The Ferryman (The Guardians Series 1 Book 2)

by Wendy Saunders

  Her breath caught in her throat, her mouth slightly open and yet unable to form words as she beheld the tall elegant grandfather clock in front of her. She recognised the wood, Olive wood native to Greece. She traced her fingertips reverently along the gorgeous patterning caused by the grain of the wood. Despite the clocks obvious age it was in a flawless condition and polished to a highly glossy finish.

  Her fingers moved to the tiny golden key in the door and turned it gently. The lock released with a gentle click and the door swung open without any groan of protest, as if the hinges were freshly oiled. The inside mechanism also seemed to be in excellent condition and had not aged at all, the huge polished pendulums hung silent and still. She turned her gaze to the face of the clock itself, her eyes widening in surprise. The picture which had been painted directly into the clock face was of the lake, shimmering in the moonlight, and on it was a tiny little boat, a small wooden skiff with a post at one end from which hung an old fashioned lantern. In the boat stood a tall lean figure in a short linen tunic belted at the waist. In his hands he held a long pole with which he steered the boat. Around the circumference of the clock face was a tiny inscription in Greek lettering and underneath the clock was a small gold plaque which simply read ‘for Charlotte.’

  ‘This was Charlotte’s clock,’ Olivia gazed up at Theo. ‘She must have wanted us to know about it. This is the chiming we’ve been hearing ever since she appeared. Look at the picture.’

  ‘It must be Charon,’ Theo replied. ‘I guess you were right, Charlotte is trying to tell you about the Ferryman.’

  Her gaze fell to the foot well of the clock beneath the pendulums and she noticed a design etched into the wood. Leaning down she squinted in an attempt to make out the design, but struggled in the shadow and poor light of the hallway. Kneeling down next to the clock she snapped her fingers softly and one of her dragonflies appeared, burning brightly with the warm gold and red of her Earth fire. It hovered over her shoulder before darting into the cavity of the clock, lighting the inside.

  Now Olivia could see the design clearly on the bottom wooden plate. Etched deeply into the wood was a poppy. She traced her fingers lightly over the delicately designed flower and felt a tiny shift in the wood. She moved her fingers over the design again and once more she felt the almost infinitesimal movement. It was a false bottom and there was something underneath it. She felt the wood carefully, tracing along the edges until she reached the top left hand corner. She pressed down gently and the bottom right corner lifted just enough for her to curve her fingers underneath it and prise it loose.

  There was a secret compartment and it looked as if something was hidden inside. She reached in and her fingers curled around something hard and rectangular, covered in cloth. Pulling it free she blew away the dust and turned in over in her hands.

  ‘What is it?’ Theo asked as she began to unwrap the cloth covering.

  She dropped the material to the floor and found she held a leather bound book with Charlotte Lilly West etched into the cover in tidy gold lettering.

  ‘I think it’s Charlotte’s journal,’ Olivia answered as she opened the first page.

  ‘Well the women in your family are nothing if not consistent,’ Theo murmured. ‘Do you keep a journal?’ he asked curiously.

  Olivia shook her head. ‘No, I’ve never felt the need to,’ she replied, ‘but over the last few hundred years it was fairly common for people to keep journals. Not so much now,’ she smiled up at him in amusement, ‘now that people have Facebook.’

  A sudden banging at the door startled them both. Olivia looked up to see her dragonfly still hovering in the air and she held up her hand. Theo waited until it had safely disappeared before he answered the door.

  ‘Hi,’ the voice was familiar, ‘you must be Theo. I’m Veronica from the museum. I was wondering if Olivia was in.’

  ‘I’m here Veronica,’ Olivia called from the floor, beckoning her in.

  Veronica’s gaze dropped to where Olivia, still in her pyjamas, sat on the floor surrounded by boxes.

  ‘Ah, I see you got your items back from the museum. They said they were going to deliver them today.’

  ‘Well I certainly wasn’t expecting it to be as much as this, but we’re in the middle of sorting out some stuff in the house so I guess a few more boxes won’t hurt,’ Olivia climbed to her feet.

  ‘What happened to your face?’ Veronica frowned at the dark bruising along Olivia’s jaw.

  ‘That,’ she pointed towards the mess in the library.

  Veronica poked her head around the door and gasped. ‘What on earth happened?’

  ‘I was trying to sort through and rearrange the room and a load of books fell on me,’ she lied easily. ‘I really should have waited for Theo to help me get the ones down from the higher shelves but I was impatient and ended up dropping a load of stuff on me.’

  ‘Goodness,’ Veronica laughed, ‘you’re getting as clumsy as I am.’

  ‘So how are the renovations going?’

  ‘Good,’ she nodded enthusiastically, ‘we’re almost done and should be able to reopen by next week.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘Actually the reason I popped by today was because of your…um…ghost problem’ she whispered, looking around nervously.

  ‘Oh?’ Olivia replied in amusement.

  ‘Yes, you know I told you that she had been engaged to the mayor’s son.’

  ‘I remember, Clayton Swilley wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right. I told you he had a daughter and that she was still alive and living in Salem?’

  Olivia nodded.

  ‘Catherine Swilley isn’t it?’

  ‘It was,’ Veronica replied, ‘she changed her name after her mother remarried, took the stepfathers name. She prefers to be known as Ms Catherine Lindsey now. I contacted her and she is willing to meet with us this afternoon if you’re free. Renata said I could take the rest of the day off so are you up for a drive to Salem?’

  ‘Sure I’d love too,’ she turned to Theo.

  ‘I’m supposed to be meeting Tommy this afternoon,’ he told her, ‘but if you want me to go with you I can cancel.’

  She looked at his forlorn expression and bit back a smile. She knew Tommy was giving Theo another driving lesson and knowing how much he was enjoying himself, didn’t want to deprive him.

  ‘It’s fine,’ she stretched up on tip toes and kissed him softly, ‘you go play with your friend I’ll be fine. Veronica and I will make a girls’ day of it seeing as I had to cancel our shopping trip last week.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’

  ‘I am,’ she turned to Veronica, ‘give me ten minutes to shower and dress and I’ll be good to go.’

  By early afternoon they’d pulled up at the address they’d had been provided with and as Olivia climbed out of Veronica’s rather sensible Nissan Sentra, she looked up at the house and her mouth curved in amusement. It was a Greek revival, decorated with smart pale blue grey clapboards and crisp white trims. Flat white pilasters decorated the corners of the house to give the appearance of Greek style columns, an architectural trend of the early to mid-1800s.

  ‘Oh, what a pretty house,’ Veronica locked the car and joined her on the sidewalk, staring up at the large well kept property.

  ‘Yes it is,’ Olivia murmured as they started towards the house.

  They were greeted at the door by a tall willowy woman in her forties with pale red hair tied neatly back in a low ponytail.

  ‘Yes,’ she smiled politely, ‘may I help you?’

  My name is Veronica Mason and this is my companion Olivia West. Ms. Lindsey invited us to join her for tea this afternoon. I’m afraid we may be a little early.’

  ‘Oh,’ recognition dawned in her eyes, ‘yes she did mention you would be visiting. You work at the museum in Mercy, isn’t that right.’

  ‘Yes I do,’ Veronica smiled offering her hand.

  �
�I’m Lucy Wainwright,’ she shook each of their hands in turn and stepped back to allow them entrance. ‘I’m Ms Lindsey’s niece, please come in.’

  They both stepped into a wide elegant foyer, a small circular table stood at the centre of the glossy floor and on it was a tall Waterford vase filled with elegant long stemmed lilies. The walls were painted a delicate biscuit colour with white trims. A slim staircase curved upwards to their left and to the right was a well-lit day room, its entrance an open archway flanked by two slender white columns.

  A maid appeared at their side and efficiently whisked away their heavy winter coats.

  ‘If you’d like to come with me I believe Aunt Kitty is in the parlour.’

  Veronica and Olivia followed along obediently, observing the house as they went. The whole place spoke of money and class. Towards the back of the house they entered a parlour decorated in a pale cool green and smelling of lilies of the valley.

  A small tidy woman looked up from the book in her hands and removed her reading glasses, placing them down with her book on the low table in front of her. She smoothed back perfectly coiffed hair which looked as soft and silvery as a cloud.

  ‘Miss Mason and Miss West I presume,’ she stood slowly and offered her hand.

  ‘Ms. Lindsey,’ Veronica took her hand gently, ‘it’s very good of you to see us.’

  She nodded as Veronica released her hand and Olivia stepped forward.

  ‘Ms. Lindsey,’ Olivia wrapped her hand around the old woman’s tiny little hand. Much like her friend Renata, her delicate bones felt fragile and her skin felt like dry dusty paper. ‘I’m very please to meet you,’ she smiled softly.

  Catherine Lindsey held onto Olivia’s hand and for a brief moment studied her face curiously.

  ‘Please take a seat,’ she finally released her and indicated towards a high backed cream colour sofa opposite her. ‘It’s a little early but it’s such a chilly day I think some tea would be nice.’ She turned towards the tall red haired woman, ‘if you would be a dear Lucy.’

  ‘Of course Aunt Kitty,’ she smiled fondly and disappeared.

  ‘My niece,’ she smiled at them. ‘Lucy is the middle child of my younger half sister. She takes care of me and is a great comfort.’

  ‘I’m sure she is,’ Olivia replied, ‘it’s nice to have family.’

  ‘You are here about your family if I am to understand Miss Mason’s letter correctly.’

  ‘I am,’ Olivia nodded, ‘I’m researching my family history. I am interested most particularly in my Great Great Aunt, Charlotte Lilly West, who I understand was engaged briefly to your father.’

  ‘Hmmm,’ she folded her hands neatly in her lap, ‘I know about Charlotte.’

  ‘You do?’

  ‘I never met her obviously, she died ten years before I was even born but on occasion my father would speak of her.’

  ‘Did he?’ Olivia’s brow rose in surprise.

  ‘Miss West,’ she sighed, ‘my father was a difficult and complicated man. He had many personal demons and I believe Charlotte West was one of them.’

  She looked up as Lucy re-entered the room. She was pushing a small trolley which held a delicate porcelain tea service of white china edged in gold and decorated with pink roses. She served each of them in turn but as Veronica took hers the china tinkled merrily as her hand shook.

  ‘Oh my goodness’ Veronica breathed, nervously examining the cup more closely. ‘Is this Meissen?’

  ‘Yes it is,’ Ms. Lindsey replied, ‘is something wrong?’

  ‘No, I,’ she gulped nervously, ‘I’m just a little clumsy I’m afraid I might damage it.’

  ‘Perhaps you would prefer to use my Great Grandnephew’s sippy cup,’ her mouth curved in amusement ‘or maybe a nice plastic beaker?’

  Veronica’s face flushed at the old woman’s’ teasing tone.

  ‘Stop worrying so much child,’ she told her gently, ‘good china is meant to be enjoyed. If it gets broken, it gets broken. It’s not the end of the world.’

  Veronica took a sip of her tea, managing a small smile before she placed the cup very carefully down on the coffee table.

  ‘Now where were we?’ Ms Lindsey straightened in her chair and sipped her tea thoughtfully. Finally, she looked back at Olivia with a sigh. ‘The truth is Miss West my father was not a well man. Growing up with him was like being trapped on a disturbing merry go round and unable to get off. One moment he was attentive and overly affectionate and the next…he could be so cruel. My mother suffered through the worst of his episodes; unable to help him, unable to leave him. It may be an unchristian thing to say but the day he died was a blessing for us all. My stepfather was a lovely man and very good to my mother and I. She met him about a year after my father’s death and they were married within six months. They gave me a half brother and sister. We were so happy, my stepfather never treated me any differently to his own children. We were a real family, and mother and I tried our best to put our life with my father behind us, But some things remain with you and his obsession with Charlotte West was one of those things I’ve never been able to forget.’

  ‘His obsession?’ Olivia frowned.

  ‘What I know of her and their relationship I have built from fragments of many conversations with my father and when I say conversations I am being polite. Most of the time when he spoke of Charlotte he would be ranting, either drunk or caught in the middle of one of his episodes.’

  Olivia sat quietly, patiently waiting for the old woman to organise her thoughts.

  ‘I think he did love her,’ she began again, ‘but it was a possessive unhealthy love.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘I think he believed she was in love with someone else. During the worst of his rants he would shout and scream that she was his and his alone; that he was rather see her dead than with another man.’

  ‘Ms. Lindsey,’ Olivia asked carefully, ‘I don’t wish to cause offense but do you think he was capable of hurting Charlotte?’

  ‘You want to know if he was responsible for her death?’

  ‘The thought had crossed my mind.’

  ‘I did wonder about that for a very long time and it weighed on me but the truth is I simply don’t know. I think he was capable of it but whether or not he actually killed her I can’t say. The only two people who know the truth are dead, but if she did come to harm at the hands of my father she wasn’t the only one.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My mother told me that he had been married previously to a woman named Madeline.’

  ‘We found their marriage certificate,’ Veronica spoke up, ‘but were unable to find out what happened to her.’

  ‘She died,’ she told them. ‘According to my mother, Madeline was rather reliant on Laudanum and I don’t blame her after being married to my father. From what I understand eighteen months into the marriage she was found dead in her bath. The official cause of death I believe was accidental drowning due to acute Laudanum intoxication.’

  Veronica and Olivia threw each other a speculative look.

  ‘Like I said,’ Ms. Lindsey continued, ‘I can’t tell you with any degree of certainty what my father might or might not have done. All I can tell you is the sort of man he was and allow you to draw your own conclusions.’

  ‘I appreciate that Ms. Lindsey,’ Olivia answered as she watched Lucy hand the old woman a slightly battered looking box.

  ‘Lucy dear could you retrieve the small square gift box from my room and some tissue paper,’ she spoke softly to her niece before turning back to Olivia.

  ‘I want you to have this.’

  Olivia took the box curiously. It was an old wooden cigar box with the words Rocky Ford branded into the top and Monarch etched into the side. Opening it up there was a faded illustration of a native American on the inside of the lid, but she barely glanced at it as her gaze was already caught on the box’s intriguing contents. She lifted out delic
ate newspaper clippings browned with age and falling apart at the folds as if they had been handled too often. She unfolded them carefully, revealing a clipping of Clayton and Charlotte’s engagement announcement and another of Charlotte’s death announcement. Underneath it was a faded hymn card from her funeral and beneath that a photograph. Olivia lifted it out with trembling fingers as she beheld Charlotte’s face for the first time. Not the pale bruised dirty skin and white lifeless eyes she had experienced but Charlotte as she should have looked. Her eyes dark, her face young and unmarred at eighteen and her hair falling dark and glossy to her shoulders.

  ‘You look like her,’ Ms. Lindsey startled her from her thoughts.

  ‘The family resemblance runs strong with the Wests,’ Olivia murmured.

  Reaching back into the box her fingers closed around a small circular locket. She pulled it out and turned it over in her hand. The chain was broken but the locket itself was still intact, although a little tarnished. The face of the locket was engraved with the depiction of a coin surrounded by a wreath of olives. She clicked it open and inside was one word written in Greek.

  ‘Agapitós’

  ‘Beloved,’ Olivia whispered as she traced the word with the pad of her thumb.

  She looked up as Lucy re-entered the room with a small square gift box and handed it to the old lady, watching with interest as she lifted the empty teacup and saucer Veronica had been using. Taking care she wrapped each item individually in a soft white tissue paper and slid them into the box before handing it to Veronica.

  ‘I would like you to have this Miss Mason.’

  ‘Pardon?’ Veronica stared back at her holding the box awkwardly. ‘I can’t accept this, it’s Meissen and its part of a set.’

  The old lady chuckled in delight.

  ‘When you get to my age you will realise just how unimportant things like that truly are.’

  ‘Then why?’ she frowned in confusion.

  ‘It is a statement,’ she told her. ‘I want you to take that teacup home with you and I want you to use it every day to remind yourself.’