The astonishment on Nancy’s face reflected the look on Tom’s.
‘You mean that Will had been getting his daughter pregnant and making her have abortions?’ Tom shook his head in amazement.
‘Deanna’s doctor has confirmed the abortions. While the doctor claims he suspected something was very much amiss, the girl refused to name the father in each instance and Montgomery paid the doctor to remain silent.
‘Will claims that he came home drunk on Sunday night. He got angry when she told him of her latest pregnancy and hit her a little too hard.
‘Do you remember when you said you smelled horse manure in the passage, Ms Reid?’ Mathieson asked, though he continued on as if he didn’t expect her to answer. ‘Will Montgomery is a horse trainer. He prepares the polo horses for several of the locals. The fingerprints on the bicycle pump belonged to Deanna, as did those on the runes.’
A number of details suddenly clicked into place in Kelly’s mind. The runes had obviously belonged to the girl. Kelly’s research on runes had shown that they were supposedly a fashionable way of casting spells and hexes and, while she’d never know for sure, it figured that the girl had left the stones in her room in order to cause mischief.
‘You were unfortunately in the right place at the wrong time, Ms Reid, but blaming you didn’t quite hold up. So Will needed to divert suspicion elsewhere.
‘He knew Deanna fancied Ditchley and since Ditchley owed a lot of money to one of the local bookies, for whom Will is also the enforcer, he decided to use the viscount as a convenient scapegoat. Will had apparently issued a payment warning to the viscount earlier on the night of the killing and once Deanna told him the news about her pregnancy … well … you know the rest.’
‘What made Montgomery confess now?’ Tom asked, his expression still one of utter incredulity.
‘Will got home from Deanna’s wake to find his younger daughter, Eithne, gone. Furious that she hadn’t made his dinner, he went in search of her and found her bike near the track that led to the coach house. He followed her and claims he found the viscount attempting to seduce the girl. In a fit of rage he attacked the viscount.
‘We had been watching Ditchley as a follow-up to Will’s allegations and when the girl went in, we thought he might have been telling the truth about the viscount and Deanna. Will arrived and beat the viscount senseless before we could intervene.’
‘Is he all right?’ Tom asked.
‘We don’t know, as yet.’
Returning his gaze to Kelly, Mathieson said, ‘So you are now free to return to the United States in a few days, Ms Reid.’
Leaning back on the hard bench, Kelly stared skyward. ‘That’s probably best,’ she murmured.
‘But you can’t go yet!’ Nancy exclaimed.
‘There’s nothing to keep me here – I’ve just about finished your story, so it can be submitted in time for tomorrow’s deadline.’ She grabbed hold of her laptop. ‘I’ll send it off this afternoon.’
Nancy looked to Tom for support. ‘But you have to stay for the opening at least. And maybe, after that, you can actually take a relaxing holiday and see some of the sights. I should be able to take a break as soon as the opening is over … maybe we can head down to London and see a few shows.’ She took hold of Kelly’s hand and laced their fingers together. ‘We haven’t had the chance to do any girlie stuff at all!’
‘I don’t know, Nance.’ She gazed into Nancy’s earnest eyes. ‘I’ll stay until after the opening … but after that … we’ll see.’
Mathieson stood. ‘Well, I’ll leave you for now. We have your statement, Ms Reid, but I might need to get a few more details over the next couple of days.’
Kelly nodded.
The gravel crunched loudly as the inspector made his way back around the building to his car.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ Tom said into the silence. ‘How could that man molest his own daughter?’
‘The world is full of crazies, Tom.’
‘You’re not kidding. And what about Richard? Do you think he was sleeping with Deanna?’
Nancy screwed her face in distaste. ‘I hope not.’
‘The inspector said he owed a bookie a lot of money,’ Tom pointed out.
‘Yeah, but there’s a big difference between a gambler and having sex with underage girls,’ Nancy replied.
Kelly kept out of their discussion. If she never saw Richard again, it would be too soon.
After submitting the story to one of the bigger syndicated newspapers that covered Britain, Kelly wandered down to the library and found an assortment of books to tide her over until she headed home. While she would have liked the idea of hanging around and playing hooky in London with Nancy, she knew the new hotel would demand most of her friend’s attention. Better to come back in a few months time, if work permitted, and spend time with her then.
When she’d originally booked her plane ticket, Kelly had left the return flight open since she didn’t know how long she’d want to stay hiding in England. Now she intended to escape back to LA and do the same thing: hide. Only this time she was hiding from an emotion far more shattering than the one that had brought her here. It was quite ironic really, only a few weeks ago she crossed the Atlantic thinking that she could never fall in love again and now she had to admit that with Frank it hadn’t been love at all. Despite the fact that she and John had never even touched, the emotional link between them had been forged so much stronger than between her and Frank, and Frank had known her more intimately than any other person alive.
And that was the worst of it. John was no longer alive and she had only his journal to help her mourn. On that terrible night when he’d disappeared from her life forever, she had, just for an instant, considered joining him. But she knew she must endure. John had endured much more pain and had done so with good grace. She needed to do the same.
Besides, she was a coward. After that short moment of lapse, she realised that taking her own life would achieve nothing.
It took a few hours online, but she eventually found a flight that would take off from Heathrow on the Friday after the hotel’s opening celebrations. A noon departure would make it easier on everyone and it gave her an extra day to recuperate should there be too much champagne drunk on Wednesday at the party. Not that she’d be drinking champagne anytime soon.
Over the next few days Kelly pitched in and helped with whatever she could to help them prepare. She needed to keep busy. That way she wouldn’t think, or remember – activities that had become a danger to her sanity. To make matters worse, every night she woke around midnight, quivering in the afterglow of another dream where her phantom lover coaxed her to orgasm; each one stronger than the last. Having her period didn’t even prevent it. If this kept up she would definitely need a therapist when she got home.
The staff of the hotel had swelled to the point that she couldn’t find a place where she could catch a few minutes alone unless she slipped up to her room. On Monday she had morning tea with Barnsley where, with the blessing of both Tom and Nancy, she handed over the journals for authentication. Although she didn’t in the least expect to learn they were fakes she maintained John’s secret, even with Barnsley. After all, with John now gone, she could prove nothing – only her heart of hearts would ever know the complete truth. Barnsley promised to return John’s journal by the opening. Nancy had told her that no matter what it was worth, historically or as a piece of Victorian memorabilia, it belonged to Kelly for as long as she chose.
To her utter shock, when Kelly arrived back in her hotel room that afternoon, she found that a new glass had been fitted to the mirror. She didn’t know what she had expected, but the replacement glass seemed to be the final closing of the door: a statement that he was lost to her forever. Again the numbness flowed over her and she stared at her reflection, imagining that she saw John standing there alongside her in all his majestic glory, gazing back at her with that look in his eyes that told her more eloquently than word
s that he loved her.
On the evening before the hotel opening, Nancy, Tom and Kelly sat down to a late, but blessedly quiet, dinner.
‘I feel like I always did the night before I had to go back to boarding school,’ Nancy said as she placed her empty wine glass in front of her husband so he could refill it with blackcurrant juice. ‘I’m excited, but I’m also dreading tomorrow. Any kind of freedom we might have had will be over for quite a while.’
‘You might think like that, Nance, but I will be very glad to get things underway. I want to see the results of all our recent hard work and I really want to prove to a couple of my nay-saying colleagues from London that we can make a go of this place even if we aren’t on the usual tourist routes. It’s been a gamble from the start, but we have a full house for the first two weeks and there seems to be a lot of interest since Kel’s article about John came out.’
‘I told you so,’ Nancy said, giving him a gentle dig in the ribs with her elbow. ‘People love a ghost story – and with John’s story being so poignant, every romantic who read the article has decided they want to catch a glimpse of him.’
Kelly sighed and stabbed at a spear of asparagus that she had no intention of eating. ‘I wonder how long it will take for people to realise he’s not here anymore.’
‘I’m betting people will have visitations anyway,’ Tom said.
Turning her head sharply, Kelly asked, ‘What? Are you planning on faking it for them?’
‘Not at all.’ He laughed. ‘It’s just that human nature being what it is, I’m sure some of the guests will see what they want to see and hear what they want to hear. You know what I mean … someone will hear another guest going into their room late at night, a few bumping noises or a bit of muffled muttering, and the next morning they will tell everyone they heard the ghost of Stanthorpe House. They won’t be able to help themselves.’
While Kelly wasn’t sure he was right, she had to concede the imagination could do very strange things. Her middle-of-the-night solo sexual encounters were prime examples. She just prayed that once she got back to the States they’d stop because she didn’t know how long she’d cope otherwise.
For one thing, she’d never again chance falling asleep in front of another living soul so long as it continued.
‘I’d be interested to see what happens,’ Kelly commented, although she wasn’t certain whether she was talking about Tom’s assertion or her fears about her own uncontrollable sleep adventures.
Tom cast a wary look at his wife and cleared his throat. ‘I got a call from Richard earlier today, Kel.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, he’s out off hospital. It seems he is paralysed from the waist down. The doctors are hoping it is only temporary.’
Drawing a ragged breath Kelly stared at Tom, then Nancy, in turn. She still didn’t know how she felt about Richard. She supposed desperation made people act in ways that they otherwise might not, but she didn’t think she could forgive what he did – what he forced her to do. She’d never have pushed him into the mirror if he hadn’t tried to rape her. John had been on the mark when he said Richard Ditchley was tainted by the bad blood of at least one ancestor.
‘I can’t pretend that I’m sorry,’ she admitted ruefully as that familiar chilled sensation swept unbidden through her. ‘He tried some nasty tactics in an attempt to extort a lot of money from me. And though I’d like to believe people innocent until proven guilty … the thing with Deanna … I wouldn’t wish paralysis on anyone but …’ she put her glass down and frowned slightly, ‘let’s not talk about Richard.’
‘Mmmm, let’s not,’ Nancy agreed. ‘This is supposed to be a private celebration for our new venture and we’ve gone and gotten all morose.’ She raised her glass in a toast, ‘To Stanthorpe House, may it prosper!’
The grand opening came and went in a whirlwind of excitement and mishaps. Several local dignitaries attended, puffing out their chests and taking credit where no credit was due. The first groups of guests arrived by the busload, many abuzz with the prospect of meeting a ghost. Tom slanted a knowing look at Kelly when they overheard two women muttering their disappointment that the master bedroom would not be open to the public at this time.
By bedtime everyone on staff seemed exhilarated despite their exhaustion. The atmosphere of the manor seemed strange to Kelly as she prepared for bed. With people occupying virtually every room it no longer had that old-world feel that she had come to think of as home. Now it bustled and hummed with all the trappings of the twenty-first century and she wasn’t sure how she felt about that.
It made her time with John seem all the more unreal.
At about two in the morning she woke with a start, not because of one of her regular solo orgasms. That had occurred earlier, at midnight, as usual. No, this time she woke because she felt a presence in her room.
John? her mind whispered in desperation.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she felt her heart lurch. Someone stood beside the bed but whoever it was, the size and shape told her it couldn’t be John.
‘Are you the ghost?’ a small, frail voice whispered.
Kelly sat up and reached for the bedside lamp.
Before Kelly stood a little old lady, eighty if she was a day, staring at her with wide-eyed amazement. Her silver hair stuck up on one side.
‘Of course I’m not the ghost.’
The woman’s face dropped with disappointment and she held a hand to her mouth. ‘Oh … yes … dear – I remember you from the party earlier. You’re the owner’s friend. I’m so sorry to have disturbed your sleep. It’s just … all my life I have wanted proof that ghosts exist … and I thought – well,’ she reached out a withered hand and patted Kelly’s cheek, ‘it is quite obvious you’re not the ghost. I’ll just go back to bed now,’ she muttered and turned away.
‘Wait,’ Kelly said. ‘Why is it so important to you?’
She turned and gave Kelly a sad smile, ‘It’s nothing really. My husband Harold passed away forty-two years ago. We’d only been married such a short time and I always wanted to think he was somehow still there, close by. I guess I won’t know until my time comes.’
With an inward sigh, Kelly tried to return the woman’s smile. ‘If it’s any consolation, I have spoken to the ghost so I know he does exist. I wrote the article in the newspaper.’
The woman’s face lit up as if she had just won a wonderful prize. ‘Is he here now?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. I don’t know if I’ll ever see him again.’
‘Oh. Well, thank you dear. I’ll just trust that my Harold is waiting for me. I do apologise again for waking you.’
This time Kelly’s smile was genuine. ‘That’s okay. If you want to talk more tomorrow – I’ll be about the place for most of the day.’
The woman nodded and slowly left the room.
Wide awake now, Kelly knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep for quite a while so she reached across to the bedside chest and withdrew John’s journal from her tote and began to reread it. She started at the beginning this time. It gave her immense comfort to have something tangible to hold onto. She just hoped her late night visitor had something of her Harold that could give her the same sense of comfort.
14
Day Eighteen
‘All packed?’ Nancy asked, trying to put on a bold face but Kelly could see a suspicious-looking tear or two.
Jamming the case closed then sitting on it, she attempted to smile as she grappled with the complicated tumbler-style locks. One just didn’t want to snap into place and in the end Nancy had to add her weight as well.
‘Yep – just my hand luggage to worry about in the morning.’
‘I wish you’d stay longer.’
Kelly wrapped her arms around her friend. ‘I know, but if I want to come back in time for the birth of my goddaughter then I’m going to have to get back to work.’ She didn’t add that she needed to get away from the vividness of her memory of John.
Tonight would have been his final night to be seen … if he’d survived.
She sighed as she looked around her. Being in this room only encouraged her to fixate and with each passing day the fixation got stronger.
‘How do you know it’ll be a girl?’ Nancy asked, returning Kelly’s hug with a squeeze of her own.
‘I just do,’ Kelly replied obliquely. ‘Actually, that’s a lie. Dora Lester, the little old lady I had lunch with today, says it’s a girl and she swears she has never been wrong.’
‘You two seemed thick as thieves all day, what was that about?’
Kelly laughed. ‘She came creeping into my room last night hoping to meet the ghost … we got to talking, and she turned out to be a nice old bird. Has had an interesting life. I might even write a story about her. She reminds me very much of my grandmother.’
‘Your grandmother was nuts!’
‘Precisely. Dora would make a great human interest story.’
Nancy’s brows puckered. ‘What’s this? Have you given up the political stuff?’
Plonking the heavy case beside the bed, Kelly couldn’t help but glance at the mirror. As usual, the little wisp of hope fled when all she saw reflected was the room itself. ‘I don’t know what I want to do, Nance. I’ve been thinking about it and all the politics and stuff feels like bullshit to me now. The plastic people with their hidden agendas. I can’t see myself going back to that. I’m going to speak to the editor and ask for a reassignment. I don’t know what … he mightn’t have anything, but I’m going to try. And if he can’t reassign me, I might use a little of Gran’s trust money and become a full-time playwright.’
‘I never knew you wanted to write.’
‘It’s always been my secret dream. Frank tried to spoil it for me but I think I might be ready to really give it a go.’
‘Well good for you! I don’t suppose your first play will be a ghost story would it?’ Nancy asked with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Secret Reflection Page 28