Chapter 17

seventeen

“ Y ou must tell me everything,” Daisy demanded.

His sister was all but bouncing on the leather seat as he guided the sleek cabriolet away from the hotel and toward the lakeshore. Their plan was to enjoy a quiet picnic and visit the Bostwick cottage site to see the construction progress, but he’d carelessly let slip he’d gone to visit Miss Greta Watson earlier that morning and now his sister was—not surprisingly—peppering him with questions.

“There is not much to tell,” he said, giving a gentle shake to the reins so old Henry might step livelier.

Alex was grateful Trudy had reduced his bandage to a mere finger splint allowing him more use of his hand, even if that had required him to be dishonest regarding how much it still ached. Apparently his threshold for discomfort was greater than his threshold for the embarrassment of having a wounded pinky.

“Not much to tell?” Daisy asked. “How could that be possible given all you’ve experienced lately? Especially with Isabella’s ghost. I think you’re just not telling me the truth.”

He scoffed good-naturedly at her scolding, which only served to aggravate her more—so she punched him in the arm.

“Ow,” he said although it didn’t hurt. “Striking me isn’t very ladylike of you.”

“And it isn’t very gentlemanly of you to tease me with dribbles of information when you know my curiosity is an unquenchable thirst.”

He looked at her askance. “Well, at least you’re not being melodramatic about it.”

She punched him again. Harder this time making the chiffon ruffles of her cuff ripple in the breeze.

“Behave yourself. Stop hitting me and perhaps I will tell you exactly what occurred with Miss Watson.”

Daisy crossed her arms and gazed at him expectantly.

They were taking a long, circuitous route that led them around the perimeter of the island. The wind was gusty, causing miniscule white caps to form over the lake and waves to splash along the shore more noisily than usual. Overhead, cottony white clouds occasionally blocked out the sun, but the day remained pleasantly warm.

He handed Daisy the reins so he could shrug out of his jacket—which was another ungentlemanly thing but perhaps they would not come upon anyone else on their ride. And besides, both he and his sister had already been caught without hats, an offense his mother was likely to hear about since they’d encountered Breezy VonMeisterburger on their way through the lobby.

A few of the more overbearing gossipmongers were still giving him the cold shoulder, but he’d decided the best way to defeat them was to meet their disdain with such impeccable manners and affability they’d have nothing else to judge him for. Hopefully the absence of a hat today didn’t knock him down another peg with anyone other than Breezy.

“Well? I’m waiting,” Daisy said with a huff as he took back the reins.

“Patience is a virtue, little sister,” he teased.

“So is persistence. Tell me every detail.”

Unable to resist, he said, “Very well. I walked into the parlor adjacent to her room. The rug was burgundy. Miss Watson’s assistant greeted me at the door. She was wearing a blue dress and a white pinafore. Miss Watson herself invited me to sit down with her at a small table and offered me a cup of tea which I declined. She offered me coffee instead and I said yes. Then she asked if I’d like milk or sugar, and I said?—”

“Hang it all, Alex!” His sister punched him a third time. “Must you be so tiresome?”

His laughter startled the birds overhead, but teasing Daisy was still a favorite pastime. “You told me to tell you every detail and now you punish me for it. Make up your mind.”

She shook her head and scowled like an angry kitten, and at last he relented.

“All right. I’m sorry. I will tell you the pertinent details only. Miss Watson and I conversed for only a short while. She informed me that I have, and I’m quoting here, built an impenetrable spiritual fortress which makes my aura too murky to read. I don’t actually understand what that last part means but the gist I got from her was that I’m guarded and not giving off any clues as to what I may be thinking or feeling which allegedly makes it difficult for her to, and I’m quoting here again, have a chitty chat with my angels and foretell my destiny.”

Daisy gave a little chuff of laughter. “So, you’re telling me that the only thing she told you is that you’re guarded? I could’ve told you that much,” Daisy said.

“I warned you there wasn’t much to share. You didn’t believe me. Although she did mention something about me needing to put forth an effort to try new things, and you’ll be pleased to know that I assured her I would do so.”

There. Perhaps that would satisfy his sister. Daisy was still worried about him, and he was determined to make her stop. Which was precisely why he did not admit to her that Miss Watson had also informed him he’d allegedly built a secondary fortress around his dear tender heart (her words, not his) which made it nigh on impossible for him to trust anyone. This was not a revelation to him. Nor would it be to Daisy if he were to confess it to her.

He gave another gentle slap of the reins to Henry’s backside to pick up the pace.

“Miss Watson did say I could go back when I was ready,” he added.

“When will you be ready?” His sister sounded more exasperated than supportive.

“I have no idea. I thought I was ready this morning.”

Truthfully, that was another lie. While he may have been ready to ask Miss Watson about ghostly capabilities and whether or not a phantom could leave calling cards, he was neither ready nor interested in taking down his spiritual defenses . He quite liked them where they were.

“However,” he continued, “you may also be pleased to know I asked her about mysteriously appearing items.”

Daisy turned to him once more, her eyes brightening with renewed interest.

“You did? What did she say to that?”

He and Daisy waved to a carriage passing by in the opposite direction containing Mr. Thomas Pendergrass and his family. They were a plump, smiling bunch and waved back enthusiastically which pleased him. There were still several guests at the hotel Alex felt were avoiding him, but just as many seemed to have put aside their concerns over the manner of his wife’s death. Of course, if they knew she was haunting him, those concerns would likely reignite.

“Miss Watson said spirits could move any variety of items but that it was difficult for them to pinpoint their energies. In other words, if they want to move something heavy, say, a brick, they could do it, but everything around that brick would feel the force. I asked her about leaving a letter inside of a closed book and she said the energy necessary to open the book would likely damage the pages, and that it would be nearly impossible for a spirit to tear up a letter like the one I found in my boot. I didn’t mention anything about Isabella, though. I told her I had a beloved grandmother leaving me trinkets.”

Daisy snorted at that since both of their grandmothers were shrewish old women who hadn’t liked them as children and didn’t much care for them as adults, either.

“Why a grandmother?” she asked, humor lacing her tone.

He might regret telling her this next part, but his sister always seemed to find her way to the truth anyway so he may as well admit it now.

“Because Dr. Hart and I have come up with plan.”

“You have?” Her humor shifted toward surprise.

“Yes. We’re meeting with a few of the spiritualists, telling each of them an identical story about a dear old granny who is leaving us trinkets, and then afterwards we intend to compare the information we have gathered.”

“For what purpose, exactly?”

“For the purpose of proving either the plausibility or the implausibility that it’s Izzy who is haunting me.”

“You think it could be some other spirit haunting you?”

He smiled over at her patiently. “Not some other spirit, Daisy, but perhaps a human being.”

At her frown he added, “Surely the possibility of it being an actual person has crossed your mind.”

“I suppose, but who would do that? And why? And how?”

“Those are all the question we aim to answer.”

She was quiet for a moment, seeming contemplative, until she said rather forlornly, “Why didn’t you include me in this plan. I’ve been trying to help you since the beginning.”

Her disappointment was palpable, and he felt it.

“I’m sorry, Daisy,” he said with all sincerity. “I didn’t want to worry you. You’ve been fretting over me for months and I didn’t want to add to that. You should be spending your days laughing with your friends, not stewing over how to repair my ill-fated history and damaged reputation.”

She blinked back tears and Alex wondered just how many girls he was going to make cry this summer.

“I just want to be useful,” she said tremulously.

“My goodness, what a thing to say! You’re always useful, Daisy. You always have been, and since Izzy died you’ve aided me in more ways than you will ever know. Even on those darkest days, you could always make me smile when no one else could.”

“I’m glad for that. But you must let me do more. Bring me in on this plan you have.”

Her expression was pleading and placed him in an unexpected quandary, although he probably should have anticipated it. Of course, Daisy would want to help. She always wanted to help everyone—all the time. But she was not the most discreet when it came to secrets and her close relationship with Lorna created a unique predicament.

In fact, he realized with a wave of remorse, perhaps he shouldn’t have admitted any of what he’d just said. He knew she would never deliberately do anything to cause him more difficulty, but she might do so inadvertently by sharing too much. Then again, perhaps if she knew everything, she’d understand the need for secrecy. Regardless, he’d said so much there was nothing to do but inform her of the rest.

“I will bring you into our plans, if your heart is set on helping, but Daisy there’s something you must promise me.”

“Of course. Anything.”

“Promise me that nothing, and I mean nothing, that pertains to this situation or what we’re doing about it can be shared with anyone. Not mother, not your most trusted friends, not your cousins, not Adele or Lorna.”

“But I think Lorna could be useful, too.”

“No, Lorna cannot be a part of this. You may trust her, but I don’t know her. Promise me you will keep this between you, me, and Trudy.”

She nodded, her expression serious. “Very well. You have my word.”

Alex guided the buggy to a small clearing just off the road and pulled up the reins. Henry shook his head with a horsey snort as they eased to a stop, and Daisy pulled the picnic basket up from the floorboards. As they enjoyed the view of the lake and ate a delicious meal packed for them by Mrs. Culpepper, Alex told Daisy of his conversation with Trudy. He shared the questions she’d asked and the lists she’d made. And when he told his sister who’d they listed as potential human culprits, her eyes went round with surprise—but then she doubled over and laughed with abandon.

“Do you honestly think Mother or I would do such a thing?”

“Of course not. It’s simply a list of who would have the means to carry out such a prank.”

“We may all have the means, but Mother would never lower herself to engage in a prank. She might hire someone, but she would not do it herself,” Daisy said with a giggle. “As for me, you know I’m not mean-spirited like that, and quite frankly, neither is Lorna. She’s the tenderest soul I’ve ever met. Adele thinks you’re a prince, Esther is nearly one hundred years old, and Ellis and Finn are both as dull-witted as spittoons. They would have certainly been caught by now. Surely there must be someone else for that list who you just haven’t thought of yet.”

“I am open to suggestions if you have any and agree with you wholeheartedly. The potential involvement of any of these individuals, including you, defies rational thought, but then again, so does thinking it might be Isabella. That’s why I’ve resorted to meeting with a psychic. Regardless, not a word of this to anyone. Anyone at all. Agreed?”

“Yes. Yes, agreed,” she said as she wiped her hands on a red-checked napkin. “Except…”

“Daisy,” he warned, already regretting what he’d shared.

“I know. I promised and I will not breathe a word of this to anyone but why haven’t you told Chase?”

“It hasn’t come up in conversation.”

Although the topic had been on the tip of Alex’s tongue a dozen times when he’d been with his brother, each time, something held him back.

“I think you should tell him,” Daisy said, her expression turning somber. “He’ll be confused if he finds out about this once it’s all resolved and hurt that you didn’t trust him.”

“It’s not a matter of trust.”

“What is it, then?”

Alex turned in the buggy to face his sister. “How do you think Chase will react when I tell him I’m being haunted ?”

She considered this only for a moment before responding, “Ah, yes. I see. He may struggle to take you seriously.”

“For which I would not blame him.”

“I understand. Now… might I ask you another question on a different topic?”

He sighed. “If you must.”

She gazed at him for a moment, and then asked quietly, “Are you… fond of Trudy?”

“Good heavens, Daisy. Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

The girl was all guileless innocence, but she knew what she was about.

“Don’t try to fabricate an association out of nothing just to amuse yourself,” he said.

“I’m not asking just to amuse myself, and it didn’t seem like nothing during the scavenger hunt. You two were thick as thieves and you hardly said a word to me or Lucy.”

“That’s not true.” Was it?

“I don’t mean you ignored us. The day was pure delight. I’ve seldom had such fun, but whenever we walked from one location to the next, you and Trudy were side by side, whispering and laughing.”

“We were not whispering. You’re imagining things and it’s not helpful. Dr. Hart and I are friends. That is all.”

“Hm,” his sister murmured with a toss of her head. “I’ve heard that song before.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning you sound just like Chase. He spent all last summer insisting he and Jo were only friends and yet look at them now. Married with a child on the way.”

“That’s different. Chase wasn’t in mourning.”

Daisy scoffed. “Neither are you. I mean… I know you’re sad about what happened to Izzy. We all are because her death was a tragedy, but lamenting her passing is not the same as recovering from a broken heart. It’s not as if you two were happily in love. You were miserable, but now, you’re smiling again. In spite of this haunting business, I’ve seen you laugh more with Trudy in the past few weeks than I saw you laugh the entire time you were with Isabella. Trudy’s good for you and I like you two together.”

Alex felt his jaw clench as he turned to look out over the water. Not because he disagreed with Daisy, but rather because his sister was right. Trudy was good for him. Being around her made him feel lighter and brighter and—dare he admit it? Optimistic. And he was fond of her, but that didn’t mean what Daisy hoped it might mean. It couldn’t.

Could it?

He gave a single nod without looking at her. “Yes, Trudy’s friendship is probably good for me. In fact, yes, I’m sure it is, and I enjoy her company but that’s all there is to that, Daisy. Let’s not complicate things.”

“How would being fond of her complicate things?”

“How would it not complicate things?”

His voice had risen to an embarrassingly unmanly octave, and he cleared his throat, bringing it back to his typical, robust, masculine register.

“Until I figure out how to stop Izzy’s stockings from appearing next to my shaving kit, I have neither the time nor the inclination to think about anything else. I’m certainly not free to court anyone. I’m not even free to contemplate courting anyone.”

Daisy sighed. “That’s exactly why we need to get Isabella’s spirit untethered from you,” she said. “As soon as possible.”

“Her spirit untethered? What are you talking about?” He felt weary just from asking the question.

His sister’s eyes were suddenly alight with emotion, as if whatever she was about to impart to him was very exciting—and also terrible.

“I think the reason Izzy keeps leaving you all those trinkets and sundries is because her spirit is tethered to yours. Quite frankly, I’m surprised Miss Watson didn’t say anything to you about it this morning because it seems rather obvious to me. Anyway, she explained it to me in great detail the other day. Isabella’s spirit is clinging to you for some reason.”

“Clinging to me?” he said dryly

“Yes. Clinging or tethered. It means the same thing,” she said impatiently. She even had the audacity to roll her eyes as if she could not understand how he could possibly not understand. “You’re going to need a powerful medium to free you from Isabella,” she said, matter-of-factly. Then added with a casual wave of her hand, “And we might need to schedule a séance.”

She included that last bit flippantly as if it were a simple, almost insignificant detail. As if she’d said, “Go to the butchers for a pound of ham hocks, a large brisket, and oh, don’t forget to schedule a séance.”

“A séance, Daisy?” Good Lord. He should not have brought her into any of this. He felt like a locomotive careening off the rails.

“Perhaps a séance,” she said. “Or perhaps not. It’s possible Madame Moyen can free you with just a few sessions between the two of you, but you won’t know until you meet with her.”

“Madame Moyen? Why Madame Moyen?” Not that it mattered. He was not going to participate in a séance no matter what this medium might say. Where did his sister even come up with such notions?

Land sakes! All this time he’d been worried he wasn’t quite right in the head. But perhaps it was Daisy who had cracked.