'Shock,' I replied, thinking back, 'and pain, and ... a sort of praying, if that makes any sense.'

'That's it, exactly.' Vivien nodded. 'It's really something, isn't it? Rather creepy, but exciting all the same.'

Iain leaned forward again, fixing me with a curious stare. 'You believe in them, then. Ghosts, I mean.'

'Yes, I do,' I decided, lifting my chin a little. 'I think there are definitely some things in this world that we can't explain in scientific terms—not yet, at any rate—but that doesn't make them any less real. Hamlet said it best.'

' "More things in heaven and earth, Horatio"?' he quoted. 'Aye, well. Hamlet was a bit of a fruitcake.'

'Don't you think they exist?' Geoff asked him. 'Please.' Iain's gray eyes smiled derisively. 'I am a Scotsman, after all. You can't walk half a mile in Scotland without treading on the coattails of a ghost or two. But I've not yet seen one up at the Hall.'

'You need to talk to Aunt Freda,' Vivien advised him. 'She sees them all the time. She even says she's seen the woman in the Cavalier bedroom.'

'Sees a lot of things, does your Aunt Freda,' Iain replied, dragging at his cigarette. 'Five hundred years ago they'd have built a bonfire under her.'

Vivien leaned across the bar and slapped him laughingly on the sleeve. 'That's a terrible thing to say,' she admonished him. 'You mind your tongue, or I'll tell her!'

'No need.' Iain shrugged. 'She knows perfectly well what I think. Besides, I've never said that there's anything wrong with being a witch....'

Geoff laughed. 'She is rather remarkable,' he agreed. 'You have to admit, Viv, that her ability to keep me organized denotes some sort of supernatural power....'

'Oh, go on!' Vivien dismissed them both with a wave of her hand. Turning to me, she asked, 'Have you met Aunt Freda, yet?'

I wasn't entirely sure, until Geoff stepped in and answered for me. 'Yes, she met her today, as a matter of fact. Freda is my housekeeper,' he told me, by way of clarification.

'Oh.' I thought a moment. 'Mrs. Hutherson, you mean? Yes, I've met her. Twice, actually. She came by the house a couple of weeks ago with the town welcoming committee. Brought me some smashing fruit scones. She seems very nice.'

'There, you see?' Vivien challenged the men. 'Julia thinks she's nice.'

'Of course she's nice,' Iain shot back.

'A nice witch,' Geoff confirmed, trying without much success to look serious. I ignored them both. 'So she's seen the ghost in the upstairs room, has she?'

'Yes,' Vivien said. 'Some years ago, when she first went to work up at the manor house. Apparently, it's a young woman, just like everyone thought. Quite a pretty young woman, Aunt Freda says, with long fair hair.'

'Not wearing a green dress, by any chance?' I tried to make it sound like a joke.

'No, I don't think so. I'm pretty certain she said the dress was dark. But then, she said the whole ghost looked sort of gray and indistinct.'

Geoff looked down at me, smiling. 'You think your Green Lady is hiding out in my bedroom?' he asked.

'Rather a dull spot for her,' Vivien teased him.

Even Iain smiled at that, his mood improving. He lit a second cigarette and settled back in his seat.

'Speaking of the Green Lady,' he said to me, 'I'd be happy to dig that old garden back up For you, if you'd like.'

'Oh, no, thank you.' I raised an appealing hand. 'I couldn't keep a garden to save my life. I kill plants just by looking at them.'

'Julia thinks you ought to do something with the courtyard at the Hall,' Geoff told him. 'She was quite surprised you hadn't already planted it over.'

'What, the crypt, you mean?' Iain narrowed his eyes in contemplation. 'I may get round to it yet,' he said. 'You never know.'

'And just when would you find time for that, I'd like to know?' Vivien eyed him indulgently. 'Seems to me you've enough work on your plate.'

'Gardening's not work,' Iain corrected her. 'It's recreation. And you're always telling me I need more of that.'

'And fewer of those'. She nodded at his cigarette. 'Not that you ever listen to me.'

Geoff leaped to his friend's rescue by switching the subject. 'I hear there's to be a big estate sale near Calne next weekend. Lord Ashburn's place, I believe. Anyone fancy a trip down there?'

'Are they auctioning any books?' I asked him.

'Only a few hundred.'

I smiled. 'Then you can count me in.'

'Wonderful. Vivien?'

'I'd love to,' Vivien said, 'but the sale's on Saturday and I promised Ned the day off so that he could watch his boy play rugby.'

I'm not sure which surprised me more—the revelation that Ned the barman was married, or the knowledge that his offspring had the energy to play at sports.

'That's too bad.' Geoff looked at Iain. 'What about you?'

'Can't,' was the Scotsman's response. 'The shearers come on Saturday.'

'Shearers?' I asked him.

'Aye. For the sheep. They have to cover all the farms in the district, so they're on a tight schedule.'

'You don't shear the sheep yourself, then?'

'Lord, no.' He smiled. 'I've no skill with a pair of shears—the sheep would look bloody awful if I did them. No, my shearers come from the north. Young lads. Professionals. They can do my flock in an afternoon.'