"Yes, who?" Walter persisted, putting the manager on the spot. "If a place is haunted, stands to reason someone is doing the haunting, now don't it?"
Whipple's blush increased as he said stiffly, "I really wouldn't know, Lord Keats. I don't give much credence to peasant superstition."
"Nor does it matter," Christopher added. "There are no ghosts here."
Walter sighed. "You're such a stick, Kit. If my home had history, as in the blood and gore type, I'd bloody well want to know it."
"I don't consider this my home, Walter."
"Whyever not?"
Christopher gave a careless shrug. "The town house in London has always been my home. This place is just a place—a chore."
David Rutherford, not as plump in the pockets as his two friends, shook his head. "Who but Kit would consider a place like this just a place. It does look a bit drab, I'll allow, but it's got such potential."
David, at thirty, wasn't quite as bored yet with life as Christopher was at thirty-two. He was handsome by any standards with his black hair and very light blue eyes, and most of his interests these days were centered around women, though he was game to try anything new, and especially anything that sounded the least bit adventurous or dangerous.
Christopher wished he felt the same, but he had developed a strange ennui this last year and couldn't seem to find any interest in anything. He had come to realize that he was bored with all aspects of his life. It was a boredom that was beginning to weigh heavily on his mind.
With his parents dying when he was quite young, and having no other relatives, he had been raised by the family solicitor and servants, who perhaps gave him a different outlook on things. He did not find amusing what his friends did. Actually, he found very little about his life amusing anymore, which was why his boredom had become so noticeable.
"Whatever potential Haverston has would depend on time and inclination," Christopher replied tiredly.
"You've got the time," Walter pointed out. "So it must be lack of inclination."
"Exactly," Christopher said with a pointed look that he hoped would end the discussion, but just to be sure, he added, "Now, if you two don't mind, I do have work to do here. I'd like to return to London before autumn."
Since that season was a good month away, his sarcasm was duly noted and the two younger gentlemen exchanged aggrieved looks and got back to their gossiping. But Christopher no sooner glanced down at the next entry in the estate books when the butler arrived to announce some unexpected visitors from Havers Town.
The mayor, the Reverend Biggs, and Mr. Stanley, oldest member of Havers's town council, had each shown up to welcome Christopher to the "neighborhood" on his first trip to Haverston several years ago. He had seen none of these men again, however, since there had been no occasion to visit the nearby town when he was in residence, and he couldn't imagine what would bring them to Haverston again, particularly so late of an evening. They didn't leave him guessing, though, got right to the point of their visit.
"We were invaded today, Lord Malory."
"By a bunch of ungodly thieves and sellers of sin," Reverend Biggs said most indignantly.
Walter latched on to the word "ungodly," asking, "These are different from Godly thieves, I take it?"
He was being sarcastic, but the good reverend took him seriously instead, answering stiffly, "Heathens usually are, m'lord."
David, however, had perked up considerably at the mention of sin. "What kind of sin were they selling?"
But Christopher, annoyed at yet another interruption to his chore, wanted to know, "Why do you bring this matter to me? Why didn't you just have these criminals arrested?"
"Because they weren't caught stealing. They are very clever, these heathens."
Christopher impatiently waved that aside, since his question still hadn't been answered. "As mayor, you can just ask them to leave your good town, so I repeat, why do you bring this matter to me?"
"Because the Gypsies aren't staying in our town, Lord Malory, they are camping on your property, where we have no jurisdiction."
"Gypsies? Oh, that kind of sin," David said with a chuckle that earned him a disapproving frown from the reverend.
"So I take it you want me to ask them to leave?" Christopher said.
"Course he does, Kit. And Walter and I will come along to assist you. Couldn't let you go alone, now could we? Never think it."
Christopher rolled his eyes. His friends had found something to entertain themselves, after all, and by the look of them both, were quite looking forward to it.
"I've never seen so many married men in one place," Anastasia said in complete disgust as she joined her grandmother at their campfire that night. "For such a nice-sized town, it was sadly lacking for our purpose, Gran. I couldn't find a single man who wasn't either too old, too young, or too—unacceptable.
