Chapter 13 - The Wisdom of Mr. Shelley

Mr. and Mrs. Shelley might have been ghosts, but their behavior gave no hint of it. If not for their translucence, they would have appeared normal, only with their clothes a bit outdated.

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Recap: In the previous chapter, Bamoy was saved from his wife’s rant by a visit.

Who would walk all the way to a graveyard to visit the one family living there? They couldn’t be living visitors; they were none other than the spirits of Mr. and Mrs. Shelley.

After l learning that Marjorie had been invited to a ball at the home that was formerly theirs, Mr. Shelley asked Johann whether he and his wife might accompany her to that event. Johann replied that they would have to ask Marjorie. He then retreated with haste to his study, where he sought silence in which to prepare.

His estranged half-sister, Astrid, was to visit in the morning—so he did, indeed, need to be prepared.

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Marjorie and Adam stared in wonder at the figures that floated before them.

Mr. and Mrs. Shelley might have been ghosts, but their behavior gave no indication of it. If not for their translucence, they would have appeared normal, only with their clothes a bit outdated.

Both spirits took in the decor in the parlor. Mrs. Shelley admired Mama’s carefully arranged knickknacks, hands clasped in a demure manner. Marjorie could make believe that they were living guests who had decided to greet the inhabitants of the graveyard house.

“You favor your father,” said Mrs. Shelley to Marjorie, once she had finished studying the unicorn tapestries.

Mrs. Shelley’s voice was kind; Marjorie could picture her as a grandmother, baking cookies for her grandchildren.

She was struck with a sudden longing for that—for the privilege of grandparents of her own, from whom she could hear stories.

Neither Mama nor Papa had kept in touch with their parents. Papa’s nomadic life made it difficult to write letters. Two years past, Astrid had found his address and sent a missive announcing her marriage (no one knew how she’d found his address, so it must have been with the aid of magic). Papa had replied, but Marjorie didn’t know what he wrote.

“Thank you,” Marjorie said to Mrs. Shelley. “Mama seems to think so, too.”

“My guess is that you inherited his magical abilities,” said Mr. Shelley.

Marjorie nodded. “He promised to be my tutor, but I’m afraid that, with all that has been going on, he’s been distracted.”

Mr. Shelley grimaced. “We did appear at an inconvenient time,” he acknowledged. “We hope that, with the visit you’re expecting, matters will be resolved—and we will return to our restful states. Afterwards, we hope you and your family will enjoy the pleasures life has to offer.

“If ever you wondered whether the dead would like to rise, here’s your answer. It is not natural for humans to live past an amount of years, and certainly not natural for them to return after death. Do not long for immortality, Miss and Master Brahms; rather, concentrate on living the life you have been given.”

Marjorie and Adam exchanged a glance when Mr. Shelley finished his speech.

Perhaps he is taking the place of a grandfather, after all, she thought. He had offered a lesson based on his experiences—before and after death—a lesson she would not have been able to hear anywhere else.

Mrs. Shelley spoke next. Though her eyes retained the glow of a ghost, there was a touch of apology. “He’s accustomed to making speeches. When we were alive, he was consulted often by villagers. He had influence over them because he knew how to speak eloquently.”

“They listened,” her husband reminded her. “Most of the time, what I had to say made perfect sense.”

“Yes, I won’t deny that. You set the village’s foundations, and it thrived into a town.”

Marjorie cleared her throat; if the ghostly lady was making conversation, it would be rude to stare at her glowing figure.

“I believe so,” she said, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders (and trying to do so subtly, so as to not offend her guest, who was the source of the chill). “New stores spring up all the time; farmers constantly drop in to buy land.”

“Delightful,” said Mr. Shelley. “I always knew the terrain surrounding this hill was blessed, and that the community would thrive. Have you been to the city, Miss Brahms?”

“Edinburgh? No,” said Marjorie. “I would like to, though, one day. I fear that I’d be overwhelmed by the people. I’ve scarcely visited my own town; how would I fare in a place bustling with strangers?”

“Courage!” Mr. Shelley proclaimed. “Without courage, little in history would have been accomplished! I understand your wariness. Consider visiting with your father. Do not go to large cities alone; such places are unfit for unaccompanied ladies.”

Adam spoke, voice stiff as if he was trying his hardest not to sound nervous around the spirits.

“I could go with her,” he said, lifting his chin in a display of courage. “I’d like to see Edinburgh, too; why should she have all of the fun?”

“In that case,” said Mr. Shelley with a hearty laugh, “you’d best wait a few years.”

Before Adam could make a protest about how he was certainly old enough to accompany Marjorie, Mama came in bearing a tray of tea-things.

She paused next to her guests and said, “I would offer you some, but…”

“Don’t worry about us,” said Mrs. Shelley kindly. “Your children need tea to keep warm; we are content with conversation. None of the spirits outside are up for a chat. They wail and moan, but do not offer entertainment.”

Mama managed a smile. “I have not entertained many people in my home, but I’m happy to do so with you.” She placed the tray on the table and asked, “You were speaking of Edinburgh?”

“The young lady has dreams of traveling,” said Mr. Shelley, “and we were offering advice, so that she can be safe when that opportunity arises. I’ve been to Edinburgh, and I can imagine it’s changed quite a bit since then…”

“Most of the old buildings have not,” said Mama. “There are more people, but the city retains its ancient charm.”

“Excellent,” said Mr. Shelley. “I cannot imagine the castles have lost their glory, either. Ah! Mr. Brahms. Your daughter has expressed a desire to visit Edinburgh; if ever you go, I think she would benefit from accompanying you.”

Papa had reentered the room with a more composed expression. He turned to smile at Marjorie.

“As my pupil, she would certainly be with me if I decided to go,” he said. “But we have other matters to tend to first. Nina, take a seat; I’ll prepare your tea.”

“You never prepared my tea for me,” Mrs. Shelley said to her husband with mild reproach.

Mr. Shelley looked sheepish. “You’d have had my head if I added too much sugar,” was his reply. He shifted uncomfortably on the spot where he’d formerly stood unmoving, having no bones or muscles to cramp from maintaining a position for an hour.

Marjorie laughed and reached for her own cup, dropping a cube of sugar into the fragrant liquid.

She realized, as she prepared her tea, that the environment in the room was amiable. It was not something she’d have expected with two ghosts at the door. Aside from the cold that came with their presence, they were coherent and intelligent people.

“We must again thank you for keeping the other ghosts out of our home,” Papa was saying to Mr. Shelley, as he prepared Mama’s tea. “It would have been impossible for me to think of solutions, if I found myself distracted by other lost souls.”

“Orville has always felt a need to be helpful,” said Mrs. Shelley. “He would be most crabby if all he had to do was watch our ghostly brethren flail miserably.”

Marjorie held her breath in an attempt not to giggle at Mrs. Shelley’s words. Laughter, she thought, is what we need after all that’s taken place.

“Miss Brahms,” said Mr. Shelley, and she looked up. “We wondered if we might accompany you to the ball on Saturday. It is being hosted at the home where we once lived. I built that house, you know. We both have a desire to see what it’s like now.”

Marjorie looked at her father, whose expression encouraged her to reply: “Certainly, if I do go. It depends on what Aunt Astrid can do for us.”

“No, little rose,” said Papa, to her surprise. “I have kept you in the house long enough. You shall attend the ball; if I must accompany you, so be it.”

So great was Marjorie’s joy that she felt tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Mama smiled, though there was something sad about that smile.

“In that case,” Marjorie managed, “of course you can come.”

Mr. Shelley bowed in gratitude; Mrs. Shelley clapped her hands with glee.

“Right,” said Papa, once he’d handed the cup of tea to Mama. “Mr. Shelley, I am expecting a visit in the morning which should solve this problem for all of us—at least, that is my hope. Though you have already offered, I feel it would be polite to ask. You managed to prevent the other ghosts from wandering into our home last night. Could you do it again now?”

“I would be delighted to aid you once more. It isn’t as if we need physical rest. We wish you the best of luck in meeting your long-lost sister. It is unfortunate that feuds in families should continue, even as centuries pass. Perhaps you can resolve whatever it is that caused the split.”

Papa crossed his arms over his chest, staring into the shadows with a tired, forlorn expression.

“You do not know the situation which caused the split. It was my fault. I’m not confident Astrid won’t try to exact her revenge by refusing to aid me.”

Marjorie frowned; what did he mean by that? Before she could ask any questions, he continued:

“All I can do is hope, and offer the sincerest of apologies. I will tell you tomorrow if it ends well, and if she has words of advice as to how we might resume your eternal rest.”

“Very good,” said Mr. Shelley. “Marilyn and I will be the only ghosts to enter your home tonight. A word of advice, though, Mr. Brahms: be grateful that you have the opportunity to make an apology. Many ghosts in the graveyard wail because people to whom they wish to apologize are not buried here. You will find peace, Mr. Brahms, after having that conversation—difficult as it will be.”

Papa listened soberly to the gentleman’s advice. He hesitated before nodding once.

“Thank you, sir,” he said. “Coming from you, those words carry great meaning. Is there someone you wish you could have apologized to before…?” He trailed off, as if fearing he would offend Mr. Shelley by mentioning death.

“Oh, yes,” said Mr. Shelley, his face becoming sad. “A great many. Remember these words, Mr. Brahms: we might have somehow been stirred from death, but ordinarily, mistakes can only be patched up in life. Once we breathe our last, we lose the opportunity to fix what’s been broken. Good night, Brahms family; rest well, for you will not be disturbed by the souls outside.”

“Good night,” said Papa, and Mama nodded, her eyes wide with emotion at the ghost’s confession.

Marjorie watched Mr. and Mrs. Shelley vanish before her very eyes. In a split second, the spot where they’d stood was empty, as if they’d been nothing but moonlight spilling through the window.

She turned to her father and considered asking him what it was that he must apologize to Aunt Astrid for.

She was discouraged by the tired expression that he wore. He had agreed to let her attend the ball; that was enough for one night.

I will ask some other time, she thought, and took a sip from her tea.

Or perhaps never. Parents have the right to their secrets.