The Everdon Series- the Complete Set

by L C Kincaide

  ”Ready?” She asked.

  “Whenever you are.”

  She mounted the steps between the two old pillars and inserted the key into the padlock. As with the other times, it turned easily, and that clenched her stomach. It’s as if the manor knew she was back.

  The heavy oak door creaked open, and she stepped inside the central hall awash in sunlight, the drab carpet brightened in the sunny patch. She promised herself to one day to burn it. Eager to see, Adam was walking ahead.

  “No! Not there!” She grabbed at his sleeve and pulled him away from the rectangle of light on the rug. He turned to her surprised and was about to say something when he noticed she’d gone pale.

  “Emma, what is it?” His hands were on her shoulders. She was shaking.

  “Don’t walk there, okay? It isn’t safe.”

  “You’re upset. Let’s leave. I’ve seen enough.”

  “I’m okay, really. Sometimes I get a little spooked that’s all.” She gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile.

  He studied her face, the lock of white hair at her forehead a reminder of a terrifying ordeal. He recalled her saying she had been here alone and under attack by an entity. The residue of it still remained within these walls.

  “If you’re sure. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, certainly not on my behalf. You need only to say the word and we’ll leave.”

  “I’m good. I have you to protect me, right? Just avoid going under the skylight, okay?”

  “I promise.”

  “Good. So, should we go room by room?”

  “Why don’t you lead the way?”

  With her hand in his, she took him by the grandfather clock that stood silent in the alcove its hands frozen at six minutes past eleven.

  “All the clocks stopped at the exact time of Amelia’s death and only started the night of her return.”

  “Blimey.”

  “Blimey is right. They might start again, so don’t let that freak you out.”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  He peeked into the dining room of a similar color scheme. Emma noticed all the chairs were accounted for, but said nothing. Moving on, she paused at the closed door.

  “This was the lady’s salon and my favorite room when I was little.” She said and he waited for her to open the door. She could still hear the glass shattering and objects crashing into it from the last time, but she opened it anyway so he could have a look and stepped aside.

  “It’s lovely. These items should be in storage. It would be a shame to see them all ruined.”

  What was he talking about? Victoria had definitely made a mess in there, and she poked her head inside a salon as untouched as when she had first entered it. Something was going on for sure though she could not begin to explain it.

  Adam crossed the room to the sideboard with the framed pictures and picked up one after another.

  “Is this the portrait of Margaret you mentioned?”

  Loath to go further inside, she followed him. “That’s the one.”

  He set it down carefully. “Your resemblance to her is uncanny.”

  He lifted a picture of Reese Everdon, their great-great-great-great-grandfather for closer inspection. “I’m astonished how they were able to survive in this condition.” He muttered to himself.

  Emma wasn’t sure if they had, or if they only appeared that way.

  “The ballroom is next?”

  “Brace yourself. It looks like a war zone.” Or so she believed based on what had transpired there.

  He pushed the door open to a darkened space. The boards over the windows allowed only slivers of light to press inside and if the chandelier was suspended from the ceiling, Emma would turn and leave. Close behind, she peered into the gloom noticing the random glint of broken chains and scattered crystals. She breathed a sigh of relief.

  “How terrifying it must have been to witness the fall. It’s a miracle no one was hurt.”

  “It was. A storm came up suddenly and blew all the windows open. The draft swung the chandelier until it loosened and crashed.”

  “That is a terrible shame. Was it the same as the other one?”

  “Exactly. Shall we go to your office next?”

  “Now this, I have to see.”

  She opened the door with a flourish to a room he knew very well and he laughed. “I’ll be gobsmacked if it isn’t the same! It’s like being in a dream! Even the furniture. Quite uncanny!”

  “I thought you’d get a kick out of it.”

  She waited while he poked around in a space that was strangely familiar to him despite never having been here before.

  “I understand how you must have felt when I brought you to the manor.”

  “Similar, but in reverse. You can imagine it was like traveling into the past.” This would qualify as time travel into a nightmare. She hoped there would be no more weirdness.

  The parlor was next with the shattered wineglass still in the fireplace ashes and its twin on the cooler. He didn’t ask and for that she was grateful. The drawing room was nearly identical to his, the one room to have escaped Victoria Ruskin’s wrath. Now only the upstairs remained.

  “Are you up for this?” He asked squeezing her hand.

  How could she not be seeing the excitement of discovery lighting his face?

  “Sure. Lead the way.”

  “This is where we said our goodnights.” He recalled her visit and brushed her cheek with a finger.

  “I remember. Do you want to see my room? It’s not as nice as the one in your house.” In what condition had she left it? They would soon find out.

  They walked the length of the corridor and stopped at the door. No numbers indicated the rooms nor were they locked. She opened it.

  “Nearly identical.” He said running a hand along a post of the bed. He peered out the grimy window at an unfamiliar landscape. “I can imagine it must have been disconcerting to find yourself faced with a different view.”

  “Just a bit.”

  The room was made up, but she could have done it herself. Maybe. She didn’t recall taking the time in the midst of the frenzy.

  They returned to the open gallery. Would he want to see the portraits provided they were even there? That was one hallway she’d rather not enter, but they were here and she was not alone. He had promised to protect her, but he really had no idea from what. At this point, she herself could not be certain of what waited there. She had not seen anyone yet. They approached the short corridor and stopped. The sconces were lit and flickering in the portrait gallery. He wrinkled his brow.

  “Sometimes they do that.” She said trying to sound nonchalant. The last time they were not.

  He glanced at her assessing if she was all right.

  “Do you want to see the portraits?”

  “Not if you don’t want to.”

  “Are you still feeling protective?”

  He wrapped his arm around her.

  “Let’s have a look. I’ll make the introductions.”

  It took all of her nerve to enter the long hallway with the paintings, and the deeper they progressed, the higher its toll.

  “This is where the corridor is sealed due to the fire?”

  “Yes. I’ve never seen it any other way.” A cold dread reached for her, but instead she turned to the pictures and started with Reese and Margaret.

  “See? That is how I will look when I’m old.” Emma studied the stern, scowling features above the frilled collar. Maybe it was too tight, and the old lady was uncomfortable which seemed a good enough reason for making that face. She recalled what Adam had told her about her days as a huntress and horse rider. Her hands didn’t hold a riding crop, but rested one over the other, the artist capturing both her sour e
xpression and the glint of her jewels. Margaret enjoyed her rings; rubies and a magnificent sapphire. She had good taste. Down the line they went from Everdon to Langstone and they arrived at the lord of the manor himself and his lady.

  “I see what you mean. They were a handsome pair.”

  “It was odd seeing him alone like that in the parlor.”

  Emma gasped realizing what was different. Amelia’s portrait should have been downstairs, leaning against a pillar, and yet, here it was in its original spot. If she didn’t know any better, she would believe someone had come in here to clean up, to put away the dining room chairs and return the painting to its place. But the dining room chairs had been shattered against the walls and the portrait hurled at her back as she fled. Someone or something was here tidying up and lighting the lamps for an unknown purpose. She suddenly had an urge to run, to get out and drive away.

  “We should go. It’s getting late.” She said as matter-of-factly as she could. In the dim corridor lit only with gas sconces, there was no telling what was happening outside. Thunder rolled over the house in reply.

  “All right. I’ve seen enough.” He followed her to the open gallery, and a perceptibly darkened central hall.

  Gone was the rectangle of sunlight. Another peal of thunder resonated throughout and rain drummed against the skylight glass. Emma ran down the stairs and straight for the door, Adam right behind her. By the time he closed the manor door, she was in the car and jamming the key into the ignition. He was beside her as she finally got the key in and turned it, but nothing happened. Damn! Not this again! Rain washed over the car reducing visibility. Come on! She tried once more.

  The memory of the night of her and Ivy’s great escape came to mind. She had been drunk and in a panic took mum’s SUV with Ivy in the passenger seat, both soaked to the skin, she determined against all odds to get away before the house claimed her friend. At least the car started that night. Now it was dead. She stomped on the gas pedal and twisted the key hard enough to bend it. A gentle hand covered hers.

  “It’s no use, Emma. The engine won’t start.”

  “It has to!” She wouldn’t accept it. Couldn’t. He was trying to stop them from leaving. Why? Did he want Adam? She looked at him stricken. She never should have brought him.

  “Emma!” His hands were firmly on her shoulders, his voice urgent over the crashing thunder and pelting rain. We need to go back inside.

  “No!” She shouted. Was she crying or was her wet hair dripping in her face?

  Lightning sliced through the downpour blinding them both. The next moment, he was out of the car and extricating Emma and against her protests, he carried her to the house and kicked the door shut behind them. A crackle of light briefly illuminated the central hall and another peal of thunder roared overhead. She was trapped in a nightmare — had to be.

  He set her down and wiped the moisture from her face. She was pale and her eyes were enormous. Whatever happened to her that time was still fresh in her mind.

  “You’re shivering. I’ll build a fire.” He said heading for the parlor.

  “No! Not in there!” She’d sooner freeze to death than spend another minute in that room. But where? What was safe in this house?

  “Upstairs!” She grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs where she turned right and right again. She opened a door, and he followed her into a bedroom. The grate was stocked with firewood ready to start, which he found convenient and disconcerting, with more wood stacked nearby. Lightning flashed for a moment illuminating a fourposter with bed curtains. A door led to a bathroom, and he returned with towels and draped one over Emma’s shoulders. He opened the damper then bent to the hearth and taking a match, he lit the kindling. Rain pinged against the metal chimney cap high above.

  “You’re freezing. You need to get out of these clothes before you catch your death.” He hoped to find some item of clothing in the armoire she could wear, but found nothing. “I’m sorry, there isn’t anything dry for you to wear.”

  “It’s okay.” She said in a tone of resignation and went to the bathroom. She came out a minute later with one towel wrapped around her and rubbing her hair with the other.

  “What about you? You’re soaked.”

  She pulled a blanket off the bench at the foot of the bed and handed it to him.

  “Fair is fair.” She said. “You don’t want to be at a high altitude tomorrow with a cold.”

  “Good point.” He headed for the bathroom.

  When he came out wrapped in the blanket, the fire was roaring and it was almost cheerful in the room. Outside, the storm raged on.

  He sat on the bench, his back to her, his mussed hair springing above the blanket. “I didn’t see that coming.” He said gazing into the flames.

  Emma slid under the coverlet. “It happens sometimes.” Was all she said. “I’m sorry I freaked out on you out there.”

  “I understand. You have memories of terrible events. The storm must have triggered them.”

  If he only knew the half of it. Something was going on and she hoped being in Ivy’s room would give them protection. Ivy wouldn’t let anything bad happen to them even if Mason wanted to. A sudden fatigue claimed her, and she yawned, the adrenalin rush wearing off. She snuggled deeper realizing they were trapped in the house for the night or for as long as the storm raged.

  “I’m sorry I brought you out here. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.”

  Adam turned to face her. “None of this is your fault. It’s just horrible weather and exceptionally bad timing, that’s all.” He came around to the side and sat at the edge of the bed keeping the blanket tightly wrapped. She had tossed the towels onto the chair, and he tried not to think about what that implied. She watched him her eyes glimmering in the firelight, the coverlet tucked under her chin. A flash of white light flared through the gap between the curtains and she burrowed deeper. Adam got up and drew them closed.

  “Thanks.”

  He smiled. “Better?”

  She nodded. “You?”

  “Definitely an improvement.” He said.

  “We’re probably stuck here until morning.”

  “It looks that way. The storm doesn’t appear to be lessening.”

  “Sometimes they go on through the night. The last storm took down the chandelier and cut the power. At least this time the chandelier is already down and the power never did come back.” She shrugged under the blankets. “You might as well get comfortable. It could be a long night.”

  “I’m fine for a while. I’ll tend the fire and keep the room warm.”

  Emma yawned again.

  “Why don’t you go ahead and sleep? It seems you could use it.”

  “But what about you?” Emma asked.

  He smiled. “I’ll be fine.” He said in a reassuring tone.

  He was a gentleman. Emma mused, a fatigue dragging her under. With Adam she felt safe and warm, and closed her eyes.

  She was dreaming, had to be because the scene was so familiar. The baby boy slept in her arms. Whose child was this? She had been rocking him and leaned over to set him down in the bassinet. Gradually, she rose from the deep dream state. Logs crackled in the grate and the wind howled just outside the window and drove the rain against it in sharp bursts. Realizing she was not alone, her heart leapt in a panic, then she opened her eyes and saw Adam lying beside her under the blanket he had wrapped himself in earlier. She studied his profile, the nearly perfectly straight nose with the slightest bump, but that added to his charm. His mussed hair curled around his head. Even in sleep his lips curved in the half smile she first noticed at the wedding reception. She had no idea of the time nor did it matter. They were safe for now. Tomorrow seemed far away.

  As if sensing her gaze, he opened his eyes and turned to her. That was all it took for her arm to sn
ake out from beneath the covers and move toward him to touch his cheek roughened by stubble. His hand covered hers and he brought it to his mouth sending a flame through her as his lips grazed her palm. His eyes were deep pools that beckoned her closer, but the blankets wouldn’t allow her to move, and she swept them aside letting the firelight play on her bare skin. She didn’t have long to wait for him to shift nearer and his fingers brushed her cheek, his gaze fixed on hers. Without words, she drew him to her to taste his lips and pressed against him. With her free hand, she tore the blanket away freeing him, desperate with the need to feel him against her, with no barrier between them so close she could barely breathe, longing to be consumed by him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she pulled him to her hungry for more. When their eyes met, a tear escaped. Tonight, he was hers and she his. If this was her last night, so be it. She would happily spend it locked with him.

  She awakened once with his arms around her. The fire had burned down to the last flames and shadows again claimed the corners. A glowing object at the window on the pedestal table she hadn’t noticed earlier caught her eye. Focusing on it, she discovered that it was a flower — a white orchid, but she must be dreaming. No plant could have survived without care for months. When she stirred, he nuzzled her neck and drew her closer. They would make it through the night.

  She closed her eyes.

  CHAPTER 10

  ~*~

  Dressed and gazing through a part in the curtains, he turned around when she stretched and yawned.

  “Good morning.” He smiled.

  “Good morning.” Emma squinted, the brightness a reminder of why she had her bedroom in the west wing. Though overcast, the light still felt harsh. Remembering she had nothing on, she pulled the sheet to her chin. Visions of the night came to her — firelight dancing and shadows drifting and Adam… Her body tingled at the recollection of the carnal dream, for it must have been just that. His demeanor belied that of a man after a night of intense lovemaking.