The Curse of the Baron Roderick
by Bottou-chan

Part Two

"Ah, you you’re Neon! We’ve heard so much about you from your uncle, Baron Roderick," said Bronwyn, a plump, round, elderly woman with a cheerful smile. She had been the cook for Neon’s uncle. "It’s nice to meet you. And your friends are--?"

::I sent him a Christmas card every other year:: thought Neon, but she smiled with equal warmth. "Meet Joker and Raiha," she said in English, introducing the one, then the other.

"My, you’re lucky to have such handsome men-friends," said Bronwyn admiringly. "We haven’t had such lookers here in the last thirty years, I daresay. Peter will fetch your luggage for you—Peter!"

"Here, ma’am," said a skinny, lanky youth with sandy hair. He looked to be about fifteen or sixteen, and had been standing in the shadows, quietly admiring Neon.

"Go fetch their luggage. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll have to get supper on the table, but Caitlyn should be able to show you to your rooms. So you can freshen up from your trip, and unpack. Unless you’d prefer for us to unpack for you?"

"Oh, we’re quite used to taking care of ourselves," said Raiha, politely.

"I’ll help Peter with the luggage," offered Joker helpfully, and disappeared out the door.

"What a kind, thoughtful man!" beamed Bronwyn, not noticing the sweatdrop effect her words had on Neon.

Sweatdrops didn’t exist in Ireland.

* * *

"The property here is amazing," said Raiha at suppertime. He, Joker, and Neon sat at the table, eating their soup. The staff—Bronwyn, Peter, Caitlyn, Harold, and Keefe—lined against one wall, ready to change out the courses and answer any questions.

"We’ve got over a thousand acres of woods back there," said Keefe, somewhat middle-aged, but still vibrant and lively. He was the gamekeeper for the estate. "Baron Roderick used to be really big with the hunting and fishing crowd."

"Yes, I’d noticed the trophy mounts in the front hall," said Neon, having mentally crossed them off from the list of things-to-keep. They made the manor look like a museum stairwell.

"Oi, Mr. Keefe—"

"Just Keefe, please, sir."

"All right. Keefe, if it isn’t too much trouble tomorrow, would you be kind enough to take Raiha and myself out to the lake for a little fishing?"

"Well, Mr. Odokemono—"

"Oh, call me Hiroji."

Neon snickered, but hid her smile behind her napkin as she daintily patted at her lips.

"Well, Mr. Hiroji, I’d love to take you out to enjoy the water and the fish. We have some mighty fine fish swimming in there… if you’re fortunate enough, you might catch Old Mac. He’s the biggest, most cunning old fish you’ve ever seen."

"How do you know he exists?" asked Raiha politely.

"You can see him, swimming just under the water… quite a big one, he is. He’s been snagged a few times, but he always manages to break your line, or free himself from your hook. But mostly, he just steals your bait and swims off, laughing."

"Sounds like a fine plan," said Raiha, nodding his approval. "Neon, what would you care to spend tomorrow doing?"

"The library looks quite interesting," said Neon. "I might go looking in there, just for an idea of what kind of books my family collected." ::And see if I can find any valuable first-editions I wouldn’t mind selling off,:: she added mentally.

Bronwyn and Caitlyn exchanged a look. "Don’t ever go in there at night," warned Caitlyn, suddenly looking much too serious for her nineteen years. She had been Neon’s uncle’s maid at one time, and Joker mentally redesigned her outfit. At the moment, it was rather like what Mori’s household wore. Joker made up his mind that if he ever had a staff of maids working for him, they should dress like maids should—in much shorter skirts, and frillier aprons. Not quite as functional or practical, but more aesthetically pleasing, ne?

"Why not?" asked Raiha, perfectly aware of what was going on in Joker’s mind. He gave Joker a mock-scolding look. Joker stuck his tongue out. In order for Raiha to have read his mind, that meant that Raiha had been thinking along similar lines…

Caitlyn looked a bit embarrassed. "It’s haunted," she explained. "I never, ever dust or vacuum in there at nighttime anymore. The ghost of one of the ladies of the past haunts the library. I saw her once, and it was horribly frightening."

"Perhaps she can’t sleep and wants a good read," suggested Neon practically.

Bronwyn shook her head vigorously. "I hadn’t meant to bring up the subject of The Curse, but perhaps it’s best to warn you. The estate is haunted by a number of spirits, all of them female. The women in your family are subject to horrible fates, and they’re doomed to roam the property for all eternity."

"My mother died of pneumonia," said Neon matter-of-factly. "That’s not exactly a horrible fate… it just happened. That’s life. It all ends somewhere… and then you have new beginnings."

"Let me rephrase that," said Harold, the butler. "The women in your family who live here have been subject to twists of fate which drive them to suicide," he explained.

"So what happened to Library Girl?" inquired Raiha curiously.

"She was the wife of the fifth Baron, and was caught in a compromising situation in the library with her lover, a lordling who was a friend of the Baron’s," said Harold. "Because her name and reputation were so tarnished, she decided to take her own life and was found the next morning, having poisoned herself."

"Oi, Neon, I suppose we’d better stay away from the library for our midnight rendezvous," suggested Joker mischeviously. "If Raiha catches us, I don’t want you to feel obliged to give Library Girl your eternal company."

"Baka," sniffed Neon, lapsing into her Japanese and confusing the staff temporarily.

"How about the lake?" inquired Raiha, with a mischevious glint in his eye. "Any spirits wandering there?"

"The daughter of the second Baron," answered Keefe promptly. "She lurks inside the boathouse, and on occasion, will be seen floating above the surface of the lake. Her father had arranged for her to be married to a certain knight, but she was in love with one of the manor’s staff. Because of the differences in their stations, their love was doomed from the start. She eventually gave up and threw herself overboard into the water during a boating party one day, and drowned herself."

"So wouldn’t she be seen wading through the water, or swimming under it, instead of walking on top of it?" inquired Joker impishly.

Keefe shrugged. "She walks on top of it," he answered firmly. "But I only see her at night. Still, during the day, you can hear her moans of torment." His voice dropped to a mysterious whisper.

"More like the wind through the boathouse cracks," suggested Raiha.

"Don’t dismiss her so lightly," warned Bronwyn. "Spirits don’t like to be ignored or made fun of. If you do, bad things will happen to you." She looked concerned. "And you’re such a nice bunch, too, I’d hate to see anything bad befall you."

Joker, Neon, and Raiha exchanged glances. How many of their victims would call them a ‘nice bunch’? They grinned at each other, as people sharing secrets do, and then nodded.

"It would be horrible to make Lake Girl or Library Girl upset with us," said Joker.

"I feel terrible about having doubted you," agreed Neon.

"Perhaps we should set up a shrine with memorial tablets and burn incense for them," suggested Raiha solemnly. "What were their Buddhist names?"

Bronwyn looked annoyed. "Whatever do you mean?" she asked.

"You live a Shinto, but you die a Buddhist," explained Joker.

"Sillies… this isn’t Japan," scolded Neon. "They do things differently here." She rolled her eyes. She’d expected Raiha, of all people, to know that much.

"What do they do here?" asked Raiha solemnly, although he already knew. He was merely ‘having fun with the locals.’

"We put flowers at the gravestones and pray for their souls," said Caitlyn dubiously.

"But would they mind incense?" Raiha’s face was a serious mask.

"I don’t think so," said Caitlyn, awkwardly.

"I’ve got some incense in my suitcase," suggested Joker. "Everyone’s more than welcome to a few sticks of it, if it will engender happier feelings between the living and the non-living."

"Whatever were you doing with incense in your suitcase?" asked Neon, bewildered.

Joker’s fangs glinted impishly. "In case if you, away from the strict watch of Kurei, decided to indulge yourself in my presence… I thought it might help set the mood… you know."

"Oh, my," said Bronwyn, her eyes round and alarmed. "Whatever would your uncle say if you were to do such things!"

Neon thought about remarking that she had done much worse, but decided against it. "You can have all the incense, Raiha," she said generously. "I can assure you that nothing he brought could possibly make me want to… er, indulge in his presence." She rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. Whatever had induced her to accept their tagging along?

However, Harold’s bringing in of the main course provided a good distraction as they ooh’ed and ahhh’ed over the roast, making Bronwyn beam with pleasure. The conversation was firmly channeled away from such controversial subjects as ghosts or midnight meetings, and small talk reigned supreme for the rest of the evening.

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