“Would you care for a scone, Mrs. Dunstable,” his mother said hastily, offering her the plate. “Cook makes the most featherlight ones.”
Mrs. Dunstable squared her shoulders. “No, thank you.”
“I believe I will.” Harry had eaten the loaded plate of food within minutes of his mother placing it before him, but he still felt peckish. He offered the plate to Cecily. “The jam is very good. Shall I pass you the cream?”
Cecily shook her head, her blue eyes dark with worry. “No, I won’t have one, thank you, Harry, er, Mr. Johnson.”
“You have eaten?” he asked.
“No… I…” She glanced at her mother.
Harry sent a frowning glance in Mrs. Dunstable’s direction. “But you have had nothing to eat since luncheon yesterday, Miss Dunstable. Why are you still wearing your soiled coat?”
“Harrison!” his father boomed.
But Mrs. Dunstable’s glare faded to one of dismay. While she didn’t believe a word he said, she obviously didn’t like to be accused of neglect. She stood. “This has been a terrible shock. Cecily has always been a good daughter. We shall go home, Cecily. There is nothing further to be said.”
Harry’s father rose when she did. “Naturally, you are upset by what has happened,” he said. “But my son is as honest as the day is long. Whatever happened up at the castle, I believe him when he says he and your daughter were accidentally shut inside. Spending the night there, it would be easy to imagine a ghost, especially after finding the skeleton. This certainly is a regrettable occurrence. It’s my belief that if we allow the matter to drop, it will pass without creating village gossip, and we can forget all about it.”
Harry glanced at him, both surprised and grateful. His father didn’t believe in ghosts, but he stood up for him.
His mother ushered Mrs. Dunstable and Cecily to the door. Then, once they departed, Mother gave Harry a sad glance before she disappeared into the kitchen.
“Father, surely you do see that I must alert the authorities to the skeleton,” Harry said.
His father shrugged. “It’s of archeological interest. Hundreds of years old. Best the bones are left where they are. You can advise the proper authorities when you return to London. Neither the vicar nor the magistrate should deal with this.”
“But they will take the bones away to gather dust in some university. I promised to ensure a proper burial in the Pomeroy vault.”
Father sighed. “Promised who?”
He almost groaned. “Lady Margaret Pomeroy’s ghost.”
“You still hold to that story? Are you sure you didn’t fall asleep and dream it, Harry?”
“I didn’t close my eyes. It’s not a story. It happened.”
“You do understand that if you proceed with this, it will be of great interest to everyone in the village. Cecily’s reputation would suffer.”
“Nevertheless, it must be done. Cecily will agree with me.”
“You are a grown man of twenty-five, therefore, I cannot prevent you. I could beg you not to, but I see it will be a waste of time.” He strode to his study door and turned. “But please think about what bringing this matter before the village will mean to your lives. Many will find it difficult to believe you. And others won’t be kind.” He paused. “Do you expect Cecily to remain here and endure the gossip?”
“I intend to speak to her about it,” Harry said firmly.
“I doubt Mrs. Dunstable will allow you anywhere near the girl. Surely you don’t blame her?”
“I suppose not. But, Father, I’ve become very fond of her. We plan to write to each other.”
His father nodded. “Of course, but I must warn you. Mrs. Dunstable intends to keep Cecily at home.”
Harry wasn’t sure what that meant. But surely she could not stop them writing?
“I must catch the train back to London tomorrow afternoon, Father. I hope you and Mother have not been too disturbed by what has happened.”
“We shall survive, Harry. I only hope you have decided to be sensible.”
Harry went upstairs. After he bathed and changed, he would find a way to see her.
