Chapter 13
The smell of coffee and freshly baked bread wafted through Birdie’s nose. Her stomach growled.
The new cook had prepared an excellent breakfast with strong coffee, fresh bread, and eggs.
The table was set for two people, but only she was present.
“Good morning, Higgins,” she said cheerfully as the old man doddered towards her with the coffeepot. She lifted her cup quickly before he poured the coffee over her eggs. “That will be all right, Higgins.” She took the pot from him before he dripped it all over the carpet.
“Has the duke had breakfast yet?” she asked.
He squinted at her. “He must be in bed?”
“No. I asked whether he’s broken his fast.” She made an eating motion with her hand.
“Yes, he has a broken past,” Higgins muttered.
Birdie gave up. “Say, Higgins, where do you sleep?” She pointed at him, and then placed both hands under her head, then lifted her shoulders and arms.
“What, me? Where I sleep? I sleep outside in the old guardroom.”
“But why?”
“Why?”
“There’s more than enough room here!” she shouted that so loudly that he understood.
“Yes, yes. But there are also ghosts.”
Birdie shook her head impatiently. “No, there are not. Silly boys’ tricks.” She took him outside and showed him the sheet and the candle that she’d found the other night. “Here’s your ghost. Someone is playing a trick on us.”
Higgins scratched his head. “This is the ghost of Dunross castle?”
“It appears so, Higgins. You do not know who might be behind this?”
“Someone who is up to no good,” he muttered. “There are ghosts a-plenty here. No point in creating new ones.”
“Entirely my point, Higgins. The question remains, who would do this? And why?”
A look of alertness flashed through his watery eyes. “Someone who is trying to harm the duke.”
“The duke!” Now, this was a new thought. Was this entire thing not aimed at Birdie, after all? “With this”––Birdie gestured at the sheet––“a child’s prank?”
“Aye. It may also be a child.”
Did Higgins have a point? Was the culprit a child? For it was certainly childish, no doubt about that.
“Come with me.” She took him by the elbow and walked him down the stairs to the servants’ hall. For the first time, the kitchen was full of life. It steamed, gurgled, bubbled and hissed. Mrs Gowan chopped, and a girl named Annie peeled vegetables. There was a perfectly respectable and thoroughly cleaned butler’s room and pantry, made ready by the women the other day. It contained a simple but clean bed and a wardrobe.
“It is so much better here, don’t you agree? It is also warmer here than outside.”
Higgins scratched his head again. “You want me to sleep here?”
“Yes. And I want you to stop locking us in while you are outside.”
“The old duke swore the place was haunted,” he muttered. “Didn’t come here often.”
“What kind of man was he?” Perhaps she could get some information out of him. He didn’t understand what she’d said and continued to ramble on.
