Secret Reflection (18 page)

He slid his finger upward till he traced the cleft between her thighs. Her moisture coated his fingertip and he felt his whole body begin to pulse. With his other hand, he slid down the zipper of his pants and pushed down the front of his briefs.

She looked down at his penis, red and stiff, and giggled again. ‘Does my Ricky want me?’ she asked, all coy and playful.

He didn’t want to be playful. He wanted to fuck her. Grabbing her hips roughly, he dragged her down and impaled her. The tight heat of her made him groan deep in his throat. ‘C’mon, Dee, make me forget all about Kelly,’ he whispered.

His words had the desired effect. Whether out of jealousy or anger, she ground herself down on him till he was so deep he thought she had swallowed him whole. The fire inside her sent him racing towards the edge. He didn’t need to move. She lifted slightly then ground him deeper. Once, twice, and then he felt it. The heat came hurtling through him in a rush and he exploded inside her, the breaths heaving from his chest with the suddenness of it. His entire body shuddered.

She went still a moment then she balled her fist and thumped his leg. Hard. ‘That’s not fair! You’re supposed to wait for me.’

‘Who says? Your fault anyway – you’ve gotten far too good at this.’

She slanted him a look that said he wasn’t yet forgiven.

‘C’mon, Dee,’ he wheedled as he reached down to touch her from the front. ‘Open up and we’ll see what we can do,’ he said, nibbling on her neck.

Obediently, she parted her legs further and sighed.

By the time Tom had pulled into the drive in front of the manor, the champagne had taken its toll on Kelly. She rarely drank in the daytime but Richard had seemed intent on keeping her glass full all afternoon. How many she’d had, she didn’t quite remember, but the throbbing that had begun at the back of her eyes when they passed the village of Buscot, now loomed as a fully-fledged migraine. Eager to find her medication before it hit hard, Kelly excused herself as soon as the car halted before the steps.

It didn’t surprise her that John stood in the mirror waiting for her.

‘Before you say a word, I’ve got a migraine. I’m going to sleep. Stay or go, I don’t care.’ Clutching her forehead, she went though to the bathroom before he could respond and fumbled around for her Imitrex. As she inhaled it, she knew it was already too late to escape the worst. Zig-zagged lines had begun to flash across her vision and the pounding had become one long intense stab of pain.

Back in the room she ignored the man in the mirror as she drew the heavy drapes. She stripped off her jeans – not caring what her prudish ghost thought as she stood before him in her t-shirt and lacy black briefs.

‘I can see you are unwell, Kelly, so I will leave you in peace,’ he said in a soft voice, ‘but before I go, may I ask what a migraine is?’

She turned and said slowly, ‘It’s a kind of headache … one that is so bad I can’t stand light or sound … sometimes it makes me vomit.’

With a sage nod he gave her a gentle smile. ‘Then I bid you recover with all speed. Sleep well.’

Even through her pain-filled haze she recognised the compassion in his voice. She would have muttered her thanks but it hurt too much to talk.

She dragged back the covers from the bed and very gingerly climbed beneath the starched cotton to seek oblivion. The sheets were cold but she relished the sensation as it made her forget, for just a moment, the desperate pain. With a groan she let her head be cradled by the feather-soft pillow.

John didn’t leave. He felt compelled to stay and watch over her. Part of him wished he could go to her and lay down beside her tiny body, protect her with his strong arms as he had failed to protect both Elizabeth and Anne.

Every little while she would turn and whimper as if the pain had become too great to bear, and each time he felt his gut clench at the impotence of being trapped behind this wall of glass, unable to soothe her hurt. His mother sometimes suffered sick headaches that the doctor called
megrim
. Laudanum had been the only cure for her.

Around midnight he was relieved to see Nancy creep into the room.

Sitting on the side of the bed, she wiped the hair from Kelly’s eyes. ‘How’re you doing, kiddo?’ she whispered.

‘Bit better,’ Kelly answered.

‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No – just need to sleep … should be okay in the morning.’

Nancy again wiped Kelly’s forehead. ‘Just yell if you need me.’

Kelly grabbed Nancy’s hand and rubbed it against her cheek. ‘You’re a good friend, Nance. I love you.’

‘Me too. I’m just down the hall if you need me. Sleep.’ Nancy rose and quietly left the room, leaving the door ajar enough that she’d be able to hear if Kelly called.

John sighed to himself, thinking that he would trade virtually anything he owned to have a friend who cared so deeply. The irony, of course, was that he had nothing he could trade. Everything had been taken from him long ago and, apart from his honour, he really had nothing of any worth to offer to anyone of this world. Certainly nothing to offer the woman lying in his bed.

He kept vigil through the night and beyond – after all, he had time in abundance and it gave him a feeling of inner warmth merely to watch her. Kelly slept until nearly three the next afternoon and when she finally came fully awake, he could see that the shadows had all but cleared from her eyes. Her cheeks were still pale and she looked thinner but he sensed the presence of that small spark of defiance in her demeanour that he’d come to find most intriguing.

Day Seven

The door swung open. Nancy entered carrying a tray with tea and small sandwiches, and a parcel, which, from its odd shape, Kelly assumed to be the returned hand mirror.

‘Thought you might be awake,’ Nancy whispered as she placed the tray upon the writing desk. ‘Any better?’

Kelly sat up and smiled her appreciation. ‘Much.’

‘Good. I’ve brought you some food. Did you want me to call Richard and tell him you can’t make dinner?’

Kelly groaned to herself, then shook her head. ‘No. I’ve already reneged once, I don’t really think it’d be polite to do it again. Besides, I’d like to ask him a few questions about our phantom.’

Nancy glanced up at the mirror. ‘Is he there now?’

Kelly shook her head, feeling a strange sense of disappointment. ‘Haven’t seen him today.’

‘I wish I could see him, too.’

‘So do I – it would make things a heck of a lot easier for me. I still don’t know what to think.’ Even as she said those words, she knew that she had started to waver. Every time he appeared a spurt of adrenalin rushed through her and if she didn’t know better she would swear she was back in school experiencing the beginnings of her first crush.

Nancy grinned. ‘Well it is early stages. You can take as much time as you like to be certain – just so long as it is before the newspaper deadline. The story needs to go into the paper in time for the grand opening.’

‘And when is that?’

‘The deadline is next Saturday.’

‘Saturday?’ Kelly scowled. ‘Thanks for telling me this now. You mean I have a week to prove he is a hoax?’

‘No. You have a week to realise he is a genuine ghost,’ she said with a cheeky look as she placed the tray on Kelly’s lap. ‘Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll know by then. Now eat up and take a leisurely bath before Richard arrives.’

As soon as Nancy had gone John materialised.

‘You are going to visit that man’s home?’ he said in a tone of disapproval.

Setting the food tray aside she threw back the covers. She knew she was still in her underwear but he wasn’t seeing any more than if she paraded in front of him in a bikini. Well – not much more … the lacy bra was a little more translucent than her bikini top, but only just. She glanced up to gauge his reaction and had to suppress a devilish chuckle when his neck started to go very red.

‘Yes, I am. Richard is cooking me dinner,’ she strolled nonchalantly toward the dressing closet. At the door she turned and threw him a coy smile. ‘I’m going to bathe … I’ll be back in a short while.’

Once inside the closet she stopped and took a deep breath. She didn’t know why she wanted to toy with him but that slightly wicked side of her that Frank had unleashed in the heady, early days of their marriage appeared to have resurfaced. Thinking about it she knew that if he really was who said he was, taunting him like that was cruel to the extreme. But she didn’t
want
to believe he was real and to keep her sanity she needed to assume that no matter how attractive or how endearing he seemed, he was, in fact, a fraud. That – or a murderer. Either way he wasn’t the kind of man she could or should become involved with … even if he had the most seductive eyes she’d ever come across and was, as Nancy had said, sexy as hell.

‘Madam!’ he exclaimed half an hour later when she stepped into the room in a daring black teddy and lacy-topped stockings.

‘What?’ she asked with an air of innocence as she gathered her watch from the table. Before he could reply she turned around to march straight back into the dressing room. She grinned as she donned a demure wrap-around skirt and matching blouse with three-quarter sleeves. Both were black and silky, and outlined her curves. In this outfit she felt very feminine, and the underwear, though safely covered, made her feel just that little bit daring.

When she returned and saw the look of discomfort on his face, guilt filled her chest. Her little game had obviously upset him.

‘How do I look?’ she asked, twirling about.

He blinked as if surprised by her question. ‘I confess I cannot comment on women’s fashions, Kelly. Your garments are vastly different from those that adorned the ladies of my day.’

‘Surely you’ve seen other women since then.’

‘Certainly. But there have been long periods when I was the sole occupant of this house.’

‘How long?’

He seemed to think hard before answering. ‘I believe the longest period was shortly after the war that some of the men called the Great War. For some three years and seven months, the only other person to enter this house was a gamekeeper. The man would stop in the foyer and check the locks were secure once every week, and then leave.’

‘Three and a half years? Alone?’ She couldn’t begin to imagine what it would be like to be imprisoned in this vast place, all alone, for that length of time. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she shook her head and stepped into her evening shoes. ‘Didn’t you go crazy?’

‘It is true there were moments when I did think it. But, in all honesty, I have thought myself insane much of the past 140 years. You see, I did not believe such sorcery existed that could place me here. There have been many times when I most fervently wished I
would simply awaken to find the whole affair merely a nightmare. But alas, that has not eventuated. So I must believe.

‘Yet, the long days and nights have left me weary. I would end it if I could.’

Kelly’s eyes widened as she took in the meaning of his words. ‘Are you saying you would commit suicide?’

He stared at her; pain and something wistful seemed to pass over him.

‘In truth, I do not know if I could have done such a deed.’ He averted his eyes as his voice dropped to a murmur. ‘As you once said, Madam, I am a coward.’

Her heart faltered. She’d had no idea that she’d hurt him so much, but his expression said otherwise. She went to the mirror, splaying her hand upon the glass in an impotent gesture of comfort. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ she whispered. ‘If you have lived and coped for all this time, you’d have to be the bravest man I’ve met.’

He looked at her, hope flaring tentatively in his eyes. ‘If only that were so.’ He reached out his hand as if to join hers on the glass, and for the shortest instant, a spark, like static electricity, arced through her fingertips. Shocked, she snatched her hand from the glass and stepped back.

John’s hand dropped as if her withdrawal was but another sign of his utter hopelessness. The same sense of vulnerability she’d seen whenever he spoke of Elizabeth’s death came over him like a shroud.

Seeing his pain she wanted to explain, to reassure him, but as she thought about it she knew there was no way she ever could. He was stuck in a world she could not enter, could not begin to understand. All she could do was find the journal and release him.

But would release mean his death? It was something she hadn’t dared let herself think about.

‘Can I ask a question?’

He nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘If I do manage to find the journal and release you, will you die?’

Both hope and fear played across his face and for a long beat he seemed suspended. Then he sighed and his lips lifted in a gentle half-smile. ‘While I cannot say for a certainty, I assume that since I have survived long past my allotted lifetime, that death will be the most likely result.’

‘Do you really want to die?’ She stepped closer to the mirror again, compelled by the horror that she might be helping him toward his own annihilation.

Another sigh escaped his lips. He closed his eyes as if he could block out the reality of the question by refusing to see. Yet when he opened them again, she saw a bitter resolve written there.

‘Although, at present, I have the means to communicate … over the past 140 years there have been little more than 100 days, perhaps fewer, when I could be seen as well as heard. Few believed me. Most ran in fear of the dreaded Stanthorpe ghost. The rest of the time my words are but a murmur in the dark. I cannot touch, cannot sleep, cannot even rest. Would death not be preferable to that?’

He didn’t wait for her answer and she didn’t try to call him back. Her stomach twisted with an ache that reminded her of the hollow pain of Frank’s betrayal. Yet this was different, because she wasn’t feeling it for herself – she felt it for him. If all John said was true, then he’d already endured hell for a very long time.

As she went to gather her purse, she realised that in a matter of a week, she had gone from total disbelief to allowing the possibility that he did, indeed, speak the truth. She didn’t quite understand how or why she’d changed, but she so wanted to believe him, believe in him. All kinds of strange emotions were stirring within her. Pity was high on the list, of course, but also other feelings, nameless feelings she thought had died along with her marriage.