Mistletoe Mischief

Rollo wasn't in the least concerned. 'Ha!' he declared, and as he strode over to examine Oliver, he rubbed his spectral hands together for a job well done. Then he prodded the unconscious man with his foot. ' 'O Mighty Caesar! Dost thou lie so low? Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils, Shrunk to this little measure?' '

Oliver didn't move, in fact he was so still that Megan was apprehensive. 'He-he isn't dead, is he, Master Witherspoon?' she asked, going closer.

'Nay, mistress, he is just-' Rollo broke off in astonishment as he realized she had addressed him. 'Thou canst see me, sweet lady?'

'Sometimes, but I always hear you.'

'The saints be praised, now I have two angels to save me! Oh, blessed, blessed fortune. They say miracles are past, but it is not so! he cried, and snatched off his plumed hat to sweep her an eloquent bow. Then he came to seize her hand and shower it with kisses. His touch was strangely warm and firm, like that of a living man.

Oliver groaned a little, and Rollo returned to him. 'We will speak again, mistress, but I pray thee do not tell anyone of me. Certainly do not speak of me to the Lady Evangeline.'

'But why, if she already knows about you?'

'She hath a special task to perform, and it must be done without her knowing why. Consultation might lead to full understanding, and that she must not have.'

'Can you tell me about this special task?'

'No, mistress.'

'Why?'

'It is ye unwritten rule, dear lady. A spirit must not explain reasons to the living, except sometimes when the living are unconscious.'

'That's silly.' She glanced at Oliver, who stirred a little more.

'I will not argue, but nevertheless it is so. I cannot and durst not transgress, for to do so is to be certain of a lonely eternity, and no spirit wishes that. Our existence is made bearable only by the constant hope of redemption.'

Megan thought for a moment. 'Master Witherspoon, is this special task something to do with St. Nicholas's church?'

He gasped. 'Ah, lady, lady, the quickness of thy intelligence is sweet music to me, and if thou shouldst guess how thou may save me, I will adore thee for all time. But I say again that I cannot explain anything to thee. Now, go inside, mistress. I will wait until this scurvy rogue hath left. And if he should endeavor to plague thee more, thou hast only to tell thy friend Rollo Witherspoon.' The specter sketched her another grand bow, then turned to direct his attention to the ladder, which obediently rose against the wall again.

Megan hesitated. 'Thank you for coming to my rescue, Master Witherspoon.'

'I did but brush aside two flies that were besetting thee, sweet lady.'

She smiled at him, then hurried back to the house.

Chapter 19

Megan did not expect to sleep again after that, but to her surprise her head could barely have touched the pillow before she was deep in dreams. She was awoken the next morning, Saturday, December 20, by the sound of Evangeline's gardeners complaining to each other about the gravel on the lawn. She lay warmly in bed, thinking about the eventful night. She would have to face Oliver again soon, and she knew he was not the sort of man to be deterred by just one setback. He would seek her out again, and it would not be a pleasant experience. At least she was prepared for him next time, and had Rollo's promise of assistance, but there ought to be something more. It was something she had to dwell upon very carefully.

When it was time to get up and go to Evangeline, the last thing Megan wished to do was read Gil Bias. She was bursting to talk about Rollo, but because the ghost had been adamant about her silence, she knew she could not say anything. It was most frustrating, for she and Evangeline together might be able to discover what it was the spirit required to be done. At least if it was connected with the church she knew where to begin, and she could only hope it wouldn't be too long before she had time to go there again. After dressing in her new apricot-and-white-striped muslin morning gown, and pinning her hair up in a tidy knot, Megan went along to Evangeline's rooms to read to her. The bank of low cloud she had noticed in the night now covered the sky from horizon to horizon, a breeze was blowing, and there was a dusting of snow on the Downs. She thought about Mrs. Fosdyke's bunion, and wondered if it was accurate enough to ensure Evangeline the kudos of driving out in the royal sleigh.

That was what Evangeline was wondering too; indeed all thought of Le Sage's masterly novel was abandoned because she could think only about the sleigh, concerning which she had already dispatched Fosdyke to the Marine Pavilion, Prinny's written consent firmly in his hand. Well, perhaps it wasn't quite true that the sleigh was all she could think about, for the costumes for Twelfth Night were also very much on her mind. Apart from her jester suit, the contents of her theater wardrobe no longer pleased her. Everything was too gaudy, too drab, too flimsy, too heavy, too anything one cared to mention, except acceptable.

Megan was glad when the time came to go down to breakfast, but first she sought Rollo in the theater. There was no sign of the ghost, however, nor had he gone to breakfast as he had the previous day. A very wan and nervous Edward was in charge of the sideboard, and whenever he brought something to the table, he hobbled because his shins were so sore. He also appeared to be in some discomfort from his rear end, which was hardly surprising, Megan thought with some satisfaction. She wondered how Oliver was this morning. Virtually laid up, she hoped.

Edward avoided catching her eye, indeed he seemed so intent on keeping well away from her that he could barely stretch to place her plate before her. She realized that he thought she had a mysterious ally, with whom he had no desire to risk another encounter. Let him go on thinking it, for it was true!

At first she was alone at the table with Rupert, who had a guilty conscience about the undue attention he had paid her the night before. 'Miss Mortimer, about my conduct last night…'

'Please think nothing of it, Lord Rupert, for I quite understand,' she replied with a smile.

'You do?'

'Of course, and when I go shopping with Miss Holcroft this morning, I promise to do all I can to promote you.'

'You are an angel, Miss Mortimer.'

'No, sir, I am just someone who hopes Miss Holcroft will soon see the light where Mr. March is concerned, and that she then grants you your heart's desire.' Megan glanced at Edward, who must have heard everything, and who would, she trusted, relay it all to Oliver. She had decided upon a way to keep her cousin at arm's length, and she was so pleased with her idea that she did not care if Oliver knew what she said. It was seeing Greville at the writing desk that had provided the inspiration; all she had to do was write a little letter of her own, to be opened in the event of anything unpleasant happening to her, and then let Oliver know of its existence. With that and Rollo, she was surely safe.

Rupert sat back. 'Do you think I made Chloe just a little jealous last night?'

Megan smiled again, ruefully this time. 'I do not think she will ever be jealous of me, Lord Rupert, for she is beautiful and sought after, and I am neither. Besides, what lady is ever going to be jealous of a companion?'

'Greville's mother was,' Rupert murmured, then sat forward again. 'Miss Mortimer, although you may not aspire to out-and-out beauty, you are nevertheless very attractive, and I think you most charming.'

'You are too kind, I fancy,' she replied, and reached for a slice of toast from the silver rack.

'Good morning, children,' said Greville's voice suddenly, and they both turned with a start to see him standing in the doorway, from where he had heard all they'd said. He raised an eyebrow at their openmouthed silence. 'Where are your manners? You are supposed to say good morning in return.'

'Good morning, Greville,' Rupert replied guiltily, wishing he hadn't made the observation about the late Lady Seton.

'Good morning, Sir Greville,' Megan said, and quickly returned her gaze to her toast, but she watched as he