The Heir of Thornfield Manor

by Ellie Thornton

  “Thank you.”

  Alice pointed first to Helen and then to Elizabeth. “Now, don’t work too hard. I’ll have dinner ready for you both in an hour.”

  Helen glanced at her watch. “It’s only four-thirty. We have at least two hours’ worth of work left to do.”

  Alice turned on them and sashayed away. “You’d best hurry, then.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, Elizabeth dragged her feet and roller suitcase over the ornate red runner carpet as she followed Alice down the long dark hall with only Alice’s Mag flashlight to illuminate the way. Not only had Helen worked her like crazy in the yard, but Alice prepared a huge meal with lots of carbs. The combination of the two just about put Elizabeth in a coma.

  She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand as Alice chatted away. The woman was so maternal that it was both amusing and comforting. At dinner, every time Elizabeth said she was finished, Alice insisted on giving her a little more. Elizabeth wasn’t used to such big meals. A typical day of food for her was coffee for breakfast, a salad for lunch, and some kind of instant something for dinner. And she hardly ever finished. She just didn’t have a big appetite. That said, she’d loved Alice’s cooking.

  Alice held a Mag flashlight even though the sun hadn’t set yet. The sun hung just above the tree line and created hues in pink, orange, and yellow in the surrounding clouds. While she still thought the house was creepy, she could see the appeal in the property.

  Of course, she hadn’t seen much of it yet.

  Aside from the kitchen, Elizabeth had really only seen the back stairway, which wound up all the way to the third floor. Her room was on the second floor. The hallway was wide and filled with landscape and portrait paintings. Not one of them was a painting of Katelyn.

  “Do the lights in the hall not work?”

  Alice swung the light back at her, making her shade her eyes. “Yes, they work, but it’s always good to have a flashlight on hand, just in case. The electricity in this house isn’t what it should be. I’ll leave this flashlight for you in case you need to come down in the night for snacks,” Alice said. She’d shown her a cabinet full of cereal, granola bars, cookies, candies, chips, protein shakes, and other such things before coming up.

  “How long have you worked here?”

  “Ten years.” Alice stopped at a door halfway down the hall. “I was hired by Alexander Daley when he purchased the house. He hasn’t been here in years. Not since …” She cleared her throat and reached for the handle on the door. “Well, never mind that. Here’s your room.”

  Alice pushed the door open and stepped back for Elizabeth to go first. Two steps past the threshold, she stopped to take it in. Painted in an eggshell white, the room felt large, despite the gigantic four-poster bed that sat in the middle of it. The white lace curtains that hung from each post were tied back, giving the dark wood it hung from a romantic feel. Behind the bed, a large window seat with three windows at a curve was adorned in white curtains with a gray flower print. A fireplace stood against the far wall with a stack of wood next to it. She couldn’t imagine using it in this heat.

  It was the kind of room every little girl fantasized of having. Also, the space was almost as big as her bedroom, her little brother’s room, and her living room in her apartment combined. “Wow.”

  “The room stays comfortable at night. Does it suit?”

  “It’s beautiful.” Staying in here for the next couple of weeks might almost be like a vacation. That was, if she didn’t have a murder to investigate. “I’m sure it’ll be very comfortable. Thank you.”

  Alice handed her the flashlight, wished her a good night, and produced another flashlight from her apron for herself before leaving the room.

  Elizabeth plopped down on the bed, then remembered she’d promised to call Luke. Last summer, when she’d been at Bristle Park, a themed regency resort, she’d sent her little brother to stay with close family friends back in Boston. He was seventeen now. It was summer, and he wanted a chance to stay by himself. She hadn’t been entirely comfortable with it, but she agreed, provided her other two brothers, Kyle and Jake, checked up on him.

  She sat up again and pulled her phone from her pocket when she caught sight of another flashlight on her bedside table. Man, did Alice take her flashlights seriously. She chuckled and dialed her brother.

  Chapter Three

  Mr. Daley didn’t show up that day or the next, or any day the next week, much to Helen’s irritation and Elizabeth’s bafflement. What was the point of the FBI sending her to the place if not to do her job? Not that she’d minded the labor they’d been doing here. She’d found she actually enjoyed gardening. Sure, it could be backbreaking at times, and she’d passed out every night since arriving, but it’d kept her mind off the 35th Precinct and what was happening in her absence.

  The work didn’t have the same effect on Helen—the woman was a machine, and Elizabeth sort of loved her for it.

  Elizabeth pushed a wheelbarrow filled with weeds around the back of the house to the side courtyard, making her way to the ever-growing pile of debris, and dumped the contents of the wheelbarrow into the stack. One of the three stable doors that had been converted into a garage opened. Helen backed out a four-wheeler with a trailer attached to the back and pulled up next to Elizabeth.

  “Do you know how to drive one of these?” Helen jumped off.

  Elizabeth nodded. Before her mom died, her dad used to take her and her brothers hunting. Four-wheelers were one of their favorite ways of getting around.

  “Great,” Helen said. “You know the path that leads to the cottage?”

  “Yes.”

  “If you keep following it, it’ll veer to the left and to the orchard along the front edge of the property. You’ll know you’re in the right place because there’s a green door in the wall about halfway back,” Helen said. “I trimmed the trees out there this morning, and I need you to pick up the branches. I hauled in most of them this morning. It shouldn’t take too long.”

  “Mr. Daley finally arrived, then?” Elizabeth asked.

  “No.” Helen pulled her gloves on and pursed her lips. “They needed trimming, so I did it without his go-ahead. They should’ve been done in April, May at the latest. If Mr. Daley has a problem, he can take it up with me.”

  Elizabeth grinned. “Yes, ma’am.” She saluted her and earned a little smile in return.

  * * *

  Catching sight of the arched doorway in the wall about forty yards away, Elizabeth looked for piles of debris left behind. She found three by the pink-blossom apple trees right next to the path she was on. Helen hadn’t been kidding. There wasn’t much left—one load, maybe two. Pulling up next to the piles, she grabbed the brown garden gloves from the back pocket of her jeans and tugged them on.

  As she loaded up the small trailer attached to the back of the four-wheeler, she gazed toward the wall. An oak tree grew there, creating a lovely lopsided dome of a canopy with its large blue-green leaves shimmering in the light breeze. Several of the massive branches reached to the wall, and one crossed over the top of it. Remembering what Agent Finley had said about the night Katelyn died, Elizabeth quickly finished loading the trailer and made her way to the tree.

  She’d talked to Finley about the cameras at the front gate the night she arrived, but the cameras had been down when Katelyn died—apparently an electrical storm had struck the camera the week before. The only camera up at the time of her death was the one by the door out here, outside the fence. That video showed nothing. But looking at the gate and even the oak tree, Elizabeth couldn’t help but wonder if there was another way in. Over that wall by way of the oak’s majestic branches, which appeared to be completely out of the camera’s sight.

  Getting closer, she noticed the gate was slightly ajar, and she opened it to look out to the street. An empty ice-blue coupe sports car was parked a few yards down. She took a step forward to get a better look and was yanked back. Her shirt had caught on a
nasty-looking sharp nail protruding out of the frame. It looked like someone had tried to bend it back; they hadn’t gotten far enough, apparently. She released her shirt, pulled the gate closed, then marched over to where the branch arched overhead to the wall.

  The wall was fifteen feet up, and the branch over the top appeared sturdy enough to hold the weight of a person. She followed the branch back toward the center of the tree and caught a glimpse of movement within.

  A man in a suit stood at least as high up as the wall amidst the branches. He leaned against the trunk of the tree, standing on the one that went over the wall. He had one hand in the pocket of his dark gray vest as the other held a book. Above the edge of the book, a mop of wavy blond hair fluttered in the breeze. She’d seen this man before. She was sure of it. His golden locks were unmistakable. He was the man who’d been entertaining the kids in town the day she’d arrived.

  “Hey!” she called out. “What are you doing—”

  The man jolted away from the trunk, arms flailing to either side.

  Crap! She ran toward the trunk of the tree, arms up.

  He moved back and forth on the limb, arms waving, as he tried to catch his balance.

  “Careful,” she called out.

  Their eyes met for a split second, and a rush of familiarity came over her. The feeling vanished the second he lost his balance. His foot, in brown dress shoes with zero traction, slid to the right and off the branch. He tossed his book and barely managed to grab a branch on his way down, but his grip slipped.

  “No, no, no!” She placed herself underneath him right as he fell. He landed on her like a sack of bricks. His arms wrapped around her as they hit the ground. The force of the impact winded her at the same time they smacked their heads together.

  They both groaned.

  She tried to suck in a breath, but he was solid and his full weight held her down and made her unable to breathe normally. They both panted, stunned from the fall and needing a moment to gather themselves.

  His body pressed against hers, from head to toe, was only awkward for about thirty seconds before he pushed himself up to look at her. Her head dropped back and smacked against the ground as he did. She hadn’t realized until then that his arm had gone under her head as they’d fallen. They locked gazes again.

  His stunned expression did nothing to impair his good looks. One of his barrel curls had fallen down over his brow. He stared at her and his mouth fell open a little, his blue-green gaze pinning her to the ground more effectively than his body weight atop her.

  In the blink of an eye, his expression went from stunned to furious. His brow drew together, his plump lips pulled into a tight line. “Are you insane?”

  She blinked, his angry tone zapping through to her psyche. “Am I insane?” She shoved against his chest. “Get off me.”

  He jumped up and pulled her to her feet in almost the same instant.

  It startled her, but not enough to stop her from her tirade. “You’re the one standing two stories up in a tree. You could’ve been killed.”

  Turning from her, he limped over to where his book lay facedown in the grass. “And you thought that yelling at me would what? Hurry up the process?”

  Okay, she could admit that yelling at him had been a bad idea. Yelling often happened in her line of work, and seeing him up there, doing something he shouldn’t, brought it out. She might as well have been yelling, “Stop, or I’ll shoot!” She cleared her throat.

  He glared at her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you would fall.” She went to him. “Let me help you.”

  “Get away, witch.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” He brushed his book off and closed it. “Why are you out here lurking about, anyway?”

  She huffed. “I wasn’t lurking about. I work here.”

  He glanced up from his book. “What’s your name?”

  “Elizabeth Shea. Helen Smith hired me. I’m staying at the manor.” She pointed at the tree. “What were you doing up there?”

  He lifted his book. “Reading.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “I mean, what are you doing here? This is private property.”

  He took a step closer to her, testing his right foot. “I know the owner.” He set his foot down and moaned. “Fantastic. I think I’ve sprained it.”

  She shook her head and marched over to him. “Is that your car parked out there?” She pointed toward the wall.

  “It is. Why? Are you thinking of slashing the tires? Really finishing me off?”

  She rolled her eyes, then grabbed his arm and slung it around her shoulder. “If slashed tires are all it takes to finish you off, then you, sir, have lived a very sheltered life.”

  “I don’t need your help,” he whined, but he made no move to get away.

  “You’re getting it.” Though at this point, she was tempted to let him go it alone, sprain or not. Boy, did this guy have a temper. “Put your weight on my shoulders.”

  Several slow, agonizing minutes later, they reached the gate.

  “How d’you get in here, anyway?” she asked. The gate had a lock on it.

  He lifted his key ring. “I told you, I know the owner.”

  “Watch out for the nail.” She pointed to it as they went through. Once through, they headed up the slope from the gate to the road. “Are there a lot of keys to this gate?”

  His grip tightened on her shoulder. “There are five. There should be one on your key ring.”

  “Hmmm.”

  “Hmmm?” he repeated.

  Several feet from the driver’s side door, she paused. “Is that a Porsche 911?”

  He stood a little taller, alleviating some of his weight on her shoulders. “You know your cars?”

  “I know that car,” she said. “It’s a classic. I mean, it’s not a Mustang, but dang!” Elizabeth’s favorite car was a Mustang, and of those, the 1968. She knew Mustangs like the back of her hand—other cars, not so much. Except for the Porsche 911. That was her dad’s favorite car. He’d owned one as a teenager and fixed it up, but sold it years later when she was born. He’d loved that car. Elizabeth had a picture of him and her mom standing with it the year they’d started dating. It was a classic photo. And this pale blue beauty was the spitting image of that one.

  The man cleared his throat.

  She glanced up to find him smirking down at her. She looked quickly away and started walking again, dragging him after her. “What year is it?”

  “1976.” He still had a grin tugging at his lips, and his eyes sparkled with mirth. “Thank you for being my knight in shining armor.”

  She pulled out from under his arm and took a step back. This man was trouble with a capital “T.” The last thing she needed in her life, especially right now, was trouble. She nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  At that, she turned around and marched back to the gate. Before pulling it shut behind her, she took a quick glance back at the man. He stood with his hands in his pockets, and with his gaze pinned on her. His smile widened when he caught her looking. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she ducked inside the gate, yanking it closed behind her. She fished in her pocket for her keys and found the one that locked the gate.

  Nope, she definitely didn’t need that man with his grumpy demeanor, sea-green eyes, and mischievous smirk anywhere near her. A tingle shot up her spine, and she ran for the four-wheeler.

  Chapter Four

  At the end of the workday, the sweat on Elizabeth’s body not only made her shirt stick to her, but had also created a lovely wet “V” on both her front and back. The heat here was brutal. Helen assured her that the worst of the work was over, and tomorrow they’d go back to a five-hour workday instead of the nine they’d had yesterday and today.

  They stood in the courtyard by the debris that was now stacked shoulder high to Elizabeth’s frame, admiring their handiwork. “That’s a lot of weeds.” Elizabeth glanced over at the tall woman beside her.


  Helen grinned. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. At the end of summer, we’ll have at least one of these pyres a week for a month.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes went wide. She sincerely hoped the case was solved before then. It wasn’t that she minded the hard labor, though she was sorer than she’d been since the police academy, but she didn’t want to spend all summer away from her brother. Besides, Lee, her partner, was supposed to be back from China any time now. He’d gone for a month for his grandfather’s funeral. It was one of the reasons she’d agreed to take this case. The 35th wasn’t nearly as fun without him.

  Helen giggled. “You look horrified.”

  Elizabeth shook her head and chuckled. “Maybe a little.”

  “Well, this should help.” Helen pulled a book of matches from her pocket and lit one with her thumbnail. It went up like fireworks on the Fourth of July.

  “Cool trick,” she said.

  Helen grinned.

  They both took a step back as the flames burned through the weeds.

  A moment later, Alice came out of the house with her hands full of treats. “I got the s’mores.”

  “Oh, great! Hang on.” Helen ran to the side of the stable house.

  “Where’s she going?” Elizabeth asked.

  Alice handed her three paper plates. “She’s getting our roasting sticks.”

  Helen reached the stables and grabbed three sticks leaning against the side of one of the open garage doors. Elizabeth hadn’t had s’mores since the last time her dad had taken her and her brothers hunting. She’d been fourteen. Which meant it was nearly thirteen years ago.

  A glint of something silver caught Elizabeth’s eye from one of the open stable doors on the far right. She glanced in and froze, her heart suspending for a beat. Inside the garage, now lit by the light of the bonfire, was an ice-blue Porsche 911.

  She pointed at it. “Is that …?”

  Alice smiled. “Patrick’s car. He got back an hour ago. He was in a bit of a mood too. Not that I can blame him, poor man. He twisted his ankle earlier today.”