“All Carlene told me was that it was a Victorian mansion built in the early eighteen forties.”
“Aye, a grand place it is. I've been inside twice. Once when I was a young lad, and again some years back when there were tours through the place. It's mentioned in all the books on Scottish ghosts.”
“It's reputed to be haunted?”
“Aye. The story goes, Lannie Baird built it in 1843 then returned up north to search for a wife to fill it wi' children. He married a seventeen-year-old Highland girl named Tessa Aitkin. One month later, Lannie vanished. Tessa was made to wait two years before Lannie was decreed dead. Right efter, she married a young mon, Robert Ingliss, from her home village, and they resided in Baird House till her death in 1904.
“After her death, her eldest son took over the house. Robbie Ingliss was renovatin’ a portion o’ the tower when the body o’ Lannie Baird was discovered. It seems someone drove a knife through the poor mon's heart before wallin’ him up.”
“How gruesome.”
“Och, aye, and since the discovery, Baird House has been called Kist House. Kist in Scottish means a chest or box or...coffin.”
With a low, skeptical laugh, Beth asked, “And does Lannie walk the halls at night?”
To her dismay, there was no laughter in Calum's eyes when they turned her way. “The local folk believe so. Kist House has had a string o’ renters over the years. Some say old Lannie will never leave the place.”
Beth fell silent. She wanted to laugh at the old man’s attempt to shake her up, but a voice within her mind whispered that something in his words rang true. But if the house was haunted, wouldn't Carlene have mentioned it during their telephone conversations during the past few months?
Unless Carlene didn't want her to feel spooked.
Beth grinned at her musings.
Jet lag.
She was exhausted and wired at the same time. The idea of staying at a haunted house wasn't all that unappealing.
The past eight years had been trying ones for Beth, but she looked back on them without regret or a sense of loss for the youthful times that had waned so quickly. In a few days, she would be thirty years old. At the moment, she felt much older.
But this vacation would soon take care of that.
She and Carlene had shared wonderful times together during high school and two-and-a-half years at Washington State University. It was then that her adoptive mother had taken ill, her weak heart rendering her an invalid. There was nothing Beth could do but drop out of college and care for the woman who had raised her. Jonathan Staples had died unexpectedly of a stroke when Beth was nine, five years after the loving couple had taken her in. Rita Staples had poured all of her love into Beth's every waking day, striving to be both parents.
It had been hard for Beth to watch her mother languish away over the years, but she had never allowed Rita to see her fears, or the premature grief that had companioned her every night when she rested her head upon her bed pillows. Rita Staples had passed away in her sleep two months prior. Now it was time for Beth to apply the same determination to getting her business degree and beginning her adult life.
“Here we go. This is the private road to the house.”
Beth silently took in her surroundings. The road was narrow, bordered on each side in segments with large rhododendron bushes, and tall blue bell flowers. Evergreen forms and various bushes dotted the plump slopes of the hillside to her left. Barely seen above these was a crenelated structure. To her right, beyond a thicker foliage of trees and shrubs, she glimpsed a cluster of homes situated along a splendid blue loch.
As the cab climbed a slightly steeper incline, Beth was awed by groupings of rose bushes and white lilies, and of ivy draping several scattered, lattice-work structures.
Then the house came into full view.
Regarding the magnificent building looming up a short distance away, her pulse quickened. Awe lent a flattering tint to her cheeks. The cabbie pulled onto a graveled area to the right of the house. As soon as the vehicle had come to a full stop, she was out the door and staring up at the brown stone structure, sheer wonder lighting up her features. To add to the magic of the building and its plush greenery, peacocks were scattered everywhere. Some were as still as statues and watching her, others strutted their feather finery around the building and parking area. Several looked down from the high peaks of the mansion's multiple roof lines.
“Here you go, Miss.” Calum placed Beth's luggage by her left foot. “I'm off, now. Was told no' to hang ‘round.”
Getting into his cab, he tooted his horn twice. “Enjoy your stay!” he called out the window, then backed the car up, made a turn, and was driving away before Beth raised her hand in a dilatory goodbye.
“Beth?”
Her eyes swung around to light upon a familiar face. Beth smiled as she teasingly looked over her dearest friend, who was still slim and stunning in a two-piece, lightweight slack suit, her short, dark hair as chic as ever. But her smile wavered when she noted something in Carlene's eyes that belied the welcoming grin on her face. She couldn't define what was trying to surface beyond the periphery of her mind, nor could she understand why finally seeing Carlene after all these years would cause a chill to worm up her spine.
Jet lag.
“Come here, you,” Beth laughed, opening her arms.
They embraced and it was all Beth could do not to jerk back. For a moment she thought a full blown migraine was about to hit her, for a shocking coldness bled into her bone. She decided it was merely exhaustion. She was tired and a bit shaky. Guarding her disappointment when Carlene pulled away and took the largest suitcase in hand, Beth absently massaged the back of her stiff neck.
“Scat,” Carlene shooed impatiently, flagging a hand at a peacock strutting her way.
“Are they yours?”
“They're wild. They never seem to wander from the grounds, though.”
Watching the bird head off in the direction of the rhododendrons, Beth lifted the last suitcase into a hand. As she began to follow Carlene across the graveled ground leading to the front of the house, she happened to notice to her right, set back from the main structure, a beautiful carriage house. Then her gaze swung up to where, on the left side of the mansion, a square-built tower extended above the highest roof line.
“This place is absolutely incredible,” Beth said breathlessly.
A shadow seemed to pass across Carlene’s face, her eyes devoid of life. She offered Beth a strained smile and said, “Wait until you see the inside.”
Carlene briskly walked to a set of dark wood double doors that fronted a glass greenhouse. “All the furnishings are original. Everything remains as the builder left it in the mid eighteen-hundreds.”
“I think I'm in love,” Beth sighed, then felt a breath lodge in her throat as she caught Carlene pass her a furtive, brooding look. Beth was speared by a feeling that something was wrong, that she was intruding, and about to venture into something almost...sinister.
She gave herself a shake and mutely scolded herself for letting her fatigue fire-up her imagination.
Jet lag.
She was finally reunited with her best friend. And she was in Scotland, of all places!
Yes, she was in love. In love with life.
Beth followed Carlene through the small greenhouse of various houseplants, to another double door of bird's eye maple. A breath spilled past her lips upon entering an elongated hall.
A setting from out of the past stretched before her. The wall to her left was occupied with a tiled fireplace, artifacts made of animal bones and wood and copper from days long by. An antique settee of polished cherry wood, combined with a hat rack, umbrella stand, and a tall mirror, stood against the wall nearest the doors. Sliding mahogany doors were closed to her right. At the end of this wall was a wide, easy ascent staircase. An Oriental runner carpet of an identical pattern to that on the floor was held in place by a series of metal rods at the back of each step.
“This is the parlor,” Carlene explained as she opened the door and crossed the threshold.
Beth followed silently, her eyes darting to take everything in at one time. The far end of the room, to her left, ended with enormously tall windows set in a bay with mahogany window seats. Three pink and gold sofas were carefully arranged on an enormous red and blue Persian rug. Half of the wall across from her was wainscoted to a height of five feet, then tinted rose up to the twenty-foot-high vaulted ceiling. Built within the center of the wall was an immense, intricately carved wall unit with countless shelves and cubbyholes displaying souvenirs and mementos of a time long past. To each side of the unit, ancient swords, their points meeting in a tight center, formed circular patterns.
“I've made some tea,” Carlene said, directing Beth to one of the sofas. For the moment, Beth quelled her inspection of the room and focused on the steaming brew her friend was pouring from a silver pot into two dainty cups on the coffee table.
“Thank you.” Accepting one of the cups, Beth readily took a sip of the reviving liquid. “This is good.”
“There's cream and sugar.”
“Oh, no, I prefer mine plain, thank you.”
With a sigh, Beth watched Carlene sit alongside her. She had always admired her friend's petite frame and pixy features. Granted, they were each eight years older, but there was something off about Carlene that Beth could not put her finger on. Despite this, she said, “You look terrific.”
“So do you. I must say, I was expecting you to look rather...ragged.”
“Ragged?” Beth grinned, showing the deep dimples in her cheeks to their best advantage. “Thanks.”
With an apologetic grin, Carlene returned her cup to its saucer on the table. “It's so good to see you again.”
“You, too. For eight years, you've been a voice on the phone and an occasional scribble on paper.”
Beth didn't mean the words unkindly, but Carlene received them with a look of despondency. “I’m horrible at writing, I know. And not having a phone here is really a pain. But I have missed you, kiddo. It amazes me how fast time has gone by. Well...probably not so fast for you.”
“It wasn't so bad.”
“It couldn't have been easy watching your mother waste away like that.”
“No, it wasn't. Ma really hated feeling helpless.”
How well I know that feeling, Carlene thought, tears springing to her eyes.
“Carlene?”
“Oh, I'm all right.” Carlene swiped a finger beneath her moist nostrils. “She really was a sweet woman,” she went on, her voice quavering despite her efforts to control her emotions. “I never heard her say a harsh word. I wish I could have made it to the funeral.”
Beth laid a hand on Carlene's shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “We're not going to dwell on anything sad or depressing, do you hear me? I want to feel like I did in high school. Carefree and full of hell.”
“God, we were full of ourselves back then, weren't we?” Carlene looked down at her lap, as if to look into Beth's eyes was too painful. “I should have stayed around to help you with your mother, Beth, but I was too sel—”
“Listen to you,” Beth cut off kindly. “I never expected you to hang around and wait for me. Look at all you would have missed.”
Missed? Oh, God, Beth, I want to tell you so badly!
Carlene was close to bursting into tears. She wanted desperately to warn Beth, to hug her and try to explain what had really brought them together again.
Why had she painted that damn portrait?
What had drawn her and David to Kist House?
“Carlene, you don't look well.”
Clamping down on her emotions, Carlene made an airy gesture with a hand. “I'm fine.” She smiled with all the earnestness she could muster, but it was not enough to shield the shadow of shame in her blue eyes. Her worst fear at this moment was that her foreknowledge would brand itself on her brow for Beth to see.
Allowing a few seconds to pass while she sipped her tea, Beth wondered if perhaps Carlene and David were having marital problems. Beth had hoped to finally meet the Englishman who had swept Carlene off her feet just over a year ago. Perhaps David wasn't thrilled with the idea of Beth coming for a two-week stay.
This thought brought a frown to her face. Now that she thought about it, David hadn't talked on the phone to her for some time. “Does David mind me visiting?”
“Of course not. Why do you ask?”
Beth shrugged. “You seem a little preoccupied. Are you sure about this visit?”
Carlene's laugh didn't strike Beth as being genuine. “Don't be silly. I'm dying to show off...my house. So is David. It's this humidity, Beth. I’ve never gotten used to it. If it doesn't rain soon— But I'm feeling much better now that you're here. I've missed you terribly.”
“Oh sure,” Beth teased, refusing to dwell on the niggling doubts in her mind. “Who was the one who decided after college to roam Europe before settling down to a career? Leave it to you to land an Englishman and wind up the mistress of a Scottish, Victorian mansion.”
That's a curse, not a blessing, Carlene thought ruefully. In a light tone, she crooned, “Who knows. Maybe you'll find yourself a strapping Scotsman to whisk you off your feet.”
Beth groaned. “You're not planning to fix me up with someone, are you?”
“Me? No, I wouldn't do that to you.” A sly grin youthened Carlene's features. “But if you happen to see one that strikes your fancy....”
“My fancy is focused on college this fall.”
Carlene grimaced. “Sounds absolutely boring.” Careful not to sound too eager, she cast her bait. “Are you still having migraines?”
“Now and then.”
“Have you, umm, seen a doctor about them?”
“Not yet.”
Carlene clicked her tongue reprovingly. “You should, you know. They began after a fall, you said?”
“I'm still the same old klutz,” Beth chuckled. “I'd just given Ma a bath and put her to bed when the doorbell rang. I literally went flying down the stairs.” She shrugged. “I've still got a lump on the back of my head.”
“How soon after did the headaches begin?”
Beth was thoughtful for a moment. “A couple of days, I think. They come and go.”
“When did you fall?”
“About a week before Ma died.” Beth stared into her tea cup for a time then said in a small voice, “She'd been ill for so long, her death actually came as a shock.”
“Did she suffer? Dying, I mean.”
“No. She went to sleep and never woke up.”
“I'm so sorry, Beth. I wish....”
“I know. I miss her so much. Sometimes, Carlene, I forget she's gone, and I start to ask her something. The house seems so empty now. So quiet.”
“Must be lonely for you.”
Beth gave an absent nod, her eyes staring off into space. “I was seriously thinking about selling the house before you called and asked me to visit.” The dullness in her eyes faded to a genuine smile. “I can’t believe I'm here. In Scotland with you!”
“There are a few things I need to tell you about this house.”
“The cabbie told me its history.”
A smile strained at Carlene's mouth. “No doubt. There's no electricity—oh, but don't worry. The stove and light fixtures use gas. There's plumbing, and there are plenty of loos on every floor, not to mention the private one in your room.”
“Loos?”
“Bathrooms. We don't have servants, but we do have a woman who comes in to cook breakfast every day. You know how I am in the morning, and David loves a big breakfast.”
Carlene was amazed at how easily the lies were passing her lips. “And we have a groundske
eper. Lachlan’s a bit gruff when he does talk, but he really loves the place.”
“That's an unusual name.”
“Yes. He's an unusual man.” Understatement of the century! “Why don't I show you to your room? We'll have plenty of time to talk later.”
Placing her cup and saucer on the coffee table, Beth rose to her feet in sync with Carlene. “The cabbie said your house was haunted.”
“Oh?” Carlene turned away. “The locals are teeming with superstitions. Don't pay them any attention.”
Carlene walk toward the door they'd come through. Again it struck Beth there was something deeply disturbing her friend. She followed Carlene nearly to the door, but stopped to look over a magnificent fireplace to her left.
The facing was of Victorian marble, the lining and hearth of glazed, red tiles and a back of iron. The mantel bore wax flowers and fruits under glass domes, several carved pipes on brass stands, and two fan-tailed brass peacocks.
Beth breathed ever so sparingly. Her first impression of the room had been that it was exquisitely feminine, but now she realized, amidst the vibrant dashes of colors, it was the most masculine room she'd ever been in. She was about to voice her admiration of the decor when she happened to look up at a painting hanging above the mantelpiece. Her jaw went slack. Her blood plummeted to her feet.
Carlene gripped the brass knob of the door, her knuckles whitening under the strain as she looked up at the portrait.
She knew she should despise it, want to haul it down and destroy it in recompense for the grief it had brought her during the past months. But it was impossible for her heart not to fill with pride at her ability to have captured the real Beth on canvas, that free spirit within her friend that was most times hidden behind the woman's shyness.
“I don't believe this,” Beth murmured.
In their twelfth year at Kennewick High School, Carlene had talked her into letting her paint her portrait. And there Beth sat in the painting, amidst a field of wildflowers, her riotous, light brown curls dancing on a breeze. The lace, strapless dress Carlene had loaned her was flapping about a bent knee that her forearms casually rested upon. In the background, shafts of sunlight gleamed on the Columbia River.
Everlastin' Book 1 Page 2
