Finished Off (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 2) (3 page)

"Yes, well, I'm afraid Mr. Hamilton is quite unaware of the amount of work involved. Rather than inconvenience him, Miss Duncan offered to help me. I was hoping you would do the same."

"I'm sorry I can't be of assistance."

Sylvia's soft voice was hard to hear at times, her words made even more indistinct by the lisp. Even so, Meredith got the message. Sylvia was determined not to put herself out. Not even for her benefactor.

Meredith wondered what Hamilton would say to that. "Very well, I shall have to hire an assistant, I suppose. I
just hope Mr. Hamilton is agreeable to that request."

Sylvia's fleeting glance clearly conveyed her disinterest in the issue. "If that will be all?" She rose, making the question moot. She barely waited for Meredith's nod before sweeping out of the room so swiftly she almost closed the door on her long skirts.

Meredith buried her chin in her hand and propped it up with her elbow. Whatever was Hamilton thinking, hiring someone as insipid as Sylvia Montrose to take over Kathleen's curriculum? Kathleen had been full of life, always reliable, and ever ready with a helping hand and an amusing comment to brighten the day.

Meredith sighed. How she missed her. In so many ways.

She looked up as the door opened once more, and Felicity stuck her head in the gap. "It's almost suppertime. What are you doing still working in your office?"

Meredith shook her head. "It's all this work. With Kathleen gone, it's steadily building and I just can't keep up with it."

"What about Miss Prissy? I thought she was supposed to help you." As usual, Felicity made no attempt to hide her contempt for the new teacher.

Meredith gave her a reproachful look. "Sylvia has no experience with business matters, and doesn't feel she can be of assistance."

"Bosh. Tell her she has to help or else she'll be sacked."

"To be perfectly honest, I'd rather not work too closely with her." Meredith got up and wandered over to the window. Her office overlooked the lawns, and at the far end in the gathering dusk she could see Tom Elliott, the aging gardener, and his assistant, Davie. They were raking up piles of golden brown leaves that had fallen from the poplars lining the driveway.

The signs of an approaching winter depressed Meredith even further. "I shall ask Mr. Hamilton if I can hire an assistant," she said when Felicity had failed to comment.

"Well, if he agrees, let's hope he allows you to do the
hiring." Felicity joined her at the window. "Or heaven knows what kind of assistant we'll end up with."

"If not, I suppose we shall just have to make the best of things."

"How are you coming along with the recital?"

Meredith welcomed Felicity's attempt to change the subject. "I shall know better at rehearsal tomorrow." She turned away from the window and smiled at her friend. "In the meantime, I feel quite hungry. It must be time for supper."

Following Felicity out of the door, she made an effort to dismiss the problems of the day. She had more than the management duties of Bellehaven to worry about. Foremost in her mind was the coming night, and the possibility of a visit with the ghost of a small child seeking justice.

"Absolutely not!" Mrs. Wilkins took a firm grasp of
her rolling pin as if threatening to use it as a weapon. "No maids of mine are going to damage government buildings. I absolutely forbid it."

Olivia glared at Grace. "Can't keep your bloody mouth shut, can you."

"Sorry. It just sort of slipped out."

Olivia scowled at the cook. "Well, you can't stop us, anyway. What we do in our free time is our business."

"Not if it reflects on the school it's not." Mrs. Wilkins shuddered at the consequences of such a crime. "Imagine what would happen if some of them government officials found out two of our servants were breaking their windows. They'd shut down the school, that's what. Then we'd all be out of a home and a job. Is that what you want?"

Grace sent a nervous glance at Olivia. "Of course we don't, but—"

"No buts, my girl." Mrs. Wilkins brandished her rolling pin. "I'll box both your ears if I get so much as a hint that you're planning to do anything like that. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mrs. Wilkins." Grace dropped her chin and stared at the floor.

The cook nodded. "Good." She looked at Olivia, and braced herself for another bout of arguments. "Olivia? Do I make myself clear?"

To her surprise, Olivia merely shrugged. "I s'pose."

"Then you promise me you won't go breaking no windows?"

"All right."

Mrs. Wilkins stared at the girl, wanting to believe her. "Good," she said at last. "I hope I can trust you both to keep that promise. Now, let's get this food into the dining hall before everybody starves in there."

Watching the two girls carefully as they loaded up the trays, she couldn't tell if they were really complying with her demands and forgetting any idea of sabotage, or if they were simply pretending to go along with her wishes.

She hoped and prayed it was the former. Whether the maids realized it or not, what she had told them was true. If they were caught doing damage to government buildings, there'd be hell to pay. For all of them. It could even mean the end for Bellehaven.

Even if the constabulary didn't shut the place down, who would want to send their daughters to a finishing school where the servants broke the law and quite possibly ended up in prison? It just didn't bear thinking about.

That night, Meredith had almost fallen asleep when
the familiar chill crept across her bed—a breath of cold air that had nothing to do with the bite of the autumn wind outside. She knew immediately what it meant. A ghostly presence had invaded the room and needed her attention.

Heart thumping, she reached out until her fingers touched the oil lamp on her bedside table. Drawing it closer, she turned up the wick, then felt for the box of matches. Her fingers shook as she touched flame to wick, and soft light bathed the room.

Although she had tried to prepare herself, it was still a shock to see the misty outline of the child floating just a
few feet away. Carefully, Meredith raised herself up until her back rested against the iron bars of the bedstead. "Hello," she said softly.

The child hovered a few inches above the floor. Slowly she raised one arm and pointed across the room.

Meredith frowned. Perhaps Felicity was right, and it was something on the chest of drawers that interested the ghost. "I don't understand what you mean. Are you pointing at the photograph?"

The child continued to point.

"The jewelry box?"

Still the child pointed.

Meredith let out a puff of air in frustration. "I wish I knew what it is you are trying to tell me."

Until that moment, she had not had a clear vision of the ghost, but as she finished speaking, the mist surrounding it seemed to clear. For an instant she glimpsed the sweet face of the child—light blue eyes, blond curls, and rosebud lips.

Struck by the beauty of the young face, Meredith felt a strong tug of compassion and sorrow. She stretched out a hand toward the child, but as she did so, the mist clouded up once more and swallowed the vision. Moments later, it vanished.

Shaken, Meredith got out of bed and reached for her shawl. The floorboards chilled her feet as she walked over to the chest. Once more she studied the photograph of herself with Daniel—he looked so handsome in his uniform. Raw pain caught her in the throat.

Carefully, she picked up the ivory statuette he'd given her. She heard again his voice, telling her that the model of mother and child had resembled how he'd envisioned her once the baby was born. Though the statuette was a constant reminder that she had lost their son, she still couldn't bear to part with the last gift Daniel had given her.

Even now, the wet tears clouded her eyes as she ran her fingers over its smooth surfaces. It was the shock and pain of Daniel's death that had caused her to lose her baby before he'd had a chance to draw breath.

She glanced across the room to where the ghost had hovered moments earlier. How the parents of that dear child must be suffering, having actually held her and watched her grow. That sweet face would haunt her forever, now that she'd seen it.

Even though the ghost had left, she hoped that somehow, somewhere, the child would hear her. "I will find out who you are, I promise," she said quietly. "I will do my best to find out who was responsible for hurting you and see that he is punished. But I'll need your help. I need you to give me a sign that will guide me on the right path."

She waited, fingers clenched, as the seconds ticked by. No cloud appeared, no ethereal mist, no shadowy figure of the child. Even the chill had left the room, and the air was still.

Aching with disappointment, Meredith climbed back into bed. She had given her promise and she was bound to keep it. She had set herself a monumental task, however, and one that seemed near impossible without the help of the child herself.

She lay awake for a long time. The little girl seemed so much more real to her now that she'd seen her face. How long ago had she died? Meredith didn't want to think about the manner in which she'd died.

When Kathleen had first appeared to her as a ghost, it had taken several visits before the teacher had actually conveyed the fact that she had been murdered and began giving her clues. Perhaps it would take time for the child to do the same.

She would just have to be patient. Not one of her virtues. But come what may, she would not rest until the killer was brought to justice. Perhaps then she could give some comfort to the parents, and allow the little girl to rest in peace.

The following morning Meredith had little time to
dwell on her dilemma. She was late in arising, and had ar
rived in time for the morning assembly out of breath and out of sorts.

Assemblies were held in what had once served as a ballroom before Stuart Hamilton had bought the ancient mansion and turned it into a finishing school. All that remained of its former grandeur were two crystal chandeliers and the gorgeous pale blue carpeting on the balcony stairs.

The stage served as a platform for the instructresses while Meredith presented her morning address, for which this particular morning she was not fully prepared.

It didn't help matters when she saw Sylvia Montrose seated in the chair Kathleen had always occupied. Until now she had managed to keep the chair vacant, in memory of the late teacher.

Meredith's immediate thought was that Sylvia had sat there on purpose, to prove some ambivalent point. In the next instant she chided herself for her uncharitable conclusion. There was no reason why Sylvia should not sit in Kathleen's seat. After all, she was supposed to be there to take her place.

Even so, it rankled, and when the restless students took too long to settle down for the morning address, Meredith's rebuke was a little sharper than she'd intended.

She was quite thankful when she could dismiss them all and proceed to the dining hall. If she were fortunate, breakfast would improve her disposition and restore her good humor.

Felicity fell into step beside her as she marched down the long corridor to the dining hall. "You seem a bit liverish this morning," she said, keeping her voice low as they passed a group of chattering young women. "You must not have slept well."

"I slept too well." Meredith quickened her pace to keep up with her friend. Felicity always walked as if she were afraid to waste a single moment on such a mundane activity. "That was the problem. I overslept."

"Ah . . . then you must have been late in falling asleep."

Meredith glanced at her to find Felicity's keen gaze probing her face. "Yes," she said quietly. "I was."

"The ghost again, I suppose."

"Hush!" Meredith glanced around, relieved to see that everyone was out of earshot. "I must ask you not to mention it unless we are alone."

"Sorry." Felicity nodded with good humor. "So, did she tell you anything?"

Meredith sent her a suspicious look. She could never quite tell if Felicity really believed in her ghostly encounters or if her friend was merely humoring her. "No, nothing other than pointing at the chest again."

Felicity shook her head. "Frustrating. I don't know how you can put up with all that. I know I couldn't."

"I don't seem to have much choice." They reached the doors of the dining hall, where raised voices suggested most of the school was assembled. Felicity left to take her place at the head of one of the long tables, leaving Meredith to continue on to her own seat.

The smell of bacon stirred her appetite, and she filled her plate with sausage, bacon, scrambled eggs, fried tomatoes, and fried bread. The moment she picked up her knife and fork, however, she felt no desire to eat, and had to force the food down.

The students at her table were all in the choir, and were anxious to discuss the rehearsal that morning. Meredith answered their questions as best she could, but her mind was occupied with the sweet face of a child, and the lost look in her pale blue eyes.

By the time she arrived in the music room for rehearsal, Meredith felt a little more alert. The fifteen expectant faces turned toward her reminded her of her obligation—to present the best performance possible.

Pushing away her worries for the moment, she raised the lid of the piano and sat down. As always, the touch of the piano keys beneath her fingers soothed her, and as she played the opening introduction to Bach's beautiful composition, she began to lose herself in the music.

The voices soared in unison, producing a pleasant enough sound, though a little too unsynchronized for her satisfaction. She lifted her hands and waited for the voices to die away into silence.

Standing, she faced the girls. "That was very nice, ladies. The notes are on key, and now we just need to bring it in a little sharper. Like this." She opened her mouth and began singing, punching the air with an imaginary baton to emphasize the beat.

Meredith had always maintained that while she didn't have much of a voice, she did know how to emphasize in the right places. She was doing so with gusto when it occurred to her that her students' attention had wandered toward the door.