Secret Reflection (29 page)

Watching her friend’s joy made Kelly’s eyes well.

‘Let’s go to the local for a celebratory lunch,’ Nancy suggested. ‘We haven’t had lunch in the village for ages and I’m beginning to feel a bit cooped up around here.’

‘I promised to be over at Richard’s at one. He says he has some books and things at the coach house and the journal could be amongst them. Why don’t you two go and have a romantic lunch together?’

Nancy and Tom exchanged an emotionally charged look. ‘What do you say, Mrs Wentworth? Care to go on a date with your old hubby?’

‘I’d be honoured, Mr Wentworth.’

Kelly left them giggling like teenagers as she headed up the servants’ stair to her room.

John greeted her with a look of concern the instant she closed the door. ‘How did you fare in your interview with the constabulary?’ he asked.

‘Actually … not too bad. They just took my fingerprints and recorded a formal statement. Inspector Mathieson wasn’t even there.’

‘I have heard these “fingerprints” mentioned previously. What are they?’

She grinned and moved close to the mirror, holding up her hands. ‘See the swirling patterns on each of my fingertips? If you look closely, you’ll notice they’re all different.’ He nodded and cast her a questioning gaze. ‘Apparently, no two people have the same pattern, so the police use them to identify suspects. We leave prints on whatever we touch … there’s oil in the skin that stays on everything. The police use this special dust that shows the prints up, and then they match them against those they have on file.’

Eyes wide, John appeared completely astounded. ‘I saw them brushing black powder on your belongings when they were searching your room. I did wonder at it.

‘But how do they know that no two are the same? It must take many hours to compare the patterns.’

Kelly smiled, realising this explanation was going to take all day if she let it. ‘Well that’s where computers come in,’ she gestured to her laptop. ‘They kinda do the thinking for us … or in this case they compare the prints. The computer can look at thousands in just seconds.’

John shook his head in utter disbelief. ‘I am not certain I could ever live in your world, Kelly. It is far too confusing.’

Again she smiled. ‘I’m sure you’d catch on quickly enough,’ she assured him. She certainly hoped he would because she had every intention of releasing him from the mirrors and bringing him into the twenty-first century to be with her.

With each passing moment she became increasingly sure that he was the man she was meant to be with … the man she should have fallen for from the very first. If Frank hadn’t deceived her she would never have entertained marriage to him. But she’d been seduced by the temptation he represented: the temptation that he dangled before her like a prize.

Even now her father was fighting a court case against Frank to prevent him getting his hands on half of her trust fund. Thirteen million was a lot of money in anyone’s book. It was what Frank had been after all along, though she had been too deluded by his pretence of a grand passion to realise the fact.

Now she knew what grand passion could
really
be – though ironically she hadn’t even laid a finger on the man she knew would give her that. But in her heart she knew he would be the only one able to kindle that flame on every level of her being. That was why it was imperative that she keep her appointment with Richard, no matter the cost.

This time, she chose her clothing with a view to it repelling any amorous ideas that Richard might have. She wore belted, button-up jeans, hiking boots, a blouse that had about twenty tiny buttons that even she found difficult to undo and her fingers were quite small. Over that she had a sweater. And just for good measure, she wore the plainest, most unattractive underwear she owned. She hoped it wouldn’t get that far but she had to be ready for anything.

Feeling a little queasy, she opted to skip lunch and, after bidding farewell to Tom and Nancy, she sat back and spent an hour answering the myriad of questions that John asked about the various electrical devices in the house.

‘How long are you going to keep me here?’ Richard asked Inspector Mathieson as soon as he returned to the interview room.

Mathieson glanced up from the papers he was reading. ‘That depends on you, Mr Ditchley. I’m not satisfied you have told me the entire truth. When I am satisfied, if you are not under arrest, you may leave.’

‘But what more can I tell you?’ he begged in frustration. ‘Deanna used to do odd jobs on the estate to earn pocket money because her father was too tight to give her any. I don’t know what nonsense Will Montgomery has been telling you but I can assure you—’

‘Is there any reason why you do not wish to provide a DNA sample?’ Mathieson interrupted.

Narrowing his eyes Richard looked away. ‘I’m not about to provide anything until you tell me why I’m here. Am I under arrest?’

‘Not at this time.’

‘Then I can leave?’ He started to rise.

‘Remain seated, Mr Ditchley. We are a long way from being finished here.’

‘Then I expect I should call my solicitor.’

One of Mathieson’s thick brows rose. ‘Do you think you need a solicitor, Mr Ditchley?’

Richard ground his teeth. ‘I don’t know, but I’m not just going to sit here indefinitely so you can keep asking the same inane questions over and over. I’ll talk to my solicitor and we can take it from there.’ He crossed his arms, silently challenging the inspector to deny him further.

‘By all means,’ Mathieson smiled a cocky smile as he stood, ‘call your solicitor. While you’re at it, ask him what the penalties are for statutory rape. I’m sure you’ll find his answer most enlightening.’

Richard lifted his chin in defiance.

Mathieson placed an old-fashioned telephone on the table between them, then turned and left.

Richard watched him leave then sneered at the glass where he knew a whole bunch of other officers stood gawking at him. He’d seen all the police shows. He knew all about one-way glass.

Picking up the receiver he extracted the business card he had brought along just in case, at the same time wondering whether he might be able to place a call to Kelly as well. The man hadn’t said anything about being restricted to one phone call. Obviously he and Kelly couldn’t have their rendezvous this afternoon, it was a little before noon now and he was unlikely to get back home by one even if his lawyer could get him out of here. A shame, after last night he’d been so looking forward to finally seducing her.

After he spoke to the lawyer, he turned his chair to face the glass and crossed his legs nonchalantly. They had nothing on him except hearsay, and so long as he didn’t give them a DNA sample, he should be safe.

‘Hello?’ Kelly called as she pushed the front door of the coach house open. ‘Richard?’ When he didn’t answer she drew her brows together to form a crease at the top of her nose.

Maybe he was waiting for her in the bedroom, not even bothering to hide his intent.
Well, he’ll have a fight on his hands if that is his plan
.

After checking the kitchen, she moved cautiously down the short hallway, listening intently for any sign of life. She pushed open the bedroom door and let out a long slow sigh of relief when she found it empty as well. Her frown deepened. She didn’t understand it. He’d been so determined last night.

Still listening, she went from room to room then opened the rear door and walked around to the garage. Two cars filled the cavernous space.

‘He mustn’t have gone far,’ she mused as she went back inside.

Glancing at her watch, she returned to the living room to wait. She’d give him fifteen minutes. No more.

After sitting for a couple of those minutes, her nervousness got the better of her and she decided she might as well use the time to search through the crates and see if she could find the journal.

The top crate was half empty and Kelly could see that most of the books inside came from a time much later than the journal. Many appeared to be from the nineteen-fifties and sixties: classic cars and estate homes pictorials.

Didn’t he say he thought he’d found it?
If that were the case, then surely he’d have put it somewhere safe, she reasoned. Again she went from room to room. She had no real idea what the journal would look like, although she expected it to be similar to John’s since they would have been written around the same time.

The kitchen was as bare as the living room, although it took quite a while to discover the fact.
The bedroom?
She went through all the cupboards and drawers, in the process discovering that the man had more clothes and shoes than she had! Just as she was about to head out she noted something sticking out from under the bed. As she reached down to pick it up her heart started to hammer. It was a book, covered in dark brown leather. With shaky fingers she flipped it open and began to read …

July 16, 1860

My darling Elizabeth, it is lonely here in London without you. I know you promised your mother that you would celebrate her birthday at Canterbury with her, but this house is hollow and empty without the sound of your voice …

Flipping a few more pages she read further …

July 27, 1860

Oh, sweet Elizabeth. My heart is so full with my love for you. When do you return to me? John has been trying his best to keep me amused but I do not think he understands the depth of my need for your presence. Just to have you in the same room quells my restless soul. Please hurry home to me …

Kelly almost squealed out loud. This was it! It just had to be it!

The sound of a car door slamming outside made her breath catch. She crept silently to the window and through a narrow gap in the curtains peered out. Her heart rate doubled when she saw Richard standing beyond the garage talking to a portly gentleman in a pale grey suit. Richard gesticulated angrily while the suited man seemed to be trying to placate him.

God! I need to get out of here!
She had what she wanted so there was no need for her to stay and follow through on their bargain, the terms of which hadn’t even been decided upon. The men looked to be deep in conversation so she took the opportunity to steal out the back way. Easing the door shut as silently as she could, and with her heart hammering, she headed for a stand of oak trees that lined the back perimeter of the estate.
Beyond it was a heavily wooded area where she knew she could slip away if she moved quickly and quietly.

Though the air was cold, sweat trickled down her spine. She didn’t dare look back as she made the short dash across the open garden. As she rounded the trees, a thick root caught her boot and sent her sprawling to her knees. Smothering the yelp that threatened to give her away, she breathed in deep shuddering breaths as the pain that arced up her already-bruised knees peaked and began to ebb. She wanted to whimper but wouldn’t let herself. Instead, she bit her bottom lip hard.

When she could finally breathe easily again, she chanced a look behind and caught a glimpse of the trunk of the car, still parked beyond the drive.

Good, whoever the other man is, he’s keeping Richard distracted
.

She scrambled the last few yards until the trees completely obscured her from view.

Almost light-headed, she hid amongst the trees and studied the house for signs of movement, praying that he wouldn’t come looking for her yet.

Without conscious thought she started to circle towards Stanthorpe House, but after a few hundred yards it occurred to her that if she went back there Richard could find her straight away. It was imperative that she read the journal before he came to wrest it away, or worse, try to claim payment. Her hands, slippery with sweat, clutched the book to her chest. Inside the covers lay the answer to all her questions. Inside she would find a way to free the man she loved.

With that thought in mind she turned away from the house and started towards the main road under the cover of the trees. A small creek ran down this side of the estate and if she hiked along the edge, she could probably stay out of sight much of the way. She shook with every step knowing he could intercept her at any moment, but she pushed herself forward as fast as she could go.

A car door slammed and she ducked down; again her heart began to hammer. She crawled, crab-like across a short clearing, praying that Richard hadn’t yet discovered the journal was missing.

Glancing back as she descended into the small cutting formed by the creek, she saw that the car hadn’t yet moved and her heart finally began to slow knowing that she now had a little time. Perhaps she would walk into the village and find some cosy, but very public, spot to sit and read the journal. Even if he found her, he wouldn’t be able to make a scene in front of witnesses.

Taking her time, she picked over small thickets and crossed the tiny stream twice, drenching her shoes, until she was certain the coach house was completely obscured from view. Only then did she climb up the bank and head across the fields to the road. The two cows she passed didn’t seem the least perturbed by her presence.

When she reached Garford she found a small table in the dim interior of the pub where she felt relatively safe from probing eyes. Wishing she could take off her shoes, she dusted herself off, ordered a coffee and settled back to read. At first she thought to read the journal in its entirety, but after the first few pages she began flipping forward until around
the time she knew John had been incarcerated. The early entries were more like love letters than a personal diary and it was only around the time of Elizabeth’s death that the tone changed …

October 15, 1861

Dearest one, this morning I received a disquieting missive from Plunkett. While I do not accept as true the inference he makes, I nonetheless prepare to join you at Stanthorpe. I shall depart on the morrow when my business here in Southampton is complete
.

‘The ‘missive’ must be that note I gave to Barnsley,’ she mused aloud. She knew she should have rung him to learn his opinion of its authenticity but with all that’d been happening it had completely slipped her mind. She made a mental note to give him a call as soon as she returned to the house.