The Secret of Bourke's Mansion

by Carolyn (Moyer) Swayze

  “Stop it. Things aren’t that way at all. Why are you so vindictive? Both you and Grev are important to me.” Tears flooded her eyes and coursed down her cheeks. Her nerves were frayed. The last few days had been an unending stream of confusion with no clarity in sight. More and more, she thought longingly of Grev as the constant and stable factor who would set everything right. Until she saw him again, it was simply too frustrating to have Lynn cut him down, to undermine her faith in him. The days until he came couldn’t pass fast enough. She wished fervently that she had stressed a date and time for him to come.

  “Katie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I should have realized how tired you are,” Lynn said, genuinely solicitous. “Have a bit of a rest now. I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

  Kate nodded gratefully, giving a weak smile. “I’m sorry too, Lynn. I guess it’s a combination of being alone, thinking too much, and having too little rest.”

  Wiping her eyes, she took a kettle of hot water with her down the hall. A leisurely sponge bath perked her up considerably and as she sat in her bedroom slowly brushing her hair, she felt a bit sheepish about her emotional outburst. Just the same, Lynn was being very trying. Funny how you could live in harmony with a person for a whole year and then after a few days’ absence, find her intolerable. Did this happen in marriage as well? she brooded. Actually, the reverse had happened with Grev. After working with him daily on a harmonious but platonic basis, a few days’ absence had elevated him in her mind to a paragon of strength, virtue, and endearingly funny personali­ty quirks. There was simply no accounting for human nature. She idly lay on her bed, dreamily watching the tree swaying under the weight of a flock of magpies. Beyond the evergreens, she could see a grove of trees, their leaves tinged bright with flashes of orange and yellow. She could hear Lynn bustling about tending the fires and singing happily. As the aroma of bacon and coffee wafted into her room, her spirits brightened considerably. It was going to be a grand day, after all.

  “Come and get it!” Lynn called cheerily.

  The hearty breakfast succeeded in helping her feel once again like her normal, spunky self. With a surge of resolution, she determined not to give in again to fears and frustrations and to take all problems in hand until she found a solution. “We’ll work later,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk. I’m anxious to see all of the property, as well as the beach and the rest of the island.”

  “We’re off!” said Lynn readily.

  It was a glorious day. An Indian summer day. A narrow path wound through the woods, making its gentle way down to the sea. Here and there along the way, where occasionally the going was a bit steep, they found lengths of handrail, carefully constructed of lodgepole pine. Kate found herself repeating, “Beautiful, lovely, enchanting,” as they rounded each successive curve to confront increasingly breathtaking scenery.

  At last they made their way through a tangle of verdant undergrowth to step onto what seemed to Kate to be the very edge of the world, and the most beautiful edge at that. The tide was going out, and long-legged birds of both small and large varieties walked delicately on the tidal flats among a jumble of seaweed, driftwood, and rocks. Gulls swooped and darted, greedily feeding on starfish and crabs.

  Suddenly, a flash of movement caught Kate’s eye. “Look,” she whispered to Lynn, “it’s Casey. The cat, I mean.” He was poised at the rocky edge of a small tidal pool, periodically moving a paw with deadly certainty. He would calmly eat his catch, smugly wash his face, and stalk on to the next pool.

  “One mystery solved,” Kate gloated. “It’s been Casey who’s tended to his own meals all along. No wonder he’s so sleek and healthy with a diet of crabs and fishes each morning. Probably helps himself to a few birds as well, but I don’t like to think of that.” She perched happily on a logjutting out from a tumble of rocks. “There’s probably a perfectly logical solution to everything else as well.”

  Lynn’s face was wrinkled distastefully. “How can you completely ignore the fact that the seashore, especially at low tide on a sunny day, stinks? I find the stench of rotting fish and vegetation overwhelming.”

  “The gulls clean up everything. It’s lovely— smells like home to me.” Kate laughed.

  “Well, each to his own, I guess. I’d never realized what a nature girl you are.”

  “I suppose when you’re caught up in city life, it’s easy to forget what is really important to you. Out of sight, out of mind. I’ll never cut myself off from nature for such a long spell again. It’s so easy to fall into a rut, do the same things week after week and ignore the beauty so close to home. In fact I wish this was home. I’m certain I’d be content here.”

  “You’re dreaming, Katie. A holiday is fine, but you’re a city business girl, tried and true.”

  “Let’s not argue the point on such a beautiful day. We’ll discuss it on a gray winter’s afternoon when we’re caught in a traffic jam on our way home from work.”

  Lynn started to speak, then stopped abruptly. Kate followed her gaze. Standing on the peak of a small pyramid of rock was a slim figure gazing upward through binoculars. The person seemed to be focused on the squat gray house with the towering shake roof. A gust of wind cavorted down the beach, blowing a cloud of brilliant red hair in front of the glasses. It was the girl Kate had seen in town on the previous day—the busy girl who seemed to be connected with everyone.

  They watched her as she impatiently twisted her hair back and tucked it under her collar. Once again she lifted the glasses and peered up at the house. Then, holding them steadily with one hand, she pulled a white cloth from her jacket pocket with the other and slowly waved it in an arc above her head.

  Kate and Lynn exchanged puzzled glances. “Should we confront her?” Kate asked.

  Lynn shrugged. The girl had dropped her glasses onto her chest and made her way down the rock with the sure litheness of familiarity. She dashed quickly over the mud flats onto the dry sand and strolled toward them, still unaware of their presence. They were still thinking over the merits of confronting or avoiding her when Casey leapt with gay abandon into a somewhat deeper pool than he expected. With a squeal of displeasure, he splashed his way out. The girl saw Casey, Lynn, and Kate at practically the same moment. She looked startled, and her eyes darted anxiously toward the house above.

  “Hello, there,” called Kate as she hopped from her log and walked toward the girl. “If you’re looking for me, I’m not up there, as you can see.”

  The girl was tensely unsmiling as she cautiously appraised her position. It was obvious that she was wondering how long she had been under observation. She was perhaps twenty, her complexion tawny and smooth. Her eyes were alert and probing as she and Kate came face to face. Kate watched in fascination as Casey twined himself lovingly around the girl’s ankles in total familiarity. It was Lynn who broke the silence.

  “Beautiful day,” she remarked in a noncommittal fashion. “Who were you signaling to up there?”

  “Signaling?” the girl said blankly. “I was not signaling.”

  “Never mind that now. My name is Kate O’Brian. Who are you?”

  She hesitated, faltered, and then in resignation said softly, “My name is Sonya Moonsong.”

  Kate gazed at the broad gold band on her left hand. “Are you Samuel’s wife, then?”

  “Yes, yes, I am his wife.”

  “I’m so pleased to meet you at last. I hope you’ll talk to me. My friend, Lynn here, thinks I’m imagining that the islanders aren’t exactly wel­coming me with open arms.”

  Again the girl scanned the surrounding land­scape. Stalling for time, Kate thought, or perhaps checking to see if she was being watched. “Yes” —she nodded at last—”I think I will talk to you for a minute.”

  They sat on the smooth rocks while Casey settled comfortably on Sonya’s lap. She did not appear willing to open the conversation.

  “Sonya, I’m trying to understand the feelings of the islanders. They seem united in
their determination for me to leave.”

  Sonya nodded.

  “But why?” Kate pleaded in exasperation.

  “I think,” Sonya said carefully, “that we all have different reasons. We are all agreed that it is not a good thing for you to be here. Not good for the islanders nor is it good for you.”

  “But I love this place,” Kate said in frustration. “How could I possibly be a threat to anyone?”

  Sonya scarcely seemed to hear her. Her eyes had a faraway, dreamy look. The silence extended into minutes before she spoke again. “The Bourkes’ death was a turning point for most people here.”

  “Well, from living in their home, I feel I’ve come to know them a bit,” Kate said. “I’m sure they were very warm and pleasant people. It doesn’t seem to me that they would have been so hostile,” she concluded with a trace of bitterness.

  “But they’re not here now, so we’ll never know, will we?” Sonya responded softly. She stood to leave. “Please believe me when I say that it is most urgent that you leave and not take anything with you. It is for your safety that I insist. You cannot stay. I can tell you nothing more than that. Goodbye.”

  Kate and Lynn watched as she retraced her steps down the shore before slipping from view into a thicket of trees.

  Kate angrily pitched a rock into the water. “I expect she means well. I only wish that I could make it clear that I am simply not leaving. I cannot. I have a job to do and I’ll not be intimidated. What is the ultimatum, I wonder?”

  Chapter 9

  “Let’s go. Quickly!” Kate said urgently. “She was signaling to someone up there. We might just surprise them.”

  “No, Kate. She. suggested that you were in danger. Let’s take our time. Then we’ll pack our bags and both leave.”

  “Don’t be foolish. We’re just starting to find some answers.” Kate was already scrambling back up the path, not taking any time to admire the sights. Lynn followed reluctantly. As they neared the house, Kate motioned Lynn to be quiet.

  “You stay here on the path, watching the house, while I walk in. There must be another exit, and you may see someone leave. If you do meet anyone, just greet them casually.” Lynn tried to protest but Kate had already scurried away.

  As she came to the last curve on the path, she looked back to see her friend, arms folded, staring stolidly up at the house. Kate waved reassuringly, then quickly went up to the door. She opened it quietly, listening intently. A man coughed from the direction of the living room. “Who’s there?” she called. She heard a subdued thud, the closing of a door, and then a tapping sound.

  “It’s me, Luke Morgan. I’m just working on your heat vents here. They’re giving me a lot of trouble.”

  Kate followed the voice into the living room.

  Luke Morgan was flushed and nervous. “Nice day for a walk,” he commented as Kate stared at his trembling hands. He was more frightened than she was.

  “Mr. Morgan, is there another entrance to this house?”

  “No, I don’t think so. I guess they had no need for two doors. Why, if there was a back door, a person would fall over the cliff. Not likely anyone would want to come and go that way.”

  “How’s the furnace coming?” Kate interrupted his nervous chatter. “You don’t seem to have any tools with you.”

  He was becoming even more agitated. “Won’t be long now. Tools are in the basement. Thought I’d better make sure this duct was clear. Wouldn’t want to smoke up the house.” He hurried away as Kate watched him quizzically.

  When he was gone she looked around the rooms. There were so many things that it would be difficult to determine if something was missing. She tried the door to the Indian room and was gratified to find it still firmly locked. Then she popped outside and hurried down to Lynn. “See anything?” she asked.

  “Lots of squirrels.”

  “Luke Morgan is at the house. He says he’s fixing the furnace, but I found him in the living room. He didn’t like my finding him there.”

  As they passed the woodshed, Kate spotted a stack of cardboard cartons, folded and stored on the rafters.

  “Perfect,” she said, “now we can get the personal things sorted and distributed.”

  “The sooner you’re finished here, the better. Let’s get at it.”

  They could hear Luke hammering in the basement as they sorted and folded, both feeling as though they were trespassing. Neither enjoyed the task and were greatly relieved as they neared the end. They turned quickly to the sound of a creaking floorboard. Luke was watching them, a look of fury on his face. “Nothing is leaving this house. I’ll not warn you again.” Before they could reply, he was gone.

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” said Kate remorsefully. “I’d planned on giving the bulk of this to him, thinking they could pass on what they couldn’t use themselves.”

  “Methinks a cult of Bourke worshippers has sprung up on the island,” Lynn said mischievously.

  “There’s a logical answer besides an aversion to foreigners, and I’m determined to find out what it is. And I wonder when we’ll have lights and heat?” she added.

  “Probably never,” was the pessimistic reply. “They must realize that if they bide their time, they’ll freeze you out by winter.”

  “There simply has to be heat soon. The cold and damp will damage everything, and they don’t seem to be destructive people.”

  They spent a quiet evening reading, occasionally chatting, and making a concerted effort to ignore the howling that began again with the rising of the moon.

  “I’d like to know if that dog howls when there’s no moon,” Kate commented. “If I last that long.”

  They were both exhausted and agreed upon an early bedtime. Kate put new batteries into the flashlight and left Lynn reading in bed. She snuggled into the voluminous quilts, determined that nothing would disturb her rest. Tomorrow night she knew she would be alone again and it was important that she be well rested in preparation. Probably exhaustion did contribute to her nervousness. “Grev, please come soon,” she breathed as the lamp light flickered. She was out of fuel.

  She congratulated herself for her foresight in purchasing batteries, as she had no idea what fuel to use in the lamps or where to get any. She reached over for her flashlight and flicked the switch. The room remained dark. She recalled with dreadful certainty the druggist’s deliberate trip to the back room for her batteries. The scoundrel! He had looked to be such a harmless old fellow. Cheeks burning with rage, she made her way to Lynn’s room. It, too, was dark.

  “Lynn, are you awake?”

  “I’d planned on reading for a while,” came the reply, “but my lamp ran dry. I’m just drifting off to sleepyland.”

  “Mine ran out too,” Kate told her ominously. “And my new batteries are dead. It’s going to be a long, dark night.”

  “Umm. Night.”

  Kate smiled. Lynn apparently wasn’t losing any sleep worrying about it, but she recalled her resolution to be prepared for anything in the future.

  She padded into the kitchen and hopefully held a match to the wick of the lamp. It, too, was empty. Surely this was no coincidence. The lamps had been drained. She wondered if the reason was simply to reinforce the warning for her to leave or if it was to insure that there would be a safe mantle of darkness for a nighttime intruder. Wearily, Kate considered the possibilities. She desperately wanted nothing more than a good sleep this last night that Lynn would be with her. Realizing that nothing had threatened her physically, she at last reached for a bottle of aspirin and gulped down three of them. She so rarely used medication of any kind that she knew they would efficiently drug her into sleepy oblivion. Just to be sure, she sat by the dying fire and sipped a small glass of wine. She knew when she groggily toddled off to bed that sleep would at last be hers. Snuggling deep into the quilts, with Casey curled at her feet, she closed her eyes determinedly.

  She drifted hazily and heavily through a mist that seemed to be Ireland, the streets noisy
with activity. She attempted to ask for silence so that she could sleep but her voice couldn’t be heard over the mad barking of a dog. In snatches she heard banging, thumping, and hurried clatterings. Then slowly, dreadfully, she became aware of insidious whispers. Hushed whispers floated past the noises and forcibly intruded on her troubled sleep. She sat up reluctantly, shivering, damp with perspiration and clammy with anxiety. Her mind reeled and staggered and at last focused on what she had hoped to avoid.

  In a mood of frightened resignation, she acknowledged that her door was closed, she had no lights, and that the house was occupied by at least two people who considered her the enemy. Stifling the urge to scream in terror and rage, she got to her feet, breathing deeply in an effort to gain control. She cursed the aspirin that was blurring her comprehension of the words being spoken beyond her door. Edging her way quietly to the bedroom window, she struggled to raise the sash a few inches so she could breathe in the biting night air. That felt much better. She watched Casey, or rather, saw him silhouetted on her tangled bedclothes, stretching, arching his back languidly before gliding to the floor. He rubbed against her ankles, giving her reassurance, it seemed. She edged to the door, only to find it locked. Scooping Casey into her arms, she sat cross-legged on the bed, straining to hear what was going on. From beneath the door, she saw circles of light whisk past. The voices were jumbled, interrupted by the rumble of moving furniture. The timber and pitch of the voices was distorted by curious acoustics that made it impossible to decipher the words.

  Everything seemed to be happening without any regard to her at all. It was almost with a sense of detachment that she listened to footsteps that seemed to be coming from above her. Squirrels in the attic! No, not squirrels—people. But of course there was an attic. How could she have closed her mind to that fact, simply because she hadn’t seen an entrance? She could only blame herself for forgetting the soaring shake roof, complete with turrets and wee gable windows.