Burning Bright (Brambridge Novel 2)
Page 28
“Hey—we never…”
Melissa dared to lift her head a bit higher, but the men showed no signs of recognition. “And I might suggest investing in some tweezers.”
The tall gentleman fished reluctantly around in his pocket and held out a three penny bit. His hand brushed briefly over her palm as he pushed the coin into her hand and she shuddered, whipping away the money in her fist.
“Melissa!”
Melissa shook her head. Go away Eliza. Waiting until the men had turned away, she hurriedly backed through the creaking garden gate and ran up the scattered stones of the garden path, stumbling as again the voice echoed out of the partially open kitchen door.
“Melissssssssaaaa! I have a proposition for you…”
The calling tones were insistent. Shakily, she yanked the kitchen door open fully.
“Melissa! Where have you put it?”
Melissa froze, her gaze riveted on the dusty tiles of the kitchen floor. Muddy half-moon shapes tracked from side to side across the small room, and then out into the hall. All of the cupboards were open, their meagre contents spilled to the ground, as if someone had pawed their way to the very back. She bit her lip and laid a hand on the kitchen table to steady herself as a memory flooded her. Edgar and I have some news for you, we’re married! Isn’t that lovely? Now all you have to do is pay the coal man. In the kitchen will do.
Her breath hitched. Pressing the brass rims of her glasses to her nose, she put the black bag down on the cold kitchen tiles and shuffled slowly through into the dark hall. Although the front door was closed, leaves had blown onto the ceramic tiles of the entranceway, and its lock hung askew surrounded by enormous splinters.
Melissa licked her lips and looked back down towards the kitchen. She could leave now, send in the agent to deal with the intruder or…
No. Slowly she felt for doorknob of the front room. Pulling her cloak more tightly around her, she closed her eyes and stepped through the door.
A hoarse voice echoed in the darkness of the damp empty room. “Hello Melissa. You are a pretty little one, aren’t you? Did you hear me?”
Oh dear. How had she ever thought the voice had belonged to Eliza?
“If you don’t give it to me along with the money, I’ll set the Viper on to you.”
“I don’t understand.” Melissa shivered and felt her way by the tips of her fingers to where the sideboard had been. Her fingers trembled as she felt at the wall. “What money? And what is…”
“The money that your mother owed us.”
“But everything has been paid for!” Melissa stopped looking for the sideboard, her heartbeat sounding loudly in her ears as she stared into the darkness. “Why don’t you show yourself?” She coughed as her voice quavered. “Only cowards hide in the dark.”
A deep laugh rolled through the blackness. “Only clever people hide in the dark,”
Gasping, Melissa waved a hand wildly in front of her, but still she could not find the edge of the sideboard. It wasn’t there, gone with all the rest of the furniture ready for the house to be sold.
She stopped and froze against the wall. The last time she had been in the small front room there had been a box of matches and a taper on the fireplace. But to get to them would mean moving in further towards the disembodied voice.
“I haven’t the time for this foolery.” The voice floated towards the window. “Even though you are a delightful little morsel and I would so love to stay and play.”
Melissa squinted through scrunched up eyes. Although the curtains were drawn, the outline of a figure showed fleetingly against the material. “I’m not going to pay you. I told you once, and I tell you again, everything was paid.”
“Not her gambling debts to the Viper. And the sizeable interest accrued of course.”
Melissa tensed her hands in her skirts. “How much is it?” Oh goodness. Eliza and Edgar had already gambled away Melissa’s inheritance with anyone who would play. Why had she ever believed any of Eliza’s lies? Because one doesn’t normally question a mother’s word.
“Thirty thousand pounds.”
She gasped. “Thirty thousand?”
That was more money than the house was worth, many times more. Pulling herself from the wall, she fled uncaring to the fireplace, and swept her hand along the mantel, grasping at the matchbox that skittered away from her fingers. Hands trembling, she fumbled with the box, striking at it twice with a match before lighting a taper.
The soft glow revealed a young man crouched by the windows. He turned to face her, standing sharply as the light reached him. With an oath, he swung lithely behind the curtains. “You have six months to find it!” he cried and with a splintering of glass he was gone.