literature," Flora was saying. "As a result, Laichmoray's library suffers a lack of novels. Thank goodness we don't have that problem here at Rowanclere. I, for one, fail to see the harm in spending a few pleasant hours lost in an imaginary world. What about you, Mr. Delaney? As a writer, do you consider reading a fictional story a shameful waste of time?"
"What was that?" Jake said, glancing up.
Flora repeated her question and the Texan drawled his reply. "No, ma'am. Can't say I have a problem with reading stories or writing stories, either. But the other kinds of tale-telling... well, I reckon I don't hold much truck with that."
"Hold much truck?" Flora repeated. "I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with the term."
"Approve of. I don't approve of lying, Mrs. Dunbar. Or of preying upon peoples fears with tricks and pranks. That's just a different type of lying... or fiction, if you will."
Gillian's eyes narrowed at his words, and she grimaced as she watched her twin's smile turn sickly. Oh, Flora, don't let him bother you. Remember the reasons why we are doing this.
It was as if her sister had heard her. Flora's shoulders squared, her belly went out, and her chin lifted. But before she had a chance to voice her reply, Robyn burst into the library holding the mongrel in her arms and calling Flora's name.
"Finally," the young girl said, her breath coming in pants. "Scooter and I have been looking all over for you. Mrs. Ferguson wants you in the kitchen, Flora. She says Mr. Douglas has come for the supply order, and you need to review it so we have everything we need when Lord Harrington arrives next week."
Flora shook her head and clucked her tongue. "Oh my. You will have to excuse me, Mr. Delaney. I must see to Mr. Douglas. He can be as grumpy as Young Fergus when he is kept waiting. Feel free to use the library this afternoon, if you wish. I'll be happy to continue the tour later, after dinner, perhaps. Robbie, come with me please. You'll need to stop me if it appears I am over-ordering. I find it difficult to judge these days."
Flora dashed from the room, followed by Robyn, who paused just long enough to give Jake time to scratch the dog and say "Howdy, Scoot. You having fun with your new friend?"
Almost before Gillian realized what was happening, Jake stood alone in the library, the scheduled haunting never set into motion. Leaning away from her peephole, Gillian blew a frustrated breath. What was Flora thinking? Mr. Douglas would have waited.
Flora's appetite wouldn't. One of the results of her sister's pregnancy was a marked increase in the attention Flora paid to food. Anything could trigger it—a smell, a word, the shape of a cloud. Residents of both Rowanclere and Laichmoray had quickly learned that whenever the mood was upon her, they put themselves at physical risk by standing between Flora and the larder.
"I guess I'll have to finish this on my own," she murmured. If it even mattered.
The haunts planned for today were the easiest to physically perform. Therefore, this afternoon's practice had been intended to help Flora more than Gillian. Her "ghaist tales" were as much a part of the visitation as the rattling of Young Fergus's bones, or the moaning, groaning, and chain clanging Gillian presently sat poised to begin. Without Flora around to talk about the Headless Lady and Rowanclere's other deevilocks, ghaists, and bodachs, any noises Gillian might make would be no more than that—noises.
Besides, after that pithy comment about tale-telling a few moments ago, she might as well throw in her chains. She hadn't fooled Delaney one little bit.
What did she expect after that first debacle of a haunting?
Gillian scowled down at the Texan. He'd finally put aside his book, and when he tugged the library steps to the end of the southern wall of bookshelves, her gaze lingered on the seat of his trousers as he climbed and reached for a volume on the topmost shelf. Despite her annoyance with him, she couldn't deny that
"What was that?" Jake said, glancing up.
Flora repeated her question and the Texan drawled his reply. "No, ma'am. Can't say I have a problem with reading stories or writing stories, either. But the other kinds of tale-telling... well, I reckon I don't hold much truck with that."
"Hold much truck?" Flora repeated. "I'm afraid I am unfamiliar with the term."
"Approve of. I don't approve of lying, Mrs. Dunbar. Or of preying upon peoples fears with tricks and pranks. That's just a different type of lying... or fiction, if you will."
Gillian's eyes narrowed at his words, and she grimaced as she watched her twin's smile turn sickly. Oh, Flora, don't let him bother you. Remember the reasons why we are doing this.
It was as if her sister had heard her. Flora's shoulders squared, her belly went out, and her chin lifted. But before she had a chance to voice her reply, Robyn burst into the library holding the mongrel in her arms and calling Flora's name.
"Finally," the young girl said, her breath coming in pants. "Scooter and I have been looking all over for you. Mrs. Ferguson wants you in the kitchen, Flora. She says Mr. Douglas has come for the supply order, and you need to review it so we have everything we need when Lord Harrington arrives next week."
Flora shook her head and clucked her tongue. "Oh my. You will have to excuse me, Mr. Delaney. I must see to Mr. Douglas. He can be as grumpy as Young Fergus when he is kept waiting. Feel free to use the library this afternoon, if you wish. I'll be happy to continue the tour later, after dinner, perhaps. Robbie, come with me please. You'll need to stop me if it appears I am over-ordering. I find it difficult to judge these days."
Flora dashed from the room, followed by Robyn, who paused just long enough to give Jake time to scratch the dog and say "Howdy, Scoot. You having fun with your new friend?"
Almost before Gillian realized what was happening, Jake stood alone in the library, the scheduled haunting never set into motion. Leaning away from her peephole, Gillian blew a frustrated breath. What was Flora thinking? Mr. Douglas would have waited.
Flora's appetite wouldn't. One of the results of her sister's pregnancy was a marked increase in the attention Flora paid to food. Anything could trigger it—a smell, a word, the shape of a cloud. Residents of both Rowanclere and Laichmoray had quickly learned that whenever the mood was upon her, they put themselves at physical risk by standing between Flora and the larder.
"I guess I'll have to finish this on my own," she murmured. If it even mattered.
The haunts planned for today were the easiest to physically perform. Therefore, this afternoon's practice had been intended to help Flora more than Gillian. Her "ghaist tales" were as much a part of the visitation as the rattling of Young Fergus's bones, or the moaning, groaning, and chain clanging Gillian presently sat poised to begin. Without Flora around to talk about the Headless Lady and Rowanclere's other deevilocks, ghaists, and bodachs, any noises Gillian might make would be no more than that—noises.
Besides, after that pithy comment about tale-telling a few moments ago, she might as well throw in her chains. She hadn't fooled Delaney one little bit.
What did she expect after that first debacle of a haunting?
Gillian scowled down at the Texan. He'd finally put aside his book, and when he tugged the library steps to the end of the southern wall of bookshelves, her gaze lingered on the seat of his trousers as he climbed and reached for a volume on the topmost shelf. Despite her annoyance with him, she couldn't deny that
Similar Books
