Now there was an interesting notion, mused Roger as he struggled with the handwriting. He wondered whether the secret passageways really existed.
The journal went into detail about how Cecil Wystan, who died in 1540, had been one of the smugglers, and how after his death, his son, James, had discovered the secrets of the house, and set about making certain the property came into the possession of his family.
As far as Roger could tell, the journal did not reveal the secrets themselves, which intrigued him further. Deciding to keep the book to one side and read it in more depth later, he continued his search.
*
Between them, they managed to devour the meal in a fraction of the time it had taken Joyce and Rachel to prepare it, and they all very much appreciated it, so both chefs were grateful.
Rachel enjoyed the entire experience so much that she decided she should entertain more often. There was no excuse really: Louise and Phil were literally down the lane; though they had not come tonight, her oldest friends, Susan and Daniel lived not too far away, and now she had grown so fond of Joyce and Theo, she rather hoped to see much more of them in the future.
Which left Matthew, the new owner of Four Oaks.
Although she had lived in the village a comparatively short period, already Rachel knew much of its history. Four Oaks, it seemed, was steeped in as much historical mystery as Ravenscreag Hall was. It had a chequered past of joy and sorrow, and was allegedly haunted by those spirits who, for whatever reason, chose not to depart.
The house frightened her.
She had stood at its gates, staring up through the trees to the cold edifice on numerous occasions, wondering how Old Woman Wystan, the spinster who had apparently died there a decade or so ago, could possibly bear to live there. Elaine Oakhurst, whom Rachel could not claim to actually know personally, had shocked the entire village last year with her announcement that she had purchased the place – and then stunned the villagers yet again by bequeathing it to a complete stranger when she died.
Rachel had to admit she was unsure about Matthew Silverthorne. Outwardly, he seemed a likeable young man, if somewhat aloof, and throughout dinner it became clear from their body language that he and Theo had a great deal of love for one another.
However, each time she glanced across at him, Rachel was struck by a curious sensation. She felt his eyes upon her constantly, yet whenever she looked in his direction, he was engaged in conversation with Joyce or Theo, or he was concentrating on cutting the somewhat tough meat on his plate. Not once did she actually find him looking in her direction, yet still the curious sensation persisted.
She took Phil into the kitchen with her to help ready the dessert, having told Joyce to continue her chat with the two young men, and as they loaded the plates into the dishwasher, she made him aware of her misgivings concerning Matthew.
‘Does Peter sense anything about him?’ she whispered.
Peter came forward immediately, his voice filled with excitement and sorrow. ‘The young man is neither possessed by the spirit of Sawyl Gwilym, nor is he the warlock’s reincarnation.’
Rachel took a deep breath with relief, clutching a hand to her chest. ‘Thank the lord. I was beginning to fear the worst, with all these weird feelings I’ve been getting. Guess I was letting my imagination run away with me again.’
Peter shook his head. ‘You are not entirely incorrect in your assessment. Matthew Silverthorne is not yet possessed by anyone. However, I do feel most strongly that there is the spirit of another, buried so deep within his subconscious as to be almost invisible and inert.’
Rachel frowned. ‘Who is it, Peter? Is it someone we know?’
Peter stared directly into Rachel’s eyes. ‘As you cannot see me, yet know that I am here, so I cannot see this spirit, yet I know her to be there. She is little more than a child, so very afraid. She knows where she is, understands little of what is going on, and wishes only to be left alone.’
‘A girl?’ gasped Rachel. ‘Who is she?’
‘Have I not already stated I know not her identity? She hides herself well, for she is greatly afeared of someone; alas I know not who. She has been reincarnated within Matthew Silverthorne’s body, and though her memories are perhaps reawakened, she chooses not yet to manifest herself, perhaps through fear of discovery from whomever she hides. She will not come forward willingly. I believe Matthew is aware of her presence, though he has precious little understanding of who she is, and until she is ready to reveal herself to him fully, we must say nothing of this to him.’
Rachel found herself wondering why the girl’s spirit was so frightened, and from whom she was hiding. Could her unknown tormentor be Sawyl Gwilym? It was certainly a possibility, for Isabella Neville and Gloria were unlikely to be the only two people he tormented in his lifetime.
‘Is there any way we might coax her out, to ask her questions?’
Peter’s response was hasty. ‘I believe such action to be ill-advised. Direct confrontation would most likely push her further into hiding. Better to let her know we mean her no harm, and let her come forward of her own free will.’
As she finished loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, Rachel sighed. ‘Well, I shall defer to your better judgment. You’re the expert on such matters, after all.’
Joyce chose than moment to come into the kitchen. ‘Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?’ she asked. ‘After all, this dinner was of my doing.’
Her presence startled Peter into silence, allowing Phil to return.
‘Thanks, but I think we’ve got it covered,’ Rachel muttered.
Joyce lingered, unwilling to leave until she had asked her question, yet uncertain how best to phrase it. In the end, she just blurted it out. ‘Is my son possessed, or is it Matthew? I could hear some of your conversation from the doorway, so I know you have picked up on something.’
Rachel straightened up and closed the dishwasher, then turned to face her new friend. ‘Don’t worry, it’s not Theo, and as far as Peter can tell, the spirit of a young girl is that which inhabits the body of Matthew, although she is too terrified of someone to make her presence properly known. We don’t think Matthew should be made aware of this fact though.’
Joyce felt she should contradict, recalling as she did Matthew’s recent comments about how he thought he was apparently possessed, and that she knew Roger’s secret too. She had secretly feared that Hrothgar’s progeny might actually be Sawyl Gwilym, but if Matthew’s incumbent spirit were female, then that now seemed unlikely.
‘Are you okay, Joyce?’ asked Rachel, touching her shoulder. ‘You seem lost in thought.’
‘I don’t know whether I should say anything. I promised I wouldn’t, and I don’t usually break my word.’
‘I think we can trust that it will go no further than this room if it is to do with spirits, Joyce.’
‘Mayhap you would wish to converse in private later, when the others are gone,’ said Peter, startling Joyce with his sudden reappearance. He turned to Rachel. ‘I believe this woman may hold some of the answers to our questions.’
‘Very well,’ replied Rachel. ‘Let’s get this evening out of the way, and then we can talk. We should enjoy ourselves; after all, we now know Sawyl Gwilym is not in our midst.’
‘Indeed he is not,’ muttered Peter. ‘But if he is not among our number here tonight, then where is he?’
Liam trampled through fields for several hours before returning to The Green Woman Inn in darkness, totally lost in his thoughts.
Was what he was thinking concerning Max Revenant actually possible? Could the man conceivably be a ghost?
It would certainly explain how he was able to appear and disappear at will; it would easily explain how his entire appearance had changed not one iota since Liam first saw him a year ago; it made a kind of sense out of what he had heard Max whisper to Elaine Oakhurst on that same evening.
‘Matthew was very interested, but he knew he would not be able to outb
id the full asking price. Your plan worked, Mother. All we have to do now is wait.’
Last year, Liam convinced himself that he had completely misheard those words. Elaine Oakhurst was over ninety years of age; Max could be no older than thirty at the most. It made no sense at all to Liam back then, but if Max were a ghost, then it actually made perfect sense: Max could have died many years earlier, and Elaine Oakhurst could quite easily be his mother.
But such a notion was patently ridiculous. Elaine Oakhurst had surely been a childless spinster. Not once had Liam heard mention of a husband or children, and he felt certain someone would have made even one single comment at some point about the pillar of their community having lost an offspring.
Elaine and Max seemed well aware of one another’s existence last year, even though he was an outsider to the village. No one in the pub recognised him, which in Liam’s mind added credence to his supposition.
But why would a ghost pretend to be an estate agent?
Last week, Liam would have bashed himself over the head and told himself not to be so downright ridiculous, but events of the past few days had opened his eyes to a whole world of possibilities, and the notion that Max Revenant might actually be a dead man walking was no longer as idiotic as it had once been.
If the man were a ghost though, why had he chosen to masquerade as an estate agent? Why did he linger in the village? Was he perhaps keeping an eye on someone, and if so, who and why?
First thing in the morning, I’m going to ask Matty for the details of the estate agent who originally sold Four Oaks to Elaine, thought Liam as he pushed open the door to the saloon bar. He intended to ask the Estate Agent whether they had anyone by the name of Max Revenant working for them – and indeed whether they had actually handled the original sale of Four Oaks last year.
The fact that it was sold to Elaine Oakhurst under Matthew’s very nose, by someone she claimed to be her son, seemed very odd to Liam – though perhaps no odder than any other recent events.
First though, he had a question to put to his mother.
He was relieved to find his father serving behind the bar, which with any luck meant his mother was hard at work in the upstairs office, struggling to balance the accounts. Liam managed to slip past Ainsley without being spotted, and dashed up the stairs as quietly as he could.
Chloe looked up from the mountain of paperwork, piled high on her desk, as her errant son sauntered through the door. ‘Liam, where the devil have you been? Your father’s in a foul mood because neither you nor your sister showed up to help him.’
Liam collapsed into the armchair in the far corner of the room. ‘He seems to be coping admirably without any help,’ he mumbled in his usual couldn’t care less voice. ‘It’s quiet tonight.’
‘It’s slackened off in the past half hour. It’s been manic all evening. Where have you been?’
Liam shrugged. ‘I went for a walk to clear my head.’
‘Do you know where your sister is?’
‘Nope. I’m not her keeper. She never tells me where she’s going or what she’s up to.’
‘I know you’re both adults, but really, the pair of you could show your father and me some consideration.’
‘Yeah, sorry Mum, but you know how Dad feels about me. He can’t stand the sight of me most of the time. He’d kick me out if it weren’t for you, so to be quite honest, I really don’t see why I should put myself out for him.’
Chloe set down her pen and glared at her son. ‘If not for him, then for me at least!’
Liam held up a hand to silence her. ‘All right, I get the message. You know I’ll help you any time, Mum, but don’t expect me to change my view on Dad until he changes his view on me!’
Chloe knew that scenario was not about to play out any time soon. The constant losing battle she fought daily to maintain some kind of peace between her son and husband was beginning to wear her down, and she had started to lose perspective on what was important in her life. At one point, The Green Woman Inn had been all that mattered, to the extent that she had not been there for her children when they were growing up.
She did not see herself as a bad mother, but perhaps if she had paid them a bit more attention during their childhood, they would have grown up less belligerent and antagonistic.
Hell, perhaps Liam would not have turned out gay!
She felt that situation was all her fault. Was it too late to repent, change her ways, and perhaps change Liam back again?
She told herself not to be foolish as the thought that she was entirely to blame for her son’s shortcomings coursed its way through her tortured mind yet again.
It was not her fault; it was not Ainsley’s fault; it was no one’s fault!
Besides, even if she could change her son, she would not do so. She loved him exactly the way he was, and any changes to him would mean he was not the son she had watched grow up.
No, she thought, even if I’d spent more time with them growing up they would most likely have turned out the same. Nothing would be different, and I wouldn’t want it to be. Good and bad, this is my life, and I’m actually quite happy generally with things the way they are.
‘Mum, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said, have you?’
Chloe blinked and stared at Liam, half inclined to lie, but she instead sighed. ‘No, I haven’t. I’m sorry, dear, what were you saying?’
‘I was asking about Elaine Oakhurst.’
‘What about her, dear?’
‘Did she have any children when she was younger, do you know?’
Chloe frowned. ‘What an odd question. Why on earth would you want to know that?’
Liam shrugged. ‘Just curious.’
Chloe might have been a near-absent mother, but she could always tell when Liam was keeping something from her, and this was one of those rare occasions, She found herself realising that she actually knew her son quite well after all. Perhaps she had spent enough time with him when he was younger.
Lucinda, though, was another matter altogether.
‘No dear, as far as I can remember, Elaine had no children. I don’t think she was even married. That’s presumably why Four Oaks was left to someone outside her family, though heaven knows why she left it to someone she apparently didn’t know.’
‘How can you be so sure she didn’t know Matthew?’
‘This is a small village, dear. You should know how loose tongues love to gossip! It was round the village within half an hour that she had left the house to Matthew Silverthorne. Nobody in the village had heard of him, so therefore it was logical to assume Elaine didn’t actually know him either. If she did, even as a mere passing acquaintance, then some busybody in the village would have heard his name in passing.’
Small village or not, Liam knew there were events unfolding that nobody had any knowledge of, or if they did, they chose not to acknowledge it. Sweep it under the carpet if it is unpalatable or unbelievable; that was the norm within the village.
‘So you’re absolutely positive Elaine never had any children?’
Chloe nodded. ‘Definitely! Are you going to tell me what led you to ask such a curious question?’
Liam shook his head. ‘Nope. Anyway, you wouldn’t believe me, even if I told you.’ He pushed himself out of the chair. ‘It’s been a long day, so I’m going to bed now. I’m sorry I left you in the lurch today. I’ll make it up to you.’
Chloe smiled. ‘I know you will. Your father and I are having a night off next Wednesday; you and Lucinda are going to hold the fort.’
Liam let out his most theatrical sigh. ‘Oh great. Couldn’t I try to cope on my own, without Lucy’s help?’
Chloe chuckled. ‘You really shouldn’t call her that; you know she hates it! Anyway, if recent events are anything to go by, you’ll most likely be on your own. Are you sure you don’t know where she is?’
‘No idea.’ Liam kissed his mother on the cheek. ‘Goodnight, Mum.’
After closing the door to his roo
m, muffling the sounds from the bar below, Liam sat on the end of his bed for a while in silent contemplation, his mind filled with thoughts and images that made little sense to him. They compelled him into making a rash decision that he hoped he would not regret.
Opening the door once more, he slipped from the pub without anyone noticing, and disappeared into the night.
*
Standing in the shadows, the watchers observed the man with a sense of loathing that they could not comprehend, certain they had been spotted when he had looked in their direction. When he did not attempt to investigate, they realised their mistake, but remained secreted in the shrubbery until he was gone.
The youth wondered fleetingly what the man was doing here.
Concern thyself not with such thoughts. The secrets of this place are of no concern to me, as they are of no concern to thee!
The mental voice, silent for most of the day, startled the youth, who wished there was some way to be forewarned of the spirit’s presence.
And spoil my enjoyment of making thee squirm, my child? Where be the fun in that?’
‘What do you want?’ the youth asked in a soft whisper, lest there be someone nearby who might overhear. A foolish notion: who else would be stealthily watching this god-awful place at close quarters on such a cold night?
I wish thee to do my bidding, my child. Thou shalt relinquish control of thy body to me for one hour.
‘Why? What are you going to do?’
I must make certain the past does not repeat. I must prevent my death again, if I am to be free.
‘So you want revenge for your murder?’
Indeed yes! Vengeance shall be mine, and thou art the instrument of my salvation. Relinquish control of thy body for one hour; allow me to do what I must, and then I shall depart, and thou shalt have what thou doth desire the most.
‘Matty?’
Yes!
The youth’s eyes shone with triumph at the thought. There was no need to contemplate the offer any longer than it took to close their eyelids, and when the youth opened them again, the eyes that stared back in the glass were those of a stranger.
The Master of Prophecy (The Sawyl Gwilym Chronicles Book 2) Page 18