A Man Of Many Talents Read Online Free PDF Page A

rather dreary affair, the food plain and none too plentiful, and the conversation stultifying. The colonel appeared to eat a prodigious amount, while Emery pushed his small portions around on his plate, still apparently sulking. Christian couldn’t decide if his manner simply reflected an insecure youth’s wariness of an outsider or something more sinister.
    Or maybe the colonel’s booming voice put him off his food. Somehow, the old fellow managed to do most of the talking as well as most of the eating, telling long tales of his military career that nearly set Christian to nodding off. The stories had nothing to do with Sibel Hall, its inhabitants, or the alleged specter, and Christian wondered if that was the man’s intention—to distract him from the matter at hand.
    Finally, when the colonel had just taken a huge bite of some sort of fowl in a nondescript sauce, Christian cut in. It was time to get down to business. “Please, tell me about the ghost,” he urged the table in general.
    From the colonel’s response, he might as well have called for high treason. The old fellow looked like he was going to choke, and Christian considered slapping him on the back. Emery made some indistinct sound of contempt, whether directed at the subject or at the colonel Christian wasn’t sure, while the colonel swallowed hastily.
    “Well, that’s the thing, my lord,” he said, without spewing too much of his food. “Don’t like to discuss it. Upsets the ladies,” he added in that loud undertone of his, as though the women were deaf or absent.
    Miss Parkinson was neither, and Christian prepared him self for the anticipated setdown. But before the Governess could bang the old man’s knuckles, either figuratively or literally, Miss Penrod spoke.
    “Nonsense, Colonel. I, for one, am quite fascinated with our most famous ancestor.” She turned to Christian. “Sir Boundefort was a pious man who took up the cross to fight in the last Crusade and returned to establish this family. Indeed, he—”
    Emery cut in, rather curtly. “Most of what we know is just hearsay. I’ve been unable to verify any details.”
    “Emery is our resident scholar,” Miss Penrod explained. “He has been doing his best to research the history of the family.”
    Emery scowled, as if his duty were a necessary but painful one. Or perhaps he was simply bilious from the indigestible meal.
    “And have you discovered just why he has taken to haunting the place?” Christian asked.
    Unfortunately, scholarly Emery chose that moment to study his food, but Miss Parkinson stepped into the breach, much to Christian’s delight. “The theory is that he is against the sale of Sibel Hall,” she said.
    “Has he said as much?” Christian asked.
    “Of course not. He doesn’t speak,” Miss Parkinson replied, adopting her disapproving tone.
    “How do you know? Have you tried to converse with him?” Christian asked.
    That appeared to fluster her. “Certainly not! I’ve never even seen him.”
    “I have! And I tried to communicate with him, but he only moaned and waved his arms, as if in distress,” Miss Penrod said.
    “I see,” Christian said, steepling his hands together. As Miss Penrod was hardly what he would call a reliable witness, he wondered just who else had viewed the apparition.
    “Emery has seen him, too,” the colonel boomed out in answer to his silent query. Now why hadn’t he guessed that?
    Christian glanced toward the young man, who stammered and sputtered. “I thought I saw him. It may only have been a trick of the light,” Emery protested.
    “But you were quite sure before,” the colonel argued loudly. “Said he held up his hand in warning.”
    “I saw something. I’m not certain what it was,” Emery snapped.
    “Perhaps the solicitor and the two gentlemen interested in purchasing the manor can provide you with further descriptions, for they both saw the specter,” Miss Parkinson said.
    “Chased them out of the place, I