“Never. It is concerning, but I don’t believe in ghosts.”
Clemmie looked away, not sure she could say the same, particularly after that black bird coming to herald their arrival. It all felt so ominous.
“Mr. Weber, have you seen Mr. Carter today?” she asked, remembering that she’d intended to inquire.
“Not for a few hours, but I did see him going for a bath earlier today.”
“Oh,” Clemmie said, feeling assured. So he hadn’t been claimed by the ghosts as he’d returned home from the tavern last night. “Good.”
Chapter 16
MR. CARTER WAS PRESENT at supper, and so seemed to be everyone else—well, of the people who couldn’t and wouldn’t leave. New people had arrived, unaware of the dramas of the hotel in the last week. It wasn’t as if Mr. Weber would be warning them as they checked in. What could he say? It appears we are presently being haunted by Roman soldiers, who are, as far as we can understand, searching for a traitor.
And they seemed to have found one, she thought with a deep sigh. Poor Oliver. This nightmare just didn’t end.
Everyone was urging her to leave and go home, but how could she? Oliver hadn’t been found.
“Mrs. Rowland,” a voice said and she looked up to see Mr. Carter. She’d been too distracted by her own thoughts to notice him approaching. “I understand there have been some incidents this afternoon.”
“The countess fainted when she saw Mr. Schonberg appear out of the mist,” she said, not quite knowing why she was making light of what had happened.
“And the Romans have been wandering by all accounts.”
Clemmie didn’t quite know how to respond to that. By his admission, he knew what had happened.
“I don’t believe in ghosts,” he finally said. “Well, we have ghosts in our minds and hearts from events in the past, but not ghosts that roam hallways and mountains.”
On the surface, she wasn’t perhaps surprised he was a skeptical man, but it made her wonder about his interest in all this.
“I think the question one has to ask is who has something to gain from this?”
“What do you mean?”
“The most detached would say you,” he continued, ignoring her question.
“Me?”
“Recently married, now without the encumbrance of an actual husband.”
“I think this conversation is over,” she said sternly with her arms crossed.
“Hear me out,” he said, trying to placate her. “The point I’m making is that someone is doing this, and they’re doing it for a reason.”
“It certainly isn’t me,” she replied tartly, still deeply offended at his insinuation.
“Who has something to gain from this?”
“No one,” she shot back. Was that true? Looking around, she surveyed people in this room.
“I mean it wouldn’t be hard to make noise in the mist. The mountains would bounce voices all over the place. Perhaps the people in the village are upset this hotel has opened.”
“And they would steal Oliver to prove it?”
“No, that is more tricky. It does all seem targeted at him, doesn’t it? Does he have any enemies here, I wonder.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a question she could answer. It wasn’t as if she could say he’d never seen any of these people before, because the truth was that he’d been to this part of the world before. Perhaps someone had been so upset with him then that they now took this opportunity upon his return to…
“But as your husband can’t be found, it does make one wonder if this is more about you.”
“Me?”
“He hasn’t been found. That suggests this is something more than a mere accident. Perhaps he is not injured at all and simply hiding. How much do you know about the man you married?”
Clemmie blinked for a moment, again wondering if this man was being cruel to her. More than once, he’d seemed intent on blaming this all on her. “As much as most brides. He is a fine, upstanding man.”
“Can it be concluded that he would not toy with you?”
“That’s absurd.”
“Is it?”
“Either way, someone is doing this, and they’re doing it for a reason. These ‘happenings’ have continued even after your husband’s disappearance. If it was directed at you, and I’m not saying it is,—"
“You actually are.”
“I am speculating. It helps to derive conclusions where there are none. As I was saying, these happenings continued after your husband’s disappearance, which suggests the person’s objectives haven’t been achieved yet.”
As offended as she was by this man, he did make an arresting point. “And what would be that objective?”
“I would say, a haunting is usually done, provided one doesn’t believe in actual ghosts, to torment someone.”
The words were stark and the logic sound. It had certainly tormented her. It raised all sorts of questions in her head. Who would want to torment her? There were suggestions in her head, but she didn’t want to contemplate them. There were some people who hadn’t been best pleased with her marriage. Oliver had been a good prospect for a few, and she’d stolen him away.
The more treacherous thought was with regards to Oliver himself. Did he secretly hate her, and had done this in order to torment her? That would be inordinately extreme. It wouldn’t be the first time a girl had discovered a husband was very different from the person they’d portrayed themselves to be during the courting process.
Oliver was from a good family. This didn’t make sense for him, and he’d been very considerate throughout their time together, even as they’d been married and traveled south. “No, I cannot believe it,” she said.
“Hate doesn’t have to be rational. It doesn’t even have to be personal.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone can hate you deeply without knowing you. You simply represent something.”
“What could I possibly represent?”
“A young, beautiful woman of means, of good standing. A newlywed. There are many things that the unhinged could find. Perhaps even the young, handsome husband of good means.”
This
