Camellia squeezed her eyes shut. “You mean William killed him to keep him quiet? That’s horrible!”
“He thought to kill us both, and blame it on the enemy.” Finn shook his head. “Horrible, yes, but a logical move when one has a secret to keep. And on that day, I was in trouble. William was already advancing on me, for real this time. For some reason, I was cast back to the time I saw the ghosts fighting…men who should have been on the same side, but clearly weren’t. I wondered if I was about to die. The smoke from all the guns and cannons was so thick, it was impossible to see beyond ten paces or so. I ran into the smoke and hoped he wouldn’t have another chance at me before the fighting ended.”
Finn sighed, looking very tired. “But it was too late. After the skirmish, William used his rank to haul me in front of a small, hastily assembled tribunal. He said that I was the one who killed the unfortunate man.”
Camellia said, “He spread his version of the story because no one would believe yours, then. They’d say you were making it up.”
“Precisely.” Finn shrugged again. “As indeed I could be lying to you now. It was pointless for me to try to deny it. There were no witnesses because the other man was dead. True it was only William’s word against mine. But my superior officer was superior in every way: wealth, title, influence. No one would believe me, not even my friends. Oh, they talked a good game. But they knew which way the wind blew. I was strongly encouraged to make my way back to England as soon as possible.”
“But that’s not fair. Surely you can do something,” Camellia said.
“What can I do? William couldn’t prove that I killed anyone…hence, no charges. But I was never going to clear my name. Leaving the Peninsula was the only option. And now, I have two choices. Live here in England, making my way as best I can until the story is forgotten. Or leave, and begin again somewhere else. Possibly with a new name.” He sighed. “It’s not as if giving up my current name will be too difficult. No one will miss me.”
“You intend to go alone?” she asked, feeling a hollowness in her chest.
“Who would join me? I have a small circle of friends, Miss Swift, and most of them remain my friends only out of obligation.”
“I don’t believe that. I like you, and I never knew you before your so-called scandal.”
“You are different.”
“This place is making everyone different.”
He nodded. “It’s true that everyone’s been acting strangely. I can’t sleep. Miss Fitzgerald tells a tale that makes her look like another person. Elliot is more eloquent than he’s ever been in his whole life. Even Mr Hightower swears he saw the Welsh Ghost glaring at him from the head of the stairs, with flowing dark hair and a white dress.”
“Mr Hightower was drunk,” she pointed out quickly, glad she could explain at least one thing away.
“He told me about it the night before he became inebriated.”
“Oh, bother.” Camellia paused, then confessed, “I’ve heard music. Music that shouldn’t be there.”
“And both of us have seen ghosts here, before it was fashionable.”
“Before we heard the stories,” she agreed. Then, perhaps because her mind was already bent on it, she heard something else.
“What was that?” she asked suddenly, turning her head toward the great hall.
“What?” Finn turned his head too, puzzled.
“A woman’s voice. Singing. Just like before.”
He listened. “They’re probably starting to sing some more carols.”
“No. The sound came from the deserted wing of the castle.” She pointed to the direction away from the main hall, and started to follow the sound.
Finn moved fast to join her. “Don’t think you’re going alone.”
As the last echoes of her steps faded, a new sound floated in…a melody played on something like a flute. The walls of the castle stretched the sound out, so that the lively tune was distorted into something melancholy. Camellia laughed nervously. “I’m glad you’re here. I don’t think I’d go on my own, after all.”
He caught up to her and offered an arm. “You don’t have to.”
They followed the sound as it rose, faded, then rose again. The haunting song led them down hallways and through half-forgotten rooms in the older wing of the castle. The only light came from the windows, and it was dim indeed.
Eventually, they found a massive room where the music seemed to swirl up into the air, up to the vaulted ceiling, where it vanished, leaving only a dark silence.
“Oh, no. It’s gone now,” she said. She tried humming a few notes of the melody, but her voice was so thin and lonely in the space that she stopped. “It was real.”
He nodded wordlessly.
