“If only Bolt had as much of a chance at winning as Eleanor...” Mr. Delacorte mused.
Aurelie and everyone else stifled smiles.
“What do you suppose Mr. Bellingham looks like?” Dot asked.
“I think he has a little beard,” Mrs. Pariseau postulated.
Everyone turned to her in bemused silence.
“It just seems a beardy name, Mr. Bellingham does,” Mrs. Pariseau expounded placidly.
“Interesting! Beards are not very fashionable at the moment,” Delilah remarked. “Perhaps we ought to lay a little wager. If Mr. Bellingham has a beard...” she prompted.
Aurelie was uncertain about betting. Mild alarm must have registered in her expression.
“Poor Mrs. Gallagher, first we try to foist a brandy on her, and now the talk of gambling. She’s going to think we’re a den of iniquity. You needn’t worry, Mrs. Gallagher! We promise our wagers are always very benign.”
“If Mr. Bellingham has a beard... then we will read aloud from a book of Mr. Miles Redmond’s stories of the South Seas this week instead ofThe Ghost in the Attic,” suggested Mrs. Pariseau.
Who promptly exchanged a challenging little glare with Dot.
“Mrs. Gallagher, do you like ghosts?” Dot asked her suddenly. With the faintest, startling hint of belligerence. Not directedather, necessarily, Aurelie sensed.
This was clearly an important, possibly even controversial, question, as everyone had gone silent and was studying her curiously.
And this was what it would be like to be in a family, she supposed. She wanted to say the right thing, but she also wanted to be herself, and she wanted tolaugh, and she wanted them to approve of her, and for a moment all of the conflicting wants muted her.
“Well, I am tempted to say no. But I... have not yet met one, so I should not like to risk impugning them by offering an opinion.”
Everyone laughed, and she was relieved and quite pleased again.
“‘Impugn’ means insult,” Angelique told Dot quietly.
“Thank you,” Dot whispered.
“You seem like the sort of person who would like a story about ghosts, and it’severso good of a story,” Dot flattered. “I find something new to like about it every time I hear it.”
“Mrs. Gallagher strikes me as asensiblelady, and she wouldn’t go into the attic if she knew a frightening ghost lived in it,” Mrs. Pariseau said.
Aurelie rather liked both of their interpretations of her character, frankly. She wasn’t certain either of them was entirely true.
“Doesn’t someone have to die in order for there to be a ghost?” Aurelie asked. “What if it’s someone you once knew? Would it still be scary?”
She’d clearly just lobbed a philosophical grenade of some sort. Everyone’s head pivoted toward her. Dot looked stricken, as though this simply had never occurred to her, Mrs. Pariseau’s eyes gleamed with fascinated approval at her contribution, and Captain Hardy and Lord Bolt seemed both amused and intrigued.
“I imagine it depends on who it was, and how they feel about being vaporous,” Lord Bolt mused.
“I’m not certain ghosts are vapor, Lord Bolt,” Mrs. Pariseau reflected. “Perhaps it would feel more like cobwebs if a ghost brushes by you.”
Dot’s face reflected pure horror. Her jaw swung open. She had clearly not thought about the actual composition of a ghost.
“Why do you suppose you like the story so much, Dot?” Aurelie ventured.
Dot had obviously not deeply considered this, either, and bit her lip. “She’s ever so brave to go in the attic when she won’t know what she’ll find. She doesn’t know if it’s dangerous or not but sheneedsto know, or she’ll never have any peace.”
“Perhaps we don’t mind being a little frightened by a book when we know we are in no real danger,” Aurelie suggested hesitantly. “Perhaps it’s a way to remind ourselves that we are safe. And that way we appreciate our safety a little more.”
She noticed, because she was now almost painfully attuned to nuances, the swift little glance Delilah and Angelique exchanged. When their eyes returned to her, they seemed to have gone softer with sympathy, andmaybea hint of conjecture. Even a sort of knowing. It made her feel briefly unmasked.
