Anthony and Teag agreed to set the issue of the haunted hair comb aside for now, and walk down to the village while there was plenty of daylight left. Heading across the inner bailey from Bride’s Tower, they had another look at the huge Christmas tree and all its gleaming decorations.
“I want to check out the chapel too,” Teag said, pointing to a round structure a little farther away. “I’ve heard it has some very pretty decorations—and maybe the original gargoyle!”
“How do you know where all the gargoyles are?” Anthony asked, enjoying this playful side of Teag that he got to see all too rarely.
“Well, there’s a cheat sheet on one of the travel sites,” Teag admitted. “Although visitors are encouraged to hunt on their own first, and then use the sheet to find the carvings that are more challenging.”
“But you already looked?”
“Of course! We don’t want to miss any!” Teag replied, aghast.
Anthony gave his hand a squeeze. “Want to check out the gift shop? We can head into town from there.”
“Welcome to the Castle Shop,” a woman called out as Teag and Anthony entered the store. She had short blonde hair, and when she turned around, Anthony could see the resemblance between Patrick, their golf cart bellboy, and his mother. Her name tag read “Marianne.”
“Patrick told us to stop in,” Teag said. “He saved us from having to haul our luggage all the way from the parking lot.”
Marianne laughed. “He loves that silly cart! I’m glad he helped you get settled. Please, have a look around. And if you’re heading into town, I can hold your purchases until you get back.”
The small shop smelled of locally-made goat milk soaps, the castle’s own brand of tea, and a clove and orange potpourri that simmered near the register. Most of the items either had the likeness of Caynham Castle or the monogram of the Mortimer family. Teag picked out an ornament of the castle and a few other small gifts for friends back home.
“I’ll just put these behind the register with your name on them until you get back,” Marianne said after she rang them up. “If we’re closed, no worries. Just stop by in the morning.”
They thanked her and headed out. Anthony pulled his cap down over his ears. “It must be true what they say about Southerners having thin blood. I don’t know how anyone lives with the cold here!”
“You know we aren’t to the worst of the winter yet,” Teag joked. “And I heard we’re supposed to get a dusting of snow for Christmas.”
Anthony glared. “That stuff is pretty on Christmas cards and in holiday movies, but not for real.”
“Grinch.”
“Scrooge.”
They both laughed, and Anthony took Teag’s hand as they headed out of the castle area and down toward the village square. It had been a long time since he’d felt this light-hearted, and he decided they needed to make vacationing a priority.
“The whole place looks like a movie set,” Teag said in awe. Between the half-timbered buildings—what Americans often called “Tudor” style—and the old brick or stone buildings, the village seemed too picturesque to be real.
“You know, most people think that about Charleston,” Anthony pointed out. “Or did you forget about the busloads of tourists who come to oooh and ahh over our architecture and all the ‘old’ buildings?”
“I guess you’re right—this is just home for the people who are from here,” Teag conceded. The square was in fine holiday form with another big tree, twinkle lights wrapped around lampposts, and ribbon-bedecked evergreen swags everywhere they looked.
Knights Road was the main street in Caynham-on-Ledwyche, and Anthony couldn’t wait to check out the shops they had seen on their way in. “It’s really great that all the stores are local,” he said. “No big chains. Helps keep the feel of a place. Once the chains come in, everything’s all the same.”
“From what I saw in the comments on the tourist rating sites, the Mortimers—at least the more recent ones—have done a lot to support the local economy,” Teag replied. “A lot of the items in the castle gift shop were by local companies or artists. And I’m sure the castle itself is a huge draw.”
“There’s the antique shop,” Anthony said. “Do you want to go in?” He left that up to Teag, not only because the store might seem too much like the shop he worked in back home, but because he didn’t know if Teag wanted to risk finding more items with a hint of haunt.
“Yeah, actually. If you don’t mind. I’d like to find out more about Mabel Mortimer and why her ghost is so pissed off,” Teag replied. “Just in case there’s trouble.”
“Curiouser and Curiouser Antiques” was the name emblazoned in gold lettering on the store window. A bell tinkled as they opened the door. Anthony and Teag stepped into a shop filled nearly to the rafters with dark wooden shelves laden with curios and antiques. Bone china, porcelain figurines, mantle clocks, and silver tea sets vied for space beside Wedgewood vases, cut crystal bowls, and vintage kitchenware.
“Hello there! Come on in and have yourselves a look around.” An older man with a fringe of white hair waved at them from behind the counter, setting aside his cup of coffee and newspaper.
“Are you the owner?” Teag asked.
“Oh, no. I’m Mr. Porter, one of the staff,” the man replied, chuckling. “What can I help you find?”
Anthony couldn’t help looking at the fascinating mishmash of items. A large, taxidermied bear stood next to a tall mahogany coat rack. Behind that were several pieces of furniture that looked like they came from India’s Colonial period, next to a brass telescope and an ornate Victorian floor lamp with a fringed shade.
“I couldn’t resist coming in,” Teag confided. “I work in an antique shop in Charleston, back in the States.”
“Ah. Busman’s holiday, is it? Can’t quite get away from the job,” Mr. Porter said with a laugh. “I know the feeling. Antiques get in your blood, they certainly do.” He shook his head. “It’s a wonder, really, how you can feel like you’ve seen into the past when you handle an old object. These pieces have seen a lot of living.”
From the way Teag’s eyes narrowed in thought, Anthony guessed his fiancé was thinking Mr. Porter might have a bit of psychic sensitivity himself.
“I heard someone say that a few pieces of needlework were found that were done by Lillian Mortimer and given back to the Castle,” Teag said. “I’m always fascinated when things find their way home. Do you know the story of how that happened?”
“Well, now. That’s quite a tale. Both Lillian and her sister, Mabel, were born just before the turn of the last century. Mabel, the older sister, was the serious one. Lillian, from what I’ve heard, was more of a free spirit. They clashed, as sisters do. Or maybe a bit more.”
Mr. Porter perched on the stool behind the counter as Teag and Anthony drew closer. No one else was in the shop, and Anthony wondered if the older man welcomed a chance for conversation. Passing gossip about people long dead seemed harmless enough.
“When the Great War broke out, the Earl and Countess volunteered to help with the war effort, so they were gone for long periods. That left Mabel in charge of the castle, and—at least to her mind, Lillian.” He laughed. “I don’t think Lillian saw it that way. Anyhow, right before the war, Lillian had taken up with a young man from a wealthy family, Bertram Granville.”
Mr. Porter peered over his spectacles at Teag and Anthony and clarified since they were clearly not local. “The Granvilles are landed gentry, with a country house a distance from town. The Earl’s family, the Mortimers that own Caynham Castle, are titled nobility. It’s been Granvilles and Mortimers in these parts since long, long ago. Anyhow, Bertram Granville went away to the war, and like many of the young men, didn’t come back.”
“What happened?” Teag asked, leaning forward.
“Lillian didn’t take the news well, as you can imagine. I guess today, they’d call it a nervous breakdown,” Mr. Porter replied. “She turned to her needlepoint—it became something of an obsession—and didn’t often leave the castle. Unfortunately, she died young, of Consumption—Tuberculosis. Mabel eventually married and produced an heir. But…”
“What?” Anthony couldn’t help being drawn into the story.
Mr. Porter shook his head. “Somewhere along the line, Mabel and Lillian had a big falling out. Mabel stayed bitter, even after Lillian’s death. While she was alive, none of Lillian’s needlework was permitted to be on display—a pity, because Lillian did fine work. No one knows what came between the sisters—or at least, if they knew, they didn’t tell.” He shrugged. “That’s all I know of the tale.”
“It’s very interesting,” Teag said. “Thank you for sharing it with us.” He purchased a few vintage photographs and postcards of the castle and the village. Anthony avoided touching anything, wary from all the tales he’d heard from Teag and Cassidy of objects that carried bad mojo.
“Make sure you grab a pint at the Earl’s brewery,” Mr. Porter said. “It’s very good.”
They promised to do so, which to Anthony’s mind was no hardship. Next, they wandered into the Ewe & Ply yarn shop, which also carried some lovely scarves, shawls, capes, and other pieces made by the owner. Anthony felt Teag relax almost as soon as they stepped in the door.
“Can you feel that?” Teag asked quietly.
“Feel what?”
“Whoever’s done the knitting definitely has my kind of magic—whether they know it or not. It’s very comforting. Serene. I can’t imagine how they can keep pieces in stock. I just want to wrap myself in them like a giant hug.”
“Then pick a scarf or whatever you’d like,” Anthony said. “Consider it a late birthday present.”
Teag chose a blue scarf for himself and insisted on buying a green one for Anthony. The owner wasn’t in, so Teag passed along his compliments. They stuck their heads into the tea room. It was as cottage kitchen comfy as Lady Neville’s Tea Room back at the castle was formal, with mismatched china, tablecloths, and chairs. The walls were covered with a mix of old photos of the area, vintage prints of sheep and spinning wheels, and work by local artists.
“We’re definitely coming back here,” Teag said. “Those cakes look delicious.”
Anthony groaned. “How can you even look at food? I’m still stuffed!”
Teag shot him a look. “It’s always good to have a plan. That way, I can look forward to my meal, and then I can enjoy it twice.”
Seeing Teag so relaxed warmed Anthony’s heart. Back in Charleston, they often kept a hectic pace between Anthony’s responsibilities at the law firm and Teag’s job, not just with Trifles and Folly, but his other job with the Alliance, helping keep the world safe from supernatural threats. It had been too long since they had just taken a day to wander and see the sights.
Back outside, Teag slipped his arm through Anthony’s. Anthony tensed, but only for a second. Caynham-on-Ledwyche seemed tolerant enough, but old habits died hard. Charleston had gotten a lot better than it used to be, but two men hand-in-hand on a busy street would still draw unwanted attention. As if he sensed Anthony’s discomfort, Teag withdrew his arm, and Anthony immediately felt a loss.
“It’s okay,” Anthony told him. “I like walking arm in arm. I’m proud of us.”
Teag gave him a hug and instead snagged Anthony’s pinkie finger with his own. “I know. I am too. But it’s a small town. And we’re a long way from home.”
Anthony let it go, and Teag walked close beside him, shoulders bumping. He felt chagrined at his reaction. Their coming out experiences had been very different, and sometimes, it showed. Teag had come out in middle school, and his family had been supportive. Anthony hadn’t come out until law school, and while it hadn’t cost him his position with the family firm, he was well aware there had been family members and clients who hadn’t been happy about it.
“Hey, quit thinking so hard,” Teag said, jostling his elbow. “Vacation, remember? And we’re engaged! I’m going to keep saying that over and over to myself until it really sinks in,” he added with a grin, waggling his fingers on the left hand.
“Sorry. You’re right. And look—there’s a book store!”
Caynham-on-Ledwyche was picture-perfect, Anthony thought. Decked out for the holidays, every store glistened with tinsel, lights, red bows, and accents of gold and silver.
“Oh, and there’s a hotel in town, as well as the rooms at the castle,” Teag pointed out.
Anthony nodded. “I saw that when I made reservations. It’s a lovely place, and the restaurant is very good. But I thought you’d rather be in a real castle.”
“You totally understand my inner geek,” Teag replied, but the look in his eyes was worth every penny of the cost of the room.
“And I love your inner geek, as well as your outer one,” Anthony assured him. “Just remember when you’re in the bookstore—we have to be able to fly home, so whatever you buy needs to fit in the luggage.”
Cadwell’s was a charmingly old-world bookstore with bookshelves packed full from floor to ceiling and extra volumes spilling over onto tables and into corners. New books were in the front of the store, and the used books stretched in a warren of connected rooms and repurposed closets.
“I could get lost in here and stay for a year,” Teag whispered in awe. “And there’s an upstairs and a downstairs!”
“Can I help you find anything?”
Both Teag and Anthony jumped at the voice. They turned to find a short, bald fellow in a plaid shirt, sweater vest, and corduroy pants.
“You’re—” Teag started.
“Ptolemy Cadwell, proprietor. At your service,” the man replied. “Now, what kind of books are you looking for?”
“Weaving,” Anthony said.
“Magic,” Teag answered at the same instant.
Cadwell’s eyebrows rose. “Well. That’s an interesting mixture. I happen to have both. Follow me.”
“I thought you were on vacation,” Anthony whispered as they hurried to keep up with Cadwell. The stacks seemed to go on forever, and Anthony marveled that the store managed to pack so much into the space.
“I am. But you never know what you’ll find in a place like this,” Teag replied.
Anthony had to agree. There was something fanciful about Cadwell’s and its odd proprietor that made him think anything might be possible—like meeting a troll or a unicorn around the corner or walking through an armoire or a grandfather clock into another world.
“Here you go,” Cadwell said. “Weaving is here,” he added, thrusting out his left arm to indicate a section of shelves. “And magic would be over here.” He bustled away, leaving Anthony to hope he could find his way back.
“Just let me know if you need anything else,” Cadwell said when he had led Teag to the books on magic. “I’ll be up front.”
“What are you looking for?” Anthony asked, keeping his voice low.
“Nothing in particular,” Teag replied. “Mostly making sure there isn’t anything dangerous. Habit,” he said with a shrug.
In the end, Teag selected a slim volume on the history of the Pendle Hill witch trials and a thin book on needlework. If Cadwell thought it a strange combination, he didn’t say so, packing them up with a smile and adding a flyer to come back after Christmas for the January book sale.
“So no cursed grimoires, I presume?” Anthony asked as they strolled back toward the pub.
“Fortunately, not,” Teag replied. “But I am interested now in finding out a little more about needlework. I think there’s something still going on between the Mortimer sisters, and Lillian’s embroidery is the key.”
Anthony couldn’t bring himself to be put out at Teag finding a potential ghost problem. It was too much a part of who Teag was, and Anthony wouldn’t change that for anything. “All right. I’ll be your sidekick,” Anthony said once they got settled at a table at the Boar and Knight. “Just tell me what to do, and try not to get us thrown in the dungeon.”
Teag peered over his menu. “I really don’t think they do that anymore. Wait. Does the castle have a dungeon? Is it on the tour?”
Anthony smacked his palm to his forehead. “Me and my big mouth,” he grumbled, but he grinned as he did it. “There’s no dungeon on the castle map, but if you ask Priscilla at the desk real nicely, maybe she’ll tell you whether there’s one on the tour.”
Teag leaned in. “Maybe we could pretend our room is a dungeon. The other kind.”
“You’re incorrigible,” Anthony sighed, but he couldn’t deny that his face reddened, and his pants tented at the mental imagery. Neither of them were really into that scene, but a little fantasy role play certainly added spice.
The Boar and Knight was one of the oldest buildings other than the castle, and Anthony marveled that it had been in continual use as a pub since the early Middle Ages. A sign with the names of every proprietor going back over six hundred years graced one wall. The pub looked its age. A fireplace across from the bar was blackened with the soot of ages. The dark wood of the tables, chair rail, and bar was worn from use, and the plank floor showed the toll of centuries of foot traffic.
“The food must be good if they’ve been around since the Crusades,” Teag said, as he looked in one direction and then the next to see everything in the pub’s cozy rooms.
“I suspect the ale is good too,” Anthony replied. Teag went for Shepherd’s Pie, while Anthony chose Bangers and Mash, and they each got a pint of the pub’s signature brew.
Anthony loved the way Teag’s eyes lit up at the old pub and how excited he was to dig into his food and sample the ale. Anthony had been over to the UK several times, both for business and with his family, but seeing everything fresh through Teag’s eyes made all the difference, and he felt himself fall, impossibly, even more in love than before.
The pub was fairly small, and the tables were closer together than in modern restaurants, so it was difficult not to overhear conversations.
“…when Old Man Granville dies, that’s the last of the lot,” a man at the next table said to his companion. Both were men who looked to be in their late sixties. The speaker had a shock of white hair that poked out at all angles, while the other man had a monk’s fringe of gray hair around a bald pate. “There’s no one to inherit his country house or the land with it.”
“How’d he manage to end up without heirs?” the other man replied.
“Dunno. Guess it wouldn’t be too hard with a run of bad luck. All you’d need is a generation or two without many kids, and then toss in accidents or sickness. It’s a shame. There’ve been Granvilles in these parts since the War of the Roses. I always heard tell that’s when the Granville family got their land from the king. Same time as the Mortimers got the castle.”
“So, what now? Everything Old Man Granville owns reverts to the Crown? Next thing you know, the land’ll get sold off, and we’ll have flats going up, you mark my word.”
Anthony couldn’t help listening, caught up in the mini-drama of a stranger’s tale. Other patrons argued about soccer scores or cricket or the latest political news. When Teag tapped him on the arm, Anthony realized he had been lost in thought.
“Tuppence for your thoughts,” Teag asked with a grin. “I’d have offered a penny, but when in Rome…”
“I’ll tell you later,” Anthony replied, well aware that others could hear them as clearly as he heard the people at the next tables.
By the time they finished their food, polished off the ale, and paid their tab, night had fallen. Twinkle lights festooned the trees near the walkways, wrapped around light posts, and sparkled in shop windows. The big fir tree in the town square glowed.
“It’s so pretty,” Teag said with a sigh as they strolled back toward the castle. “Now, what was the big secret back in the pub?”
Anthony shook his head. “No secret. I just didn’t want the old men at the next table to know I’d been eavesdropping. They were talking about a local family—the Granvilles, well-to-do, I’m sure—who might lose their lands because there aren’t any heirs after the patriarch dies.”
“That happened to a lot of landed gentry over the years,” Teag replied. “It’s really more of a surprise that a family like the Mortimers were able to hang onto their castle and make a go of it. The upkeep alone has bankrupted plenty of nobles, and two World Wars went hard on descendants. It’s a shame—that’s the way history gets lost.”
When they reached the inner bailey of Caynham Castle, Anthony looked to Teag. “So do we go up to the room and call it a night, or did you want to go back to the sitting rooms?”
Teag took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “I have all kinds of ideas for when we go back to the room, none of which involve calling it a night,” he said with a lascivious smile. “But I’m worried about the ghost I thought I sensed. It might be a good time to catch Priscilla and see if she knows anything if she’s not busy.”
They headed to the front desk. Anthony figured Priscilla would be gone by now, but she was still there, albeit looking a bit less perky than she had earlier.
“Hello, gentlemen. Problem with your room?” she asked.
“Oh no,” Teag assured her. “Everything with the room is great. But I had an odd question I was hoping you could answer. Has anyone reported anything strange happening in the ladies’ salon, over in Bride’s Tower?”
“Strange, like…”
“Odd cold spots, things suddenly falling off shelves, people feeling a push when no one’s around, that sort of strange,” Teag replied, with his most winning smile.
Anthony loved watching his boy work. He’d have been a natural at swaying a jury if he’d gone into law, Anthony thought. Teag had a way of setting people at ease and getting them to talk to him, regardless of age or status.
“A ghost, you mean. One that isn’t Lady Alice’s daughter.”
“More like Mabel Mortimer,” Teag said. “And very unhappy.”
Priscilla gave Teag a measured glance and then looked at Anthony. He thought they might be about to get tossed out on their ear for wasting her time.
“You’re Teag Logan, from Charleston? Mr. Sorren said you’d be coming here. And that if you asked for help with something, to do whatever we could.”
“You know Sorren?” Anthony’s eyes widened.
Teag’s best friend and boss, Cassidy Kincaide, owned Trifles and Folly. Sorren was her business partner—and a nearly six-hundred-year-old vampire who had founded the store back when Charleston was first chartered. Anthony knew Sorren had dealings in Europe with the Alliance—the coalition of mortals and immortals who used Trifles and Folly—and other stores like it—as a cover for dealing with haunted and cursed objects and occasionally saving the world. He just hadn’t expected to stumble over a connection on their trip.
“He’s an old friend of the Earl, and the Earl’s family, the Mortimers,” Patricia said. “I’m a Mortimer cousin. The castle is really a family affair. And as for ghosts, I’m not sure we’d want the other guests to overhear, but yes, there have been some…disturbances…lately in the ladies’ salon. That’s kind of what you folks do, isn’t it? Handle that sort of thing?”
“Actually, I’m a lawyer,” Anthony said. “But that’s totally Teag’s area.”
“I might be able to help, so no one gets hurt,” Teag said. The registration area was empty, and Teag figured everyone was at dinner or the castle restaurant’s bar.
Priscilla glanced around again and relaxed when she didn’t see anyone nearby. “We never had any problems in there before,” she said. “Family items like Mabel’s hair comb rotate on and off display. But we’d never had anything from Lillian before. She died young and tragically, poor thing,” Priscilla confided.
“So this is the first time you’ve had something from both sisters on display together?” Teag asked. Anthony could practically see the wheels turning in his fiancé’s head as Teag formed a theory.
“Yes. There are a number of items belonging to Mabel in our archive storage,” Priscilla said. “She lived into her nineties, so it’s been less than thirty years since she passed away, and she was born and died in the castle.”
“What about Lillian’s personal belongings? What happened to them?” Teag asked.
Priscilla shook her head and shrugged. “No idea. She died in 1920. A century is a long time to keep track. And since she had Tuberculosis, the family might have gotten rid of her things for fear of catching it.”
“But the needlepoint pieces, they just found their way back to the family, right?” Teag was definitely on the trail of something, but Anthony wasn’t sure yet exactly what.
Priscilla nodded. “Yes. She’d given some as gifts, and the families gave or loaned them back to the castle for display. They’re scattered about in several of the rooms.”
“And the salon is the only place where there are pieces from both sisters together?”
“Yes, but there are other items Mabel owned elsewhere.” Priscilla hesitated. “I’m glad you said something. Odd things have happened to me in that sitting room, but I’d convinced myself it was my imagination. We’d heard a few guests mention that they thought it was very cold in the room, or that they had the feeling someone was watching them. And then the day before yesterday, a guest was walking through and tripped, right by Mabel’s display case. The guest thought she caught her foot on something, and she wasn’t hurt, thank goodness, but now I wonder what really happened.”
Teag chewed on his lip, Anthony knew it was a sure sign he was working out a puzzle.
“If Mabel’s strong enough to hurt people, then we need to do something. Just putting her items back into storage won’t be enough, because her spirit is attached to them, and she’s riled up now. It might be as simple as saying a banishment ritual over Mabel’s grave,” Teag suggested. “Do you know where she’s buried?”
Priscilla nodded. “Yes. In the family crypt. I can make arrangements to give you a private tour tomorrow if you’d like. And if, during the tour, you happen to recite some strange poems or prayers, I won’t tell anyone,” she added with a broad wink.
Teag grinned. “I think that tour would be a lovely addition. Thank you very much.”
They agreed to meet Priscilla at ten the next morning and said goodnight. As they walked back to the inner bailey where the dower apartments were located, Teag reached out and took Anthony’s arm. This time, Anthony didn’t flinch.
“Look at those stars,” Teag marveled, staring into the sky. The cold, clear night made for good viewing, even if their breath misted in the chill. “This is absolutely perfect. And so are you.”
“Even if the castle does have a ghost problem after all?” Anthony asked.
Teag ducked in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “You know, that makes it even better, somehow. Thank you for being so patient about me finding a ‘job’ on vacation.”
Anthony shrugged. “If Mabel is hurting people, something needs to be done, and you know what to do. We’ll go to the crypt tomorrow, you’ll say the banishment, and we can go on with our vacation. It’s like doing a good deed.”
“Hmm…since I’ve done a good deed, does that mean I can do some naughty deeds now?” Teag teased in a voice that went right to Anthony’s groin. The heat in Teag’s eyes left absolutely no room for misinterpretation.
“I think that could be arranged,” Anthony replied, in a tone made husky by more than just the cold air.
Once they were in the elevator, Teag pushed Anthony against the wall, slipping a hand between them to cup his package. “You’re filling out your briefs, Counselor.”
“I plead totally guilty,” Anthony replied. “But since I’m sure there are cameras in these elevators, let’s save the rest for our room, and then maybe I can make you plead—I mean, beg.”
Teag gave him a quick kiss on the lips and turned to wink at the camera in the corner. “Sounds like my kind of plea bargain.”