The Everdon Series- the Complete Set

by L C Kincaide

  “It would be my pleasure.” He said with a smile.

  They climbed the stairs and Emma bit her lip as they entered the connecting corridor and turned into the gallery.

  “In our house, this is the portrait gallery. All the ancestors are displayed from the eldest to the youngest starting at the end.”

  “Oh, I wish I’d known.”

  “Actually, I like your arrangement better.” She didn’t add it’s less creepy.

  The electric sconces made a huge difference in illuminating the long hallway, yet a coldness took her. There is nothing here. Nothing bad happened here. It was becoming her mantra for the day. She rubbed her arm absently.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. Fine. Just memories from another hallway.”

  “Your manor must hold many of those for you, powerful ones to affect you here.”

  “Yes, I suppose so.”

  “You seem quite sensitive to your surroundings.” He said.

  You have no idea.

  “If you’d like to turn around…”

  “No, I’m fine. Really. Let’s go on.”

  He turned the corner to a corridor Emma had never seen. It was the same length as the one in the south wing, with a rosette-patterned stained glass window at the end. Nothing remarkable stood out, except she had finally seen how the manor would have looked had that crazy Ruskin not tried to burn it down.

  “We seldom have guests staying here, though it would be brilliant to have a completely full house.”

  “Yes, that would be awesome. So, all the rooms here are empty?”

  “Except for mine.” He pointed to a door.

  “How long have you lived here?”

  “Just over two years. I moved in after the divorce. It made sense. The manor needed someone full-time, and I needed a place to stay, though quite honestly,” he leaned closer, “no one had to twist my arm.”

  “I didn’t think so.” She returned his smile and turned back to where they came. “Thank you for showing me all this. It’s been — brilliant.” She tried the word. “I better get going. I’m sure you have things to do.”

  Where to? Going somewhere, though returning to London to sightsee with mum was out of the question. She could wait until Wednesday for that bit of fun.

  “Why don’t you stay?” He suggested.

  Emma’s eyes widened, wondering if she heard right. “Stay?”

  He wasn’t sure how those words came out, but since they had, he rather liked the idea. “Yes. If you’re not expected back, stay here as our guest. Experience Everdon Manor like no other member of your family has in generations.”

  The temptation was undeniable.

  “It is a hotel, after all. Perfectly above board, I assure you.”

  “Yes, of course it is. It just hadn’t occurred to me.”

  “If there is anything you need, the town is a short drive away and we stock the essentials.”

  “You make a compelling argument, Adam.”

  “Then Miss Emma, is that a yes?”

  Emma considered her options — take a train to London tonight and sightsee on her own and stew over John the rest of the time, or experience something new and distract herself for a while with a charming and gorgeous Englishman.

  “All right. You’ve talked me into it.”

  “Brilliant!” He smiled. “Why don’t you take some time for yourself and we can meet downstairs at seven?”

  “Is it all right if I wander around on my own?”

  “Absolutely. If anyone can, it is you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll see you later then.”

  “I’ll look forward to it. And you know the way?” He asked jokingly.

  She laughed. “I think I can manage.”

  She watched as he descended the stairs wondering what to make of him, the classic tall, dark and handsome of the English variety. He was friendly and in not the least intrusive. And she was about to spend the night under the same roof with him. Along with other strangers. She shook her head at the nonsense she sometimes came up with. Yes, he seemed like a nice guy and he probably had a girlfriend. They all did. And it was nothing to her. In fact, she hoped he was involved with someone.

  Until a few hours ago, she believed she had something special with a certain someone. What the hell happened with that? Whatever. She was in a different time zone in her family’s ancestral mansion and a gorgeous and pleasant man was being a considerate, attentive host. It didn’t bother her to admit to feeling somewhat needy after the aloofness she’d received from some people. Anger served her better than self-pity and even the creepiness that had her in its grip just minutes ago was gone.

  She strode to her room and moved the laptop to the writing desk and checked the clock on the mantel. Already one o’clock in the morning in Japan. Screw it. Other matters occupied her mind like what she was going to wear to dinner. She dug out her pretty chiffon dress that was a mass of wrinkles. Damn! It hadn’t occurred to her she’d ever have a reason to put it on again and hunted for a hanger to take to the bathroom. Steam would help with that.

  Returning to her bed, she sat down heavily and pulled out the phone vibrating with ignored messages.

  What the hell? Might as well deal with it. It would be that much less hanging over her at dinner.

  She listened to the first message — Rachel’s upbeat voice hoping she was having a fab time brought a smile. The second message made her heart lurch.

  “Emma. I’m sorry. Please call. We need to talk. I wanted to tell you…” She cut it off and deleted it. More texts alluded to the same thing. So, it was true. He had been planning on leaving and telling her at the last minute. Great! Just great! Brilliant even!

  She took a deep breath and called Rachel.

  “So, how was the wedding?”

  “It was nice, romantic. They had a dozen flower girls and boys all dressed in white with blush bow ties and hair ribbons.”

  “And were you drop-dead-gorgeous in your dress?”

  Emma laughed. Thank God for Rachel. “It depends on who you ask. Mum hated it, but compared to what the other women had on — jeepers — here I thought I was in one of the world’s fashion capitals and the women are wearing either funky prints from the sixties or bedroom curtains. And those silly little hats — what are they called — yeah, fascinators? I swear I saw one looking like a dead bird on a plate. Gross!” Emma rushed on to describe the food, the Hyde-Smythe mansion with the low ceilings and the reception.

  “Wow, what an adventure!”

  “And that’s not all! You’ll never guess where I am now!” She continued with almost maniacal cheer.

  “In that case, you’d better tell me.” Rachel said trying to keep the worry from her voice. Something was wrong. She just knew it.

  “I’m at Everdon Manor. Yep, in my old room and you know what? It’s gorgeous, not the dump we have. I’m so jealous, you can’t imagine. If Adam saw it I’d die of embarrassment!”

  “Adam? Who’s that?”

  “Oh, he’s the general manager and architect who restored and keeps up the place. They host weddings and other events. I met him at the reception and he invited me to come and see for myself, so I figured, why not?”

  “It sounds like a great opportunity. So, what’s wrong?”

  The lump that had been growing in Emma’s throat heaved and burst in a toxic bubble sending forth a gush of tears. “I had a fight with John.”

  Rachel sat up as much as she could at the news. Matthew gave her a look.

  “A fight? What about?”

  “I overheard Frances telling mum he was leaving for Japan for six months almost as soon as he gets back.” She sucked in air. “He never said a thing to me! Not a word! Kept saying how we’re going to do things together
and never let on.”

  “Maybe she was just trying to impress Elinor. You know they’ve always been rivals.”

  “I thought of that, but when I confronted him, he didn’t deny it. He even said he planned on telling me at some point, I guess.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, and Frances blames me for everything that happened last fall. He never told her it was that stinking Victoria Ruskin bitch behind it all. Both his parents were polite enough, but they’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, so I got out of there.”

  “Oh, honey, I had no idea it was this bad. But this Adam, is he on the level?”

  “I think so, but how would I know? I must be the worst judge of character when it comes to men — I should get a medal. But he’s nice and has this James Bond thing going on.”

  “Really? Which one?”

  “Who’s your favorite?”

  “No way! It’s nothing, Matt.” She said over her shoulder.

  “Oh, yeah!”

  “You be extra careful!”

  “Tell me about it. And don’t worry. I won’t get drunk and seduce him. I just wanted to be somewhere I feel special. Did you know I’m the first Everdon to set foot in here since my grandfather left in 1947?”

  “Is that so? I thought the others would have been to see it.”

  “He said he tried, but they won’t even come close. I guess they had enough with our special family Weekends to set them up for the rest of their lives. Oh, Rachel, if you could see it…”

  “Take pictures and grab brochures. They must have a website!”

  “You’re right. Why didn’t I think of that? I’m a mess. Sometimes I swear I must be the most stupid woman alive.”

  “You’re not and you know it. You are strong and smart and special in more ways than I can count, never mind gorgeous.”

  Emma’s tears started again.

  “Okay, I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  Emma’s attempt at laughter came out as a snort. “Thanks. I can always count on you to pull me up.”

  “Anytime, day or night unless I’m pushing this baby out.”

  “Did it start?” Emma sat up to attention.

  “No, no. Hold on. I still have nearly a month of wallowing around the house left. Everyone tells me I should enjoy it because I won’t sleep well for years to come.”

  Emma grimaced. ”I hope that’s not true.”

  “I guess I’ll find out, but I don’t mind. It will be worth it. So, what are you up to tonight?”

  “Dinner in the dining room. How’s that for surreal?”

  “I can’t imagine. What are you wearing?”

  “I had the wedding day dress in the overnight bag. It’s steaming out the wrinkles in the bathroom.”

  “Ooh, lucky man! Just be careful. That accent is too sexy for what it’s worth.”

  “Tell me about it!”

  “Feeling better?”

  “Yeah. Thanks, Rachel. For everything and mostly for being you.”

  “You’re more than welcome. Now go and get ready before you start me blubbering. I can hardly breathe as it is.”

  “Okay. And I’ll take pictures.”

  Putting away her phone, Emma felt better than she had since leaving the Tudor mansion. And she forgot to tell Rachel about the ghosts again.

  ~*~

  The grandfather clock chimed the hour from its alcove when Emma appeared at the top of the stairs in her perfectly steamed dress. She had taken more time than usual preparing for dinner, all the while reminding herself it was not a date, but that was no reason to not look her best. He was waiting for her at the landing dressed in a black shirt and trousers, a smile tugging at his lips when he noticed her pause. This was a moment borrowed from history and Emma conquered the urge to glance over her shoulder in case anyone waited to give her a shove from behind. Things like that only happened in recurring nightmares. The way his gaze skimmed over her confirmed he liked what he saw, and it gladdened her. With her hand skimming the banister, she started down the many steps, the flared skirt swirling around her knees. She took his extended hand on successfully reaching the bottom.

  “You are a vision I may remember for the rest of my days.” He whispered.

  Emma lowered her eyes and blushed. “Thank you. You can’t imagine how relieved I am to have made the distance in these heels.” She giggled self-consciously.

  “You managed the journey with elegance and grace.” He assured her.

  She peeked up at him through her lashes. Even with the extra four inches the stilettos added, he was still taller than she. “You’re looking quite dapper yourself. Is that an English enough term?”

  “English enough for me.”

  Several guests acknowledged him as they walked by and eyed her with interest.

  “I hope you don’t mind dining tucked away in the corner. It will give us more privacy. Guests often stop by the table to say hello when I’m here. We’re rather informal.”

  The spot offered both seclusion from other diners and a view of the room.

  “No, this is perfect.” She said as he eased her chair in place. She could see why people would want to speak to him. He was handsome and approachable, exactly as a good hotelier ought to be.

  “Do you enjoy red wine?”

  “I do.”

  “Brilliant. I have a fine Bordeaux I’ve wanted to open.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  As if on cue, a waiter appeared with the bottle and uncorked it. Following a wordless exchange, he left without Adam sniffing the cork, swirling the wine in the glass and swishing it around in his mouth. Whether meant to impress, she had always found the ritual ridiculous.

  He poured both glasses and raised his. “To a lovely evening.”

  They clinked.

  “Mmmm… this is excellent.” Emma savored the full-bodied drink.

  “We are rather fortunate to live close to some of the best wineries in France. This is not a well-known label, but probably won’t stay unknown for long. They’ve produced some exceptional wines.”

  “I agree.”

  “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering our chef’s most favorite dishes. When I told her an Everdon was dining here tonight she was delighted.”

  “You didn’t!” Emma chided.

  “I did, indeed.” He replied mischievously. “Your visit is a rather exciting occasion for us.”

  “What can I say — I’m honored to be here.” She took another sip. It made no difference if what he said was exactly true, but going out of his way to make her feel important sure felt good.

  He was also right about the food; the chef had outdone herself and as the meal progressed, Emma barely noticed the evening had turned to night and someone had lit the fire in the hearth. Had she any memories of cozy dinners from a Weekend? She couldn’t recall, only meals with all of them hunkered over five courses, often in strained silence knowing what was coming next. Even the steady gazes of her ancestors from the gilded frames lost their creepiness. Being out among the living made them seem more approachable.

  Tealights glowed on the tables by the time dessert arrived and only half of the diners remained. Emma watched a couple gazing at each other on the far side of the room by a window. She would not have found it strange, but his high collar and frilled cravat and her empire style gown gave away they were not typical guests. Or perhaps the opposite was true. The lady caught Emma’s eye, and they shimmered at the edges and faded from view. They wanted their privacy.

  Adam followed her gaze. “What was it?” He asked puzzled.

  “Oh, nothing.” She said innocently. “Just comparing again. I prefer this room. It’s much cozier.”

  He smiled pleased. “I’m glad you like it. I wasn’t sure what you�
�d make of it.”

  “Someone extremely talented who cares for the manor should take credit for his accomplishments. From what I’ve seen, everyone seems so relaxed and happy. That is no accident, believe me. At our house, those things don’t exist. We’d need a miracle to cheer up the place.”

  “Surely, it can’t be all bad.”

  “Take my word for it. It is.” Probably worse. She hoped he’ll never know. To show him the ruins, half the age of this magnificent building would be beyond embarrassing.

  “I like the tennis court in the back. We have a walled garden sanctuary in that spot. It was lovely a long time ago with a long reflecting pool and a fountain in the middle where people could sit on a bench and relax. The shrubs have taken over and only the weeds thrive in the flowerbeds. It’s the burial place for Amelia and Mason. Nobody goes there.”

  “That sounds like a splendid idea — without the graves. Creating something like that had crossed my mind from time to time.”

  “I’m sure it would be beautiful. Why didn’t you go ahead?”

  “Contrary to how things seem, I’m not the one who has the final say on what gets done. I have to answer to my superiors, and they don’t always agree with my ideas though the tennis courts have proven a success.”

  Of course! The place wasn’t his. God, sometimes she didn’t think at all! “Who exactly has the last word?”

  “The solicitor for the Everdon Trust as he’s directed.”

  “Ah. Yes. I should have known. We have a Trust overseeing everything, but mum has always dealt with the lawyers herself.”

  “Well, I don’t envy her that task. They can be obdurate. I had to make the occasional trip to London and state my case. Solicitors have no vision, not he at any rate.”

  “Who are they? Maybe mum’s heard of them.”

  His expression changed, but it was so fleeting she could have imagined it.

  “Simcoe and Andrews. Ironically, Mr. Simcoe passed away five years ago and only Simon Andrews remains in the Firm which illustrates my point on their reluctance to change.”