by Kirsty Ferry
Elodie made the decision for them. She slipped out from under his arm and stood up; walked over to Cassie, knelt down beside her. Then she pulled his sister towards her, so Cassie’s face was buried in Elodie’s shoulder and she smoothed Cassie’s hair down and held her closely.
‘Shhh, it’s okay.’
And Alex knew that his job was to look into that damned hole and discover whatever was in there. He stood up very carefully and let the world stop spinning for a moment; then he lurched over to the hole and knelt down beside it.
Even as he prepared to look down, he hoped it would be some sort of buried treasure – the un-inventoried family jewels or a swag-bag of goodies left by a gentleman thief who rode the woods by moonlight.
But of course, it was neither.
His heart thumped when he saw it. The fact that the oak tree roots were apparently buried in Hell came quite close to reality at that moment.
He sensed Elodie watching him and he turned, walking away from the hole to join her. He sat down quietly, and his hand found hers. They entwined fingers silently. He didn’t really know what to do. Hartsford had thrown yet another massive curve ball at him, and this was perhaps worse than finding the empty tomb. Although not, perhaps, entirely unexpected.
Still, at least the only thing that was there to witness his indecision was the fleshless, white skull in the hole.
Elodie looked across at the abandoned shovel and felt the reassuring pressure of Alex’s fingers on hers. Part of her wanted to stay well away from the hole, but another part seemed to be impelling her towards it.
‘I suspect I need to call the police.’ Alex’s voice was flat and broke into her thoughts. ‘I’m sure that’s what you’re supposed to do when you find a body, no matter what state it’s in. However old it is.’
Elodie felt sick, but she found herself agreeing with him. ‘Yes. I think you’re right. Can I just – if it’s okay – go and have a look?’
Alex nodded and smiled wryly. ‘You didn’t want to see her in the church.’
‘I know. I’m not entirely sure I do want to look at her. But I’ll see if I can do it.’ She eased her fingers out of his and stood up shakily. She took a couple of steps towards the hole, then stopped and looked over her shoulder.
Deep in the woods, she heard something – a desperate whinny, as if a horse was in distress. Hughie had never sounded like that, at all, even when he had been almost laughing at her in the past; and she was fairly sure it wasn’t Hughie now. The sound came again and she spun around to see if Alex had registered it. Had there been any inkling of a horse in trouble, she knew he would have been up on his feet trying to locate it; but he hadn’t flickered, hadn’t moved. He only shuffled closer to Cassie, and put his arm around her.
The sound came again, and she knew, somehow, the whinny was another shadow, another emotion intertwined with the story they were being told. Another memory.
Elodie turned away from the grave and hurried a little towards the noise, until she had left the clearing completely. There was a thud, something like a hoof pawing the ground, then silence crept in around her and Georgiana’s memories flooded her mind …
‘I’d like to make a gift of this to you,’ said Ben. Dark stubble was dusted across his cheeks and his chin and he seemed on edge. ‘I painted it from memory. I hope you find it acceptable.’
‘Acceptable? It’s beautiful! But I’ve never looked like that.’ Georgiana held the portrait, angling it into the puddle of lamplight, and stared into her own eyes – or at least the eyes that Ben had seen in her.
‘Yes, you have. You’ve always looked like that to me.’ He reached over and touched the red ribbon in the portrait-girl’s hair, then, surprisingly, moved his hand to the lantern and doused the light. Georgiana gasped slightly and blinked to accustom her eyes to the moonlight. ‘Always. From the very moment I met you. I even painted your ribbon. I still have the other half. Right here.’ He moved his hand to the back of his neck and she followed the movement. ‘And I have the rest of you here.’ He curled his hand into a fist and touched his chest, right where his heart was beating, strong and sure beneath the white shirt and the dark coat. ‘I don’t know how much longer we have left together, but it isn’t long enough.’ A look, which might have been fear, crossed his face and suddenly her own heart was seized with a crushing dread.
Her stomach lurched. ‘I don’t understand,’ she whispered. ‘Where are you going? Why are you leaving me? I thought you said you’d soon have enough money to…’ Her voice rose in panic and she clutched the painting to her own chest. ‘Where are you going?’
‘I don’t want to leave you, but it’s not my choice. If I go now, we might have a chance.’ He shot a glance behind him and she strained her eyes towards the shadows in the woods. She could hear the regular hoof beats of a harras of horses, the shouts of men carrying through the night – her father’s the loudest voice among them. She understood with a sickening jolt why Ben had plunged them into darkness.
‘Where is he? The villain! The thief! Murderer!’
‘Murderer?’ Georgiana looked at Ben. ‘What does he mean?’
‘He’s trying to blame me for Jasper’s death …’
‘Jasper? But it was a brawl. A brawl over a hand of cards in an inn, with a stranger! I saw his body! He was beaten and stabbed!’
‘I know. But the Earl has nothing else he can accuse me of. Except my loving you.’ The pain in his eyes was indescribable. ‘Please, take this too. Use it if you have to. It’s my turn to try and protect you. And I’m no angel, so my kisses are sadly lacking in Godly protection.’
He produced a pistol – Georgiana recognised it as Jasper’s duelling pistol; the one that had been missing from his body when she found him on the steps that awful, awful morning. ‘Ben! Where did you get this? You were there!’
‘I don’t deny it. I was in the Green Dragon the night he died. He was defending your honour, my love. I saw it all. I took this afterwards. Nobody else was entitled to it and believe me, those men have now paid the ultimate price for what they did to him. I made sure of it.’ His handsome face hardened for a second. ‘I know your brother would want you to have it and want you to use it if you have to. Do not hesitate to protect yourself. Do you understand?’
He looked so earnest that all Georgiana could do was nod. ‘I will – but I still don’t see why—’
She stared at the pistol as he wrapped her fingers around it and pressed them to his lips. ‘I have to go, because if I don’t and they find me here …’ He didn’t need to continue. She understood perfectly.
Hurriedly, she pushed the rolled-up portrait into the cleft of two branches of a nearby shrub and closed the gap between her and Ben. She wrapped her arms around him to give him a quick embrace. ‘Go now, Ben. Go!’ She pulled back and looked up at him. She couldn’t stop her tears and he kissed them away. ‘Send for me,’ she told him, her words tumbling out. ‘I’ll have some things packed and I’ll come and find you. You never have to come here again.’
‘Georgiana.’ He pulled her back in towards him. ‘I’ll come back for you if I can – I promise.’ He threw another quick glance over his shoulder. The shadows were moving towards them, a seething mass of blackness and shouting and steaming breath. ‘Until we meet again.’ He pressed his lips against hers, hard and passionate, the things he didn’t have time to tell her clear in the kiss. ‘I love you Georgiana. Wait for me.’
‘I promise. I’ll wait for you by moonlight, as always.’
He ran towards his horse. Blaze was whinnying and rearing, trying to tell him they had to leave. One swift movement saw him in the saddle and with a sharp dig of his heels into the horse’s flank, he disappeared into the night.
The group of men, led by Georgiana’s father, filled the horizon, cresting the little hill. They yelled something and, as one, steered the animals to the left, following Ben.
Georgiana ran towards them all screaming, then she stopped short and turned away, running ba
ck towards the Hall, her fingers pressing against her mouth – the mouth he had so recently kissed, the mouth that was still bruised from his. She clutched the pistol in her hand, not liking the feel of it, but knowing why he had given her it. She had to do some packing so she was ready, just in case …
Elodie stood in the dawn-lit woods and realised it was silent apart from the birds waking up and the leaves rustling in the trees. There was no horse, no Blaze – and definitely no Hughie. She wrapped her arms around herself and turned a full circle. She was pleased she knew who had painted the portrait of Georgiana, but the romance of that was secondary to the danger Ben had been in that day.
She realised she was facing the clearing – and suddenly desperately wanted to go back to Alex and make sure he was safe. It was a silly notion, perhaps; but she rushed back to him as fast as she dared.
She decided she wouldn’t look at the skeleton after all.
Office hours couldn’t come quickly enough that morning. They sat in the kitchen at the Hall watching the hands on the clock move slowly forwards and held cups of coffee that went cold before they managed to drink them.
Elodie had glossed over the most recent memories, whispering the story to Alex well away from Cassie; and Alex had nodded, understanding, then turned his attention to the discovery in the woods and she knew he was trying not to speculate on what had put the skeleton there. They both knew how much danger Ben and Georgiana had been in that night, and neither Alex nor Elodie wanted to take the story to its potential conclusion.
Alex had closed the Hall to tourists for the day. They didn’t want visitors around; it was nothing that anyone else should witness. All the volunteers had been told the truth of course, just in case they worried when they saw the police vans and forensics people turn up.
The Home Office Pathologist didn’t take long to come, and once he was there the investigation team worked diligently to get all the evidence they could. They eventually called at the house and asked if anybody would like to join them at the oak tree to discuss the initial findings. They were satisfied it was an old burial and thus didn’t think they would be interfering with a new murder investigation.
‘I’ll go.’ The graze on Alex’s temple was still looking a bit raw, and there were some nasty bruises down the side of his face too, where Cassie must have caught him as he ducked out of the way. Elodie wanted him to go and get it checked out at the hospital, but he refused, saying that so long as he was walking, talking and making sense he thought he’d pretty much be okay. There was though, an open packet of painkillers next to his coffee cup and his mobile phone was lined up next to them, in case the forensic people called from the woods and needed anything urgently.
And, of course, every time Cassie saw him, she burst out crying and kept trying to apologise.
‘Call it quits for the broken arm,’ he had told her. Which just made her cry all the more.
Cassie had said straight away that she didn’t want to go and look at the grave. If the skeleton was Georgiana, she wanted to remember her as the girl sculpted in marble; the girl who might be in that painting from the attic. The girl who Elodie quietly knew was indeed in that painting from the attic.
Alex stood up to leave the room with the Detectives, or whoever they were, and smiled down at Elodie. ‘It’s okay. You don’t have to come either. We’ll get it sorted. If it’s Georgiana, we’ll get her back to where she needs to be.’
He was halfway out of the room when Elodie slid off the high stool at the breakfast bar and went after him. ‘I’ll come if you want me to. Don’t feel you have to deal with this yourself.’
He smiled down at her, then ran his hand through his dark, messy hair. ‘No. You stay here. I think Cassie would appreciate the company.’
Elodie looked across at Cassie who was certainly looking pretty miserable, then turned back to speak to Alex; but he had gone, closing the door quietly behind him.
‘Well now.’ Elodie didn’t really expect Cassie to answer, but she did look at her, Cassie’s eyes puddling with fresh tears.
‘I honestly don’t know what made me do it,’ Cassie said. ‘One minute I was in my room, and the next I wake up and I’m sitting by the oak tree. And Alex’s got blood on his face and you’re looking like death warmed up.’
‘Remind me to never wear this dress again,’ Elodie said ruefully, looking down at it. ‘Alex said I looked like a ghost. You think I looked like death warmed up. It’s better with a suntan, I promise. And maybe with no bloodstains on it.’
‘It’s not just that dress.’ Cassie laid her forehead on the table and banged it gently once, twice, three times off the surface. The coffee cups wobbled a little. ‘I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.’
‘What for? For saying I look pale and recently deceased?’
‘No!’ she said, talking into the table. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. What I really meant was, I’m sorry because I found the grave. If I hadn’t started digging, then I wouldn’t have hit Alex and you wouldn’t have been forced to come after me. In your dress.’
‘It’s not your fault, Cass. Look.’ Elodie bent forward and rested her own forehead on the table next to Cassie’s, then turned a little so she was facing her. Slowly, Cassie mirrored her movement and stared at Elodie. ‘It wasn’t you out there. It didn’t sound like you when you spoke and it certainly didn’t look like you. Nobody blames you.’
Cassie nodded miserably. It must have been awkward to nod with one’s head on the table, but she managed it, somehow.
‘I know you’ll understand me when I say this. Not everyone would. But you – you’ll understand.’ Cassie took a deep breath and sat up. It was Elodie’s turn to mirror her and she sat up with her. ‘I think someone took me there. I don’t sleepwalk and I just felt – different. I know this place is haunted. I’ve seen the children in the nursery and I’ve seen – other stuff – myself. Not so much now, but when I was younger. I just think it was one of them.’ She frowned. ‘Sorry. I’m stupid.’
‘No! No, I don’t think you are. This place hangs onto all sorts of energy. If it’s any consolation, I think the same.’ Elodie looked down at her hands. ‘Someone was determined that you would find that grave and they led you to it.’
‘Am I susceptible then?’ asked Cassie. ‘Do you think that’s why they chose me?’
‘Maybe. If you’ve seen the ghosts, they’d know they had a way in. Not everyone can see the children in the nursery, you know. Maybe you just need to know how to control it a little more; how to fight them off if they do try to push you too far.’
Cassie smiled. ‘I knew you’d understand. I’m so pleased that you don’t think I’m a horrible person. I don’t tell anyone about what I see or hear – sometimes it’s just odd words I pick up from nowhere. Or I see a flash of a dead person.’ She shivered and fell silent for a moment or two. Then she nodded at Elodie. ‘It’s the same for you, isn’t it? But this time it was weird, it was all strange memories, flashes of sitting in the hallway. I was terrified and guilty and suddenly I was there, showing you that.’
‘I totally get it,’ murmured Elodie. ‘It comes with living here, I think. You can’t really help it.’
‘Hartsford talks to you, doesn’t it? It likes to show you its secrets.’
Elodie didn’t think Cassie expected an answer, but she nodded anyway.
Chapter Twenty
Alex knew he’d always hated that oak tree. The labourer who had spun those yarns had consolidated that view, but maybe the genetic memory theories had something to recommend them after all.
The forensics team had been cleaning the soil away all morning, and the chap who was in charge, Dave, was actually very jolly – he said he thought he had identified the cause of death and if Alex liked, he could go through some basics with him.
Alex didn’t know if he ‘liked’. It was hardly a Facebook status (‘found ancient skeletal body in my garden today – huzzah!’) but Dave knew Alex wanted to know anything he could tell him about it,
so Alex nodded and agreed. Dave ushered him to the edge of the hole and they both stared in.
‘Can you see here, the way the ribcage is shattered?’ Dave began. Alex’s stomach was churning, but he forced himself to look properly. Georgiana – if this was Georgiana – was tiny. In life, she couldn’t have been more than five feet tall. In death, she looked pathetic.
He could see, however, what Dave meant. The rib cage had a big hole in it, just near the breastbone. Fragments of bone were lying inside what would have been her chest cavity and Alex could see a vile-looking nick on her backbone as well. In fact, there was a crack right through the spine and a pile of what might have been destroyed vertebrae. Next to the spine lay a small, round object.
‘That’s the bullet,’ said Dave. ‘Sometimes these things go right through. This one didn’t. It’s shattered the vertebrae and broken the spine. If the gunshot didn’t manage to kill her, she wouldn’t have been going for many walks in the future.’ He laughed, but Alex scowled. It wasn’t a laughing matter.
Alex fixed Dave with a glare. ‘So you’re sure it’s a woman.’ His voice sounded weirdly distant.
‘Certain.’ Dave pointed at the lower part of the skeleton. ‘No doubt she’s a woman. The shape of the pelvis tells us that. Looks like she gave birth at least once and her teeth are awful. Sugary diets and poor dental hygiene were a curse at that time for the wealthy. Wisdom teeth were through, though. She’s beyond her twenties. I’d guess early forties? We won’t know any more until we get her back to the lab.’ He turned and grinned at him. ‘We’ll do some carbon dating, see if that tells us when she was buried. The boys are onto the forensic geology over there—’ Dave nodded across at a group of white-clad people – three of whom Alex was fairly certain were women rather than boys, ‘and then we’ll be able to tell you more. And see, there’s still cloth on some of the bones too. We can date that if it’s preserved well enough. I think you’ve got a bit of history here, lad. Anything we should know to give us a clue?’ He looked at Alex, cheerful as a robin with the same little black, all-seeing eyes. ‘Any family secrets? Skeletons in the closet? That kind of thing?’ Dave laughed at his own joke.