“Yes. What better way to do it than to throw a party?” Edwin smiled. “I thought you all might like the chance to do some ghost-hunting with me and earn a bit of prize money.”
Mr. Fairbanks’s eyes widened.
“Oh, yes. Did I forget to mention? Whoever stays the night here, the entire night, will receive one hundred pounds tomorrow morning. But of course, you will have to stay the entire time. Otherwise, you won’t receive a cent.”
“But ghosts aren’t real,” Mr. Fairbanks said.
“Aren’t they?” Miss Eagle asked.
“I think it’s a jolly good idea,” Mr. Ludlow said.
“Bit of an expensive party,” Mrs. Hemlock said.
Violet surveyed the others. Could her uncle have been right? Could one of the people here be wanting to kill him? To do him harm? She couldn’t be sure. But she loved her uncle and would do her utmost to help him, even if it just meant surviving the night.
Violet spotted the group’s dubious looks. “I’m going to stay,” she said.
“Ah, yes, that is the first question,” Uncle Edwin said. “Who would like to stay, and who wishes to go? For anyone who does not wish to stay the night, there is a carriage outside waiting to take them to the nearest inn.”
Miss Eagle gazed at Uncle Edwin with wide eyes and a shy smile, whilst Mrs. Hemlock eyed both Mr. Ludlow and Mr. Fairbanks.
Uncle Edwin cleared his throat. “If you do wish to stay the night and help me prove there are no ghosts here, then you will each receive one hundred pounds.”
People paused. Mr. Ludlow whistled. “That’s a lot of money.”
“What happens if some of us leave and others stay?” Mrs. Hemlock asked. “Does that mean we’ll get the money the others forfeited?”
Edwin thought on this. “Yes, I suppose so. The five hundred pounds will be divided equally between you.”
Violet swallowed. What would prevent one of the guests from encouraging or scaring the others enough to leave to take their share of the prize money? Violet crossed her arms over her chest, earning a curious look from Mr. Fairbanks.
His blue eyes were kind, she decided. His complexion was fair and comely, with dusky, soft-blond hair that was combed back into waves, but it had the suggestion that when he ran his hands through it, the smart waves would become unruly. Violet idly wondered what it would be like to run her hands through his hair and blushed.
“Miss Thorn? Are you well?” Mr. Ludlow asked.
The others looked at her.
“Quite well, thank you,” she said, avoiding Mr. Fairbanks’s eyes.
Uncle Edwin checked the small timepiece that hung from an inner pocket in his coat. “It is getting late. If anyone does wish to go, please say so now, or forever hold your peace.” He looked at each guest in turn, appraising them.
At that moment, there was a high, whistling moan that sent shivers down the spines of the party. Miss Eagle shrieked andclutched her locket, Mrs. Hemlock froze, whilst Violet gripped the arms of her large seat.
“What was that?” Mr. Ludlow asked, looking around wildly.
“It was nothing,” Uncle Edwin said. “Merely the sounds of an old, creaking house.”
“Mr. Fairbanks, I’m scared,” Miss Eagle said, hurrying to his side.
Mr. Fairbanks glanced at her and said, “I think it was just the wind.”
“Maybe it was the ghost,” Violet added.
Mrs. Hemlock shot Violet a petty look. “I imagine Miss Thorn knows all about ghosts.”
Violet glanced at her. “What do you mean?”
Mrs. Hemlock’s mouth curved into a snide smile. “You probably do a lot of reading in your spare time. For a young woman like you without a beau, or any hint of one, I imagine you’re quite the authority on the supernatural.” She giggled.
