There were several gasps, a couple of indrawn male breaths.
"The old earl is in transit, I suppose you could say. He is neither here nor there, but currently more here than there, if you know what I mean. He is not dangerous, not at all alarming, indeed, I find that he is a good listener and I enjoy singing duets with him.
"Do any of you sing?"
34
Dead silence. An older woman's hand slowly crept up. "I do, my lady. The vicar told me I have the sweetest voice in his whole flock."
"Then doubtless you will have to carry the duet with the old earl, as his voice isn't all that true. Do you think you would enjoy that, Mrs.—"
"Mrs. McGiver, my lady. Mr. Pritchard spoke to me about the housekeeper position."
"The old earl knows some clever songs, Mrs. McGiver."
" 'E's not the old earl, 'e's a ghost," one of the men said, "a bloody ghost wot doesn't belong aboveground! Singing duets, it isn't right. All this talk about playing chess with a ghost—there's evil and bad business, that's what everyone says. No good will come to anyone who stays 'ere."
Rosalind nodded at the older gentleman with a rooster tail of white hair. "I understand your concerns, Mr.—"
"Macklin, my lady, Horace Macklin. I was the 'ead gardener 'ere before the old earl came back to 'aunt."
"The gardens are in dire need of your help, Mr. Macklin. Now, listen to me. I have discussed this with the old earl and he assures me he is not evil, he is, indeed, of a happy frame of mind. The reason he is happy is that he is very glad his grandson is here and wed.
"He told me about many of you, how kind you were, how pleasant and witty, how very good you all were. He also said he hoped you would come back and scrub things up so Wyverly Chase can be brought back to its former glory."
Still uncertain looks, at least two appalled faces.
Rosalind leaned a bit closer to the group and lowered her voice. "I can tell you this: He will add interest to your lives, he will make you smile after you become used to hearing his booming voice. When he breaks into song, I daresay you will soon find yourselves singing along with him. Who among you can be so timid, so fearful, as to turn down this very rare opportunity? Isn't this an adventure, something to tell your grandchildren? Your friends? I daresay they will all be hanging off your words, buying you glasses of ale to hear you talk."
Ah, most of the faces weren't quite so stony now.
She continued, "All great houses have their ghosts. Without ghosts, great houses simply don't come up to the mark. Now, the old earl's ghost isn't ancient and thus he hasn't yet decided whether or not he wishes to settle here. As I said, he is still afloat, but eager to greet all of you. Will he remain? I don't know. We will see."
She stepped back and let them huddle. Voices were muted but they were talking, and that was good. Eyes darted around the library, but the old earl remained quiet, if he was even here.
Finally, the woman with the sweet voice, Mrs. McGiver, took a step forward and said, "All but Robert will come, my lady. Robert is afraid, a sorry thing for a man to be—"
" 'Ere now! I ain't afeared!"
Mrs. McGiver sneered at him. "Then sign on, my lad. You won't even have a chance to hear the old earl sing, or sing with him for that matter, since you'll be yanking up weeds in the gardens. You too afraid to do that?"
More grumbling, then Robert nodded. "All right, I'll stay on the grounds, but niver will I come into this den of iniquity. A ghost in the library—it fair to beetles the brow."
Thankfully, the old earl's den of iniquity remained quiet, the air unruffled and warm.
Rosalind heard Peter Pritchard tell the group as he ushered them out of the library, "If you would all begin today, his lordship and ladyship would be very pleased. Do you know that I myself have sung a duet with the old earl? His is not a very good voice, I must say, but he does try. I'm thinking there must be heavenly points for singing rather than simply speaking. What do you think, Mrs. McGiver?"
"He never had a good voice, at least I wouldn't imagine he did. I never heard him sing, truth be told."
Robert said, "Well, now, the old earl's dead, ain't 'e? Who could sing good with grave dirt in 'is mouth?"
Mumbled agreement. Thank the good Lord no one mentioned there hadn't been a body in the old earl's casket.
Rosalind was grinning when she joined Nicholas in the small overgrown garden with hummingbirds dipping into the rich tangled rose blooms. The air was soft, the sun shining down hot from a clear sky.
"I like my new home, Nicholas. We now have ten additional servants. All will be well. Our new housekeeper is Mrs. McGiver, and I have to hand the prize to her. She's got a backbone, in addition to a lovely voice."
"However you and Mrs. McGiver managed it, I am impressed." He kissed her. The hummingbirds were blurs in the air, swooping closer when he took her to the ground behind a thick-pedestaled sundial. She asked him between kisses if the earl ever visited this small garden.