Chapter 4
AGNES
Agnes decided immediately that she didn’t like the look of this woman, who’d arrived unannounced and without warning at the door of Harling Hall.
‘Dressed like a Jezebel,’ she muttered disapprovingly, her gaze taking in the unruly fair hair that had half fallen from its bun, the long black skirt, laced boots, and red silk blouse that made her look, in Agnes’s opinion, like a fairground fortune teller.
Beside her, hovering rather nervously, stood a younger woman, her blonde hair in a ponytail, green eyes behind large, black-rimmed glasses that seemed to take up most of her face. She was wearing jeans and a sloppy jumper. She looked, thought Agnes, like an anxious owl.
‘But you know who she is?’ Aubrey murmured, rather eagerly. ‘The older woman, I mean. You do recognise her, my dear?’
Agnes frowned. ‘Should I? I don’t believe I’ve ever met her before.’
‘I know her!’ Florence said, hopping excitedly beside them in the hallway. ‘She’s that woman off the telly, ain’t she, Poppa? That one what talks to ghosts.’ She chortled in obvious amusement. ‘Or reckons she does, anyways.’
Agnes briefly closed her eyes against the onslaught of Florence’s terrible diction and then opened them again in alarm as the meaning of her adopted daughter’s words sank in.
‘She talks to ghosts? You mean,’ she clutched her husband’s arm in horror, ‘she can hear us?’
Aubrey patted her hand reassuringly. ‘Well, so she says, but she’s busy with Callie and Brodie right now, so probably hasn’t realised we’re even here.’
‘We must keep it that way,’ Agnes said, her voice dropping to a whisper.
As Florence began to skip towards their visitors, Agnes grabbed her daughter’s arm and hissed fiercely, ‘Stay back, Florence! We certainly don’t want strangers knowing of our existence.’
‘Let us hope then,’ Aubrey said quietly, ‘that she cannot see us. Although, surely, she would have said so if she could?’
‘It’s that Madam Mariska off It’s Haunted!’ Imogen whispered, edging away from her mother, Callie, and joining the Wyndhams at the foot of the stairs.
‘We know,’ Florence whispered back. ‘What does she want, Immi?’
Imogen shrugged. ‘Not sure yet. Something about Halloween.’
Agnes and Aubrey exchanged worried glances.
‘Oh yes!’ Madam Mariska said suddenly, breaking into Callie’s speech about how they hadn’t really planned to have a late-night Halloween event for adults, and she wasn’t sure their little gathering would be something a television star of Madam Mariska’s magnitude would be interested in anyway.
‘I can sense a presence here. In fact…’ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
‘Three spirits. There are three spirits with us at this very moment.’
Agnes gave a horrified gasp, and Aubrey put a comforting arm around her.
‘Coo,’ Florence said, wide-eyed, ‘she’s good, ain’t she?’
Callie and Brodie exchanged glances.
‘Would you like to step into the sitting room?’ Brodie said pleasantly to their two guests. ‘I’ll ask Mia to make us drinks. Tea, coffee?’
‘Oh no,’ Madam Mariska said graciously. ‘If you don’t mind, I drink very special tea. My assistant, Verity, knows how to make it. Perhaps if you’d be so kind as to show her to the kitchen…?’
‘Well,’ Agnes said, pursing her lips in disgust, ‘of all the cheek!’
‘It does seem rather rude,’ Aubrey agreed. ‘Is our tea not good enough for this woman?’
‘Maybe it’s magic tea?’ Florence suggested, her eyes wide. ‘Wot ’elps ’er see the spirits an’ that?’
‘Goodness, I hope not,’ Agnes said fervently. ‘Perhaps we should warn Callie and Brodie…’
But it was too late. Imogen had been called upon to take Verity to the kitchen, while Callie and Brodie stayed with Madam Mariska, clearly hoping to learn what exactly it was that she wanted from them, and how on earth she’d known there were three spirits present.
‘I’ll go with Immi,’ Florence whispered. ‘Find out what’s in that tea.’
‘Be careful,’ Agnes warned her. ‘Don’t encourage Mia to talk to you. We don’t want to alert that woman’s assistant that there’s anything unusual going on in Harling Hall.’
As Florence skipped after her friend, Agnes and Aubrey straightened determinedly.
‘Right,’ Aubrey said. ‘Let us discover what this pushy woman wants with Callie and Brodie.’
They walked through the closed door of the sitting room and found Callie sitting on the sofa beside the visitor, while Brodie sat in an armchair, his fingers steepled under his chin and his brow furrowed as he listened to what she had to say.
‘I’m sure you must have heard of me,’ Madam Mariska said, with no trace of modesty. ‘Everyone watches It’s Haunted! after all. It’s one of the most popular programmes on its channel.’
‘I heard the series had been cancelled,’ Brodie said flatly.
Agnes stifled a chortle. ‘That’s right, Brodie,’ she whispered.
‘You tell her! Turning up here without an invitation or an introduction. I never heard the like. It’s a great pity that one of these spirits she claims to have spoken to never told her about etiquette and plain good manners.
’ She turned a puzzled look on her husband.
‘What does he mean by, “the series had been cancelled”, Aubrey?’
‘I rather think he means that this programme she’s so proud of is no longer being made,’ he explained quietly.
Agnes sighed with pleasure. Dear Aubrey was such a well-educated and learned gentleman, who kept his knowledge up to date at all times and could always be relied upon for an explanation, no matter what puzzled her. She was so proud of him.
‘Well, every series comes to an end at some point,’ Madam Mariska said sadly. ‘We must make way for new shows, after all. It had nothing to do with our ratings,’ she added, not very convincingly. ‘Some television executives can be very short-sighted, unfortunately.’
‘I’m still not sure what it is you’re asking,’ Brodie said, eyeing her with some caution. ‘You said you read the article in the Cotswolds Courier about our Halloween event next month, but I don’t see how that can possibly interest someone like you.’
‘Well,’ Madam Mariska said, settling herself more comfortably on the sofa. ‘It’s like this. I noticed that you’re putting on a few events for the children of the estate – ghost stories by torchlight for one thing. Wonderful! Naturally, I fully approve of that.’
‘How kind of you,’ Brodie murmured.
‘And the costume parade and pumpkin carving. All very commendable, I’m sure. However, I couldn’t help noticing—’ She broke off, and Agnes and Aubrey saw a faint look of annoyance pass over her face as the door opened and Mia, Immi and Verity entered, Mia carrying a tray.
‘Tea,’ she said pleasantly, placing it on the occasional table near Callie. ‘Madam Mariska, the white cup with pink roses is yours. Verity made your special tea, as requested. I’ve put some shortbread on a plate for you, but is there anything else I can get you?’
Mariska shook her head and waved Mia away with such a dismissive attitude that even Aubrey couldn’t make excuses for her rudeness.
‘That’s fine, thanks so much, Mia,’ Brodie said, and Callie gave her a grateful smile.
Mia nodded and turned to leave. Verity – as the owl-girl was evidently called – seemed about to slip into an empty armchair but Madam Mariska held up her hand to stop her.
‘Perhaps you’d like to go with, er, Mia,’ she told her. ‘Just while we talk business.’
Verity glanced at Mia, who had turned at the sound of her name. Agnes noted the sympathetic look dear Mia gave the owl-girl and felt a pang of indignation on behalf of this Mariska’s assistant. What a thankless position that must be!
‘You’d be welcome,’ Mia told Verity kindly. ‘We can have tea in the kitchen, if you like.’
Verity shot a look over at Madam Mariska, but the woman was already stirring her tea, so she meekly followed Mia out of the room.
Callie and Brodie exchanged glances, while Immi slid into the armchair and tried very hard to pretend she wasn’t there in case her mum sent her out.
If Callie had noticed her, it seemed she had no objection to her daughter’s presence. ‘You were saying?’ she asked politely, as she offered her visitor the plate of shortbread.
Madam Mariska held up her hand in refusal. ‘No thank you. Too much fat and sugar interferes with the gift, you know. Blocks the channels.’
Callie bit her lip as Immi giggled and Agnes rolled her eyes. Of all the pretentious twaddle!
‘As I was saying before I was interrupted,’ Mariska continued, ‘you’ve put plenty of entertainment on for the children, but what about the adults? I couldn’t see anything for them, and surely there should be some event that will take them up to midnight?’
‘Well…’ Callie hesitated. ‘I mean, on All Saints’ Day the vicar’s holding a service for the Dearly Departed, and we’re having a voluntary cleaning-up of the churchyard, so…’
Her voice trailed off and she and Brodie exchanged another look. Even to Agnes it sounded rather dreary.
‘But that’s All Saints’ Day,’ Madam Mariska pointed out. ‘What about Halloween itself? As I said, the events are geared towards children, who’ll be tucked up in bed long before the midnight hour. Surely there should be something to entertain the adults?’
‘It’s just a bit of fun really,’ Brodie admitted. ‘A family event to get the crowds in.’
‘Ticket sales, the jingle of the cash register.’ Mariska gave them a knowing smile.
‘Ah yes, I’m a woman of the world. I understand that Rowan Vale and the Harling Estate is a business, first and foremost. It must take an awful lot of money to keep this place running and so well maintained.
But that’s what I can help you with. What better for Halloween night than a séance?
Hosted by none other than a national celebrity! ’
‘A… a national celebrity?’ Callie stammered.
‘I presume she means herself,’ Aubrey murmured, shaking his head.
‘A séance on this estate?’ Agnes hissed, outraged. ‘I never heard of such a thing!’
‘I can picture it now,’ Mariska said, gazing dreamily at the portrait of Brodie’s great-grandfather, Sir Edward Davenport, that hung on the chimney breast. ‘In the woods, at the site of those famous stones of yours. I shall call upon the spirits, and they shall come forth to tell me their stories. All Hallows’ Eve is when the veil between our worlds is at its thinnest, and the dead can communicate with the living.
‘Of course, I don’t need a special night to communicate with the dearly departed souls, but it builds the atmosphere for ordinary people…
I’m sure I can help you with your enterprise.
After all, I’m a celebrity and want nothing more than to use my fame to help people such as yourself.
’ She bowed her head respectfully then glanced up quickly. ‘60 per cent of ticket sales.’
Brodie spluttered. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘That’s my fee. You see, you wouldn’t even have to pay anything upfront. Well, a small deposit naturally. But I’d trust you to pay the rest after the event. And I know you’d be honest about it. After all, I have my ways of learning the truth.’
She gave a tinkling laugh, and Callie managed a half-hearted smile while Brodie sat in amazed silence.
‘You want 60 per cent?’ he asked eventually.
‘I am a well-known television personality,’ Mariska reminded him again.
‘It will be my name that brings people to the event, and there’d be no lay-out for you because you’ll already have the pumpkin path set up and customers on-site.
I think, in fact, that I’m being more than generous, and the truth is my agent simply wouldn’t let me accept anything less.
’ She sipped her tea thoughtfully. ‘I understand that the Cotswolds Courier will be covering the event,’ she said casually.
‘And also that it might be televised on Your Cotswolds.’
‘How on earth did you know that?’ Callie asked, amazed.
Mariska tapped the side of her nose. ‘I work in television. I have many contacts. I’m sure,’ she added confidently, ‘that you can see that the chances of your event being shown on the local news will increase greatly if they know a celebrity will be there. Particularly one who worked for their own production company for a whole decade.’
‘She’s not wrong,’ Callie said, glancing half apologetically at a sceptical-looking Brodie. ‘They got on board fast enough at Christmas when they knew Sir Cain Carmichael was opening the Dickensian weekend.’
‘Yes, but…’ Brodie shrugged. ‘I guess.’
‘There you are then,’ Mariska said triumphantly. ‘So, what do you say? Do we have a deal?’
‘Just to be clear,’ Brodie said, ‘when you said 60 per cent of ticket sales, you were talking about the sales just for your séance, right? Not the sales of the entire Halloween event.’
Mariska shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, er…’
‘I expect we can clarify that in the contract,’ he said firmly.
‘After further negotiations, of course. After all, you’ll expect us to advertise your appearance, won’t you?
That will cost us money. No matter. This estate has exceptionally good solicitors and I have every confidence that they’ll draw up a contract that makes everything crystal clear on both sides.
We wouldn’t want any misunderstandings, would we? ’
Madam Mariska drained her tea and gave them a faint smile. ‘Of course not. Excellent. Well then, do I take it you’re agreeable to the idea?’
‘In theory,’ Brodie said cautiously. ‘Subject to costings.’
‘I think so,’ Callie added. ‘At least, I don’t see what harm it can do.’
She glanced apologetically over at Agnes and Aubrey, who were standing by the fireplace, shaking their heads. Aubrey rolled his eyes and walked over to Mariska, ignoring Agnes’s frightened squeals. Immi leaned forward, her eyes bright with amusement and interest.
‘So you’re going to talk to the spirits, are you?’ he asked their celebrity guest. ‘That should be interesting, shouldn’t it?’
‘Well,’ Mariska said, apparently oblivious to his presence, ‘I shall give you my agent’s contact details and once you’ve come to an agreement you can forward the contract to him. Do you know, now that little matter’s sorted, I think I will have a shortbread biscuit after all.’
‘Even though it will block her channels?’ Aubrey said with a cynical laugh, as he returned to his wife’s side.
‘My dear, I really don’t think we need worry.
This charlatan can’t see or hear us. Clearly, her announcement in the hallway that there were three spirits present was nothing more than a lucky guess. ’
‘Maybe so, Aubrey,’ Agnes said, her arms folded in disapproval, ‘but young Brodie has just agreed to hand over 60 per cent of sales from this event to someone who has no psychic ability whatsoever. Callie must surely know that? That woman is taking the entire estate for absolute fools!’