Secret Reflection (5 page)

‘If you’re finished, we’ll go.’

It was a command, so reminiscent of Frank’s manner in the months leading up to the divorce, that she almost faltered. But as she looked at the viscount’s guileless expression, she decided she really must slow down and learn more about the man before making any rash conclusions – after all, he’d gone out of his way to come by and show her over the estate.

‘I’ll show you the house before a picnic lunch then we’ll take a drive around the estate.

‘Do you have a jacket?’ he asked as they proceeded into the main hall.

‘Will I need one?’ she stopped and turned so suddenly he slammed into her and immediately grabbed her around the waist to prevent her falling. His cologne washed over her in a wave of musk and spice.

‘Gosh … sorry!’ She tried to step away even as his fingers tightened about her midriff. ‘I didn’t realise you were so close behind me.’

Slowly dropping his hands he took half a step back, a hint of a smile playing at his lips. ‘Quite alright … quite alright.’ The smile broadened. ‘And to answer your question, you
might be wise taking a jumper. Even though it is pleasant out, the wind can be bracing at this time of year.’

‘Jumper?’

‘I believe you Americans call them sweaters?’

‘Oh, okay. Would you mind waiting a minute while I dash up to my room to find something?’

‘Certainly.’

After taking the stairs two at a time, Kelly pulled up short when she found her bedroom door wouldn’t open. She twisted the knob left, then right, but the rotten thing wouldn’t budge. For a moment she wondered why Nancy hadn’t given her a key but when she looked at the antique brass fitting she understood why – there was no lock.

‘What the—?’

She jiggled again, this time using her weight to push against the door. For several long seconds she rattled and pushed to no avail, then suddenly the mechanism gave way and she went hurtling into the room, landing beside the bed on her knees.

‘Ow!’ she winced as the sting pulsed through both kneecaps. Sitting back, she drew up the legs of her jeans and inspected her aching knees. Both were red raw. ‘Crap – they’ll be bruised tomorrow.’

Thrusting her fingers through her unruly hair, she scowled at her reflection in the mirror.

With a pained sigh she dragged herself upright, brushed her sore knees and glanced skyward before going to retrieve her jacket.

As she turned to go, she stopped dead in front of the mirror when she caught sight of the man she’d seen last night.

She snapped her eyes shut, willing the image to disappear before hesitantly looking again. It didn’t work. His tall form stared straight back at her, a bemused expression etching his rugged features. Her heart rate stuttered then soared. She didn’t dare breathe. Or speak.

It seemed like an eternity passed as she stood there mesmerised by his arrogant, unblinking dark stare. He stood inside the frame, arms crossed, looking for all the world like a Victorian rake in tight black trousers and flowing white shirt. And like her, he didn’t move a muscle.

Then without warning the corner of his lips lifted as he said, ‘I bid you a good morning, Madam. I hope you are not too badly injured,’ before vanishing from view.

Seconds ticked by as her pulse made a deafening roar inside her ears.

Am I going mad? Surely I didn’t see what I just saw – hear what I just heard. Surely!

With a tiny shake of her head, she propelled herself cautiously forward, all the while reminding herself that there really was no such thing as ghosts.

It’s a hoax. A projection
.

‘It has to be a projection of some kind and if it’s a projection … then …’ certain to keep the mirror at arm’s length, she circled it slowly, studying the glass and frame in an attempt to find the source.

Tilting her head, she jammed her hands on her hips with a frown, then spun around and studied the wall opposite the mirror.

Nancy and Tom have certainly gone to a lot of effort to convince me
.

Using her reflection as a guide, she ran her hands over the patterned wallpaper, feeling for anything that could conceal a projector.
Nothing evident to the naked eye …

She examined each of the light fittings, the window enclosure, each of the four posts that held up the canopy over the bed and then the headboard.

‘Nothing.’

She turned back to the mirror, relieved when the only image she saw reflected there was her own.

At the bottom of the bed, she trailed her fingertips over the ornately carved wood to assure herself that there were no hidden devices. Years of polishing had left the wood silky and smooth.

After exhausting all other possibilities she could think of, she knew she’d have to take a peek behind the mirror itself. As she took a hesitant step forward, she heard footfalls on the staircase.
Richard!
She’d forgotten all about him.

‘Kelly? Is there a problem?’

Air whooshed from her lungs, and with a last look at the mirror, she grabbed her jacket and exited the room. She met him on the landing.

‘Sorry – I was so tired last night I didn’t unpack,’ she lied as she held her denim jacket up. ‘Found it eventually, though.’

‘Is that your room?’ he asked, lifting an eyebrow as if perplexed.

‘Yes, it is – why do you ask?’ She followed the line of his gaze to the closed door.

‘Hmm, makes sense, I suppose,’ he mused, before grinning at her and starting back down the stairs. ‘That’s where the ghost is reputed to be seen when he makes an appearance.’

He’s definitely in on the joke
. The alternative didn’t bear thinking about.

‘Reputed? I thought you lived in this house at one time.’

‘Only part-time, and I never slept in the master bedroom, despite all the reassurances that the ghost wouldn’t appear until some time this year.’

‘This year?’

Richard took her jacket and draped it about her shoulders. ‘Yes. Apparently, the ghost might be heard at any time, but is only seen every twenty years or so by the inhabitant of the master bedroom.’

‘Why twenty years?’

‘In all honesty, I’m not really sure. Legend has it that it’s something to do with astrology.’ He turned to her and gave her a sheepish grin. ‘But I must make a confession: I
haven’t done my ancestors proud. I’ve never been particularly interested in this place, or its history.’

‘Why not? – I would have thought if it was your heritage … that you’d want to know everything. Weren’t you intrigued?’

‘My mother did make valiant attempts to educate me when I was about thirteen. But at that time I was a whole lot more fascinated by the daughter of the new housekeeper who’d come home from boarding school. She was three years older than me and decided to devote herself to teaching me the facts of life. Needless to say, hormones being what they were …’ he left the sentence hanging and Kelly didn’t think it wise to pursue the subject.

‘Well, show me what you do know of the place and perhaps I can get to the bottom of the hoax anyway,’ she said with a wry grin.

‘I’m not sure how that can be achieved but we can certainly have a good stab at it. We’ll start with the eyrie, I think.’

‘The what?’ she asked.

‘Eyrie – that’s what I call it … the few times I came here as a boy, I used to go up on the roof and explore. I imagined myself an eagle, so I called it my eyrie,’ he said as he led the way up a narrow staircase at the back of the house. At a small landing on the third floor, he pushed open a wall panel by pressing against the lower corner. With a click, the wall opened up to reveal another, even narrower set of stairs that were steep and curved. Dust covered every surface, and the closed space smelled damp with mildew.

At the top he unfolded a wall-mounted ladder before climbing up the few steps to snap open a trapdoor. He came back down and motioned her ahead of him.

‘M’lady,’ he said as he sketched a mock bow, ‘if you’d care to climb the steps you’ll get a very different view of the locale.’

With a smile, she edged past him and climbed. Once outside, she realised that there was a walk, not dissimilar to the widow’s walks she’d seen on some coastal houses in the States. Wind immediately grabbed at her hair, whipping it around her face.

‘Wow,’ she said as she turned slowly and took in the landscape before her. Though the view from her room this morning was spectacular, the added height of this vantage gave her a bird’s eye view. ‘I can see why you called it an eyrie … we’re at the highest point in the whole area.’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘To a small boy this was like being at the top of the world.’ He rolled up his shirtsleeves and tilted his head back, breathing deeply.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever smelled air this fresh,’ she said.

‘Hmm, disgusting, isn’t it?’

Kelly laughed. ‘I don’t know about that, but I do think I’ll notice the difference when I get back to LA.’

As they soaked up the warmth of the sunny morning, she decided to take the opportunity to quiz him further about the ghost. Perhaps he’d say something that would give their game away.

‘Do you know if there are any records regarding appearances in recent years?’

He shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. I know that traditionally the master of Stanthorpe has always kept a journal. That is until I came along,’ – he flashed a look reminiscent of a naughty little boy – ‘I’m not one for traditions, I must confess. I glanced at one of my predecessor’s journals a few years ago, but it wasn’t what I’d call riveting reading, crop yields and tenancy agreements, that sort of thing. I didn’t bother beyond a few pages. I should think you’ll find the archives in the library somewhere, unless Tom has moved them already.’

‘I’ll ask him. Thanks.’

‘Anything for such a fair damsel,’ he said, sliding her an intimate look as he crossed to the other end of the rooftop walk.

‘You must have been a child when the ghost supposedly made his last appearance. Do you remember anything from that time?’

He leaned against the iron railing and looked down toward the river as if avoiding her gaze. ‘I expect I was away at school then. The family certainly wasn’t in residence at Stanthorpe. Mother preferred the city and Father spent most of his time in Europe on business. Don’t recall any mention of the ghost until much later.’

From his offhand tone she suspected he probably knew more than he was willing to say, but she chose not to press the issue until she’d gotten to know the man, and the manor, a little better.

Richard pointed out the various landmarks, explaining the purpose behind each of the buildings on the estate.

‘A buttery? You mean they have a whole building to make butter?’ she said as she studied the structure closest to the house itself.

He laughed. ‘No. The buttery was the place where liquid provisions were stored. Butter could also be kept there, I suppose, but it usually housed the estate’s liquor stores. It’s used as a garage nowadays.’

Just as she was about to look away she caught a flash of movement. A teenaged girl, at least it appeared to be a girl, darted out of the back door of the manor, crept along in the shadows and disappeared around the far side of the buttery. An instant later, her head bobbed back around the side of the building, did a quick scan of the courtyard before again ducking out of sight.

‘Who was that? Did you see her?’ Kelly pointed to the spot where the girl had just vanished.

Richard narrowed his gaze as if puzzled. ‘I didn’t see anyone. Maybe shadows from the passing clouds … or one of the dogs?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’m sure I saw a girl – a teenage girl. About fifteen, I guess. Trying to be stealthy by the looks of it.’

And now she thought about it, it made sense. Perhaps the girl had turned on the ghostly projection in her room earlier. An accomplice who could take suspicion away and provide Richard with a convenient alibi if needed.

After staring off in the direction of the buttery for a long moment, he turned back. ‘Well, I can’t see anyone now. It might have been one of the local girls taking a shortcut through the estate.’

‘I suppose,’ she mused, though her skepticism had been piqued.

‘So, shall we take a tour of the rest of the manor?’ he asked.

‘Sure,’ she replied, wondering what other
surprises
might be ahead.

Once they’d made it back to the landing, Richard showed her the servants’ quarters that sat either side of the stairwell.

‘Tiny,’ she commented on the windowless rooms nestled under the roof. ‘Almost like cells.’

‘Yes, they didn’t have a very good time of it in the early days. I expect it was extremely hot in summer and icy cold in winter. But most were grateful for the work.’

He gestured her down the staircase ahead. At the next landing he stopped and tapped on the wall. ‘It was a long time ago so I can’t remember exactly where, but along this wall is the entrance to one of the priest holes. Apparently, there are quite a few of those … and secret passages.’ He faced her with that mischievous grin.

‘You’re joking, right?’

He shook his head. ‘Not at all. The builders could probably tell you where they all are – they’d have floor plans. I will admit, as a boy, I was a little too frightened to go looking for them by myself, and as I said, we didn’t spend a lot of time here.’ He tapped again, and again. The third tap sounded hollow and he turned to her and raised his eyebrows in expectation.

A chill ran down Kelly’s spine.

‘I’d say,’ he began feeling around the edge of the wooden panel, ‘that we shall find a release …’

She heard a loud click and held her breath.

‘… here.’

He straightened triumphantly as the panel swung open.

Behind the panel sat an enclosed crawlspace that reminded Kelly of a coffin. Mortar dust covered the floor from the unfinished brickwork. She released her breath slowly.

‘That’s it? Just a small hole behind the wall?’

‘The idea was simply to provide a hiding place for short periods of time. Any bigger and the room would be noticed during a search. Needless to say, it would have been most uncomfortable.’

‘Where are the others?’ she asked, thinking a spot like this would be the ideal place to hide AV equipment.