The lord of the castle had died. It meant big changes for him. This is his story from that moment, told by him. "It is so strange, with him not here with us," I heard my youngest daughter say. Frances glanced to see that no one was watching her, then looked at me, and then turned her head towards my chair twice. My chair was up against the table. "My chair is up against the table," I said. No one else heard. Without answering, she stood, marched imperiously to my chair, and drew it back far enough for me to sit on. "What are you doing?" asked Lisbeth. "If we are going to leave his seat empty for him, then we should draw it back so that he could sit on it," said Frances. Bascombe returned. He was Richard's butler now. "Bascombe, in future will you make sure that my father's seat is reserved for him with the chair drawn back?" asked Frances. Bascombe glanced at me quickly. Only Frances noticed. "Of course, my lady," he answered. At the same time, Frances signaled again that I should take my seat. "Why do you smile at his chair as though he is here?" Lisbeth asked. Bascombe looked alarmed. "I am sorry," said Frances. "I find I keep imagining that he is still here. I can't help myself." "I had an invisible friend," said Richard's wife. "You never told me that," said Richard. "You never asked," she said. "It was something I could see. A kind of shape. No more. I talked to it, and I wished it would reply, but it never did. When I got older it stopped coming to me." "That's very interesting, Mildred," said Lisbeth, with a flicker of her eyes towards Francis. "Have you seen my father's ghost at all?" "Goodness, what a conversation," my wife said. "We had a family ghost too," said Frances's husband. "You never told me these things," said Frances. "We must visit the old section of the castle." "I hate to invite myself, but can we come too?" asked Richard's wife, Mildred. "What a party," said Frances. "Would you like to come, mother." "No, thank you," said my wife. I thought about inviting myself, but Frances gave me a warning look. "No, don't sit there. That's his chair. Sit over here," I heard my wife say. It was Mildred's parents, already here for the funeral. My funeral. "What a quaint custom," said Mildred's mother, the Duchess. "Is it a carryover from medieval times?" "No," said my wife. "It is just something we all want to do for him." "We almost feel he is still here with us," said Frances. She gave me a glance, and a smile. "And you are right," said the Duchess. "I can almost see him sitting there." She stared straight at me. Frances was confused for a moment. Then she realized that her mother-in-law was very quietly teasing her. "Of course you can," said Frances. "We all can, can't we?" "Well, I can't," said my wife. "But I do feel as though he is still with us. And I would hate someone to sit on him." "After this conversation, I'm sure he would think twice about sitting there," said Frances, addressing the remark to my chair. "Goodness, now they are talking to him," the Duchess thought behind a blank face. Strangely, I could hear the thought. "This is my seat, Duchess," I said to her. Frances heard and looked at the Duchess, who was startled, and looked around to see where the remark had come from. The ghost of the librarian was waiting near the graveyard when I arrived on the path. When the last people had gone through the gate, I saw, to my astonishment, a row of ghostly Earls of Sedgemont, going back all the way to the first Earl. "Where do the earls stay?" I asked. "In the old wing of the castle, my lord," the librarian said.
