Page 12 of Kindred Spirits at Harling Hall (Ghosts of Rowan Vale #1)

12

Mia left Immi and me to finish unpacking while she headed downstairs to prepare dinner, which would be served at six o’clock sharp.

Immi still couldn’t get over how large her new room was. ‘I could fit a double bed in there easily, you know,’ she informed me, a gleam in her eyes. ‘Also, I was thinking, if we do get a bigger telly for the living room, can I have our old one in my room?’

‘What, so you can watch YouTube until all hours? I don’t think so,’ I said, smiling. ‘Besides, I’m not getting a bigger telly. How would I pay for it?’

My smile faded. I’d been such an idiot. I’d been so preoccupied with how I was going to feel being surrounded by ghosts, that I hadn’t given much thought to how I was going to afford to live here. A big house might sound amazing, but it would cost a lot of money to keep it going. And what about the rest of the village? There would be repairs and maintenance. How was I supposed to fund that?

I felt a sudden panic as it dawned on me that neither Brodie nor Sir Lawrence had mentioned any of that stuff, and I’d been too stupid to ask. Naturally, there’d be rent coming in from the village’s tenants, and there was an entrance fee to the estate, plus parking fees, but would that be enough to cover all the costs? Had I been taken in? Had this all been one giant con? What if they were struggling to cope and had offloaded the whole problem onto my shoulders, and now they were planning to scarper and leave their worries behind?

I should have read the epic ‘rights and responsibilities’ document! There could be anything in there. How did I know I hadn’t agreed to take on a mountain of debt? I could be in court before the end of the year.

‘What are you thinking?’ Immi asked suspiciously. ‘You’ve got that look on your face again.’

‘What look?’ I asked warily.

‘The look that means you’re worrying about something and you’re trying really hard not to show it because you don’t want me to worry about it too.’

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘I was just wondering how much those big tellies are, that’s all.’

She beamed at me. ‘I knew you’d come round to the idea!’

‘Hmm.’ I glanced at my watch. ‘Okay, we’d better go down to dinner. We don’t want to make a bad impression on our first day, do we?’

She slipped her arm through mine, and we headed out of our room, along the landing, and down the staircase.

‘Oh no,’ I murmured, seeing Agnes and Aubrey in the hall. That was all I needed. I’d hoped to spare Immi the pleasure of Agnes’s acquaintance for at least the first day.

Aubrey glanced up and saw us descending the stairs. He nudged Agnes then beamed at us. ‘Good evening, Miss Chase. Immi.’

‘Hello, Mr Wyndham!’ Immi said cheerfully. She nodded politely at Agnes. ‘Hello, Mrs Wyndham.’

Mrs Wyndham? Hmm. I thought she was called Ashcroft.

‘You’ve met?’ I asked Immi. ‘When did that happen?’ I gave her a stern look. ‘Did you sneak out of your room when I thought you were sorting out your bookcase?’

She looked guilty. ‘I just wanted to have a quick look around, that’s all. I can’t help it if I bumped into Mr and Mrs Wyndham, can I?’

The casual way she talked about meeting up with ghosts blew my mind. I wasn’t sure whether to be proud of her or terrified for her. How would she ever have a normal life and be accepted by other children with this curse hanging over her? Not every kid was like Violet.

We stepped into the hall and Agnes pursed her lips as she looked me up and down in obvious disapproval. Was I supposed to change for dinner or something? I had a sudden horrible feeling that Sir Lawrence and Brodie would be in evening dress. And there was I, still in my leggings and T-shirt! Then again, Agnes was in a nightgown and bed-jacket, so she could hardly talk.

‘Your daughter took it upon herself to visit us earlier,’ she told me. ‘Barged into our room without so much as a knock on the door. Quite appalling manners.’

‘Immi, you didn’t,’ I said in dismay.

‘No, I didn’t,’ she said, eyeing Agnes with some reproach. ‘The door was open. I waited outside until they noticed me and then I went in. They never said I couldn’t,’ she added.

‘It really doesn’t matter,’ Aubrey said hastily. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Immi, as I’ve already said.’

‘Are you going to dinner?’ I asked, wondering what they were doing in the hall.

If I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn there was a sharp intake of breath from Agnes, although given that she’d been dead for goodness knows how many years and hadn’t taken a breath in all that time, it was hardly likely. She certainly did a good impression of it, though.

‘Dinner?’ she said bitterly. ‘What would be the point of that?’

I could feel my face burning as I realised my faux pas. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, meaning it. ‘I never thought…’

‘Clearly,’ she said.

‘No harm done,’ Aubrey told me. ‘As a matter of fact, we’re on the lookout for Florence. She should be home by now. We’ve told her time and time again not to stay out past five.’

‘They never listen, do they?’ I said, in a desperate attempt to worm my way into their good books. ‘Kids, eh?’

‘Quite,’ Aubrey said.

‘Florence is a free spirit,’ Agnes said with a sniff. ‘One cannot entirely blame her for choosing to ignore instructions on occasion.’

Her expression didn’t match her words, though. I could see she was torn between concern and annoyance, and I knew that feeling all too well. I suppose most parents do.

‘She can tell the time, right?’ Immi asked.

‘Of course!’ Agnes spluttered.

‘Well,’ Aubrey amended, ‘she can tell when it’s five o’clock. We’ve taught her that much and told her to stay where she can see the church clock, so she won’t be late. She tends to get rather confused with watches and clocks. Not to worry. She’ll be with John and Robert, no doubt. Up to all sorts of mischief.’

‘I can go and look for her if you like?’ Immi offered.

‘I – I wouldn’t put you to any trouble,’ Agnes said hesitantly.

‘It’s no trouble. I’m happy to help.’

I swear Agnes visibly softened as she stared at my daughter. That harsh gleam in her eyes vanished, and it was like she was finally seeing Immi for the little girl she was and realised that all she was trying to do was make friends.

‘That’s kind of you,’ Agnes murmured. ‘Thank you, Imogen. Perhaps?—’

She broke off as Aubrey said, ‘Ah, here she is! Young scamp.’

Florrie, or Florence as Agnes obviously preferred, came skipping through the front door. Literally. It was a bit of a shock seeing her pass lightly through the solid wood, but I supposed it was just one more thing I’d have to get used to.

She looked completely unconcerned about being late, plaits flying, little wellies looking incongruous with her cotton dress and knitted cardigan. She stopped skipping when she saw me and Immi, though.

‘Oh,’ she said. ‘You’re here then.’

‘Manners, dear child,’ Agnes said gently. ‘Florence, this is Imogen. She’s Miss Chase’s daughter, and she’s ten years old, just like you.’

‘I’m eleven next week,’ Immi said.

‘Lucky you,’ Florrie said coldly. ‘I’ll never be eleven.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ Immi said immediately.

‘I’m sure Immi didn’t mean anything by that,’ Aubrey told his daughter.

Immi looked stricken. ‘I promise I didn’t.’

‘Don’t care if you did,’ Florrie said. She pushed past Agnes and ran up the stairs. ‘You can go boil your ’ead for all I care!’

‘ Head , Florence! Boil your head !’ Agnes called after her.

‘I say,’ Aubrey said with a tut, ‘we really must have words with that child about her manners. I’m so sorry, Immi.’

‘Yes, well…’ Agnes looked deeply uncomfortable. ‘I expect she’s had a trying day, keeping an eye on those two young rogues. We’ll leave you to your meal, Miss Chase. Imogen.’

She headed up the stairs and Aubrey went to follow her. ‘It’s lamb,’ he whispered in my ear as he passed me. ‘It smells utterly delicious. It’s a cruel trick of fate that one’s sense of smell is only heightened after death. I can’t touch or taste anything, but oh the scents on the air…’ There was a yearning tone to his voice that told me he’d give anything to be eating dinner with us that evening. Bless him.

‘That went well,’ I said to Immi, who wrinkled her nose uncertainly.

‘I didn’t mean to hurt Florrie’s feelings,’ she promised me.

I ruffled her hair. ‘I know you didn’t. Florrie isn’t exactly the most genial of children. If I were you, I’d keep well out of her way.’

‘Mrs Wyndham doesn’t want me to play with her anyway,’ she confided, as we headed to the dining room. ‘She says I’m too modern for her.’

I never thought I’d agree with Agnes on anything, but I was on her side about this. The less Immi had to do with Florrie, the better.