The Lord and the Banshee (Read by Candlelight #13) - Gillian St. Kevern Page 0,1

in Barnett’s eyes for a second. He bowed, the emotion gone. “Very good, sir.”

Cross scowled after him. The man was usually inoffensive, but goddamnit, he wanted Pip. “Connaught, Galway.” There was a letter somewhere. Pip had shown it to him, eyes lit up with excitement. “Just think. An actual banshee!” He’d not had the heart to deny him the excursion.

Footsteps heralded Barnett’s return. He held out a tray bearing a single envelope. “A letter from Mr Leighton, sir. Just arrived by the evening post.”

Cross all but snatched it. He grunted thanks, reaching for the letter opener. Only as the door closed behind Barnett did it occur to him that the butler would notice his odd behaviour.

To hell with him. All that, and he couldn’t even have a drink. Cross spread out Pip’s letter in front of him.

Connaught Castle,

September 3, 1903

Dear Thomas,

I have been staring at this page for the last half an hour, unable to find words for the message I must give you. I do not know how to break this news. I only hope that you will not be too angry with me.

I arrived in Galway without incident and am at Connaught Castle with Mr O’Flaherty (now Lord Connaught) and his relations. We have already had a sighting of the banshee. She appeared at night, a glowing figure standing in the moonlight. She looked straight at us and pointed directly at me, whereupon Mrs O’Flaherty (Connaught’s great-aunt) screamed and the banshee disappeared.

While naturally pleased to witness the apparition for myself, I have mixed feelings about the aftermath. According to the family legend, I am now marked for death.

Now that the initial shock has worn off, I do not feel in imminent danger. My first impulse was to return to London, but upon reflection I decided against it. A change in location is no defence against a harbinger of doom such as this. To flee would be to lose the opportunity to effect the removal of the banshee’s curse (if such a curse exists). I cannot now let the opportunity to become better acquainted with the subject of banshees pass, having a personal stake in it.

All the same, I dislike remaining here alone. Do you think Julian would consent to visit? I would not like to summon him here for what may be nothing. Popular legend states that a banshee heralds death rather than causes it. Being entirely unrelated to the O’Flaherty family, the banshee has no reason to interest herself in me, not unless the legends are vastly incorrect.

I hesitate to write to Julian myself. He is apt to be rather touchy these days and takes offence at the merest hint. If you sounded him out on the subject, you might get a better response.

Send your response by first post and tell me I am exciting myself over nothing,

Your foolish,

Pip.

Thomas stared at the letter for a long time.

The rattle as Barnett set the tea tray down roused him from his thoughts. “Is Mr Leighton returning, sir?”

His hand curled reflexively around the letter. “No. I’m going to Galway.” He glanced at the clock. Too late for travel tonight. “Where’s Julian?”

Barnett coughed. “Master Westaway is visiting a friend in Birmingham.”

“Telegraph him. We’re taking the train to Liverpool tomorrow morning to catch the first sailing of the ferry. A private carriage, tickets for two as far as Galway.”

Barnett inclined his head slightly. “Shall I have Davies pack a suitcase for you?”

“Please.”

“How long will you be staying in Galway?”

“I don’t know.” What business did Barnett have asking inane questions? “A week should be more than sufficient.”

“Very good, sir.” Barnett oozed out of the room.

Thomas crumpled Pip’s letter into the breast pocket of his jacket. He walked over to the sideboard, pouring himself a generous glass of whiskey. “Bloody banshees! What have you gotten into this time, Pip?”

2

The morning was brisk, a bite in the air. Winter was around the corner. Thomas gazed out the train window, his hands resting on his walking stick. Fields skimmed by outside the glass. Strange to think he might not live to see them covered in frost…

“This division of the park will require updating your existing will.” Morley wiped his glasses on his handkerchief, giving the impression that accompanying a client on a train journey was simply a day’s work. “The house remains entailed and the estate and title will descend to your heir.”

Thomas grunted. “And if Mr Leighton predeceases me?”

There was a slight pause before Morley answered. “In that event, we would make a search for