‘I don’t think she trusted Edmund,’ said Alice slowly. ‘And he was always around, wasn’t he? I think she had a gut feeling that it would be wrong to tell Edmund. Perhaps because of the Ashwood link to Crispin.’
‘Edmund always connected Crispin with Ashwood,’ said Lucy thoughtfully. ‘And Deb always maintained that Crispin’s illness affected him very deeply. When Crispin died, Edmund was on his own in the house. He – he had to stay there all night with the body until someone came, I think. He was only nineteen or so – it might have affected him, mightn’t it?’
‘Certainly,’ said Alice at once.
Lucy leaned forward and stretched out a hand to the thin figure in the chair, pleased when the white hand closed around hers at once. ‘I’m so sorry you lost all those people, Alice,’ she said. ‘Conrad, and Deborah and my mother.’
‘I have had great sadnesses in my life, Lucy dear,’ said Alice. ‘And I’ve lost a great deal. But I’ve also known some great happiness. Michael’s been one of those happinesses, of course.’ She smiled at him. ‘Since Michael turned up on my doorstep that day, there’s been a lot of happiness. And now I’ve got you, Lucy, dear.’ She looked at Francesca. ‘I’m rather hoping I’ll have you, as well,’ she said.
‘Tell us about Ashwood,’ said Fran, carefully not looking at Michael. ‘The site, I mean.’
‘Oh that.’ It came out carelessly, and Lucy thought only Lucretia von Wolff could sound so casual about the ownership of a large piece of land. ‘It was going for the proverbial song after the murders, which was how I managed to buy it,’ said Alice. ‘People were calling it haunted ground – such nonsense, because Leo Dreyer never had sufficient soul to haunt anything, and Conrad was always very dramatic but really he wouldn’t have hurt a living creature.’
‘Why did you buy it?’ asked Lucy.
‘To keep people out,’ said Alice. ‘To stop inquisitive journalists and sensation-seekers from delving around.’
‘And to protect Alraune.’
‘Yes.’
‘But – you agreed to let Trixie in to delve around?’ said Francesca.
‘Yes. By then I knew Alraune was dying,’ said Alice. ‘And I thought perhaps it was time to let the place be exorcized at last. I had already transferred Ashwood to him when they released him from prison – it seemed more straightforward to do that, rather than continually pay out the income to him. That’s when you and I met, wasn’t it?’ she said to Liam. ‘I rather enjoyed putting on the unworldly elderly lady act for you.’
‘You’re a disgraceful old ham,’ said Liam, and smiled at her.
‘Yes, I must have a dash of Irish blood from somewhere,’ she said, deadpan.
‘I don’t know about Irish blood, I don’t think you’ve ever stopped acting,’ said Michael.
Lucy said, very hesitantly, ‘You said Alraune was dying?’
‘Yes. I don’t think he’ll live for more than another week or two.’
Alice looked at Michael. ‘And then,’ she said softly, ‘perhaps there will be an end to the—’
‘Ghosts?’
‘Yes.’
‘And Ashwood itself?’ This was Liam.
‘When Alraune’s gone, Ashwood will be Michael’s,’ said Alice. ‘If he wants it.’
‘I don’t want it,’ said Michael at once. ‘I’d rather let CHARTH have it. They can bulldoze the whole lot and build something in its place to help those wretched teenagers.’
‘Get rid of the ghosts once and for all?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s rather a good idea,’ said Alice thoughtfully. ‘Liam, you and I will talk about that.’
‘I’m yours to command, Baroness.’
‘I suppose,’ said Michael after a pause, ‘after all this melodrama, you’d like another brandy, would you?’
‘Do you know, I believe I would. In fact,’ said Alice, ‘I suppose we’d all like one.’
As Lucy accepted the brandy, she said half to herself, ‘I wonder what’s happening to Edmund?’
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO