Property of a Lady(63)
We’ve talked to Ellie as much as we dare – not wanting to revive the nightmares which, thank the lord, have been quiescent for the last week – and she says, in that unconcerned way, that yes, Aunty Alice did used to tell really great tales. An old house in England, and a man who used to sing and knew spells for putting people to sleep. “Sleeping Beauty stuff,” she said. “I don’t believe all that, of course. It isn’t cool to believe fairy stories.”
We asked what kind of a man Aunty Alice talked about, and Ellie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He had black eyes.’
I don’t know about you, Michael, but it seems clear to me that Alice had talked to Ellie about some of the psychic investigations she did – not spookily or frighteningly, because beneath the crusty exterior she had a heart of gold and she loved kids. But she’d tell stories they might find fascinating – stories they wouldn’t have come across before. And she was a world-class raconteur when she got going, I’ll say that for her.
So there you have it. The explanation for Ellie’s nightmares, we’re absolutely certain of it. Happy ending. And we’re setting off for JFK tonight – there’s a stopover in Paris, and Liz says we should make it a three-day stay at the very least. I dare say I can be made bankrupt as easily on the Left Bank as I can anywhere else. Then it’ll be London on or about the 22nd. OK for you?
Liz and Ellie send you their love. I send whatever’s appropriate and manly!
Jack.
‘Is it the explanation?’ said Nell, after a long pause.
‘It could be for Ellie. But it doesn’t explain what I saw,’ said Michael. ‘Or what happened to Beth.’
‘Or what I saw and heard in the old churchyard where we found Beth. Or,’ said Nell, ‘what Alice saw for herself forty years ago.’
‘Harriet saw it as well, thirty-odd years before Alice,’ said Michael.
‘There are two things I could bear knowing more about,’ said Nell, thoughtfully. ‘The first’s William Lee himself. There didn’t seem to be a grave for him in the churchyard, if you remember? And Alice mentions a local legend—’
‘That he was dead and underground these seventy years, but sometimes still seen in the house,’ said Michael. ‘Does that mean William is the man we both saw?’
‘I don’t know. But it sounds as if there’s something peculiar about his death,’ said Nell. ‘You remember the clock I bought for Liz?’
‘The one in the drawing room? The property of a lady.’
‘Yes. Nineteenth-century long-case clock, mahogany and rosewood, and it was made—’
‘By Brooke Crutchley.’
‘Yes! How did you know that?’
‘Because I’ve got a photocopy of the catalogue on my desk. Jack sent it. It says, “Brooke Crutchley was the last of the famous clockmaking family, and this piece was made for William Lee. In view of the manner of William Lee’s death, this item is expected to realize a high figure”.’
‘I suspect,’ said Nell, rather drily, ‘that the auctioneers added that bit about William to push up the price. But the clock came from Charect all right. Alice and Harriet both mention it, if you remember.’
‘I do. And I thought I heard it ticking that first day I was at the house,’ said Michael. ‘Only, I couldn’t have, because there was no clock in the house at that stage. Sorry, did you say something?’
‘I think I shivered,’ said Nell.
‘You said there were two things. What was the other one?’
‘Oh, to try to pin down when and why the name of the house was changed. It was Mallow House until around 1890. If a ghost legend started up around then, that’s probably the reason for the change.’
‘You mean somebody local thought it might ward off the evil influences?’ said Michael incredulously.
‘I do know how flaky it sounds,’ said Nell, a bit defensively. ‘But this is a small market town, remember, and in 1890 it wouldn’t have been much more than a village. They probably still had a resident witch and leapt through the bonfire at Halloween.’
‘And they say the countryside is boring,’ said Michael, smiling. ‘Nell, I’m coming back next week. Term finishes here on Tuesday, and unless I can catch up with Jack and head them off, I’ll have to be around to explain what’s been happening. I thought I’d drive up on Wednesday.’
‘I wonder if I’ll have found William Lee by then.’
‘I expect you and Beth will have family things to do for the holiday, but if not, would you both come out to lunch somewhere one of the days?’
He had no idea how she would respond, and he thought there was the tiniest pause. Then she said, ‘I think we’d like that very much. We haven’t got any family things to speak of. Thank you.’
‘I’ll ring you when I get to the Black Boar. Oh, and I’ll post the photocopies of Harriet’s journal tomorrow. Till next week, Nell.’
Nell had decided to start the search for William Lee with death records. This would mean the archives office again, where she had found the initial letters between Alice Wilson and the local council official who had called her in. She would drive over there after dropping Beth at school.
Beth was pleased to hear they were going to have lunch with Michael and excited about the Christmas preparations for the shop’s open day. Nell had found some Victorian glass decorations, and they were going to spend the weekend putting them up. There would be gold and scarlet everywhere, and a huge tureen of warm punch, together with mince pies. Beth thought this was pretty good.