“It happened here several times, but this isn’t the only place where it happens—even Americans have been kicked out for government purposes. It’s called eminent domain. They try to reimburse people, but where citizens are renting, it’s not possible.”
“They could have made arrangements for the families to have somewhere else to stay.”
“Wars are hard on everyone. Especially those who are innocent.”
Nicole was silent for several moments, thinking over what Conor said. He was so frank, so blunt about it. Her heart continued to ache, though, thinking about the displaced families. But they had a job to do, and exploring an abandoned town was a little better than exploring one families lived in. “If the government owns the property, how are we going to get to the manor?”
Conor looked at her, a grin on his face. “It isn’t legal, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Nicole was amazed at how much he’d adopted her task as his own. It really helped having him there. The doubts Lizzie had brought up the evening before vanished as Nicole watched the enthusiasm with which Conor attacked their project. She was so glad she’d brought him.
Once they got as close to Stanford as they could, Conor pulled to the side of the road and they set out on foot, following a trail that had become overgrown from lack of use.
“The government isn’t as active here as in other places,” Conor said. “In fact, they only come around once or twice a year. We’ll have the whole town to ourselves.”
“As long as other people aren’t exploring too.”
Conor shrugged. “I’m not worried. You’re an Arete—you can scare them off.”
“Very funny.” He knew she couldn’t control her powers yet, the tease. “How do you know all of this, anyway?”
His eyes lit up. “As soon as you mentioned the name of the town, I recognized it immediately. World War Two stuff is very fascinating to me, especially England’s history. Anyway, I had to look Stanford up again to make sure I was remembering things correctly. But yeah—that’s how.”
“Well, I’m glad. It helps knowing what we’re getting into.”
Conor took her hand, and they fell into a companionable silence. The little meadows and forests they traveled through were quaint and pretty, and Nicole admired them, finding it easy to forget why she was in England in the first place.
Conor interrupted her thoughts, holding some branches out of her way as they crossed an old log. “There most likely won’t be any cameras, but we should still be careful. There’s no sense drawing attention to ourselves by causing a ruckus.” He paused, glancing back at her. “Are you ready to tell me what we’re doing yet?”
“We have to find the manor,” Nicole said. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard someone say “ruckus.” Conor definitely had odd sayings. “And once we do, we’re heading into the basement. Apparently, the guy who used to live there collected all sorts of creepy things, and we’re looking for one of them.”
Conor nodded. “Okay. That doesn’t give me much to go on, but at least it’s a little more information.”
He didn’t seem put out, so Nicole didn’t elaborate, even though she knew he wanted her to.
They walked for several moments without talking, only the sounds of their feet on the soft path breaking the silence.
“So,” Conor started.
Nicole smiled to herself. She could tell he was about to bring up an awkward conversation, and he wasn’t sure how to broach the topic.
“So . . . what’s up with your parents?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” Nicole asked. That wasn’t what she’d expected.
“I mean . . .” He gestured all around them. “Why did they let you go to the UK? Why didn’t they come with you?”
Nicole shrugged. “They’ve been this way my whole life. I know I make my mother uncomfortable, though I’m not sure why. I’ve asked her several times. I’ve also asked her why she dislikes me, and she never has a good answer—if any.”
“Have you ever talked to your siblings or your dad?”
Nicole nodded. “Of course. Mother treats my brothers the same way sometimes, though. Except for Paul, of course. She idolizes Paul and his new wife. But she acts like the rest of us are nuisances to her.”
Conor frowned. “I have to wonder why she even had kids.” He glanced apologetically at Nicole. “I don’t mean to offend you or anything. But with how detached she seems—how detached both your parents are—it just makes me wonder.”
“Oh, believe me,” Nicole said, “I’ve wondered myself.”
They reached a large fence with signs posted all over it warning people to keep out and that trespassers would be prosecuted. Conor paused, then approached it and pulled out the wire cutters. He began cutting fence, his actions swift. Nicole smiled as she watched and couldn’t help but wonder if he’d done it before. It made her hesitate for a moment, but she pushed the negative feeling aside.
Once he had cut a hole large enough for them to squeeze through, he stepped away, pulling the fence back, inviting Nicole to go through first.
Nicole hesitated, looking around at the forest and the distant meadows, half expecting to see red-coated men on white horses galloping toward them armed with bayonets and rifles. But nothing happened, and she continued through the hole. Conor followed after, pushing the floppy section back into place, doing his best to make it look like it hadn’t been cut.
They walked through a thin forest, heading toward what Nicole assumed was an old church. It had a cylindrical tower and a red roof. They didn’t stop to explore, instead heading for a cobblestone road lined with several little cottages.
Nicole couldn’t help it—she had to look inside one of the cottages. She cautiously approached the first one, walking down the path that led from the road to the door.
Chapter Eighteen
The grounds felt hollowed, almost sacred. The little front yard was quiet and still, as if out of respect for those who had been forced to abandon their homes. The rose bushes and foliage had long grown wild and died. The path was cracked, and weeds sprouted up through those cracks.
Whether the windows had once been made of glass or not, Nicole couldn’t tell. She peered inside the first opening. A table was in the center of the room with plates on it, as if the family had been ready to sit down for dinner when government officials arrived. A wooden rocking chair was in an adjoining room with the rotted remains of a blanket across the back of it. An old stuffed toy was on the floor next the rocking chair.
With a sigh, she turned and headed back to the cobblestone road where Conor was waiting.
“It’s upsetting,” he said quietly.
Nicole nodded and reached out, taking his hand and lacing her fingers through his. They continued down the road, following as it turned to the left. At the end of the public section of the road, and set at least a quarter mile away, the old Stanford Manor came into view.
Nicole remembered that the previous owner had tried to destroy it before committing suicide. It definitely looked rundown and dilapidated, but for the most part, it was intact. The building was a gray-colored stone that was slightly yellowed. It had several red-brick chimneys that were nice accents to the stone. Tall, narrow windows with multiple panes decorated the exterior walls. The building itself was also tall, and unlike most of the estates and manors in the Jane Austen BBC TV shows, it wasn’t symmetrical. Nicole assumed that meant it had been built in a different era.
Even though it was rundown, it didn’t give off as much of a creepy air as Nicole had expected. Hopefully, that wouldn’t change.
She and Conor continued toward it. The gates of the estate easily pushed open, and they followed the cobblestone road that continued to the front of the manor.
As they neared the large building, Nicole was dismayed to feel a sense of despair cascade over her. She couldn’t tell if it came from inside herself or if something about the place forced the emotion on her.
“Do
you know anything about the manor itself?” Not only did Nicole want to engage Conor in conversation to help push away the despair, but she hoped that since he knew so much about the town itself, he would know more about the manor than she did.
“Only a little.” He didn’t continue.
“What do you know?” she pressed.
“Just that the previous owner had something horrible happen to him. As a result, he tried to destroy the manor, then committed suicide.” Conor glanced at Nicole. “Apparently, he wasn’t successful in destroying the place.”
Nicole nodded, staring at the magnificent building before them. It had so many towers and turrets and gables that she didn’t bother counting them all. The thing had to be at least twenty thousand square feet, if not more.
She wondered why the man had committed suicide. What had driven him to that? And what was it that made him want to destroy his home?
They walked up the steps leading to the main entrance of the manor, then they both paused, turning to each other. Conor’s golden-brown gaze locked onto Nicole, a hesitancy there that mirrored her own. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “I don’t think it’s safe—I don’t think we should even enter.”
Nicole straightened, realizing that because Conor didn’t know why they were there—the importance of their task—she was the one who would have to lead the way, to stick to their objective. “Yes, we have to. At least, I do. I hate the thought of you being put into danger, though—please tell me if you’re not comfortable continuing and I won’t be upset going alone.” She really didn’t want to, but if something happened to him, she’d feel horrible.
“If you’re going, I’m definitely going.” Conor let go of her hand, but instead of raising his to open the door, he motioned to a set of porch furniture that looked somewhat sturdy, albeit very old. “I suggest we eat before we go in. I’m hungry.”
Nicole nodded. Good thinking. She joined him at the old wooden furniture, admiring the workmanship of it. The wood was solid, the nails and ropes that held it together still intact. It had obviously been created by somebody who knew what they were doing.
She opened up her backpack—she was one with all the food—and start pulling out jerky, string cheese, bread, and water. The two ate in silence, staring at the vast expanse of overgrown lawn and flowers. Nicole had been so distracted by the manor, she hadn’t even noticed the yard. The cobblestone road that passed through it was the same as the one on the other side of the estate’s fence. It just continued onto the private property.
To one side of the road was what looked like had once been a mirror pond—the sort with shallow water that spilled over all of its edges. It was now empty, the water long dried up. Vines grew along the tiled sidewalk that circled the pond, clinging desperately to what once was a reliable source of water. The grass was mostly brown. It had grown to great lengths before twisting up and dying.
Nicole glanced up at the skies. It was overcast, the clouds heavy and obviously wanting to release the water they held. Why had the grass died when England definitely wasn’t short on moisture?
Along the edges of the fence ran more ivies and shrubbery that at one point had probably been nicely manicured. The overwhelming feeling on the property was, as Nicole had discovered, despair—a sense of dissolution, neglect, and longing for better times. She herself began longing for those better times. She wished she was back home with Lizzie and Derek and that none of this had happened.
They finished eating and packed away the wrappers and now-empty water bottles. Then they got to their feet, stepping across the stone porch.
“Do we just go inside?” Conor asked.
When Nicole nodded, he grabbed the door handle, twisted, and pushed. It took a bit of shoving before the hinges finally relented. And then with a groan that echoed through the empty interior of the manor, the door swung open.
Nicole joined Conor in staring at the large entryway. It was magnificent, or had been in its day. A huge marble staircase was directly in front of them, curving gently around the inside wall of the enormous room, leading to the second floor. The railing and balcony above were beautiful. Nicole couldn’t tell what either had been created from—they were so dirty that the original material could have been metal or wood or even stone.
The floor of the front entry looked like marble. It was covered in dirt and debris that had fallen from the walls—probably plaster of some sort.
Nicole looked at Conor, then took the first step inside. The floor was solid underfoot, the air breathable. There wasn’t as much dust here as she thought there would be. Nothing in it had stirred in years, and the dust coated the surfaces instead of lingering in the air.
The front entryway had a set of double doors to the left and a set to the right. Below the staircase on either side, Nicole could see doors leading to rooms in the back of the manor.
Conor stepped up next to her, and Nicole glanced at him. “Where did they have basement staircases back in the day?”
Conor smiled at her. “Why am I the expert on all things antiquity?”
Nicole shrugged. “Because you’ve known about everything else so far.”
“Fair enough.” Conor motioned to the door to their left. “I suggest we just do a cursory search of the main floor. Entrances to basements were usually located near kitchens and other rooms where servants spent time.”
Nicole motioned to the doors on either side of the staircase. “Then we should probably start there. I’m assuming the kitchen would be toward the back of the house.”
Conor nodded. “Good point.” He nudged her with his elbow. “See? I’m not the only one who knows stuff.”
Nicole chuckled. They stepped across the large foyer. A weird sensation that they were invading someone’s privacy made her cringe, but she refused to dwell on it.
Hopefully, it wasn’t a warning.
Chapter Nineteen
They started with the door on the left. Nicole pushed it open, half expecting something to jump out at them. Nothing happened, though. The room on the other side looked to be a sort of game room—the drawing room, perhaps. There was a door on the opposite end from the one she had just pushed open, and they made their way across the heavy stone floor. The drawing room was dark, the window covered in quite a bit of dust. Nicole and Conor pulled flashlights out of their bags, turning them on.
“Did you buy extra batteries?” Nicole asked. If they had to use the flashlights during daylight hours, the ones included with the flashlights wouldn’t get them very far.
“Yes—I’ve got enough for probably twenty-four hours of continuous use.”
“Oh, good. I don’t plan on taking longer than ten minutes—if that—to find the basement, but who knows, right?”
Conor didn’t answer. He pushed the door open, shining his flashlight into the dark room on the other side. “Here’s the kitchen,” he said.
The two stepped inside, directing their lights around the edges of the room. Nicole shivered when she saw the corners. She’d nearly forgotten about the hounds—it had been hours since she’d been near a corner. As long as she stayed with Conor, though, she’d be fine.
Her light bounced on a door that looked promising, and the two of them stepped across the kitchen to it. It was already open, revealing a set of very fragile-looking stairs leading down.
“Are they safe?” Nicole asked.
“Only one way to find out.”
Conor took a step onto the staircase, testing his weight gingerly.
It held.
He looked back at her. “I suggest we go down one at a time.”
Without waiting to hear whether Nicole agreed, Conor started down the stairs. She kept her flashlight trained on his back the entire way, hoping he didn’t smash through the wood. Instead of crumbling, though, the wood held his weight, only groaning loudly in protest.
The stairs turned to the right, and Conor disappeared from view.
“Just let me know you reach the bottom,” Ni
cole called to him.
“I’m already there. You can come down now.” Conor said. “This is the best basement I’ve ever been in.”
Nicole cautiously put her foot on the top stair, then slowly started down. She felt the wood shifting under her weight, but as with Conor, it held. When she rounded the corner of the staircase, she almost bumped into Conor, who’d paused at the bottom.
He stepped to the side, allowing Nicole to join him.
Nicole stared in shock at the wine cellar that opened up in front of her. A long hallway stretched away at least fifty feet, then turned to the right. Every inch of it was completely lined with shelves holding wine bottles and other beverages. A large portion of them were broken, but several were still intact. Given the second hall that stretched away from her to the right before curling to the left, the entire basement was a huge passageway that formed a square.
In awe, probably at the large size of the cellar, Conor stepped to the first shelf, hefting one of the unbroken jars. It shattered in his hands, the wine spilling all over his arms and the front of his pants and down the legs. He looked at the mess in dismay. “Great. Now it looks like I peed my pants.”
Nicole couldn’t swallow the giggle that popped through her lips, and he mock-glared at her. She held her hands up, her flashlight dangling, still showing his face. “Don’t hate—I’m the only one here you need to impress, and I’m already impressed.”
Conor stepped up to her, pulling her close with sticky hands. “Then you won’t mind getting a little of this on you?”
Nicole laughed out loud, pushing him away as he continued trying to rub his hands on her. “Uncle! Uncle!”
He chuckled, gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then swept the broken glass to the side with his foot, making sure it wouldn’t get in their way as they explored the cellar.
They’d only been down there for a couple of moments when Nicole sensed a slight pressure building around them. She tilted her head, wondering what it came from. It felt somewhat like the magical pulse she’d sensed shortly after Restarting. Was a hound approaching?
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