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look.
    “Yes. I heard back from two. Stannisfield Films is picking us up for an episode of Digging Scotland with Dr. Iain Northcott—and you’d best be prepared for that one; they want to start digging by the end of the week so they don’t get snowed out.”
    “Digging?”
    “Didn’t Boomer tell you? There’s a legend of a burial on the property—a grave, murder victim from God knows when. The team came out a few weeks ago and did a scan with ground penetrating radar. They found a disturbance out in the east field that might corroborate a burial, so they’re coming to film an episode. I’ve already had my interview with Iain.” She primped her unnaturally red hair.
    “So they’ll be filming here?” Emmie felt a little faint. Professor McCall hadn’t mentioned anything about filming.
    “Yes, but it shouldn’t affect you at all. They won’t need you for the camera. The most you’ll have to do is help Lamb see them off each night, and make sure they’re not damaging the property at all. You probably won’t have anything to worry about there, though. They are archaeologists, after all.”
    Emmie nodded vaguely. “And the second network?”
    “Yes,” Lady Rotherham nodded. “Well… you see… how to say this? Perhaps I should be totally honest. Tullybrae is haunted.” When Emmie’s eyebrows shot up, Lady Rotherham explained. “It’s nothing to worry about. They’re nice ghosts. I grew up with them, and they’ve never done anything to me. One is the sixth Countess of Cranbury, who died in sixteen ninety-one. She won’t bother you much. The most you’ll catch is a glimpse of her, or perhaps a whiff of her perfume. Rose—you’ll smell it. And the second, we think, is the ghost of a little girl named Clara. She’s the only child’s death we have registered at Tullybrae. In seventeen eighty-three. Tuberculosis. She’s not harmful, but she likes to play. You may hear giggling, or things might fall off shelves. That kind of thing.”
    Emmie recalled the strange giggling she’d dreamed of last night, and shivered.
    “I hope I haven’t frightened you,” Lady Rotherham put in.
    She met the lady’s concerned gaze, and tried so smile. “No, not frightened, exactly. I can’t say I was expecting that, but I’m sure it will be fine. As long as nothing jumps out at me.”
    “Oh, no. Nothing like that. Anyway, BBC Two is coming out for an episode of Haunted Britain. That’s happening mid-September. You won’t need to be on camera for that, either, but they will be staying overnight at the house to shoot.”
    Emmie breathed, absorbing the news she’d just been blindsided with. “I think I can handle that.”
    “I’m sure you can,” Lady Rotherham agreed airily. “For now, I just need you to work on the items in the house. You’re free to come and go as you please. I’m not a stickler for in-office hours… or in-house hours, in this case. As long as you’re making progress, that’s all I care about.”
    “Understood.”
    Lady Rotherham gave Emmie an appraising look. “I have a feeling we’re going to get along famously.”
    She hoped the lady was right. Because after everything she’d just been told, Emmiewas wondering if she might be in over her head .

THE FIRST WEEK on the job was slow-going. Emmie began her first real day of work with enthusiasm. Perhaps also a touch of idealism. She was a soldier of history. Her mission: To return to the present those lives which had been lost to the past. She would be the voice that spoke for those who could no longer speak.
    Lamb must have anticipated her eagerness. When she came downstairs that morning, he had a full Scottish breakfast waiting for her. She ploughed through it, enjoying—truly enjoying , imagine!—the haggis and blood pudding, and washed the lot down with three cups of coffee. When she got up to help with the washing up, he wouldn’t hear of it.
    “You go on. You’ve a long day of… whatever it is you do, ahead of