“What are you up to?” Winston asked when he found William staring at the computer screen the morning following the gala.
“Researching something,” William replied distractedly.
Winston leaned over his shoulder to look at the monitor. “Who is Hamstead?”
“The man who built the mansion we were at last night.”
Winston shot him a look. “Have you suddenly become interested in architecture, or perhaps history?”
“History, but only the history of this family.”
Moving over to rest one hip on the corner of the desk, Winston inquired, “Is there a reason for this?”
“Umm humm.” William nodded as he clicked the mouse to bring up another page in the article he was reading.
“Going to tell me?”
“Umm humm. In a minute.”
Winston jumped slightly as the printer next to him came to life and began spewing out pages. He picked up the first one, looking it over. “’The Tragic History of Hamstead House’ by Alan Hamstead. I presume that’s the original name of the mansion.”
“Yes.” William brought up the Google search page again and clicked on the next entry.
“Do you want me to leave you alone with this?”
“No, no. Just give me a couple more minutes.”
As good as his word a few minutes later William bookmarked the page he was on and looked at his brother. “I met someone last night.”
“OK. That’s a start. Who, if I may be nosy?”
“A woman. Her name’s Rebecca. She was a governess for the Hamsteads.”
Winston nodded. “Can I assume that she’s a ghost now, from the fact that you’re looking into their family history?”
“She is, and a very lovely one to boot. Not like the pictures you see of old, crabby looking governesses.”
Nodding again, not quite sure what to say, Winston finally asked, “Why is she still around?”
“She thinks she was murdered, or possibly committed suicide. I sort of promised her I’d see if I could find out the whole story so she could leave.”
“Now if this was a romance novel the two of you would fall in love while you were searching for the truth, and then she’d have to move on leaving you behind and devastated.”
William chuckled. “A remote possibility I suppose, although since I’m already dead it could have a happier ending if that happened. But it won’t.”
“I’m not on the market. As they say, once burned twice shy, and trust me dying for love, or what I thought was love, taught me a good lesson. It’s definitely not worth the risk to try again.”