by L C Kincaide
“Are you afraid I will judge you?” His eyes were intent on hers. “Emma, look at me. I would never do such a thing. Whatever its condition, it is no reflection on you.”
“Thanks. Its only purpose seems to have been to keep us trapped in carrying out certain stipulations.”
“I know you mentioned a bit about the history… a violent death and a curse on the family.”
“It sounds crazy, doesn’t it? I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t grown up in it.”
“You did say it was over.”
“That part of it, anyway.”
“Then what more could he possibly want? Surely, he’s happy now wherever they are.”
“I hope so.”
“We don’t have to do this. It’s only my curiosity, professional and otherwise. I thought if I could see it for myself I’d be able to determine whether it is salvageable, but I’ll be happy just being in your company.”
Emma sighed. What was the big deal? He was right — the manor’s condition was not hers nor any of their fault, and it might be interesting to see if it’s past redemption. At least that way, she could have it demolished without doubt and raise the property value.
“All right. If you really want to see it, we’ll go. Just keep your expectations in check.”
His face brightened. “It will be fine. I know it.”
They left the restaurant and strolled up the sidewalk, hand in hand in the warm evening.
“I had a wonderful day with you, Miss Emma.” He said. “Being with you is by far the best part of the trip.”
“Thanks. Now you know a little about Boston.”
“I do, and more importantly, about you.”
Emma was glad for the darkness. She had never realized her predisposition to blushing until she met him.
“When did you want to head out?”
“Can we go a bit later? I still have to attend to some business before I’m done with all that.”
“Sure.”
“Is one all right?”
“It’s doable. I wouldn’t risk it in the fall when the sun sets much earlier.”
“Oh, yes. You did say it’s a distance away.”
“About three hours, but I’ve made the trip in less.” The last one, half expecting her tires to blow out or for the car to fly into the ditch. She still couldn’t understand why dear old uncle Mason had let her get away unscathed after that tirade. Maybe he was used to it and she amused him. It didn’t matter. After tomorrow, the next visit may include a wrecking ball.
“I’m looking forward to seeing it, warts and all.”
She laughed. “I can promise you it won’t be boring. It’s not something you’ll see every day.”
“As long as you are fine with it.”
Emma shrugged. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
“Well, here we are.” They stopped under the awning of the hotel.
“Thank you for today. I will reminisce on our adventure before I go to sleep.”
“Don’t thank me yet. You just may have nightmares tomorrow night.”
“I’ll consider myself warned.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight, Miss Emma.”
“Goodnight, Adam.”
She hurried to a waiting taxi before she lost her nerve and spent the next hours saying her goodbyes. “See you tomorrow!” She waved from the back seat.
“I’ll be counting the hours!” He called back grinning.
He waited until the cab turned the corner before going inside.
Emma skipped across her living room and fell onto the couch. Did today really happen? She was not dreaming? Did she have wine in the fridge? Despite the miles of walking, rather than collapsing in bed, she was restless. She padded to the bathroom and turned the taps. A hot bath would help calm her. Tomorrow promised to be a big day where she got to show off the family jewel, the Everdon pride and joy, the pile of once pink, but now drab granite, bloodstained marble and a forest’s worth of dusty paneling. What on earth would he make of it? What would mumchance — yes, that would certainly apply — him more? The crumbling northwest wing or the devastated ballroom? The parlor campsite would surely impress never mind his first impression of the debris-strewn central hall. No, not embarrassing at all.
The tub filled, and she added lavender-scented salts. Maybe uncle Mason would not allow entry, his pride and joy looking as it did. She hadn’t considered that probability. Very little existed outside of the realm of possibilities where Everdon Manor was concerned. If nothing else, Adam would leave with a heightened appreciation of what he had. Nobody wanted to be the lord nor lady of the manor on this side of the ocean.
Emma peeled off her dress and eased herself into the hot water. She closed her eyes and Adam appeared, his face creased in a smile and eyes crinkling at the corners. No man should be that good looking and smart and fun and considerate. Rachel was right about the accent being too sexy. Before long she would be drinking tea as strange as that seemed. They hadn’t even had any wine, not that wine went with Hunan chicken and veggie chow mein.
She was letting him under her skin, but he’d be staying only one more day, so where was the harm in that? He too was well aware of the limitations of their friendship and she enjoyed being friends with him. What woman wouldn’t want a handsome, sexy male friend? Yeah, but would a friendship be enough? It would have to be for the sake of her sanity.
Remember what happened with John.
Emma lowered herself and the water closed over her head.
CHAPTER 9
~*~
Thank goodness for his morning appointment because her clothes were a mess. Her head full of their adventures, she had neglected to hang them back in the closet from the pile on the bed before her bath and then too tired to do it; she transferred it all in a heap to the couch. Pawing through it with one hand, the other clutching her coffee cup, she pulled out a pair of jeans. In the drawer she found a selection of T-shirts and tops, and the denim jacket was still good. There was no need to dress too nicely considering their destination, but she took care with her hair and added silver hooped earrings. A little bling never hurt.
She would have called Rachel, but then she’d have to tell her about Adam being here and what they planned on doing and where they were heading. In tomorrow’s conversation, she’d fill in the missing pieces, not that she minded sharing her thoughts and feelings with her friend, but she needed to keep him to herself for now. By Monday, he would be a million, or three thousand miles away with no telling when they’d see each other again. She didn’t want to share her despair anymore and by keeping it to herself, whatever disappointment came her way, was hers alone — but not yet. With an hour to go, she hung her clothes in the closet and went downstairs.
Still a few minutes early, she parked in front and stepped out to wait in the sun. They had been lucky with the weather and the manor wouldn’t look quite as bleak as it would under clouds. Leaning against the car, her foot tapped against the concrete almost in rhythm with her heartbeat. God, you’re pathetic! He wasn’t even downstairs yet! Just then, the door swung open and there he was wearing jeans and a jean jacket over a too well-fitting polo shirt the color of which matched his eyes. Hmmm…
“Hullo, Miss Emma.”
“Hello, Mr. Kinsley. I see you’re sensibly dressed for the occasion.”
“I didn’t pack my steel-toed boots nor hard hat.”
“It’s okay. You won’t have to tread through rough terrain and we’ll keep away from the danger zone.”
She wasn’t sure how to greet him. “Let’s get going.” She dashed around the car and got in.
“Any second thoughts?”
“Not yet. I may ask you the same question later.” She said.
On the way out of town, Emma point
ed out some landmarks and before long, they were on the highway, the traffic becoming lighter the farther she drove.
“How many years have you made this trip?”
“Most of my life, with mum or Matthew when I was younger, then the past few times on my own.”
“And this was for the weekend?”
“Yes, our famous Everdon Weekends, all of us women dressed in Edwardian gowns, the men in high-stand collars, and eating English food and playing croquet.”
“Sounds charming.”
“It does at first then it seems like you’ll be doing it for the rest of your life. Believe me, the appeal wears off after a while.”
“And it was your family and the Langstones?”
“Yes. Us, Robert and Grace and Sir Theo. My aunt, Lady Sarah who died years ago, and George before his accident. And the Ruskins.”
“Are the Ruskins related?”
“No. Just implicated. You must have met them. Frances Ruskin has red hair.”
“She sounds familiar. Is it only the two of them?”
“They have a daughter, Carrie who’s at Juilliard and couldn’t get away to the wedding, and a son. He couldn’t make it either.”
Adam glanced at her. Her tone of voice had been a bit harsh just then.
“Anyway, that fun tradition is over and we’ve all gone our separate ways.”
“And all that happened because Mason rejected another woman’s advances.”
“Basically, yes. She — Victoria Ruskin, wouldn’t take no for an answer and killed Amelia thinking once she had the competition out of the way, she’d have a good shot at him. Her scheme didn’t exactly pan out as she hoped. Before he turned her down for the last time, he managed to curse us all into re-enacting the weekend as it should have happened in the first place.”
Emma shuddered at the many years worth of memories.
“Just what did he hope to accomplish?”
“He was waiting for Amelia’s return. He believed by continuing the tradition, a woman who was Amelia returned would come home and stay with him and they’d live, or something, happily ever after.”
“I don’t understand. How would that transpire?”
“Do you believe in reincarnation?”
“Honestly, I don’t know.”
“He did, and by default we did too. We were tasked with bringing a suitable woman, a local one of course, to the party and until two years ago, everyone including the guest went home safe and sound.”
“Except two years ago.”
“She stayed. Amelia had returned.”
“Blimey!”
“Blimey is right. Did you want me to turn around?”
“No. I find it fascinating. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“Kind of makes you feel good about being related to Mason, doesn’t it?”
He contemplated the implications for a few miles.
“How were you able to live there, all things considered.”
Emma sighed. “Oh, that is a long story. For years my mum told me stories about illusions and how he told her what he wanted. I never believed her, it all sounded so crazy. She was right. He somehow held the place together as it had been — maintaining the illusion, mum called it. All that so we could continue playing the charade.”
“That doesn’t seem possible.”
“No, it shouldn’t be.”
“And for the past two years there was no need for it.”
“Right. And you are going to see what’s left. What was really there the whole time, just covered up.” She glanced at him. “I know how crazy it sounds.”
“It’s extraordinary.”
“I doubt many people have experienced this kind of craziness and those who have won’t discuss it, not that I blame them.”
“When were you there last?”
Emma recalled vividly her vigil on the stoop waiting for John who never showed despite his promises. She was a little upset after that. And then she returned home to Adam’s roses and sweet note in her room. She turned and smiled at him. “A while back.”
“And nothing is going to come after you?”
“I don’t think so.”
“They’ll have to get past me first.”
“I doubt anyone would dare, you being Mason’s direct heir.”
“Blimey, you’re right. It’s all rather new still.”
“Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.”
“After what you’ve said, perhaps it’s better that I don’t.”
Emma laughed out loud, and he joined her.
An hour later, they approached the village.
“We can stop for a little while in Fairmont and have a drink.”
“There’s a village?”
“It’s not exactly like Everdon Village, but it has its own charm.”
Emma slowed and drove up the winding main road and parked around a corner. They climbed out and stretched then she led him up the sidewalk to a teahouse she had visited once or twice over the years. For the most part, none of them stopped in Fairmont, everyone eager to get to the manor and even more intent on leaving.
“For tourists, this is the destination. There isn’t much after.”
They found a table near the window and ordered tea and pastry.
“My influence must be rubbing off on you.” He grinned. “You just ordered an English tea.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
The server who was also the proprietor returned and set out the cups and saucers and a plate of pastries, and the teapot.
“Best to let this steep for a few minutes yet. Would you like cream or lemon?”
“Lemon please.” Adam replied.
“Oh my! Aren’t you far from home?” She beamed. “Will you be staying in the village or just passing through?” She asked interested in him.
“I was actually wondering where Everdon Manor is.”
Her face clouded over. “Oh, you don’t want to go there, no one does, not even the boys on a dare.”
“Really? Why is that?”
Her eyes darted from Emma and back to him mulling over how much she should say. “Well, first off, there’s nothing to see. It’s always in a fog and bad things happen. Even the family that owns it stays away.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Two years ago, a woman disappeared. She went inside and never came out. There was a police investigation, but they never recovered her body.”
“Maybe she was never there.” Adam offered.
“Oh, she was all right. They found her cell phone in the driveway, all broken.”
“Goodness! Well, thanks for the warning.”
“No trouble at all. I’ll be back with your lemon.” She said, her smile returned.
Emma gave him a knowing look.
“You weren’t kidding.”
Emma shook her head. “I wasn’t.”
Shortly, they were in the car and Emma slowed as they approached the bridge, half expecting to find the house shrouded in the predicted mist despite the sun shining.
“We also have our own bridge.” She said driving across.
Adam seemed to be mesmerized viewing for the first time the twin of the manor he so loved. She drove the rest of the curved drive in silence letting him form his own impressions. To her, it looked the same and this time she’d be seeing a lot more of it following him. She stopped in front of the door.
He was out of the car and studying the worn facade and she joined him.
“Not exactly inviting, is it?”
“The chains don’t suggest a welcome, no.” He glanced around.
There was no good place to start; fire had damaged the north end of the west wings, the east boasted the ruined hothouse, and the back was
not impressive either.
“Seeing as you’re familiar with the layout go on ahead and I’ll follow.” She traipsed after him through the flourishing weeds that had grown considerably since her last visit.
He stopped when her reached the crumbling and charred walls. Somehow, the massive beams had survived for decades and still poked through the brambles.
“Hmmm.” He said stepping back, tilting his head to the right then left. He stepped forward careful of the loose stones hidden in the grass. Emma stayed close behind. His brow was furrowed in concentration rather than any sense of nostalgia and for that she was glad. He had yet to see the interior which was not a pretty sight either.
She followed him past the ballroom’s wall of windows, all of them boarded up against intruders, should anyone brave enough dare to get this close. He was examining the walls, stepping closer to scratch at the mortar. Then he came around the other side.
“Doesn’t exactly look familiar, does it?”
“Not quite. Still, it is an incredible replica. In some ways, the English manor was also in a state of decay, but not to this extent.”
She refrained from saying it surprised her it still stood. “There’s what’s left of the hothouse.”
“I see. That, unfortunately, can’t be salvaged.”
“I didn’t think so.”
He turned to her and took her hand.
“You don’t find this too depressing, do you?” Emma asked.
“No. You prepared me quite well.”
“So, what do you think?”
“The burned wing poses some challenges if it were to be rebuilt as it was originally, but not impossible.”
“You are an optimist.”
He laughed. “I didn’t say it would be easy.”
“Probably expensive too.”
“These things generally are.”
They had come full circle and Emma produced her key. She thought herself prepared for this, but now that the moment had arrived, she hesitated. Anything could lay beyond that door and she had no control over it.
