Another sigh escaped his lips. He closed his eyes as if he could block out the reality of the question by refusing to see. Yet when he opened them again, she saw a bitter resolve written there.
‘Although, at present, I have the means to communicate … over the past 140 years there have been little more than 100 days, perhaps fewer, when I could be seen as well as heard. Few believed me. Most ran in fear of the dreaded Stanthorpe ghost. The rest of the time my words are but a murmur in the dark. I cannot touch, cannot sleep, cannot even rest. Would death not be preferable to that?’
He didn’t wait for her answer and she didn’t try to call him back. Her stomach twisted with an ache that reminded her of the hollow pain of Frank’s betrayal. Yet this was different, because she wasn’t feeling it for herself – she felt it for him. If all John said was true, then he’d already endured hell for a very long time.
As she went to gather her purse, she realised that in a matter of a week, she had gone from total disbelief to allowing the possibility that he did, indeed, speak the truth. She didn’t quite understand how or why she’d changed, but she so wanted to believe him, believe in him. All kinds of strange emotions were stirring within her. Pity was high on the list, of course, but also other feelings, nameless feelings she thought had died along with her marriage.
She needed to think, long and hard, but she knew one thing: if he spoke the truth and it was within her power to help him, she would. She had planned to read his journal tonight, but waiting another day wouldn’t hurt, especially if it meant they might find Edward’s journal instead.
As she passed by the mirror she stopped and said, ‘John, I’ll try to get back as early as I can. After I do, we’ll go searching in the passages.’
‘Thank you,’ she said as Richard poured her a glass of juice.
‘Are you sure you won’t have any champagne? It is excellent and complements the coq au vin very well.’
She shook her head as he placed the glass on the dining table before her. ‘No, yesterday’s gave me a terrible migraine so I think I’ll remain alcohol free for a while.’
He sat opposite and slid a platter of pâté closer to her. ‘I do apologise if that was my fault. You should have said something.’
‘It wasn’t,’ she reassured. ‘Sometimes champagne does it and other times it has no effect at all. Perhaps some have chemicals or preservatives that I’m allergic to,’ she lifted her shoulders in a slight shrug. ‘I’ve never been able to work it out.’
‘Well, I’m glad you were able to make dinner.’ The oven timer dinged and he stood. ‘This is my specialty … I hope you like it,’ he said as he donned his oven mitts. He didn’t quite look at home in the kitchen; something told her this was a show for her benefit.
She watched him fuss about with serving dishes and a platter of steamed rice.
‘Hmm, smells wonderful,’ she said as he ladled chicken-filled sauce over the rice.
Oddly, a light caught in his eyes like a kid who’d just been awarded an ‘A’ from his favourite teacher.
‘So, how is the ghost-hunting coming along?’ he asked as she took her first mouthful. ‘I still say that growl I heard was him,’ he added, darting her a quick look.
‘I’m not sure what it was though I have to admit there are some very strange sounds to be heard in that house.’ She placed her fork on the edge of her plate. ‘I did wonder whether you might have remembered anything more about the journal? Barnsley says that the ghost has asked about it in the past. If I could find that … it might be a big help. Nancy tells me they’d like my article printed in time for the grand opening. That doesn’t leave much leeway.’
Richard shook his head in the negative then his face lit up as if a thought struck him. ‘There are a few crates of papers and books here in the coach house – perhaps it’s amongst those. We could take a look together, maybe on Monday afternoon?’
‘I’m not sure of my movements for Monday, I had intended to head up to London and collect some documents I ordered at the National Archives.’
‘Well, that might actually figure in with my plans.’ He took a piece of chicken between his teeth and chewed thoughtfully. ‘I need to be in London in the next week or so. What do you say we head off very early and then when we’re each finished with our business, we can come back here and take a look at those crates?’
Kelly frowned in thought. Part of the reason she had intended to go to London was to canvass the rest of the talent agencies – which, if her last visit was any indication, would probably take most of the day. But then again, hadn’t she decided only an hour ago that she was going to try to help John find release rather than continue to try to prove his presence a hoax?
She worried her lower lip wondering whether she had allowed her heart to rule her head. Perhaps she’d caved in too soon. After all she went through with Frank she’d lost faith in her gut instincts. Right now her gut was telling her John was precisely who he said he was. She’d been wrong about Frank. Was she wrong about this too?
‘Can I let you know in the morning?’ she said.
By the time they’d finished dinner Kelly had decided that Richard was just too charming for his own good. He’d made her laugh with his stories about his school days, and though John had warned her against him, she found she genuinely liked being in his company.
‘Shall we eat our pudding by the fire?’ he asked as he cleared the last of the dinner things.
She patted her belly. ‘I don’t think I could fit dessert in.’
‘Of course you can – it’s trifle – everybody can fit in a little trifle.’
She drew her brows together. ‘Sounds very fattening.’
‘Exactly what the doctor ordered. But we can wait a little while. I’ll just put on the coffee, you do want coffee?’ he asked turning back to her.
‘Definitely.’
As Richard organised the coffee, Kelly wandered about his living room looking at the few knick-knacks he had scattered about. The room was dominated by the giant television that sat opposite a four-seater couch in red leather. On a shelf above the television stood a DVD library that comprised mainly action movies. There were a few car racing disks as well as a history of Ascot. She smiled to herself. Men were the same around the world: sports and gambling.
Just as she took a seat on the couch, she heard a rapid pounding on the door. ‘Do you want me to answer it?’ she called.
‘No,’ he said as he came back into the room with a perplexed expression. ‘I don’t know who that could be.’
Curiously, as soon as he opened the door, he stepped outside and shut it hard behind him. Kelly heard voices … a man speaking quickly and urgently … and then Richard’s deeper tones. She didn’t want to snoop but the other man’s voice seemed to get more and more agitated and she found herself edging closer to the closed door in an attempt to hear.
Suddenly the other man shouted and she heard a thump, followed by the sound of a scuffle.
With her heart in her mouth Kelly grabbed the knob and yanked the door open. The other man had run off and, at her feet, Richard lay rubbing his cheek. She crouched beside him. ‘Richard? Are you all right?’
From out of the darkness a harsh voice yelled, ‘Remember what I said!’ Then an engine roared to life.
Glaring at the tail lights of the car disappearing down the lane, Richard’s eyes held a potent anger she’d never seen before. A small cut on the corner of his lip had begun to bleed.
‘Richard?’ she said again, her hand trembling as she reached a hand toward him.
After a second he shook his head again and looked at her. ‘Nothing – it’s nothing.’
‘It’s not nothing – you’re bleeding!’
He wiped the corner of his mouth and looked down at the blood on his fingers with a scowl. ‘It’s nothing.’
He let her help him up and then he dusted himself off. Once back inside he excused himself. ‘I’ll just go to the bathroom and clean up. I’ll be back in a momen
t.’
Kelly could do nothing but wait, so she went to the kitchen and finished making their coffee.
‘Sugar?’ she asked when he re-entered the room. He held a cotton pad to the side of his mouth, highlighting the shadow of a bruise already beginning to form below his cheek.
‘No – I’ll have straight black. I think I need it.’ He took the coffee she handed him and headed back into the living room. After checking that the bleeding had stopped, he tossed the cotton onto a side table, then sat and patted the seat beside him. ‘C’mon, sit. I’m sorry about that.’
‘Who was that man and why did he hit you?’
He averted his gaze and shook his head. ‘He’s a local. I think he was drunk. I don’t really know what he wanted.’
‘Shouldn’t you call the police?’
‘No. There’s no real harm done.’ He rubbed his cheek again before taking a hesitant sip of his coffee. ‘Thanks, Kelly.’
‘What did I do?’
He took her hand and smoothed his fingers over hers, then looked deeply into her eyes. ‘You were here … that makes me feel better.’
She glanced away, wishing she could withdraw her hand but he held it tight. His fingers were soft and warm and yet there was something disquieting …
‘I suppose I probably should go,’ she said, slipping her hand from his. ‘You really ought to get some rest.’
‘Nonsense,’ he edged closer, sliding his arm along the back of the couch until it rested behind her head. He loomed over her, a smile playing at his lips. ‘It’s just a small bruise … besides, we haven’t had our pudding.’ The last he said in a whisper, as his mouth moved towards hers.
God! I’m not ready for this!
She wriggled backward as far as the arm of the couch would allow, suddenly certain that there was no way she wanted him to kiss her. ‘I’m not really hungry – dinner was wonderful but very filling. I really think I should go.’
Richard drew his brows together. ‘Nonsense. It’s still early …’ Again he moved closer as if he meant to kiss her. ‘I’ve been hoping to get you alone since that very first evening we met. I’m sure you realise that I find you very attractive.’ He reached up a hand to gently cup her cheek and though she held herself rigid, he slowly brought his mouth against hers.
His lips were soft and fleshy. Too warm. Too practised. Too …
She analysed the kiss as if she were above herself, watching them, not really feeling the contact. Inside she just felt cold. She didn’t respond in any way and as his tongue tried to force entrance to her mouth, she twisted away.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered as she stood and straightened her dress, purposely avoiding his penetrating blue gaze. How she wished she hadn’t worn these clothes! Everything about them said she was ready and willing. And she was far from it. When he’d kissed her she had felt nothing at all.
She sensed him behind her. He laid a hand on her shoulder and whispered in her ear. ‘I know I’m moving fast, but if you give me a chance …’ He tried to draw her back against him. She could feel his warm breath against her neck but the goosebumps that rose on her skin were from dread, not arousal.
Wrapping her arms around herself like a shield … she stepped away from his embrace. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’ She looked up and for just an instant she thought she saw Frank staring back at her. Richard’s eyes held that same darkness, the same greed-filled lust that she had learned to recognise in Frank’s determined gaze in those last weeks of her marriage.
Shaking her head, she knew she needed to get some distance and perspective. ‘I think you’d better take me home.’
He gave a weary sigh before nodding. ‘If that is what you want.’
In silence he fetched his keys and led her out to the Jeep. It had started to drizzle and a shiver rippled up her spine as she waited for him to unlock the passenger door. Neither spoke for the short, half-mile trip.
When they were nearly back at Stanthorpe he said, ‘My offer to take you to London is still open. I’ll call early on Monday morning to see if you want to come along.’
At the back door he pulled up and switched off the engine. It had started to rain harder and the patter of the drops sounded very loud in the silence of the cabin.
‘I hope you won’t be put off by what happened tonight,’ he ran a hand across his bruised jaw. ‘I don’t normally get bashed on my own doorstep … I like you, Kelly – I like you a lot … and I really hope you’ll give us the chance to get to know each other. If I seem forward it is only that it’s been a long time since a woman has kindled my feelings like you do. Please don’t hold that against me.’
She faced him, not quite knowing what to say. While he might be attractive to most women, there was nothing about him that stirred her emotions and no matter what Nancy said, she couldn’t bring herself to have a casual affair simply to make her ego feel better. It wouldn’t make anything better. It would only make her feel cheap and used … exactly how Frank ultimately made her feel. She stared at Richard for a long minute before she could answer him. Was she being irrational? Had Frank’s actions truly scarred her for life?
In the end she thinned her lips, saying, ‘I’ll think about what you’ve said. But I can’t promise anything.’
Before he could say another word she climbed from the Jeep and ran the few yards to the back door. She tripped slightly as she reached it, her heel catching on a bicycle pump that someone had obviously abandoned by the door. She picked it up and set it aside.
As soon as she shut the door behind her, she leaned against the wood and let out a breath, waiting to hear the Jeep’s engine start again. Her heart hammered in her chest until it did. She didn’t know why but it crossed her mind that she had just escaped something dangerous.
Once the roar of the engine faded, she felt calmer and took the servants’ stair up to the second floor. As she passed the linen closet, she grabbed a towel, dabbed away the raindrops that clung to her face and wiped at her dampened hair.
As she opened the door to her room she sensed him waiting. John greeted her with a crooked smile that she felt all the way down to her toes. For just a second, she prayed he was indeed the fraud she first suspected because that might give her the chance to meet him face-to-face. The chance to touch him. And know him. In other circumstances a brief affair with the man before her would have been a real possibility. She didn’t understand why she should feel attracted to him when she’d just rejected another gorgeous man who’d offered himself in no uncertain terms. Perhaps, deep down, she was protecting herself. Fantasising about a man she could not touch was safe. There was no way she could become involved … no way she could be hurt again.
‘Did you enjoy your evening?’ he enquired.
She drew her brows together. ‘Actually, no, I didn’t.’
He grinned.
‘You don’t have to look so happy about it.’
‘Ah, but Kelly, I cannot hide my feelings on the matter of Ditchley, whether the man in question is my cousin or the person who currently wears that name. I do not trust him, and I believe he will abuse your friendship should the need arise.’
‘Hmm,’ was all she said as she went to the writing desk and picked up the parcel containing the mirror. After unwrapping it, she brandished it before him.
‘See, I told you it’d be back soon.’
‘Please accept my gratitude,’ he sketched a slight bow. ‘It is somewhat distressing to know that my means for communication can so easily diminish. Would it be too much to ask that you request the mirror in the pantry be restored to its place in the small salon? At present it faces a wall and is therefore quite useless.’
‘I guess,’ she replied as she placed the mirror on the bed. ‘I’ve told Tom and Nancy a little bit about you so I’m sure they’d want to help in any way they can.’
He looked at her with surprise but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.
‘Listen, I meant what I said about searching. Just give me few minute
s to change my clothes then we can go and do a bit of snooping. Maybe we can find the journal tonight.’
Again he grinned and she felt unaccountably happy to see his eyes sparkling with such joy. While she knew she might be setting herself up for a major hurt, right now she needed to believe in him.
Dressed in a warm sweater, jeans and a pair of dusty old Nikes, she emerged from the closet ready for action. She’d tied her hair in a ponytail and washed off the layer of make-up she’d worn for Richard’s benefit.
‘Okay,’ she said as she laid the blueprints of the house on the floor before him, ‘where do you think we should start?’
With a serious expression, he stared at the plans for several minutes. ‘I am aware that you would rather not enter the secret passages at night but I do think it is the most likely place to find the journal.
‘Within the passages are small closets and secret places where objects of value might be hidden. As far as I am aware, no one has explored all the passages for over a century.’
She grimaced. Spiders and bugs and cobwebs – just what she needed. But then again, it wouldn’t matter when she went in there, they’d still be waiting for her. ‘I suppose, if it is dark anyway, it really doesn’t make any difference if it is daytime or not.’ She glanced up. ‘Are you sure it’ll be safe?’
‘That, I cannot guarantee. I have not entered the passages since I was a boy when my father brought me to Stanthorpe to visit with my great uncle, Francis, who was in residence at that time. None of those who have attempted to help me through the years have dared to go in … and in truth, I am not certain they have not been blocked.
‘So the decision is yours, Kelly. I can guide you once inside, but beyond that, you know as much as I.’
With a shrug and a sigh, she said, ‘What the hell – nothing ventured and all that.’
When she glanced up and saw his bewildered expression, she laughed. ‘That was a “yes”.’
‘I do not deserve such generosity. Words cannot express the depth of my gratitude, Kelly.’ This time his smile seemed to make the air about him glow and the pit of her belly did a strange flip then began to heat. How was it that this man could stir feelings from a distance that Richard could not stir with a kiss? She studied his face and felt a sudden lurch inside.
Secret Reflection Page 15