Suddenly it came to me that I had better not push my inquiries further. “We heard a lot of music, but we thought it was you playing, madam.” “But surely you heard the piano being played?” “There have been no callers to-day, madam.” Then I rang the bell, and when the butler entered the following dialogue took place: I went to the window which commanded the avenue not a soul was in sight. Piano, which had not been opened for several weeks, was open now. I rose at once, and went downstairs feeling very cross. At last, after quite twenty minutes, the music suddenly stopped it broke off in the middle of a movement. “Very wonderful music, but soulless,” I concluded, and though my curiosity was growing every moment my obstinacy prevailed, and I remained where I was. The music steadily continued, every note borne to my ears as clearly as if I had been in the room with the performer. I began to feel obstinate, and determined to remain where I was, until I was correctly informed of the caller’s identity. Still there were no signs of the ascending butler, and time continued to pass. “Evidently a professional,” I thought, and wondered all the more who it could possibly be. The player was, however, a most brilliant performer, who had acquired considerable skill. I did not recognize the music, but it sounded quite modern, and requiring a great amount of technique. Meanwhile I listened to the music, and wondered greatly who the brilliant pianist could be. I lay waiting for the butler to come to me and inform me why my orders had been disobeyed.
I was not well enough to entertain callers at tea, due in half an hour, and I had given orders that I would see no one, but it had happened before that the musical neighbors had called, and whilst waiting for me had sat down to the piano. This, in itself, caused me irritation, but no surprise.
Some one was playing my piano in the drawing-room below. Out of the absolute quiet suddenly came the sound of music.
My husband was from home, and I was alone in that particular part of the house, the servants’ quarters being at the back, and shut off from the rest. The house we inhabited was quite isolated in its own park, and the village was about half a mile distant. The room immediately beneath me was the drawing-room, and the weather being hot all the windows were wide open. I had been ill, and was not yet strong enough to lead an ordinary life, and I was lying on a sofa in a top floor room. I was resting one afternoon in the summer-time. In Chapter VIII, “Some Strange Events”, she writes:Īfter my marriage my husband and I passed some time in the United States and Canada we then returned to England and took a place in Cambridgeshire. In 1919 she published a book called Ghosts I Have Seen and Other Psychic Experiences. Violet Tweedale (1862 – 19th December 1936), was a Scottish author, poet, and spiritualist who lived in Milton Hall with her husband Clarens some time around 1900.
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