“Lady Margaret’s ghost wished us to find them,” Cecily said in a rush.
His Grace’s eye widened, and an amused smile lifted his lips. “Tales of the ghosts inhabiting the castle abound. I have never set eyes on one. Surely this ghost would approach me?”
“I don’t know why Lady Margaret’s ghost chose us,” Harry said with a sinking feeling that he was failing. “But the specter led us to a small chamber where the bones lay undisturbed for hundreds of years.”
“Extraordinary!” the vicar exclaimed.
“Indeed, it is. How can you be sure no one has entered the chamber?” His Grace inquired. “Visitors crawl all over the castle every week. They hope to find valuables.”
“Lady Margaret’s jewels are still there,” Harry said.
The duke frowned. “Jewels? Did you bring them with you?”
“No. We thought it best to leave them there, Your Grace,” Cecily said, omitting the fact that the ghosts sent them scurrying away.
The duke stared at them. “Describe these jewels.”
“A splendid rope of pearls,” Harry said.
“And an unusual ring.” Cecily gave a slight shudder. “Still on the boney finger.”
His Grace raised his eyebrows. “What kind of ring?”
“We didn’t examine it,” Harry said. “But I believe it to have some sort of insignia or crest.”
“Good heaven,” the duke said, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. “Can you show me tomorrow?”
“That’s impossible, Your Grace. If I don’t catch the London train, I’ll lose my position with my accounting firm in the city.”
“What about you, Miss Dunstable?”
“I’m afraid not, Your Grace. My mother does not want me involved.”
“I can draw a map of the dungeon,” Harry said. “It might take some finding, as we became lost at one point, but once you find the small, wooden door with a rusty lock and key, you will find it.”
His Grace sighed. “Then I must content myself with that.”
“Once the skeleton is confirmed as Lady Margaret’s, we believe her remains should be interred with those of her family.”
“Well, if it proves to be Lady Margaret, that will be done,” the duke said. “You have my thanks and shall be rewarded.”
“We don’t want a reward, Your Grace,” Cecily said. “We only want Lady Margaret’s body to be at rest. Then she will be free.”
“Extraordinary,” the duke murmured. “Allow me to offer you food and drink at my house before your journey.”
“That is kind, Your Grace. But we must decline.” Harry doubted the duke believed in ghosts. He wasn’t so sure about the vicar. It didn’t matter, they had done what they’d been asked to do, and it was now out of their hands. He removed his watch from his waistcoat. Two o’clock. Cecily was late back to the shop, and he had scarcely enough time to catch his train. He feared he would miss it. And that meant he would be late returning to work, which could put an end to his career. “I’m afraid we must hurry. Miss Dunstable must return to the flower shop, and I have to catch the train.”
“That is no problem. My carriage will take you to the train station. First, please draw a map of the dungeon.”
After Harry sat at the desk and sketched a hasty description of their journey through the torture chamber to the small, locked door, the duke took it with a nod of thanks.
“My carriage is at your disposal,” he said before leaving the room.
The vicar went with them to where Harry had left his suitcase. “Should they find the bones to be as you say, it will be of enormous benefit to St. Mary’s. Thank you for bringing it to our attention. Your names will appear on a plaque, of course. And we’ll hold a ceremony.”
“Thank you, but I must decline, Vicar. We cannot allow our names to be mentioned. It will cause a scandal for Miss Dunstable.”
“Ah, I see. Very well, have a safe journey, Mr. Johnson, Miss Dunstable.”
