Mistletoe Mischief

cannot be relied upon for the correct time of day, yet when he utters the dreaded word 'companion,' suddenly you credit him with absolute veracity!'

Greville didn't reply.

Rupert pressed his point home. 'I prefer to place my faith in my own judgment, and in Aunt E's, for she would not employ anyone about whom there was a single doubt. So let's ask her, mm? That should settle the matter.'

'It is clear to me that Aunt E knows nothing about this business. Besides, she clearly dotes upon the creature, so I will need more than Ralph Strickland's say-so anyway.'

Rupert looked at him in puzzlement. 'What do you mean?'

'I intend to make further inquiries. I know someone who happens to reside only a door or two from Lady Jane, so I will send him a note posthaste. His servants will be thick with her servants, and what isn't known to them won't be worth knowing.'

'And if you discover Miss Mortimer to be innocent?'

Greville smiled coolly. 'She isn't.'

Chapter 9

That night, after a truly awful dinner during which Greville had hardly said a word to her, and Rupert did his level best to make up for it by drawing her into the conversation, Megan retired to her bed in the certain knowledge she would never enjoy mulligatawny or roast pork again!

She lay with her arms folded behind her head, and gazed up at the canopy as she thought about Greville. The blue velvet hangings were burnished to rosy lilac by the soft glow from the fire, and the scent of roses filled the warm air from the open potpourri jar in the hearth. At the window the shutters and curtains were firmly closed to keep out the raw chill of the December night, and she wished she could similarly exclude Sir Greville Seton from her mind. Why, oh, why, had his wretched father had to choose a companion to run away with? Why couldn't it have been a governess, or even his son's nurse?

Sleep came gradually, but an hour or so later she awoke with a start to find moonlight flooding into the room. Someone had just flung open the shutters and curtains! There was a vague silvery shape outlined against the window, a tall middle-aged man in the clothes of Charles II’s time; at least, she thought that was what she saw, for he was ethereal, almost like gossamer, and the moon and stars shone through him. A faint floral scent other than roses seemed to hang in the still air, and for a moment she could not think what it was, but then she realized it was orange blossom.

She sat up slowly, and rubbed her eyes to make sure she was not dreaming, then she looked at the apparition again. Plumes curled from his wide-brimmed hat, and a periwig fell to his shoulders in row after row of regimented curls. He was clean-shaven except for wisps of mustache flanking the corners of his mouth, and he wore a short, unbuttoned jacket that was fastened with bows at the throat. There were more bows on his shirt, his baggy breeches were finished with deep lace ruffles at the knee, and his buckled shoes had high heels. He carried a cane that was almost as tall as himself, and there was a sword in a decorative baldric over his right shoulder. She knew she was looking at Rollo Witherspoon, but he might so easily have been Old Rowley himself, or the Sun King of Versailles.

He was staring at something in the distance, but then raised his eyes to the heavens, assumed a theatrical pose, and declared. ' 'I have a good eye, Uncle: I can see a church by daylight.' '

Shakespeare again, Megan thought with commendable calm, possibly Much Ado About Nothing. She didn't quite know how to proceed. Should she speak to him, or just stay silent? But even as she deliberated he suddenly strode from the room, and the scent of orange blossom water wafted over her as he passed. Quickly she got out of bed, put on her cream woolen wrap, then followed him. He went downstairs to the theater, where he again uttered his interpretation of the Bard of Avon: As You Like It this time.

' 'All the world's a stage. And all the men and women merely players: They have their exits and their entrances: And one man in his time plays many parts, and… And then…!' ' The words eluded him once more. 'Oh, fool, fool, to be able to recall quotations only to forget speeches!' The curtain was wrenched up, and he strode away into the recesses of the stage. Then silence descended.

Megan gazed across the darkened auditorium. Now, when it was too late, she wished she'd spoken to him. She returned to the staircase, but as she began to ascend, candlelight suddenly flickered at the top and Greville barred her way. His hair was tousled from sleep, and his maroon paisley dressing gown was tied loosely at the waist. 'What have we here, Miss Mortimer? A little nocturnal perambulation for the good of your health?' he inquired coolly.

'Please let me pass, sir.'

He didn't move. 'Why are you wandering around the house in the middle of the night?'

'I heard something,' she replied truthfully.

'What, exactly?'

'Footsteps. Didn't you hear them too?'

'I heard nothing at all.' He really didn't know why he'd awoken, but something had then compelled him to leave his room.

She thought it prudent not to mention Rollo, for Sir Greville the Grim was unlikely to believe in such things. All she wanted was to return to her room and close the door upon all things Seton. 'Well, I was probably dreaming,' she said.

'Undoubtedly.' His candle fluttered as he stood aside suddenly. 'Well, don't let me keep you from your slumbers a moment longer, madam.'

She hurried thankfully past him, wishing hot candle wax would splash on his bare toes.

Megan opened her eyes to bright sunshine the next morning. It was Friday, December 19, and she could see by the ice-fringed ivy leaves around the window that there had been a sharp dawn frost. There was a great deal of noise coming from outside, hammering, shouting, and the occasional rumble of falling masonry. She flung the bedclothes back and went to look out, for everything had been in darkness when she and Evangeline arrived last night.

She found herself gazing out over a small walled garden and the Radcliffe House stables toward what was left of the northern end of Great East Street. Most of it had already been demolished, and gangs of workmen were bringing down what was left. There were clouds of dust, and carts were hauling away the rubble.

Several miles to the north of Radcliffe House were the ice-whitened Downs, where windmills awaited the breeze, but immediately to the south lay the present quite modest grounds of the Marine Pavilion, which would soon be greatly extended when the intrusion of Great East Street was no more. Already a great stable was abuilding, comprising an immense dome that to Megan's eyes looked as large as St. Paul's Cathedral itself. The main entrance to the Pavilion was from the undisturbed section of Great East Street, and beyond it lay the rest of the old town. Then there was the sea, sparkling brightly in the winter sun, and far out on the horizon a squadron of Royal Naval frigates sailing toward Portsmouth.

The walled garden of Radcliffe House was well tended even in the depths of winter, and although the frost precluded any work as yet this morning, it was clear that Evangeline's two gardeners were assiduous about their duties. There was a quite astonishing display of chrysanthemums, goldenrod, and Michaelmas daisies for so late in the year, as well as borders of pansies and violas. A gravel path edged by a low box hedge encircled a small lawn, in the center of which was a raised lily pond that was covered in ice. Beside the pool there was a little white- painted summerhouse. It was open in front, had a little bench inside, and was overhung by a gnarled apple tree, in which flourished the prodigious mistletoe Evangeline had mentioned the evening before.

Remembering how Rollo had appeared to be gazing at something in the distance, Megan looked in what she thought was the same direction. The only thing of note was a hilltop church with a countrified churchyard at the very edge of the town. Was that what the ghost had been looking at? Suddenly she remembered the quotation he'd used. 'I have a good eye, Uncle: I can see a