Someone to Love

by Jude Deveraux

  Jace remembered that Mr. Hatch had said the girl was “cleaning toilets” so he guessed she was paying for most of her tuition herself. She had ambition and spunk; he admired that. “Wise decision. So where do you meet in the meantime?” When Jace saw Mick turn away nervously, he knew they’d been meeting in his house. And why not? It had been empty for years.

  “Mick,” Jace said, “and…?”

  “Gladys.”

  “Isn’t there an empty apartment, a flat, over Mrs. Browne’s kitchen? Would you two like to live there after you’re married?”

  Mick’s eyes widened in disbelief, but Gladys’s face turned pink with delight. “Oh, yes, sir,” she said. “And you wouldn’t be needing a secretary, would you?”

  “Gladys!” Mick said. “That’s askin’ too much.”

  “Actually,” Jace said, “I do need a secretary. Maybe you two could look at that office by—”

  “The laundry,” Gladys said. “Yes, sir, I know it well.”

  When they looked at each other, Jace knew that had been her plan all along. Yes, with her around, Mick would do well for himself. “Perhaps you could make a list of what I’d need to set up an office—computer, printer, all that—and give me a price list. And let me know your salary requirements. We’ll have everything in place for you to start by the time you graduate.”

  “Oh!” Mick said. “She can start before she graduates. She can work evenin’s, if that’s all right with you, sir.”

  “Perfectly all right. Now, Mick, you better stop digging a hole there or Mr. Hatch will have your hide, and, by the way, even I know you dig with a shovel, not a rake.”

  Gladys laughed but Mick turned red.

  He left them to continue his tour of the garden. He felt that he’d just made a couple of friends and had gained a secretary to take care of the bill paying and the…He wasn’t sure what else he needed a secretary for, but he knew he wanted people in the house. Not that their apartment was anywhere near the main house, even though it was connected by a long passageway, but he liked that they’d be nearby. Talk and laughter might keep him from missing his family so much.

  Standing at the end of the formal garden, just before the woodland park began, Jace looked back at the house. Yes, it was hideous, but now that he was really seeing the place, there were things to recommend it. To his American mind, it was odd having two kitchens, but his mother always said that there was no kitchen on earth big enough for two women. If a family lived in the house, Jace thought, it might be nice to have a place that was just for the husband and wife and the kids.

  Stacy would like this house, he thought. When she wasn’t working she could make pancakes for the kids on Sundays and—

  He stopped that thought. It seemed that Stacy had known the house, but she’d never mentioned it to him. And as for having children, that argument had started everything.

  He walked along a path in the woodland, which was acres of beautifully manicured trails shaded by fabulous old trees. He saw copper beech, sycamore, horse chestnut, as well as oak and elm. Most of the trees he didn’t recognize and figured they were exotics, specimens that didn’t usually grow in England.

  Someone has loved this place very much, he thought.

  He took a left at an intersection of pathways and came to a tall brick wall with an oak door. Opening it, he saw a beautiful vegetable garden. Neat rows of vegetables were surrounded by foot-high boxwood hedges. A long greenhouse stood at one end, and there seemed to be half an acre of cages that kept birds away from the berries planted inside.

  As Jace looked about, he saw the pretty girl Mrs. Browne had been chastising scurry from behind one tall bean tower to another. She was followed by another girl. They didn’t see him, so Jace stepped behind the end of the greenhouse and watched.

  One young girl was plump and pretty, the other skinny and plain, and they were sneaking toward the raspberry cage. They opened the door slowly so the hinges wouldn’t creak, then tiptoed inside. Since the garden was huge and enclosed by a tall brick wall, he wondered who they thought might hear them.

  Jace stayed hidden and watched them fill little tin buckets with ripe raspberries. There were row upon row of bushes, each one dripping fruit. He remembered Mrs. Browne’s complaints about the theft of the berries, but he or his employees couldn’t eat all of them, so why not let the girls have them?

  He opened the cage door, noting the oil glistening on the hinges, popped a raspberry in his mouth, and said, “They’re good, aren’t they?”

  The girls jumped at his voice, then the pretty one looked as though she was going to cry. The thin one put on an air of defiance. “We can pay for them,” she said, glaring at him.

  “Will you call the police on us?” the other girl asked.

  “You are…?”

  “Daisy, sir,” the pretty one said. “I helped put you to bed last night. I took off your shoes and socks even though Mr. Hatch said to leave you the way you were.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to the other girl. “And you are…?”

  “Erin.”

  “Do you both work for me?”

  “Yes, sir,” Daisy said. “We clean your house.”

  “And do whatever vile task Mrs. Browne can come up with for us to do,” Erin added, watching Jace to see his reaction to that statement.

  His instincts didn’t allow him to trust these girls as he had Mick and Gladys. He was afraid that they would tell Mrs. Browne whatever he said. “So what do you do with the raspberries?”

  The girls exchanged looks and seemed to decide to tell the truth. Daisy said, “Our mothers make raspberry tarts, then they sell them at the local shop.”

  “May I assume that you do the same with…” He looked around the garden at the other bushes and had no idea what they were.

  “Strawberries, blackberries, gooseberries,” Erin said.

  “And apples, quince, medlars, apricots, peaches, pears, and cherries,” Daisy said.

  “And mulberries,” Erin added. “My mum makes mulberry jam and they sell it at Harrods.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  Erin took a step forward. “But the only way we can turn a profit is if the fruit is free. No one’s lived here for years, so the fruit was going to waste.” She glanced at the cage. “Not even the birds could get to it.”

  “What does Mr. Hatch know of this?”

  “Everything. We couldn’t do it without him.”

  “And Mrs. Browne?”

  The girls again exchanged looks, but said nothing.

  “If she knew for sure, she’d fire you, right?”

  “Yes,” Erin said. “If she caught us here we’d be sacked in a moment.”

  “What if I told her she couldn’t fire you? I do own the place, you know.”

  The girls smiled. “Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but do you? Owners come and go, but Mr. Hatch and Mrs. Browne stay. They make the rules.”

  “I can see how that would happen.” He didn’t say so, but he knew that he, too, would be leaving soon. “Perhaps if I tell Mrs. Browne that you two have my permission to pick all the fruit you want—”

  “Oh, no, sir!” Daisy said. “She’d make our lives a living hell, and we can’t quit because our mums need the fruit, and we all need the money. There are six women, all with children, who work in the business. And no men. My father is ill and Erin’s ran away with the postman’s wife, so—”

  Erin gave her a look that cut her off. “She means, sir, that we have families to feed and while it’s kind of you to offer to help…”

  “It would be better if I kept my nose out of it.”

  “Exactly, sir,” Daisy said, dimpling prettily.

  Looking at her, Jace felt sure she’d be married and pregnant in another year. “All right,” he said, smiling. “I won’t—”

  “Crickey!” Erin grabbed Daisy’s arm and they crouched down in the bushes.

  Jace, not knowing what was going on, remained standing, then he saw that Mrs. Browne had just enter
ed the garden, a trug over her arm.

  “Will you give us away?” Daisy whispered, looking up at Jace with big blue eyes.

  He shook his head and took a step forward, but Erin grabbed his pant leg.

  “She’ll come in here and see us. Could you distract her so we can get out of here?”

  “Maybe take your shirt off,” Daisy said, then put her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggle.

  In spite of himself, Jace felt his face turning red. The girls were no more than eighteen and at his thirty-two, they made him feel like a lecher.

  “He’s blushing,” Erin whispered, then nudged Daisy and had to cover her own laugh.

  Mrs. Browne had picked some beans and was now heading straight for the raspberry cage. Jace had to distract her, but how?

  As he was thinking what to do, he saw an extraordinary sight. To the left, the nearly transparent form of a woman stepped through the brick wall. Mrs. Browne had just stooped to cut something from a plant and was bending over, so she didn’t see the figure.

  The woman stopped inches from Mrs. Browne, then reached out to take something from the wall. He couldn’t see what it was, but she cupped it in her hands. When Mrs. Browne stood up, the woman—the spirit—opened her hands in front of Mrs. Browne’s face and blew on them. For a split second, Jace saw what looked to be a spider go from the woman’s hands to Mrs. Browne’s face.

  The next moment Mrs. Browne was slapping at her face. She dropped her basket of vegetables and ran for the door, swatting at herself as she ran. Beside him, Daisy and Erin stood up and watched the show, laughing.

  But Jace’s eyes were on the woman who was standing by the wall and smiling. He could see through her. She had on a high-necked, long-sleeved white blouse; her slim waist was encircled by a wide belt above an ankle-length skirt and soft, lace-up boots. Her long, dark hair was tied back at the nape of her neck, forming a thick tail that hung down her back almost to her waist. Her face was in profile and he saw delicate features, a perfect nose, and long-lashed eyes. Through her, he could see the bricks of the wall.

  Daisy and Erin were laughing and doing a little jig, but Jace stayed frozen in place, not even blinking as he stared at the woman.

  Smiling, the spirit woman turned to look at Daisy and Erin, who didn’t seem to see her. When she saw Jace staring at her, her eyes opened wide in surprise, and for a moment their eyes locked. She was pretty in a quiet way, like someone in an old ad for shampoo or soap. Her eyes were dark blue and her mouth was small and perfectly shaped.

  When she realized that Jace could see her, she registered surprise, then for about three seconds, her body had more substance. She wasn’t solid by any means, but he could see more of her and less of the bricks. In the next second, she was gone. No poof of vanishing, just there, then not there.

  Jace stood still for a moment, not moving, before he realized that Daisy and Erin were staring at him.

  “You look like you saw the ghost, sir.”

  Reluctantly, he pulled his eyes away from the wall. “No, just recovering from ten pounds of breakfast. You better get your berries and get out of here before Mrs. Browne returns.”

  “Yes, sir, thank you, sir,” they said as they ran out of the fruit cage. At the door in the brick wall, Daisy stopped, smiled prettily, and said, “If you’re needin’ anything, let me know. Anything at all. A foot massage, maybe. Or a—” Erin grabbed her arm and pulled her through the door.

  “Make that six months before she’s pregnant,” Jace muttered.

  For a while, he stood inside the fruit cage and stared at the spot where the spirit of the woman had been. She had protected the two giggling girls who were raiding the raspberry patch, he thought. She had picked a spider off the wall and blown it into Mrs. Browne’s face so she would run away and not see the girls snitching raspberries.

  What amazed Jace was that neither the girls nor Mrs. Browne had seen something that had been so clear to him.

  “It’s you,” he heard to his right and turned to see Mrs. Browne opening the cage door. “I thought I saw someone in here.”

  “Yes, I confess. I was eating raspberries.” He looked again at the place the woman had appeared. “Did I see you dancing a moment ago?”

  “You might call it that. A spider fell off the wall and onto my face. I told Hatch what I thought of his gardening. He lets those boys of his slack off. They do no work.”

  “Not like your girls.”

  “I make them work, if that’s what you mean.” She was trying to get to the raspberries behind him, but Jace was firmly rooted to the spot. “You have that look on your face.”

  “And what look is that?”

  “The ghost look. Did you see her? Will you be puttin’ the house up for sale?”

  Jace made himself look at her. “Sell? And miss out on your breakfasts? How could I do that?”

  She gave her rusty little laugh. “You’re a smooth one, aren’t you, Mr. Montgomery? Why don’t you have a wife and children? Fill this house with young ’uns. That’s what it needs.”

  “Are you proposing?” he asked and she smiled.

  “Go on now, go find somethin’ to do and leave me to my work.”

  Jace went to the cage door, but turned back. “Mrs. Browne,” he said seriously, “about this ghost. Do people see her inside the house or out?”

  “Inside. I never heard anybody say they’d seen her outside. Ol’ Hatch would be scared to death of her if she showed herself out here.”

  “But didn’t you tell me that some people can see her and some can’t? Maybe she appears outside but no one has seen her—or can see her in the daylight.”

  Mrs. Browne squinted up at him. “Are you tryin’ to tell me that you saw Lady Grace outside the house? Maybe here in this garden?”

  Jace grinned. “I’m trying to use you as a research tool. If I’m going to be writing a book about Lady Grace, I need to find out all I can about her, don’t I?”

  “Write a book about a woman that won’t leave the earth? Well…” she said, “if that’s what you want to do, but I have better things to do with my time.”

  “So no one has seen her outside?”

  “Not to my knowledge and I know—”

  “All there is to know,” Jace said with a sigh. She might know things, but it was difficult to get information out of her. He dreaded trying to find out about Stacy from her. If Stacy had met someone here and Mrs. Browne knew of it, he was more likely to get a morals lecture than information.

  “I think I’ll take a run,” he said. “Work off some breakfast in preparation for lunch.”

  “It’s Jamie’s roast chicken,” she said. “With rosemary.”

  Smiling, Jace started jogging backward. When he reached the spot in the wall where the ghost had stepped through, he pretended to have a pain in his ankle. Mrs. Browne was watching him intently. As he rubbed his ankle, then stood up, he felt the wall. It was solid and old. There was no doorway there and he didn’t think there ever had been.

  3

  Jace jogged around the parkland for over an hour. He often stopped to look at places. When a piece of land had been occupied for nearly nine hundred years, the people left their marks behind. He came across four sheds, all of them locked, and the ruins of two more. He found a pretty stone shelter with a dome top and a marble floor that was beginning to crumble. To get to it he’d had to fight through rampant vines and run out a family of small, furry creatures that moved too fast for him to see what they were. There were stone half circles next to what he’d been told was a dry riverbed. The monks had kept fish in the stone-lined ponds.

  When he got back to the house, he just had time to shower before lunch. He ate in Mrs. Browne’s kitchen and was subjected to a long complaint about the raspberry bushes having been denuded. She questioned Jace closely about who he’d seen. He lied smoothly. Of course to tell her the truth would have been worse than lying. Tell her that the ghost blew a spider on her? Not quite.

  After lunch, which w
as delicious, he went upstairs and called Nigel Smith-Thompson, the estate agent, and asked questions. What Jace wanted to know was whether or not the previous owner had lent the house to anyone in the three years it was last for sale. Who had stayed there? The agent said no one had been there. The owner and his family walked out of the house in the middle of the night and returned to their native country, never to visit the house again.

  “Are you sure he didn’t lend the house to anyone?” Jace persisted.

  “I can call him and ask,” the agent said, but he obviously didn’t want to.

  “Please do,” Jace said, then gave the agent his cell number. “I want to know who had permission to stay here.”

  “I can answer that one. Only the housekeeper was allowed to stay. The gardener lives in the small house at the south end of the property.”

  “But perhaps the owner had a friend who used the house.”

  “The previous owner left the care of the house to us and I can assure you that we allowed no one to use it.” His voice was becoming strained, as though Jace were accusing him of something bad. “I think, Mr. Montgomery, that you should talk to Mrs. Browne. If anyone who wasn’t supposed to stay there did, then Mrs. Browne knows about it.”

  “I’ll talk to her,” Jace said, sighing because he knew he’d get no information out of the woman. “But you will call the owner right away and ask?”

  “Yes,” the agent said tiredly. “I’ll call.”

  Jace thanked him, then hung up and dressed to go out. On his way out he stopped by the kitchen and asked Mrs. Browne if anyone had stayed in the house while it was empty. As he knew she would, she took offense and told him that no one had stayed there. He left in the middle of her lecture and went in search of his car. Outside, hidden behind a turn of the house, was a three-car garage, which he’d somehow missed seeing before.

  It took him a while to find his keys in a little box hung on the wall. When he opened his car he saw that dirt had been vacuumed off the floormat and on the passenger seat was a file folder. Inside was a neatly typed piece of paper listing supplies and computer and other equipment needed to set up an office. Jace smiled when he saw that the items came from four different sources. “I tried to get the best prices,” Gladys had written at the bottom. “I could buy it all on Monday and start work on Tuesday at two. I have classes until one.”