Page 24 of Ghost in the Garden
“Come on, girls,” Ida urged the maids, while she got out her flask. “Let’s have this washed up and then we’re done.” She took a healthy swig and stood. “Night, all. Don’t let me hear you much longer.”
Constance felt the gaze of the “footmen” upon her. She looked directly back at each in turn. There was curiosity and varying degrees of avid lust, so open that it had to come from a sense of power. And that, in servants, had to come from the power of their master. Lambert had power in their underworld, so no one crossed his nearest underlings either. Or refused their advances, no doubt.
Constance, however, was a master of such rejection.
After a considering look at each, she let her bored gaze slide to the curtained window and sat up straighter. “See any signs of Mrs. Lambert’s ghost when you were out there?”
“Don’t be daft,” scoffed Robin. “That’s women’s rubbish.”
“No it ain’t,” Bert argued. “Me and Pat both saw it.”
“Goldie told me,” Constance said. “Did you recognize her, then? Is she the ghost of some dead person in a painting or what?”
“You got some imagination,” Robin said. “I like that in a girl.”
“No you don’t,” Constance said carelessly. “You just called it rubbish. Well, is she?” she asked, gazing from Bert to Pat and back.
“I never saw anyone like her,” Bert said. “Mind you, it weren’t that easy to make out her face, what with the dark and the mist and her all veiled and ghostly like…”
“He’s right for once,” Pat agreed. “Total stranger.”
They’re lying.The realization came with a sweep of excitement that she could neither show nor challenge directly.
“But totally dead,” she said.
“None deader,” Bert said.
Constance gave a little shiver of anticipation. “Tell me what you saw…”
They were halfway through a story told in the clear hope of impressing her when a ringing bell interrupted them. But at least she’d learned the day, the time, and the direction of the sighting.
“Duty calls,” she said brightly. “I’ll bid you all goodnight now.”
She hurried up the back stairs to the main bedroom and found Angela seated at her dressing table in her nightgown and robe, brushing out her hair.
“Shall I do that?” she asked.
“Don’t be daft, I can manage,” Angela said shortly. “What have you found out so far?”
“Not a huge amount,” Constance admitted, glancing toward the connecting door that led to Lambert’s room.
“Don’t worry about him. He’s still in his office.”
What did he do there at this time of night?
Constance said, “I think Pat and Bert might know more about your ghost than they’re saying. I think they did recognize her, or at least suspect who she is.”
Their eyes met in the looking glass. Angela’s fell first.
“Is it possible?” Constance asked steadily.
“Course it is. They give you any names?”
“No. Perhaps you can.”
“I didn’t hire you to do the work for you,” Angela snapped.
“No, but I’m not quite sure why youdidhire us.”
