10 Timeless Heroes; A Time Travel Romance Boxed Set
Page 230
Damn! He’d suspected she’d been hiding her pills in her mouth and pretending to swallow them. How she stood the bitter taste until she could get them out, he didn’t know. Maybe her taste buds were affected by the injury to her head.
Half dressed in pants and shoes, he ran down the stairs and out the back door. Both gazebo doors stood wide open. “Miriam. Miriam! Where are you?” It was light enough to see she wasn’t anywhere in the open. Dread clutched at his heart as he strode toward the pond. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that she wasn’t floating in the water. But, where was she? He strode quickly to the trees, searching behind every bush.
Irene called from the gazebo. “Should I call the constable?”
“Yes! Call the neighbors, too,” he yelled back.
Fear clutching his heart, he zigzagged through the property looking for any sign of Miriam. He found nothing. When he returned to the pond, the constable and another officer waited for him.
“Did you see anything, Mr. Chapeau?”
He dropped his hands to his knees and took deep breaths. “Nothing. Not a thing.”
The constable wrote something in his little pad, then snapped it closed and stuffed it in the pocket of his uniform. “I’m Constable Jones, and this is my associate, Mr. O’Day.”
Still out of breath, Miles nodded and offered his hand to each man. “Thank you for coming... so quickly. We... we need to find my wife. She’s not right.”
“Yes, yes, your housekeeper explained the situation. We have a search team on the way with a bloodhound, so don’t lose hope. We’ll find her.” He took Miles’ arm. “Let’s go up to the house. No need to further muck up any footprints out here.”
Inside the kitchen, Miles looked around for the children.
Irene shoved him into a chair. “Don’t worry. They’re with the neighbors.”
He felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. They’d have a good time with the kids down the road and not be around to witness the search. Hopefully, Miriam would be found soon and he wouldn’t have to explain anything to them.
The constable sat with him at the table and drank tea as he asked questions. As soon as the bloodhound arrived, O’Day sat down and Constable Jones went out to meet the handler. Several minutes later, he came back inside.
“Mr. Chapeau, could we have your shoes? The evidence team is here to look for footprints and need a comparison.”
Miles slipped off his shoes and handed them to him. “Let me get on another pair and I’ll come with you.”
“That won’t be necessary. We need you to stay inside. Another team will look around inside. You need to check to see if any of your wife’s clothes are missing, her purse or perhaps a suitcase.”
“Constable, I’ve told you my wife has the mind of a six-year-old child.”
“Humor me, Mr. Chapeau. Let me do my job.”
Miles shrugged. “Irene will know more about her clothes. I haven’t seen her with a purse, except the one she uses for playing dress-up, in the two years I’ve been home.”
He heard Irene’s footsteps going upstairs followed by someone’s heavier tread. It was thirty minutes later when they came down. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Not a thing missing except the nightgown she wore to bed.”
The Constable came back in. “The hound lost her scent six feet past the gazebo. Her footprints stopped there also.”
*****
Carlisle, UK, September 2007
Sitting cross-legged on her mother’s bed, Loren again flipped through the pages of the scrapbooks she’d spent hours perusing when she’d first arrived at the cottage. Many of the items her mother had saved had come unglued. Today, with glue handy, she went through and pasted dried flowers from dances, valentines, pictures, and a variety of other things girls thought important to save. When finished, she put the album back on the bookshelf in her mother’s room.
She’d set up her computer on the desk in the parlor, and over the past two weeks, when not walking in the garden or exploring the house, she’d spent hours researching and typing up ideas for projects—stories she wanted to write. Now she was ready to check for books on writing. As soon as possible, she’d go into the village to the library.
Beside the computer was the photo album she’d found on the bookshelf. It held pictures of her mother and parents. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why they’d left it behind when they moved. Maybe it had been misplaced, or it was possible her grandparents had left it here on purpose, for her mother when she visited. Did they have any idea their granddaughter would one day be looking through the snapshots?
Her mother had been a toddler when they bought the cottage. There were a variety of pictures of her mother at different ages. She’d been a pretty child and a beautiful woman. Loren looked very little like her blonde-haired mother. She favored her father’s family with her chestnut hair and brown eyes.
At the back of the book, she’d found a loose picture of a couple with two children. It was a glossy black and white photograph. The stamp on the back said 1950. The man had his arm around the lady and a child clung to each of their hips. They were laughing at whoever took the picture. She smiled at the happiness they exuded. She’d pondered their identity since her arrival.
She could hear Molly singing in the kitchen, so took the picture to show her. “Do you know who these people are?”
Molly took the picture and studied it closely. “I don’t know for a fact, but think this is Miles Chapeau and his family.” She handed the photo back. “Actually, the woman in the picture isn’t the children’s mother.” Face scrunched in thought, she said, “Seems I remember a story about his wife drowning in the mill pond. No, that’s not right. I think she just disappeared one day. The reason I thought she’d drowned is they drained the pond looking for her.”
“Goodness. That’s freaky.”
“Yeah, it was a big to-do around here from the rumors still flying around. Folks thought Mr. Chapeau had killed the woman and done a good job hiding her grave.”
“Who is this woman then?”
“I think she’s his second wife.” Molly scrubbed the counter with a vengeance and then stopped. “Or maybe she’s the nanny.”
Nanny thought Loren. They’re mighty cozy to be employer and employee— maybe lovers was more like it. She squinted to look closer but the woman’s face was turned to the man’s so all she got was a side view. For some reason, she looked familiar.
“I tell you, lovey, if you want to learn more about your mum and the people who lived here before, pop in and visit with Mrs. Rafferty. No need to call. She’s always got the tea on and welcomes company.”
Ah, the lady with the plaid flag outside. “You mean the Scottish lady?”
She grinned. “Yes, she’s the one. Mind what she tells you though. The woman is very superstitious and apt to garnish the stories a bit.”
Loren spent the remainder of the day working on her laptop researching fiction types, again. She read through her notes and made a decision—she’d write a romantic suspense novel. It was a genre she enjoyed reading. Writing groups she’d checked into online suggested a variety of books to help her get started. Hopefully the library would have some she could check out on loan.
After breakfast the next morning, Loren pulled an old red bicycle with a battered rattan basket from the storage shed. With the basket filled with roses, the ends wrapped in tissue paper, she set off down the lane toward town. Her legs ached, her muscles burned on the hills reminding her how out of shape she was. She passed several cottages before spotting the one with the plaid flag.
She parked her tandem by the mailbox and looked down at what she had on. Should she have worn a dress? She snorted. Yeah, right, she could see that with her on a bicycle. Her clean jeans and pale blue sweater were fine.
Flowers in hand, she approached the door. Before she could ring the bell, the door opened.
Ethyl Rafferty’s smile welcomed her. “Ah, lass, I’m so glad you’ve come at las
t for a cup of tea and a chat. Come in, come in.” She stepped inside and the older woman closed the door while giving her a bold once over. Nothing shy about this lady.
“Thank you, Mrs. Rafferty. Your husband and Molly assured me you were accustomed to unscheduled callers, so here I am.”
Loren watched as she tossed her head and laughed, enjoying the musical sound in its sincerity and delight. How wonderful to be so truly spontaneous and happy.
“Please, call me Ethyl. And I’ll call you Loren. Such a pretty name.”
Loren handed her the roses. “Oh, here, these are for you. Of course, your garden is probably full of them, but these were such a rare color, I couldn’t resist.”
Nose against the blooms, she breathed deeply. “Lovely! I have a few bushes but none as pretty as these. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m pleased you like them.”
“Go have a seat while I put these in water.”
Loren sank into the overstuffed small sofa. Pillows of crewel embroidery and needlepoint covered the cushions. She had to move some aside to get comfortable.
Ethyl waltzed in, chattering away. “Oh, these will be lovely on the table by the window.” She moved things around and set them in the middle. “There, that’s where they belong.”
She left the room again. “I’ve got the tea on and will be back in a jiffy.” Her voice followed her into the kitchen.
Loren smiled and studied the pattern on one of the pillows. The cottage looked very much like the one she lived in.
Ethyl came in with a heavy tray loaded with teapot and all the accouterments.
Loren stood. “Here, let me help you.” She took the tray. “Where would you like it?”
Mrs. Rafferty moved things on the coffee table aside. “Right here will be just fine. I’ll sit here on the sofa beside you.” She poured the tea. Loren asked for one cube of sugar. “Do you want milk?”
“I’ve never liked it that way as it makes my tea cold.”
Ethyl poured in a generous amount, stirred it, and handed it to her. “It’s time you learned to drink a proper cup of tea, young woman.”
Loren had to admit, it was good, still hot. “This is nice.”
She nodded. “It’s all in the preparation. Now, tell me, how are you getting along in the cottage?”
“Oh, I love it. As a matter of fact, I think I’m going to extend my vacation.”
“How wonderful. It’s nice to see the place occupied, and I’m sure Molly enjoys the extra pay.”
Loren set her empty cup on the tray. “Speaking of Molly, she told me you know all about the history of the house. I found a picture at the back of my grandparents’ photo album. She thought it might have been the family who owned the cottage before 1955 when Gran and Granddaddy Haverty bought it.”
Ethyl placed her cup on the tray and leaned into the corner of the short sofa. “Tell me, what did they look like?”
“It was a happy young couple and two children.”
Ethyl thought for a minute. “Did the woman have blonde hair?”
“No, but the little girl did.” It was hard to tell from a black and white photo. “I think the woman’s hair was brown, similar to the color of the man’s.”
“I’m pretty sure the man is Miles Chapeau,” said Ethyl. “His family built the cottage and Miles inherited it in the late 1930’s. From what I understand, his wife, Miriam, and daughter, Mary, moved here from London with a lady named Irene who looked after them.”
She shook her head sadly. “Mrs. Chapeau received a head injury during the city bombings and wasn’t quite right. Not long after they settled in, she delivered a baby boy. From then on, she was like the third child in the family.”
“Why isn’t she in the picture and who is the other woman?”
“In the fall of 1947, Miriam disappeared off the face of the earth. No trace of her has ever been found.”
“My, God. How awful for him.”
“Maybe, maybe not. There was a big to-do in town. Folks thought he’d killed her and done away with the body. They treated him like a criminal, yet the police had no evidence.”
“What do you think?”
She shrugged. “It was before my time, so I don’t really have an opinion; however, it was odd that the other woman showed up so soon after Miriam’s disappearance. There were all sorts of stories about her. Some say she just appeared out of nowhere one day. Others believed she had something to do with Miriam’s disappearance, or murder or whatever.” She shrugged. “But it couldn’t be proven.”
“Did he marry her?”
She snorted. “Because a body was never found, a death certificate couldn’t be obtained. She lived under his roof for as long as he lived in the cottage.” She threw her hands up in the air. “Of course, all I’ve heard is rumors and speculation since I wasn’t around at the time, but gossip was, the two were sleeping together shortly after she arrived.”
Chapter Two
Loren peddled into the yard to see police cars and an ambulance in the drive. What on earth has happened? She ran into the house and breathed a sigh of relief to see Molly sitting on the sofa. Beside her was a policeman.
Molly jumped up. She’d taken her cleaning smock off and for the first time Loren saw her in regular clothes. The pink shirt she wore emphasized the blue of her eyes. The jeans hugged her ample hips, thighs, and rear, but she looked quite nice. “Here she is now, Constable.”
“What’s going on Molly? Is Gus okay?”
Molly patted her hand. “He’s fine. I’ll let the constable explain. Constable Sanders, this is Loren Fairchild, the young woman staying in the cottage.”
The officer rose to his feet and shook her hand. “Mrs. Fairchild. I’m sorry we meet under these circumstances.”
“What are you referring to?”
He pulled a digital camera from his breast pocket, turned it on, and handed it to her. “Have you ever seen this woman before?”
With long blonde hair and wearing a full-length white gown, the young woman resembled a sprite from a fairy tale. “No, I’ve never seen her before. Why?”
“She came into the house scaring Molly half to death. When Molly realized the lady wasn’t right, you know, uh . . . simple, she called us.” He studied her closely. “She’s been incoherent so we’ve not been able to get any information from her. You sure you don’t know her?”
“Constable, this is my first trip to Carlisle. I know four people here, now five including you—Molly, Gus, Ethyl Rafferty and her husband.”
He stood to leave. “If we find out anything, we’ll let you know. It’s really strange. Molly said the woman went upstairs to your bedroom and started going through your clothes, trying them on over her gown. Acted like the house was familiar to her.”
Loren watched him leave and went in search of Molly.
As Molly finished brewing them a pot of tea she explained how the woman had walked in on her while cleaning the upstairs bathroom. “She threw her arms around me from behind in a bear hug.” Hand to her heart, Molly added, “Of course at the time, I didn’t realize it was a hug. You can imagine how startled I was. I screamed, and she turned me loose and started giggling, jumping up and down.” Chewing her bottom lip, she added, “When I turned around, she stopped and with her face all scrunched up, she said, ‘Where’s Irene?’” Molly shook her head, chewing her bottom lip. “Poor little thing. I hope they can find where she belongs. I’m sure someone is frantic, wondering where she can be, if she’s hurt or safe.”
“I expect you’re right,” said Loren. Here it was the middle of the day and the woman turns up in a nightgown. Could she have been out all night roaming the wooded area around the pond? “To be in her night clothes, she must have been missing all morning at least.” She shook her head. “I hope she won’t get sick from being out dressed like she was.”
Molly clucked. “Poor little dear. So sad.”
*****
With nothing else to do, Loren rode the bicycle into Carl
isle to visit the library. Tired and breathless when she finally reached her destination, she visited a nearby pub for something cool to drink. A nice cold mug of beer sounded good. What she got was a nice warm mug of beer. It was wet, and she forced herself to drink the noxious brew. She must have had Yank stamped on her forehead. People cast her curious glances and some chuckled while she drank. Lord, she hoped they missed the shudder after her first taste.
As soon as her mug was empty, another appeared. Loren looked up. “Uh, I didn’t order another beer.”
The barmaid grinned. “I know, miss.” She tossed her head. “Those gents over there bought it. Said to tell you, ‘Welcome to Carlisle.’”
Loren looked over at the smirking group of men. They raised their mugs in salute. She forced a smile to her lips, and lifted the mug in a return greeting.
“Miss, I think you better bring me something to eat.” Two beers on an empty stomach wasn’t smart. Though she’d eaten at Ethyl’s, her stomach growled.
“How do fish and chips sound?”
“Good. Oh, and can you bring me a glass of water?”
The food was yummy. She ate every bite, drank a full glass of water, and managed to choke down the beer. She paid her check and got up to leave. Looking around, she tried to locate the bathroom. The bar maid pointed to the sign that said “Loo.”
Grateful to be out of the bar, and too full to boot, she made for the library just down the street. It was fabulous. Old with dark wood paneling and shelves, its ambience shouted hall of learning. Loren could have spent days browsing and not seen all she wanted. She found several books, applied for a library card, and returned to her bicycle. The trip downhill was much easier. As good exercise as the bicycle was, tomorrow she’d rent a car and start planning the sites she wanted to visit.
Molly had gone when she got home. Loren’s legs were like rubber as she walked from the shed to the backdoor. A note on the kitchen counter said the constable had called to say they’d learned nothing more about the woman. Poor thing. Hopefully they’d find her family soon. They must be frantic.