Return to Rhonan (3 page)

The dining room appeared vast.  The darker spaces on the burgundy wall showed traces of paintings taken down, whilst dust sheets covered the chairs. A magnificent oak dresser with lead lined glass; grey with grime and dust stood to one wall.  Douglas muttered ‘This would seat quite a few people – just right.’  He looked at his reflection in a huge gilt framed mirror with aging black patches, jumping back as the surface appeared to ripple. Blinking his eyes, he tried to readjust his sight.  The mirror must be ancient. It would have to be re-silvered.

Another door led into what must have been the ballroom with bay windows overlooking the lawns whilst another led into a long rectangular dining room, the rich red brocade wallpaper peeling, again darker patches showed where paintings once hung.

Nat said, ‘Make a good bar you know.’  He shivered as they entered a long stone corridor, which led to a wood galleried kitchen. Looking up at the carved gallery some sixteen feet high stretching along the whole length of one stone wall Nat said, ‘What’s the gallery for then?’

Magnificent isn’t it?  Every morning the lady of the house would enter through the door to stand on the gallery and throw down the day’s menu to the kitchen servants.  Didn’t want any contact with them.  In those days, they were afraid of lice jumping on them. You can catch cholera or typhus from fleas.’

‘That’s sickening, and they did the cooking. Yuck.’

‘The servants would have been clean, but lice lived in the seams and hems of clothes.’    

Nat gazed up at the gallery, picturing the lady of the house or the maid throwing down the day’s menu.  ‘Life was risky in those days.’

Douglas turned to the door.   ‘Better see the state of the bedrooms.’

Together they climbed the central staircase leading to a landing with corridors off both sides. The master bedroom held a magnificent four-poster bed with Tudor roses carved in the central panes of the head and footboards.  Douglas swept his hand over the headboard, ‘Not in bad nick. Needs a polish though.’

Nathan looked at the vast oak carved wardrobe.  ‘Look there’s a huge wicker basket here, must’ve been for the dogs.’ Strolling over to the wardrobe, he said, ‘Look, the last owners even left clothes in here.'

‘Yeah, Pevensey did say they left in a hurry.’      

Douglas stopped abruptly.  ‘Can you smell that?  It’s like ozone – seaweed?’

‘Nathan frowned, ‘Yeah you’re right.’

‘Strange.’

‘Yeah, but we not far from the sea so maybe the wind’s blowing this way.’

CHAPTER 4

She knew even before the cell phone vibrated, even before she clicked on the text.

‘Mom passed away – 10 mins ago.  Wait for U at home. Unc Tim.’

Fighting back fat tears she texted back: ‘Will be 20 mins. Got client.’

Jessica looked over to her patient deep in hypnotic trance.  It would take time to bring her back from a Past Life, time that no longer existed for her step-mother. She wanted to squash time, to be with her immediately.   

Grief flayed her heart, as she struggled to keep calm. Jolting a person out of a Past Life could cause cardiac arrest. Often on surfacing from a deep trance, patients were excited and eager to tell of their experiences. Mystified, others
told of a life
in
a distant age, whilst a few returned heartbroken. It took time to bring them back fully into this life.

‘Megan, I want you to start coming back now.   As I count to five, so you are leaving the past in the past where it belongs, you are bringing nothing with you.  You will be calm, relaxed and confident.  So now, one ... two....’ 

***

Standing by her stepmother’s still body, Jessica felt an icy breeze swirl through the open window, b
lowing
the voile curtains around her face. Smoothing down the folds, she shivered, unaware of a transparent figure float through to hover by her side. Her tears fell, as she recalled their latest argument. ‘You can’t desert us.  This isn’t just a business; it’s in our blood.’

‘Your blood Mom, not mine.’

‘This is an empire you’re throwing away. Our ancestors started with nothing – forced onto coffin ships
from
Scotland
.
So many died.’ 

Jessica turned away, ready to leave the kitchen. ‘That was over two hundred years ago. I can’t live my life in the past.’

‘Grandma Morag worked day and night washing, cooking, scrubbing until the blood ran.  Some winters she damn well starved. She knew what it was to suffer. She built an empire from a
lodging
shack for lumberjacks.’

   ‘I can’t give up my life - it’s just a business.’

   ‘She’ll haunt you – there’re some in the family have seen her.’

   ‘Why should she haunt me for doing what I believe in?’  

Now, Jessie knelt by the side of the bed, her hot tears falling on the still hand, as she said, ‘I’m sorry, so sorry.’ She sobbed laying her head on the still chest, her long red hair covering them both. 

Jessie raised her head to the squeak of the bedroom door opening. ‘Uncle Tim?  Oh God – I want her back – I want her back.’  She clung on to her stepmother’s hand trying to pull her from Death.  But, Death grinned. 

An elderly man strode across to the four-poster bed.  ‘Jessie, my dear child.  It’s an awful shock....’ 

‘I wish I hadn’t hurt her. But, I couldn’t go into the business. Why didn’t she understand?’

‘Prissy loved you Jess, but she was a strong woman. Had to be, to run an empire. It was in her blood, her main reason for living besides you.’

‘My heart is in psychology. I never wanted anything else.’

‘You’re so like
your
birth
mother. Now it was her ambition to be a nurse, but she had you instead. You follow her Jess.  She’d have been so proud of you.’

‘Why did she leave me?  Why did she take her life Uncle Tim? I just wish I
knew 
her. I killed her didn’t I?’

    ‘Now, now Jess don’t say that.  No one realized she was ill. Prissy blamed herself for not seeing the signs – we all did. But, Prissy loved you from the moment she laid eyes on you. Everything was for you.’

‘Now you make me feel awful. I should have—‘

‘No – no.  You gave Prissy something to live for – to love. Thank God you did; she could have been a monster.’

‘How can I go on without her?’

Taking her hand he said, ‘You have to be strong my darling.  He broke off as he sniffed the air. “Seaweed?  Now where is that coming from?’

Jessie smelt it too, ‘We’re not far from the docks.’

Neither saw the wraithlike figure beside her,
a skeletal arm reaching out.
Gently, the old man handed Jessie a tissue as he led her to a carved mahogany chair. ‘Come, come and sit down.’ 

‘I just wish my mother could have known.’

‘Maybe she does my darling – maybe she does.’

As the elderly man stooped to comfort her,
neither saw
the ghostly figure, stretched
emaciated fingers
to stroke Jessie’s bright hair
.

***

St. Brigid’s
thronged with mourners and parishioners paying their respects to Priscilla Elizabeth
McGregor.
Jessie sat at the front of the church
whilst r
epresentatives of charities, hospitals, orphanages, too many to name, packed the cathedral alongside friends and family.

She fingered the locket handed down through the generations from Grandma Morag.  Prissy always kept it locked away in her safe. Yet
,
as if having a premonition of her
death,
she
gave it
to
Jess
.
Jess could almost sense
her stepmother’s
fingers on the old gold
;
hear her voice. ‘This is for you now Jess
.
Keep it safe.
She
turned the page of the hymnbook her voice chok
ing
over the words, ‘Abide with me, fast falls the eventide.’  

Later at the reception, mingling among the guests, Jessie glanced
at t
he maids in black calf length dresses with frilled white aprons serv
ing
canapés whilst young male waiters offered drinks or champagne from sterling silver trays.  Struggling to keep her face composed,
she
looked over to her cousin Dinah, helping to carry the load of greeting and listening to the mourners who flocked to the wake. They’d been friends for years, sharing a room at University
.
Now they had a
t
herapy practice together.  Today, Dinah looked sophisticated with her pale white skin and
dark-brown hair
swept up into a sleek chignon, her ample curves snugly fitting a tailored black dress. 

Jess sighed as she picked up her drink.  The guests show
ed
signs of leaving.
She saw Dinah break away from a group and come towards
her.  ‘Jess, how are you keeping up?’

‘Not too good Di’  It just wish she’d had a
chance
to
go to Scotland – that was her dream you know, find a cottage
by a l
och
, search for our ancestors.’

‘Then why don’t we do
that?’

   Jess fel
t
the tears fill her eyes. ‘I’d
like to
Di’
,
but we can’t leave the pr
ac
tice.’

‘Already done.  I have two locums lined
up. 
They would be happy to take over for a few weeks.’

‘No – I couldn’t Di – not now. I’d be deserting her.’

‘Jess – you’d be closer to her – fulfilling her dream.  Her spirit would be with you in Scotland, in the land she loved.’
    ‘Look you need a
break,
we both do.’
 

                                                             ***

As sleep evaded her, Jessie laid thinking about the impending journey to Scotland.  The phantom figures of Muriall and Duncan rose in her mind. She didn’t even remember slipping into the dream, into their world.  

Muriall walked towards him; the soaking cheesecloth of her chemise clinging to every curve. As he looked up into her eyes, the colour of emeralds, he said, ‘You look like a mermaid, wet and beautiful.’

She fell on the blanket beside him, playfully shaking her soaked
Titian
locks over him. ‘I wish we could be together all the time Duncan –not escaping here when we can.
How long can we go on like this?
You know your father will find
out
. Max hasn’t said a word yet, but we can’t trust him.
If it isn’t
him,
it will be some spiteful servant who will tell him.
  Then your father will send me away.’

‘Never my sweet.  Father is frail, his health failing. His room stinks of potions and unguents.’

‘Don’t speak so; it is as if you wish his death. 

‘He is denying food and shelter to thousands, yes thousands of our tenants. He is about to evict whole families from their crofts.  He is treacherous, without pity for the men women and children starving on our estates.  One day we will rule Rhonan, and we will redeem our tenants, give them back their
tenures,
and they will thrive under our care.’

‘I hear tell from Alice and Robbie that many are thinking of emigrating – some say to America or Canada. It is something the Scots have always done throughout the centuries, but this emigration is far worse as they have no choice.’

‘So I shall tender to those who are left. One day Muriall, you will be Countess of Rhonan.’

Jessie moaned, as her eyes opened to the darkness of the room, her heart hammering. The dream had always been the same, but tonight there was a difference – tonight Duncan  spoke of his father, and one possible clue,
t
he Countess of Rhonan.  If there was any truth in dreams, then this was a definite lead.  Those three small letters ‘Mur’, on the tattered piece of paper handed down through the generations could possibly read Muriall.

CHAPTER 5

‘Exorcism?  For God’s sake.  Don’t be so damn stupid.’

Nathan’s eyes narrowed. ‘If you want people to work here, then we’ve got to go through with it.’