by L C Kincaide
She gave him a sidelong glance. “Ok.”
He slowed, and they approached what looked like a huge pile of rubble. “I appreciate the warning because I didn’t bring my hiking boots.”
He grinned mysteriously.
A crumbling wall rose on both sides and a larger ruined structure appeared, craggy at the edges with large arches that were once windows.
“There used to be an abbey in that spot some time ago, and there you see what’s left of it.”
More partial stone walls with empty arches rose from an archaic foundation where the structure once stood.
“Just a few more seconds.” He teased.
Emma tried hard to imagine what this establishment might look like. She hoped they’d be eating with utensils and not gnaw food from a stick by a bonfire. When it appeared her eyes widened. Nestled within the center of an ancient ruin, a round glass building stood on a raised platform of stone, making it appear as if a spaceship had landed there. There didn’t appear to be an entrance, and she gave Adam a quizzical glance.
“It is moving, one revolution per hour, so the entrance is from below.”
“How ingenious. Everyone gets a view.”
“That was the idea.”
He parked the car and helped her out.
They entered through a timber door in the base and stepped into a hallway that led to a staircase in its center column. From nearby, sounds and scents of a busy kitchen escaped.
“The kitchen is on this level on the other side of this wall.” He explained.
Once upstairs, they were greeted by a hostess attired in medieval dress, and she escorted them to their table where Emma got her first close look of the restaurant and the view through the arches. On a sunny day, the vista of fields, orchards and towns would have been spectacular from this height. On this evening with gray skies, a thousand tiny bulbs sparkled near the ceiling.
The effect was magical.
Emma glanced up warily through the transparent ceiling at the looming old walls, their sheer size dwarfing them. Discreet spotlights aimed upwards at the base enhanced their rugged features.
“Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe. All the walls are reinforced and… how shall I put it without getting too technical… sealed to prevent them from crumbling.”
“That, I can understand.” She grinned. “It looks so authentic, like someone plopped this restaurant here in the middle of this empty space.”
“That was the intention. The bureaucracy around the project was daunting, but the results are worth it.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “You?”
He grinned. “I wanted you to see what is possible though I hope your manor is in better shape than this old abbey.”
“Wow. This is amazing. And to answer your question, only a quarter of it is destroyed.”
“Then there is hope.”
“I had no idea anyone did this kind of work.” She said.
“Then you approve of my choice?”
“Im glad he owed you one.”
“I’ve been waiting for the right opportunity to cash it in.”
“Thank you. I’m flattered.”
“My motives are purely selfish. I wanted to give you another reason to come back.”
“Did you, now?” She flirted. “You could have just asked.”
“Blimey! That never occurred to me.” His laugh was throaty and contagious.
A waiter, also dressed in period clothing appeared and Adam ordered wine.
“Are we going to drink from tankards?”
“If you’d prefer.” He said grinning. “You may eat from a wooden vessel with only a knife in place of utensils.”
She glanced around and found a tankard or two on nearby tables though the patrons had all opted to dine with the usual implements.
“You weren’t kidding.”
He watched her amused, and the waiter returned.
“So, what shall we toast to?”
Many suggestions waited on the tip of her tongue. “Lovely evenings and wonderful surprises.”
The food was marvellous, but it was second to spending time in his company. For a comparative stranger, he was easy to be with. It also helped that she had nothing to lose. She had already confided her new ghost-whispering abilities, and he was still here, listening to her and making her laugh and forget everything else. Then there was what she struggled to withhold, sure he did not know.
“Do you see any here?” He asked glancing around.
“No, just regular people.” A Scottish piper would not seem out of place but they were too far south.
“I’m intrigued about what you said before about your Everdon Manor being haunted.”
She winced.
“You don’t need to tell me if it makes you feel uncomfortable.”
“It doesn’t. The worst is over.” She took a sip. “How much do you know about Mason Everdon since he left for America?”
“Nothing, to be honest. Except that his brother Maxim and sister Martha made regular visits. I assumed they missed being close.”
“Not exactly. Amelia was murdered, and he cursed everyone who was there that night and all their descendants.”
“Blimey!”
“Blimey is right.” She told him about the annual tradition that had almost befallen her.
“I had no idea.”
“It’s why our manor is going to ruin. Everyone hates it.”
“Does that include you?”
“I don’t know. Mostly it makes me sad, especially after seeing what it could have been.”
“It must be startlingly different.”
“Believe me, it is. From the pictures I’ve seen in the albums, it was identical to the original. His attention to detail was exceptional. Maybe he missed his calling. Did you find anything in your research that would indicate Mason’s penchant for casting curses?”
“Can’t say that I have.”
“Just as well then. It’s not something I’d like to have inherited. It’s enough seeing ghosts.” She held her glass for Adam to refill. “Was there any more about Clara?”
“Actually, there was.” He began. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you earlier. You were correct that she wasn’t a servant. She was, in fact, my great-great grandmother. The Massies lived not far away from the manor so they had some sort of association.”
“I’m sorry. It must have come as a shock to learn how she died.”
“I won’t deny being surprised. According to family history, she was a widow who died in childbirth. Her sister and husband adopted Morgan and gave him the Kinsley name to shield him from malicious gossip, I imagine.”
“They wanted to cover up her suicide.”
“Only a desperate woman would have resorted to that. Desperate, and single, and ruined socially.”
“So there was no mention of the father?”
“She likely took that information to her grave, and her parents and sister too. As far as anyone knew, the boy was a Kinsley.”
“It was awful for her.” Emma remembered her pitiful words. “You know, she regretted what she’d done. It didn’t occur to her in those moments she would be leaving her child behind. I hope she knows he was well taken care of after that.”
“It was a long time ago. Let’s not dwell on what we can’t change.” He touched her hand.
Emma brightened. “You’re right. We have this beautiful evening and a spectacular view. I’m sorry if I upset you with my ghost story.”
“All is well. Besides, you can’t help it.” He studied her over the rim of his glass. “You’re very empathetic.”
“It must be a recent development. I wasn’t always like this.”
“I find that hard to believe.�
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She shrugged, the self-consciousness creeping up on her again.
“Family history can be surprising.”
“It’s a good thing they kept diaries, otherwise no one would know.” Emma agreed.
“True. People were more inclined to record their thoughts in those days.”
“It seems no family is without their secrets. The difference is that I grew up knowing their sins.”
“Apart from Clara’s circumstances I don’t know of anything else. The Kinsleys were not that flamboyant.”
“I would be willing to swap.”
“I don’t think I’d fare as well with ghosts as you do.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Mr. Kinsley. You don’t know until it’s right in front of you.”
“I rather fancy you in front of me.” He replied with a grin.
The heat of a telltale blush warmed her cheeks, and she was grateful for the muted light. “You should be careful what you ask for considering my heritage.” The wine was making her giddy, or maybe it was the setting or his company. She leaned back and sighed. “This place is magical. I’ll take that over haunted anytime.”
“You write a compelling advert.” He said and they burst out laughing.
“Would you like a nightcap?” He suggested upon their return.
The chill in the air helped revive her on the drive back and her head had cleared enough for her thoughts to settle. She followed him across the silent central hall to the parlor. Someone had lit a fire, and it was pleasantly warm inside. He removed his jacket and tossed it on the settee and went to the drinks cabinet. “What shall it be? Brandy or Sherry?”
“Sherry, please.” She glanced around the same, but different room. Mason watched her from above the mantel without Amelia beside him. Poor Clara. How was she going to tell Adam his family history was based on a lie? What right had she to spin his world off its axis? They’d just met. Not only was it not up to her, she shouldn’t even know. Maybe if she talked with Mr. Andrews, he could pass on the information.
Adam handed her the drink.
“For all his good looks, he had no luck with women at all.” Emma mused on the portrait; the dark blue eyes and lips that upturned at the corners lending him an air of being amused at nothing in particular. How clear it was that which had struck her as being familiar about Adam. “Nor they with him for that matter. Here’s to better luck.” She raised her glass and hoped good ole uncle Mason hadn’t cursed them with a crappy love life while he was at it though sometimes she wondered. With one decision, four generations of Everdons suffered the consequences and innocent people died. At least he had tried to make reparations, but it came too late for one.
“I’ll drink to that.” He indicated the armchairs by the fireplace. “Shall we?”
Emma took a seat and gazed into the flames. Beside her, Adam rested his arms on his legs and cradled his snifter. “Sometimes when it’s quiet like this, I forget I’m in the current century.”
Emma leaned forward too and looked at him. He was gazing into the fire and the light played over the planes of his features. If she told him what she knew, would he hold it against her? Would he become angry that the truth was just now coming out? Why had no one let his father know, or his about the past? Had they not thought it important, or were they hoping to someday profit from the secrecy? If the situation were reversed, how would she feel? It was impossible to say. She didn’t want to take the risk of him alienating her and decided to keep it to herself for now. She wanted to enjoy the time she had left with him.
When he turned to her, his dark eyes fixed on hers.
“I know what you mean. I’m glad I had a chance to see your manor. In a way it’s sad what’s become of ours, but being here gives me hope all is not lost.”
“Maybe it’s not too late.” He said. “Has anyone surveyed the damage? This sort of restoration is rather commonplace here. You’ve seen for yourself buildings on the brink of collapse can come back.”
“Even if that were possible, my mother would sooner see it all crash down than to have to deal with it ever again.”
“That is a shame.”
“I don’t think about it much. I’m glad this one is doing so well.”
“And like I said before, you’ll always be welcome.”
“Thanks. That means a lot.” She finished her drink. “And thanks for everything. I really enjoyed getting to know you. You’re fun to be with.”
He grinned and inclined his head and a lock of hair fell forward. “I did too. And I think you’re the bee’s knees.”
Emma chuckled. “Bees knees. I’ll have to add that to my vocabulary.”
“Please do.” He said, his lips quirking up at the corners.
Another silence stretched between them filled with thoughts she shouldn’t be entertaining. Staying here much longer would lead to trouble. At this moment, her reality was so far away it may as well not exist. But in three days, all this would be over and she had never been good with flings, though this one had potential to be epic.
“May I kiss you?” He broke into her musings and the simple request shot a bolt through her. She could not formulate a reply though he must have read it in her eyes for he was moving closer, and she met him halfway. His lips grazed hers gently, and the kiss deepened. Emma closed her eyes and savored the Brandy on his lips and his hand caressing her cheek. The kiss was gentle with a sweetness that held the promise of more. The spicy scent of his aftershave mingled with his warmth and Emma would have been happy enough to melt right there in the chair. He released her and when she opened her eyes, her head swam. Yes, epic if she had the nerve and her conscience was clear.
He took the glass from her. “Another?”
“No thanks. It’s late. We should go to bed. I mean to sleep. Um… separately.” She was babbling and her cheeks flamed all the way to her ears.
He tried to suppress a grin. “Yes, it is late, and I agree.” The glint in his eye told her they were on the same track.
“Come along, Miss Emma. Tomorrow’s another day.” He held out his hand to her and gave it a squeeze before letting go.
She was so grateful to him for making light of her goofiness, she could have kissed him again, but there would be no coming back from that. It must be something about the parlor. She had long suspected some sort of power held dominion over people’s emotions here and there equally.
They strolled across the dimly lit central hall and up the staircase, and as the night before following a chaste goodnight, he left her at the landing and returned to his office.
Emma flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. She was going to miss him and hoped for the best in what was to come. Even if by some miracle John remembered the bond they once shared and came back to her, Adam Kinsley would always be special.
She prepared for sleep, and before turning out the lights, called Rachel. The ringer must have been off because her greeting came on right away, so she left a brief message about having a great time. Then she used the remote to ignite the fireplace and set the timer for an hour. He had thought of everything down to the details in all things. Now she knew better where that trait had come from.
Again, she struggled with what to do, or rather how to go about it. If only there was someone who could advise her on how to best handle the situation, and again, only the lawyer came to mind. It seemed wrong her knowing and keeping it from him. By sheer accident, she had stumbled upon the spirit of Clara. Or maybe it was meant to be and fate had led her here. Turning off the bedside lamp, she gazed through the brass rails into the dancing flames.
TUESDAY
~*~
Emma rolled to her side, surprised she had slept at all and blinked into the muted room as her discoveries rushed forth. Why had she waited so long to read the documents of the Trust? Becau
se she hated everything to do with the manor, the Trust and the Everdon family curse. There had been no separating one from the other. Now that it was over, the scope of the reality was startling. She dragged herself to the shower and gradually revived under the hot spray.
As soon as she was dressed, she called the lawyer’s office. The deception taking place was destroying her from the inside regardless of how hard she tried to tamp down her guilt, and she had to put an end to it.
The secretary was ready to stall her when she gave her name and magically, Mr. Andrews suddenly became available.
“Miss Stuart, so lovely to hear from you. I hope you are enjoying your stay. As a matter of fact, I was about to call you myself.” He went on not interested in hearing about the details of her visit. She couldn’t imagine why he would want to talk to her though.
“Would it be possible for you to drop by our offices to sign a document? Strictly a formality. Or if more convenient, I can come around to the hotel to see you.”
“I’m not in London. What is this is about?” Emma asked intrigued.
“I see. It pertains to the sale of the manor and your signature is required to complete the transaction at our end. Will you be returning today or shall we set a time for tomorrow?”
Emma stared at the wall. Since when did mum plan to sell the manor? And why was she doing it from here when they had their own lawyers back home to handle everything? It made no sense. She must really hate the place to unload it in such a hurry. Even more curious was who would want it. It wasn’t exactly a showpiece. God knows, it lacked curb appeal.
“Hello? Miss Stuart, are you there?”
Emma blinked. “Yes, Mr. Andrews, I’m still here. I didn’t realize the manor had been put up for sale.”
“Oh,” He breathed a sigh of relief. “No, not formally. We received a substantial offer yesterday, and we’d like to finalize the details before you leave the country.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. Why the hurry when the property is in the States? We’re due back in two days.”