The Silent Touch of Shadows
Page 10
She wasn’t all that heavy so he was able to lift her without much effort and carry her into the shop. The little bell jangled furiously as he kicked the door open wider with one foot. There were exclamations of surprise and murmurings of sympathy from other customers as they moved hurriedly to make way for him and his burden. Three chairs were arranged against a wall, presumably for the use of elderly customers, and he lay the unconscious woman down across them.
‘Dear me, what happened, young man?’ he heard someone say. He turned to find some kind soul had retrieved his doughnuts and the woman’s carrier bags from the pavement outside and was depositing them next to the chairs.
‘Thanks,’ he murmured somewhat distractedly, his attention focused on the woman. There was something about her that disturbed him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it could be.
‘It’s been a long time since I saw a young girl swoon at the sight of a handsome man.’ The comment, together with a stifled cackle of laughter, came from somewhere behind him and he turned in irritation to glare at the person who had uttered it. There were several elderly ladies watching with avid curiosity, and he couldn’t say for sure which one of them had spoken so he gave them all a stern look before turning back to the prone woman. Of all the stupid things to say, he thought, but stifled the urge to comment out loud.
The woman stirred and her eyelids fluttered. As he chafed her hands in an attempt to revive her and waited for her to come out of her faint, he heard the voice behind him add in a loud, theatrical whisper, ‘But he’s handsome enough to make even an old lady like me swoon.’ Gritting his teeth, he resolutely ignored it.
The woman was trying to open her eyes and finally succeeded.
‘Ah, good, you’re waking up,’ Jake said, while she blinked in confusion. ‘How are you feeling?’
As she looked up into his face, he saw her frown. All of a sudden, her gaze widened and she swallowed hard. At first she didn’t answer him, but then she whispered, ‘Roger?’
‘I’m sorry?’ It was Jake’s turn to frown.
‘No, it can’t be.’ She stared at him. ‘You … you look different, somehow. Oh, it’s your hair, you’ve had it cut. Shame, I liked those long golden tresses, but that short, layered style quite suits you.’ She smiled at him, showing two perfect dimples, and Jake drew in a sharp breath. The smile transformed her face from merely pretty to breathtakingly beautiful and he felt as if he’d been floored by a heavyweight champion. But what had she meant by ‘long golden tresses’? She was quite clearly barking mad. A real shame.
‘I think you must be confusing me with someone else,’ he informed her gently. ‘My name is Jake Precy. I’m the local vet, and I don’t think we’ve met before, or have we?’
He said the last part of the sentence as if it was a question, because he had felt a small stirring of recognition himself. Surely he would have remembered meeting this woman, though? With her long, wavy, auburn hair, cool silvery eyes and incredible smile she was definitely unforgettable. And although she had felt light as a feather when he carried her into the shop, her tall figure was nicely rounded in all the right places. A shaft of desire suddenly snaked through him, taking him by surprise, and he gave himself a mental shake. What was the matter with him? He hadn’t reacted to a woman in ages, not since … well, since that damned ridiculous dream. But perhaps that was the trouble.
‘Do you have a pet?’ he added, hoping against hope this would solve the mystery.
‘No, I …’ She was still staring at him, looking totally bewildered now. ‘Oh, dear. I’m sorry, you must think I’m crazy, but you look so much like … like someone I know,’ she finished lamely.
‘My long-lost twin, perhaps?’ He tried to smile reassuringly, but the words echoed round his brain in a very disturbing way.
He saw her shiver and thought he heard her murmur, ‘Goodness, but he’s even more attractive in real life. No! What am I thinking …?’
He had no idea, but he knew he needed to put some distance between them. Fast. ‘Are you all right now?’ he asked. ‘I must get back to work.’
‘Yes, yes of course. Th-thank you for your help. I really don’t know what came over me, it’s never happened to me before.’ She sat up, obviously still fighting the dizziness, and tried to compose herself. Several of the onlookers were still peeking at the little tableau from time to time, and Jake could see that she disliked being the centre of attention. Her cheeks flamed and she took a few deep breaths, as if in an effort to cool them. ‘Thank you again. It was very kind of you to help me,’ she said more firmly, leaning over slowly to pick up her shopping.
Jake bent down at the same time to retrieve his own mangled bag, and as he did so, his hand brushed against hers. Her eyes widened in surprise and she drew in a sharp breath, as did he. A strange sensation had shot through his fingers, and he knew she’d felt it, too. He tried not to give any sign of having been affected by the contact, however, merely straightened up and gave her a polite nod.
‘You’re welcome. It’s not every day I have women fainting at the sight of me,’ he joked. He smiled again, and cast a challenging look towards the old biddies by the counter, daring the one who had spoken earlier to repeat her comments. No one moved.
With a quick, ‘Goodbye,’ and a wave of his hand, he left.
One block away, however, he had to stop and lean against a wall as a wave of dizziness washed over him. The soft susurration of the woman’s voice echoed round his brain and he shook his head to clear it. He felt bewitched, as if someone had cast a spell on him, but such things didn’t happen in real life.
‘I need to get out more,’ he muttered. He’d had his wish at last. A woman had affected him, and if she could do it, so could others. He just had to leave his comfort zone a bit more often.
Perhaps he should try going on some dates? He could start by offering to take the lovely red-head to dinner to make sure she’d recovered from her faint.
But damn, I didn’t even ask her name!
Chapter Ten
Melissa drew in another deep breath and tried to compose herself. Seeing Roger’s doppelgänger like that had shaken her badly, but she told herself it was just a fluke. Or maybe she had remembered wrongly and it was just the fact the vet had blond hair and blue eyes. He had certainly been attractive. She reflected wryly that he probably did have ladies swooning over him, but perhaps not quite so literally. She smiled to herself.
When he disappeared, however, she suddenly felt bereft, as if something very precious had been taken away from her.
I guess I really am going crazy, she thought, and struggled to her feet. Or maybe I need to rest more. Yes, that was probably it. The flu had made her over-tired.
But as she made her way home, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man she’d just met. His features were etched into her brain alongside those of Roger and a little voice kept telling her the vet had been right. They could have been twins.
The delicious aroma of homemade vegetable soup permeated the kitchen when Melissa came marching in upon her return from the shopping expedition, but she didn’t notice. Instead, she dumped her bags on the kitchen table with a thump, and vented her barely suppressed frustration on her great-aunt.
‘Dorothy, there’s something weird going on around here. Now, I know we haven’t known each other for very long, but as your only relative, I think I’m entitled to the truth. I have a feeling there are things you’re not telling me and it’s driving me nuts.’
The old lady swivelled round to look at her great-niece in surprise. ‘The truth about what?’
‘This house. Us. The strange things that keep happening. I don’t know, but … You can’t have lived here all your life and not have noticed anything? Please, I would really appreciate some answers now.’
Dorothy turned back to the cheese board she was preparing and began to unwrap a piece of Stilton slowly, as if stalling for time. ‘What makes you think there’s something strange going on, dear?’
‘Oh, yes?’ Dorothy raised an eyebrow in enquiry.
‘Yes, and not only that, but I’ve just seen him in the High Street, too.’
‘What?’ This time Dorothy looked puzzled. ‘Surely not?’
‘Not the ghost, but a man who looked exactly like him. In fact, I was so shocked by the likeness that I fainted at the sight of him in the baker’s shop,’ Melissa admitted, her cheeks turning hot just thinking about it.
Dorothy burst out laughing and Melissa felt some of the aggression drain out of her. Her great-aunt’s laughter was infectious and she thought to herself that perhaps she was taking this a bit too seriously. There had to be a logical explanation for these strange occurrences and maybe she was over-reacting.
‘That must have amused the clientele no end, dear,’ Dorothy said. ‘You’ll be the talk of the town. No doubt I’ll hear all about it when I play bridge next week.’ She grew serious again. ‘Are you sure it was the same man? Did he say who he was?’
‘I swear, he was the spitting image of the plaguey ghost, although he said his name was Jake, not Roger. Jake Precy.’
Dorothy’s eyes widened. ‘How on earth do you know the ghost’s name?’
‘He told me. It’s Roger. He said he wants me to help him, but I don’t know with what. I thought perhaps you could tell me.’ Melissa sat down at the table and scowled. As she looked out of the window, her mind filled with images of the two men again. So alike and yet, not quite. The vet’s face had lacked the long scar, for one thing.
‘Er, what exactly did he look like, this ghost?’ Dorothy put the cheese board on the table and took a baguette out of the warming oven of the Aga. She cut it into two-inch pieces with great precision and put them in a bread basket.
‘He was tall and blond.’ Melissa’s face grew warm once more. ‘And extremely handsome. Just like that damned Mr Precy.’
Dorothy bustled around setting the table. ‘So Mr Precy looks like the ghost you saw? Are you sure?’
‘Of course I’m sure! You don’t think I normally go around fainting at the sight of a good-looking man, do you? I know I’m single again, but I’m not that desperate. It was most embarrassing, I can tell you.’
Dorothy chuckled. ‘Yes, I can imagine. What did Mr Precy think of it all?’
‘Oh, he was very kind and gentlemanly. He put me on some chairs to recover and tried to joke about the whole thing. But I could see he was uncomfortable, especially when I called him Roger.’ Melissa sent Dorothy a pleading look. ‘Please, if you can shed any light on this at all, I’d be really grateful. I’m starting to think I’m going mad.’
Dorothy sighed. ‘Well, the truth is that others have seen the ghost, too. I just didn’t want to upset you any more the day you asked, so I thought it better not to tell you. I was afraid you would leave before you had a chance to settle in and I so wanted you to stay. It would be so lonely here without you.’
‘I see. So the house is definitely haunted?’
‘Yes, but not everyone notices. I’ve never seen anything myself and I’ve lived here all my life.’
‘How strange. You haven’t noticed anything at all?’
‘No, although as I said, I’d love to. I can’t believe your ghost talked to you, that is most unfair. After all the years I’ve been here. That’s gratitude for you.’
‘Hah, I’d much rather he didn’t, thank you very much. You’re welcome to him.’ Melissa tossed her hair out of her eyes. ‘Actually, I was going to ask you if there are any old papers or anything about the house that you could show me. I want to research its history, see if anyone called Roger lived here. I have to get to the bottom of this, see if there are any facts or documents to back this up.’ She had thought of nothing else all the way home from town. She wasn’t a genealogist for nothing and this was a challenge she simply couldn’t refuse.
Dorothy shook her head. ‘No, I’ve never seen any papers. But you’re not going mad, dear. I told you, you’re not the only one to have seen ghosts at Ashleigh.’ She hesitated, as if she didn’t quite know where to begin, then pulled out a chair and sat down opposite Melissa. She took a deep breath and plaited her fingers together on the table in front of her.
‘You’re right. Perhaps it’s time for the truth.’
Sibell stifled a sigh and tried to ignore the discomfort of sitting ramrod straight next to her father during the evening meal. He had a proper chair with an ornately carved back and armrests, while she had to make do with a bench. She wished herself a hundred miles away. Or at least as far as Idenhurst. She wondered idly if Sir Roger was still there and, if so, what he would be doing at this hour. Was he, like her, sitting at table or had he retired for the night? Her face grew warm at the direction her thoughts were taking.
‘I must stop thinking about him,’ she chided herself, but she’d found it almost impossible during the last few days. Images of him came unbidden into her mind far too frequently for comfort and she wanted nothing so much as to escape to her chamber to daydream.
Normally she would have done so as soon as she had finished eating, but tonight she had to remain, since her father had guests. Some distant cousins whom he wished to impress with his worldly goods and standing. Hence the interminable meal. Sibell restrained the urge to rip off her headdress, which was making her head ache like the very devil. Out of sheer boredom, she began to pay attention to a conversation across the table. It was all about politics, a subject that wasn’t normally of any interest to her, but it helped pass the time.
‘There are rumours that the Earl of March is assembling a fighting force and plans to return to England soon to meet up with his father, the Duke of York, who is coming back from Ireland.’ The speaker, a sparse man in his late forties named Robert, was her father’s cousin on his mother’s side. He had a nose as sharp as a razor blade and riddled with red veins, and he was telling his tale with relish. Sibell could see his eyes glowing with excitement.
‘Oh, aye?’ Another cousin, Ambrose by name, who was slightly older with a huge paunch, was clearly not impressed. He continued with his meal unperturbed. The excellent fare provided at Ashleigh appeared to interest him far more than the intrigues of his superiors.
Sibell had heard talk about the Duke’s return for months now. No one seemed to know for certain whether there was any truth in this or merely wishful thinking on the part of his supporters.
‘Yes, and the Queen isn’t best pleased, apparently. She must have thought the threat from York was over after the King’s victories last year, but there are many who think she wields too much power. They’d support York, should he return.’
It was rumoured that Margaret of Anjou, Queen of England, was an ambitious and unforgiving woman who had no intention of relinquishing her position. Apparently, she dominated her husband and the court completely, causing controversy among the lords who felt they could no longer give the King their whole loyalty. Sibell knew the Queen had given birth to a son seven years previously. This excluded York from the succession, but it would appear it wasn’t enough to stop an ambitious man such as he. Could he really take the throne, though? It didn’t seem very likely, but it was true there was a lot of opposition to a system of government dominated by the Queen.
Whatever Ambrose’s private views on women in politics, his only reply to the sharp-nosed Robert’s gossip was a grunt. The latter man continued undaunted, pleased to have an audience in John and his sons, at least.
‘Yes, indeed. Lord March is said to be ready to rally to his father’s cause.’ The scepticism on the face
of his listeners was obviously not to the man’s liking. He drew himself up to his full height and tried to look important, despite the shabbiness of his clothing, which proclaimed his lowly status.
‘And who will support him?’ A third cousin was equally unimpressed.
‘Why, he has the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury with him in exile and at least two Neville lords as well, it’s said. There are many who are ready to join them when they land on these shores.’ Robert was growing agitated now, his cheeks turning as red as his nose.
‘I take it you’re one of them?’ The paunchy Ambrose had obviously tired of such treasonous gossip, which could easily be overheard and the words misconstrued.
‘M-me?’ Red-faced, Robert began to splutter indignantly as he belatedly realised his peril. ‘I was only repeating what I’ve heard, cousin.’ He sniffed. ‘It’s nothing to me what the Earl of March chooses to do. I am a loyal subject of his majesty the King.’ Ambrose raised one eyebrow in disbelief and the gossipmonger obviously deemed it wise to retreat. Muttering something about needing the privy, he headed for the door.
Sibell saw her father watch the man scurry away, a pensive look on his face. She could tell he was digesting the overheard information to see whether it could be used to his advantage. He’d never been averse to finding ways of bettering his position, as she well knew. But he was canny enough not to rush into anything without being absolutely sure it would be to his benefit. Would the situation have any bearing on her own plight, she wondered? Perhaps if she prayed hard enough, Sir Fulke would join the fray and get himself killed in battle before the wedding. Oh, if only …
The woman on the horse was a red-head too!
This random thought popped into Jake’s brain without warning later that day, causing him to bump into the examination table as he led an elderly woman into the veterinary surgery. The strange dream he’d had came rushing back to him again. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the lady and asked politely what he could do for her, putting everything else out of his mind for the moment.