by Jenny Frame
“Not bad? It’s amazing. Your friends really live here?”
Bridget nodded. “Most people have this reaction when they walk in here.”
“How old is Axedale?” Finn asked.
“The Knight family has been here since 1115, I believe, although they first had a castle a few miles away from here, but they built the manor in 1485 or thereabouts, after they backed the winning side in the War of the Roses. But it has been rebuilt and remodelled many times. It’s one of the finest houses in the country.”
Finn stuffed her hands in her pockets and strode over to Bridge. “I don’t know about you, Vicar. Cambridge, Campari, that accent, and best friends with a countess, shouldn’t you be skiing in St. Moritz or partying in an exclusive London nightclub, and not preaching sermons on Sunday? You never really told me your story.”
Bridge never moved an inch from her position against the pillar, and looked unflappable. “I told you about my family, and honestly, darling, I’m not as interesting as them. As for the clubbing and skiing? I’ve done more than enough for one lifetime. Now I just want to help people and praise God. Let me show you around first.”
There was a part of Bridge she was hiding, or maybe not facing up to, Finn thought. She was sure it was to do with the mysterious Ellen. Something must have made her turn her back on her socialite life to go into the Church.
Bridge had walked off and Finn had to run a few steps to catch up. “You know, when I was just starting out as a magician, I used to do pubs, clubs, and restaurants, some of them really exclusive. Maybe I saw you there sometime.”
She saw Bridge’s body language tense up subtly. Most people wouldn’t have noticed but she did.
“I doubt it, Magician. I went to a particular kind of exclusive club, which I don’t think you would have frequented,” Bridge said without turning around.
Now Finn was really intrigued. She had been in some dives in her time as well as some private members’ clubs and started to rhyme off a few. Bridget never replied, but stopped momentarily when she mentioned one club. “Red’s? I worked there a lot one summer doing close-up magic. Interesting place.”
“Can we get on? I’ll show you the drawing rooms, the library, and the ballroom before we go up to the attic.”
Red’s. She’d hit the nail right on the head. I knew there was something kinky about you, Vicar, and the things she’d seen while working there were definitely kinky.
I’m going to find out your secrets, Bridge. Finn wasn’t just being nosy. She needed to find out about the woman who was constantly in her thoughts.
* * *
Bridget showed Finn all the places she was sure she’d find interesting, and going by her reaction to the house, Finn did appreciate it. First, she took her to the grand ballroom.
“This is one of the most impressive rooms in the house.”
“It’s beautiful.” Finn pointed up to the painted ceiling and asked, “Who painted that?”
“Antonio Verrio. He’s responsible for a great many ceiling paintings in the grandest estates.”
Finn walked over to the large ballroom windows that looked out over the estate grounds. “Everything about this place, this village, seems idyllic. There must be more to it than meets the eye.”
“How so?” Bridge asked.
Finn turned around, “A darker side. This Witch’s Night festival, for example. What’s that all about?”
“Witch’s Night is a lot of fun, and it’s a celebration. Back in the early eighteenth century, Axedale and the surrounding villages had many wise women or white witches, as they called themselves. They were well-loved by the villagers because they handed out natural medicines and potions to the poor who couldn’t afford a doctor. Anyway, one of our wealthier landowners, the Winchesters, had a tragedy. His only son was struck down with a fever. He blamed a local woman, Ethel Fletcher, who did nothing more than help, giving out painkillers, sedatives, things like that. The boy was near the end and his mother went to ask for her help, after the village doctor could do no more.”
“He died? And this Ethel got the blame?” Finn said.
Bridge nodded. “The boy was beyond help, in that era anyway, and his father took out his grief on Ethel Fletcher. Whipped the village men into a frenzy, and they demanded her death—by fire.”
Finn sighed. “That’s barbaric. What about the lord of the manor here at Axedale? Were they on this guy’s side?”
Bridge walked to her, a smile on her face. “Oh no. Not at all, and that’s where the hero of Witch’s Night comes in to it. The lord of the manor at that time was Harry’s most wonderful ancestor, Lady Hildegard. She was everything a woman wasn’t meant to be, a butch in eighteenth-century clothing, sword fighting, riding horses, all that tough stuff.”
Finn smiled. “Sounds like an amazing woman.”
“Even more amazing was that she managed to live here with her”—Bridge made air quotes—“female companion, Katie, as a wife. She really was remarkable. Anyway, Hildegard rode to the rescue and saved Ethel Fletcher. It’s a longer story, but I can tell you all about it when you come to Witch’s Night.”
Finn’s smile dropped away. “No, Bridge. I’m not ready for something like that. I’m all right with you and Quade, but a whole village—no.”
“Come on, Finn. It’s fun,” Bridge said.
“No,” Finn said sharply, and then closed her eyes, regretting it straight away. “I’m sorry. I’m just not ready.” Then she walked off to the door. “Can we get on now?”
“Of course,” Bridge said. Bridge led her into the blue drawing room, the awkwardness between them at least temporarily set aside. The blue room got its name from the dark blue theme running throughout the room, from upholstery and wall hangings to the sky-themed fresco on the ceiling.
“The painting and the architecture are beautiful, Bridge. I would love to paint here,” Finn said.
“I’m sure that can be arranged.” Bridge walked over to the card table by the window. “This is where we play cards every week.”
Bridge watched Finn walk over to the large card table and take a pack of cards from the dispenser. “You just can’t resist when you see a pack of cards, can you?”
“No, they’re part of me. I’ve had cards in my hands since I was ten years old. We moved from place to place a lot when I was a kid, so I never made friends. There was always a new church to perform at for my father and, as he grew more successful, his own shows—or as he would call them, healing ministries. It was easier to make my own entertainment than make friends.”
It was no wonder Finn was such a complex human being. A nomadic life and isolation were so difficult for a child to cope with. “So you taught yourself magic?”
“You could say that. Each new school I went to, I could win over the bullies and impress the girls.”
Bridge walked over to Finn and took the cards from her hands. “Oh, I just bet the girls liked you. That swagger and cocky attitude would certainly impress most girls.”
Finn took a step into her personal space. “But not you, apparently.”
Bridge jabbed her index finger in the middle of Finn’s chest and pushed her back. “I see confidence and swagger rather differently to most. I like to see it and then bring it into check.”
Finn crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Really? Well, I have confidence in my skills and abilities, like cards and card games, so I doubt that could be done. As I said, I’m unbeatable.”
Bridge laughed and walked around Finn slowly and purposefully, as if she were inspecting her. She could hear Finn’s breathing quicken under her close inspection and that gave her a thrill.
You’ve still got it, Bridge.
“An arrogant little thing, aren’t you? Well, how about we have our own little game of cards, here, at this very table, tomorrow night?”
“Vicar. I never lose at cards, but if you’re determined to go through with this charade, let’s make this more interesting. The stake is your clothes,” Finn chall
enged.
“My clothes? Strip poker, you mean?” Bridge said.
Finn’s eyes sparkled with delight. “I’m going to strip that dog collar off you, Vicar. I want to see the woman underneath.”
Oh Finn, Finn. I’m going to enjoy this.
“You can certainly try, but I doubt you’ll get that opportunity. I agree to your terms, with two stipulations. I’ll bring the cards, and I’ll deal every hand. Clear?”
Finn’s jaw tightened momentarily but she replied, “I can beat you with any pack of cards, Vicar. You have a deal.”
They shook hands. “Tomorrow night, pick me up on your motorcycle at seven thirty.”
“You’re going to ride on my bike?” Finn almost squeaked with excitement.
“I am, and I’m looking forward to it.” Bridge leaned in close to Finn and whispered, “It’s a long time since I’ve had something as powerful between my legs.” Bridge was sure she heard Finn groan. “Let’s go to the attic and get what we came for.” She started off towards the door and added, “Make sure you wear some sexy underwear, Magician, because I’m going to see it.”
* * *
The damp, cold Axedale attics were a perfect antidote to Finn’s raging hormones. When Bridge was talking to her in the blue drawing room, she was wet and ready for anything Bridge wanted to do with her. It was insane. She’d worked with some stunning women on tour, some who were willing to do anything to sleep with the star, but that was boring and humdrum compared to Bridget Claremont, and she was going to have so much fun stripping her down tomorrow night.
As much as it thrilled Finn to please Bridge, she was not going to lose at cards, especially not to a vicar.
“It’s just up the next set of stairs,” Bridge said.
They climbed the unfinished wooden stairs and found themselves in a large attic, almost as big as the ballroom downstairs. There were boxes, dusty chairs, and other creepy items all around the walls, and shelving with tableware, silverware, and china. On the sloping roof there were a few windows letting in much-needed light.
“This place is straight from a horror film, Bridge.”
She laughed. “I know. It used to both terrify and intrigue us when we were children. We played here a lot.”
“Did you spend a lot of time here as a kid?” Finn asked as she walked around looking at the china on the shelves.
“Yes, once I met Harry at boarding school, we’d be with my family at the holidays for a part of the time, and then come here. Harry’s father didn’t much care what we were up to, so we pretty much had the run of the place.”
Finn saw paintings, tapestries, books, and antiques as she looked around. “Some of these dusty items must be worth a fortune.”
“Probably. Harry has never gotten around to checking through the lot yet. There’s a lot of unusual things—come and see this.”
Finn followed Bridge over to the corner where there was a gold birdcage on a stand. When she looked in, she jumped in fright. “Jesus fucking Christ!”
“Tut-tut. No swearing, Magician.” Bridge laughed at her fright.
Inside the cage was a skull and a collection of smaller bones. “What are they?”
“They’ve always been kept in that birdcage as far as we can tell. Harry’s grandfather remembers them being here when he was a boy. There’s a rumour that they could be a Roman burial that a previous occupier of the estate dug up in the grounds. There are a lot of Roman remains all over Axedale.”
“That is creepy—” Finn’s words died in her throat when she spotted a teddy bear on a chair in the corner. Just like Carrie’s. She walked over and picked it up with trembling hands.
“What’s wrong, Finn?” Bridget said.
Finn didn’t answer. She checked the label and found it was a Steiff bear. It looked the same in every way. She felt Bridge’s hand on her arm, and she started to calm her hammering heart. Bridge always made her calm.
“Finn? What’s wrong?”
“This bear. It’s exactly like Carrie’s. She always loved teddy bears and soft toys. She had a lot of inexpensive ones she’d collected over the years, but she always wanted a Steiff bear. I promised her that when I made it big, I would buy her one.”
“And did you?”
Finn nodded and felt the tears coming to her eyes. “I always kept my promises to Carrie.”
“What happened to her, Finn?” Bridge asked.
“She came to me eight months ago, after a show, to tell me she had terminal cancer.” Now she had said it out loud, and tears rolled down her face. “She died and I couldn’t help her, not with any money, any trick, nothing could save her.”
Bridget tried to take Finn in her arms but Finn pushed her away. “No, don’t comfort me. I don’t deserve it.”
“Why? You loved her. Of course you do.”
“Because of me she died a frightened little girl.” Finn stormed off to the other end of the attic.
* * *
Bridget was certainly not expecting Finn to open up about her sister on a walk through Axedale’s dusty attics, but she had often noticed that it was the little things that sometimes broke the dam of emotions after a loved one died. She approached Finn gingerly, trying not to scare her away.
Finn rubbed her face vigorously and turned around. “Let’s get the stuff you wanted and get out of here.”
Bridge placed her palms on Finn’s chest, hoping her touch would calm her. “No, don’t run from this. Tell me. I promise—”
“All it will do is make things worse—then one more person will know what a hypocrite bastard I am.”
She thought she might never get this kind of moment again with Finn. Alone, out of the way, and on their own, with Finn showing some vulnerability. Bridge tried a different tack.
“Listen, tomorrow you think you’re going to strip me out of my dog collar. I think if we are both prepared to get naked together, then we can trust each other. You think?”
Bridge was sure she spotted the tiny beginnings of a smile on Finn’s face, so she took a chance and led Finn over to sit on a couple of boxes. “Now I want you to talk because I’m not getting my Chanel skirt dusty for nothing.”
“You’re like a rabid dog, Vicar. You never give up.”
Bridge took Finn’s hand and held it between her own. “I will never tell anyone what you tell me. Think of this as a confessional.”
Finn looked at the boxes and back to Bridge. “I don’t think a Catholic church is set up quite like this, and you’re the wrong sex.”
“I prefer to think of myself as the right sex. Now shush with your stalling tactics and talk to me.”
Finn sighed. “When my dad left, and I got us out of that religious world, we each reacted differently to being free from that dogma. I was already on my way to becoming an atheist before we left. The things I had seen my father do, how he twisted God’s words to benefit himself, how he tricked people with his apparent healings, it all just turned me against God and spirituality.”
“But not your sister, I take it?” Bridge said.
“No, not Carrie. She went heavily into the New Age movement. Angels, crystals, meditation, and spirituality. She believed in God and a higher power, all that peace, love stuff. We had a few arguments when I was younger and headstrong.”
“You mean you’re not that now, Magician?” Bridget joked.
Finn smiled. “Believe me, when I was seventeen, I was even more impressed with my own importance. After a while I realized that everyone has their own coping methods for a dysfunctional childhood, and that was hers. I went off to prove everyone and everything wrong, while she sat quietly on the sidelines with her own beliefs, but always loving me, supporting me, and taking care of me in all her little ways.”
“Who was your father?”
Finn immediately looked fearful, and got up from the box. “No one knows, except my manager. If the public ever found out, I would never work again, not that it matters much any more. When Carrie and I started our new life, I chose Kan
e as our family name, and Finnian suited the illusion that I wanted to project.”
Bridge realized Finn was struggling with the truth of who she was, and she didn’t need that burden, not now anyway. She walked over to Finn and cupped her cheek. “I don’t need to know. Tell me when you’ve worked it out in your head, okay?”
Finn nodded and leaned into her hand as if she was desperately trying to find comfort in her. Finn closed her eyes and covered Bridge’s hand with hers so she wouldn’t move. “Carrie looked up to me. She thought I was this kind of hero who gave us a good life and took care of her, but I was no hero. I couldn’t even help her to die with peace in her heart. In her last days, she was full of morphine and rambled about the past, about who would be waiting for her on the other side, about our mother—but then on her last day, she had some clarity, talking to me. She started to say, what if there was nothing, what if I was right and there was nothing but death. In the end, she believed all the shit I talked all these years.”
Finn opened her eyes that were full of pain, and said, “She died scared, terrified, and in so much pain because she believed me. I caused that.”
Bridget’s heart broke for Finn. “Please don’t think that, Finn. She would have questioned her beliefs in any case. I’ve been by the bedside of many people as they come to the end of their lives, and everyone feels panic. They question everything simply because they fear death, and in the final moments even more so.”
Finn stood up and walked back over to the teddy bear. “But she always looked up to me, and if I hadn’t wasted my life trying to debunk every spiritual phenomenon people took comfort in, she might have believed and not been scared.”
Bridget went over and grasped Finn gently by the arms. “Finn, what happened to make you lose your faith in everything you believed in?”
Finn seemed to be about to speak, but they were interrupted by Julie, one of the housemaids, and they jumped apart.
“Oh, sorry, Vicar. Bev asked me to come and give you a hand.”
“Oh, thank you, Julie.”
Finn retreated, and Bridge cursed her bad luck. She nearly had Finn’s story, she’d nearly opened to her, and now Finn was back in her shell.
