Jenny Telfer Chaplin Read Online Free

she had come home. Ever since coming to Dunoon to flee the animosity generated by her ‘gut feelings’ and predictions in the past Mary had made a very conscious effort to try to ignore such premonitions and certainly avoided talking to anyone about them. Now in the doorway of Ivylea House she sensed a real welcome from Miss Patten and from whatever, or whoever, also lived there.
    Yes, she had come home.
     
    Had it not been for the auspicious meeting with Peter Wright and the later tea and sympathy with his mother Mary shuddered to think what fate might have befallen her.
    Instead of her fears, here was she entrenched, not as the lowly kitchen skivvy, but as the cook-housekeeper – chief cook and bottle washer as it were – in total command of Ivylea House. True, it wasn’t as big or nearly as grand as the ornate holiday homes built for the rich Glasgow merchants, their fussy wives and spoilt sons and daughters, but Ivylea House had its own ambience and style. It had also a very definite air of mystery.
    It was this latter quality together with the reputed eccentricities of the owner, Miss Elenora Patten, that was responsible for the rapid turnover in live-in staff. Mrs Wright had heard lurid tales of ghostly sightings and eerie séances – things that go bump in the night – but Mary, feeling that beggars could not afford to be choosers, had applied for the long vacant post. Despite her lack of training and actual experience at cooking, Mary had observed the methods and tricks of the succession of cooks at her previous post and was able to bluff her way, especially since Miss Patten was desperate to find staff of any calibre.
     
    As time went on the only things out of the ordinary were the frequent soirées over which Miss Patten presided. Her guests were regaled with tea and one-bite sandwiches made by Mary to her employer’s exact specifications then Mary having cleared the tea-things away on a large silver tray was dismissed.
    “Thank you Gregg, that will be all. You may now retire to your own quarters. Please ensure we are not disturbed in any manner whatsoever. When my guests are leaving I will personally escort them to the door. Goodnight, Gregg.”
    Following this dismissal in the grand manner Mary was left to her own devices after she had washed, dried and put away the dishes. She had become increasingly curious about what her employer and her guests did in the drawing room behind the heavy double doors. There was a grand piano in an alcove but there was never a note heard nor a voice raised in song. Did Miss Patten and her guests simply sit and chat? Why was it necessary to banish Mary to her room rather than have her serve late-night drinks or even snacks? She knew from the servants at her previous post that this was customary and the servants were rarely relieved of duty before all guests had gone.
    At last one evening Mary decided to satisfy her curiosity. Not brave enough or foolhardy enough to stand ear pressed against the doors and eavesdrop, she hid herself in a dark recess on the spiral staircase from which she could see and hear the guests as they left. Finally the doors to the drawing room opened and Mary at first could hear only the confused chatter of several people speaking at the same time. However, shortly she could make out snippets of conversation.
    “Miss Patten’s trance ...”
    “... spirit messages ...”
    “Oh ... when the table elevated ...”
    “I really could feel a presence ... a cold something ... actually touching my cheek ...”
    The guests finally all left and Mary was wondering when it would be safe to leave her hiding place.
    “Right then, Gregg.”
    It was Miss Patten’s irritated voice.
    “Out of there, at once! Come to the drawing room. Now!”
    Mary made her way down the stairs and into her mistress’s presence.
    “I’m disappointed in you, Gregg. I thought you were happy here. I thought we suited each other well enough, although it has to be said you’re not