Chapter 19
Montgomery may have answered some of her questions, but two remained uppermost in Veronica’s mind. Who was Caroline and did Montgomery still grieve for her?
Nor had his response about leaving Scotland appeased her. I don’t know. Hardly a satisfactory answer.
She hadn’t lied to him; she didn’t want to go to America.
She could close her eyes and hear the timbre of the speech of the maids and know herself home, feeling a closeness to her parents she hadn’t felt in London.
The sheer beauty of the mountains surrounding Doncaster Hall and the undulating flocks of sheep declared her in the Highlands, and this was where she wanted to stay.
A borrowed Scot, that’s what Mr. Kerr had called Montgomery. Did the solicitor know something she didn’t? Had Montgomery been more candid with him? He’d professed to know nothing in London, but had something changed once Montgomery reached Doncaster Hall?
“Lady Fairfax.”
She nearly jumped at the sound of the solicitor’s voice.
“Mr. Kerr,” she said, placing her hand flat against her chest. “You frightened me.” Especially since she’d just been thinking of the man.
“Forgive me, Your Ladyship, it was not my intent.”
The solicitor stood at the base of the stairs, looking up at her.
Slowly, she descended the steps, halting when she was two steps above him.
“You met His Lordship at the Society of the Mercaii, did you not?”
She nodded. Montgomery’s solicitor must know of the circumstances of their meeting. Did he know the entire story?
“Doncaster Hall is experiencing many temporal disturbances, Lady Fairfax. It’s my intention to attempt to contact the spirits and calm them.”
She descended the next step, coming so close to Mr. Kerr that she could reach out and touch him.
“I didn’t know you had an interest in the occult, Mr. Kerr.”
“I assume, Your Ladyship, by your attendance at the Society, you share my interest.”
She didn’t answer, merely waited for him to continue.
“Would you care to assist me in a gathering?” he asked.
“You’re going to talk to the dead, Mr. Kerr?”
He nodded.
She could feel his thrumming excitement. If he’d been a squirrel in truth, he’d have been standing on his hind legs, his paws scrabbling in the air and his nose twitching frantically.
She wondered if she’d misjudged him. Or was it simply the idea of contacting the dead that inspired her to smile at him, matching his toothy expression? She might solve the mystery of Caroline’s identity on her own.
“Yes, Mr. Kerr,” she said, “I would very much like to assist you.”
Montgomery hadn’t gotten any productive work done all day. Every time he tried to concentrate on the design, he thought of Veronica’s words.
Did you have slaves?
He could hear the barely veiled horror in Veronica’s voice when she’d asked that question.
Gleneagle had been left to all three of them equally. One brother had no more say than another, despite his birth placement. However, two of them could outvote the third, and he’d found his wishes being overridden by Alisdair and James.
In an action that, even to this day he couldn’t accept, his brothers had continued the practice their father had instituted.
Gleneagle had been no different from any other James River plantation.
Everything Magnus Fairfax had believed in, everything he’d taught Montgomery, everything Montgomery had come to accept was right and moral, had been pushed aside.
His decision to join the Union Army hadn’t been an easy one. Nor had it been simple to explain why he did so to his family. His brothers hadn’t understood and decided it was his airships dictating his decision. He’d allowed them to continue to believe that.
If he had it to do over, he’d tell them the truth. Even now, he sometimes wished his ghosts were real. If they had been, he’d address Alisdair first, as the oldest. Then James, waiting until his brother’s mischievous twinkle sobered.
Would it have changed anything? No, but at least he wouldn’t have been left with this feeling that he’d not been honest.
“I’m stopping,” he said to Tom, who, until a week ago, had been more than happy to work in the stable. In the past week, however, the boy had gotten a touch of airship enchantment and was checking all the seams in the balloon Montgomery would take up in a few days to test the air currents.
“You can give it up for the day, Tom,” he said, guessing that if the boy had his wish, he’d keep working.
“If you don’t mind, Your Lordship,” he said, “I’ll finish what I’ve started.”
He nodded, approving of Tom’s work habits. All the people employed here were the same, leading him to wonder if being industrious as well as capable were traits of the Scots, or if they were reserved for those who worked at Doncaster Hall.
Gloaming had settled around Doncaster Hall by the time he entered the front door.
Ralston wasn’t at his post, but that in itself wasn’t unusual since Ralston had, for the last several weeks, been absent, devoting himself to errands necessary for the care and maintenance of Montgomery’s airships.
Yet when he went in search of Veronica, he couldn’t find her, either.
He wondered if he’d missed dinner again and consulted his pocket watch to ensure he hadn’t. Mrs. Brody, always assiduous in her duties, sent a maid to the distillery with provisions each day, in case he grew hungry or thirsty while working. Therefore, hunger was never a distraction.
Mrs. Brody, also, was not to be found.
He strode toward the Armory, intent on asking Edmund if he knew the whereabouts of the inhabitants of Doncaster Hall, only to be halted at the doorway by the sight before him.
One of the tables had been moved from another room, covered in a white cloth, and placed in the middle of the Armory. Five chairs sat around the rectangular table, several of them occupied by people he sought.
Edmund sat at the head of the table. To his right was Veronica, with Elspeth beside her. Mrs. Brody and a young woman he didn’t recognize made up the rest of the group. The wall sconces had been extinguished. The only lighting in the room was a lone candle in the middle of the table.
No one noticed he was standing there, so he moved into the shadows, folded his arms, and leaned against the wall.
He knew what they were doing. His Aunt Penelope had conducted numerous séances in an effort to reach her son and husband.
No one had attempted to stop her since she seemed to gain some comfort from her spiritualistic sessions.
What he couldn’t understand was why Edmund was leading the group.
Something caught his attention, a black space where there should have been a wall. He walked to it and realized part of the wall was ajar. Doncaster Hall evidently had some secrets. He peered inside and could see the shadow of a step.
“Please don’t shut it,” Veronica said.
He glanced back at her to find she was still staring intently at the candle.
“You need to be very quiet, Montgomery. We’re summoning spirits.”
“Why?” he asked. “Who?”
Edmund startled him by turning and sending him an irritated glance.
“There have been a variety of disturbances at Doncaster Hall, Your Lordship, ever since you ascended to the title. We are trying to contact the 10th Lord Fairfax to see if he is displeased.”
“Does it matter if the 10th Lord Fairfax is displeased? The 10th Lord Fairfax is dead, buried in a crypt.”
Elspeth evidently thought that was amusing, because he glimpsed a wisp of a smile before her face assumed a more sober expression. Veronica, however, was still staring at the candle and not looking in his direction at all.
“Do you contact the dead often?” he asked Edmund.
“Alice says she has heard footsteps in the secret passage, Your Lordship,” Edmund said, inclining his head toward the girl Montgomery didn’t recognize.
“The 10th Lord Fairfax liked us using the secret passages, Your Lordship,” Mrs. Brody said. She gestured with her chin toward the open passage door. “That particular one leads to your chamber, sir.”
Not after he nailed it shut. Why the hell hadn’t anyone told him about the secret passages? It made him wonder if his grandfather had replicated those as well. If he had, surely he’d have let his grandchildren know. What greater exploration could there have been for three curious boys?
Or perhaps Magnus hadn’t known all of Doncaster Hall’s secrets.
“Maybe the 10th Lord is hard of hearing,” he said dryly.
Mrs. Brody turned to Edmund. “He was quite aged when he died, Your Ladyship. Perhaps we need to speak louder.”
He’d been jesting, but each person at the table took his comment seriously.
Perhaps you should tell them you talk to ghosts yourself, Montgomery.
He smiled at James’s voice. “There’s one difference between us,” he said mentally. “I know you’re not there.”
Maybe one day you’ll think we’re real, Alisdair said. Once, you did.
He was delirious and ill, Caroline said.
Caroline was always coming to his defense, even in her imaginary state.
He pushed away his ghosts to concentrate on what Veronica was saying.
“We are here if you wish to speak to us. Or let us know if you’re unhappy.”
Montgomery couldn’t believe she was serious.
His solicitor nodded as if he approved of Veronica’s comments. “Ask him if he’s trapped between the living and the dead, Your Ladyship.”
“Stephen,” she said, addressing the 10th Lord Fairfax by his given name, “show us a sign you can hear us.”
Montgomery looked around the room, knowing the others expected one of the weapons to fall off the wall or the candle to sputter out. Nothing happened. Not even a gust of wind from the secret passage.
Perhaps he should speak in an elderly whisper, just to give them some excitement.
“I don’t think he’s upset,” Veronica said to Edmund after moments of silence. “Could someone else be haunting us?”
“There’s a girl who came to a tragic end a hundred years or so ago,” Mrs. Brody said. “We call her the Green Lady because she’s always wearing a green dress.”
“Perhaps she’s changed her dress since then. That is, if ghosts feel the need to change in the hereafter,” he said.
Veronica glanced over at him. He regarded her steadily. Her chin tilted up, and she narrowed her eyes.
She was taking this much too seriously.
“Someone has disturbed the atmosphere, Your Lordship,” Edmund said, glancing at him again.
“No doubt,” he said, deciding he’d leave them to their insanity. He wasn’t going to contribute to it.
Even if he did talk to ghosts.