by L C Kincaide
Emma smiled in gratitude. She wished she could tell him she saw George standing at his brother’s side at the wedding, but she had no way of knowing his beliefs on such matters and let it pass.
After lunch, Grace showed her to the walled-in back patio, a lovely square laid with flagstones and bordered with lush bushes and blooming plants. A fountain burbled in a corner, and she sat in one of the chairs in the shade. To her surprise, Grace took a seat as well.
“What happened last fall,” Grace started haltingly, “is that really over? I heard it was the spirit of your friend.”
Oh, that. “No, it wasn’t Ivy, and yes, it’s over. That one is gone for good.”
Grace gave her a wary look. “Whoever that was gave me a smart shove off a runway, and Robert…”
“I know. I’m sorry about that. It’s why I went back. It all started with Mason and a spurned woman who never accepted his rejection.”
“Well! Wasn’t he a popular bloke!”
You can’t imagine. “Anyway, she’s gone.”
“Exorcized?”
“Not exactly.” Emma almost laughed out loud at that.
Grace leaned toward her wide-eyed. “Do you know who it was?”
Emma leaned forward too and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Victoria Ruskin.”
“Ruskin, you say? Blimey!”
“You’ll recognize her in the pictures of the croquet tournaments. She’s the blonde with all her hair piled up on her head giving Mason the eye.”
“I never would have guessed.”
“She killed Amelia too. Used Margaret in her wheelchair to shove into her from behind.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I saw it when I was there.” She just stopped short of admitting she could see ghosts since then.
“You saw it?”
“They showed me in visions.”
Grace shuddered.
“Anyway, it’s over now. You have nothing to worry about on that front.” Emma reassured her.
“That’s a relief!” She fell back against the backrest.
“You can say that again.”
Grace’s eyes swept over her. “Is that why your hair…”
“Yeah. It was a rough couple of days. I hope I won’t wake up with more white hair tomorrow.”
“Oh. Sorry. Here I am asking about spooks and you dealing with your own loss.”
“It’s okay. I don’t mind talking about it.”
“I can tell you one thing. Nobody will be seeing me in an Everdon Manor, not there nor here.”
“I didn’t think so.” Emma thought if she should mention being there, but so what? She was leaving anyway. “I saw the manor.”
“You mean the one here?” She was incredulous. “Why?”
“Curiosity, mostly. Adam Kinsley invited me to see it.”
“So he persuaded you into going, did he?” She smirked.
“I suppose he did.” She didn’t want to elaborate on her real reasons.
“It doesn’t surprise me in the least! Heaven! He wouldn’t stop asking about you!”
“Really?”
“Hmmm. His date was none too pleased.”
“Oh. I thought he just wanted me to see how it compares. It’s gorgeous, by the way. It made me sad seeing how ours could have been. I never thought anyone would turn it into a hotel and host special events.”
“Can you imagine that happening in your manor? Blimey! I can’t see that going too well!”
“Um… all things considered, neither do I. Unless we called it The Everdon House of Horrors. That might sell at Halloween.”
“Except the horrors were real.”
“So, what do you know about him?”
Grace squinted. “Let’s see. He’s bloody gorgeous, single, seems to know what he’s doing, popular with the ladies, though not one has been able to hold his attention for long.”
“Why’s that? Too busy?”
“Maybe. Can’t say for sure. He was married before and since his divorce, he’s been keeping a low profile as far as dating goes. But he seemed rather keen on you.”
“I’m flattered, but dating him is not exactly feasible.”
“Isn’t it the way?” She grinned ruefully. “Genio decided to relocate to Milan and I don’t fancy the whole relationship playing out in text messages and computer calls. I’ll probably move on soon. Just not worth the bother.”
Emma envied Grace her pragmatic attitude — none of the drawn out suffering for her. She thought about John and her similar situation with him. He had never said a word about his plans with or without her. Maybe by the time she settled everything else that was going on, there would be little point in talking at all.
“Well,” Grace said rising from the chair. “I’ll leave you to it. Get some rest. We can pick up later.”
They had dinner together, reminiscing about their collective past and sharing those moments comforted her. Sir Theo retired early, and she did too, taking a bath and another sleeping pill for insurance. She had no dreams and her mother hadn’t shown up to haunt her. At least not yet.
FRIDAY
~*~
Adam strode into his office and closed the door behind him. He had returned later than he had expected and by then it was too late to call Emma, so he went straight to bed. She sounded exhausted when he had spoken to her for those few seconds he had to spare. And there he was offering help. What exactly did he think he could do for her not having time for a brief phone call?
The morning sun slanted through the leaded glass windows onto a desk stacked with file folders and unopened mail. While his computer booted, he flipped through the envelopes to see if anything urgent awaited his attention. An Express Post envelope caught his eye, and he picked it up when a knock came at the door.
“You must have come in late.” Miss Walsh nodded toward the collection of correspondence.
“Seems not a moment too soon. What is it, Fiona?”
“I hate to add to your burden, but we need to discuss the bookings for July. I noticed a possible conflict of dates.”
He put the envelope down and motioned to Fiona to take a chair opposite the desk. He settled himself for another round of smoothing out problems. Since he set down his hard hat and blueprints, it seems his life was gradually becoming a series of administrative issues to resolve.
“I have good news, Emma.” Sir Theo said when he found her in the reception room. “I’ve had a call from my friend at the embassy. The mortuary has released your mother’s body and she will be on her way to the airport later this afternoon.”
“So soon?” She was surprised. “But the flight isn’t for a few hours yet.”
“They prefer not to wait until the last minute with these things. It’s nothing to concern yourself with, merely procedure.”
“I suppose. And thank you again. I can’t imagine what I would have done without you.”
“You are very welcome, my dear. It was my pleasure to be of assistance.” He said, his kind eyes crinkling at the corners.
Emma smiled at the older gentleman, the real Lord of the family and a rather sweet, unpretentious man. For as long as she’d known him he had always made the best of any situation.
“I’m glad we were able to see each other over the years, though not about the circumstances. I won’t miss those.”
“I should say not.” He agreed.
“Though I do miss your muttonchops.” She smiled.
“Do you?” He gave a hearty laugh and rubbed his smooth cheek.
“What did I miss?” Grace entered the room.
One more crisis averted, Adam returned to his office. Fiona had talked him into a quick tea which he could have done without, but she had a point about a
change in scenery clearing the mind. While she filled him in him on upcoming events, particularly the vintage cars on display in Hertford, he glanced around the hothouse. Did it seem warmer in there or was it his imagination? His gaze found the fountain and moved up to the overhead beam. If Emma hadn’t mentioned it, he never would have known about his great-great-grandmother’s suicide. It had never occurred to him to question her about her startling revelations. The information she had provided was too specific for it to have been a coincidence, nor did it surprise him that his family history was recorded somewhat differently. The stigma of a suicide combined with an illegitimate birth would have been too much to bear, even in these modern times. His thoughts turned to Emma. He’d call her as soon as he was back in the office.
“Adam, where have you gone to?”
“Huh?” Adam met her eyes. “Sorry. Must be all the work waiting on my desk.”
“Hmmm.”
“Do you find it warmer in here than normal?”
She glanced around. “I suppose. I’m not wearing my jacket, so it must be. Have they finally fixed whatever was wrong in here?”
He grinned mysteriously. “It appears so.”
The cellphone was in his hand and dialling Emma’s number before the door closed. His foot tapped impatiently as the call went straight to voicemail. He muttered as the automated message relayed the obvious, and then left an awkward voicemail about hoping she’s all right, which he already knew she was not, and trying again later. Bloody hell! He had wanted to at least speak to her one more time, preferably face-to-face, but the phone would have sufficed. The fates were conspiring against him, it seemed.
After checking his emails, he attacked the stack of papers on his desk. Already nearing the dinner hour, he quickly sorted through and tore open the Express Post envelope. His brow furrowed at the familiar name on the letterhead and wondered what he wanted now. He read the cover letter and sat up straighter in disbelief. He went over it again to make sure he had understood it correctly, then took more time leafing through the thicker document.
“How is this possible?” He muttered to himself. Again, he checked the names and dates, examined the original documents included with the copies. There could be no doubt of their authenticity. And, yes, that was his name printed there as well. But why? What had prompted this extraordinary decision? He saw her signature in several places, including the Transfer of Property Deed; Emma Stuart. It was dated the day before yesterday.
The chair creaked in protest as he fell against the backrest. Was that the reason for her call? Had she tried to tell him and he had been too busy to listen? Sod it! Sometimes he was truly daft! He checked the time as he tried calling her again with the same results. And she was flying home tonight! His fingers raced across the keyboard searching for flights to Boston and booked a train ticket directly to Heathrow. If he left now, he just might make it in time.
Hadfield opened the door of the Bentley, and she stepped out into an eerie twilight that had settled over the city. It seemed like only yesterday she and mum had arrived in London eager to attend the wedding. It had never occurred to her that in a week she would be leaving on her own and her mother in a coffin in the plane’s cargo hold. She’d had enough time to get used to the new reality, yet it still felt surreal as if it was all happening to someone else and she the observer.
An airplane roared overhead as Hadfield took out their collective luggage and arranged them on a large luggage cart and followed them inside.
“Thank you, again.” Emma took Sir Theo in an embrace. “I’ll let you know the details as soon as I have them.”
“Of course, my dear. Please take care and give our best to Mathew as well.”
“I will.”
She choked up again watching his retreating back and when he disappeared, she pushed the cart to the counter. Tagged and checked, their luggage moved along on the conveyor belt and the ticket agent smiled brightly and directed her to the first class lounge. A glance at her cell phone revealed the battery was dead. Perfect! When was the last time she charged it or checked it for that matter? She couldn’t remember. If Adam had called her again, and he most likely did, she would listen to his message at home — her charge cord was in the suitcase. Her thought processes were somewhat impaired these past few days.
By now, he had received his documents and was flabbergasted — or what was the local term — gobsmacked. So much for trying to soften the impact of the news. Maybe she should have done it differently, like mention something to him before dropping the bombshell. Even good news could floor someone, especially when it was this big and came out of nowhere. She hadn’t intended to blindside him.
The lawyers had their work cut out with her in teaching her the dos and don’ts.
A flurry of activity surrounded her, the terminal busy even at this hour. Passengers, their accompanying friends and families milled about and a hundred fragments of conversation jumbled together. It was just past eight o’clock, according to the monitors, so she had two hours yet before boarding. What was there to do? Stroll around? Visit the shops? She had packed Adam’s book, so there was nothing to read. Or she could wait it out and wash down a sleeping pill with some wine once settled in the plane which didn’t sound like a bad idea at all.
She dropped the phone in her purse and ambled toward the concourse of shops.
Adam rushed into the terminal and stopped. How was he going to find her in this horde of travellers? Racing down here was an impulse, but no amount of planning would have proven useful in a situation that relied on timing alone. His eyes narrowed as he moved deeper into the crowd and searched. She was here somewhere, had to be. Several women slowed as they passed by him. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, knowing he was running out of time. In less than an hour, she’d be off, and he hoped she hadn’t gone to wait in one of the lounges to which only passengers had access. If he didn’t spot her, he could always have her paged, but that was a last resort, which he was not above taking. He had to see her — it was that simple. He turned in a circle and from the corner of his eye he detected a flash of bright pink. There she was, walking away, pulling her carry-on. His heart leapt, and he sprinted toward the color. He was not about to let her go. Not that easily.
“Emma!”
Emma stopped in her tracks, not sure if she had heard correctly. Upon hearing her name again, she turned and her eyes widened at Adam hurrying toward her.
“Adam!”
He stopped when he got closer, his eyes intent on hers. She looked tired and sad and so utterly alone. Her voice mobilized him and in two strides he was there his arms wrapped around her. “Thank God I found you!”
Emma pressed against him, luxuriating in his warmth, taken aback by how happy she was to see him.
“I tried calling…” He murmured into her hair.
“The battery died. I forgot to charge it.” She replied into his jacket.
They stood in the middle of the concourse, locked in a hug as travellers milled around them. Neither was ready to separate. Finally, he released her and held her at arm’s length.
He fought an internal battle on what to ask first. His mind had been working on this problem since he had read the documents and he thought he had it all figured out. Now that she was before him, looking paler than before in her bright pink leather, he was rendered speechless. His hands moved down her arms and took her hand in his.
“I don’t understand…” He stammered, wincing at the best he could come up with. Normally, finding the right words was not a problem.
“Sorry. I hoped to talk to you before you got the package.”
“I have to admit to being gobsmacked by it, to say the least. I can’t begin to thank you enough… but why?”
Emma smiled. “Two reasons. My mother wanted to… how can I put it… divest herself of the property. I found out about it Tue
sday morning. That is why I left in such a hurry. After she… anyway, I decided it should go to the right person, and that is you, Adam. Mason had intended it.”
“Even so…” To his exasperation, he was still struggling for words.
“Adam, it is yours and always has been. I simply enacted our ancestor’s wishes and I am glad I did. Very glad.”
“Emma, please don’t attribute my inability to form a coherent sentence to anything other than to being overwhelmed. You have rather taken me by surprise. This is not something I ever dreamed of happening. I’m indebted to you and happily so.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. He led her to a nearby bench.
“You said there were two reasons. What is the second?”
“I promised Clara I would look after her child.”
“Did you now?” He grinned.
“So, are your hothouse issues resolved?”
“As a matter of fact, they are. I won’t begin to understand how it works between you and the spirits.”
“That’s just as well.” She laughed. “Because I haven’t figured it out either.”
His face became serious. “I wish you didn’t have to go. We should have more time.”
“I know.” She agreed. It didn’t seem fair. Her luck with men was beyond terrible. Every one she cared for and wanted to be with was far away or soon would be, locked in another time zone. She may as well be on the moon. She met his smokey eyes and couldn’t help but wonder when or if she would gaze into them again. Despite her unresolved feelings for John, Adam was still someone she wanted to know better. Weren’t they cousins, after all, even if very distant ones? Her family members comprised a small number.
“We can stay in touch.” She offered. “We are cousins.”
He forced a grin. Stay in touch. What he wanted was to pick her up and carry her out of the terminal and back to the manor for an indeterminate length of stay and not as a family relation. “We can, though I’d like more than that.”
