Murder Has No Class (4 page)

Today was definitely not the best of times. She was still unnerved by the vision of the red mist, wondering what was in store for her this time. What she didn’t need right now was Hamilton confusing her even more.

Chapter 3

Meredith had trouble summoning an answering smile as the imposing owner reached her. “Mr. Hamilton. I had no idea that you were expected today.”

His smile faded. “I rather hoped that we were on first name terms, Meredith. Could you not find it in your heart to call me Stuart?”

His dark eyes rested on her face, confusing her further. He had used her first name for the first time a few months earlier, and she had yet to find the daring to return the compliment. As long as he remained Mr. Hamilton, she could keep a professional distance between them. For some reason, that seemed desperately important.

She covered her confusion by saying briskly, “Was there something you needed to discuss with me?”

He answered with a sigh. “I just wanted to give you a word of caution. Crickling Green is about to be invaded by a very large group of men, most of them young and virile, from what I’ve heard. The Dog and Duck has been chosen as a location for the national darts championship, and one of the preliminary contests will be held there. I thought, given the nature of young men when in the presence of gullible young ladies, particularly when said young men have been imbibing ale or spirits, that it might be prudent to keep an eye on your students while the contestants are in the village.”

Meredith let out a puff of breath. Wonderful. Exactly what she needed on top of everything else. “I’ll do my best. Though I’m sure you’re aware that it isn’t always possible to safeguard fifty vigorous young women. Particularly when they don’t want to be protected. Can nothing be done to change the location of the darts match?”

“I’m afraid not. There’s no time. The contest is to be held this Saturday, the first of May. Unfortunately I didn’t get word of it until this morning.”

“I see. Well, we shall simply have to do the best we can.”

She hesitated, then added, “As long as I have your attention, there is something else I would like to mention.” She glanced up and down the corridor to make sure they were alone.

“Madam, you always have my undivided and most riveted attention.”

Certain he was being facetious, she glanced up at him. Not only was his expression solemn, his eyes conveyed a sincerity that caused her heart to beat at an uncomfortable rate. Flustered, she placed a hand at her breast, then as his gaze followed the movement, hastily lowered it again. “I appreciate that, Mr. Hamilton.”

“Stuart.”

“Yes, well, the matter I wish to discuss with you concerns Mr. Platt.”

Hamilton sighed, and rolled his eyes heavenward. “What has he done now?”

“He has engaged in nefarious behavior with one of my students again.”

One of Hamilton’s eyebrows raised and he pursed his lips. It was a habit that invariably rattled Meredith’s composure and today was no exception. Dragging her gaze away from his mouth, she added primly, “I really do think we need to discuss a replacement for that young man. After all, I—”

“What kind of nefarious behavior?”

She snapped her mouth shut and swallowed. “I beg your pardon?”

“I asked what kind of behavior has Mr. Platt conducted to earn such outrage?”

“What kind?”

“Yes.” Hamilton leaned forward until his face was much too close to hers. Drawing out his words, he murmured, “What . . . has . . . he . . . done . . . exactly?”

She searched her mind for words. “Well . . . ah . . . he was seen leaving the art studio with the student at an extremely late hour.”

“How late?”

She was beginning to get annoyed. Who was he to question her judgment? After all, she was in charge of Bellehaven, not he. What did he know about managing a school of this nature? “I am not aware of the exact hour, Mr. Hamilton, but I can assure you it was well after the student was supposed to have retired to her room, and several hours after Mr. Platt’s duties for the day were completed.”

“I see.” He tucked his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets and rocked back on his heels. “What exactly were they doing in the art room?”

Meredith set her jaw. “I can only imagine.”

“But you don’t know for certain.”

“Their stories were conflicting.”

“Ah, so you did question them.”

“Indeed I did.”

“Then I’m afraid we shall just have to take their word for it.” He smiled. “Come, Meredith, I doubt any real harm was done. I’ll have a word with Pratt—”

“His name is Platt,” Meredith reminded him. Not that it would make any difference. For some reason Stuart Hamilton insisted on calling the assistant Pratt, and no amount of correcting and reminding seemed to penetrate.

“—and warn him of the consequences should the incident be repeated.”

“I have warned him many times already.” She made herself look directly into Hamilton’s face. “I really don’t understand why you are so lenient with him. The young man is willful and quite immoral and I consider him a danger to the welfare of my students.”

“Don’t you think you are being somewhat harsh?”

A gleam had appeared in Hamilton’s eyes that warned her she was treading on dangerous ground. She pinched her lips, then muttered, “All I have to say to that, Mr. Hamilton, is that you will have to deal with the consequences should your ward damage the reputation of any of my students.”

“May I remind you, Mrs. Llewellyn, that it takes two to two-step.” He gave her a stiff bow, then turned sharply on his heel and strode away down the corridor.

Miserably she stared after him. The ache under her ribs was out of proportion, and should have been overwhelmed by the indignation of having her authority usurped in such an arrogant matter. Yet right at that moment what mattered to her most was that Stuart Hamilton had reverted to using her last name again. How very immature of her.

As she expected, Felicity and Essie received the news of her second vision of the red mist with completely opposite reactions. Felicity urged her to have Reggie check all the gas lamps in the building, while Essie begged her to turn her back on the ghost and refuse to help.

It was with some trepidation that Meredith retired to her room that night. Certain that the new ghost would visit her, she lay awake for some time, until sleep finally overtook her.

She awoke again with a start to find herself still in darkness in an icy cold room. The chill was familiar, and she fumbled for the matches lying on her bedside table. It was time to light the oil lamp, for her past experiences had taught her that any minute now, her next victim of circumstances was about to make an appearance.

With the lamp flickering at her side, Meredith waited while the room got colder and the silence thickened. Soon she could see it—a pink glow in the corner—growing, darkening, until the center was a fiery red.

Angry swirls coiled around in a flurry of whirlpools until gradually, a figure began to form in the middle of it all. Dark and black it rose, until Meredith could see it was a man.

Her heart began pounding and she clutched the eider-down to her chin. This was no friendly ghost, as the others had been. This was a man convulsed with rage, with flashes of lightning shooting out in every direction and his fist raised in the air in violent protest.

As always, she could hear no sound from the apparition, but she could feel the energy pulsing into the room, driven by the terrible fury of her unwelcome visitor.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “What do you want of me?”

The head turned in her direction, and now she could see his face. Handsome, even in anger. Young, with piercing blue eyes and an aristocratic nose. For a moment she saw a softening of his features, and then the torment returned, distorting his face once more.

He raised both hands, the fingers outstretched like claws, threatening her so that she drew back. Fright made her voice sharp as she flung a command at him. “Go away! I can’t help you. Leave me alone!”

He seemed not to understand, since he drew even closer, his lips drawn back and teeth bared.

Meredith reached for the small clock she kept by the bedside. Raising her hand she hurled it at the ghost, yelling, “Go away! Leave me alone!”

The clock flew through the apparition and hit the dresser behind with a thump before crashing to the floor. At the sound, the figure began to blur, the mist curling around as if to protect him. Then the red faded to pink, and the cloud shrunk to a puff of pink smoke, and disappeared.

Moments later, while Meredith was still trying to quell the tremors that shook her body, a loud rapping on her door made her leap up in fright.

“Meredith? Are you all right?”

It was Felicity’s voice, sharp with concern. Meredith scrambled out of bed, snatching up her dressing gown before rushing to the door. She flung it open and dragged a startled Felicity into her room.

“Whatever is it? You’re as white as a . . . oh, Lord.” Felicity’s sharp gaze raked Meredith’s face. “You’ve seen it again.”

Meredith nodded, then drew her friend over to the bed and sank down on the edge. “It was awful. A man, and he was enraged. Quite terrifying, actually.”

“Of course,” Felicity said, her voice heavy with malice. “What else can you possibly expect from a man—selfish, arrogant beasts.”

“I just didn’t expect . . .” Meredith shivered, and drew her dressing gown closer around her throat.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later.” Felicity sat down next to her. “After all, your first ghost was Kathleen, our dear departed teacher and friend, and the second was an innocent little girl. It was only a matter of time before you conjured up a man.”

Meredith bristled. “I did not conjure up anyone. He came to me. If I had any choice in the matter, I would much prefer to be left alone. This ghost business is becoming quite a nuisance.”

“That’s putting it mildly.” Felicity yawned. “I did warn you what would happen if you insisted on helping the other two. If there is such a thing as the spirit world, obviously the word has spread that there is a misguided woman down below who’s willing to risk life and limb to help whoever has died in questionable circumstances. No doubt they are all jostling each other to be the next in line.”

Meredith gave her a sharp look. “This is no laughing matter, Felicity. This man could be dangerous.”

“My dear friend, all men are dangerous. Believe me, I have good reason to know that.”

The sour expression on Felicity’s face was a familiar one. Meredith had always known that her friend had no time for any man, and had often felt the urge to ask her why.

The thought of lying alone in the dark, afraid to go to sleep for fear of nightmares, gave her the courage to broach the subject. Perhaps, if she kept Felicity talking for a little while longer, her nerves would settle.

Treading carefully, she murmured, “I wish I knew why you harbor such ill will toward your fellow man.”

Felicity slid a sideways glance at her. “Man being the operative word. I have nothing against women or children.”

“Then why, Felicity? What happened to you that made you detest every man on earth, good or bad?”

Felicity sniffed. “There is no such thing on earth as a good man.”

“Oh, come now. Must you be so judgmental?”

“When it comes to men, yes.” Felicity looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap. “Very well. I suppose I should have told you before now. I must ask, however, that you never pass this on to a living soul.”

“Of course. I promise.” Meredith settled herself in a more comfortable position. “Now tell me what happened.”

For a long moment Felicity sat in silence, until Meredith began to fear she had changed her mind after all.

The room grew quiet and still as they sat in the flickering shadows of the oil lamp, making Meredith nervous once more. She glanced over to the corner of the room, half expecting to see the red mist, but then Felicity stirred and sighed.

“Remember I told you I was the only girl in the family, and that I had four older brothers?”

“Yes.” There was something in the teacher’s voice that made Meredith begin to wish she hadn’t been so hasty in broaching the subject. Feeling guilty, she murmured, “You don’t have to tell me if it would upset you to do so.”

“No, I want to.” Felicity puffed out a breath that seemed to shudder as it passed her lips. “It’s just that I have kept the memories shuttered for so long, I had forgotten how painful they could be.”

“I’m sorry, I—”

As if afraid she might falter, Felicity cut her off. “My father . . . was a despicable monster. He idolized the boys, but made use of me. He did some awful things to me that . . .”

Her voice trailed off, and Meredith let out a cry of distress. “My dear, I’m so sorry. Let’s not talk of it anymore. I understand now. I should never—”