Page 8 of The Right to Remain Single

Mr. Blakely eyed the ancient, blackened stone and the panoply of cobwebs, thick with dust. “If you want to scare people away with a haunted room, this is the perfect choice.”

“I daresay, but the ghost prefers to haunt the Roman Wall.” She paused again for effect, although she doubted anything would move the placid James Blakely. “However, he did topple one victim down the stairs we just climbed.”

Mr. Blakely gave an exasperating chuckle. She crossed the weathered boards to the case in which the three masks were kept.

“Someone’s been dusting.” He indicated the cleanliness of the glass cover, through which the three masks showed clearly. “Ruins the eerie effect.”

“True, but if I open the case, people want to touch the masks. They’re fragile, so we keep it locked.” She launched into the usual recitation. It had succeeded in frightening a few charlatans, but Max himself had been obliged to send the most recent of them fleeing into the night.

“The legend of Decimus Maximus—known to us as Max—is long and bloody,” she said. “He protected his section of the Wall against ancient Britons, marauding Vikings, Border reivers, redcoats, and so on. My favorite is the story of a Graham who sought, against the advice of his family, to steal the daughter of the house as well as the Warren herd. Max chased him into a field, where he was gored to death by a bull.”

“A fitting end for a thief,” Mr. Blakely said. “But one can’t help but wonder if he was actually the daughter’s lover, and the ghost took umbrage at this impropriety and chased him away.”

She realized her mouth had dropped open with surprise, but somehow she couldn’t help it. No one had ever questioned the legends before.

“It makes a better story,” he said. “Border reivers may not seem as romantic as Cavaliers to modern-day maidens, but they were brave men, and Warren women…”

“Are known for their willfulness.” All except me.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “A delightful characteristic.”

Was he mocking her? Or, judging by the twinkle in his eye, trying to flirt with her? However attractive he might be, she wouldn’t get caught in up that folly again. She had to make him go away. “It’s not just a story. It’s the truth, and if the daughter loved the reiver, the ghost wouldn’t have chased him away.”

Mr. Blakely raised skeptical brows. “No?”

“Max is usually kind and helpful to women. He would have protected her from her father, if he’d forbidden her to marry the man she loved.”

“Is that so?” he said annoyingly.

“Yes,” she retorted. “It’s so.” She could list him several other examples of Max’s helpfulness, even up to the present day, but she needed to stress the ghost’s violent nature. She wouldn’t have mentioned his protectiveness even the once, if Mr. Blakely hadn’t distracted her from her purpose.

She straightened her shoulders and returned to her recitation. “The first mask is from late in the reign of Elizabeth. It is said that the ghost took exception to a party of revelers, one of whom fled in terror. The ghost pushed him down the stairs.”

“Or, being in his cups, he tumbled down on his own.”

“I know Max. He has a hot temper, so the first explanation suits him better.”

“If you say so, but this mask looks far more drunk than frightened.”

“It doesn’t look anything but dead,” she huffed. “The second death mask is from the time of Cromwell. The Warrens supported the monarchy, all except one brother who turned Puritan to snatch and keep the estate. The ghost seems to have taken offense, for he sabotaged the Christmas preparations—”

“The Puritans didn’t celebrate Christmas,” Mr. Blakely said.

“How could they not? They were Christians!”

“Yes, but firmly against the frivolous behavior that is customary over the holidays. No singing, no dancing, no games, and so on. Even on that holiest of days, business had to go on as usual. Shopkeepers were ordered to keep their shops open on Christmas Day.”

“Heavens, how horrid.” But she mustn’t let him distract her. “Maybe Max wanted to drive the Puritans out, so that everyone else could celebrate. In any event, he made a great deal of noise and turmoil in the Great Hall, and one terrified guest ran outdoors, fell into the well, and drowned.”

“His mask looks peaceful enough.”

Grrr. “I expect they tidied him a little. The ghost’s third victim visited here in 1750.” Thomasina had seen these masks often, but she still shuddered at this one’s misshapen face. “A stone fell on him from the parapet.” She motioned to the narrow doorway in one corner of the room, which led to the stairs to the battlements. “The ghost howled from above, and the victim looked up just in time for it to land directly on his face.”

“The ghost couldn’t have dropped the stone. Either it was loose and ready to fall on its own, or he had help.” Mr. Blakely cocked his head. “Didn’t Colin tell me once about a murderer in his family’s past?”

“That was an earlier Lord Garrison. He was suspected of killing his wife, but it was never proven.”

“Colin seemed very sure when he boasted about it at school.”