The Curse of the Golden Touch

by G M Mckay

  “Hello, Jillian,” he said, and before I could answer, and before Gil could catch me, I’d hit the floor for the third time that week with an almighty thud.

  Chapter 15

  “I really need to stop doing that,” I murmured, wincing as I opened my eyes. I’d been tucked onto a brocade couch in one of the sitting rooms next to a fireplace with a soft blanket draped over me. My neck and shoulder ached, and I’d wager my right side would be one impressive bruise before the day was over.

  Morris had taken up residence across my knees and was sleeping soundly on his back with his paws in the air.

  “Ah, she wakes,” a familiar voice said and I felt the hair on the back of my neck rise up. I struggled into a sitting position and turned to glare at the man I’d hoped to never see again as long as I lived.

  He wasn’t alone; Gil and Xan were seated at the table across from him, along with Estelle and Belinda. Nobody seemed particularly worried about me and I realized that they were actually all looking down at a chart that had been spread across the table.

  I blinked a few times and looked away, not sure why everyone was so chummy all of a sudden, especially with the man who’d been involved in that terrible time in my life when Nanny had been sent away.

  “You should see this, Jilly,” Gil said, for once oblivious to my distress, “it’s a whole blueprint of the house complete with the old hidden servant’s passages and everything. Good luck to us trying to find a will in this maze.”

  He looked up and frowned when he saw the expression on my face.

  “What?” he asked in bewilderment. “What’s wrong?”

  But I couldn’t answer him right then, I kept my eyes locked on the doctor and, pushing Morris gently aside, I slowly rose to my feet.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked coldly.

  “Jilly, this is Dr. Crane,” Estelle said quickly, “he’s Ruthie’s private physician. He was able to get away early …”

  “I know who he is. Or at least I thought I did. What I want to know is what he’s doing here, after all this time, pretending to be a real doctor.”

  Dr. Crane looked at me with a slightly sad expression on his face and sighed heavily. He was older than I remembered of course, his slick black hair had turned to salt and pepper and his neatly trimmed goatee had developed into a matching beard. He now wore a pair of small, round glasses perched halfway down his nose. But, even with these changes I would have recognized him anywhere. All that was missing was the bossy, arrogant sneer I remembered.

  “So you do remember me, Jillian,” he said unhappily. “I’m sorry for that; I can assure you that I am a real doctor. I’ve been with the family, as was my father and my grandfather before him, for many years; all my life, really.”

  “But … but … you were a psychologist.”

  He cleared his throat and shrugged uncomfortably. “I’m afraid that I have to wear many hats in this business, Jillian.”

  “You…” I faltered, “you’re a monster. You took everything from me.”

  “Jilly, what’s going on?” Gil had risen slowly to his feet and was staring back and forth between me and the doctor, a look of anger and confusion on his face. “How do you know this man?”

  I opened my mouth and then hesitated, torn between confronting this awful man and spilling all my newly discovered secrets in front of Gil. I wanted to tell him everything I’d learned, eventually, but I wasn’t ready yet.

  “Now, now,” Belinda interrupted, standing up and coming quickly to my side. “This really isn’t the time to talk about the past. We can reminisce about the old days over a cup of tea once the doctor has told you all about Ruth. He examined her while you were, er, resting and he agrees that we’ve done everything we medically can do. He knew where these maps of the house and estate were because Ruth had told him that he might need them someday. We were waiting for you to wake up, Jillian, before going over it all together. You really do need to take it easier, dear; you still haven’t recovered fully from your concussion.”

  Gil clenched his fists together, glaring between Belinda and the doctor as if deciding who he should fight.

  My own drama can wait until later, I decided finally, the important thing now is to help Ruth. But I won’t let him off the hook. By the time we’re done he’s going to explain, and apologize for, everything.

  “I think Ruth should go to the hospital,” I said firmly.

  “Oh, but Ruth would hate waking up in the hospital,” Estelle said, wringing her hands together. “She just despises them. I don’t want her spending her last … I mean, any more time there than necessary.”

  “That’s the truth,” Belinda said sadly. “She was quite ill in her late teens and always said she’d never forget what an awful time she had there. She loves this house and the stables and being outdoors. We didn’t want her cooped up in a big building full of strangers. But, I suppose if she’s not lucid, and she doesn’t know where she is anymore that it’s probably the best course. She’s not getting any better here like we’d hoped.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Aimee said furiously, walking in the open door with the loaded tea tray. “You can’t send her away now.”

  A log in the hearth popped loudly, sending a chunk of burning ember flying onto the carpet. There was a scramble while everyone jumped up and then Gil, who was closest, scooped the smoldering wood up neatly onto the little metal dustpan and tossed it back into the fire. And when finally we looked up again the tea tray was on the table but there was no sign of Aimee.

  “The poor thing,” Belinda said sympathetically, “she’s been devoted to Ruth. She’s stayed by her side and nursed her day and night. Ruth is the closest thing she’s had to a mother, I’m afraid.”

  “Couldn’t we give her just one more day?” Estelle said, her eyes welling with tears. “We could do one last search of the house today, together, with everyone helping. If she still hasn’t improved by morning, we can take her to the hospital and, er, inform her relatives tomorrow.”

  I hesitated, imaging the hordes of greedy extended family swooping down on the estate like screeching carrion birds ready to pluck the farm apart, including the horses and little Damascus, and sell it, piece by piece to the highest bidder.

  “I suppose one day wouldn’t hurt,” Xan said thoughtfully, glancing at Gil and I for confirmation.

  “She’s resting comfortably.” Doctor Crane stood up and moved to the doorway. “She will be fine to move tomorrow. It will make no difference. Now, I must go.”

  Belinda stood as well and made a little beckoning motion toward me.

  “Come dear, now is the time to ask your questions.”

  I froze, feeling a wave of fear wash over me. Yes, I wanted to know what had happened but this felt so sudden, I wasn’t prepared. I saw Gil start toward me and made up my mind.

  “Fine,” I said to Dr. Crane, “you have ten minutes.”

  Ignoring Gil’s baffled expression I left him behind and followed Belinda and the doctor out into the hallway, not saying a word until we’d reached the front door. “I only want to know one thing,” I said finally. “Can you reverse it?”

  “That is complicated,” Dr. Crane said, wincing a little under my furious gaze. “The initial procedure was a delicate combination of shock therapy, hypnotism and the power of suggestion. Each, er, subject responds slightly differently to the process. And it also depends on the strength and nature of the gift that needs to be repressed.”

  I raised my chin, outraged at the casual way he spoke of just eliminating gifts like they were nothing. “It also has a little to do with how willing the subject is to be part of the procedure. Your mother, for instance, was fully behind getting rid of her one gift in order to strengthen another. She adapted to her post-surgical life seamlessly and, apparently, without regrets.”

  “My mother?” I said in astonishment, “but what did she …”

  “Meanwhile,” the doctor went on as if I hadn’t spoken. “Ruth and yourself an
d several other members of this branch of the family, did not seem to adapt nearly so well and no second gifts became dominant enough to take the place of the first, eradicated, gift. We think it’s a recessive gene that your particular branch of the family—”

  “Wait a second,” I held up my hand to stop him. “You’re saying that both my mother, and Great Aunt Ruth had this done to them, too? But what on earth kinds of gifts did you erase from them?”

  “The same as yours,” the doctor said, looking surprised at my question, “a gift of ghosts.” And with that he opened the front door and strode outside.

  By the time I’d gathered my wits enough to realize that he hadn’t answered my question about whether my procedure could ever be reversed, and I’d thrown the door back open and run down the short steps to the path, it was too late. He’d already gotten into his small, black car and sped hastily down the driveway.

  Chapter 16

  Belinda had been very sympathetic and had plied me with an oversized sandwich a mug of coffee to help fortify my nerves. I wouldn’t stay in the kitchen to eat, though; I was too agitated to keep still. Gil found me sitting with my plate in my lap, seated on the bottom step of the winding staircase beneath the Dark Lady’s stained glass window.

  “There you are,” he said in a controlled voice. He sat down next to me and then reached out to snag a slice of dill pickle off my plate.

  I raised an eyebrow at his thievery and then automatically slid closer so our shoulders were touching.

  “We’ve missed our chance to see if anything happens at nine o’clock in the morning,” I said, nodding toward the multi-coloured fingers of sunlight that were inching across the floor, filtered through the glass of the Dark Lady’s window.

  Gil glanced over at the ancient grandfather clock in the corner. “I suppose we’d better examine the clock, just in case there really is something hidden there. What are you doing sitting out here anyway?”

  “I’m not sure.” I shrugged and looked around the room again. “Just thinking about how little I actually know about Ruth’s life besides that she’s cranky, old, and has horses. There is a whole other side of her that I didn’t know existed.”

  “I guess that’s true of everyone, really; most people only see the surface things without bothering to look deeper.”

  “Like Frederick. I took him at face value because he was handsome and charming. I didn’t know anything about him.”

  “We all make mistakes, Jilly. That’s how we learn and grow.”

  “I’ve also been thinking over that clue again,” I said, shifting the subject to safer ground. “I was hoping inspiration would strike me.”

  “You know, it’s only eleven o’clock. The sun couldn’t have moved that far in just a couple hours. Let’s just search all the places covered by light. It’s not that big an area.”

  “Okay,” I set the empty plate aside and scrambled to my feet. ‘Let’s start at the window.”

  We trotted up the stairs to the landing and carefully ran our hands over the entire glass window, inch by inch. Then we focussed on the banisters and railings, checking in vain for hollow or hidden spots that could conceal a missing will. We went down the stairs slowly, examining the carpet for clues.

  “There are only seven stairs on this level,” I said, going back up to the window. “Maybe we take nine steps downward from where the light hits?”

  “Worth a try,” Gil said and we stood side by side with our backs resting against the stained glass. First, we walked downward and when we reached the floor, we tested every board, trying to hear if there were hollow spots beneath our feet. We examined every inch of the floor that was already covered by morning light.

  “Now the clock,” Gil said. He carefully opened the wooden cabinet door that protected the internal workings of the clock and we peered inside and poked here and there in the hopes of discovering some hidden compartment or something.

  “Nothing,” Gil said, shutting the door again.

  “Let’s try the second floor then,” I said, gazing upward to where a little light had splashed onto the upper landing. We started at the stained glass window again and did the same careful examination of the stairs leading upward. There wasn’t much on the upper landing. Just a few fake potted plants that didn’t have anything concealed inside and some small paintings that we carefully took down from their wall hooks and examined all over. Nothing anywhere.

  “Well, I guess it was worth a try,” Gil said, shrugging. “It’s a huge house; the odds of us finding something that was meant to stay hidden are slim.”

  “Maybe.” We went down the stairs together but when we reached the bottom, I hesitated for some reason. There had been a slight drop in temperature, just enough to make me shiver but I stopped and turned my head. Perhaps it was a faint sound that drew my attention to the space behind the stairs, or maybe it was just a feeling, but I found myself walking around the corner to where the entry way led into the ballroom.

  “Jilly, what are you doing?” Gil asked but I just shook my head and knelt down to run my fingers along the wooden baseboard next to the door.

  There was a tiny clicking sound and Gil knelt down beside me, reaching out to help me lift away first a small section of baseboard and then the loose board beneath. Underneath was a dark, hollowed out spot that smelled faintly of damp and mildew.

  “How did you know this was here?” Gil asked incredulously, shooting me a strange look.

  “I have no idea,” I whispered, just as surprised as he was. “I just felt like I needed to look here.”

  “Well, there’s something in here, I think. Hang on.”

  He cautiously reached into the dark crevice and pulled out a small metal box. It looked ancient, there were spider webs clinging to one side and the lock on the front had rusted completely off. It certainly didn’t look like it had been hidden recently.

  “Open it,” I said, clutching Gil’s arm in excitement.

  One hinge broke away completely as soon as he started to lift the lid so he just broke the rest of it off and set it to one side. We both leaned forward and saw that nestled inside was an aged, yellow scroll tied with a faded red ribbon.

  “Wow, that looks ancient,” I said, reaching out carefully to extract the scroll. The paper felt fragile beneath my fingers but I was able to gently untie the ribbon and lay the paper flat on the floor in front of us.

  We knelt side by side, our heads brushing together as we peered down at the yellowed paper. I was hardly able to believe what I was seeing. It was a short letter written in scrawled handwriting.

  This is my last will and testament, it read, if anything should happen to me then my estate should pass to my beloved Jacob and to our daughter. I made a great mistake in giving up our beautiful child without even telling my Jacob that he was about to be a father. I can only hope that, in the long-run, I have done what was best for the child. If I should pass away before I can reveal my secret to the world then all my inheritance should go toward tracking down our daughter and bringing her home. The remainder of my estate should go to her, and to her descendants, and to my beloved Jacob.

  “Unbelievable,” I said looking down at the elegant, looping signature. It was Great Aunt Ruth’s. And it was dated from over fifty years ago. “That’s right around when she would have been trying to make the Olympic team,” I said breathlessly, doing the math quickly in my head.

  “I guess we know now why she had to quit competing,” Gil said, frowning.

  “She found out she was pregnant and of course she wasn’t married. It would have been an awful scandal at the time. Her parents must have been furious.”

  “Well, I guess this would be the official will unless we can find the new one,” Gil said slowly. “I really did not see that one coming. Do you think the others know?”

  “I don’t think so.” I shook my head. “No, probably not. I doubt that anyone but Ruth knew. She was probably sent abroad to have the baby and I bet Jacob didn’t even know that she wa
s pregnant before he was banished. I don’t know if she would have told him afterward. She must have felt so guilty. Oh, this is so sad. Poor Great Aunt Ruth.” My throat closed tightly as I struggled to push back tears.

  Gil laid a sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “I wonder where their daughter is. You’d think with all Ruth’s money she could have found someone to track her down after all this time. If they couldn’t find her then that means Jacob inherits everything.”

  “I don’t know. Maybe she’d passed away already or didn’t want anything to do with Ruth.”

  “I guess we should keep this somewhere safe,” Gil said. “Do you want me to hide it in my room?”

  “Sure, I don’t know where else to put it, though I’m not sure if anything is exactly safe in this house.”

  In the end, Gil took it back to his room and zipped it into the lining of his travelling bag. We would wait until Ruth had been safely deposited at the hospital before going to the lawyer with our discovery. It still didn’t sit with me easily, though. I’d discovered the will by fluke, or had been mysteriously led to it anyway; but it didn’t fit in with the ‘lady rides nine’ clue that Great Aunt Ruth had whispered to me so urgently. Was there was still something more she’d wanted us to know? Or had it just been the ramblings of a crazy old lady?

  Chapter 17

  “Do you want to come with me while I work with Damascus?” I asked Gil. “I thought I’d bring him in and brush him one final time and say goodbye.”

  We’d decided to pack up and head for home the next morning once Ruth had been admitted to the hospital and we’d shared what we knew with the lawyer. Nobody really felt comfortable staying at the estate under the circumstances.

  We also wanted to be well out of the house before the swarms of relatives descended. My plan was to let the lawyer know that I wanted to buy Damascus and hopefully whichever relative inherited would accept my meager offer. The lawyer could also let me know if the colt ended up being shipped to auction instead and I could try to make a bid on him there. It was a tentative plan at best, but at least it gave me a little hope.