Read Online The Strange Visitation at Wolffe Hall by Catherine Coulter - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Catherine Coulter
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outsider, a man who is too young to know anything.”
“The funnel—the spirit—it gave you a name, didn’t it?”
The Great started shaking his head, then stopped. Finally, “Yes, at first it felt it to me, I suppose you could say, as unbelievable as it sounds. But I couldn’t understand what it said. Then, to my astonishment, the funnel, or whatever was in it, screamed right in my face, ‘ Find Major Houston .’”
So that was the whooss .
“I screamed back that I’d found his medal, that I would return it personally to his family, but that didn’t placate the spirit or whatever strange sort of being or thing it is. In any case, it gave up on me and dreamed himself to Miranda and Palonia Chiara.
“Don’t you understand? My finding Major Houston’s medal has made no difference. The black funnel, the abyss, as Miranda calls it, attacked them, and only them, to scare them, to make me do what it wanted. But don’t you see, I can’t do what it wants. I can’t find Major Houston.”
“You believed since you couldn’t find Major Houston, if you found his medal, the spirit would leave you alone?”
The Great stared some more at the kippers. Finally, he said slowly, “I reasoned there was nothing else he could want. I mean, when he first came to me, he scattered the Waterloo medals everywhere. Rather a huge clue, don’t you think?
“But the fact is, I really couldn’t believe I actually found Major Houston’s medal. There were so many struck, upward to forty thousand, and yet at last I found the right one and I told him over and over that I had it. Surely the spirit knows it. But it didn’t help.”
Grayson said, “It seems to me, sir, the spirit was very clear. It wants you to find Major Houston, not his medal.”
They looked up to see Suggs hovering by the door. He arched a thick white eyebrow.
Suggs executed a splendid bow. “My lord, like Mr. Sherbrooke, I wish to know what you are supposed to do with the spirit as well since it is my responsibility to keep the house safe. I can assist Mr. Sherbrooke, your lordship. None of us wish Mrs. Wolffe and Miss P.C. to leave. And Musgrave Jr., of course. You know too that Barnaby would go with them. Our family would be broken up. It would be a disaster, my lord.”
Miranda appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips, her glasses sliding down her nose, her hair back in its thick braid, wearing a yellow gown, so old it was faded nearly to white.
“Come in and eat your breakfast, Miranda,” the Great said. “How can Mr. Sherbrooke possibly want to marry you when you’re so thin?”
Grayson stood frozen in place, his mouth open, but Miranda was made of stern stuff. She leaned forward, planting her hands on the table. “I’m thin because you brought this malignant spirit into the house, sir. Who could eat with gusto when a black funnel could whirl in at any moment and go into you? Or make the house shake off its foundation and open up a black hole to swallow P.C. and me?
“Sir, listen to me. No more running away, locking yourself in your bedroom, no more of your clever distractions. I wish to hear the answer as well as Suggs. This is our home. We have the right to know. Why does the spirit want you to find this Major Houston? As luck would have it, you did find the medal, amazing since there were so many made. You had to know you’d have a better chance of finding the man.”
The Great chewed on his knuckles, then sighed. “It’s been so many years. I suppose it really doesn’t matter any longer. Very well, Miranda, sit down. Suggs, come closer.”
The Great waited until Suggs was standing at the other end of the dining table, tall, shoulders back, like one of the Great’s soldiers back in the old days.
Grayson said, “Sir, I realize you believe you cannot find Major Houston because he died at Waterloo.”
That brought Miranda to her feet. “Major Houston is dead? But that makes no sense, Grayson, why would the spirit of a dead man
“The funnel—the spirit—it gave you a name, didn’t it?”
The Great started shaking his head, then stopped. Finally, “Yes, at first it felt it to me, I suppose you could say, as unbelievable as it sounds. But I couldn’t understand what it said. Then, to my astonishment, the funnel, or whatever was in it, screamed right in my face, ‘ Find Major Houston .’”
So that was the whooss .
“I screamed back that I’d found his medal, that I would return it personally to his family, but that didn’t placate the spirit or whatever strange sort of being or thing it is. In any case, it gave up on me and dreamed himself to Miranda and Palonia Chiara.
“Don’t you understand? My finding Major Houston’s medal has made no difference. The black funnel, the abyss, as Miranda calls it, attacked them, and only them, to scare them, to make me do what it wanted. But don’t you see, I can’t do what it wants. I can’t find Major Houston.”
“You believed since you couldn’t find Major Houston, if you found his medal, the spirit would leave you alone?”
The Great stared some more at the kippers. Finally, he said slowly, “I reasoned there was nothing else he could want. I mean, when he first came to me, he scattered the Waterloo medals everywhere. Rather a huge clue, don’t you think?
“But the fact is, I really couldn’t believe I actually found Major Houston’s medal. There were so many struck, upward to forty thousand, and yet at last I found the right one and I told him over and over that I had it. Surely the spirit knows it. But it didn’t help.”
Grayson said, “It seems to me, sir, the spirit was very clear. It wants you to find Major Houston, not his medal.”
They looked up to see Suggs hovering by the door. He arched a thick white eyebrow.
Suggs executed a splendid bow. “My lord, like Mr. Sherbrooke, I wish to know what you are supposed to do with the spirit as well since it is my responsibility to keep the house safe. I can assist Mr. Sherbrooke, your lordship. None of us wish Mrs. Wolffe and Miss P.C. to leave. And Musgrave Jr., of course. You know too that Barnaby would go with them. Our family would be broken up. It would be a disaster, my lord.”
Miranda appeared in the doorway, hands on her hips, her glasses sliding down her nose, her hair back in its thick braid, wearing a yellow gown, so old it was faded nearly to white.
“Come in and eat your breakfast, Miranda,” the Great said. “How can Mr. Sherbrooke possibly want to marry you when you’re so thin?”
Grayson stood frozen in place, his mouth open, but Miranda was made of stern stuff. She leaned forward, planting her hands on the table. “I’m thin because you brought this malignant spirit into the house, sir. Who could eat with gusto when a black funnel could whirl in at any moment and go into you? Or make the house shake off its foundation and open up a black hole to swallow P.C. and me?
“Sir, listen to me. No more running away, locking yourself in your bedroom, no more of your clever distractions. I wish to hear the answer as well as Suggs. This is our home. We have the right to know. Why does the spirit want you to find this Major Houston? As luck would have it, you did find the medal, amazing since there were so many made. You had to know you’d have a better chance of finding the man.”
The Great chewed on his knuckles, then sighed. “It’s been so many years. I suppose it really doesn’t matter any longer. Very well, Miranda, sit down. Suggs, come closer.”
The Great waited until Suggs was standing at the other end of the dining table, tall, shoulders back, like one of the Great’s soldiers back in the old days.
Grayson said, “Sir, I realize you believe you cannot find Major Houston because he died at Waterloo.”
That brought Miranda to her feet. “Major Houston is dead? But that makes no sense, Grayson, why would the spirit of a dead man
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