The Silent Touch of Shadows

by Christina Courtenay

  She didn’t answer immediately, but placed a shoe box on the table and opened the lid. Inside, nestled on top of a pink tea towel, was a tiny hedgehog.

  ‘I found him in the middle of my lawn this morning, Mr Precy. He wasn’t moving and I thought the little mite was just cold, so I brought him indoors. He wouldn’t touch a drop of milk, though, just lies there looking sorry for himself. You’d better have a look at him.’

  With infinite care Jake felt for broken bones before lifting the little creature out of the box. He put it on the table and listened to its breathing. He had a shrewd idea what ailed the hedgehog, but examined him thoroughly before making a diagnosis.

  ‘You did right to bring him, Mrs Wycliff. I think the little fellow has pneumonia. Can you hear his laboured breathing?’ In the silence of the surgery, the wheezing noise coming from the tiny animal’s throat could be clearly heard.

  ‘Oh, yes, poor little thing!’ The old lady tilted her head to one side to look at it.

  ‘Not to worry, I’ll keep him here for a while and put him on antibiotics. That should do the trick. When he’s feeling better I’ll give you a call and you can keep him in your greenhouse for the rest of the winter, if you don’t mind. That way he should survive.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Precy, that’s very kind.’

  ‘Not at all. You’ll probably have to feed him, though. I don’t think he’s strong enough to hibernate this year. Just some dog food and milk once a day. Can you do that?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll see to it, don’t you worry.’

  He walked her to the door. ‘Goodbye then, Mrs Wycliff. Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Goodbye. I’ll look forward to hearing from you.’

  As he gently lifted the hedgehog to give him an injection of antibiotics, Jake’s mind returned to the subject of the woman in his dreams. It was that other woman’s fault, the one who’d fainted into his arms outside the baker’s shop earlier on, he was sure. Meeting her had triggered something inside him, although for the life of him he didn’t know what it could be.

  Yes, he’d been attracted to her. He’d have had to be made of stone not to, in all honesty, but that wasn’t all. No, something about her had struck a chord deep inside him. But why?

  ‘You’re cracking up, Jake,’ he muttered to himself.

  She was just a woman, and he’d been without one for too long. Holding her so close, his body had reacted predictably. End of story.

  On auto-pilot, he settled the hedgehog into a cage and made sure there was fresh water and food within easy reach. He filled out a sheet of care instructions for his assistant and hung it on the cage door, while his brain returned to the subject of the red-headed female. Well, not red exactly, he corrected himself. A deep, rich auburn, like a fresh chestnut, just out of its shell. The kind of colour that would look wonderful in candle light …

  Jake shook his head. What the hell is the matter with me?

  The little hedgehog continued his wheezing and regarded him sadly out of huge brown eyes. Jake stared back. ‘Yeah, little fellow,’ he whispered, ‘life is strange, eh?’ But some things were stranger than others.

  Perhaps it was time he found out more about Ashleigh Cottage. He was beginning to believe it might be haunted. Or at the very least, a witch had lived there and she’d cast a spell on him … He smiled at the thought. Ridiculous!

  Another sneeze from the hedgehog made him snap out of this idiotic thinking. Still, it wouldn’t do any harm to ask someone about the cottage’s history, would it?

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘There’s a story which has been passed down through our family,’ Dorothy began. ‘Long ago a daughter of the house fell in love with someone unsuitable. Her name was Sybil, I believe, and she was supposedly the daughter or grand-daughter of the man who had Ashleigh built, so this must have been some time in the fifteenth century.’

  Melissa felt as if a warning bell sounded inside her head; the name seemed very familiar. She had to force herself to concentrate on Dorothy’s next words.

  ‘Unfortunately,’ her aunt continued, ‘Sybil’s father had already decided that she was to marry someone else, so she wasn’t allowed to marry her beloved. I don’t know his name, but perhaps he was the Roger you mentioned? The lady was, of course, deeply unhappy with this and refused the man her father had chosen for her. She was crazed with grief and it’s said that she turned to a witch for help in exacting revenge. The witch cast a spell on the family so that all Sybil’s brothers died before their father, and Ashleigh manor came to her on her father’s death as she was the only child left.’

  Dorothy paused for a moment, then went on, ‘I think the young man had been her lover because she bore a child, a daughter. The house has been passed from mother to daughter ever since. And it has been reputed to be haunted for centuries.’ Dorothy looked at Melissa with an apologetic shrug. ‘It’s probably all rubbish, but it made a great tale to tell the children round the fire in the evenings.’

  ‘Hmm. I’ve learned to take most family stories with a pinch of salt. I hear an awful lot of them from my clients. This one does sound a bit more credible though – apart from the bit about the witch, that’s just silly – and it could be the explanation. But why didn’t Sybil marry her lover after the rest of her family died? She could have done whatever she wanted then. And why is he haunting this place and not her? Surely it should be the other way around?’

  Dorothy shrugged once more. ‘I don’t know. Perhaps he was already dead? There is no mention of his name in the story and those were uncertain times. There is more though.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This ghost that you have seen appears to all the red-haired women of this house. So you see, you’re not the first one he has haunted. Please, do try not to become too affected by it all.’

  ‘Oh. I wondered why he picked me. You’ve lived here for so much longer than I have, I thought surely he should have shown himself to you too.’

  Her great-aunt looked sad. ‘No, I was blonde.’ She paused. ‘But my sister saw him.’

  Melissa gasped. ‘You mean Grandma Ruth?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dorothy grew silent and Melissa waited for her to explain, but her aunt hesitated. Finally she sighed again. ‘I see that I shall have to tell you everything. I was going to wait until you’d been here a bit longer, but I suppose you might as well know now.’

  ‘Know what?’ Melissa was about to expire with curiosity. She was finally going to learn the reason for the estrangement between the sisters and now Dorothy was stalling. She couldn’t bear it. ‘Go on, please,’ she urged impatiently.

  ‘Very well. As I said, Ashleigh Manor has been in our family for centuries and it has always been passed down from mother to daughter and never, as far as I know, to a son. Now your grandmother, my sister Ruth, was the eldest and as such the house should have been hers, but my mother decided to give it to me instead. There was nothing to prevent her doing that.’

  ‘The house isn’t entailed in any way, then?’

  ‘No.’ Dorothy shook her head. ‘There’s nothing written down. The tradition has been carried on anyway, a sort of pact between mothers and daughters, if you will.’ She paused to take a deep breath. Melissa was spellbound and waited silently for her to continue. ‘Unfortunately Ruth and I were forever quarrelling and when our mother left this house to me, well, that was the end really. My sister never spoke to me again.’

  ‘But why would your mother exclude her like that? Didn’t Grandma Ruth get anything?’ Melissa was puzzled.

  ‘A little bit of money, but most of it is tied up in the house and a lot is needed for the upkeep.’

  ‘How very odd. As far as I can remember, Grandma was extremely staid. I can’t imagine that she’d ever done anything of which a parent could disapprove that strongly.’

  ‘That she was. I’m not sure what happened, dear, there was some argument. I tried to have the will revoked, but Mother had made absolutely certain it was all legal. And I couldn’t sell
the house either and give Ruth half the money. The will stipulated that if the house was ever sold in my lifetime the proceeds would go to charity. In other words, I’m only the custodian until it passes to the next generation. Since Ruth and your mother are no longer with us, and I have no daughters, this house will therefore be yours one day.’

  ‘Mine?’

  ‘Yes, dear.’

  ‘Oh, no!’ So Steve was right after all. That was annoying, although Melissa didn’t see how it affected her economic situation in the short term. ‘But … but are you sure you can’t leave it to anyone else? You have only known me for a few weeks.’ Melissa was genuinely confused.

  ‘No, I could never do that. Ashleigh Manor belongs to our family and I intend it to stay that way. If you don’t want it, I will make a will in favour of Jolie.’

  Melissa stared at her aunt. ‘I’m stunned, Dorothy. I don’t know what to say. I mean, this is totally unexpected. I didn’t even know the house existed until a couple of months ago.’ She frowned and recalled the reason why the subject had come up in the first place. ‘But what does all this have to do with Grandma seeing the ghost?’

  ‘Ah, yes, I was coming to that. You see, I have a feeling the quarrel between my mother and her had something to do with Ruth’s obsession with this ghost, but I’m not sure. I was much younger and not allowed to participate in any family discussions.’

  ‘That’s a shame. You’re sure she saw the same ghost?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You do know she had reddish hair, just like you? That must have been why she saw him. She told me about him once and she looked completely besotted. I heard her scream to mother that she never wanted to marry because she had found her one true love already.’

  Melissa shivered involuntarily. Besotted. That was exactly how she had felt at the sight of Roger. Weak at the knees, butterflies in her stomach, erratic heartbeat. Completely and utterly in love. Another tremor, but of fear this time, passed down her spine.

  ‘And yet, she did marry eventually and produced my mother, so she must have forgotten. Maybe the infatuation wears off?’

  ‘Yes, I believe it does, with time and distance. But by then, we were already estranged so I can’t know for sure.’

  ‘Perhaps the ghost gives up, when he realises he’s not going to get the help he’s asking for. Assuming that’s what he does with everyone and not just me.’

  ‘Well, yes, and if he’s still here, then no one has succeeded in helping him, I guess,’ Dorothy added.

  Melissa nodded slowly while thinking this over. ‘Is there anything else you can tell me? I really want to get to the bottom of this.’

  Dorothy smiled. ‘No, nothing else, dear. I think that’s quite enough for one day, don’t you?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely.’ Melissa hesitated, then decided she had to enlist Dorothy’s support. ‘Umm, could I ask you a favour, please?’

  ‘Of course, anything.’

  ‘I’d be very grateful if you don’t tell anyone that I’m going to inherit this house. You know, because of Steve.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I won’t breathe a word. No one is allowed to see my will until I’m gone so he can’t prove a thing. I’ll lie like a trooper if anyone asks me. Don’t you worry. He won’t be able to wriggle out of paying maintenance for Jolie as is right and proper.’ Dorothy had a steely glint in her eye and Melissa smiled at her having mixed up her metaphors, but she was grateful for the support.

  ‘Thanks, I really appreciate it.’ It was wonderful to feel that she wasn’t alone any more. There was someone on her side. She stood up, full of determination now. ‘Do you know if the local library is open this afternoon?’

  ‘Why, yes, I believe it is.’

  ‘Good. I might as well start my search there. Or at the very least, they can point me in the right direction.’

  ‘A strange occurrence, wasn’t it? Snow in March? I didn’t look to see you for weeks, my dear, judging by the state of the roads.’ Maude enveloped Sibell in a scented embrace and the latter relaxed, as always.

  ‘Indeed, most unusual. All those lovely spring flowers completely covered. I do hope they survived. But how do you all fare?’ Sibell hadn’t been able to stand the stifling atmosphere at Ashleigh a moment longer, and had taken her mare onto the muddy road to Idenhurst, despite dire warnings from the groom.

  ‘Very well, thank you.’ Maude’s eyes took on a mischievous glint. ‘And your handsome young man was forced to remain as well. He told me he daren’t risk an injury to his precious destrier.’

  Sibell felt herself blush. Maude obviously hadn’t given up her match-making, even though it was doomed to failure. ‘Maude, he is not “my” young man. I told you …’

  ‘… that he’d never look twice at a red-headed beanpole, yes, yes, I know.’ Maude wagged a finger at her. ‘But that’s not what you look like. Why, your hair is a gorgeous shade of chestnut and there is nothing wrong with your figure at all. Some men like tall women and those freckles are simply charming. So, no more such talk, if you please.’

  Sibell shook her head, but said nothing more on that subject as they simply wouldn’t agree. ‘Well, it must have been irksome for Sir Roger to remain so long,’ she commented.

  ‘On the contrary, he’s kept himself very busy.’

  ‘Really? Doing what?’

  ‘Training his squire in fighting and swordplay. I’ve watched them occasionally and he drives the boy hard, but not unfairly, while practising diligently himself. Even some of Gilbert’s men are taking note and have offered to let him train with them. I believe he’s teaching them new skills this very moment and I wouldn’t be surprised if–’

  The door burst open and Maude was interrupted in mid-sentence. One of the newer maidservants almost tumbled head first through the door in her haste, a stricken expression on her face. ‘Oh, my lady, come quickly! There’s a fight going on and it looks likely to be serious. You must stop them!’

  ‘Who?’ Maude demanded, standing up and craning her neck to try and see out of the window. ‘Who’s fighting?’

  ‘Why, it’s Sir Roger and two of the Ashleigh brothers, my lady. Only, it’s so unfair, them being two against one.’

  Sibell and Maude looked at each other, then headed for the stairs and out into the courtyard at a half-run. They immediately spotted the throng of people who formed a ragged circle round the combatants, and hurried to join their ranks.

  ‘What is happening here?’ Maude demanded of the nearest man, elbowing him to gain his attention.

  ‘That young knight has offered to teach the Ashleigh brothers a lesson,’ the man replied with a smirk.

  Sibell felt her insides go cold. She knew Simon and Edmund caused a lot of mischief and weren’t well liked, but she didn’t want to see them badly hurt. Nor Sir Roger, of course.

  ‘I’ll put a stop to this,’ Maude said and tried to push forward, but the man, who happened to be Sir Gilbert’s steward and therefore a man of some authority, held her back.

  ‘No, my lady, don’t. I think it best to leave them to it. Look over there, your husband isn’t doing anything to intervene.’ Sir Gilbert was indeed to be glimpsed on the opposite side of the circle and this stopped Maude.

  ‘What on earth started this then?’ she asked, clearly irritated.

  ‘One of them called him a “whoreson”. Couldn’t stand for that, now could he?’

  ‘Hmph, men,’ Maude muttered, but she and Sibell were soon as caught up in watching the spectacle before them as everyone else.

  ‘Dear Lord, don’t let him be hurt,’ Sibell prayed, before realising she ought to be asking God to help her brothers, not Sir Roger. They were family, after all. But she couldn’t deny to herself that he was more important to her and if anything happened to him, she would be devastated.

  As for her brothers, they deserved no prayers from her if they’d started this.

  Roger didn’t often get angry, but the Ashleigh brothers had been trying to rile him for days and he’d finally had enough. It
was one thing if not everyone welcomed his advice on swordplay; outright insults altogether another.

  ‘I don’t know who he thinks he is, coming in here and lording it over the rest of us like a cock on a dung-heap,’ stocky, red-haired Simon had been heard to complain loudly to his brother that morning after practice.

  ‘Yes, a whoreson, that’s what he is!’ Edmund, equally stocky, but with a blond tint to his red thatch of hair, spat on the ground for emphasis and grinned maliciously.

  It wasn’t unusual to be born on the wrong side of the blanket, and no one had ever held it against him before, but to infer that his mother was a whore was more than Roger could stomach. He couldn’t possibly let anyone slight her like that, especially two such cocky youths whose own mother didn’t seem to have instilled any manners into them. His jaw had tightened and he had decided to deal with them once and for all.

  ‘Perhaps you’d care to teach me a lesson?’ he’d suggested, ‘after you introduce yourselves, as the gentlemen you undoubtedly are.’ He knew their names already, of course, but they’d never spoken to him directly.

  The two young men glared at him, hearing the sarcasm and underlying menace in his voice, then smiled at each other. They were clearly spoiling for a fight and confident of victory.

  ‘With pleasure,’ the red-haired one sneered. ‘I am Simon of Ashleigh and this is my brother Edmund. At your service.’ He gave an exaggerated bow, copied by his brother, who was snickering under his breath.

  Even though he knew it was the truth, Roger still found it hard to believe these two were related to Mistress Sibell. No siblings could have been more unalike, in temperament at least. No wonder she looked so despondent. With half-brothers like these uncouth creatures, her life must be hell. And if the father was the same … he shuddered to think what the poor girl was going through. He hadn’t missed the fact that she’d flinched when her back was touched. If it had been a mere accident, she would have mentioned it to Lady Maude, but her silence told him the truth. Besides, her fear during their ride had been almost tangible, and some of the anger at her treatment returned when he saw the swaggering looks of the two men in front of him. He determined to pay them back for her suffering.