Hush Now, Don't You Cry(15)

“Alderman Hannan certainly has a lot of lovely things,” I said.

“He certainly does. They are his pride and joy. He never forgets that he came from nothing, you see. The family was near to starvation all the time he was growing up, so he needs to remind himself that he can afford anything he wants.” She paused, adjusting a drape that wasn’t hanging properly. “But it’s more than that. He needs to be surrounded by beauty. He’s a perfectionist at heart. Everything has to be just so. He insists that the family dress properly when they are here—formal wear for dinner every night, you know.”

She nodded, emphasizing the point. “And woe betide any family member who doesn’t measure up to the alderman’s standards.”

As we went up that curved stone staircase I felt the same shudder of apprehension as I had experienced that morning. Whatever she said, there was definitely some force or malevolent spirit in this house that didn’t want me here. We did a perfunctory tour of bedrooms, all of them with splendid views across the bay, then Mrs. McCreedy started toward the stairs again.

“And up on the next floor?” I asked.

“Only servants rooms, box rooms. The family doesn’t go up there,” she said.

“What about that old turret? How do you get to that? I should think there is a wonderful view of the town from up there.”

Daniel shot me another warning look.

“I daresay there is, but nobody goes up there. The rooms were never finished. The master only added it for a kind of folly, you know. If anyone had a mind to climb up there, they’d have to climb a ladder through a hole in the floor because there’s no proper stair. The master’s nephews used to do it when they were boys but nobody’s been up there for years now—and I’m certainly not dusting and sweeping up there! You wouldn’t catch me up a ladder.” She chuckled wheezily and started toward the stairs again. I loitered behind her, trying to locate the position of the tower, still horribly curious and wanting to decide if I felt anything as we walked down the long hallway toward the front of the house.

I didn’t and we came out to the gallery that ran around the staircase—I noticed a door in the front right corner and wondered if it led to the tower. I stood looking up.

“Mrs. Sullivan?” Mrs. McCreedy called to me as she started down the stairs. I jumped guiltily and hurried to catch up with her. Her gaze went to the direction I had been staring. A look of horror spread across her face.

“Wait a minute. You said you saw a face at a turret window—it was Miss Colleen’s face, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was,” I said.

“She thought she saw,” Daniel corrected. “My wife has a vivid imagination.”

“No, I believe her,” Mrs. McCreedy said. “I can tell that she has the sixth sense. It was not so unusual at home in Ireland. And I have to confess that I’ve felt her presence myself in the house. For some reason her poor little soul can’t find rest.”





Six

“You see,” I said triumphantly as soon as Daniel and I had left the house and were walking back to our cottage. “I knew it. I was right. Mrs. McCreedy feels her presence too, poor little thing.”

“In that case I’m keeping you well away from that house,” he said. “I’m here to enjoy myself and so are you, not to worry about dead children or to keep an eye out for ghosts.”

We went back to the cottage and I set about preparing an evening meal. Daniel slumped in an armchair and opened the newspaper again.

“You’re certainly a scintillating companion tonight,” I said dryly as I laid the table.

“I’m sorry. I’m just not feeling up to par,” he said. “First it was a sore throat and now I’m feeling achy all over. I knew I was coming down with something.”

I felt his forehead and it was slightly warm, so after dinner I made him some hot milk and packed him off to bed. When I had cleared away supper and turned in myself he was fast asleep. Hardly the honeymoon I had imagined. I snuggled closer to him and his arm came around me.

“That’s nice,” he murmured.

I was just drifting off to sleep, listening to the smack and hiss of the waves on the rocky shoreline, when I heard the sound of a door opening. Instantly I was awake and alert. We had not locked the front door, feeling ourselves to be safe on an estate with a high wall around it.

“Daniel,” I whispered, “I think someone’s trying to get into the house.”

Daniel still lay in blissful slumber. I wondered if I had imagined the sound until to my horror I heard voices—a man’s voice and then a light female laugh. I sat up, not knowing what to do next. Surely burglars did not chat and laugh as they went about their business? I fished around in the darkness for my robe, but before I had time to act I heard heavy feet coming up the stairs. The bedroom door was flung open and the electric light was turned on. A large man stood in the doorway. He was gray haired and middle aged, big boned rather than fat, but with the unmistakable round red face and shock of hair of a typical Irishman. I was also aware of someone standing in the shadows behind him. That much I took in as I sat blinking in the bright light, clutching the bedclothes to me to preserve something of my modesty.