The Black Swan Ghost (#1.5 Penderry's Bizarre)

Chapter Three

As the evening wore on, Millicent grew tired of the noisy bar room. Although the prospect of going upstairs – to the most haunted room at the inn, allegedly – didn't fill her with joy, she bid good-night to Westman and Jim. It was time to face the inevitable and try to get some rest. They had an early start planned. Her companions might be night owls, but she required a decent amount of beauty sleep.

As she meandered her way around tables and chattering villagers, she remembered the mistletoe and Endymion's babble about an ambush. She stopped and glared at the plant, then peered around the room. The landlord remained behind the bar, pouring drinks, which meant she was safe. Seizing her chance, she walked briskly to the stair and beneath the sprig of mistletoe before anyone, alive or otherwise, took romantic ideas into their head. But she discovered her route blocked by an elderly maid coming down the staircase.

With one gnarled hand braced on the wall, and the other clutching an empty wash basin to her apron, the old woman descended carefully. Millicent waited, just shy of the first step, horribly aware of the mistletoe dangling tauntingly overhead. She couldn't have squeezed past the maid even if she'd tried. The stairwell was far too narrow. The maid's legs wobbled as she moved, and each jittery step seemed to take an eternity. Millicent grew fidgety.

Come on, come on. Can you not move any faster?

Millicent's gaze darted toward the bar and her heart dropped to her stomach. The landlord was coming. She hoped to high heaven he was approaching to help the old woman down the steps. But what if he wasn't? She needed an obstacle to keep him at bay. The old woman would do.

Sweeping into action, she rushed up the steps and took the maid's elbow.

"I can manage," the old woman squawked, shrugging Millicent away. "I ain't an invalid."

She shooed Millicent back down the steps, towards the mistletoe and the advancing landlord. He offered her a discoloured smile.

Don't even think about it.

She was quite prepared to serve another slap this evening and clenched her fists in readiness. Not that she enjoyed slapping people. All she wanted was a peaceful life, to be left alone. Was that too much to ask? A shape suddenly eclipsed the landlord, beating him to the stairs.

"Miss, Millicent?" said Blinks, holding his hat and fiddling with the brim. "Could I speak to you?"

Millicent was certain she had never in her entire life been delighted to see Blinks. But this occasion was an exception. She moved aside to let the old woman pass, then nodded. "Yes. What is it?"

Blinks stepped as close as he dared until he too stood beneath the dangling sprig of greenery. She wasn't sure if he'd noticed it or not. His face and strawberry blonde hair, scrubbed clean, glowed in the lamplight, and he smelled distinctly of Harrod's Rambling Rose soap. He leaned forward and Millicent leaned away, her stomach rolling. She quickly realised he was just trying to have a discreet conversation with her, but her expression caused him to pull back, looking as awkward as she felt.

"Er, well, I just wanted to say," he began, "I don't mind swapping rooms with you."

Millicent relaxed.

"Swap rooms? Why would I want to do that?"

His blue eye widened and fluttered. "Why, because of what that old man said. It's haunted."

"I'm no stranger to spirits, Blinks."

He looked sheepish, but frustration showed in his brow. "I know that, Miss. But he made it sound frightening, even dangerous."

"Well, Mr Westman and Mr Penderry aren't concerned. Why should you be?"

He lowered his gaze. "I just thought..."

When he didn't finish his sentence, she urged him to answer. "What?"

Meeting her eyes, he said, "It felt like the right thing to do, that's all."

They were silent for a long moment, Blinks not knowing where to look.

Millicent took a step up the stairs. "Don't worry about me. I'll be quite all right in my room."

"Aye, Miss. Well, the offer is there."

Peering beyond Blinks, she saw the landlord had gone back behind the bar to serve a customer. She hurried upstairs.

Frightening? Dangerous?

Admittedly it was possible for negative, earth-bound spirits to cause harm, but she had sensed nothing evil since she'd arrived. Besides, she could handle anything the spirit world had to throw at her. When she reached the dark hallway that led to the guest rooms, she fished her key out of her dress pocket. The bar room noise receded by the time she reached room four, just a faint din from downstairs. The floorboard at the threshold creaked under her weight as she put the key in the lock. She paused, the tiny hairs at the back of her neck rising.

Someone was behind her.

That Georgian ghost again perhaps?

She turned and peered through the gloom, her eyes adjusting enough to see the deserted corridor. No. It wasn't Endymion. She quickly turned the key and entered her room, locking the door behind her. A bang from across the room startled her and she spun around to find the window swinging on its hinges. Cold winter air blew inside, biting at her skin, and she strode over the floor, shutting out the wind. The window jammed in the ill-fitting frame. Perhaps the weather had caused the wood to warp. After two attempts to force it into place, she left it wedged half-shut, certain another gust would blow it open again, but there was nothing else she could do.

Eager to banish the darkness cloaking the room, she lit the oil lamp on the little table and turned up the flame. Someone cleared their throat from across the room and she swung round, her heart in her throat. Endymion stood in front of the door.

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes large and lips parted before words emerged from his mouth. "Can you see me?" he asked.

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A/N: Just a short chapter I'm afraid. Since this is a Christmas story, I've decided there should be a kiss under the mistletoe before the end. But with who? Haha! Cast your votes ;) And Happy Christmas Eve to all!