An English Lord's Love Affair

Chapter 19.2. An Abberation

   Sir Humphrey voiced his doubts about the existence of the Strathmere Ghost that evening in the parlor. Charlotte and Paulina were playing an unexciting game of piquet in the corner. Aunt Penelope was trying unsuccessfully to communicate again with Ares, who was staring wistfully at the door with his head buried between his paws. It was past the time for his nightly walk.

   "I feel he is trying to say something," Penelope said, on her hands and knees before the hound.

   "Probably 'Help! I am being accosted by a lunatic,'" her husband muttered from his armchair. "Damnation, Pennie, do get up from that humiliating position. Are you even sure it was a ghost tou saw in the garden the other night? How do you know it was not the dog hiding in the trees?"

   Aunt Penelope gave him a frosty glare. "I daresay I know the difference between a dead man and a dog." She glanced past him to the window. "And once again, I sense that something is not right with poor Strathmere."

   Humphrey snorted. "Well, he's dead, for starters. How much more 'not right' can the poor sod be?"

   "Language, Humphrey!"

   He put down his book. "I'm taking the dogs out for a walk."

   Ares and the two sheepdogs dozing by the fire sprang immediately into action and raced to the door. Charlotte looked up from the card table, her face brightening.

   "This late at night, Humphrey?" Aunt Penelope asked in concern. "Do you think it is safe?"

   "My family has lived in Chistlebury for half a century, and the viscount's murder is the first of it's kind. I doubt that his death was anything but an aberration."

   "May I come, Uncle Humphrey?" Charlotte called after him.

   "Certainly not!" her aunt replied before Humphrey had the chance. "I have just received a letter this morning from Henry and Lizzie in London. As I have already written back to reassure them that you are enjoying a peaceful retreat from your former, let us say, attraction to misfortune, I feel compelled to assure them that it is true."

   "So I cannot go?" Charlotte asked in disappointment.

   "There is absolutely nothing in those woods or its environs that should attract a young lady at night."

   "Except for the viscount's ghost," Paulina said softly behind her hand of cards.

   Sir Humphrey let the dogs sniff ahead as he took a detour off the familiar footpath through the woods. There was little moonlight to guide him to the ferny escarpment that marked the edge of Strathmere's estate. But he had often walked this pleasantly overgrown track, using his stick to shove the occasional blackberry brambles out of his way. He knew the hidden tracks by heart.

   He had met Strathmere on this path more than once in the past, along with that dashing young hothead brother of his Sebastian, who could talk of nothing but his upcoming adventure in Nepal. In Humphrey's opinion, the brave fool had met his death defending a handful of greedy merchants who would annihilate the entire world in the British Empire's interests. More than once Humphrey had tried to persuade Sebastian to seek our a different career. But posters promising adventure and fortune lured innumerable young men into joining the Honourable East India Company.

   Sebastian and his two older brothers, the late Matthew and Benedic, were cut from a different bolt of cloth altogether. Benedic and Matthew had been more reserved and logical, thinking out every aspect of their lives. Humphrey had always liked Benedic. He could not quite believe he was dead.

   In fact, he did not believe it at all.

   He stopped, his nape prickling, and stared behind him. Ares was exploring the earth around a foxhole.

   "Something caught your fancy, Ares?" He turned a pile of humus over with his stick, his face reflective. "Those toadstools have been trampled since two nights ago when we were last here. Odd, isn't it? I'd say someone besides us is sneaking about."

   He heard branches rustling in the undergrowth behind him, a man's crisp voice calling out, "Stop right there. I've a gun— Oh, it's you, Sir Humphrey. I wish Hades you'd stop giving me these scares. I've orders from Sir Edward to shoot any trespassers on sight."

   Sir Humphrey raised his walking stick and turned to greet the Irish gamekeeper who worked at Strathmere Hall. "Ah, Finni. Just the man I was hoping to meet. I'd like to have a word or two with you."