A Man Of Many Talents Read Online Free PDF

daresay!” the colonel exclaimed, chuckling heartily.
    “I must admit that he seems to be rather selective as to when he shows himself and to whom,” Miss Parkinson noted, looking none too pleased at the observation. Perhaps, as hostess, she was feeling left out.
    “And just where does he appear when he deigns to do so?” Christian asked.
    “Oh, he’s choosy in that regard as well,” Miss Penrod said, with the enthusiasm she seemed to display in all matters ghostly. She dropped her voice dramatically. “I cannot say for certain, but I suspect that he is confined to his earthly domain.”
    “And where might that be?” Christian asked. Despite his better judgment, he was becoming fascinated.
    “Why, in the great hall, of course,” Miss Penrod answered. “These rooms you see around you were all added later on to the original structure, which Sir Boundefort built himself.”
    Christian tried to express the appropriate awe at that announcement without revealing any of his contempt for the structure itself. Turning toward his hostess, he asked, “Might I have a look?”
    “Certainly,” she said, pushing back her chair with her usual authority. Unfortunately, everyone else rose, too, even the colonel, who was still chewing. Snatching up a last date from a nearby bowl, he hurried to keep up with the rest of them, while Christian swallowed his disappointment.
    Compared to the great houses of the nobility, Sibel Hall wasn’t large, but it was a decent size, and as Miss Parkinson led him through a series of rooms, Christian realized that the original core was much older than he had suspected. He reached out to touch a painted wall, faded and dusty, but in truth he was far more interested in the pair of hips ahead of him, swaying in an almost imperceptible rhythm. Almost. Luckily, he was a very perceptive sort.
    Now, if only he weren’t surrounded by the cousins, a thundering herd certain to ruin a mood, as well as scare off any respectable ghost. Behind him Mercia was chattering away happily about her own encounters with the specter, while the colonel was loudly expressing his reservations, and Emery was shuffling along wearing a mutinous expression. Suddenly Christian was seized by a devilish urge to turn around and yell bloody murder. Just for his own amusement, of course, certainly not to get rid of them so he might be alone with the Governess.
    The great hall was not that vast, but it was big enough to be cold and drafty and dark—the perfect spot for a haunting. “I’m told this is where he appeared to th e first interested buyer and the solicitor, who refuses now to return. The second man was being shown about by Cousin Mercia,” Miss Parkinson said.
    “Oh, yes, this is his place,” Mercia said, in hushed tones, just as though she were communing with the spirit as she spoke. Christian glanced about. Although the hall itself might be original, over the years someone had made improvements. The old hearth had been abandoned and a large fireplace installed along the exterior wall. A heavy wooden screen at one end probably concealed the old kitchens, which must have been turned to new use or abandoned.
    As if following his gaze, Miss Parkinson said, “That’s the spot.” Christian felt unaccountably delighted that she was watching him, but tried to assume a serious pose as he perused the area. He thought the “spot” rather conveniently located near the edge of the screen and wondered if that was deliberate, so that the ghost might hide behind it when not making an appearance.
    Christian stepped closer, but he saw nothing except gaping blackness behind the open-worked wood. He felt no chills beyond the drafts inherent in old stone spaces and heard nothing above the booming voice of the colonel, who was commenting volubly and loudly enoug h to frighten anyone, human or not.
    “Yes, this old place probably housed a few knights in its day!” the former military man was saying. “Our ancestors may have