Vintage Pride (11 page)

Ethan expected the liquid to come gushing out but Marcus’ expert handling of the bottle meant he didn’t spill a drop.

Marcus poured glasses for everyone then handed them round, giving them a couple of moments to savor the taste.

“That’s good,” Kim pronounced at length.

The others nodded in unison.

“This is from last year’s harvest and I have to say we’re incredibly pleased with it. Though when we bottled it, we really didn’t know how it was going to turn out. The grapes we use in this region are mostly chardonnay, and they’re susceptible to diseases that don’t necessarily affect other varieties. Thanks to the weather conditions last summer we had a real problem with millerandage. That’s when some of the grapes in a bunch don’t mature properly. They just stay small and hard and you aren’t able to use them. Luckily, what the smaller yield meant for us was that we produced fewer bottles than usual but they’re of a very high quality. We’re actually able to declare it as a vintage year.”

“And what about this year?” Ethan said. He sipped from his glass again, letting the bubbles dance on his tongue. He wasn’t sure he’d know how to tell a good Champagne from a bad one but if he was pushed, he’d say this had a fullness to it, a maturity he hadn’t been expecting from what he’d always thought of as a light, fizzy drink.

“It’s too early to say. It’s been a wet summer but we’ve had an unseasonably warm autumn, so that’s bound to have some effect on the grapes. They certainly seem to have matured properly but when it comes to making Champagne, there are so many variables. Most producers only declare a vintage around three years out of every ten. The really good stuff is always at a premium, and that’s why it can be so expensive.”

A phone sounded, its shrill ringtone echoing off the cellar walls. Marcus reached into his pocket to bring it out. He glanced at his guests apologetically. “Sorry. I’m afraid I have to answer this.”

“That’s not a problem,” Dex said. “We need to start setting up the equipment for tonight anyway.”

“If you need me, I’ll be in the office.” Marcus waved a hand in the direction of a door. “And if you can’t find me there, I’ll be out inspecting the vines.” He turned away from them to begin speaking into the phone in fluent French.

“Okay, guys, time to get going.”

Ethan knew from Dex’s tone that he had snapped into work mode. He gulped down the last of his drink then followed his technical manager to where they’d parked the van.

Chapter Eleven

Ethan entered the scullery clutching a couple of microphones. Mireille, the young maid and kitchen assistant, smiled at him as he passed then returned to her task of peeling carrots. She seemed remarkably sanguine given that all around her was a state of organized chaos.

“Okay, so what we’re doing here is putting our recording equipment in the places which seem to be the focus of the activity in the château.” Dex addressed the camera, reciting a version of the spiel he gave as part of the setting-up segment in every show. “And in this case, that’s the scullery and the storage cellar. Our hope is that we’ll experience what we call an Electronic Voice Phenomenon, or EVP. We’ll throw out questions, ask the spirits to talk to us and if they reply, we’ll be able to capture it on tape.”

He turned away to receive the microphones from Ethan.

“Where’s Kim?” Ethan asked.

“She’s next door, rigging up the remote recording device that’ll give us a view of the passageway and the cellar door. I don’t intend to leave anything to chance here.”

Since he’d first joined the show, Dex had worked on developing a brusque, no-nonsense persona for the cameras. No matter how extreme the circumstances they found themselves in, Ethan had never once seen Dex lose his cool.

“Where d’you want me to put the microphone?”

Dex pointed to an alcove on the opposite side of the room to the butcher’s sink where Mireille worked. “Up there should do it.”

“Okay.” Ethan pulled a chair out from under the table. He used it to stand on while he taped the microphone in place. All the pieces of recording equipment were linked up to the monitors that had been installed in a small anteroom just off the château’s entrance hall. From there, if Dex wasn’t conducting one of his regular patrols around the building, he would be able to watch the feeds from the numerous static cameras. If he spotted anything of interest, he’d be able to make a note of the time and date, saving the crew the tedious process of sifting through hours of footage to find the relevant incident.

Satisfied that the mic was secure, Ethan went to put the chair back. “Right, now what?”

“Well, if Mireille doesn’t mind, I think we should ask her a few questions. Find out what she’s experienced in this room.” Dex turned to address the maid. “Are you okay with that?”

Mireille paused in her vegetable preparation duties. “
Pardon, Monsieur
?”

“We’d like to talk to you about whatever’s haunting this room,” Dex explained. “And we’d like to use what you tell us in the show—but only if you give your permission.”

“You mean I would be appearing on television?” Mireille almost squealed with excitement. “Oh, but of course.”

Dex broke into a grin. “That’s great. I’ll just get Pete to bring the camera in.” He took his walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke it into it. “Hey, Pete, where are you and Leon right now?”

Pete’s voice crackled back over the radio, “We’re just filming Kim setting up the mikes in the cellar. We need a couple more shots and then we’re good.”

“Okay, can we borrow you when you’re done? We’re over in the scullery with the cute little kitchen maid…”

“Be right with you, Dex.”

“Great.” Dex smiled as he ended their conversation.

Ethan regarded Mireille as they waited for the camera crew to arrive. She couldn’t have been more than twenty, with a sweet, heart-shaped face. Her dark hair had been twisted into a roll and secured in place with various clips. She wore the same black dress and white apron she’d had on when helping to serve dinner the night before. He knew she’d come across well on camera. She had an innocent air that would connect with the viewers and make them inclined to believe her story.

“Okay, what do you need us to do?” Pete asked, appearing in the open doorway.

He cradled a lightweight digital video camera in his arms. Behind him came Leon, clutching a boom microphone on a pole.

“I’m gonna do a quick interview with Mireille,” Ethan told him. “Mireille, we’re going to walk through the scullery while I talk to you, and I’d like you to show me where you were when the spirit appeared to you.”

“
Bien sur
,” Mireille replied. “Of course.”

Ethan waited as Pete raised the camera to his eye and turned in a slow half-circle, taking a panoramic shot of the scullery that would be used to introduce the sequence. Once he was certain his cameraman was happy with the result, he started to walk slowly through the room, Mireille at his side.

“So, Mireille, tell me where we are,” Ethan said.

“This is the scullery—the room where we do most of the kitchen preparation.” Her English was a little halting but she spoke with confidence.

“And how long have you worked for the LeBlanc family?”

“I’ve only been here six months. When I told my mother I was applying for the job, she wasn’t happy. Everyone in our village knows there is a ghost in this place, and
Maman
was afraid something bad would happen to me here.”

“This ghost, who is it?” Ethan smiled at Mireille, encouraging her to share the story.

“A woman dressed in gray. She walks the passageway that leads to the kitchen. They say she was once a maid like me, and that she was killed when the mob attempted to storm Château LeBlanc during the Revolution. Thomas the chef has seen her on more than one occasion.”

“And have you?”

Mireille shook her head. “
Non
, but I have felt her presence. I was working in here late one evening, cleaning up after supper, when the temperature suddenly dropped. The room was like ice. My teeth chattered, and I had the terrible certainty that I was no longer alone.” She shivered as she recalled the event. “I knew who was in the room but I dared not turn my head for fear that I would see her. I wanted to call out to Thomas and beg him to come into the scullery but I couldn’t find my voice. And my whole mood had changed. It was if a terrible gloom had come upon me.”

“Really?”

“Truly, I wanted to weep. But in a moment the feeling had passed and everything was as it had been before. And I knew she had gone.”

Ethan looked over at Pete and gave him a barely discernible nod to signal that he’d finished the interview. “Thanks, Mireille. That was great. Just what we needed. But I’d like to speak to Thomas, too, if that’s possible. Find out what he saw.”

“He’s in the kitchen. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

As if on cue, the short, plump chef strode into the room. “Mireille, are those carrots ready?” he asked before glancing round and noticing the TV crew. “What’s happening here?”

“We’ve been talking to Mireille about the gray lady who appears in the scullery. She said you’d seen the apparition and I was hoping you’d tell us exactly what happened.”

Thomas wiped his hands on his apron. “I’m not sure about that. I don’t want people to think I’m crazy.”

“Oh, there’s no danger of that,” Dex assured him. “Everyone who appears on the show gets a very sympathetic hearing. We’re trying to prove that what you saw was real, not make you out to be a fool.”

His answer seemed to mollify Thomas, who did his best to straighten his disordered pepper-and-salt hair before turning to Pete’s lens. “Do I just speak into this?”

“No, we’d really like to pretend the camera isn’t even here,” Ethan said. “I just want you to take me to where the incident occurred.”

Thomas nodded. “Come with me.”

He led Ethan out into the passageway, Pete and Leon following quickly behind so as not to miss anything of the chef’s tale. Halfway between the scullery and the door that led down to the cellar, he paused.

“Is this the place?” Ethan asked.

“This was where I saw her the first time. I had only been employed by Monsieur LeBlanc for a matter of days. I was bringing a leg of lamb from the meat refrigerator in the scullery…” He looked around him and laughed. “Funny the little details you remember. Then, out of nowhere, the figure of a woman appeared just ahead of me. She had her back to me and I never saw her face. But she wore a long, gray dress—nothing like the maid’s uniforms, so I knew it could not be a member of the household staff. She was only there for a moment. But I knew my eyes had not deceived me. I’ve seen her twice more since then, always in the same spot.”

“Mireille said that she knew the spirit was around because the temperature dropped. Did you notice anything similar?”

Thomas nodded. “Whoever she is, she seems to suck all the warmth from the air.”

“People have left their jobs at the château after they’ve encountered this woman in gray. Why have you stayed?” Ethan was genuinely interested to learn the answer. When he’d spoken to others who’d had a similar experience it always seemed to him that those who’d had no prior belief in the paranormal were more likely to be freaked out than those who were convinced ghosts existed.

“I don’t feel that she means me any specific harm. It’s like she is trapped here, and she is simply looking for a way to be set free.”

“Thanks, Thomas. You’ve given us a lot of useful information.” Ethan shook the chef’s hand. “But I’d better let you get back to preparing dinner now.”

“I’m glad to be of help. And I will be very interested to discover the results of your investigation.”

Once Thomas had left them, Ethan turned to Pete. “Okay, so you’ve got footage of us setting up the equipment and eyewitness testimony from the kitchen staff. Do you need anything else?”

“We need to spend a few minutes with Marcus, so he can tell us those anecdotes from last night,” Pete replied. “Get the historical context for the ghost sightings. I mean, the guy’s such a great storyteller, we could just show half an hour of him talking about the beast that’s supposed to protect the château and all the other crazy stuff. But I know he’s busy so we don’t need to do that right now.”

“Okay, well, I think Dex has finished rigging the monitors. We’ve just got to string up a couple of mics in the garden and then I think we can all go put our heads down for a few hours.” He stared down the passageway, trying to picture the gray-clad apparition Thomas claimed to have seen. “I get the feeling it’s going to be a long night.”

Chapter Twelve

“So here we are in the scullery, where several people claim to have seen or felt the specter of a woman dressed in gray. She’s believed to have died at the time of the French Revolution and has been haunting the Château LeBlanc ever since.” Ethan spoke for the benefit of the camera.

The thin beam of his flashlight bounced off the walls and he and Kim picked their way through the darkened room.

“I’m going to put a couple of EVP questions out there, see if we get a response.”

It was their regular method of operation—address the ghost directly and hope to get some kind of answer on tape. The thinking was it would help to provide the proof they needed that some presence lingered in this place.

He glanced around him. “Spirit, if you can hear us, know that we mean you no harm. We are respectful of your presence here but we would like to know who you are and why you walk these corridors.”

The silence stretched out between them. Kim looked at Ethan. Despite the relative warmth of the night, she wore a heavy pea coat and a knitted cap. Once they’d finished their inspection here, they’d be heading out into the garden. He wished he’d worn a thicker coat, rather than the
Spirit Seekers
standard issue padded bomber jacket. Maybe it was his imagination playing tricks on him but he could swear the scullery had grown noticeably colder since they’d entered.

“Can you tell us your name?” she asked as she walked a few steps away from Ethan. “Let us know who hurt you?”