The Ghost of Glendale Page 4

  “I feel it too,” Duncan said. “Simon is here. Is he asking us not to look or wanting us to go ahead, do you think?”

  “I truly believe he wants us to see. Look, it is in his hand. He has signed it at the bottom. Shall I read it aloud?”

  “Please.”

  Simon would a wooing go, his true love for to see

  They met in secret, no-one knew, and carved their names upon a tree

  Cruel fate took her away from him and left him all alone

  But they are bound forever now immortalised in stone

  If you would choose to venture and to find the place of tryst

  known only to the two of them, the place where first they kissed

  Then take the cup into your hand and drink down to the base

  There will you find the clue to guide you surely to that place

  Simon Marcham

  “This is it, Mr Armstrong. This is the clue. Oh poor Simon. And his love, whose name we do not even know.” She paused a moment, looked around. “He’s gone, hasn’t he? Now that we have found this he has gone. He knows we will pursue it.”

  “But your mother had this before us, and maybe others too. None has yet solved the riddle,” Duncan said as gently as he could.

  “Then we shall be the ones to do so,” she said with all her usual spirit. “But which cup was he referring to and how are we ever to find out!”

  Rupert was furious with his father, as much as a man of his mild temperament could be. And with Edward too, for the pair had gone off to inspect the horse and left him to the tender mercies of Lydia and her mother. While he was delighted to have a chance to spend time with Lydia, there was no way he could speak as freely as he would have liked. He was not insensitive to the rigid back and forbidding demeanour of her mama. Rupert made it his aim to bring her onto his side.

  “I trust you are enjoying your stay at Glendale, ma’am. There is much to interest one, is there not?”

  “It is an elegant home and one I much admire.” There was no softening in Sophia’s expression. No fool, she had observed his interest in Lydia. A mere country gentleman would not do at all. She had other plans for her daughter.

  “We had such fun this morning,” Lydia said, far more enthusiastically. “Phoebe and I spent an age in the maze, neither of us able to find our way out.”

  Rupert laughed. “It was one of our favourite games as children, for you must know that we played together all the time, neither of us having siblings and our places lying so close together.”

  It was evident from her raised eyebrow that the baroness did not approve. Rupert had spoken in all innocence but he had obviously offended Sophia’s sensibilities. He tried again.

  “I am vastly looking forward to the soirée they are holding this evening. It is to be hoped you will not think it flat after those you must have attended in London.”

  “I never make comparisons between London and the country.”

  She wasn’t making it easy for him. Rupert was searching around trying to think of what to say next when Sophia said, “I am disappointed not to see your friend here today, Mr Armstrong is it?”

  “He asked me to make his apologies, ma’am. Said there was much he had to do and was anticipating the pleasure of seeing you again later.” It wasn’t the truth but he felt there was no harm in trying to placate this obviously difficult woman.

  “Miss Marcham said as much when we left the house.”

  “Did she? I dare say they are together then.” The words were out before he could stop them and regretted immediately his faux pas. The eyebrow was raised even further, the back more rigid than ever. Rupert unintentionally made the situation worse for he then said, “They are great friends, you know. They ride together every morning before breakfast for both are horse mad and it gets far too uncomfortable later in the day.”

  “I doubt her groom appreciates having to go out so early.”

  Rupert laughed. “Phoebe take her groom! I’d like to see him try.”

  “Are you saying she rides with Mr Armstrong unaccompanied?”

  Oh dear, that’s upset the apple cart, Rupert thought. He was never so glad as when Max and Edward chose that moment to return. Sadly, though, the damage was done.

  “You know, Father, I always thought Phoebe was exaggerating about her aunt but between you and me she has severely understated the case. The woman is a shrew if ever I met one,” Rupert confided after the visitors had departed. “She took me in dislike straight away, that’s for certain. Well that’s spiked my guns for sure. You will have noticed how charming Lydia is. I have had no opportunity to fix my interest with her and now I shall be lucky if the woman lets me within ten feet of her.”

  Rupert ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. His relationship with his father was quite open and he had no hesitation in laying open his feelings to Max who would be, and indeed was, the first person he would turn to for help.

  “Of course I have noticed and I am happy to see your regard light upon such a personable young lady. Whatever else the mother might be she has done well with her daughter.”

  “It’s not just that. She’ll be after Phoebe now, and Duncan too I dare say, for I foolishly told her they went riding unchaperoned. You should have seen her face when I dropped that into the conversation. Well honestly! On her own land. And in any case she’s past the age of marriage so what harm can it do.”

  His father smiled.

  The evening was not an unqualified success. Phoebe was astonished when her aunt swept into the house with a far from convivial expression for she had thought they’d parted company on good terms. Nothing was said however and each retired to their rooms to prepare for the evening’s entertainment. Phoebe had engaged three musicians to play for her guests though none was better received than Lydia who, gaining command over her nerves, performed very sweetly, accompanying herself on the pianoforte to the satisfaction of all. To those local gentry and dignitaries whom Phoebe had seen fit to invite to her soirée Baroness Talbot was condescending in the extreme. No-one found anything amiss in her manner for it was what they might have expected from one who lived in London. To the Marchams and the visitors from Cranford she was, however, so distant that Phoebe remarked to Duncan in a quiet moment that she thought Simon had drifted into the room, so cold did she feel. Rupert was sulky as a bear for he could get nowhere near Lydia. Lydia was embarrassed by her mother’s behaviour and Phoebe was at a loss to know what was wrong. Edward and Max ignored everyone and enjoyed a quiet conversation together. Only Duncan, observing all, had a thoroughly enjoyable evening, for his sense of humour was brought to bear. The food that Phoebe’s chef had so carefully prepared turned to ashes in her mouth and she retired at the end of the evening wondering why she had so put herself out for someone who so little appreciated it.

  “Are you lost to all sense of propriety,” Sophia asked her niece when she returned from her morning exercise. To be riding with a man unaccompanied! Whatever would your mother have said had she been alive today to see you?”

  “She would most certainly have joined us for she was as fond of riding as I am.” Phoebe was just managing to control her temper.

  Sophia spluttered. “That my child should be witness to such activity!”

  “Oh but she wasn’t, dearest Aunt, for she was still in her bed.”

  “You deliberately misunderstand me! I blame your father who has allowed you free rein to the extent that you have forgotten what is expected of a young lady.”

  While it was unlikely that Phoebe would brook criticism of herself it was absolutely certain that she would not do so on her parent’s behalf. Unable to restrain her anger any longer, she said, “It is not I who forgets herself, ma’am. While you are in my father’s house you will speak of him with respect!”

  “I fear I can no longer remain. Have my carriage summoned immediately. I shall take my leave of you.” With which comment Baroness Talbot swept majestically out of the room, or such at least was her intention
. Unfortunately she tripped over the hem of her gown and fell awkwardly. An ominous crack was heard. It seemed she would not be leaving quite yet after all.

  Chapter Six

  Several people appeared on the scene for Sophia’s cries of pain were loud and long. First to reach her was Phoebe who was nearest to hand. With a glance she could see what had happened and was overcome with remorse, for she was as sure as could be that the accident wouldn’t have happened had she spoken in a more level way. Someone was sent immediately to summon the doctor. Sir Edward, seeing his daughter had control of the situation, stepped back into the library and closed the door. Mrs Wiggins appeared and dropped to her knees beside the patient.

  “There there, my sweet. Be a brave girl for I shall not leave you. The doctor will come soon and make you comfortable again.”

  “Oh, Wiggins, it hurts so,” said Sophia, her face pale, her eyes frightened, but the wailing stopped. Her old nurse would look after her. Baroness Talbot, a child once more, gave herself gratefully into the other’s care before thankfully swooning away.

  Fortunately Lydia, walking with her maid, did not return to the house before the doctor arrived and her mama had been carried back into the drawing room and placed tenderly upon a chaise longue. Everyone but Mrs Wiggins was banned until he had set the ankle.

  “Fortunately it is a clean break and should heal with no problem. I shall prescribe some laudanum for the patient but she must be kept quiet. On no account are you to attempt to carry her upstairs to her chamber. She must not put any weight upon that foot.”

  “No, sir,” said Mrs Wiggins. “I shall see to it that a bed is set up for her in this room and someone will be with her at all times.”

  “Very well. I know you for a sensible woman and one who will ensure she is comfortably situated. I shall return tomorrow to see how she goes on. In the meantime, as soon as she awakes try if you will to get her to take the medicine. I have a small amount in my bag but will bring a further supply early in the morning. Good day to you.”

  As the doctor was leaving, Lydia entered the house to be greeted by Phoebe who, while carrying the burden of guilt, was sensible enough to realise that punishing herself would in no way help her aunt.

  “You must not worry, Lydia, for she will be well, but your mother has met with an accident. I shall take you to her now. She is in the drawing room and there she must remain for she has broken her ankle.”

  The doctor, hearing what was said, was satisfied that there were at least two practical women to minister to his patient. Nor did the daughter look to be the sort who would have hysterics.

  Phoebe scribbled a hurried but detailed note to Duncan.

  …and now I am filled with remorse for I know, had I not let loose my wretched temper, it would never have happened. So you see I shall be unable to ride with you tomorrow morning, not on account of what my aunt has said but because duty dictates I must be here when the doctor arrives and I know not when that might be. Yours, PM

  Duncan chuckled for he read far more into it than was on the page. Having no other commitments that afternoon he rode over to Glendale to sympathise and perhaps, if he could, to lighten her burden. They went to her mother’s drawing room for it was an opportunity to look at the papers again.

  “You must know that you made me laugh aloud this morning. Poor Miss Marcham. In one moment you had thought you would be rid of your unwelcome guest and in the next her stay was to be protracted beyond what you had ever thought,” he said, smiling in a way that made her realise how well he understood.

  “Was it very bad of me? I was so pulled down but I can see now there is some humour in the situation if I but look hard enough.”

  “But it wasn’t as bad of you as you are making out. You are human after all. How does she go along now?”

  “Lydia sits with her, which is why I am able to have this time with you for I could not otherwise leave my cousin alone. But the greatest blessing is Mrs Wiggins who has taken complete control of the sick room. She has embraced her old charge. I don’t know if you’re aware that Mrs Wiggins used to be nurse to my aunt and my mother? She has given me to understand that Baroness Talbot has slept most of the time since the doctor left this morning. Moving her onto the bed which has been made up in that room was an ordeal which I think has taxed her strength and in any case I believe the laudanum will have made her drowsy.”

  A frown marred her features for a moment, causing Duncan to ask what else was amiss. She explained that having accorded so much effort for her aunt’s entertainment all would now have to be cancelled.

  “But why? There is still Lydia to think of and while her old nurse is taking care of her she cannot expect your cousin to sit around all day and every evening.”

  One quizzical expression let him know that Phoebe thought she could expect just that.

  “Surely,” he said roguishly, “she can trust her daughter to your chaperonage.”

  This caused Phoebe to laugh, for her humour was never far beneath the surface. Duncan was satisfied, remarking that with nothing fixed in the calendar for that day they were able to relax and, if the doctor came in good time in the morning, the projected picnic could go ahead.

  “And it will be so much more pleasant without my aunt to frown upon us all.”

  “I fear you are unjust. I have had some conversation with her and found she possesses a keen sense of humour.”

  “Maybe you are right but it hasn’t been much in evidence where I am concerned.”

  An hour went by in a flash but Phoebe and Duncan were no nearer to solving the riddle of the poem, nor did the rest of the papers reveal any further information other than historical. They sent for some tea and reviewed what they had so far uncovered.

  “I used to love riddles as a child but I am frustrated beyond saying by this one. My mother must have spent years trying to uncover its secret.”

  “And possibly many others have done the same,” Duncan reminded her gently for he could feel her disappointment. “We have only just begun our search. From her collection it would seem your mother spent much of her life here at hers. It is plain the poem will not give up its solution easily.”

  “Well, Great Great Great and many more Greats Grandpapa,” Phoebe said, turning to the wall and raising her cup to his painting, “I salute you for you have baffled many generations.”

  Duncan too turned, holding his cup before him, but hesitated in the act of taking a sip, spluttering and causing the liquid to drench his cravat with a soft brown stain. He smiled, very broadly.

  “Have you ever noticed, Miss Marcham, that in this portrait of Simon he is holding a goblet?”

  His excitement was palpable and her eyes flew again to the image of her ancestor.

  “Do you recognise it? Do you know where we might find it?”

  “Of course I do. It will be in the room where all the silver is kept. Come,” she said, jumping up, “let us go there at once.”

  Phoebe almost ran to the door but pulled up short as it opened in front of her, the edge catching her cheekbone as she jumped away. Lydia, stumbling into her, was filled with contrition and offered to fetch a wet cloth to hold against her face.

  “Allow me,” Duncan said. “You may tell your cousin how your mother does while I am gone.”

  He returned a few minutes later, his fingers touching Phoebe’s as he passed the pad to her. She was covered in confusion and he was hardly less affected but Lydia was turned away and happily did not notice.

  “Thank you,” Phoebe said in a voice strangely unlike her own.

  “Hold it there as hard as you can against the bruise. You may that way avoid some swelling,” he said tenderly.

  “I am so sorry. I was just coming to tell you that my mother awoke for a few minutes but is sleeping again now. Mrs Wiggins insisted I take a break for she could tell I was distressed. It is so unlike Mama to be submissive, you see, yet she obeys everything Mrs Wiggins says to her. I had to ask if perhaps she had not damaged her head as
well.”

  Duncan reassured her, saying that if she was feeling pulled it was more than likely that she would give herself over to the ministrations of her old nurse. Phoebe looked at him from under her lashes but thought it kind of him not to make game of Lydia.

  “Mr Armstrong was just leaving,” she said, thinking she ought to give some time to comforting and entertaining her cousin. Impossible in any case now to begin their search. “We shall look forward to seeing you and Rupert tomorrow at noon.”

  “The picnic goes ahead then?” Lydia asked.

  “As long as the doctor has been and gives consent to leave your mama with her nurse. Will that suit you, sir?”

  “We shall be certain to be here at the allotted time.”

  Phoebe said she would send a note should a problem occur, and would do likewise to the Squire, whose two girls were to join the party. It was to be hoped it would not be necessary. Duncan left and Phoebe, still clutching the pad to her face, looked again at Simon Marcham’s portrait. Could they be right? Was this the clue that would lead them to the solution of the riddle?

  The doctor was as good as his word, arriving just as the family were finishing breakfast. Phoebe persuaded Lydia to remain with her father while she went to see her aunt, “for you will only be distressed, you know, if he has cause to pull her about somewhat.” Such was not the case though. Satisfied that there was nothing more to be done at present the doctor took his leave, promising to call in a week’s time to check on his patient. Phoebe took her aunt’s hand and said in all honesty, “I would not have had this occur for all the world, Aunt Sophia. Please forgive me. Had I not distressed you so this might never have occurred!”