A Seven Year Hitch (14 page)

“Oh, you poor dear,” she was all concern. “I insist you go up now and I’ll fetch a tisane for you.”

Without further ado, Gerry and Erica left the room to the sympathetic well wishes of all.

It was very late when a cavalcade of excited ghost hunters set off for the ruins, carrying lanterns and shivering; not with cold but excitement. The night was beautifully clear and with the moon full and bright, it bathed the trees and grounds in a silvery sheen that prompted thoughts of fairies and enchantment. Everyone spoke in whispers, unwilling to disturb the ethereal exquisiteness of this magical, midnight world. A symphony of night accompanied the scene; the rustle of small creatures through the undergrowth; haunting hoots of owls, the cry of foxes and badgers and the placid breeze that sighed through the leaves and across the softly rippling water of the lake.

“In broad daylight, the sun warm on your skin and the birds singing, the talk of ghosts seems nonsensical but now, out here in this atmosphere, the notion does not seem so ridiculous, does it
?” Erica turned to Ross, voicing her thoughts.

“But any ghost out on a night such as this can mean no harm; it is far too calm and beautiful. It is a night for fairies and unicorns
,” he responded.

“And for lovers,
” piped up Fiona who strolled just in front of them, hand in hand with Stephen. “Don’t you agree, Trevellyn?”

“Yes
,” he agreed sighing dramatically, “It is a night for lovers. Perhaps with the help of the nymphs I may find my one true love.”

“I thought you had your sights set on
Charlotte,” Stephen said.

“Are there no secrets in this family? I was considering her as a potential bride but alas her heart has been settled on another
,” Trevellyn informed him.

“Has it? Who?” asked Stephen suddenly alert and eager for gossip.

“Oh do keep up, Stephen,” chided his beloved, rather unreasonably for only her, Ross and Erica had actually noticed the love smitten pair. “Michael of-course. They’ve been mooning all over each other!”

“Michael!” Stephen forgot to keep his voice down.

“Shhh” from three different voices.

“We
ll, I didn’t see that coming!” he justified himself.

“So Trevellyn is now on the look out for a
nother victim, I mean candidate,” Erica informed him. “I suggested Sophie but he believes her to be too young.”

“I should think so. Far too silly and giggly at that age. No, you don’t want to marry a chit that age!” he confirmed.

“Don’t start that again!” Fiona said emphatically. “We’ve already established that Trevellyn needs someone older.”

“Someone in their early twenties say, around twenty-three, twenty four
,” Ross said innocently, ignoring the fulminating glare from his wife.

“You’re twenty-three aren’t you, Erica?” Stephen asked. “There you are Trevellyn, perhaps you should ask Erica. She’s well past the giggly stage.”

Erica was affronted and said, “I never went through the giggly stage.”

A speaking look from Stephen argued otherwise but he refrained from comment. Fiona seconded Stephen’s suggestion.

“An excellent idea. I wonder I didn’t think of that myself. There you are, Erica, you can marry Trevellyn.”

“I’ll thank you not to make such plans for me
,” she said huffily.

“But you should start thinking about marriage. Pretty soon yo
u’ll be considered on the shelf,” Fiona teased.

“You’re nearly twenty three and only just engaged so how can you preach to me?” Erica asked heatedly, rising to the bait.

“Oh I’m different. I was just waiting for Stephen to realize we were meant for each other,” she replied airily. “You however have avoided eligible men as if they had the plague”

“That’s not true!” Erica knew she was being ribbed but could not prevent herself rising to it.

“Yes it is,” joined in Stephen. “You only had one season and refused at least five good offers for your hand. I must say, Robert Prentiss was terribly smitten and we were convinced you’d accept him but no, you broke his heart.”

Fiona took up the argument.
“Then you were adamant that you would not have another season even though my mother and the aunts begged. We were of the opinion that you must love someone local but you have not shown the slightest interest in anyone.”

“I’m already married if you must know!” Erica blurted out, goaded beyond endurance.

Stephen and Fiona stopped walking and Erica bumped into them.

“Must you stop so abruptly?” she grumbled.

“Already married?” Fiona and Stephen repeated together in absolute amazement.

“Dig yourself out of this one!” Ross whispered to her, an unholy grin on his face that made her itch to punch him.

“I meant metaphorically.  I’m married to the estate. It’s a very demanding husband!” Erica heroically floundered on. “I don’t have time for a flesh and blood husband, as you very well know.”

“But Great Uncle James runs the estate!” Fiona pointed out.

“I know but I help by visiting the tenants and seeing to the menu and such things,” Erica finished lamely.

Her cousins looked unconvinced but neither could they believe she was married and so were nonplussed.

“Come on, we’re falling behind,” Erica pointed out; hoping the subject of her nuptials would be dropped. But it was a forlorn hope. As they again walked on, Ross offered his opinion.

“Perhaps Miss Wilmshurst is
suffering from unrequited love,” he suggested. “Maybe she fell in love at sixteen to a tall, dark stranger and has been unable to give her heart or her hand to another, knowing they belong to him; knowing they belong to the husband of her dreams.”

“More likely the husband of her nightmares
,” Erica snapped petulantly. “You are being ridiculous, My Lord.”

“Why do I get the impression I am missing something, yet again?” asked Fiona perplexed looking closely from one to the other.

“You’re not missing anything, Fiona. It is just your over active nosiness,” Erica insisted. “Now lets get back to enjoying this beautiful starlit night and the ghosts we may see, and drop all this nonsense of marriage and husbands.

“Yes lets, for ghosts are not nonsensical are they?” Ross teased her.

“Yes alright but I do have to say Erica, I should forget this stranger chap and marry Trevellyn if I were you,” Stephen said emphatically.

“I’d love to forget the stranger, believe me. Now, thank goodness we can drop this tedious subject for we have arrived and don’t wish to frighten the spectres”

“I thought they were supposed to frighten us!” observed Fiona.

Great Uncle James gathered all around him once they reached the Abbey ruins, and insisted everyone dim their lanterns. He then waited for the ambience of the place to seep into everyone before beginning his haunting tales of long ago murders, and restless souls. The moonlight gave the old stones a mystical quality as it shrouded them in its silver lustre and an unearthly hush strangely resonated around the site. Many could not suppress a shiver especially when Great Uncle began to speak in a slow, deliberate reverence, half an octave lower than his normal speaking voice. 

Slowly they made their way around the broken walls and ruined rooms while Uncle James’ words brought the past into graphic focus.

“…and many have reported seeing the faceless monk gliding through the relics of his home, searching for revenge, searching for a Wilmshurst!”

Just then a faint light was briefly glimpsed in the nave of the church and Sophie muffled a scream, pointing towards it, her eyes wide with fear. Everyone spun round in time to see a phantom in Monks robes eerily moving towards the altar, away from where they stood and then quite extraordinarily, he seemed to disappear into the very stonework.

Pandemonium broke out albeit quietly for no one, especially those of Wilmshurst blood wanted to alert the ghost to their presence. Some of the braver souls went to investigate but returned with no explanation for what they had seen. Others clutched each other and demanded to know who was playing tricks on them.

Erica could not resist a little chuckle and asked them what they had expected to see on a ghost hunt. “You should all be delighted that you can tell your friends you have seen a real, dead ghost.”

“Aren’t you scared, Erica?” asked
Charlotte in awe at her cousin’s bravery.

“No. Ghosts cannot hurt you no matter what Great Uncle James says and to pr
ove it, I shall go in there now; alone. Michael, should I be wrong and Uncle James right, I trust you will see everyone safely back to the house. The Marquis will help you, won’t you?”

Sophie grasped her arm and pleaded with her.

“Oh cousin Erica, please don’t go. Don’t sacrifice yourself. Please I beg you.”

“Sophie I must,
” she firmly put Sophie from her and straightened her shoulders.

Ross folding
his arms and leaning against the wall, watched expectantly as his wife strode confidently into the church and up to the altar. He suspected that between them, Gerald and her had planned some scary finale for their guests and he was interested to see what it was. Obviously Michael and Great Uncle James were in on it and so, he suspected, was Sophie if her overacting was anything to go by.

Erica had reached the altar when the monk was seen again making his ghostly way towards her. Warnings were cried out to her but to no avail, when the apparition reached her, Erica let out a blood curdling scream that was cut off as both disappeared into nothingness.

Screams rent the air mingled with shouting but Michael and Ross, taking control calmed everyone enough to arrange the return to the house.

“We can’t just leave Erica
,” Sophie wailed.

“She won’t return and neither will the ghost
,” Great Uncle James assured everyone soulfully. “He has what he wanted. He has a Wilmshurst!”

There was a lot of babble on the trek back to the house. Most had realized that it had all been a hum but were playing on it for the younger, more gullible members of the family. Others tried to guess how the disappearing act had been carried out but no one could say for sure.

When the weary ghost hunters reached the front door, it was swung open by a panicking Boodle who addressed Sir Richard.

“Thank goodness you are home, Sir
. I have never seen the like and don’t know what to do. What with Master Gerald lying sick in his bed and you all out of the house.”

“Calm yourself, man
,” ordered Sir Richard “And tell me what has happened.”

“It’s Miss Erica, Sir
,” and so saying he led them all to a dimly lit sitting room and stood aside for them to enter.

Erica stood in the middle of the room; her eyes dark smudges in her deathly pale face. But what drew everyone’s gaze was her hair; it was ghostly white!

“But wh
at I want to know,” said Charlie a short time later when everyone had been served hot chocolate and were comfortably ensconced in the drawing room. “Is how you managed to disappear like that and got back here so quickly?”

“Family secret, old chap, if we told you that, we would have to sacrifice you to the ghouls
,” Gerald still clad in his monk’s robe, informed him.

“But I am family
,” he muttered.

“Well you can rest assured that if you ever inherit Monksleigh, the
secret will be passed onto you,” Gerald laughed.

“I think I may be too fr
ightened to go to sleep tonight,” Charlotte shivered. “You were so realistic Gerry, and Erica’s scream was just so terrifying.”

“What about my acting?” asked Sophie. “I practiced my terrified look in the mirror before we went out!”

“You were the best of all” assured her papa, stretching the truth. “You certainly had me fooled!”

“We co
uldn’t have done it without you,” Gerald added, stifling a yawn, which was the signal for everyone to seek their beds.

Over the next few days the weather grew steadily hotter and the house party took full advantage of it with plenty of outdoor activities such as cricket matches, picnics, horse riding and strolls in the gardens. Ross soon became accepted as an honorary member of the family and a great favourite with the children for he always joined in their games with immense enthusiasm. 

He was not however, enjoying the same level of success with his wife. Although they spent a great deal of time together, Erica always managed to manoeuvre things so that they were never alone and he was becoming increasingly frustrated with the situa
tion. So far the combined efforts of his parents, Gerald and Sir Richard who were all furthering his cause by creating promising opportunities, had failed to outwit Erica who always managed to produce at least one chaperone in the guise of cousin, aunt or uncle.

Erica herself was finding it progressively more difficult to avoid being alone with Trevellyn. She was aware from their less than subtle attempts at matchmaking that the Duke and Duchess would be delighted with her as a daughter-in-law, but she also suspected her brother and Sir Richard might also be promoting the Marquis’ cause.