“What do you mean?”
“Sometimes a soul gets confused, especially if they were wrenched out of this world unexpectedly. Now, I’ve never seen anything meself, but I’ve felt things. A sadness. It hangs over this house at times. Not always. Things only get a bit stirred up, like the dust in quiet corners, and the veil parts a wee bit. You seem to be the one doing the stirring this time.”
Eliza thought for a moment, remembering the first night she’d visited Havenwood Manor and the inexplicable sense of loss she’d felt. “Yes, I think I know what you mean. I’ve felt the sadness you speak of, only I’d no idea why.”
“This spirit must feel a kinship to ye, m’lady.”
“Then why couldn’t it bekinderabout telling me? Instead of rapping all over the walls and staring at me in my bed? I don’t know if I have the fortitude for communion with spirits. The only sort of spirits I fancy come in a bottle.” She dug her fingers through her hair, tugging at her tight scalp. “I could certainly do with a drink right now.”
Shirley winked. “I’ve a wee flask, just here in my dresser. I sneak a tipple of your husband’s fine Oban whisky now and again.”
Eliza gave a conspiratorial grin. “Care to share?”
Muzzy-headed, both inside and out, Eliza woke in Shirley’s narrow bed, her neck stiff from the lumpy pillows and hard mattress. The little housekeeper had already gone from the darkened, tiny room—her cheerful banter rippling from the kitchen.
Eliza crept into the great hall, ducking to the side of the stairs as Malcolm walked out onto the landing. So, he had come home early after all. The dressing-down she’d receive if he found she’d spent the night in Shirley’s quarters was something neither her head nor her nerves could bear at the moment.
“Good morning, Turner.” Malcolm’s voice was boisterous, excited. “I’ve news for her ladyship. Please go upstairs and wake her. I’d have her company at breakfast before I go.”
Merde.
“Very good, m’lord.”
Eliza listened as Turner trudged up the stairs. She waited for his knock on her door, hoping he wouldn’t turn to look back over the gallery, and tiptoed through the open foyer to the library, careful to avoid crossing in front of the morning room. She peeked through a crack in the pocket doors and saw Turner walk across the landing and back down the stairs.
“I’m afraid her ladyship is not in her chambers, sir,” he called, the hint of concern in his voice endearing.
“What?” Malcolm asked, incredulous.
Eliza pushed through the doorway, pulling her dressing gown tight over her nightdress. She glanced at herself in the full-length mirror in the foyer, and immediately wished she hadn’t. She looked like a sea witch—her hair standing out from her head in tangled, ropy knots.
“I’m here, husband,” she called, sweeping into the morning room. “I was in the library. I’d no idea you were already home.”
“Oh?” Malcolm turned in his chair at the sound of her voice, his eyebrows arching skyward when he saw her. “Oh, my.”
“I regret my appearance isn’t to your liking ... I did not sleep well.”
“I can see,” he said, his eyes trailing over her messy curls and the puffy circles beneath her eyes. A single feather floated to the floor, garnered, no doubt, from Shirley’s sad pillow. “Well. At any rate, please join me.”
Eliza sat at the breakfast table and fiddled with the crocheted doily at its center, relieved when Shirley swung through with coffee and a steaming plate of scrambled eggs. She gave a sly smile to Eliza before going back to the kitchen.
“I thought I’d share the good news. Work on the south wing will begin this very week.” Malcolm beamed. “I hope you’re as excited as I am.”
“Certainly,” Eliza said. “It will be good to have full use of the house.”
“Well ...” Malcolm’s lips pursed.
“What?”
“It’s quite a lot to open up the entire house. More than Mrs.Duncan can handle on her own.”
“Then we should hire more staff. Mrs.Duncan is overworked as it is, being both cook and housekeeper. There’s plenty of room in the maids’ barracks for at least two chambermaids. And while we’re at it, we should look into remodeling the servants’ quarters.”
“That’s being overly charitable, wouldn’t you say?”
“What would be wrong with a bit of charity? A well-cared-for staff is better suited to serving their masters, don’t you think? Have you seen the state of their mattresses?”
“Yes, but all of that business gets expensive, darling.”
