Shades of Midnight (22 page)

Daisy waggled her eyebrows. "And what about your Mr. Thorpe? Won't he be impressed?"

She was tired of pretending. Tired of playing foolish games. "Just keep your designs off my Mr. Thorpe," Eve said gently. Even if she were worried about Lucien's eye straying, she had to admit—she had never worried about him being unfaithful. He just wasn't that kind of man. And as for Daisy, she'd had her pick of every man in the county since she'd been seventeen, and she'd turned them all down, for reasons Eve didn't understand.

"Look at these," Daisy said proudly, gesturing grandly toward the counter. "Pumpkin pies."

"You made them yourself? How do they taste?"

"I don't know yet. We'll all be surprised when it's time for dessert." She pointed one finger up, and Eve glanced in that direction.

"Daisy, do you have pumpkin on your ceiling?"

"I do. I really have no idea how it got there. Or in my hair, or all over my clothes. Cooking properly is messy business, Eve."

"So I hear."

"It took me all afternoon just to get clean!"

They returned to the party guests, who had gathered in Daisy's parlor. Buster Towry worked a small farm just outside Plummerville. Twenty-five years old and relatively handsome—if one overlooked the slight cant to his nose and the fact that he could gain twenty-five pounds and still be thin—he was forever talking about finding himself a wife. He never did anything about it, though. He had a tendency to blush terribly when in the company of a single woman. He was beet red tonight.

Katherine Cassidy was dressed in black as always. Her dark hair was gathered into a severe bun, her face was too pale. She stood in one corner and watched the proceedings with a strange glint of amusement in her dark eyes. The widow was usually a sour, antisocial woman who kept to herself. Like Daisy, Eve was surprised that she had accepted the invitation.

Garrick was drinking again. He held a small glass of whiskey, half empty, in one hand. He, too, looked amused. Eve waited for him to say something embarrassing about his visit that afternoon. He said nothing, simply lifted his glass in a silent salute to her and then finished it off in one gulp.

Perhaps her reputation wasn't ruined after all. Yet.

Daisy ushered them all into the dining room, where the table had been decorated with a large arrangement of golden fall flowers she'd grown in her own garden.

Dinner was a large roast with potatoes and carrots, side dishes of green beans and corn, and biscuits with sweet butter. The party was silent as they passed around the platters and bowls. The men piled their plates high. The women took small portions. Damned corset, Eve thought as she passed the corn after taking a tiny spoonful.

There were awkward mutterings of compliments, and in fact everything was quite good, even if the biscuits were a bit hard. Daisy had outdone herself.

It was Katherine Cassidy who broke the awkward silence, setting her fork aside and looking at Lucien. "The talk about town is that you're a medium, or something like that. Is it true?"

Lucien almost groaned as he set his own fork aside. "While I don't care for that particular term, I suppose the answer is yes."

"You can communicate with the dead," she said, as if to clarify.

"Yes."

Buster went ashen, Garrick grinned, and Katherine nodded her head in satisfaction.

"Good," the widow continued. "I'd like to hire you."

"Well, I'm not sure..."

"It's my husband. I know he comes back. Not every day, mind you, but some nights I just know he's there. I can feel him." She paled a little, and since she was already very fair the change was startling. Her face was almost white. "There's a gust of wind through the house or a board creaks, and deep in my heart I know it's him."

Eve felt some sympathy for the woman, who still mourned so for a husband gone more than three years. Apparently so did Lucien.

"Do you want to know if he has a message for you? Is there something you want me to tell him?"

"Yes," Katherine said sharply. "I want you to tell him to get the hell out of my house and stay out. Son of a bitch," she muttered. "I should have known he'd give me grief, even from the grave."

So much for sympathy.

Her response took Lucien off guard. "Ummmm, when I have a moment I'll see what I can do."

"So," Garrick said, "I heard you were a fortuneteller or some such nonsense, but I had no idea you actually roused dead people to hold conversations with them."

"I do not
rouse
dead people," Lucien said tightly. "I... I..."

"He sends them home," Eve said, jumping in to defend him. "Lucien finds lost souls who haunt this earth and he ends their suffering by helping them find their way to their proper place."

"Haints," a still-pale Buster said lowly. "You're talking about haints." A little color came back to his cheeks, and a shy smile drifted in. "Why, y'all are jest pulling my leg. T'aint no such thing."

Lucien opened his mouth to respond, but Eve beat him to it.

"Ghosts are very real." No more pretending, no more hiding the truth from people she considered her friends. "I've seen them. I've touched them. They remain here on earth because they died suddenly and don't realize they're dead, or because they carry some burden they can't let go of."

Buster was suitably pale again.

"Before I came to Plummerville, I wrote several articles about authenticated hauntings."

"And a damn fine book," Lucien added.

"I thought you only wrote about gardening," Daisy said.

"That's actually a rather new subject for me." She waited for the other people at the table to laugh, or become scared and throw her and Lucien out. It didn't matter, not really. She wanted to be as honest as Lucien was... at least part of the time.

"Well, well," Garrick said. Of course, he would be the first to condemn them. He was like his father, she supposed, narrow-minded and quick to judge. "A book! Eve, I'm impressed."

"You are?"

"Writing a letter gives me a headache." Garrick winked at her, and no one thought anything of it. When he'd been drinking, he was an outrageous flirt. He drank too much, too often.

"Me, too," Buster said. "So, you really and truly seen these ghosts with your own eyes?"

"Yes, I have."

All eyes turned to Lucien. It was Daisy who asked, "And you can actually speak to them?"

"Yes," Lucien admitted.

"Do they talk back?" Buster whispered.

"On occasion."

"It really is fascinating," Katherine Cassidy said.

"It is?" Lucien was obviously surprised by the reactions of those at the table.

The widow turned to the man seated next to her. "Mr. Hunt, why don't you fetch that bottle you brought with you and pass it around."

"You want me to share my best whiskey?"

"Yes," she said, flicking her fingers at him. "Shoo."

He did as she commanded.

"I have pie," Daisy said. "Pumpkin."

"Pumpkin pie and whiskey," Buster said, his easy grin returning. "Now, this is a party."

Lucien was taken aback. He had probably expected, like Eve, that they'd be laughed out of the house or run out. But the questions that were tossed his way over whiskey and pie were intelligent. The people at the table were interested but not afraid or disbelieving. Eventually, after a glass of whiskey or two, one by one they admitted that they had always believed in ghosts.

A wall of propriety came tumbling down. Soon it wasn't Miss Abernathy and Mrs. Cassidy, but Eve and Katherine. No one called Garrick Mr. Hunt, which he teasingly said suited him just fine, since he kept looking over his shoulder for his father. A rousing conversation and a little whiskey, and they were all on a first-name basis.

It was amazing to be surrounded by such warm camaraderie. She had missed her occasional evenings and conversations with Hugh and Lionel and O'Hara. And Lucien.

"I have my own..." she began, the effects of a half glass of whiskey making her head swim.

Lucien interrupted her. "It's wonderful to find you all so inquisitive. There was a particularly interesting haunted house in Baltimore..."

"Lucien," Eve whispered, "I was going to tell them about..."

"Evie missed that one," he continued. He turned to look down at her, and there was a clear warning in his eyes. "She was angry with me at the time, and no one could blame her."

She got the message loud and clear. He didn't want anyone, not even the people at this table, to know about Alistair and Viola. Not yet.

"Evie
was angry with you?" Garrick said with a grin. "That sounds like a much more interesting story than any haunted house."

"It is," Lucien said, his voice low.

"I for one would prefer to hear more about the ghosts, at the moment," Daisy said brightly. "I think they're fascinating." A half glass of whiskey had affected her as much as it had Eve. "Absolutely fascinating. Oh, I have a marvelous idea!" she said, clapping her hands together. "The six of us at this table, we can form our own secret society. The Plummerville Ghost Society."

"What would we do?" Katherine asked sourly.

"Tell ghost stories," Buster suggested.

"Hold meetings over pie and whiskey," Garrick said.

"No," Daisy said with a wave of her hand. "We can help Lucien!"

"Help?" Lucien repeated uncertainly.

"You know, we can go to haunted houses with you. We can help you investigate and... and... well, you'd have to tell us what to do, but surely we could do something productive."

"I'm a fair shot with a rifle," Buster said proudly.

"I'm a much better cook than Daisy," Katherine said.

"And I," Garrick began, lifting his glass high, "I can't really do much of anything, but chasing ghosts sounds like much more fun than running the mill with my father."

"There's really nothing any of you..." Lucien began in a slow, certain voice.

"We need a toast," Garrick said, jumping to his feet. He rounded the table, refilling everyone's whiskey glasses. "A drink to seal the bargain."

"There is no bargain," Lucien said. They all ignored him.

Everyone at the table lifted their glasses high. Laughing, Eve did the same. Finally, after accusing glances from the three women at the table, and a not very subtle clearing of his throat from Garrick, Lucien lifted his glass as well.

"To the Plummerville Ghost Society," Garrick said proudly. "Long may we reign."

He drained his glass. Everyone else took a sip.

Daisy looked longingly at Lucien. "You must be president."

"Absolutely not," he said indignantly.

"Lucien can't be president," Katherine said with a telling lift of her eyebrows. "He's a Yankee!"

"Fine, I'll be president," Garrick said magnanimously.

While everyone toasted their new society, Lucien turned to Eve and whispered, "I knew coming here tonight was a mistake."

"It will be fun." She smiled and leaned in close. "Look at them, Lucien," she whispered. "They adore you. I... adore you." She caught her breath. She had almost admitted that she loved him!

"Do you really?"

"Just a little."

Lucien looked at each and every one of his grinning cohorts. "If we must have a society..."

"We must," Daisy said brightly.

Lucien warned his hostess with a glare, and she pursed her lips prettily. "We must have a proper name. Plummervile Ghost Society makes it sound as if
we
are ghosts. Perhaps the Plummerville Society for the Investigation and Documentation of Psychical Activities."

Everyone stared at him, speechless. Finally Daisy asked, "How would I fit the initials for the Plummerville Society for... for... whatever that was you said, on our handkerchiefs?"

Lucien started at her. "Handkerchiefs?"

Daisy smiled. "We must all have matching hankies with the initials of our society. PGS." Her smile dimmed. "Or PSFT... I already forgot, but that would be very unwieldy."

Lucien looked down at Eve. "Matching hankies?" he whispered.

Garrick banged his whiskey glass on the table. "Order," he said, trying to sound dignified. "Time for our first vote. All in favor of calling ourselves the Plummerville Ghost Society, raise your hands."

Five hands, including Eve's, shot up.

"All in favor of... whatever ridiculous name it is that Lucien wants to call us, raise your hand." Garrick grinned at Lucien, who raised his hand even though he was clearly outnumbered.

"Almost unanimous," Garrick said. "As president, I hereby declare us the Plummerville Ghost Society."

Lucien shook his head, but he did smile, a little. And then he looked at his watch and his smile died. "Eve, it's after ten o'clock. We have to go."

Chapter 14