Chapter 32
Robert was in the library talking to Hugh and Iain. He was in the middle of a sentence when Lady Margaret entered the room, looking as regal as ever, in spite of the hardship and sorrow she had experienced in life. He watched her take a seat, as he had done many times, and found himself thinking he had never admired anyone as he admired her. She was a remarkable woman, a true aristocrat and the backbone of the family. He thought of Hugh, Iain, the twins and himself. They all owed her so much, more than they could ever repay, and now they had to watch helplessly as she grew old.
However, she didn’t appear to be growing old today, for the moment she sat down, she took one look at the three of them and said, “My, this must be a grave discussion, indeed. I have seen happier faces on gargoyles.”
“I thought you were going to rest,” Iain said.
“I tried. I have insomnia.”
“What you need is sleep,” Hugh said.
Lady Margaret raised a brow and looked at him. “Really? I don’t know why I didn’t think of that.”
Everyone was laughing at Hugh’s comment when Meleri rushed into the library as if she were fleeing the London fire. She shut the door behind her and leaned back against it and said between breaths, “Am I ever glad to see everyone here and breathing!”
“I am certain we all share your sentiments on the latter,” Iain said.
“Bless me, child, but you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Lady Margaret.
Meleri motioned for her to be quiet. “Don’t say that!”
Lady Margaret sat back. “Why not?”
“Because I have seen a ghost. And, I talked to him.”
The room instantly fell into discussion and clever conjecture, sprinkled with a few suppositions, a speculation and one or two hypotheses. That gave way and Meleri was quickly besieged with questions and requests to leave nothing out. She did her best, going at it with devout eagerness.
With her wide eyes and rapturous expression, Robert thought she appeared more excited than shaken, which was an odd reaction for someone who’d had a recent encounter with a ghost.
The room had grown quieter when Robert asked, “Did you mention your kidnapping?”
“He said he did not kill Philip.”
Hugh’s expression was puzzlement. “How could he say that? The coins and the dirk…they had to be his. How could he deny it?”
“He didn’t deny it. He really is quite the most truthful ghost…although I have not known any that were not…that is, I haven’t known any ghosts…well, everyone knows that. Oh, yes, he did not attempt to deny anything. Perhaps there is some honor system for ghosts that they must always tell the truth.”
“Meleri, will you stick to the pertinent facts?” Robert asked.
She nodded and went on with the details of how he only intended to frighten Philip so he would leave, adding something about his horse being spooked. “Philip spurred him unmercifully, until the ‘puir beastie’ reared. Philip was thrown and his foot caught in the stirrup. You know the rest.”
“So, there you have it,” Lady Margaret said. “Our ancestor is cleared of any wrongdoing.”
“No mention of the jewels?” Iain asked.
She shook her head. “No, I’m afraid we were too busy having our differences. He really is a bit opinionated and quite the most stubborn man that I have ever met. I don’t know how he became a ghost. He’s too stubborn to die.”
“You never talked about anything else?” Hugh asked.
“Of course we talked. There isn’t much else you can do with a ghost, you know.”
Iain laughed. “That is true.”
“Aye,” Lady Margaret agreed. “One can’t exactly ask them to dance, can one?” She turned to Meleri. “Anything else?”
Meleri stared at the ceiling, apparently thinking back over their conversation. “I asked him if he liked being a ghost.”
Hugh laughed. “You didn’t.”
“Of course I did. I was curious. How else was I going to know?”
Hugh was laughing so hard he could barely move, but he managed to say, “Tell me this is not happening,” before he went to sit down on the sofa that flanked the fireplace, across from the one where Meleri and Lady Margaret sat.
Robert continued to stand near the fireplace, thinking about Meleri’s performance, and it was a performance. It hit him suddenly that she wasn’t being droll by accident any more than she was speaking with idiotic whimsy to amuse herself. She was doing her best to keep a grave situation from becoming another Douglas tragedy, and he could not remember a time when he had enjoyed her more.