Page 62 of A Spell of Midlife Mayhem

‘Alas, our attentions wast occupied elsewhere. The earl wast most eager.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Forsooth, being deceased hath its advantages. One nay longer needs to dread the onset of discomfort during energetic nuptial activities.’

My face warmed. Couldn’t she change the subject? ‘You said Maisey told you about the murder. Who’s Maisey?’

‘Poor girl. She wast the daughter of one of our serfs and succumbed of the spotted ague. I believe the gentry of the present day name it “measles”, do they not? She resides in the manor with us. Her family’s hovel wast destroyed long ago for a road or something.’

‘Oh, I’ve seen her. She was watching when the police interviewed everyone in the entrance hall.’

‘Aye, I remember now. Maisey recounted the tale to the earl and me earlier.’

‘But she didn’t see who killed Mr Morris, My Lady?’

‘Nay. None of us did.’

So, this was a dead end. ‘Thank you, My Lady.’

The countess huffed an exaggerated breath and waved her fan. ‘Verily, I beseech thee, Heather, to discontinue using this “My Lady” honorific when addressing me. I understand ’tis an imposition for thee to utter it, and I am, by no means, unaware that society hath changed immensely since my time. Times wast, in my youth, far more stringent in regards to matters of amorous rite, wage and general etiquette. ’Tis clear to me that, of late, thee and thy compatriots hither and yon hast adopted the use of first names in conversation, which wast quite unbecoming in my day. I do not see it as such nowadays amongst you millennials.’

‘I’m not a millennial, My L—, I mean, Charlotte. Shall I call you Charlotte?’

‘Charlotte is acceptable. Banger, then. Thou art a banger. I wilt confess I am at a loss with regards to what ’tis thee bang.’

‘You mean “Boomer”. But it’s Gen X for me. It’s a narrow window of people born around the same few years.’

‘Gen X! Ah, a term of which I hast heard, in all its futuristic splendour.’ She clapped her fan closed with a snap. ‘Hast thee visited the stars, or does that still remain an aspiration?’

That caught me by surprise. ‘No, and it’s not something I plan to do either. How do you know all these modern-day terms, Charlotte?’

‘Paying heed to the guests. ’Tis true that oft times their rant does seem quite nonsensical. Still, I am able to extract portions of the nearby dialect.’

I nodded. ‘We’ve gotten off track. I’d hoped you or the earl, or Maisey, might have seen who killed Ronald Morris and could describe them to me.’

‘Forgive me, my dear. Mayhap thee ought to seek out Ronnie himself.’

My eyes widened. ‘Ronnie? You mean, I can get in touch with him somehow?’

‘Verily, aye. He wast present in the dining hall when I saw him last. Pray, allow us to investigate if it be true he is still thither.’

I was flabbergasted at the possibility that I might talk to Mr Morris’s ghost directly, or even that his ghost might be hanging around.

‘Time is of the essence. For he wast already in a state of fading.’

‘What do you mean by “fading”?’

The countess replied grimly, ‘He is passing into the ether. I know not of his fate, but I am aware that once they begin to dissipate, they art soon gone and nevermore art they seen.’

‘All right, let’s go.’

I scurried out of the drawing room into the downstairs passage and turned into the dining room. The countess was already there. She must have taken a ghostly shortcut.

Ronald sat in a chair at the vast oak table, scribbling with an invisible pen on invisible notes. The chair back was evident through his translucent torso.

‘Mr Morris?’ I gasped, still struggling to take in this other-worldly situation.

He looked up. A distinctive lump stood out on the side of his head.

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