Silverbridge

by Joan Wolf

  It would have been a waste of time, he decided. I’m beginning to think that Tracy might be right and there was a bribe involved in Howles’s change of mind.

  “This whole thing stinks, Eb,” he said out loud, one long finger caressing his cat’s small skull.

  Ebony purred louder.

  Harry glanced at his watch, saw that it was time for the news to begin and shooed Ebony off his lap so he could turn on the television. As soon as he stood up the telephone rang. He let it ring twice, hoping that Mrs. Wilson would pick it up, then when it rang a third time he went to answer it himself.

  A man’s voice with a thick Scots accent said in his ear, “Is this Lord Silverbridge?”

  Harry frowned. “Yes. Who is this?”

  “Tracy Collins asked me to call you, my lord, and ask you to meet her by the lake on your property as soon as possible. She said she had something important to show you.”

  “Who is this?” Harry demanded again.

  “Just a local shopkeeper, my lord, doing as Miss Collins asked. Good-bye.”

  Harry stared at the phone, which had been disconnected.

  A local shopkeeper. He knew that Tracy had taken Meg shopping for new clothes, but why hadn’t she called him herself? This phone call suggested that she had been in a great hurry.

  What can she want to show me? And who the hell is this Scottish shopkeeper?

  He ran down two flights of stairs to collect the dogs. Neither Mrs. Wilson nor Marshal and Millie were in the kitchen, however. The housekeeper had probably taken the spaniels out for a walk. He made a quick decision not to search for them, but went into his office, grabbed a rifle from its glass cabinet, loaded it, and headed in the direction of the lake.

  Clouds had come in during the course of the afternoon, bringing an early twilight. Harry jogged steadily along the garden path, the rifle grasped firmly in his hand, feeling a sense of inexplicable urgency. He turned onto the path that would bring him to the woods, ignoring the headache that the exertion of jogging was bringing on.

  He didn’t use the bridle path but took the deer trails, and even so, it was half an hour before he reached the lake. A flock of blackbirds rose from the grass and flew away as he burst out of the tree cover, but, aside from the birds and the swans floating downstream, the lakeshore was empty of life.

  “Tracy,” he called. “Are you here?”

  A distant birdcall was his only reply.

  The skin on the back of Harry’s neck prickled, and a thought flashed through his brain, I’d better get under cover.

  Before he could translate this thought into action, however, two things occurred simultaneously. Someone shoved him from behind, causing him to fall sprawling to the ground, and a rifle bullet blasted over his head as he fell.

  Shit, Harry thought as he lifted his face out of the prickly grass. Another rifle shot rang out, and this bullet whistled close to his ear. “Get out of here,” he shouted to whoever had pushed him, got to his feet and dived into the woods.

  A third bullet exploded, then everything was quiet except for the hammering of Harry’s heart. I should have brought the dogs, he thought.

  “I have a gun, too!” he shouted in the direction of the shot. He fired his own rifle into the air. “Come and get me, you cowardly bastard.”

  He heard a faint rustling in the distance, but it could have been deer spooked by the sound of shooting. Adrenaline was pumping through his bloodstream, and he scarcely noticed the pain in his head. His eyes searched the woods he knew so well, the woods he had hunted since he was a boy, but all was quiet. He picked up a rock and threw it, waiting to see if the noise and motion would draw another rifle shot. Nothing.

  Bastard, Harry thought disgustedly. He’s not going to show himself. He’s going to run away. His finger curved around the trigger of his rifle. Damn!

  He waited for half an hour and during that time saw no sign of either the shooter or the person who had pushed him. It was as if both of them had dissolved into the English twilight. Finally, he decided to return to the house.

  By the time he let himself in the side door, his adrenaline rush had subsided and his head was pounding. He went downstairs to his office to return his rifle to its cabinet and found Tracy and Meg sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner.

  “Harry! Where have you been?” Meg demanded. Her eyes focused on the gun that was still in his hand. “Were you out shooting?”

  “Actually, I was the one being shot at,” he returned.

  Tracy went perfectly white.

  Meg’s blue eyes seemed to engulf her face.

  Damn, Harry thought. It’s this bloody headache. I’m not thinking straight. Why the hell did I blurt that out?

  “Someone tried to shoot you?” Tracy said.

  Her eyes were midnight blue in her pale face. Meg looked petrified.

  “Hell,” Harry said. He closed his eyes for a moment. “I should have kept my mouth shut.” All he wanted to do at the moment was go upstairs, take some painkillers, and get into bed. But he couldn’t walk out and leave them looking like this. “I’m fine,” he said. “It was probably just a poacher.”

  “Then why do you have a gun?” Tracy asked.

  “Like Meg said, I was out shooting.” He rubbed his forehead and avoided meeting those too-knowing blue eyes.

  “And you gave yourself a headache,” she said flatly.

  “I’m afraid I did. So, if you don’t mind, I’ll put this gun away and go upstairs to rest.”

  “Don’t you want some dinner, Harry?” Meg asked.

  “No, thank you, Meggie,” Harry replied.

  He put the gun away, but when he returned to the bottom of the staircase, Tracy was waiting for him. “You can tell me what happened while you take some medication and get into bed.”

  “I’ve already told you what happened, and I don’t need you to put me to bed,” he responded.

  She didn’t answer, just turned and went up the stairs. He sighed and followed.

  Ebony was parked in the middle of his bed, and when she saw Tracy, she arose, tail standing straight up, and glared at the intruder.

  “Go take a pill,” Tracy told him.

  He went into his bathroom, shook two prescription pills from a plastic bottle, and washed them down with water. When he returned to the bedroom, Tracy was sitting in one of his fireside chairs, and she and Ebony were regarding each other warily. He went to take the other chair, and Ebony immediately came to claim her spot on his lap. He automatically began to pet her.

  “Tell me everything,” Tracy said.

  He told her about the phone call and his trip to the woods and the shots. “Someone set me up, obviously. Good thing I had the forethought to bring a gun with me; otherwise, I would have been a sitting duck.”

  “You shouldn’t have gone in the first place.”

  “Obviously I had to go. The call might have been authentic.”

  She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, and he thought, watching the movement of her wrist and forearm, that she was the most graceful woman he had ever seen. She said, “Was it just luck that caused that first shot to miss you? Or did something else happen?” Thud, thud, thud, went the pain in his head.

  “What else could have happened?” he asked.

  “I’m asking you. It just seems to me that if someone went to such trouble to set you up, he would have been certain he could make his shot.”

  His hand stilled on Ebony’s fur. He looked at Tracy, and for the first time he fully understood that he was incapable of lying to Tracy. There was some link between them that made it impossible.

  Moaw!

  His hand began to stroke Ebony again, and he said to Tracy, “A very odd thing happened, so odd that I can scarcely believe it myself.”

  She nodded, as if this was the reply she had expected. “Someone pushed me. It happened a split second before I heard the shot. I fell flat on my face, and the bullet went over my head.”

  Silence fell as she reflected on t
his disclosure. Then she said quietly, “Do' you know who pushed you, Harry?”

  He shook his head. “That’s what is so weird. Whoever it was disappeared. I never saw him, and I never heard him. There was only the push.”

  “Do you think it was a man who pushed you?”

  “From the strength of that push? Yes, I’m sure it was a man.”

  He had not switched on a lamp, but her skin glowed like pure porcelain in the dimness. She said, a little tentatively, “Harry… I can’t help thinking that Charles was shot to death in those very same woods.”

  For some reason, his heart began to race. He said between his teeth, “What does that have to do with anything?”

  She leaned toward him, hands loosely clasped on her lap. “I know you’ve said there are no ghosts at Silverbridge, but maybe you’re wrong, Harry. Maybe there is a ghost here, a benign ghost, and he saved you from the same tragedy that happened to him.”

  His heart beat faster, and the pounding of the headache beat with it. “Are you saying that the ghost of Charles saved my life?”

  Her white teeth sank into her lower lip. “I suppose it sounds silly.”

  Ghost of Charles, ghost of Charles, the words thudded in his brain to the rhythm of his heartbeat and his headache. “It sounds more than silly,” he said. “It sounds insane.”

  She smoothed a crease from her camel-colored slacks. “It may sound that way, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

  Unwillingly his mind returned to the afternoon when he had been watching the filming and a scene from the past had interposed itself upon the present. He saw again Charles’s golden head as he bent to say something to the auburn-haired girl in the white dress he was dancing with.

  He looked into Tracy’s eyes, and demanded, “Have you seen something?”

  She stared back at him, then she nodded.

  He swallowed. “Are you serious?”

  “Very serious. I began to see them as soon as I arrived at Silverbridge.”

  “See whom?”

  “Charles and Isabel.”

  He inhaled deeply. “Who the hell is Isabel?”

  “She was governess to Charles’s children. She looked very much like me, just as you look very much like Charles.”

  That image of the girl in the white dress floated into his mind once more. He said roughly, “I can’t believe we are actually sitting here talking about ghosts.”

  “I know.” Her expression was somber. “But I also know what I have seen, Harry. I saw Charles’s ghost before I saw his portrait in your office, and the image I saw looked exactly the same as the portrait. How could I have known how he looked if I had never seen a picture of him?”

  Thud, thud, went his head. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve seen them a number of times,” she said, leaning forward. “It’s almost as if they’re enacting a little play for me. Charles was in love with Isabel, and his wife found out and said Isabel had to leave. Charles made plans to send her to stay with a cousin in America. He was going to follow her, but he was killed before he could do so.”

  He said slowly, “Isabel’s hair didn’t have any gold in it, and her nose was straight.”

  Her eyes widened. “Yes.” Her hands tightened into fists. “You have seen something, then!”

  “Jesus,” he said. “This is unbelievable.”

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  He told her about the dancing scene, and when he had finished they stared at each other in silence. At last Tracy said in a small voice, “When I first saw you, I felt as if I knew you.”

  “Yes,” he said. “I felt the same.”

  She drew herself up, as if preparing for battle. “What do you think it means, Harry?”

  “I don’t know. It’s… creepy.”

  “I think it’s happening for a purpose. I think that once we find out who killed Charles, we will know who is trying to kill you.”

  “Jesus,” he said again.

  “I think that Charles and Isabel are trying to help us have the happy ending that they were denied.”

  He stared at her, and said slowly, “I have never believed in ghosts.”

  “I never did either, until I saw them,” she returned.

  Thud, thud, thud. “I suppose it is difficult to deny something we both have seen.”

  She nodded solemnly.

  “Somebody did push me,” he reiterated. “I’m not mistaken about that. I can still feel the hand on my back.”

  Abruptly Tracy stood up. “You look like a ghost yourself.” She came over to his chair, bent, and kissed his forehead. “Go to bed. We’ll worry about this in the morning.”

  He turned his head and buried his face between her breasts. “Tracy,” he said.

  She enclosed him in her arms. “I love you,” she replied. “I love you, and we will figure this mess out together.”

  He shuddered. “God, I hope so.” Her breasts were so soft. She smelled of roses. “Don’t leave,” he said.

  Ebony had leaped off Harry’s lap when Tracy approached, and she jumped on the bed and gave one sharp moaw.

  Tracy laughed. “Ebony’s just given me my marching orders, and she’s right. You need to sleep. We’ll talk again in the morning.”

  “Who said anything about talking?” he muttered. But the pills were beginning to work. The thudding in his head was lessening, and his eyelids were feeling very heavy.

  “Good night,” Tracy said, placed a kiss on the top of his aching head, disengaged herself, and went to the door.

  Within minutes, Harry and Ebony were asleep.

  25

  When Harry awoke the following morning, his clock told him it was too late to pay a visit to Tracy. Muttering to himself in frustration, he dressed and was about to go downstairs for breakfast when someone knocked on his door. It was Tony.

  “May I speak to you, Harry?”

  He looked at his younger brother, who was dressed in perfectly cut tan pants and a sky-blue sweater, and said, “I need a cup of coffee, first. Come downstairs with me. We can talk in my office.”

  He collected his coffee from the kitchen, which was empty except for Mrs. Wilson and the dogs, and led Tony into his office. He took a seat at his desk, so he was facing the portrait of Charles, and Tony sat in the old leather chair on the other side of the desk. Millie and Marshal took up their usual postures on either side of him.

  Harry took a sip. “I hope you aren’t going to start again about that bloody golf course.”

  “This is the last time, Harry.” There was an unusually grim line around Tony’s flexible mouth. “If you don’t agree to sell now, Percy is going to pull out of the deal and build his hotel somewhere else.”

  “Good. That should get Mauley off my back.” Harry took another sip.

  Tony slowly shook his head. “I don’t get you, Harry. I really don’t. You don’t have the money to rebuild the stable according to English Heritage specifications. You don’t have the money to buy a new car. And yet, you turn your back on a fortune. It doesn’t make sense to me.”

  Harry leaned back in his chair and said mildly, “How did you know about the E.H. specifications?”

  “You told me.”

  “No, I did not.”

  Tony shrugged. “Well then, I must have heard it from Meg.”

  Harry put his coffee cup down on the desk and asked bluntly, “Tony, did Mauley bribe that wretched Howles to force me to rebuild with the original materials?”

  Tony’s eyes were perfectly blank. “What an extraordinary question. Of course not. Mauley is a respectable businessman, not a crook.” He shifted in his chair. “Besides, I didn’t think one could bribe an E.H. officer. They’re all so bloody self-righteous.”

  “I didn’t know you had ever had any dealings with them.”

  “I know about them from you.” Tony’s eyes blazed momentarily bluer. “Good God, Harry, next you’ll be accusing Mauley of burning down your stable!”

  Harry returned calmly, “Som
eone did, and Mauley is the only person I can think of who might profit from the fire.”

  Tony’s eyes flattened, and his voice grew colder. “I sincerely hope you are not including me in this accusation?”

  Harry steepled his fingers and regarded them with interest. “Something very unpleasant is going on, Tony. Besides the stable fire, there have been three attempts on my life.”

  Tony jumped to his feet. “On your life? Good God, Harry, I don’t believe this! Now you’re accusing me and Mauley of trying to murder you?” Tony moved behind the leather chair, as if to use it as a shield against Harry, and rested his hands on its back.

  Harry looked up from his fingers. “Someone is.”

  “Well it’s not me!” Tony’s jaw jutted out. “It’s true that I want you to sell the land, but I’m not prepared to kill you in order to get it. What the hell were these attempts anyway? I know you think someone fiddled with your brakes, but I’m not ready to buy that story. I think Ian is covering his own backside.”

  “Someone tried to run me down in the hospital parking lot. That was the second attempt. The third came when someone lured me out to the lake with a fake message from Tracy and almost succeeded in shooting me.”

  “Are you serious?” Tony looked shocked.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” Harry flattened his hands on the desk and leaned toward his brother. “I can’t prove anything about the murder attempts, but, if I can prove that Mauley bribed the E.H. officer, then I think I can get the Secretary of State for the Environment to reverse Howles’s ruling about rebuilding. Will you help me do that, Tony?”

  Tony thrust his fingers through his perfectly brushed hair. “Let me be clear about this. You’re asking me to help you catch Mauley out in a bribe? I’m working for him, for God’s sake!”

  Harry lifted an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were on salary already.”

  “Well I am,” Tony snapped. “And I hardly think it’s ethical for me to set traps for my employer.” He paused. “Besides, I don’t believe that Mauley bribed anyone.”

  “I think he did. And I hardly think it is ethical for your employer to try to bankrupt me in order to get his greedy hands on my land,” Harry flung back.