Jane Austen Made Me Do It by Laurel Ann Nattress

outside stimulus. She wasn’t willing to rule out the possibility that such things existed, but if they did, they were out of
Ghost Trekkers
’ purview. Even Lenny couldn’t pull that off.
    But if this wasn’t a prank … No. That didn’t even bear considering.
    An unidentified female ghost who haunts one of the bedrooms
, Erin had said.
Associated with a roll of paper that reappears and disappears in a lacquered chest
.
    â€œWho are you?” asked Cate hoarsely.
    â€œThis is all highly irregular,” the apparition said critically.
    â€œI couldn’t agree more.” Speaking with people who weren’t there definitely came under Cate’s definition of irregular. “Are you …?”
    She couldn’t make herself say the word “dead.”
    â€œA guest,” supplied the apparition.
    Guest … ghost … It was just a twist of the tongue away. Cate swallowed a spurt of hysterical laughter.
    This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. She worked on
Ghost Trekkers
, for the love of God. She, of all people, knew that such things were purely the product of smoke and lenses.
    She hadn’t even eaten the herrings. She had known better than that. Herrings were worse than bits of underdone potato when it came to conjuring specters.
    â€œAnd you?” The ghost was looking at her keenly. “Are you a guest of General Tilney?”
    â€œIn a manner of speaking,” hedged Cate.
    If this was a dream, why conjure up an inquisitive female? Why not a strapping male in knee breeches? Or a Roman centurion in one of those cute little leather kilts? Her imagination clearly needed help.
    â€œWho are those uncouth people in the hall?” asked the apparition, settling in for a good gossip. Her see-through skirts lapped around her ankles.
    â€œUm, they’re … I work with them. We’re on a—”
TV show
really didn’t seem like something her transparent visitor would understand. Cate hastily cobbled together the closest possible translation. “We’re a sort of acting troupe.”
    â€œTheatricals.” The apparition’s face lit with interest. “Shall you perform for us?”
    â€œEr,” said Cate. “I think it’s more that they’d hoped you’d perform for us.”
    Not that Fred would know what to do with a real ghost if he tripped over one.
    Wait. When had she decided this was a real ghost? “Just ignore them,” she said hastily. “If they come after you, pretend they’re not there. Even if they make beeping noises.”
    â€œBeeping noises?”
    â€œIt’s the most ramshackle operation,” Cate said. “I mean, I don’t know what I’m still doing here. I really only meant to stay for a few months, just for the experience—and, oh, hell, so I had sort of a crush on Hal, but the man is never going to do anything, about me or anything else. He’s under his brother’s thumb like you wouldn’t believe. He’d probably have to ask Fred’s permission before getting up the nerve to make a move.”
    â€œLike that, is it?” said the ghost sympathetically. “Is this Hal the younger brother?”
    â€œYes. Fred’s older. He’s the one who owns the whole kit and caboodle.”
    The ghost nodded sagely. Cate’s slang might have been lost on her, but the general concept was one she understood.
    â€œNothing’s going to change while Fred’s in charge,” Cate said glumly. There was something oddly soothing about speaking with someone who wasn’t there. “Hal will never have the guts to do anything about it. It’s a complete dead end.” She looked at the ghost—or, rather, through the ghost—and clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, crap! I’m sorry. I mean, it’s not going anywhere. Just forget I said ‘dead,’