Chapter 3

It was just after 17:00 when the shopping contingent came back to the estate. Being in a valley with mountains all around, deep shadows were everywhere, and lights flickered on all over the castle. The west wing was cast in darkness, as this part of the castle was not in everyday use.

I was relaxing in the private lounge with a book I found in the library, not from Uncle Alex’s private collection in the study, but from the library on the first floor.

I was still slightly chilled, but not enough that it was necessary too light a fire in the fireplace. Supposable Sam will insist on getting an inferno going, but I intend not to be in the private lounge all night, feeling that I would rather retire for the evening after supper. I did feel a little tired after the day out in the fresh air.

Snuggling back into the deep armchair, and I was just getting more comfortable when Maggie came in with a mug of coffee.

“Coffee, Sir Bruce? I thought you might enjoy one now, before it might spoil your supper,” she offered as she placed the mug on the side table.

“Ah, thank you, Maggie. It will be nice.”

She thought for a moment, then asked, “I thought you said you like coffee in a mug?”, and folded her arms across her chest.

“Oh, I do! There’s more, and it keeps longer,” I said. “I’m a coffee pot.”

“So, you don’t drink tea, Sir?”

“Sometimes. But not always. Why do you ask, Maggie?”

“Well, sorry me saying, Sir, but it seems like some of the Royal Albert set in the pantry has been washed recently. Two cups, two saucers, two side plates and a dish...”

“So? In a setup like this household, I don’t think it is strange. Do you think Sam or someone else might have used it?”

“Sam doesn’t eat my pastries. There’s five missing from the batch.”

“Oh boy, we have a pastry thief in the castle. Shall I call the cops?”

“If you had it, it’s no problem, Sir,”

“Okay, Maggie, you caught me out. I must say that was the most magnificent, tasty apple Danish I ever had. You should bake some more!”

“And you had tea with it? Earl Grey tea?”

“Yes, Maggie...”

“Two cups?”

“Yes, Maggie...”

“Two side plates?”

“Yes, Maggie...”

“And you went about and washed it too, Sir”

“Yes, Maggie...”

“I did not know you liked Earl Grey tea. The only one here who ever drank Earl Grey was...”

“Amelia?”

“Y ... Yes, Sir...” she stammered.

“Maggie, sit down, please.”

“No, I’m fine, Sir.”

“Maggie ... I want to talk with you. Sit down, please.”

“Yes Sir,” and she sat on the arm of the easy chair across from me.

“Did your investigation of the pastry and tea party lead you out to the patio next to the ballroom?”

“No, Sir. Why?”

“Because that is where I had it. Together with my ... guest.”

“You had a guest, sir. But then it is in order. Sorry I questioned you, but I am protective of that Royal Albert set.”

“Yes, Maggie, I appreciate your concern over the Royal Albert set, but the guest made the tea and used the tea set, and served the pastries...”

“A female guest, Sir?” she asked, and smiled.

“Yes, Maggie. Someone who knows your pastries and how you bake them, where you keep them and where the tea and the tea set was.”

“Who will that be, Sir! I don’t know anyone that...”

“Amelia Iona Sinclare-McIntyre,” I said, and Maggie went pale. “Don’t be afraid, Maggie. Yes, she’s here, in the castle, on the grounds and sleeping in her room.”

“I ... I...”

I saw her, Maggie, talked with her, and played the piano for her. We had tea together, and by the way, she might be here in this room, right now.”

“I ... I...”

“Don’t be afraid, Maggie. Amelia is good, loveable and adorable. She won’t hurt anyone.”

“Don’t ... mess with ... me, Sir!” Maggie whispered.

“I’m not off my rocker, Maggie. At first, I thought I was losing my marbles, but she introduced me to Apollo and Zeus. We went riding together, and ... she showed me where it happened. Just before the bend in the road, about two kilometres from here.”

“Zeus and Apollo, two peas in a pod, always together, always causing mischief...” Maggie said wistfully and looked at me. “I felt her in the Castle, Sir. I knew it. She’s here!”

“Don’t tell anyone, Maggie, it’s our secret.”

“Very well, Sir. I won’t say a word of it.”

“Good. I’ll let you know if she’s got a message for you. That is, if she comes again this evening, or tomorrow.”

“She comes around during the day? I thought ghosts only appear at night!”

“She’s not a ghost, Maggie. She’s a spirit, looking after the ones she holds dear.”

Maggie started to cry softly. “Why, she’s an Angel. She was always, and now she...”

“Never mind, Maggie. Just know she doesn’t mean anyone any harm,” I soothed. Just then she appeared next to the fireplace, still dressed in her short summer dress and cream-yellow pumps. She had loosened the braids, and her hair cascaded over her shoulders. Amelia just looked at me and smiled.

“She’s here, Maggie. Next to the fireplace...”

“I told you she would blame you for the tea party! Tell her she went a little sparse on the raisins in the apple Danish.” Giggle.

“Maggie, she jokes and says that she told me you would blame me for the tea party and that you did not put enough raisins in the apple Danish...”

“That is something she would say. She always told me to put more raisins into the apple Danish...” Maggie said and turned towards the fireplace, smiling. “But why can’t I see her and hear her?”

“Tell her ... Tell her, tonight ... when she switches off the lights in the hall entrance ... to turn around and stand still, ‘Auntie Mags’ will see ‘Scooter’ go up the stairs to her room... ” Amelia said.

I repeated Amelia’s words to Maggie.

“Auntie Mags! Scooter! That is something you would not have known. She always called me Auntie Mags. My pet name for the little tomboy was ‘Scooter’!” Maggie exclaimed and wiped her eyes with a hankie that she pulled out her left sleeve. “She’s really here...”

“Our secret, Maggie. Remember it’s our secret. But you caught me out with the tea and the pastries, else I wouldn’t have let on about Amelia.”

“Thank you, Sir. Now I know I’m not going cuckoo. There are too many signs that there was something ... something not right in the castle...”

“It’s okay, Maggie. Just keep doing what you always did.”

“I will, Sir. Now, I must be going,” and she turned towards the fireplace. “I’ll see you then later, Scooter. Be good!”

Amelia responded, and as Maggie got up, I passed it on, “Amelia said: Good night, Auntie Mags. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

“Yeah, that is her. She’s here...” Maggie muttered, and slowly walked out the lounge, looking over her shoulder towards the fireplace, as if she still doesn’t believe what just happened. I got up and went over to the fireplace.

“Scooter?”

Giggle. “Yes! That’s what she called me. She said I was always running somewhere. Scooting somewhere ... Or scoot out under her feet!”

“Beautiful.”

“You make me blush.”

“You are beautiful when you blush. I caught it twice now...” I praised, and Amelia looked down and blushed. “See! I rest my case, ye ‘onner!”

“Stop it.”

“I’ll never stop saying it. It is the truth. And I will always say it.”

“Bruce...”

“Yes, Ammi?”

“No ... Never mind. I think I must go now...”

“Why? The night is still young...”

“I have an appointment ... on the stairs, you know?”

“Will I see you again ... tonight?”

“Maybe...” And she blushed again, but smiled a shy smile, and then just ... disappeared; gone; leaving me stunned. She seems so real, but then she reminds me that she is a spirit, by just dissolving into thin air. Damn!

Slowly the sounds in the castle came to an end as the staff all retired for the night. Sam, as usual, checked all doors and windows, while Maggie started to switch off all the lights. She left only the little night lights on in the passages and hallways.

Her last call before retiring to her quarters was to attend to the entrance hall. She left the outside light on and started to douse all the other lights. As she came to the big double oak doors of the entrance, she hesitated a moment. Then she reached out her hand and switched the light of the big chandelier to off. It was semi dark in the entrance hall, with only the dim light from the two night lights, one on each side of the hall, casting their eerie yellow glow over the floor.

Maggie turned towards the side door leading off to her quarters. With her heart bouncing about in her chest, she looked over her shoulder towards the stairs going up to the first and second floors of the castle.

Faintly, in the shadow, she saw a white apparition. At first, she could not distinguish it from the rest of the stairs, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw a girl in a long white dress slowly floating up the stairs; long white hair flowing over her shoulders.

Maggie felt faint, and covered her mouth with her left hand to stifle a scream. Is it what she thought it was? Then the transparent figure of the girl turned sideways on the stairs and looked over her shoulder. The transparency gradually solidified; the white hair became golden blond, falling over the shoulders of the girl like a flaxen waterfall; and pale green eyes looked at Maggie with a soft light in them.

Maggie stood transfixed. She had been expecting it, but the reality of the moment paralysed her, and a hot glow infused her body. It was Amelia on the stairs!

Amelia smiled, then lifted her hand and waved. “Good night, Auntie Mags. Sleep tight, don’t let the bedbugs bite...”, her long forgotten sweet voice echoed hollow through the hall. Then she turned, floated up the stairs, and dissolved into thin air at the top of the stairs.

Maggie’s legs buckled at her knees. She fainted...

I was reading my book, trying to clear my mind and not think of golden tresses and pale green eyes. This was becoming a problem for me. I never believed in ghosts, or spirits, or anything supernatural. No, not me! But here I was, experiencing something I never believed in; never dealt with; never understood; and yet, Amelia seemed so real.

My mind kept drifting to her. I tried to concentrate on the written words on the page before me, but after rereading the same passage thrice, I gave up.

What now? Reading is out of the question.

Maybe I’ll just take my guitar out of the case and play awhile. That always helped me relax. Just play a few chords: no meaning; no structure; just a few chords. I got up out of the chair and fetched the guitar case standing in the corner of the room.

“You better get down to the hall. I think I made poor Maggie faint.”

I jumped as Amelia’s sweet voice spoke to me. I dropped the guitar case on the bed, turned around, and there she was: standing by the door, her hands behind her back, leaning up against the door. I did not hear the door open or close; Amelia just appeared.

“Why did she faint? I thought she expected you.” I asked.

“I think the moment was too big for her. Even if you expect something, when it does happen it can leave you stunned. Go help her...”

“Don’t go away! Wait here,” I exclaimed and dashed out the bedroom.

I took the stairs two at a time, and I nearly slipped and missed the last step. Maggie was stirring next to the door leading to her quarters. She had gathered herself onto her knees and was trying to reach the doorknob to pull herself up.

I got to her and placed both my hands under her armpits and heaved her up. She was unsteady on her feet, but she turned to me, pale in her face.

“She ... she ... was here ... on the stairs! I saw her..., and she spoke to me. She spoke to me, Sir!”

“Calm down, Maggie. Calm down. Let’s get you to the lounge and some brandy for ye,” I said, and led her off to the formal lounge, just off the entrance hall.

“You were right, Sir! She is here ... here in the castle. Oh, the sweet darling! Why can’t she rest ... what makes her to ... wander?” Maggie mumbled as I steered her to the lounge.

“That, Maggie, I can’t tell you,” I said as we reached the lounge, and I helped Maggie to sit down in a chair.

“She was as beautiful as always. She never aged a year! It was the girl I knew a long time ago. Twenty-six years ago...”

“I told you, Maggie. But don’t be afraid. She means you no harm,” I said as I poured a double shot of brandy into a glass for her.

“Why, Sir Bruce, why?”

“If I find out, Maggie, I’ll let you know,” I said as I handed Maggie the glass.

“There’s so much I want to tell her. So much I want to ask her...”, and she drained the brandy in one gulp, pulled a face, and shuddered. “Damn! This stuff is yucky when it’s neat.” Just then, Sam came into the lounge.

“Sir! I heard a commotion. What’s wrong?”

“Oh, Maggie slipped on the stairs and fell on her knee. It all seems okay, she’s just a little shaken up,” I fibbed, thinking fast to dodge the real reason for Maggie’s distress.

“Oh dear. Maggie are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes ... yes, I’ll be fine. Just help me to my room, please.”

“Are you able to walk, Maggie?”

“Yes, just my knee hurts a little, but it will be okay by morning.”

“Then let me help you to your room.”

She rose and Sam helped her out of the lounge. As she went through the lounge door, she looked over her shoulder and mouthed “Thank you,” to me. I just smiled and said:

“Good night, Sam, Maggie.” Then I followed them out, switched off the light, and took the stairs to my room.

I opened the door to my bedroom and stepped through. Amelia was lying on her side on the bed, her feet drawn up, her left hand supporting her head, reading my book. Her golden hair cascaded down her left side. She was a picture of loveliness, so serene, so relaxed, so pretty.

“‘Without Remorse’, Tom Clancy? You do have taste in stories,” she said, and she looked up and smiled.

“I like it on the wild side. That guy can write a scene without gloves on. He doesn’t soft-pedal anything. He writes technical detail without being boring and does in-depth research. I didn’t know you like Tom Clancy.”

“Yip, for the same reasons you do,” Amelia answered, and closed the book. “Sorry, I think I lost your place...”

“That’s okay. I memorized the page number.”

“How’s Maggie?”

“Better, I think. I gave her some brandy and Sam took her to her room. She looks okay, just a little rattled.”

“Sorry ... I just tried to do good. Maybe I should just stay away ... from everything ... and everyone...” she murmured and looked sad. “I should make peace with the fact that I’m no more ... of this world.”

“Don’t!” I exclaimed. “I like having you around. I like talking with you,” and I sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Thank you, Bruce. You make me feel ... wanted...”

“Yes. I like being with you...” I said.

“Because?”

“Because you are fun, and...”

“And what, Bruce?”

“I ... I was thinking...”

“Say it, Bruce. I can take it.”

“I wanted to say; lively, outgoing, playful...”

“Lively?” Amelia giggled. “Ain’t that a little out of character? I’m dead, you know...”

“Don’t remind me. I don’t want you ... dead...”, and I looked away.

She got up on her knees and hugged me from behind, placing her head on my shoulder. She felt real, warm, and I could smell her perfume.

“I so wish I met you long ago, before I ... died. Things could have been so different...”

“Yeah ... I feel the same...” I said, and she went quiet. She hugged me closer and harder. Something wet dripped on my hand, and I realised she was crying. She was crying real tears! Or is this just an illusion?