It is amazing how the world view shifts along with the
circumstances.
Yesterday Lucy was dreaming of catching pigeons and cooking
them over flames in a dark part of a forest to survive, and today she was
eyeing those very birds with a sort of motherly affection. She couldn't dream
of dining on them. In fact, she found them positively endearing, fussing about
on a branch with wings and things.
She strolled over to her favourite bench and perched her
happy bottom on the sun warmed wood. So much had changed in one day.
Life was funny like that.
You were rich one minute and poor the next or poor one
moment and rich the next. It could go either way. And she was glad that this
time life had changed directions in her favour.
She pulled out a cigar that she had pinched from the library
and lit it. She didn't want to smoke it precisely but hold it in her hand, wave
it about and look important. It felt like the right thing to do on such a
joyous occasion.
She stared at the animal house through the haze of dancing
cigar smoke. Last evening she had been ready to flee the manor with a single
shawl and two pillows stuffed up her dress.
Last evening her skin had been chilled, her heart frightened
and her nose so cold that she was surprised it hadn't fallen off at some point.
She sighed. Last evening had been eventful. After her own
nightly adventure, Lord Adair had flowed onto the scene like a magician, woken
the entire household and left every yawning head spellbound as he had explained
Peter's deadly hand in the entire matter.
For once Lady Sedley had swooned convincingly. Elizabeth had
paled and dug her nails into the sofa leaving a momentous claw mark in the pink
leather.
And as for Ian … Ian had heard the news, walked about,
digested the fact that his brother was the culprit, and when the truth of it
all finally penetrated his thick skull, he had started to sway and he had
continued to sway on his astonished legs until his eyes had begun to blur.
It was a long time before a sound passed his lips.
He had squeaked and snorted a few times before anyone
realised he was trying to whistle.
And when he had finally managed to whistle, it had begun as
a sweet little wobbly tune which soon turned into a full-fledged song of joy,
love and ale.
He had leaped into the air, bounced a few times on chairs
and tables and raced about the house like a five year old presented with a
basket brimming full of sweets.
He had hugged and kissed every single person in the house
and glowed like a dewy sunflower, and all because he had realised that he now
owned not only the jewels but also the whole blasted manor.
Lucy had not waited around to hear the rest of it … That is,
she had wanted to but was ordered to retire to her room by Elizabeth.
And tragically she hadn't been allowed to eavesdrop either.
She had lain awake for hours after that mulling over the
horrifying discovery that a baboon had killed poor old Lord Sedley.
And Lord Adair, she smiled, had stood by the truth even
though the culprit had turned out to be an aristocrat.
She flicked the ash from the cigar just as she had seen Lord
Adair do and took a thoughtful puff.
And if last night had been eventful, then this morning had
been no less exciting.
She had walked into the kitchen to find hot sweet tea and
warm breakfast waiting for her on the table. The servants had watched her
consume one egg and part of a sausage before erupting into a babble of
apologies.
The cook had sobbed into her handkerchief and handed Lucy
two cakes, a fresh loaf of bread and a pot of jam.
Lucy had hugged the cook in delight, who had
enthusiastically squeezed her back until Lucy had almost choked to death.
The butler informed her that he and the scullery maid were
getting married. She had been cordially invited for the wedding. He was
planning to retire and open an inn with the money Lord Sedley had left him.
In turn, the scullery maid had blushed a whole lot, and
between fits of giggles she proceeded to enthusiastically pump Lucy's hand,
give her an excellent recipe for Brunswick Black and bless her with ever
shining rust free grates.
Rose had shuffled up to her next. Dear feisty Rose, with her
adorable garbled accent of part French, part Russian and a smattering of Irish.
She had sternly apologised for her bad behaviour and demanded forgiveness. Her
voice dipped a touch and trembled when she mentioned the delicate matter where
she had threatened to bite off Lucy's sweet little nose.
Tears had sprung up in Lucy's eyes at this confession, and
she had warmly embraced the robust woman.
Rose, in turn, had stood like a lump, gritted her teeth and
allowed this display of physical affection for a change.
Then it had been time for goodbyes.
At this point everyone had burst into noisy tears including
the butler. Hiccups, sobs and the sound of servants blowing their noses had
resounded in the kitchen.
Lucy had been touched, and she cried like she had never
cried before. She had howled and howled and howled, prompting a wolf asleep in
the animal house to respond.
But it was the cook who outshone them all. She displayed
grief like a tragic soul, an artist on stage or a frequent visitor of funerals.
If Lucy's tears could have filled a large kettle, then the cook's tears caused
the kitchen to flood. Soon every boot in the room had been soaked by the cook's
salty tears …
"Questions skipping about in your head?"
She looked up to find Lord Adair standing in front of her.
The sun seemed to form a halo around his head.
"Will you answer them?" she asked.
"Gladly," he replied. "Shall we stroll while
we palaver?"
"Jabber," she said standing up, “not
palaver."
He pressed his lips together.
"Now, my lord," she asked, "when did you know
that the baboon did it?"
"Do you recall that day when you had disguised yourself
as a bush and were tailing Lady Sedley? You had come very close to discovering
the truth. A few feet away from where you stood eavesdropping on Lady Sedley
and Peter's conversation, concealed inside the old stables, was the dummy
wearing Lord Sedley's old clothes."
"I was disguised as a tree not a bush," she
corrected him. "Why didn't you unmask the plot that very day, my
lord?"
"If I had told the family that a baboon killed Lord
Sedley and the only clue I had was a giant doll, would anyone have believed
me?"
"Sounds loony," she conceded.
They circled around a large puddle of muddy water whose
surface was shimmering with the colours of the rainbow.
"What will Elizabeth do now?" Lucy asked.
"She has decided to go to London. An old aunt of hers
lives there and owns a modest house. Elizabeth will take care of her aunt while
planning a season in London."
"Ian and Lady Sedley will be going to Bath?" she
prompted.
"Yes," he replied quietly. "And I will return
to Lockwood."
"Yes, well …." She trailed off.
"I should return indoors. I have some small matters to
see to before departing."
"Wait, one last question."
He hesitated.
"Please," she coaxed.
He smiled and gestured for her to continue.
"What happened to the valet?"
"He escaped last night."
"And the jewels … Who had placed them in my room?"
"You already asked your last question."
"I promise no more after this one. Tell me, who placed
the jewels in my room."
The smile widened. "Why, I did, Miss Trotter. I put the
box of jewels on your bed."
Her mouth dropped open. She asked slowly, "You stole
the jewels from Elizabeth's room and placed them in mine?"
He bowed in response.
She stamped a small foot. "Why the devil would you do
such a thing?"
"Calm the anger spinning atop your nose, Miss Trotter.
I wanted everyone to be certain that the crimes had been committed by
you."
"Why you—"
"I wanted to lull Peter into a false sense of security,
and once he relaxed, he made the mistake I was waiting for."
"You used me," she fumed.
"I did what I could to save you." He shrugged and
tipped his hat at her. "Goodbye, Miss Trotter."
"I won the bet," she said to his departing back.
He froze.
She lifted her skirts and hurried after him. "I caught
the murderer before you did. Or rather he caught me, but catching has been
done, and I was involved first, so I win."
She impatiently brushed aside a branch and leaped over a
large rock. "Did you hear what I said, my lord? Stop walking so fast. Wait
a moment, Lord Adair. You and I have unfinished business. Stop, I say, you
blasted man!"
Lucy sourly watched the bags being carried into the waiting
carriage.
The gold Lockwood family crest of an eagle and Pegasus
soaring over a friendly looking lion glinted in the sun every time the door was
opened and closed by Lord Adair's valet.
She heaved her own small bag up on the step and sat down to
wait.
"He will have to take me with him," she told the
kittens in the basket.
They mewed sceptically.
A soft sob to her right made her turn her head.
She could see no one and yet the pathetic crying continued.
"Who is it?"
"It is I," Aunt Sedley howled.
Lucy squinted harder and finally saw a brief outline of a
translucent ghost. "Aunt Sedley?"
"I am not your aunt," Aunt Sedley wept.
"I am sorry, I had gotten used to thinking … Oh, you
are so sweet."
"Eh?"
"You are crying because I am leaving. You are going to
miss me," Lucy said touched.
"No, you daft fool. The wedding," Aunt Sedley
yowled, "is off."
"Why the devil?"
"Mr Brown had a Mrs Brown hidden away. The spirits in
charge of the wedding found out all about it." The ghost sobbed and blew
her nose. "Mr Brown thought that after death all familial ties were over,
but the spirits in charge said no such luck. He continues to be married to Mrs
Brown, whether he likes it or not, for the next seven generations."
"Who are the spirits in charge?"
"Who the bloody hell cares," Aunt Sedley bewailed.
"I am not getting married, that is the point. I no longer want to live
anywhere near Blackwell village. I never want to haunt the streets that I
haunted with him. I want to go far, far away."
"You can leave the mansion?"
"Don't ask foolish questions," Aunt Sedley
hiccuped.
"What are you going to do?"
"Wibble wibble gibbble."
"What?"
"Wiggle riggble akh."
"Please stop blubbering for a moment," Lucy
begged. "I cannot understand a word."
"Will you," Aunt Sedley sniffed, "take me
with you?"
"I don't know where I am going."
"I thought you were going with Lord Adair."
"I have to convince him yet."
"But he is leaving any moment now," the spirit
exclaimed.
"I know. I am going to try one last time, and if not,
then I will have to go to an inn, take a room for a few days and hunt around
for employment."
Aunt Sedley stopped crying. "You don't have
references."
"No, and if I tell them who my previous employers were,
they will hear of the murder and theft—"
"And assume you had a hand in it," Aunt Sedley
finished.
"Besides, Lord Adair knows everyone in England. No one
will question him if he decides to employ me or asks someone else to give me
work."
"He has to take you along."
"I hope he does," Lucy sighed.
"You know," Aunt Sedley said thoughtfully,
"he will always be the hero."
"And I the heroine," she replied dreamily.
"You, my dear, are a side character."
"Hmmph."
"I have always wanted to see Lockwood," Aunt
Sedley said perking up after a moment. "Lord Adair had a number of
handsome and powerful ancestors. Some may still be floating around in the
halls."
"I don't doubt it."
"I may meet someone new," Aunt Sedley said
hopefully. "I will—"
The door opened cutting Aunt Sedley short, and with a gust
of wind, Lord Adair strode out. His long black travelling cloak swirled around
him, and his shiny boots silently descended the steps.
"My lord," Lucy said coming to stand before him.
"It is time to honour our wager. You promised to give me some sort of
employment if I won. "
"I had solved the crime before you even began to make
sense of it," he replied dismissively. He searched the clear blue sky and
turned to the valet. "It is a good day for travelling. Don't forget the
balloon—"
"You managed to catch Peter," she cut in,
"but you had to use me to get to him. You might need me again."
"I doubt it."
"I am willing to learn."
"I have nothing to teach."
"You cannot abandon me, I have nowhere to go."
"You can return to the orphanage."
"They won't have me."
"I can offer you coins to survive until you find
yourself some suitable employment."
"I am no beggar."
He shrugged and gracefully entered the carriage.
She caught hold of the door. "You found a home for
Palmer, the chickens, the frogs, the rats and even that horrid evil Egyptian
bird. Surely you can find something for me."
"You are not a helpless little pug, Miss Trotter, that
I can hand over to a bunch of greedy children," he said and rapped the
carriage walls, "or a remarkable specimen for some old medical professor
to mull over."
"But I am a girl of gentle disposition. I am educated.
I can play the piano, the harpsichord, the flute. I can write exquisite
letters, speak French and argue like a Greek philosopher. I can knit, sew,
paint and dance. I can bake divine little cakes light as air, my breads can
satisfy even the king. I can mop, dust and frighten away wrinkles," she
cried as the carriage started to roll away.
“I know how to prise a bullet out of a man and make a salve
for a nasty cut," she continued, running alongside the moving carriage.
"I know how to use the Hunga Munga, the lethal African fighting tool. I
can brawl like an experienced street urchin and keep the fawning women away
from you, Lord Adair. "
The carriage quickened its pace and she could no longer keep
up.
"I am immune to your charms, my lord," she
screamed in one last desperate attempt.
The carriage jerked to a reluctant halt and Lord Adair's
head poked out. He said resignedly, "Come along then, Miss Trotter."
Lucy grinned in triumph. She pulled the handles of a small
cloth bag over her shoulder, grasped the basket of mewing kittens and with
Spinoza the raven securely perched upon her bonnet hurtled towards the
carriage.
The ghost of Aunt Sedley whooped in delight and whizzed
after her.
They both leaped in, ghost and human, and settled opposite
the handsomest man on earth, Lord William Ellsworth Hartell Adair, the Marquis
of Lockwood.
Aunt Sedley produced a glass of champagne and sipped the
ghostly bubbles. "To a new beginning and yet another spirited adventure,"
she toasted.
"Amen to that," Lucy sighed happily and settled
down for the long ride ahead.
The End
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