“What book is that, my dear?” Bram asked in an indulgent sort of way.
“The Monastery. By Walter Wyckham.”
“You gave her that, Zebedee?” Bram said, brows gathering like thunderclouds. “What absurd irresponsibility!”
“It’s Cousin Wynn’s copy, from the library,” Zeb protested. “I’m not sure I’d start with that one, but I read them at her age.”
“You are not a young lady.”
“It is my great-grandfather’s book,” Jessamine said. “And I want to read it. Imustread it.”
That sounded a bit fervent. Young people were exhausting, Zeb thought with the wisdom of twenty-eight. “I went to the stone circle earlier,” he remarked to the table, changing the subject without shame. “I’d like to take a walk around the grounds and see all the follies after lunch. Would anyone care to join me?”
“Oh, I will show you!” Jessamine exclaimed.
“I cannot resist such a tour guide,” Hawley said, laughing at her in a charming sort of way. “Bram knows the grounds already, of course, having spent so much time here making himself pleasant to Wynn. I dare say you will want to attend your wife this afternoon, Bram: I suppose she has the head-ache? She so often does.”
Bram’s face darkened. Zeb put in hastily, “I’d love a tour. Do you know, Jessamine, are there any remnants of this monastery the house was built on?”
“Of the what?” Bram demanded, diverted. “Monastery? Here? Nonsense.”
“It is not,” Jessamine said. “Cousin Wynn told me. It was a place of terrible crimes—”
The ensuing conversation, or argument, about Lackaday House’s alleged monastic origins went on for some time. Zeb fixed his eyes on his plate, rotated his ankles under the table as if flexing his feet was a substitute for escape, and wished one could eat lunch with fingers in one’s ears.
“It isnot!” Jessamine shouted, the volume making him look up.
“Of course it is,” Bram said.
She was clearly upset, with reddening cheeks and sparkling eyes. “It isnotimagination,” she said fiercely. “We have seen it.Ihave seen it.”
“Miss Jessamine, Mr. Wynn prefers you not to discuss this subject,” Gideon said quietly. “He asked that you respect that.”
“But it’s true! He knows it is true, and so do you!”
“Really?” Hawley said. “You’ve seen a ghost, Grey?”
He sounded mocking. Jessamine said, “Don’t laugh,” in a low, almost savage tone.
“Don’t fire up, sweet cousin,” Hawley told her. “Although you do look remarkably well when you’re angry; I wish more women had that gift. I’m sure Bram does too, given dear Elise’s temper. But I am not laughing at you, believe me. I don’t know what youhave seen, but I quite believe that the earth could have bubbles, just as water does. There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in our philosophy.”
“How original,” Bram muttered.
“Yousoundedsceptical,” Jessamine said.
“Did I? Perhaps it is simply that Mr. Grey does not strike me as a man to whom visions would be given,” Hawley said, with a touch of sneer. “I associate such things with the airy, artistic, imaginative soul, not the administrative one. I quite believe you have that temperament, Jessamine; I venture to say I do too. If there are spirits to be seen, I hope I shall see them. Perhaps we might go ghost-hunting together.”
Gideon said, sharply, “Don’t—” and stopped as abruptly.
“Don’t?” Hawley said. “No, what was that you started to say, Grey? Don’twhat?”
“I beg your pardon.” Gideon’s mouth was tight.
Hawley’s lips curled. “You fascinate me. I must know now. What did you see?”
“Mr. Wynn does not want this subject spoken of.”
Hawley’s nostrils flared. He never liked refusals. “I asked you a question, Grey. You will answer me.”
