‘Ah, Ms Reid, this is Edgar from Hollingworth Security. I have the test results on the hand mirror you sent us. As far as we can tell without damaging the item, it contains nothing but silver paint, ivory, embroidered velvet, cotton wadding and glass.’
Kelly’s brow puckered. ‘That’s all?’
‘I’m afraid so, Ms Reid. We did a backscatter xray plus sonic and magnetic imaging tests. The split velvet inlay at the back allowed us some measure of internal view and we could find no evidence for any sort of wiring or electrical equipment.’ The man’s voice slowed a little before asking, ‘What exactly were you looking for, Ms Reid? If you could provide more specific details we could make a more qualified judgement.’
Kelly had deliberately given very sketchy reasons for wanting the mirror tested. She knew when the technicians had swept the place earlier that they thought she was some kind of nutcase. If she’d told them she saw a ghost’s face in the mirror, she was certain they’d be telling the local constables or someone equally official who’d cart her off in case she became a menace to the community.
‘That’s okay, Edgar. It was nothing really. Please have the item couriered back to me, along with your account. And thank you.’
She switched off the phone and stared back at the mirror. He’d disappeared again. He hadn’t shown his face since he’d frightened Richard the day before and she’d wondered whether the actor had taken his weekend break and wouldn’t resume his work for a day or two.
Going to the computer she called up her browser and Googled a list of local document authenticators. The third name down the list was Barnsley, which surprised her. She had thought him just a lay historian, but according to the website listing for the National Historical Society, he was one of the foremost authenticators in the country. With a grin she again picked up her mobile phone.
‘Mr Barnsley, please,’ she said when the woman at the other end answered. ‘Kelly Reid – I met with Mr Barnsley several days ago.’
A moment later the older gentleman came on the line.
‘Ms Reid? How pleasant to hear from you so soon. How may I help you?’
‘Well …’ Kelly explained briefly and made an appointment to call at Barnsley’s the next day. Just as she was folding down her laptop she heard a familiar ‘Ahem’ from the direction of the mirror.
As she stood and moved to stand directly before him she felt the heat stinging her cheeks. After last night’s dream, it embarrassed her just to look at him.
‘What have you done with my mother’s looking-glass?’ he demanded with arms crossed and chin raised imperiously.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You have taken it off the estate. Why?’
‘How do you know it’s gone?’
‘I tried to view you through it and found myself suspended in absolute darkness. Complete emptiness. The last time I experienced such a sensation was when the viscount’s father had sold the contents of the main guest bedroom – the room Elizabeth occupied before she—’ he paused and swallowed. ‘The dressing table held a large cheval mirror that I frequented whenever the room was occupied. Once a mirror is removed beyond the old estate boundary … I cannot see through it.’
Kelly considered how to respond. Telling him nothing would get her nowhere but how much could she afford to reveal? She glanced across at the carefully folded letter upon the small writing table and decided to start there.
‘I sent the mirror to be repaired,’ she stated as a beginning. ‘I dropped it and part of the backing came away. It will be returned tomorrow or the next day.’
He nodded slightly, though he watched her like he didn’t quite trust her to tell him the truth.
‘Tell me, John, do you know of a gentleman named William Plunkett?’
He scowled. ‘Madam, William Plunkett was no gentleman.’
Kelly’s eyebrows rose slightly. ‘Oh?’
‘Well you might say “Oh”,’ he said as he thrust his fists onto his hips, every inch the indignant male. ‘For some years Plunkett made his living as my cousin’s valet but he was shown, in reality, to be a trickster and a thief. He escorted Elizabeth to Stanthorpe in Edward’s absence. I remember she disliked the man intensely and asked that I order him from the house once she arrived though she refused to tell me why. He was an uncouth fellow so I suspect his behavior on the journey somehow offended her. As I recall, after … after Elizabeth’s death … Plunkett aided Edward in his plan to imprison me.
‘Why do you ask about Plunkett?’
‘When I dropped the hand mirror, I found something in the back – a note from Plunkett.’
John’s eyes shot up, a look of fear passed briefly across his face before he masked it. ‘What did the note say?’
Kelly moved to the writing table and retrieved the note before facing him. She’d read the thing so many times she could almost recite the words by heart, but she deliberately took her time unfolding it, all the while watching John’s reactions from the corner of her eye. Tension radiated from him.
With one eye on John, she read Plunkett’s missive slowly. He showed no discernible reaction. When she finished she looked him full in the face but he didn’t speak.
‘So – is it true?’
‘Is what true?’
‘Did you send all the servants away? Did you make sure you were completely alone?’ she shook the letter before him. ‘The most logical inference I can take from this is that you were having an affair with your cousin’s wife.’
He closed his eyes, threw back his head and made an anguished sound deep in his throat. For a long moment she thought he wasn’t going to answer her. But when he again looked at her, his face had filled with a bitter disgust. ‘I loved Elizabeth like a sister. There was never ANY impropriety between Elizabeth and me!’
With that, he vanished.
Kelly sighed. So much for that idea.
It is always said that pregnant women glow but to Kelly’s mind Nancy appeared positively beatific. She was sure that if she looked closely she’d be able to see a halo of light surrounding her friend. Nancy sat across the room and swirled the ice cubes in her orange juice so they gave a rhythmic clink, while she rubbed her still flat belly and grinned as if she’d just won the lottery. And in effect she had. She and Tom had been to hell and back in their attempt to have children, and now that dream was about to come true. Well … in about seven months’ time.
‘Have you thought about names?’ Kelly asked, encouraging her friend’s euphoria.
‘No, not really. For a boy, I’ve always been a bit partial to John … ‘
Kelly’s eyes widened. ‘John? Why on earth John?’
Nancy turned a perplexed gaze on Kelly. ‘Why not? It’s a strong name … and sounds good alongside Wentworth. But then again …’ she tilted her head to the side, gazing at nothing, with a dreamy expression on her face, ‘I’ve always liked Daniel, too. And then there’s Ryan …’
Kelly began to laugh when she realised that there was no special significance to Nancy’s first suggestion of John. Her suspicious mind had been, as usual, working overtime.
‘It’s this house, you know,’ Nancy declared dreamily. ‘I said to Tom on the very first day that this place felt magical. If Tom’s brother wasn’t already named Rick, I might even consider calling the baby Richard in honour of the place.’
Tom bustled into the room balancing a platter of crackers, fruit and a variety of cheeses in one hand and a gigantic bottle of champagne in the other. Kelly jumped up to relieve him of the platter.
‘Sorry, luv,’ he said to his wife with a broad grin, ‘Kel and I will have to do the celebrating,’ he waved the champagne in the air as he shook his head sadly, ‘no alcohol for expectant mothers.’
Nancy pretended to pout but Kelly could tell she didn’t give a damn for champagne or anything else.
‘So,’ Tom said as he handed Kelly the flutes and proceeded to pop the cork from the champagne bottle, ‘have you had any thoughts about our ghost, K
el?’ He poured two glasses, handed one to Kelly, then went to cuddle up beside his wife.
Nancy turned in the chair to allow him room. ‘Yes, Kel, you haven’t mentioned a thing so far. Has he made his presence felt?’
Kelly sighed deeply. Now would be the time to come clean. Surely Tom and Nancy would give up the charade with a baby part of the mix. She studied their faces in turn, searching for any sign that they already knew what she was about to tell them but for the life of her all she found was innocent expectation.
‘Well – I have heard a few things …’ she began, still watching them intently.
Nancy nudged Tom with her elbow. ‘I told you I heard voices in there,’ she turned to Kelly and edged forward in her chair, a look of muted excitement crossing her face. ‘You were talking to the ghost, weren’t you – I thought so. What has he told you?’
Kelly stood and walked toward the window, not wishing to see the eagerness in her friends’ eyes. ‘I still don’t believe it isn’t a hoax,’ she stated firmly as she turned back. ‘The bill for the technical inspections is likely to be expensive, but I needed to make sure that it wasn’t done with trickery.’
Again she scrutinised their faces but still there was no hint of complicity. She wished she could be sure! Having friends she could trust would make her investigations much easier, and God knew she would relish the help. She looked away and drew a deep breath. Decision time.
‘Okay. I don’t know a great deal at this stage …’ she glanced up sharply, ‘but the technicians swept very thoroughly and have assured me that there are no projections of any kind in that room. I guess I must believe their report, unless they are on someone’s payroll – and I can’t see how that is possible since I called them in from London on the recommendation of a friend of mine in the States.
‘That said … I’m not yet willing to concede your ghost isn’t a fraud. Richard has conveniently been around several times when the ghost has appeared – something I find a little too coincidental for comfort.’
‘So you’ve actually seen the ghost?’ Nancy asked, her expression incredulous. ‘Ooh – I’d love to see him. Can you get him to appear for us too?’
Shaking her head, Kelly sighed. ‘If what he says is to be believed, he can only be seen by the person who occupies his bedroom.’
‘Darn. What does he look like – is he like that ghost in that old movie … the Canterville Ghost? That movie always made me cry.’
Kelly shook her head. ‘Nothing like Charles Laughton … or Patrick Stewart, for that matter. No … he looks a little like a pirate … black trousers, flowing white shirt, longish dark hair, arrogant expression.’
A slow grin lifted the corners of Nancy’s lips. ‘In other words, our ghost is sexy as hell!’
Tom coughed, trying to hide his laughter.
‘Sexy?’ Kelly shrugged in an attempt to appear nonchalant though she could feel her cheeks warming. ‘I haven’t noticed. Interestingly, he claims he isn’t a ghost at all. He says he was cast into a kind of netherworld by some sort of sorcery.
‘Right now, I am concentrating my investigations on trying to substantiate his story. It’s early days yet—’
A rapid tap on the door brought her up short; she didn’t want to share the story with anyone else at this stage. She turned toward the door and frowned when Richard appeared almost as if on cue.
‘Sorry for the interruption, Martin said you were all in here.’ He eased into the room and, noting the champagne bottle, raised his brows in question. ‘Are we celebrating something?’
Tom stood and straightened to his full height before strutting across the room like a proud rooster. He held out his hand, inviting Richard to shake it. ‘You can be the first to know,’ he glanced sheepishly across at Kelly before continuing, ‘Kel knows, but she’s family.’
Kelly raised her glass in his direction and smiled her appreciation.
‘What – you’ve seen the ghost?’
Nancy shot her husband a warning look.
‘Nothing like that, my man. Nancy and I are expecting our first child.’
Richard began to shake Tom’s hand vigorously. ‘That is pleasant news! Pleasant news indeed. Will this affect the opening date of the hotel?’
Tom filled another flute and handed it to Richard.
‘I don’t see why,’ Nancy scoffed. ‘I’m healthy as a horse and we can get the staff to do the physical work. Most of our people will be back from their training next week. Plus we have employed a couple of experienced staff from Abingdon. They start work in the morning.’
Richard nodded. ‘Yes, Deanna told me you interviewed both her and Sally the evening before last.’
Kelly’s eyes shot up. She’d caught Deanna in her room a couple of nights ago!
‘Yes,’ Nancy said. ‘The girls asked for late interviews because they had to close up at the bakery. They didn’t get away until after eight.’
The interview still didn’t explain why Deanna had been in her room. As best she could reckon, it had been well after nine when John had convinced her to go to investigate the Dowager’s Suite. Kelly worried the inside of her cheek with her tongue wondering whether she ought to say anything to Nancy and Tom about Deanna’s late night escapade. But then again, perhaps she should wait and observe the girl a little. If John’s appearance was a hoax, which she still desperately wanted to believe, and the girl was an accomplice, what better way to catch them out than having one of the players right under her nose?
‘I have a reason for disturbing your celebration,’ Richard said. He brandished a bright orange flyer, which he handed to Tom. ‘The polo pre-season final is on tomorrow at Cirencester. I wanted to invite you as my guests. There’ll be a marquee with refreshments, music and the like. The details are there. Please say you can come.’
Tom grinned. ‘Would love to come, Richard. Some fresh air would do both these ladies a world of good.’
Kelly would have growled with frustration but, for once, Richard’s manoeuvering played right into her hands. While she had no idea where Cirencester was, she was sure Tom wouldn’t mind a short detour to drop the letter in to Barnsley for authentication once she explained. She drained her glass and stood, hiccupping noisily. Too late, she clamped a hand over her mouth. ‘Oops – champagne does that to me sometimes. It’s been a long day so I think I’ll turn in.’
‘But—’ Nancy began.
‘We’ll talk more in the morning,’ Kelly promised with a wink. ‘Goodnight.’
She kissed Nancy’s cheek and gave Tom a big hug as she passed.
‘Don’t I get one of those?’ Richard asked with a mock leer.
She flashed him a cheeky smile. ‘Maybe when I know you better.’ She’d meant it as a joke but the look in his eyes promised that he had every intention of making that happen.
Omigod – what have I done now? Knowing she had no gracious way to discourage him, she simply repeated her ‘goodnight’ and escaped into the hall.
As she climbed the staircase, John’s image appeared in the mirror at the landing.
‘What are you doing there?!’ she whispered urgently, glancing quickly over her shoulder to the open door of the salon.
‘It is one of the mirrors I can frequent. It is a fine place to watch the comings and goings. Do not be alarmed, I believe I am visible to none but you.’
She grunted, realising that she generally favoured the servants’ stairs at the back of the manor so it stood to reason she hadn’t encountered him here before.
‘I’m going to bed,’ she muttered before she headed up the second flight of stairs.
As expected John stood waiting for her when she closed the bedrooom door.
‘Are you going to tell me about Elizabeth now?’ she demanded without preamble.
‘Madam, I have already said all I intend to say on this. I killed her. I deserve whatever judgement my Maker chooses to exact. All I wish is that I get the opportunity to confront Him for my sins. That is all you need to understand
about Elizabeth.’
He crossed his arms and nodded once, then vanished.
‘I wish I could escape reality by disappearing every time someone said something I don’t like. You’re a coward, John Tarrant!’
She waited, hoping her insult would prick his ego enough to bring him back. But it seemed he was more stubborn than any man she’d ever laid eyes on.
With a sigh she headed for the bathroom. A nice long bath would soothe her frayed nerves.
He wished he could tell her. Tell her everything and ask her forgiveness. But he didn’t deserve forgiveness and he knew it.
Throughout the long night he stood vigil, watching her sleep. At times she became restless, thrashing about and whimpering and he ached to be able to comfort her, to make her demons go away. To hold her. He cursed himself for a fool as soon as the thought entered his head. He would never hold anyone again, least of all a beautiful woman like Kelly. But the yearning inside him had grown stronger. The feelings, long forgotten emotions. She beckoned, tempting him to fall in love with her, even if she wasn’t aware she did so.
It would send him to the brink of insanity and beyond. He knew it. Yet to stop, to leave, would be to condemn himself to another twenty years of oblivion at the very least. Kelly still did not quite believe him. He sensed her resistance in almost every exchange … yet there were times, moments, when he felt her beginning to waver. Five days had passed and he was no closer to finding what he sought. But she had agreed to look and she seemed resourceful as well as lovely.
He laughed to himself. He’d never encountered Edward’s ghost but he was certain the man’s shade would be somewhere watching, revelling in his discomfort. What irony Edward would see in this! To care for someone and be doomed never to be able to even touch her … he pressed his hand to the glass that separated him from her but all he felt was that cold emptiness that had been his companion for so long. Dear God! Just once … he let out a breath and turned away.
Journal of Edward James Ditchley,
Stanthorpe House, Oxfordshire, England.
March 5, 1862
My Beautiful Elizabeth, it is done. Like a frightened bird she stood beside me and shook as the vicar made us repeat our vows before God. I know He will forgive me, as indeed you must, my love. Our purpose was Divine retribution, and your murderer is suffering as he made you suffer.
Secret Reflection Page 12