Old Lover's Ghost by Joan Smith Read Free Book Online

else was this one window oiled?”
    “That still leaves the clothespress,” Charity said. She was a little disappointed that Merton had not mentioned sending off for her riding habit. It could hardly be at Keefer Hall by tomorrow if he waited much longer, yet she disliked to remind him of it.
    “We shall leave Wellington here and get on with it,” he said, glancing at Lewis.
    His brother was not that easily gotten rid of. He stuffed the tin soldiers into his pockets and went below with them. In the hallway Merton said, “This is Mama’s room. Her sitting room is to the left and Miss Monteith’s room is next to it. That does not give her access to the clothespress. It is in Mama’s bedchamber, against the right-hand wall. The adjoining wall is in this room—a guest room,” he said, walking along and opening the door.
    They went into a bright room done up in shades of gold and green. “Mama’s clothespress would be against this wall,” Merton said, walking hastily to the adjacent wall, where another clothespress stood. Merton was just about to open the door when Miss Monteith spoke from behind them. No one had heard her silent entry.
    “Her ladyship would like to speak to you, Miss Wainwright,” she said. As she spoke, her eyes made a quick tour of the room. Her expression was not smiling, but it held a sort of secret irony.
    Charity jumped in surprise. “Oh, thank you, Miss Monteith. I did not hear you come in. I shall be happy to see her,” she said, and followed the woman out.
    She found Lady Merton still in her bed, looking ten years older than she had looked the evening before. Her hair had been arranged and she wore a handsome silk bed jacket, but she had not applied her rouge.
    “Miss Wainwright, kind of you to come.” She smiled sadly. “I have been thinking about what your papa said last night, about there not being a ghost here.”
    “He is quite certain there is no ghost in this part of the house, ma’am.”
    “Yes, yes, I understand that. But you are a woman—a lady—and you have considerable experience with this sort of thing as well. No doubt this power runs in families. I am not denying your father’s powers, my dear. What he said to me last night the moment he came into the room convinces me he has great powers. But in this one case he has failed. The ghost came again last night. Not to the window, but from there,” she said, pointing to the clothespress.
    “What did it look like?” Charity asked, glancing at Miss Monteith, who had taken up a stance behind Lady Merton and was listening with both ears.
    “Oh, dear, it is difficult to say, in the dark, you know. She—the ghost, I mean—had opened the curtains again, letting in the moonlight. I made a particular point of closing them before going to bed. Miss Monteith will vouch for that.” Miss Monteith nodded firmly. “By the light of the moon I saw a—how shall I say it?—disembodied spirit. A sort of smoke, or ether, coming from the clothespress. She had opened the clothespress door. I always make a point of closing it since ... recently.”
    As the lady spoke of actually seeing the ghost, Charity did not like to suggest it did not exist. “Who do you think it is?” she asked.
    Lady Merton looked at Miss Monteith, who stared back, lizardlike. A secretive look came over Lady Merton’s face. “I am sixty years old, Miss Wainwright. No one has lived sixty years without doing a little harm, however unintentional. It must be someone I have wronged in the past, do you not think?”
    “That seems the likeliest answer,” Charity agreed. With Miss Monteith on the qui vive, she did not like to go into details. “Perhaps if you could rectify this wrong, your ghost might leave.”
    “Exactly what I thought. I am willing to do what I can to make restitution, and you must be rid of my ghost for me, for I cannot go on like this. She will be the death of me.”
    When Charity looked at Miss Monteith again, the woman wore a very