Page 38 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

What could be better? ‘Wine, movies, chocolate, snacks, books... count me in! But not horror movies.’

‘We don’t watch those. That’s too much like work.’ Melissa giggled.

***

AFTER EATING OUR PASTRIES, I made my way upstairs to the library. The first visitors would arrive soon. I’d do some dusting and check out the intriguing volumes on the shelves at the same time.

Ten minutes later, a lean retired gentleman with metal-rimmed glasses came into the library. ‘Hello,’ he said with a smile. ‘I haven’t met you before. You must be new. I’m Ronald Morris. I’m often here doing research.’

I introduced myself. ‘What research are you doing, Mr Morris? If you don’t mind me asking, I mean.’ Is he the one Lydia told me about?

‘Not at all. I’m researching witchcraft in the seventeenth century. There’re a few old tomes in here with relevant history. I’m, ah, I’m writing a book, you see.’

‘Wonderful. How long have you been working on it?’

‘Oh, twelve years now.’

‘Twelve years? It must be... detailed.’

He nodded. ‘I am thorough, if nothing else. But I am keeping you from your duties. Lovely meeting you.’

He selected an old volume from a high shelf and carried it to the desk. From his bag, he brought out a vellum-covered notebook and a pen. A laptop would have seemed incongruous in this beautiful old library.

I continued dusting along the shelves, checking every so often for anyone else on the upper floor. We were alone. Being more curious than seven cats, I edged around the room with my duster so I could get a better look at what Ronald was up to. He’d donned a pair of cotton gloves and opened the volume to a page on which several arcane-looking symbols decorated the fine-printed text.

I was almost at the point where I could peer over his shoulder to get a closer look at the symbols and read the text when Melissa entered the room.

‘Mr Morris, how are you today?’

‘Very good, thank you. And you?’

‘I’m well. I thought I’d pop up for a minute to see how your research is going. Have you found that spell book you said you were looking for?’

His eyes glinted with glee. ‘Possibly. This might be it. If it is, it’s extraordinarily valuable, but I’m not sure yet. I need more time. As you know, with these things it’s important to be—’

‘—thorough,’ Melissa finished for him.

‘Exactly.’

I put down the duster, left them to their discussion and headed into the passageway, listening for tourists.

A couple emerged from the earl’s bedchamber and stopped when they saw I was a guide.

The woman addressed me. ‘Oh, may we ask you about the earl? Any interesting snippets of information you can tell us? His room seemed so... dreary. Was he an old bore?’

I recalled all that Lydia, Penny and Melissa had told me when I had accompanied them around the house on my first three days. ‘Thomas Deaville, or Earl Chirtle, was seventy-two when he died in 1648. He was a quiet, melancholy sort of man who apparently liked only his wife, the countess. Because of that, few people liked him. His chief joys in life were reading, hunting, racing his horses and spending time with his dog, whose name was...’ Snuffles? Scuffles? ‘Scruffles.’

‘Oh, thank you. Is there a portrait of him somewhere in the house?’

There was, but at the moment I couldn’t for the life of me remember where it hung. ‘Yes, there is. Watch out for a portrait of an elderly gentleman sitting by a fire with his dog smoking a pipe.’

The woman’s husband gasped. ‘He gave his dog a pipe! Well, I suppose there was no SPCA in those days, was there?’

They continued on their way. I swallowed the correction I was about to make. Let them think the dog smoked a pipe if they want.

I patrolled the corridor for a few minutes. The couple moved in and out of various rooms. No one else was about until Melissa came out of the library.

‘How’s it going, Heather? Any problems?’

---