Heroes Live Forever (Knights in Time) (2 page)

“I understood why you empathized with the loss of her son. He reminded you of Grevill,” Guy said.

“Yes. When Clarence limped in and removed the metal brace from his leg, yes, I thought of my brother.” Basil recalled the pain her son hid from Theresa. The nights Clarence lay in bed doubled over from the cancer destroying his bones. “He must have known, or at least suspected, he was dying.”

“Maybe...probably.”

“I think, deep down, Theresa knew something was terribly wrong, that his illness was worse than he said. She may have even guessed he’d come home to die.”

“Her mind might’ve acknowledged the possibility, but not her heart. What parent can bear the thought of losing a child?”

Basil nodded. “She started to fade after Clarence died.”

Her desolation became Basil’s and her loneliness his. A lonely ghost, God’s teeth! He’d questioned how such a crazy phenomena could happen to him?

Basil gazed out from Elinor’s bedroom window at the ruin of Castle Ashenwyck, his home in life. The remains of the former fortress lay not far in the distance. He focused on the sight and tried to find a way to describe the emptiness that filled him at the time.

“Over the years, did you ever miss human contact, the warmth mortals are capable of?”

When Guy didn’t answer, Basil turned around. After a long pause, Guy finally admitted, “Yes, on rare occasions. Although, I never thought I would.”

Basil shared the sentiment. “After so many centuries of self-imposed isolation, I grew tired of being a shadow. I longed for mortal companionship. It felt good to ease Theresa’s solitude.”

“And Elinor? Why pursue her friendship? At her age, I doubt she’s lonely.”

Basil didn’t have a firm answer to explain the attraction Elinor held for him. “I enjoyed Theresa’s company. I know you did too. I believe there’s a lot of her in Elinor.”

“Go on.”

“I appreciate her kindness. She’d come upon Theresa, alone, or so it must have appeared, engrossed in an odd one-sided conversation. When in truth, she was chatting with us. Elinor never mocked her for talking to herself or acting strange. She accepted her as she was.” Basil smiled as he remembered more about the encounters. “Sometimes, Elinor looked our way, and I swear she could see us, at least sense our presence.”

Guy didn’t look convinced. “You think engaging her friendship will be as pleasant as Theresa’s?”

“I hope so. I dread having to remove ourselves into the shadows again.”

Basil drifted out of the room, Guy right behind him.

“If you’d bothered to ask, before frightening the wits out of that Lucy woman, I’d have told you I already planned how to reveal ourselves.” Basil tipped his head toward the stairs. “Shall we? Hopefully, we won’t find Elinor’s Lucy in hysterics,” Basil said, as they descended.

Basil stood by the kitchen door and Guy sat opposite Lucy at the table. The ladies were in the midst of a discussion about the existence of ghosts. Intrigued, Basil moved closer to Elinor, particularly interested in her inclination. It might make a difference in their plan.

Theresa talked to her plants in the garden, drank whiskey straight from a china teacup and to the knight’s amusement, cheated at solitaire. She was eccentric enough to appreciate them and welcomed their company. If Elinor wasn’t at all receptive, then they’d withdraw and leave her alone. A sharp pang of disappointment shot through him at the prospect.

“Tell me again, what this apparition looked like?” Elinor asked with poorly disguised skepticism.

“I’m not sure I saw a ghost. I thought I did. You can stop smirking. I don’t think you appreciate how hard this is for me. You know I don’t believe in paranormal nonsense.”

“Describe him again.”

“He was dishy. Like I said, he looked like a knight.”

“Hmm, better a knight than a bandy-legged Hun, I guess.”

Lucy lifted her shoulders in a what do you want me to say gesture. “Maybe I imagined him. I do know this,” she added with a mischievous smile, “If a ghost who looks like the very shaggable Sean Connery wafts into the room, I’ll become a believer with lightning speed.”

“A ghost who looks like Sean Connery, wouldn’t that be convenient?”

Elinor stepped onto a footstool in front of a glass doored cupboard. She began arranging dishes from a box on the counter on the shelves. “In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve always maintained there’s a scientific reason for everything. Now you come over, supposedly to help unpack.” Elinor arched an accusatory brow at Lucy over her shoulder. “I’ve seen none of this help, by the way. Time to declare, Lucille, after today will you at least acknowledge the unscientific possibility of ghosts?”

Lucy angled her head to one side and took a few seconds before she answered. “Maybe. I have to think about it some more. The Yeoman Warders say Anne Boleyn haunts the Tower of London. She’s a perfect example of why I’ve never wanted to see a ghost. Who wants to see the specter of some old, dead queen?” Lucy shuddered.

“I see,” said Elinor. “So for you, the line between belief and disbelief is based on the appeal of the specter.”

“No, but if they exist, I’d rather not see a scary one. What about you, Miss Paranormal, Miss Show Me an apparition and make me happy? What do you think you’d do if you ran into a ghost? It’s a distinct possibility now, right here, under your roof.”

“I’ve asked myself the same thing. You know, I’m ashamed to say it, but I’m not certain. I’d like to think I possess some courage. My biggest fear is that my reaction would be like one of those nightmares you have, where you scream and freeze, or worse, try to scream and nothing comes out.

“I admit, I’d be pretty frightened if I got locked up in someplace like the Tower overnight,” Elinor said with conviction. “I’ve read there are a lot more ghosts hovering about those grounds than just Anne. What if they look bloody and mangled from being tortured? Think of all those people killed there, often innocent folks. I’d bet some have unfinished business still holding them to the place.”

Basil winced at the observation. He hated when the living talked that rubbish. Unfinished business was an assumption made by mortals to explain the supernatural. There wasn’t any unfinished business. What if some poor ghost hasn’t a clue why he’s here?

Elinor continued, “But, if I were locked in the Tower and heard chains rattling, say from the Armory, I’d never go and investigate. I’ve watched every cheap horror film made and learned one absolute rule. If you hear a creepy sound, never, ever investigate. Downstairs or upstairs, it’s always the same. The downstairs invariably leads to the crypts. The upstairs is worse. It always overflows with secret chambers and usually headless apparitions.”

He rolled his eyes at her take on typical ghost behavior. In his six hundred years, he’d yet to meet one who enjoyed hanging around crypts. As to spirits walking around headless, well, of course, a few did, but not all the time. Out of boredom, some of the spirits frightened mortals that way as a joke. He’d considered the same once or twice, when certain people aggravated him. Mortals never seemed to find it funny.

Basil moved a bit closer to Elinor.

She rubbed her arms several times and checked the counter around her. She stepped down and pivoted in a slow circle. “Do you see a bug on me?”

“No, why?” Lucy asked.

“I had this ticklish feeling, like something was on me.”

Guy brought his open palm close to Lucy’s neck and grinned at Basil.

“Ugh.” Lucy brushed at the back of her neck with her hands. “Now, you’ve got me feeling the creepy-crawlies.”

Guy moved his hand away.

Lucy stopped swiping at her neck. “Maybe your grandma is haunting you, invisibly tickling you,” she whispered in a spooky voice along with fey finger movements.

“Don’t be an idiot. My gran isn’t haunting me. Although, I still walk into a room sometimes and expect to hear her talking to herself.” Elinor looked thoughtful for a moment and smiled. “She’d be jabbering away and in quite colorful language too. At times her chatter was so animated it sounded like one side of an actual conversation.”

Elinor leaned against the sink. “Back to your dishy ghost, I hate to break it to you Luce, but I seriously doubt Galahad’s ghost is anywhere nearby. I doubt many look like Sean Connery either. If only.”

Lucy looked over the kitchen. “This is such a big place. I know you loved Theresa. But because she left you the house doesn’t mean you have to keep it. Have you considered selling?”

“No.” Elinor gazed out the kitchen window. “I’ll never sell. I love this house. I love my view of Ashenwyck Castle, or what’s left of it anyway. When I was little, I fantasized I lived in a castle where knights walked, and jousted, and rode huge destriers.” She turned back to Lucy. “I want to raise my children here. I want to marry a man who loves the area as much as I do. I want my little girl to look out at the castle and dream of gallant knights too, just like I did.”

Lucy gave an unladylike snort of derision. “You’re such a die-hard romantic.”

“So? There are worse things to be, and when did you become such a pessimist about love?”

“When I started dating. I think it’s incurable,” Lucy said, drawing a heart pattern on the table with her finger.

Elinor nodded. “Dating does have that effect. I give men the chocolate cake test. I ask myself, would I rather be at home in my robe with chocolate cake and the telly, or making small talk with this guy? The cake wins ninety percent of the time.”

“I’m convinced dating is the Black Plague of the twentieth century. If you’re done, can we go?” Lucy stood. “All this talk about romance or more specifically lack thereof is making me hungry. I’m ready for lunch.”

Elinor grabbed her purse. “Sounds good to me. I’m famished. Since the pub doesn’t carry Ghost Food Cake, for dessert I’m ordering Angel Food Cake with strawberries.”

“He didn’t look angelic. That was part of the attraction. He was devilishly handsome,” Lucy said.

“Of course, silly me. Who wants a sweet-faced ghost?” Elinor asked, as they walked out the door.

Basil waited until the women drove away, and then drifted with Guy into the drawing room.

“Did you hear? The Lucy woman called me, ‘devilishly handsome,’” Guy said.

“Her assessment is clearly impaired by the fact she only got a glimpse of you,” Basil said.

They busied themselves examining unpacked boxes. An open one contained vacation photos of Elinor. Guy removed one of her in a hot pink bathing suit and tipped it so Basil could see.

Unlike most women he’d known, Elinor’s complexion was sun darkened, at least in the picture. “It’s pleasant, this color on her face. I wouldn’t have thought so, if I hadn’t seen for myself. The exposed skin is another boon.” He began his own search of the box it came from. “Have you ever heard of this Sean Connery?”

“Scottish fellow as I recall.” Guy wrinkled his nose. “An actor, I think.”

“Scottish,” Basil grunted in disapproval, “a savage lot.”

Guy leaned back on his heels, arms resting on his knees. “Before he joined my knights, Stephen first squired with a knight who lived near Carlisle. The incessant reiving on the part of their Scots neighbors presented never-ending problems. He used to say it wasn’t a Scots fault there were Scots, no more than it’s the fox’s fault he’s a fox. He claimed the problem lay with the Romans.”

“The Romans?”

“According to him, they should have built their wall higher.” Guy moved to a pile of albums stacked by the stereo. “So, what’s this plan of yours? Personally, I don’t see why we can’t just pop in the kitchen like we did with Theresa.”

“Not much put Theresa off. She took most anything, including us, in stride. The last thing I want is to frighten Elinor. I’ve decided on a different plan from my original, and it came from the lady herself. When she’s alone and gone to bed, we’ll make our entrance.” Basil couldn’t resist a smile at his own cleverness. “You heard her. Mounted knights in shining armor, jousts, chivalry, childhood fantasies she still holds onto. We can be her dream knights come true.”