Page 33 of Mesmerized

“Not necessarily,” Stephen argued. “It could have been something that they suggested we would do if we followed Mr. Babington. That way it would throw us off his trail no matter what the reason we were following him—and it would make us witnesses to another ghost.”

“A much more believable one,” Olivia commented.

“I must say, none of this seems very believable to me,” Stephen said wryly.

“No. Nor to me. But we cannot ignore the evidence of our own eyes, either. If we are to judge things impartially, scientifically, we cannot afford blind disbelief any more than blind faith.”

“What are you suggesting, then? That this really was a ghost?” Stephen asked.

Olivia glanced at him. “I have as little faith as you do in the actuality of spirits and ghosts. But we must sift through all the information that we have if we are to arrive at an accurate conclusion. It occurs to me—why was she dressed the way she was dressed?”

“Because she was from a different time—or, rather, because we were to be led to believe she was from a different time.”

“Yes, but why that time? They were talking about this martyred family tonight, the Scorhills, but if I understood you correctly, they were from the early sixteenth century. Yet this woman’s dress was definitely medieval. My guess is from around the time of Eleanor of Aquitaine.”

Stephen raised his brows. “You can be that specific?”

Olivia shrugged. “I am fairly confident of it. Within a hundred years or so. Styles did not change as quickly in the Middle Ages. But her dress resembled ones I have seen in drawings and paintings of Queen Eleanor. I have read a good bit of history, and my favorite great-uncle is forever reading and talking about it. He, as it happens, is a great student of Henry II, Eleanor’s husband, so I have seen pictures of her more than once. At any rate, I am certain it is medieval, not Tudor.”

“Why wouldn’t they play up the Martyrs, given what happened in the séance?”

“It would seem to make more sense.”

He smiled. “Perhaps they had a medieval costume handy but not a Tudor one. It might not be accurate, but at least it’s ghostly.”

“A medieval tunic and underdress would probably be easier to sew and to get into, that’s true. They are simpler. But this afternoon they used a robed monk, which does seem to fit with the Martyrs, at least to some extent. And if someone is able to pull off as good a trick as a woman walking through a wall, I would think they would bother to costume the ghost correctly.”

“What I find hardest to swallow is the idea that Madame Valenskaya and her cohorts have the intelligence to conjure up a trick like that,” Stephen said.

“I agree. But if it was not somehow caused by them, then we are left with only the theory that it was real.”

They looked at each other. It was not a theory either of them was eager to accept.

Olivia glanced around the room. “There are a number of books here.”

“Yes, and more in the library. What are you suggesting?”

“That we do a little research,” Olivia replied.

“Into what?”

“Well...her gown, for one thing. We could make sure that it really is from the period I think it is. And perhaps we could find some information about the house. Belinda said she found out about the name while she was researching a paper for her tutor. She must have gotten the information from somewhere.”

“Oh, I’m sure there must be some histories. People are always writing tiresome tracts about their ancestors. What exactly are we looking for?”

“I’m not sure. Hopefully we will know it when we see it.”

They started at one end of the study, and after a few minutes of searching the shelves, they found two histories of England and a study of the English monarchs. Olivia sat down in the comfortable chair in front of Stephen’s desk and began to flip through the biographies of the monarchs.

It was not long before she exclaimed with triumph, “Here! Look, a drawing of Queen Mathilde—you know, who fought with Henry over who was the rightful ruler of England. She is dressed in much the same way as our woman tonight.”

Stephen, who had settled down behind the desk with one of the histories, came around to look over her shoulder. “Yes. Except for the fur around the cuffs and neck, it looks very much the same.”

Olivia turned another few pages. “And here is Eleanor. Still much the same.”

“So we must assume that our apparition is dressed as a—what, twelfth-century lady?”

“Yes. She’s clearly a woman of some consequence—that girdle she wore around her waist looked like gold links with some sort of stones, perhaps even precious gems. They were unfaceted back then, you know.”