Return to Rhonan

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and events are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 Katy Walters

All rights reserved

To
my dear sister
Helen

Blogsite: 
http://katysreviewsandnews.blogspot.co.uk/

Bookcover: 
http://www.indiedesignz.com/

                                
                   
PROLOGUE

Surely,
he
will
return
?
  She dwelt on his last words, ‘Stay safe my sweet – I
love you.’

Her voice echoed through the empty room. ‘Duncan
– I need you – come back.’

S
he peered through a window darker than night – a pale face looking out onto
a world so different from the one she remembered.
Once a place of pride, life and love,
the Manor
now stood
derelict.
S
he looked
across
overgrown
grounds
to the drive covered in fallen branches. She was alone waiting – ever roaming the
deserted
rooms
– searching.
Scarlet tendrils of hair dimmed by the dust of centuries hung to a slender waist
.
As she lifted the tattered curtain, light from a gibbous moon shone through the skeletal hand.

Had he ever received her message?
Surely, their love could never die? 
Must she
wander
through
eternity
alone?
 

‘Duncan, don’t leave me
. Don’t leave me
with this pain,’ she whispered, tears streaming down mouldering cheeks. ‘Duncan … please don’t leave me.’ Gliding
on
dead leaves strewn
over
a
malodourous
carpet, she reached the
far w
indow
.
  Maybe he was by the lake …
but the lake looked back, dark and rank, polluted
with decaying
reeds. She was alone.
Had he forgotten
the
oath the
y
pledged? ‘Forever United.’  It seemed Death’s
steel
sickle sliced through dreams, destroying love.
 

The boy crept through
tangled bushes,
his eyes fixed on ivy greedily digging into stone hewn walls. 
Was it really haunted?
Did the
red
lady walk the rooms?
Were there ghouls and gibbering demons?
Why did he accept the dare?  Silly sod, he didn’t want to appear a coward in front of Melissa.
He just prayed he didn’t see anything.
Warily, legs trembling, he crept to the window, his heart thudding as he gazed up at crumbling parapets jagged against clouds etched in charcoal. His hand shook, as he wiped the glass begrimed with moss.  He had to do it, the others watched in safety from a distant copse of silver birch. Just one look and he’d done it.  The boy shrieked, as a figure hovered before him, her eyes vivid green gleaming in the hollow sockets
of a skull
.  Where was her face? He clasped his mouth
,
as he saw shreds of putrefied skin dropping to her neck.  Stepping backwards, he turned and ran, his chest too tight to scream, the only noises he made were squeaks and grunts of terror. He turned his head just once passing the lake, was she following?

The fleeing boy did not see the pale face watching him, calling, an emaciated hand tapping the
fractured glass.
Sobbing, the ghostly figure crept from the window bending her head to a small bundle in her arms.
The covering fell to reveal a tiny skeletal head gleaming
the colour of
soft ivory, minute jaws opening - clacking, searching for a transparent nipple. 
Lowering herself onto a cushioned chair, the pink satin covering now mildewed, she stroked the infant’s head as she crooned, ‘Bye Baby Bunting Daddy’s gone a hunting…

CHAPTER
1

‘Six million pounds?’ 

The sun bounced off the solicitor’s bald pink pate as he nodded, Douglas Mavebury felt sand churn in his stomach.  Within seconds, he’d gone from struggling to pay the mortgage on a flat in Bognor Regis, England, to a multimillionaire with a
derelict
Manor House and a ruined castle in the wilds of North-West Scotland.

His heart jumped into his throat as he watched the equally pink fingers of the Solicitor turn the page as he informed Douglas that he also inherited the title Earl of Rhonan from a distant relative, a Lord Richard Mavebury.

He turned to see his brother’s mouth drop
open; fingers
tremble as he flicked back a lock of dark blond hair.  ‘You’re a millionaire.’

Douglas’s voice grated like gravel falling on tin. ‘Good God.’

He waited as the Solicitor Mr. Edward Pevensey polished his glasses. ‘Yes. Some of your family members are not long-lived or die childless so the title is free. None of them stay very long anyway.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s haunted – haunted.’ He pulled
down
his cuffs as if to make a point.

Douglas laughed, ‘Come off
it; you're
joking.’

‘My dear Sir, I would not joke about such a serious matter.’

‘So who or what is doing the haunting?

  ‘Seems the ghost of Muriall – appears – the lost love of Lord Duncan.’

 
‘Really? ‘

 
‘Yes, Muriall was the penniless ward of the Earl – she disappeared or died. I think he was in London when she disappeared.  There is talk that she bore his child. Now it seems she has returned to haunt
the Manor. However,
they say there’s a darker current there – nothing to do with her, although she’s reported to be terrifying enough.’

‘Darker current?’

‘Yes – there was a Hell Fire Club – quite notorious in its time – held in the caves underneath the castle ruins – conjuring up demons.
Ru
mour has it that Lord Maximillian the Earl’s second son played an important part.’

Douglas frowned, ‘Ghosts?  Hell Fire Club? Load of rubbish.  Just, a group of perverts.’

Pevensey interrupted, ‘Hardly Sir, but I won’t go into details.’ He added quietly, ‘You should be careful what you say. ‘Ghosts can be quite evil when crossed and as for demons?’  He shrugged his shoulders
,
as he continued, ‘There have been a few people drowned in the lake in horrific circumstances, let alone the ones we don’t know of.’

Douglas raised his eyebrows, superstitious nonsense. 
‘How long is it since this since this distant relative passed away?’  

‘Twelve years Sir.  Since then, we’ve advertised in the newspapers, the Times, Guardian.’

‘Sheer fluke I read the
paper
– needed
an article for an art class.’

The Solicitor smiled, showing a smooth set of veneers as he leant forward
.
‘Now let’s get to the nitty gritty, the Will and the Entailment.
The Manor House was originally limited to male lineal
descendants
. However, just before his death, Lord Duncan Mavebury, Earl of Rhonan, changed the Entailment, so that the heir could be either male or female and not a direct descendent of the deceased Earl.’

Douglas raised his eyebrows. ‘That was really stretching the rules then?’

Pevensey nodded.  ‘
Quite.
Now, you are not a direct descendent of the Lord Duncan
,
but you are a descendent of his brother, Lord
Guy,
who took the title and demesne.  Lord Guy was the third son of the Earl.’ 

‘You know there was some romantic rumour of a lord in the family, but that’s all it was.’ 

Pevensey looked at the two younger men, ‘Can I offer you a drink?  Whisky – Gin - Sherry?’

Seeing Nathan's nod, Douglas said, ‘Make those two whiskeys please.’ 

‘Ginger? Ice?’

‘No – no.  Straight thanks.’    

Pouring the whiskey into crystal tumblers Pevensey continued.  ‘Now Lord Duncan also added a codicil.   Unfortunately, it’s not good news.’   

Douglas shrugged, uncomfortable in a navy suit he kept for weddings and funerals. Nathan as usual was easy in
a padded
jacket, frayed jeans and trainers.  At
least,
the trainers were new
.

Pevensey continued.  ‘The codicil stipulates that if a true direct descendent of Lord Duncan appears, then the demesne together with all monies would immediately be transferred to him or her.  Now there are only
another eighteen months
left before it becomes null and void.   At which time, you will have no further worries.’

Douglas drank some of the whiskey, enjoying the fire in his gullet.  ‘So has anyone come forward yet?’

Pevensey looked up, the sun catching on his rimless spectacles. ‘Frauds, the lot of them. They’re still coming out of the woodwork.’

Douglas
said,
‘So we could kiss the Manor and land good bye then.’

‘I’m afraid so. 
However, let’s talk about
the money.
Some must be used
for
the upkeep and renovation of the Manor and ground. It is sadly in need of renovation.  The castle is a ruin but can be renovated if there are sufficient funds.’ 

Tapping his fingers on the papers Pevensey said, ‘
There is also another codicil – strange but must be upheld. He lifted another page of heavy parchment.  ‘Lord Duncan built a Mausoleum on an island
on
the lake.  In it are two coffins. I’ll read you this bit, “The marble coffin is to remain empty until Muriall
Mondell
returns, either in her physical form or that of her spirit
.
In
death,
we are reunited.”  Strange I know.
Furthermore, t
he mausoleum must remain unlocked.  Therefore, the rumours about her bearing him a child could be true.’