your ghost. The abbess in black.”
“Just now?” Rebecca asked.
“No. This morning. After I left your room. I didn’t say anything, afraid Mr. Mayhew would think me mad and send me packing. But since you saw her too...”
Relief and confusion tangled within Rebecca. “I am glad I am not the only one who saw ... whoever it was, but—”
“Oh, I know who it was.” Mary’s tone was matter-of-fact. “I didn’t guess straightaway. At first I thought it really was a ghost. But her veil slipped for just a moment before she replaced it. Guess who?”
Rebecca opened her mouth to wager a guess, but before she could, Mary blurted, “Miss Newport!”
Incredulity struck. She had just seen the “abbess” and Miss Newport within seconds of each other. It couldn’t be.
Likely noticing her silent frown, Mary went on, “She is an actress, I hear, so it’s not so surprising. Probably playing a trick on someone.”
“Did she see you?” Rebecca asked. “Know that you saw her?”
Mary shook her head. “I don’t think so. I was coming down the night stair when she came out of the chapel. Gave me a turn, I can tell you, seeing that shrouded figure comin’ out of there of all places. But then I glimpsed her face and felt a world better.”
“I can imagine.”
Rebecca wasn’t sure what she felt besides bewildered. Were there two “ghosts”? What on earth was going on?
20
On Monday morning, Mr. Smith reconvened the coroner’s inquest in the Swanford Abbey coffee room. Frederick attended, eager to hear the autopsy report.
“As you know,” Smith said, “the body of Ambrose Oliver was taken to an operating theatre in Worcester, where a postmortem was performed. I received the results.” He lifted a signed document and then summarized, “Using the Rose and Metzger methods, no evidence of poisoning was detected, nor was there any sign of inflammation or damage to the internal organs beyond what is normal for a man of his age and corpulence. The surgeon, Mr. Brown, concludes that Ambrose Oliver was killed by a blow to his cranium and the subsequent trauma to his brain.”
He sent Frederick a smug look. “As we originally thought.”
Relief and uncertainty wrestled within. Frederick knew he should be relieved for Rebecca’s sake, especially, but something was still nagging him.
The coroner faced the jurors and asked, “Do you need to retire?”
The foreman replied, “I don’t think that necessary, your honor.”
The jury talked among themselves for a few minutes, quickly agreeing on a verdict, which was duly noted and relayed to the coroner.
Smith nodded and pronounced, “The jury has reached a verdict of unlawful killing by person or persons unknown.”
