Page 9 of Christmas Spirits at Honeywell House (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #3)

AUbrEY

‘Them little sheds are all over the place,’ Florence announced as she skipped into the drawing room in the Wyndhams’ upstairs suite.

‘All round the edge of the green, and down Victoria Walk. It looks proper smashing. Immi reckons there’s gonna be lights ’anging up everywhere, an’ all. It’s gonna look like fairyland.’

Aubrey stifled a smile as Agnes rolled her eyes, in evident despair at Florence’s failure to pronounce her aitches, despite the poor woman’s endless elocution lessons.

‘I’m sure it will look splendid when it’s all done,’ he told his little girl, ruffling her hair with affection.

‘Immi says there’s gonna be a Father Christmas, an’ all,’ Florence told him eagerly. ‘And there’s gonna be loads of food on sale. We’ll be able to smell it all! Immi says?—’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, child!’ Agnes could obviously bear it no longer.

Florence stared at her. ‘What’s rattled your cage?’

‘It’s going to, not gonna! And if I hear you say, “Immi says” one more time I shall scream.’

Florence dropped onto the sofa and leaned towards Aubrey. ‘What’s up with Mother?’ she whispered.

‘I’m sure it’s nothing, dear,’ he assured her. ‘Don’t take it personally.’

He was fairly certain he knew exactly what was up with Agnes. When she was frightened, she could be quite bolshy, and it was very clear to him that she was frightened now – frightened that Florence was about to ask her the impossible, and not for the first time.

‘All this talk of a Christmas market. What nonsense it all is,’ Agnes muttered.

‘The festivities shouldn’t start until Christmas Eve.

I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again.

This is not a time for putting up little sheds and gaudy lights and expecting people to spend far too much money on silly fripperies.

What happened to reverence? That’s what I’d like to know. ’

Florence frowned. ‘Reverends? You mean like that old goat, Reverend Alexander?’

Agnes stiffened at the very mention of his name, and Aubrey said hastily, ‘No, my dear. She said reverence. That means having a deep respect for something sacred. Christmas is, after all, about the birth of Our Lord.’

‘Hmm.’ Florence didn’t sound too impressed. ‘Anyway, that reminds me, I saw the old goat today. ’E was walking up and down the green, muttering to ’imself and shaking ’is fist the way ’e does. I think ’e’s a bit barmy.’

‘You mustn’t say such things,’ Aubrey said gently. ‘The Reverend Alexander is a?—’

‘Monster,’ Agnes said abruptly. ‘A nasty, spiteful man who you should keep well away from. Florence, I forbid you to go anywhere near him.’

Florence blinked. ‘Why the ’eck would I want to go anywhere near ’im? I’m just saying I saw ’im when I was out and about, that’s all.’ She turned back to Aubrey. ‘’ Is ’e a monster, Poppa?’

‘Not at all,’ Aubrey assured her. ‘He’s a God-fearing old gentleman with very strong personal views. That doesn’t make him a monster. It just makes him – difficult.’

‘Oh. Well anyway, Immi—’ She corrected herself as Agnes glared at her.

‘ I was wondering, are you two gonna come to the village one day? I really want you to see them little sheds when the lights go up. And there’s gonna be lights all over the village, you know.

And quite a few Christmas trees, from what I ’ear!

It’s gonna be lovely. And, Poppa,’ she added, wrapping her thin little arms around his, ‘it’s all Victorian.

You know, like what it was when you was alive.

You wouldn’t want to miss that, would you? ’

Aubrey swallowed as he looked down at her earnest little face.

He felt such a rush of love for this child, who had come into his afterlife completely unexpectedly when she’d arrived at Harling Hall as a wartime evacuee, only to tumble to her death down the stairs.

Since then, he and Agnes had taken care of her and treated her like their own child.

Indeed, in their eyes she was their own child.

It still humbled him that she’d accepted them as her parents and evidently loved them almost as much as they loved her.

Yet here they were, about to let her down once again. He lifted his gaze to Agnes, an appeal in his eyes. She quickly turned away from him.

‘I wonder if we shall have snow this Christmas?’ she said, gazing out of the window over the drive.

There was a short silence. Aubrey knew Agnes too well. She was, no doubt, hoping to change the subject, knowing how excited Florence normally got by the arrival of snow. This time, though, their daughter wasn’t biting.

‘Well?’ she demanded, turning to her mother. ‘What about it?’

Agnes didn’t reply, still facing the other way.

‘Agnes,’ Aubrey said gently, ‘Florence is speaking to you.’

‘She is?’ Agnes spun round reluctantly, feigning surprise. ‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’

Florence sighed. ‘I was saying, will you come to the village for the Christmas market? It’s gonna be ever so much fun, and it ain’t fair.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Agnes mumbled. ‘I know it’s unfair to you, Florence, really I do?—’

‘I ain’t on about me!’ Florence cried. ‘I mean it ain’t fair on you two.

You always miss out on everything, and it makes me sad.

I want you to ’ave a bit of fun. All the other ghosts will be going.

You’ll see the Roman stomping around, keeping an eye on everything.

’E’s a proper sight for sore eyes! And I’ll bet even the old goat will ’ave a good nosy round, ’owever much ’e complains. ’

Aubrey mentally shook his head, realising that Florence, by her mention of Silas Alexander, had just said the one thing guaranteed to make sure he and Agnes went nowhere near the village.

He looked over to where his wife was standing and gave her a pleading look. She straightened but looked away, clearly unable to meet his gaze.

‘We shall see,’ was all she could manage. ‘Now, are you in for the foreseeable future, Florence? Because if you are, I think we have time for an elocution lesson. What do you say?’

‘I say, no bloomin’ fear,’ Florence said, scrambling off the sofa. ‘I’m off to the kitchen to see Mia and Brian. I’ll see you later.’

‘You won’t go outside, will you? It’s getting dark now,’ Agnes cautioned her.

‘No. I’ll stay in, honest.’

Florence skipped out of the suite and Agnes joined Aubrey on the sofa, heaving a sigh of relief.

‘Well played,’ he said, rather more abruptly than he’d intended.

She looked at him in surprise. ‘I have no idea what you mean.’

‘The one thing guaranteed to send Florence scuttling from this room was to suggest a lesson, as well you know.’

‘I find that suggestion quite offensive,’ she said indignantly.

‘Agnes, we must discuss this situation once and for all. It can’t go on.

Why, do you realise we haven’t been outside the grounds of this house for…

’ He tilted his head, trying to remember.

‘Well, I don’t even know how long it’s been,’ he admitted in the end, ‘but it’s certainly many years.

Don’t you miss the village? Don’t you miss the sights and sounds and smells of Rowan Vale?

Wouldn’t you like to stroll by the river?

Maybe even venture further afield to visit the stones? ’

‘We have everything we need here,’ she said with a sniff.

‘But we don’t have companionship,’ he pointed out heavily.

She turned to him with astonishment in her eyes. ‘What can you mean, Mr Wyndham? We have Lawrie and Brodie, and Callie and Imogen, and Mia, and Brian?—’

‘Brian is a kitten,’ Aubrey said, trying not to lose patience.

‘And the cleaners, and the gardeners. We have more than enough companionship, I should think.’

‘Only three of those people can see us! And what about the other ghosts?’

‘Fiddlesticks to the other ghosts! A motley collection of souls if ever there was one.’

‘That’s hardly fair, Agnes. Anyway, you used to like conversing with Mr Swain. You always said he was a most genial and respectful chap.’

‘Hmm. And you used to like conversing with that dreadful Isaac Grace,’ she reminded him. ‘You said he was quite a character.’

‘So he is.’

‘That’s one word for it.’

‘Oh, Agnes, for heaven’s sake!’

It wasn’t like him to raise his voice, and he regretted it immediately when he saw the look of fear in her eyes.

Mortified, he clasped her hand in his. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I didn’t mean to be so sharp with you. You know I would never hurt you, don’t you?’

‘Of… of course,’ Agnes mumbled.

‘I just… Agnes, I feel increasingly restless within these walls.’

‘But we have the grounds, too.’

‘I want to go to the village. I want to visit Isaac in The Quicken Tree. Callie and Brodie go to some event there each week, you know. A quiz of some sort. I’d like to go with them and see what happens there.’

‘I can imagine all too well what happens there,’ she said shakily.

‘I’d like to go to Midnight Mass at Christmas,’ he said quietly. ‘Wouldn’t you?’

Agnes was silent for a very long time. Aubrey was about to ask the question again when she said finally, ‘You know we can’t go to the church, Mr Wyndham. And you know why.’

Aubrey rubbed his forehead, feeling increasingly frustrated. ‘But we can’t let one man stop us from living our afterlives, Agnes! I don’t understand why you’re so against this. We used to frequent the village and yes, Silas may have said some things, but we ignored him, didn’t we?’

‘You may have done,’ she said. ‘I did not. He wounded me deeply. The things he said! The insults he hurled! The terrible aspersions he cast on us, in full view of all the ghosts. It is not to be borne, Mr Wyndham!’

‘I know, my dear, but?—’

‘Did you not hear him that night when Callie invited all the ghosts round? He was outside the gates, warning them not to enter this den of iniquity! Den of iniquity! He was referring to us and our – arrangement! Oh, I’ll bet they had a good chortle about that at our expense,’ she finished bitterly.

‘I don’t really care if they did,’ Aubrey said.

‘What I care about is Florence. She wants her parents with her. It’s not right that she must always visit the village alone.

We couldn’t go to the 1940s weekend with her, and can you imagine how much that would have meant to her, given her personal history?

Now, here we are, letting her down again.

I do not want to let my child down, Agnes. Can’t you understand that?’

‘Of course. Of course I can. I… I?—’

To his horror, her eyes filled with tears, and she began to shake uncontrollably.

He hadn’t seen her in such a state since the evening of the 1940s ball, when her panic had ensured he’d had to stay with her in their suite and miss the entire event.

He still regretted not meeting Quintus Severus, but of course Agnes came first, always.

‘Agnes?’ He was filled with remorse and pulled her into an embrace, holding her fiercely as she quivered against him. ‘I’m so sorry, my dear. So very sorry. I wouldn’t distress you for the world.’

‘I can’t – I can’t cope with it all, Mr Wyndham,’ she managed.

‘I know, I know. I understand. Really, I do. We shall speak no more about it,’ he promised her.

‘But – but Florence?—’

‘Florence has Imogen and Callie. She can go with them. I’m sure she’ll enjoy herself just as much without us two old fuddy-duddies bothering her.’

Agnes sniffed. ‘Are you quite sure?’

‘Of course I’m sure. Now, are you quite yourself again? Let’s have no more of this unpleasant talk. We still have Christmas to look forward to at Harling Hall, and I’m quite sure the Davenports and Callie and Mia have lots of wonderful things planned within these walls.’

She nodded. ‘I’m sure they have,’ she agreed. ‘Thank you, Mr Wyndham. I’m afraid I have one of my headaches coming on.’

‘It’s the stress,’ he told her kindly. ‘That was my fault, and I can only apologise once again. Why don’t you go and lie down, my dear? When you wake up the whole subject will be forgotten, as if it was never discussed.’

Agnes smiled and kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Mr Wyndham.’

‘Think nothing of it,’ he said.

She headed into her room, head clutched in her hands as if she was in great pain.

Aubrey sat back on the sofa and sighed. Had he really expected a different outcome? Not really, but it still hurt.

Ah well, so long as Agnes was all right, he would make sure Florence understood the situation, and that their Christmas would be as perfect as it possibly could be in the circumstances. A wonderful family Christmas.

They were, after all, the only family he had left.