Suitors and Sabotage(54)

Percy and Jake stood in the narrow corridor, gasping.

“Lud, that was a climb and a half.” Percy clutched at his neck-cloth dramatically. “Forget the ghost. No one should use this room on account of the stairs.” He tried to look around Matt, his head bobbing from side to side.

“Yes,” Matt said in a tone emulating the frostiest of butlers.

“Call off your man, Ernest,” came Jake’s disembodied voice.

“Thank you, Matt,” Ernest said, switching places with their valet. “To what do we owe this honor?”

Ben could hear the distrust in his brother’s voice, and, apparently, so could they.

“Well, we’re here to show you that while we might like a bit of fun…” Percy’s braying laugh delayed the rest of his explanation. “We are not liars. Wouldn’t care—or give you the time of day ordinarily—but it turns out that you are good company after all. So we are here to divest you of the suspicion that we were up haunting last night.”

“Haunting is the least of it.”

“Yes, yes, I know. The burr. We can say ‘not us’ only so many times. Perhaps if you accept our word about the haunting, you might be less inclined to lay blame over the burr.”

“There is no logic in that.”

Ben heard Jake huff. “Fine. Come, Percy, they don’t want to be convinced. Still see us as villains. Their loss.”

Ben chuckled. “Was that an attempt at acting or manipulation, Jake? Either way, it was poorly done.”

Jake’s head appeared over the shoulders of the two blocking the doorway. He grinned. “Can’t blame me for trying,” he called.

“May as well invite them in, Ernest. See what they have to say for themselves.” Ben took a few steps back so he could lean casually against the wall while providing more space for the intruders—now, their guests.

As the two young men crossed into the room, Ben told Matt to head to his own bed. The valet was not best pleased with the idea of leaving without fulfilling his duties. However, he allowed that he could iron out the wrinkles of their coats in the morning … because it was most likely that the coats would be hung incorrectly and be in need of care.

Ben just nodded; it was easier that way.

“Lawks, this is a small room.” Jake glanced around. “Don’t know if our plan will work.”

“What plan is that?” Ernest asked, taking up a position by the head of the bed.

Percy reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a deck of cards. “Whist.”

“Whist can prove that you are not behind the moaning and groaning?” Ben said, his words full of skepticism. “How?”

“Simple. We play until the ghost appears, and then you know we are not responsible.”

“And if the ghost does not appear?”

Jake shrugged. “Well, then it is just a full night of whist. Wouldn’t be my first.”

In the end, Ben and Ernest sat on the bed; Jake leaned against the washstand while Percy leaned against the windowsill. It was rather cramped, and as the time ticked slowly by, rather pointless—for the ghost was in absentia.

“You realize that your guilt is still in question—if not more so, now.” Ernest collected the cards and began to shuffle. And yet, despite saying so, he looked relaxed.

Jake grinned. “Most erratic creatures, the tormented spirits—” He paused, tilted his head, lifted one side of his mouth in a lopsided smile. “There.”

Sitting and standing, almost not breathing, the four of them waited and listened—with eyes widening.

Softly, as it had begun the night before, a voice whispered, growing louder and changing into a moan, only to drop into a whisper once more.

“There,” Jake said again. “Now we know you weren’t lying.” He glanced at Percy. “We thought it a bag of moonshine.”

Ben snorted a laugh. “That makes better sense.”

*

“IT LASTED NEAR on two hours,” Ben told Imogene and Emily the next day as he stifled a yawn. They were sitting at the table in the morning room breaking their fast. Not many were up and about as yet, the sideboard still laden with foodstuffs. It was as if the damp had drained the company of their humors.

“We traipsed up and down the stairs trying to find the source to no avail. Percy thought the sound might be coming from the roof; Jake thought the room below. But we checked, and nothing.”

“So it truly is a ghost,” Emily said in a voice filled with awe.

Imogene watched Ben blink, lean forward as if unsure that he had heard correctly, and then sit back and rub at his temple. “Ah, no. I don’t believe so. We have just not caught the culprit as yet. Or it might be something as innocuous as a whistling breeze through the halls.”

Pursing her lips together, Emily waited a moment before speaking. “Oh dear,” she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “I did so want to meet a wandering spirit.”

“I believe Ben is too tired to recognize funning, Emily.” Imogene picked up her bread to add a scraping of strawberry jam. It was a pretext—she couldn’t eat. She glanced over at Ernest, seated sedately beside his brother, sipping his coffee … and staring at her over his cup.

“Yes, of course you were.” Ben shook his head as if to clear it.