Gus snatched his hat from his head. “I surely am sorry, then, for delivering what is some horrible news so bluntly. In my defense, though, when you hired me to take you to this address, I assumed you’d traveled here to finally get Miss Ottilie’s affairs settled.”
“We were unaware there was anything that needed to besettled, but I’ll look right into the matter after I have an opportunity to track down my aunt’s solicitor.”
“Then you’re still plannin’ on continuing with what I assume is some type of holiday, even after learning your aunt is haunting the place?” Gus asked.
“We’re not here on holiday” was all Drusilla was able to get out of her mouth before the door to the hired hack suddenly flew open and her mother stepped out, the very sight of her causing Gus to take a few stumbling steps backward.
It wasn’t exactly unexpected that Gus would take issue with her mother, Irma Merriweather, especially since she was dressed head to toe in widow’s weeds and had also thrown on a floor-length weeping veil at some point while she’d been waiting in the carriage.
“Did I overhear correctly that the house we’re supposed to live in is haunted?” were the first words out of Irma’s mouth.
Drusilla refused a sigh. “I believe that’s simply speculation from the locals at this point.”
Irma peered through her netting at the castle. “Who’s haunting it?”
“Miss Ottilie,” Gus supplied before Drusilla could stop him, which had her mother raising a hand to her throat.
“Ottilie’s dead?”
“That would fall under the whole speculation business as well,” Drusilla muttered.
Irma ignored that as she shoved up her veil and settled her gaze on Gus. “Why do you think Ottilie’s dead?”
Gus rubbed a hand over a chin that sported more than a day’s worth of stubble. “I’m just repeating what Norbert told me. According to him, there weren’t any signs of hauntings while Miss Ottilie was in residence, but that changed some months after she left Chicago.”
“What type of hauntings began at that point?” Irma pressed.
“From what I’ve heard, the staff kept waking up to strangenoises,” Gus said. “When they’d go to investigate, no one was ever found, but furniture was often rearranged, messages were scrawled onto the mirrors with soot from the fireplaces, and windows that had been locked the night before were wide open.”
“Why did the staff conclude it was Ottilie haunting the place?”
Gus gave his chin another rub. “Norbert told me the messages scrawled on the mirrors seemed to be written in Miss Ottilie’s hand, as she was known to make a very distinctiveS. He also said the messages stated things like ‘keep your feet off the sofa,’ ‘don’t forget to water the roses,’ and ‘make sure to polish the silver every two weeks’—a telling message since Norbert mentioned that the butler, Bentley, neglected to regularly attend to that task after Miss Ottilie left.”
Irma drew in a sharp breath. “Ottilie was always particular about keeping her silver polished.”
“I don’t know any lady who isn’t particular about the silver,” Drusilla couldn’t help but point out.
“But only someone with the quirks Ottilie possessed would bother with silver after they’ve returned as a ghost,” Irma argued. “That means there’s no possible way I’m going to step foot in this castle because Ottilie never cared for me and will surely make a point of haunting me the most.”
With that, Irma resettled the weeping veil over her face, turned on her heel, then marched back to the hired hack, climbed inside, and shut the door firmly behind her.
Five
“Of any excuse I thought Mother would use to refuse to live here,” Annaliese began, drawing Drusilla’s attention, “using Aunt Ottilie’s ghost wasn’t anything I ever considered.”
Drusilla felt the most curious urge to laugh. “I wouldn’t have thought of that one either, but luckily for us, it’s a flimsy excuse.”
“I don’t know how flimsy it is considering Aunt Ottilie and Mother truly never got along. Frankly, I wouldn’t put it past Aunt Ottilie to single Mother out as the best person to haunt.”
“Except that I highly doubt Aunt Ottilie is dead as we never received any notice regarding her passing from her solicitor, Mr. William Baumgartner.”
Gus opened his mouth, probably to argue once again about Aunt Ottilie being dead, but before he could voice a single argument, the sound of carriage wheels rolling up the long drive interrupted him. A second later, two additional hired hacks, along with three wagons, came into view.
“I was beginning to worry the rest of our party took a wrong turn,” Drusilla said as the hacks and wagons drew closer.
“They’re just lagging behind because Thomas”—Gus nodded to the driver who was now bringing his hack to a stop afew feet away from them—“doesn’t like to push his horses past a plod.”
Annaliese was beaming a smile in Thomas’s direction a second later, leaving poor Thomas looking somewhat dazed. “How delightful to learn there are hack drivers who concern themselves with the well-being of their horses.”
