Mistletoe Mischief

Before setting off for the baths, Greville and Rupert went to the impressive double doors at the far end of the hall, and opened onto Greville's notion of purgatory. Aunt E's beloved private theater, was sandwiched between the main house and the Marine Pavilion next door. Rupert flung the doors open, and the light from the hall shone into a small auditorium decorated in red and gold. It seated fifty guests on elegant horseshoe-backed chairs, and boasted a fine stage with painted backcloths, a drop curtain, and an orchestra apse. Behind the stage there lay two changing rooms, a scenery store, the wardrobe, and even a small green room where the players could relax between scenes. Lady Evangeline took her passion for theatricals very seriously indeed, and at present regarded herself as Brighton's sole upholder of the acting tradition, the old town theater having closed and the new one not being due to open until the following summer.

Greville pulled a face. 'Ye gods, how I loathe this place.'

'Hee-haw,' Rupert replied unfeelingly.

Greville suddenly noticed a black flat-topped tent in the orchestra pit in front of the stage. He knew that it would contain candles, oil lamps, mirrors, hand-painted transparencies, and projecting lenses for the phantasmagoric images that had become a drawing room novelty in recent years. 'Well, well, it looks as if Lady E intends Twelfth Night to be a very dramatic production indeed,' he said, nodding toward it.

'Yes, she told me there will be lighting experiments this year. She has notions of bringing scenes like the opening storm very much to life-you know, towering waves, a foundering ship, and so on.'

'Spare me the awful details,' Greville muttered. 'Come on, let's go to Mahomed's.'

Chapter 6

Two hours later, when Greville and Rupert had enjoyed an herb-scented vapor-bath at the exclusive premises of Sheikh Deen Mahomed, shampooing surgeon to the Prince of Wales, and were strolling back for Mrs. Fosdyke's roast pork dinner, a second traveling carriage drew up outside Radcliffe House. Fosdyke was very startled indeed to admit Evangeline, followed by the gray-haired French maid, Annie, who immediately scuttled upstairs to prepare her mistress's apartment, which thankfully was kept aired at all times.

The butler did not observe Megan, who lingered nervously on the threshold, nor did he seem to see or hear Master Rollo Witherspoon, who marched boldly into the house as if he owned it. The sound of spectral footsteps rang out on the tiles as the ghost followed Evangeline to the fireplace; indeed he was apparently so close behind her that he trod on her train. She turned a little crossly. 'Oh, do look where you're going, sirrah!' she complained.

Neither Fosdyke nor the footmen reacted in any way, yet they could not have failed to hear what she said; on top of which Rollo had passed within two feet of the butler! Megan was very aware of it all, however, as indeed she had been from that first moment in Wells. By now she knew that Evangeline was not mad at all, simply well and truly haunted; a fact with which her ladyship might be able to cope, but her new companion found rather difficult.

Having spent the entire distance from Somerset in the knowledge that a spirit was in the carriage as well, Megan was still a little uneasy about remaining in Lady Evangeline Radcliffe's employ. From the incident of the floating mistletoe at the lodging house, to Evangeline's asides to apparently thin air, and the mark of an invisible posterior on the carriage's velvet upholstery, Megan knew Rollo Witherspoon was there. Annie had not seemed to notice anything, and now that Fosdyke and the footmen likewise seemed not to notice anything, Megan was forced to conclude that they were probably ignorant of the ghost's actual existence, and were all making allowances for a mistress they thought to be a little eccentric.

This was the first time Megan herself had encountered anything supernatural, but in spite of her unease she was intensely curious. Who was Rollo Witherspoon? How old was he? What did he look like? Why was he haunting Evangeline? She longed to ask, but knew better than to broach such a delicate and potentially embarrassing matter. It remained to be seen whether or not the wraith realized that the new companion was aware of him, for as yet she had been very careful to show no sign.

Evangeline discarded her muff and held her hands out gladly to the fire as she glanced around the hall. 'How very unseasonable we are, to be sure. Fosdyke, first thing in the morning I wish you to see that Christmas greenery is acquired. It must be lavish, because this holiday is going to be very special after all-at least, it is from New Year's Eve onward.'

'My lady.' What was going to be 'very special' about it? the butler wondered. He did not know about Evangeline's personal plans, or indeed about the sale and subsequent demolition of the house.

Evangeline continued. 'It goes without saying that the mistletoe by the summerhouse is not to be touched.'

'Yes, my lady.'

'I'm very proud of that mistletoe. I vow it must be the largest example in the realm.'

'Undeniably, my lady.'

Lady Evangeline eyed him again. 'I trust that my rooms have been kept aired and warm since my departure?'

'Oh, yes, my lady.'

She looked shrewdly at him. 'What's afoot, sir? You have discomfort written all over you. Has something happened of which I should know?'

'Yes, my lady. My lord and Sir Greville arrived earlier this evening, and are at this moment at Mahomed's Baths.'

Evangeline paused. 'Well, that is an agreeable surprise, and hastens things along.'

'My lady?'

'No matter. Have they indicated why they have chosen to grace Radcliffe House with their presence after all?'

'No, my lady, but the message they sent from London informed me that although my lord intends to stay on, Sir Greville will return to the capital again on New Year's Eve.'

'To avoid Twelfth Night, no doubt,' Evangeline observed caustically, recalling the shambles Greville had made of Bottom. 'Is he accommodated in the blue chamber as usual?'

'Yes, my lady.'

'Which presumably means it is nicely aired?'

'Oh, yes, my lady.'

'Well, Sir Greville will have to relinquish it, I fear, for I wish Miss Mortimer to sleep there as it is next to my apartment.'

'Miss Mortimer, my lady?' The butler was still unaware of Megan in the doorway behind him.

'My companion. Where is the girl?' Evangeline looked past him at Megan. 'Ah, there you are! Come in, come in, don't fidget on the threshold.'

Nonplussed, the butler turned as Megan stepped reluctantly into the hall. His critical glance took in the plain maroon hooded cloak she wore over her mustard woolen gown, and the modest black hat beneath her raised hood. He guessed her to be an impoverished gentlewoman, as indeed were most ladies' companions, but why on earth would Lady Evangeline suddenly employ such a person? And not only that, but give her the blue chamber as well? There was surely more to all this than met the eye…

Another footman had emerged from the kitchens in time to hear about Megan. He was in his mid-twenties, with sandy hair, small eyes, and full lips, and the withering look he gave her was also one of outrage that a companion should be shown such undue favor as to be accommodated in one of the grandest bedrooms. Megan was accustomed to resentment, for companions did not rate highly either above or below stairs, being neither one thing nor the other, but she was herself a little startled to be given a chamber that was clearly more suited to a guest.

Evangeline spied the footman. 'Ah, Edward. Remove Sir Greville's things from the blue chamber without delay. The mauve room will do for him, for the color will no doubt suit his temper when he finds himself evicted from his