Thomas also looked excited. “It was a white lady and she wafted across the lawn and then she vanished.”
“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” I said, “but I suspect that was me. I ran across to the big house in the middle of the night. My husband was taken ill and I ran across wearing a shawl over my night clothes, so I was your white lady.”
Alex shook his head. “No. This white lady didn’t go anywhere near the front of the house. She ran to the tower at the side where there is no door. We tried to look down by hanging out of our window, but she had just vanished and there was nowhere she could have gone.”
“It was a ghost,” Thomas agreed. “We think we’ve heard ghostly noises before in this place but nobody believes us.”
“You believe us, don’t you?” Alex asked.
“That’s enough nonsense,” their nursemaid said. She took them both by the arm. “Ghosts indeed. Back into the house right now. March. On with you.”
They gave me a regretful look as they were borne away. A white lady who wafted across the lawn and then vanished. I didn’t like to tell them that I was inclined to believe them.
Twenty
I stood looking up at that turret as I made my way back toward the house. It stood solid and windowless at one corner of the castle, its stone sides covered in dense ivy looking incredibly old and foreboding. It was only at the very top, where the turret rose above the level of the battlements that there was a window—in which I had seen a strange child’s face. But the face I had seen had definitely been that of a child, and they were talking about a white lady. Was there more than one ghost that haunted this castle? It didn’t seem possible in a building so new.
I went back to Daniel and persuaded him to try a little broth.
“What news on Hannan’s death?” he asked. “Have I missed anything?”
“We’ve heard nothing more,” I said. “But I’ve had interesting chats with some family members. Mrs. Flannery, Brian’s sister, can’t believe that it would be a family member, but then she mentioned her grandson Sam who had become a Junior Eastman before Brian took him over.”
“And he was the one who supposedly discovered the body when he went out early to go fishing.” Daniel said the words thoughtfully. “I’d be interested to hear the coroner’s report on the time of death. Maybe the body hadn’t lain there since the night before after all.” He tried to sit up. “I wish I’d had a chance to—”
“Lie back. You’re not going anywhere,” I said firmly. “You heard what the doctor said. Absolute rest and quiet because of the possibility of a relapse.”
Daniel sighed. “It’s not easy to be at the scene of what could be an interesting murder and to watch it probably being bungled by a small-town cop.”
“Such prejudice.” I smiled. “You New Yorkers really do think you’re the bee’s knees, don’t you?”
“I just happen to be a top-notch detective who has solved any number of murders.”
“I seem to remember when we first met, you were about to throw me in jail for a murder I didn’t commit,” I reminded him.
“Well, you had guilt written all over you. And I got it right in the end, didn’t I?”
“Only just.” I pushed back the dark curl that had fallen across his forehead. “Anyway, I want you to go on being a brilliant detective for many years to come. So rest now. I’m going to take a little nap myself. I didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Daniel’s hand closed around mine. “You did a splendid job, Mrs. Sullivan.”
I went downstairs and lay on the sofa with the rug over me. I was just drifting off to sleep when there came a light tap at the front door. What now, I thought. No peace for the wicked. I paused to smooth down my hair before I opened the door. Irene Van Horn was standing there. The last time I had seen her she had been in her night attire with hair spilling over her shoulders and eyes red with crying. Now she was back to the perfect vision of loveliness I had seen the day before, except that the dress was dark-green shantung—the closest to black that she had brought with her, I suspected. Her face still looked pale against the dark fabric—like a delicate porcelain doll that might shatter easily.
“Mrs. Sullivan. How is your husband doing?”
“Much better, thank you. His fever is down and he seems to be making good progress.”
“I am glad.” She gave me a tired smile. “I was just talking to my husband and he commented how distressing it must be for you to have your honeymoon turned into such chaos. I’m sorry but with our own grief we have not given much thought to you and your needs until now.”