The Secret of Langley Manor

by Alicia Donovan

  “A strange house, I suppose.”

  I glanced at the grounds. It wasn’t unfamiliar houses that kept me up in the wee hours, but I didn’t want to discuss that with him. “I thought I heard some construction going on last night.”

  Michael froze, a scowl instantly covering his face. “What did you hear?”

  “It sounded like something metal, but I’m not really sure.”

  He threw a glance over his shoulder at the house and mumbled, “I’ll check into that.” When he turned back to me, he smiled, “We can’t have you losing sleep now, can we?”

  His grin was contagious and I couldn’t help but return it with one of my own.

  After clearing his throat, Michael changed the subject. “The police will be here sometime this morning to investigate the lake. I wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t be taken by surprise.”

  I’d seen the officers gathered on this very spot last night. Still, it was troubling. “I wondered if they would be back.”

  “It seems they have looked everywhere for the man and can’t find him.” He shook his head. “It is a shame. He was a good worker and caused no trouble on the job. A bit of an unruly drunk from what I’ve been told, but many men are. Hopefully, that had nothing to do with his disappearance.”

  “Maybe not, if the police are looking in the lake.”

  He stared at the lake as spellbound by it as I had been. “They are covering all their bases.”

  “Of course. Still, I’m sorry this is happening on your property.”

  Michael’s gaze turned to me. “I appreciate that. As soon as something seems to go well, some other trouble comes out of nowhere. Is it just me or is it everyone?”

  The question startled me. I’d always thought everything went along brilliantly for someone like Michael. Money, connections, confidence. Surely these things helped smooth the rough path of life. Maybe some. But we were all people, and all susceptible to the myriads of difficulties life can hand us.

  “I think it is everyone.”

  He sighed and flashed another slow grin that started the butterflies in my stomach as he reseated himself on King. “Well, one way or another, the investigation will be over soon.” Michael tipped his head. “Good morning, Abigail. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  “Good morning to you too, Michael.”

  He turned King toward the barn and rode away.

  My gaze lingered on him. There was more to Michael than I’d originally thought. The man gave a horrible first impression. But he was growing on me.

  Chapter 7

  I had just crunched my last bit of breakfast toast when a giant black pickup truck rumbled up the circle driveway and past the window. Once Michael and Sean left the dining room and the front door slammed shut, I scurried to the glass and peeked through the curtains.

  The pickup and an additional two cars boasted large decals declaring themselves the property of the local police department. The truck towed a small metal boat with an outboard motor.

  Two men dressed in jeans and flannel stepped out of one vehicle and opened the tailgate, pulling out diving equipment. A uniformed officer got out of the third one, followed by a well-mannered but lively German shepherd.

  Michael waved the pickup into the backyard, and Sean led the divers to the lake on foot.

  I hurried from the front window to the back porch, though I kept to the shade. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the truck as it inched backward toward the water, getting the boat as close to it as possible.

  By the time the officer had settled in and started the sonar, my stomach was churning. I didn’t want to see this.

  After climbing the stairs to my room, I gathered my drawing paper and tools. If they found something, the news would circulate in no time, anyway.

  The minute my shoe hit the hard tile of the front entry, the housekeeper turned into the hallway. I pulled in my breath, hoping for but expecting little assistance. “Mrs. Baker, I wonder if I could ask for your help? I’m to start in the back of the right wing this morning. Mr. Langley had offered a guide, but as he is busy at the moment, could you point the way?”

  She crossed her arms and stared at me for a minute. “Well, of course he’s busy. Come on, I’ll take you there before I start lunch.” She turned and set off at a sharp march.

  I took a few jogging steps to catch up with her, then kept pace. “I appreciate this, Mrs. Baker.” When she showed little acknowledgement, I added, “I also wanted to say that I’ve had few dinners as delicious as the one you served last night.”

  She sent me a side-eyed glance and harrumphed.

  “That cake, Mrs. Baker, was heavenly. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

  I wasn’t sure, but I believed I saw a tiny curve of her lip. And though we continued in silence, I felt it was a much friendlier one.

  As we walked to the right wing, I tried to memorize the way. The problem was that we didn’t just walk through the corridor, but also crossed through two rooms to get there. I’d need to remember which ones.

  The rooms themselves were in various states of disrepair. While some held little more than dust and cobwebs, others contained furniture with large white sheets over it, boarded windows and peeling paint.

  We had just marched through a large white room with a small fireplace on the inside wall when Mrs. Baker came to a halt. In front of us was a long hallway with mostly clean doors and arched entries on the right side. The opposite held giant windows framing King, his barn and beyond. Tall green pine trees covered the tops of the old Smoky Mountains with a sharp blue sky above.

  “It’s stunning.”

  This time Mrs. Baker did smile, her expression softening considerably. “It is, and will soon be more so.” After she took a moment to admire the view, she added, “I’ll send someone to get you before lunch. Mr. Langley wouldn’t want you wandering around lost over here.”

  “I appreciate that. It’s going to take me a few trips to know the way.” Seeing her ease, even that little bit, emboldened me. “Mrs. Baker, I was hoping you could help me. I want to make sure the kitchen, and any other areas you’re concerned about, have your input. Would you be willing to discuss with me what you like about the existing kitchen lighting and where improvements could be made?”

  The housekeeper was quiet for a moment, but her smile broadened. “I’d like that.”

  Then, she gave me a sharp nod and turned, hurrying away as if her momentary lapse into friendliness had been a grave mistake.

  I moved to the undraped windows and examined the casing. Although the thick material smelled musty, the wooden ledge was dust-free. A quick look toward the far, darker end of the hallway told me whoever had cleaned here hadn’t made it to the other end.

  Sounds were muffled here, reminding me of a library . . . or funeral home. As I strolled over the old floorboards to the heavily draped end of the hall, every tap of my shoes only echoed dully against the thick blank walls.

  From what I’d been told, it’d been years since anyone had lived here. It looked like decades.

  The cobwebs seemed to grow as I moved down the corridor, drooping from the corners and the low-hanging chandeliers.

  To lighten the area, I grabbed one of the heavy curtains and pulled. After jumping out of a dust shower, I managed to draw it back a little before I heard a ripping sound.

  I stopped, happy that at least a small stream of bright sunlight braved the gloom.

  I chose to begin in the room at the very end of the corridor. My feet sunk into deep-pile carpeting as I approached the nearest armchair, which faced the chamber.

  This end of the house was as far from the lake as one could get while indoors, and it relieved me that few sounds from outside would make their way in to disturb me.

  I carefully pulled a sheet from the chair, but despite my best efforts, I coughed as dust flew. I plopped into the soft seat and tugged my graph paper out of my satchel to sketch this area’s existing lighting. I put a pencil to paper and pulled in
a slow breath. Anticipation swelled in me, and I crossed and uncrossed my legs as I chose which side of the room to begin on.

  This was it. My first large job, and maybe the beginning of my own real career. I sent a silent thank you to everyone who had helped me get to this point and got to work.

  The ideas poured in. The old-world feel of the room appealed to me. Its still-gorgeous hand-carved moldings and mantel details were in decent repair. They would only require a little work. I wanted my design to complement the existing room. Was that what Michael had in mind? If so, many of the fixtures could be reworked or repurposed for future use.

  I believed the ideas floated in our early emails just might work: keep the antique craftsmanship, but refit for modern convenience.

  I ignored everything but the room and my sketchpad until a soft scuff directly behind me broke the silence.

  The hairs on my arm raised. Out of the side of my eye, a hand moved for my shoulder.

  “Boo!”

  I jumped to my feet and whirled. “Sean! What are you doing?”

  “I couldn’t help myself. You were so into whatever you were doing.” He glanced around. “Kinda creepy down this hall, uh?”

  I looked at my drawing and sagged. A black pencil slash ran right down the middle. It was ruined and needed to be redrawn.

  “Speaking of creepy,” Sean continued, sobering up. “They found the guy.”

  “Oh, no,” I whispered.

  “Seems like he’s been there a while.”

  “A while?”

  “I don’t know. Since he disappeared, I guess.”

  “How terrible.” A chill raced through me, and I shuddered.

  “Yeah.” Sean looked at the floor. “Anyway, I came to take you back for lunch. Mrs. Baker is getting it laid out.”

  I grimaced, not sure I was hungry after that news. “Will Mich—Mr. Langley be there? I’d like to run some ideas past him.”

  “Probably. He’s got to eat. I heard Lisa say that the police crew was invited to stay too.”

  I swallowed, unsure what that group would find acceptable lunch small talk.

  Chapter 8

  I was disappointed to find Michael didn’t make an appearance at lunch and relieved the police officers left any talk of work outside the room.

  Toward the end of the meal, I caught Lisa's attention when she walked into the dining room to take away some plates. “I need to speak with Mr. Langley. Do you know where he is?”

  “I just took a plate to him. He’s in his study, but he looked pretty busy.”

  I bite the inside of my lip. Perhaps I shouldn’t bother him.

  “But if it’s about work,” she continued. “I’m sure he’d make the time.”

  “Yes, it’s about work.” Of course, it was. What was she insinuating?

  Lisa leaned toward me. “I tried. With his looks, who wouldn’t?” She winked and smiled as she strolled back to the kitchen.

  My face warmed, and I examined my motives for tracking the man down. In the end, I reassured myself this was strictly business and rose from my chair, saying goodbye to the men around the table.

  I made my way through the front hall and to the door I’d seen Mrs. Baker disappear into yesterday. I paused there for a moment as I gathered my thoughts, or maybe it was my courage. After hauling in a deep breath, I knocked on the hardwood door. The dull thud sounded feeble.

  “What?” Michael’s growly voice barked from the other side.

  The urge to turn and run filled me, but, instead, I squared my shoulders. He was my employer, not the dark beast he sounded like.

  With more hesitation than I would admit, I shoved at one of the two massive doors. When it was wide enough, I slipped through.

  I stood there, squeezing my hands together as I scanned the place, looking for him. It was everything I would have imagined. Enormous desk, walls lined with books, and any item that could be wood was thick with it.

  Mr. Langley moved from behind one of the tall bookshelves. Until then, I hadn’t noticed there were rows of them. How big was this room?

  “Mrs. Baker,” he grumbled without looking up from the papers he studied. “How many times must I repeat that I will not be disturbed when I am in here?”

  I wrapped my arms around my waist and cleared my suddenly foggy throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. Langley. I didn’t realize. I can—can come back later.”

  His head shot up, and he eyed me as if shocked I’d dared to enter his lair. “Abigail!”

  I turned for the hallway. “I’ll go.”

  Michael hurried toward my side of the room. His arm brushed mine as he leaned past me to gently push the door closed. My suddenly sensitive skin broke out into goosebumps.

  “I apologize. You wouldn’t have known,” Michael said as he straightened and took a small step back. “I have a one track mind when I’m working. Please accept my apology.”

  Even from where he stood, I felt his warmth, and my gaze darted from him to the closed door. “If this is a bad time, I understand, Mr. Langley.”

  “It’s not, but you can go if you want. I’d rather hear what you came to say. And it’s Michael. I thought we had moved past the formalities. Did I ruin that? Please, don’t let me have ruined that.”

  He gave me a slow smile. Dazzled by the combination of his grin with those sparkling blue eyes, I stammered out, “Of course not.”

  He continued to apologize. “I’m sorry I barked at you. I haven’t been sleeping well and it’s been a bad day.”

  “I was sorry to hear the awful news.”

  “Yes. It was horrible, especially for his wife.” Michael sighed and shook his head. “But let’s discuss why you are here. The distraction will be nice.”

  My stomach tensed. “Well, I’ve thought of a direction I’d like to go with the lighting, but wanted to run it by you before moving ahead.”

  Michael put a hand to the small of my back and ushered me further into his library, toward a massive black walnut desk. On it sat a blueprint and when I leaned forward to study it, he quickly rolled it up. I couldn’t be sure with such a brief glimpse, but it had seemed to be part of the basement.

  I gave Michael a quick glance as he moved the large papers to a side table and pulled another from a shelf underneath. “Here. This is the one we need,” he said, laying the new sheets on the desk.

  We stood side by side, peering at it. Somehow, I succeeded in keeping my voice even and businesslike even as his shoulder casually leaned into mine. His cologne messed with my head. And when he turned my way to talk, I had to glue my gaze to his so it would not drift to his lips. His eyes had their own dangers, though.

  My hands tightened tighter and tighter around the edge of the desk. I managed, though surely not well, to make it through the meeting.

  Afterward, I pushed off the desk and took a step away from Michael, but he followed me.

  When I folded my arms across myself, he lightly touched a forearm and gave me a sad smile. “Always on guard. You don’t have to be, you know.”

  When my startled gaze flew to his, Michael seemed uncertain. He stepped back, giving me more room. “Perhaps I’ve read the situation wrong. I’d like to get to know you better, but I’ll keep my distance and leave it up to you.”

  Really? A man like him wanted to get to know me? What would it be like to stand by his side? If things went well, he could offer me something I’d always craved and never had. Stability. It was there in every move he made, and it was the most likely reason I was so attracted to him—besides his good looks, of course.

  I returned his smile with a tiny grin of my own. “But business first. Friends until that is over.”

  “Yes. I reckoned that would be your way, and I respect that. But I’m going to be clear. When business is over, I’m asking you on a date.”

  My face warmed, and I nodded. “I’ll look forward to that.”

  After saying goodbye, I nearly danced out of the library. It was very hard that afternoon to keep my mind on my work.


  Blue eyes and a flirtatious grin kept coming to mind.

  By that evening though, I was sure I was a fool. Even as I sat by Michael’s side at dinner, enjoying our pleasant conversation, I doubted a man like him would have a real romantic interest in me.

  I took in the rich furnishings of the room and the fine Italian linens Mrs. Baker had added to the sideboard and table. My weekly wages would never afford such luxury. Did Michael know how poor and pathetic I was?

  There was no way Michael was offering anything more than a fling. I let my gaze drift to my plate as I ate what now seemed like a tasteless meal.

  What was wrong with me? Why did I care so much? I’d met the man yesterday.

  I recalled a conversation I’d had with my former boss about her husband. She’d said that sometimes you just know, right from the very beginning. At the time, I’d laughed at her. Now I wasn’t so sure.

  I glanced at Michael from the corner of my eye. His face brightened, and he flashed me that smile.

  One thing was for certain, there was something about this man that was different from any other I’d met.

  Chapter 9

  I woke in the middle of the night to the same far-off clanging. This time I couldn’t pretend it was some distant dream.

  I sighed and turned over in bed, annoyed I was such a light sleeper. The noise might be a couple stories down, but to me, every beat of the hammer rang clear in the dark silence.

  A few more hits had me grinding my teeth. I bolted up, throwing my blankets to the side. Surely the workmen knew people were trying to sleep.

  Exactly where was that sound coming from?

  I stumbled out of bed, padding across the cool wood floor in my bare feet. On the other side of the room, it was barely audible.

  I moved back toward the bed and peeked down the small space behind the headboard. Nothing. Then crouching to the floor and searching under the bed, I found it. A small old-fashioned vent sitting low on the wall.